NSFW DJCom Fics

DJ's Duty (OR: Desk)

DJ opened the door to Commander's office with a sigh. The sight before him was unsurprising but very frustrating. Commander was hunched over his desk, pen clenched painfully in his right hand, and writing vigorously. Now, this normally wouldn't be so upsetting. However, Commander had been working with no breaks for exactly three hours straight, even choosing to ignore DJ's requests to take a second to relax.

DJ strode over to Commander's table, a frown on his lips. His hands placed themselves on Commander's tense shoulders. Commander jumped but relaxed when he realized who it was. "C'mon Comm, you've been working non-stop for hours. Take a break. You need it," he gently chided. "It's not healthy."

Commander groaned and set his pen down. "I gotta get this done. My boss needs it." He tilted his head back as DJ began to massage the knots out of his shoulders.

"What is it, anyway?" DJ asked, furrowing his brows. He gave a small glance to the seemingly endless amounts of paperwork on his desk. Most of the ink was fresh on the pages; the ink glistened in the blindingly bright lamplight next to it. It was definite proof of Commander's labor.

Commander cracked his knuckles with a strained grunt. “A report for my boss. I haven't worked on it at all and I know I'm totally screwed if I don't send it in before the end of the month." DJ's expression softened in sympathy. “I’m almost done… just give me a couple more hours—“

“It looks like you’ve done enough for tonight. Relax yourself, baby.” He pushed his hands slowly down the front of Commander's uniform. “It won’t hurt to take a minute, yeah?” He began to unbutton the bottom of the jacket, soon making his way up to the top. The jacket popped open and revealed a thin black tank top. “Oh, I haven’t seen you wear this in a while," he purred, thumbing at the tank top's straps. "Can I continue?” DJ tugged the swivel chair Commander was sitting on out and spun it so the two could be face to face.

Commander swallowed and glanced back at his work. “I— but… I gotta get this done.” The hands dancing along his arms were growing distracting. DJ’s affectionate kiss on the top of his head turned Commander’s attention back to his boyfriend. Commander chewed on his bottom lip. It can't be THAT bad to take a second…

"I can take a tiny break. Nothing more than a couple m-Mhn!” Commander audibly gasped as DJ’s fingers put pressure on his sensitive nipples. The puffy nubs hardened quickly, poking through the thin fabric of his shirt. "DJ!"

"I love how sensitive you are," DJ snickered. "Let's get this jacket off you. You must be very warm." Commander shrugged off his jacket with little to no complaint. The jacket fell to the floor with an audible thump, the medallions and such clattering against the wooden floor. Commander's lips pursed as DJ looked up and down his torso. Commander shifted nervously under his stare. DJ's hands then moved up Commander's tank top. The tickle of DJ's fingertips moving upward made Commander shudder. As he made his way up, he made sure to brush over every single bit of touchable skin, enjoying how Commander would suck in a breath at particularly tender spots.

Eventually, DJ reached the smaller man's chest. He squeezed his pectorals, eliciting a soft whimper from Commander. His hands continued to knead the soft mound of skin as he listened smugly to Commander's sweet moaning. In the spur of the moment, DJ teasingly slid a finger around Commander's nipple. His thumbs swiped across the hardened buds, smiling at the twitch and hum that Commander gave.

"W-Wait," Commander gasped. DJ stopped and retracted his hand, a look of worry on his face. "Let me…take this off as well…" His voice delved into inaudible mumbling as he eagerly pulled the tank top off. He threw the shirt in a random direction hoping it landed somewhere he could quickly find again. Commander pushed his sunglasses up on his face and stared at DJ with lidded eyes. An idea popped into DJ's head, causing his smug grin to return.