Wilbur had taken Quackity's offer to become vice president of Las Nevadas for a multitude of reasons.
For one, he'd be back in the narrative. Las Nevadas was the newest biggest thing, bustling and beautiful and deceitful. The world had moved on without Wilbur Soot. This was an opportunity to be part of it once again.
For another- and Wilbur would never fucking admit it to anyone- he'd be able to get closer to Quackity. Quackity, who would treat him like a petty annoyance instead of a bomb rigged to explode at random. Quackity, who was the only person who would look him in the eye these days.
Maybe Wilbur wanted to get closer to Quackity because he wanted a powerful, competent companion (not that he'd ever let Quackity know Wilbur thought of him as such, the man already had an ego the size of the SMP itself).
Maybe it was because Wilbur wanted to relearn loving life in the way that Tommy could, and maybe he could find that in Quackity, the only person in a long, long time to make his heart beat so fast.
Wilbur liked to go with the former.
He had other reasons for accepting Quackity's ever so condescending offer, but those were the two most significant ones.
And Wilbur did his duty perfectly, pristinely, ignoring how his face would heat up whenever Quackity complimented him, telling him he was doing a good job. Wilbur wasn't a dog. He didn't need to be praised and given a treat to boost morale. Although, maybe he did go through his routine with a bit more vigor than usual after such interactions occurred.
Obviously, the banter and petty remarks and kind-of flirts didn't vanish once Wilbur had taken up the job. Wilbur might've been Quackity's vice president, but he wasn't his obedient subordinate.
Quackity had started calling him mi cielo somewhere along the line. Wilbur didn't know what the fuck that translated to, but it was either something derogatory that Quackity had decided to use in lieu of an endearing nickname or actually an endearing nickname that Quackity was using ironically.
And no, it did not fluster him whenever Quackity would smile and give him a "Good job, mi cielo." It was probably meant to come off as patronizing anyway.
Wilbur had been lounging around Quackity's office to annoy him since Wilbur had finished his work for that day while Quackity had not, and who was Wilbur to pass up an opportunity to piss Quackity off? He'd made probably one too many suggestive comments, or maybe twenty too many, but either way it earned him Quackity standing and slamming his palms into his desk, dragging Wilbur over, and kissing him dizzy.
One thing led to another and Wilbur found himself sat on Quackity's desk, naked except for his dress shirt which was unbuttoned and slid down to his elbows, biting his tongue as Quackity pleasured him with his fingers and sucked red splotches into his skin, gripping Quackity's shoulders for dear fucking life.
The reality of the situation was catching up to Wilbur, and he pressed a hand to Quackity's chest. "Quackity- mmhph!" he cut himself off as Quackity did something particularly delightful with his hand. "Q- Quackity, um, wait-"
As soon as the last word left his mouth, Quackity was pulling off of Wilbur's neck with a wet sound that made Wilbur flush. "Yeah? Everything alright?" He seemed to be studying Wilbur's face for something.
"Well, it's, it's not something wrong, I just- I- I shouldn't, shouldn't..." Wilbur averted his gaze, ducking his head. "It's, um, embarrassing..." He was painfully aware of the heat in his cheeks.
"What is?" Quackity queried softly. "What's embarrassing?"
Like he didn't have three fingers inside Wilbur and one hand kneading his thigh.
