The games begin

You stare at Amy, your heart pounding so hard you’re surprised the whole bullpen can’t hear it. She’s leaning back in her chair with that dangerous, competitive glint in her eyes - the one she usually gets right before destroying you at something. Except this time, she looks like she wants you to destroy her.

“You’re serious?” you whisper, glancing around. Rosa is sharpening a knife. Terry is doing desk push-ups. Holt’s door is closed. No one is paying attention… yet.

“Dead serious,” Amy murmurs, sliding her empty coffee cup across the desk toward you. “Same mug. And this time I want to watch every second. Don’t you dare hide behind your desk.”

The thrill of it makes your spent cock twitch back to life in your pants.

You grab the mug and head toward the small kitchenette alcove just off the bullpen - technically visible from Amy’s desk if she leans the right way. You position yourself so your back is mostly to the room, but angled so Amy has a perfect side view.

She casually stands up, pretending to look for a file on the shelf near the kitchenette, close enough to watch without being too obvious.

You unzip your pants, pull out your already-hard cock, and start stroking. Amy’s eyes are locked on your hand, her lips slightly parted. You can see her thighs pressing together.

You stroke faster, using the memory of her drinking your last load to fuel you. Amy bites her lip hard when she sees you leak precum. She takes a half-step closer, pretending to reach for a different folder.

“Hurry up, Peralta,” she whispers under her breath. “I want it fresh and warm.”

The risk of someone walking over any second is insane. Your hand flies up and down your shaft until your legs start to shake. You aim the head directly into her coffee mug and groan quietly as you unload again - thick, heavy ropes of cum splattering against the bottom of the cup.

Amy watches the entire thing with dark, hungry eyes. When you’re done, you give the mug a little swirl, mixing your fresh load, then casually pour in coffee, sugar, and creamer like nothing happened.

You walk back and set the mug on her desk with a smug little smile.

Amy sits down slowly, crosses her legs, and immediately lifts the cup to her lips. She takes a long, savoring sip right there in the middle of the bullpen, eyes never leaving yours.

“Mmm,” she hums quietly, licking her lips. “Much better than the first one. Warmer.”

She takes another big gulp, then sets the mug down and types something on her computer. A second later your phone vibrates.

Amy: My panties are completely soaked. Meet me in the upstairs storage room in ten minutes. Bring the rest of that coffee.

Ten minutes later you slip into the dimly lit upstairs storage room - a cramped, rarely used space filled with old filing cabinets and dusty boxes.

Amy is already waiting.