Chapter 7
The next morning, the urge to call in sick is almost overwhelming.
Samuel doesn’t feel great after all the alcohol, but it’s mostly emotional nausea that made him want to stay home.
The only way he could've been more sexually aggressive towards his boss was if he bent over and presented his hole to the man with a bull's-eye marked out in lube, right in the center.
At least he didn’t do that.
Now he can barely stand the idea of meeting up with Lex. Letting some stranger have him when he’s kissed the man of his dreams and had his arms wrapped around him is intolerable.
It's ridiculous, he can't get his hopes up. His boss never even looked at him as a sexual creature before two days ago. And he hadn’t contemplated his own gayness until twelve hours ago.
So he’s doing his best to have no expectations. Which means he needs to respond to Lex and try to go back to being the desperately needy boy willing to accept anything so long as he was promised a few hot meals, cuddling, and tucking in at bedtime with a stuffed animal.
He doesn’t respond to Lex. Maybe after lunch?
By 11:30 AM, Samuel is ready to lose his damn mind. He gives up waiting for his boss to appear and goes for lunch with a friend from accounting. A straight friend who is happy to have a gay friend to gossip with, and who is quite good at carrying on a one-sided conversation when the need arises.
Samuel has nothing to say, especially since no one at work knows about his kinky lifestyle, and they certainly don’t know he’s in love with his boss.
He makes it back to the office at one, dragging his feet and running an errand that probably should have waited until his own personal time, but screw it.
Bryan’s office door is open, and the lights are on when he returns. He stops in front of his own desk, taking his coat and scarf off quietly, trying not to attract any attention. He sits down in his chair, and it squeaks.
“Samuel?” Bryan says his voice loud enough to carry out to his desk.
“Shit,” he whispers to himself and pulls out a mirror to check his appearance. Hair is in place, no food in his teeth, no bats in the cave, and a piece of gum because why the hell not?
He leans into Bryan’s office, keeping the doorframe as protection. “You rang?”
“Come in. Close the door. And please lock it, I don’t want to be disturbed for this conversation,” he says. He glances at Samuel and then looks away. The man doesn’t even smile. Samuel knows last night wasn’t a fever dream, but he’d expected some acknowledgment of what had happened.
This isn’t good.
Samuel’s stomach is in knots, and he keeps his gaze trained on the carpet as he goes closer. He sits down in a chair, back straight and palms sweating. “I don’t have paper or my laptop, should I go get them?” And maybe I just run away, he thinks desperately.
“Don’t worry about that. How do you feel after last night?”
“Uh. Fine. Thanks.”
“Any regrets?” Bryan asks.
Samuel has to look up now. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, trying to read his boss’ face and still getting nothing. “Should I have regrets? Do you have regrets?”
His face relaxes, a hint of a smile flashing across his lips. They look soft. Not overly large or small, just good lips that would be nice to kiss, and okay, yeah, Samuel could definitely imagine sucking on his boss’s bottom lip if he was given the chance.
“I suppose I regret that it took me as long as it did to think about my life and what I want.”
“Oh. Is that right?” Samuel asks and shifts on the chair. He can’t get too excited because that could mean anything. “Should I help you set up a Grindr profile?” He forces a laugh.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll make my own arrangements.”
That hits like an emotional bomb. “Great. Well, I’m happy to hear it,” he says, insincere as hell and not sure he’s hiding it well.
“No harm, no foul, right? I know I asked for Monday off, but if I could get the rest of the afternoon, too, that would be really appreciated,” he says, hoping he can keep up a mask of intrigued indifference.
As if his heart isn’t breaking because Mr. Demarco is going to explore Grindr rather than Samuel.
Mr. Demarco blinks at him. Thick dark lashes sweeping down and then back up again. Is he looking at Samuel’s mouth?
“If I gave you the afternoon off, where would you go?” he asks, voice silky.
“You know where I’m going.”
“Then the answer is no.”
“Sir,” he says, and gets to his feet. This is actually a lot worse than he expected it to be. He might have to quit, after all. How will he see this man every day and not only know he can’t have him but also endure the humiliation of not being wanted?
“Come here, please. There’s an issue with my computer.”
“I can call IT,” he offers, taking a step towards the door.
“No, I can’t wait that long. Come here, Samuel,” he says, enunciating each word clearly but with a hint of bite to the words.
A tone to be obeyed. The sort of tone that makes Samuel hard.
A tone that makes him think of proving himself, of needing to give a lot and pay attention to his Daddy, or else be punished harshly.
Samuel’s shoulders drop in resignation, and he goes around his boss’s desk. He has to. It isn’t in him to disobey. He wants a strict Daddy who monitors him closely, has high expectations, but who adores him completely. Kind words and affection from a hard man.
Bryan pushes back from the desk so Samuel can see the screen and use the mouse and keyboard.
“What’s wrong with it?”
His boss grabs his hips and pulls him down so he’s sitting on his lap. “Mr. Demarco!” he gasps, shocked. He tries to stand back up, but an arm wraps around his waist, holding him there firmly.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he rasps, voice low and lips pressed close to Samuel’s ear.
“I don’t know. Back to… work? Or, um, your computer?” His voice is strangely high.
“I don’t think so,” he says, and his free hand slips between Samuel’s legs, slides high up his thigh, and settles in the crease of his groin so his thumb can brush over the fly of Samuel’s wool slacks.
“S-Sir?” He manages, almost stuttering for the first time in his life. But this is too much.
“Your exact words were that I would need to come at you like a wrecking ball if I decided I want you. Have you changed your mind?”
“N-no.”
“Good. I’m glad. I have something for you in my desk.
Do you want to open the drawer and see what it is?
” The words make him shiver. His boss exhales, and it raises the hair on the back of Samuel’s neck.
He can smell his boss’s cologne, his aftershave, maybe his soap.
He smells so rich and masculine. So clean and expensive.
It’s dizzying, and Samuel is viciously aware of how hard his cock is, that his balls throb from getting hard so fast. And he feels slow and stupid with lust.
“Okay.” He tries to lean forward, but Mr. Demarco’s hand grips his balls in his hand and squeezes until he whimpers and goes still.
He leans back against his Sir, turns his head, and rubs the tip of his nose against the man’s jaw.
“Hurts,” he whispers, barely managing to keep the word Daddy from slipping out.
“Then you better not even think of going to a man named Ballbuster.”
“I won’t,” he manages.
“No, you won’t,” he says, and strokes his fingers softly over Samuel’s hard cock. Samuel moans and rocks up into his boss’s hand. “Now then, don’t you think you should be more polite and grateful when Daddy offers you a present?”
“Daddy?” He repeats. “Are you… sure? Are you doing this for you or because I want it?” He tries to look over his shoulder, but has to lean forward to do so, and that presses his boss’s cock between his cheeks.
He’s big and hard beneath Samuel, and it’s a revelation to know that he’s actually wanted by this man.
He grunts at the pressure. “I promise you that I wouldn’t even consider doing any of this if I didn’t want it. Want you. I haven’t slept in days. I’ve never needed to come so much in my life. I want to ruin you, Samuel. Keep you and have you all the time.”
“Yes.” His brain is filled with static and it’s hard to think.
“Congratulations, Sammy. You now have a Daddy. I hope that’s what you wanted because that’s where we are. I can’t imagine going back.”
“That’s what I wanted.” He half turns, needing to be kissed.
The kiss is aggressive from the start, Samuel relenting instantly, letting his mouth open as his boss’s tongue is pressed into his mouth.
He’s kissed roughly, his bottom lip is bitten, and then one leg is pushed open, and his balls are being fondled again through his pants.
“Open them. Show me what’s mine?” It’s barely a question, mostly an order.
“Yes, Daddy. Anything,” he breathes and struggles to open his own pants, fingers clumsy with desire.
The button gives, the zipper is down, and then his hands are shoved out of the way, and Mr. Demarco’s hand worms inside, gripping his balls and then the shaft of his cock.
The head gets squeezed through the material, and then he rakes his nails up Samuel’s shaft, the sensation sharp and shivery through the thin material of his briefs.
Samuel hisses in pleasure, head rolling side to side at the perfect touch. He doesn’t want softness. Carelessly rough is how he’d described it in the email. “Yes, oh god,” he gasps, gripping the arms of the chair tightly.
He presses a hard, open-mouthed kiss to Samuel’s throat and then nips him.
“Oh, fuck. Hurt me, Daddy,” he whispers.
His nipple is pinched hard through his shirt.
And then his Daddy growls at him and shoves his hand through the gap between the buttons, and one of them pops open.
He grinds down against his Daddy’s cock, imagines the man ripping his shirt off in his haste to have Samuel naked.