Response to a challenge from nekomaxwell on LJ's yamifics community:
"I want someone to write a fanfic in which there is copy room sex. It doesn't have to be Homosexual, as is my preference to such fanfic. It just has to include copy room sex. Plot optional. Have fun!"

Author's Notes:
Writing smut makes the day look up; excessively bad pun, I apologize ;D. This is an indirect, pwp/smut follow-up to "Pride & Possession". You don't have to have read it to follow this, but I'd be thrilled if you did.
I apologize for the lameness of the title, pointless smut, inconsistencies, and typos (as this is unbetaed) and gratefully accept suggestions and comments.
MC (threewalls) – this is not quite flank slapping, but I hope it will do ;D.

Warnings: Consensual bondage/submission, slight kinkiness, a bit of spanking and, last but never least, dom!Watari. I also think that a copy-room at the Shokan division qualifies for the warning of semi-public sex. If any of the above is not your cup of tea, or if slash (m/m) in general offends you, don't read.

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." (The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde)

--- ** ---

It was a little known fact that the Shokan Division owned a copy-room, in the basement of the huge office building. Infrequent use – mainly due to the main office copier actually working well and most employees' reluctance to copy mountains of paperwork – and its isolated location made it the perfect place for a quickie at the office.

Not that this had ever occurred, though more than one Shinigami had entertained the notion that it might be fun. However, Tatsumi planned to change that; had planned to change it for a while, actually. Being the thorough, fussy man he was, he would not be satisfied with less than perfection for their fifth official – sixth, if one counted the first year of their relationship – anniversary. Them being, of course, himself and his lover.

The idea of copy-room sex was actually Watari's, in one of his inspired pleas for more public displays of affection (in other words, coming out to everyone in the office who hadn't yet heard about their relationship through Tsuzuki or other gossipmongers).

Tatsumi did pride himself on following through with the idea though. And he congratulated himself even more on having been able to keep all preparations from his lover. All he had to do now was wait. He squirmed a little as he shifted another stack of papers to the left. It never hurt to be efficient and while he was waiting for Watari to walk into the trap, he could at least occupy himself with copying case and expense report forms for the next couple of months. After all, it was something he regularly did and the copier, though old, was in excellent working order still. Since Tatsumi was the only one who ever used it, that was no big surprise, of course.

--- ** ---

It was a bit strange for Tatsumi not to have mentioned their anniversary – not that Watari was going angsty about it, he knew his lover wasn't someone to go for overly elaborate displays of emotion and, apart from their first date, always refrained from romantic gifts like flowers or chocolates. And it didn't matter, because their relationship really wasn't about plants or food – still, Tatsumi had never before forgotten their anniversaries.

Waking up alone, without his partner curled up against his side that morning had, at first, not been a cause for distress – he could have prepared a surprise or something. In fact, he'd just put breakfast (tea and miso soup) out for him and 003 in the kitchen. Nothing special had happened as he came to the office, no note in his lab and Tatsumi wasn't to be found either; not that he had looked…much. Watari, though certainly not someone to be easily offended – though he held grudges longer than other people – was well on his way to being seriously annoyed with the man.

"Hoot!"

003 was soaring about his head in very elaborate little figure-eights; which would have amused him if he hadn't just been thinking about his lover. Still, he looked up at her, raising an eyebrow when he noticed she was holding a piece of paper in her talons. Was that a message from his wayward lover? He held out his hand, and the small owl dropped the note into it, still circling him, hooting more urgently now, flapping her wings so hard she stirred the short locks hanging into his face.

Tatsumi's handwriting winked up at him as he unfolded the paper and he released a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding; he had *not* been worried – it was highly unlikely his lover would forget their anniversary, after all. The handwriting was very small, very neat, and very … pink. And it said, Watari's eyes widened, he re-read the note, "Get your ass down to the copy-room. Now. With love, your pet."

A sharp nip to his earlobe and a hoot – making him jump – were enough to convince him that 003 wanted him out of the lab at once; so, being the good little scientist he was, he did as he was told. And got his ass to the copy-room … quickly.

--- ** ---

Tatsumi fidgeted a little more as he secured another stack of papers in a folder, placing it next to the other finished copies in a small box he'd taken down with him. The last set of papers was just going through the machine and he'd put everything into the shredder already. A shame, really, he just *loved* doing it – he was not generally a violent person, but there was this immense satisfaction that came with the creaking groan as the paper was drawn through the machine, the sharp knives making short work of it, cutting mercilessly, destroying, tearing… the flutter of copies being automatically stacked stopped short, and Tatsumi forced himself away from happy shredder thoughts.

Filing and stacking the last of his copy work, he wondered where his lover was keeping himself. It was almost noon – actually exactly one minute and seventeen seconds to 12:00, if he wanted to be fastidious – and 003 had been gone for almost ten minutes now. He had, of course, had to ask for her help, and being the intelligent and cooperative little devil she was, she had been keen to offer her services. All she had to do was come find him before noon – which she had done – and then take his note (that he still blushed at having written) up to the scientist.

Frowning, Tatsumi contemplated how long he should wait; 003 was a tiny thing, but she could be fast if she wanted and she was highly unlikely to get lost in the building. Since she would undoubtedly show Watari the way, he could not take … ah, footsteps in the corridor. He only hoped they were his lover's, it would be awkward to try and explain some of the things he had with him, in the small box hidden beneath his pristine copies. Sure enough, the door opened to reveal the blonde, who looked to be slightly out of breath, his owl lodged comfortably on his head.

"Thank you for your help, 003. You'll find a treat on my desk – if you would excuse us now," he smiled as she hooted, flying off immediately, "Do come in, Watari."

"In league with my owl, are you? You're making me more curious by the minute, Tatsumi."

Shadows gathered at his back and he jumped slightly as he heard the click of the lock. His smile widened as his lover winked at him, "I thought you might appreciate some time alone, seeing I've been so busy with the expense reports of late."

Watari remained silent though, waiting, the twinkle in the other man's eyes not lost on him, even though the lighting was somewhat dimmer than he remembered. It certainly was an impressive way of using shadows, creating a hazy atmosphere. So the Shokan division secretary *was* a closet romantic after all…

"I have something to confess, Watari-san," The other man remained silent and Tatsumi continued, eyes coyly downcast, a little nervous. He still wasn't very good at games of this sort, even though he enjoyed playing them. "I lately haven't been taking your needs into consideration and not been there for you every night. I perfectly understand I've been a very bad boy and I will accept any punishment you see fit."

The scientist licked his lips, swallowing hard. That certainly was one hell of a present – he licked his lips again, letting his eyes run down his lover's form, "Take off your shoes, pet – and the trousers too. In fact, strip." His voice was husky and he was whispering, as he had no intention of breaking the mood – his throat had gone far too dry to speak properly anyway.

"As you wish." No one but Tatsumi could infuse so much *tension* into the words, filling them with meaning – need, desire, lust, and acceptance. Power was a heady thing, but surrender was the most precious. Long fingers swiftly pushed the brown suit down broad shoulders, folding it, and placing it onto the box stacked neatly with papers. One workaholic lover he had there – undoing the buttons on his shirt, tucking it out of his trousers in the process. Slow, but efficient, not quite teasing – Tatsumi's breathing sped up just a little bit.

"Look at me, pet." The lovely, stern blue gaze fixed on him, and he smiled, aware of the flush in his own cheeks as he began undressing himself, folding lab coat, jeans, and sweater as neatly as he could – Tatsumi would only be fidgety if he saw a haphazard pile of clothes – aware of his lover's covertly watching him, already finished and waiting for him; he didn't bother getting rid of the tank top and the black leather gloves he still wore.

"Tell me what you've planned for us, pet."

Tatsumi didn't speak, instead pulling out a smaller rectangular box from the one that held his folders, holding it out to Watari. The scientist took it, cautiously opening it – you really never knew with his lover – the man had a few tricks up his sleeve and a quirky sense of humour at times. There was a feathery sort of thing in there (surely not a boa?), mostly covered by something black and shiny, which he touched softly, taking it out, "A silk strap?"

"For my eyes." Watari nodded, smile widening into a grin as he noticed that the feathery tendrils were actually part of a pair of fluffy handcuffs (pretty much a copy of the pink ones they already owned) – in black this time, "And there I thought you liked pink."

"The colour brings back fond memories," Tatsumi allowed himself an indulgent smile, voice very soft and yet clearly enunciated, "but I thought black cuffs would go better with the silk strap."

"Colour-coordination? Where's your sense of adventure?"

His lover didn't reply to his teasing, simply holding out his wrists. Watari crossed the, admittedly small, space between them, bodies almost brushing against each other as he fastened the handcuffs around the other man's wrists; then he took off Tatsumi's glasses and tied the black cloth securely behind his head. It was a rare occurrence for the man to have his eyes covered during sex; while it always created a special intimacy, it involved a measure of submission that went beyond being bound. Knowing just how much trust was placed in him, was one of the things that were arousing and humbling at the same time – and Watari cherished these moments above all others.

"Call me Yutaka, and I'll stop."

He had uttered the same sentence when they first began sleeping with each other, and perhaps it was no longer necessary, could be regarded as a given; still, he never forgot to say it, if only for reassurance, affirmation that the trust given wouldn't be abused. Watari smiled softly, pressing his body along his lover's. Not being able to see rendered the man completely vulnerable and open and he had found out long ago that nothing was as effective at keeping him happy as constantly touching, not breaking contact.

"Tell me what you'd like," he said, lips ghosting against Tatsumi's collarbone, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, hand lazily running down his lover's sides to reach his slowly firming erection. As he wrapped his hand around it, Watari's eyebrow raised, and after looking down to check it was really there, he chuckled. Now *this* certainly was a sign of the man's quirky humour.

"You like it, Watari?"

"Hm. Which of the two do you mean?" His finger slowly travelled up and down the heated hardness, stopping a few times to toy with the *bow* at its base. The same garish yellow ribbon with red dots that had tied the first birthday present Tatsumi had gotten Watari after they became lovers.

"Oh, I do. Very much so." Kinky; and sweet too, but mostly kinky – how could he not like it?

Watari smiled against Tatsumi's mouth, pushing him towards the copier, where he grabbed the short hair and plunged his tongue more deeply between the red, slightly swollen lips. He broke the kiss for a moment to let them catch their breath, then leaned forward again, twining his tongue with his partner's, stroking against it thoroughly, slowly, making Tatsumi moan and tremble against him. His hands were beginning to sweat, so he pulled back to quickly remove his gloves.

"Keep them on," Tatsumi whispered breathlessly, pleadingly. Watari groaned, taking in the sight of his lover perched precariously against the copier, one foot on the ground, the other raised slightly, resting on the machine. His legs parted were on either side of his lover's hips, hands cuffed and touching the wall behind him as he bowed back, arms outstretched, eyes hidden behind the black silk, and throat exposed. Watari smiled ferally; nothing beat *his* man when it came to private displays of sensuality.

"On they'll stay, if you like," he accompanied each word with a soft lick or a breath against Tatsumi's neck, savouring the salty tang of his lover's sweat and the helpless, growling moans he produced. His hands were not idle either, skimming up and down the other man's sides, making sure the leather was in constant contact with warm, trembling skin. He pinched a pebbled nipple and Tatsumi gasped, arching against him, hips bucking up.

"Turn around, pet," his hands on his lover's hips helped steady the motion, then ran up along the muscled torso to the strong arms, making sure they were gripping tightly to the copier even as one of his knees pushed Tatsumi's legs apart, the feel of his erection against the other man's ass as deliciously exciting as the first time.

Watari let one hand slap lightly against the other man's flank, sighing at the gasp, pressing his body forward slightly, the tip of his already slick cock brushing one cheek as his hand struck the other, hard.

"Yessss!" Tatsumi might not like to admit it, but he liked being punished, body jerking at the sting, heat travelling from his ass to his hardness, made so much more real by the silk tie cutting off one of his senses completely. There was only the sound of his and Watari's breath, too loud in the small room, crowding in; the smell of heat, musk, and sweat mixing with damp leather; the feel of strong hands confidently tracing his trembling body, leather almost too rough against the sensitive head of his cock, too much as he was gripped, stroked.

"So bad, been so bad…" he ground out, crying out as his ass was struck again, then another time, the stinging heat almost unbearable, the friction against his cock too much, he moaned, balls drawing up, too close, and he had to *feel* … "Fuck. Me!"

Watari stopped abruptly, groaning; he could've gotten off just feeling Tatsumi jerk against him, talking dirty, the warm, sweaty skin he was grinding himself against, the slap of flesh every time his hand slapped down on the hard ass, "Lube!"

"Forget it, need…" Tatsumi's voice was alternating between a pained mewl and a growl, trailing shivers across Watari's back, and making his groin tighten even more painfully. Shifting a little, he let go of his lover's cock, grabbing his own and trying to smear pre-come down the shaft haphazardly, even as his other hand found Tatsumi's opening, pushing against it, inside, smoothing the way as he guided himself forward, pushing in slowly but without pause.

"Fuck."

"Got a dirty … mouth."

"Punish me." Oh yeah, he would – trusting Tatsumi was bracing his body, Watari pulled out, thrusting back in sharply, just as his gloved hand struck the reddened skin of his lover's ass.

The sensation was incredible and there was so much of it – lights dancing behind his eyelids, colours, pain and pleasure mixed so he didn't know where one ended and the other began and the feel of being stretched; the throbbing burn so much more intense, so *deep*. He groaned, wanting more, unable to say a word, just arching his back, dimly aware of his shirt, plastered to his back, the sweat trickling across his chest, the rasp of their damp skin as they came together, pulled apart.

Watari's leather gloves on his cock again, rough and yet slippery, rubbing, pulling, squeezing, his lover's mouth against his neck, lapping at the sweat, lips so much cooler than their trembling bodies, "You're … heaven," moaned against his skin and he shuddered, his cock jerking in the tight grip, his ass stinging and the hardness inside him so much bigger suddenly, then heat, wet and delicious with one last, agonizingly pleasurable stab to his prostrate.

Tatsumi groaned, shaking his head softly, held upright by strong arms and the copier beneath him, his whole body still tingling. Watari placed a soft kiss against his neck, rubbing his chest, brushing a nipple, making him buck involuntarily. The tie was loosened, his eyes still full of colours as he was turned around and drawn into a quick, sloppy kiss, hands still cuffed, awkwardly bumping against their groins.

"Hm," Watari grinned and winked, pulling back, looking around, "Where did you put the keys for the cuffs?"

"Box," more words would have required more blood flow in his head. He almost considered it a personal insult that his lover could actually think. That his hands were trembling as he tried to fit the key in the lock was a balm to Tatsumi's wounded pride though. He looked down at himself and winced – he was more than a mess. So was the floor and, he cast a look over his shoulder, the copier looked even worse. He should have brought a mop.

"Here, use this to clean up, we'll think about the floor later." Watari was nothing if not practical, offering him the black tank top with a smile. He dabbed at his stomach, stopped, sighed, "We're still going to smell of sex."

"Shower. We can teleport – door's locked, everyone's at lunch. We can get some cloth to clean the room from home."

Tatsumi nodded; feeling arms wrapping around his waist, drawing him close. He relaxed against his lover's body, letting his weight be cradled securely for a few moments. He stole a lengthy kiss, tongues lazily wrapping around each other, swatting Watari's ass as he pulled back, "Let's go; I have to finish lots of paperwork."

He knew his lover was pouting at his back, he could practically *see* the dejection in his eyes, "I reserved a table for 7:30pm at that Italian restaurant Kurosaki-kun favours, I hope that's alright."

"Brilliant." It was a mystery to him how Watari could be so insecure about their relationship at times, when he was supposedly the one with the *issues*. But it wasn't difficult to make the man happy, almost too easy in fact. He was smiled when he turned around, "Happy Anniversary, Watari."

"Back at you, smelly," the scientist held their clothes, grinning as he snuggled close, closing his eyes, "teleporting now, to the bathroom if you please."

His reply was simple, "As you wish."

~~ End. ~~

Endnotes:

Tatsumi and Watari both lived at times when AIDS was not an issue; furthermore, they are Shinigami and I seriously doubt they can contract STDs. Please don't forget condoms during sex. Better be safe than sorry: http://www.aids.org.

For info on all kinds of kinky stuff and slashy insights, visit "Minotaur's Sex Tips for Slash Writers": http://www.squidge.org/~minotaur/classic/eroc.html.