So, let’s talk about Bryce.
If you’ve been on the floor long enough, you know Bryce. Senior Associate. Loud, ripped, confident in that way only guys who’ve never known rejection can be. He plays it smooth in meetings, but behind closed doors? Total chaos. Always got the funniest take in the group chat. Always starting shit. And always, always, saying the exact thing HR wishes you wouldn’t.
“Dan, suck my dick,” he once told me across the bullpen while we were reviewing a leverage model. Loud enough for the intern to look up from the copier. And he didn’t flinch. Just tossed it out like a casual “pass the reports.”
It’s like his catchphrase. I’ve heard it in team meetings, walking out of elevators, once while washing my face next to him in the locker room. It’s never not funny. He gets away with it because it is a joke. Or at least, everyone pretends it is. That’s Bryce’s magic, say the wildest shit, grin like a frat boy, and somehow you’re still everyone’s favorite.
He’s also shredded. Always “between bulks,” as he puts it. Thick arms, trim waist, chest that fills out every button-down. Hair buzzed tight. Ass like a fucking shelf under those tailored pants. And yeah - I notice. We all do. He gives off that energy where you either wanna be him or suck the cocky right out of him.
He and I? We go way back. Been on the same team since I started. And yeah, we joke around. Say filthy shit. Nothing serious. I give it back as good as I get. The game’s been going on for years. Until this Friday.
It was supposed to be a normal night. Happy hour ended early. A few of us hit beers and sliders with the juniors around 7. By 9:30, the whole squad had dipped. But our VP...classic overachiever mode dragged Bryce and me back to the office. Said the hedge fund deck needed cleanup before Monday. “Quick polish,” he claimed. A few comps, cleanup on historicals, tweak the narrative on our alpha capture and he left leaving us to do the work. That's just corporate life.
We were like, whatever. Finish it, head out, maybe hit one more bar.
But by 11:30 , it was still just us. Lights dim. Office empty. My shirt was clinging to me under the AC, and Bryce had stripped down to just his undershirt. You could see his chest through it, sweat-darkened around the pecs.
I went to grab a printout and crouched down near my desk to tie my shoe - again. Those laces come loose every hour, I swear. I muttered under my breath, “Fucking hate these,” and leaned forward, fumbling with the loop.
That’s when I saw him. He was closer than before. Like, way closer. I didn’t even hear him walk over. I just noticed suddenly that he was standing directly in front of me. Grey dress pants. Stretched tight across his legs. That sharp center crease hugging his quad like it was painted on. His bulge sat heavy behind the fly, barely contained by the fabric. You know that thick, soft kind of hang some guys have when they’re not hard but definitely not small? Yeah. That.
I didn’t move. Not immediately. Just stayed crouched, one hand on my laces, the other resting on my knee, like if I stayed still long enough this would just be another Bryce bit. Just another fucked-up locker room moment we’d laugh off later.
Then I heard his voice. “About time I got you on your knees, Dan.”
I looked up. He had that same grin he always did. That playful, I-dare-you smirk that he’d worn every time he told me to suck his dick and laughed it off. But this time it hit different. We were alone. Office quiet. Nobody around to wink at. No audience.
“Easy,” I said, smirking back. “I’m just tying my damn shoes.”
He shrugged. “That what we’re calling it now?”
I didn’t stand. Didn’t move. Just looked up at him, still crouched. My eye level was right at his fly.
“You’ve been talking shit for months,” I said. “Always telling me to suck you off. Maybe it’s time you followed through.”
His brow went up. “You serious?”
“I dare you,” I said. “Whip it out.”
Bryce let out a low laugh. “No chance.”
“You scared?” I tilted my head. “I get it. Big talker. Can’t deliver.”
That did it.
He muttered, “Fuck you,” under his breath, but reached down anyway. Unzipped slowly, like he was daring himself. Then he slipped his hand inside and adjusted something like he was testing the weight. He didn’t pull it out. Just let me see the outline behind his underwear. It was thick even like that. Dense. Obvious.
Then I said it. The line that tipped it. “If you actually pull your cock out in this office, right now, with the CCTV rolling...I’ll suck it. Right here. No questions asked.”
He stared at me.
I was still crouched. Looking up. My neck was tilted, but I held his gaze.
Bryce undid the top button of his slacks. No hesitation. Slid them down his thighs. Thicker than I expected; hairy, solid, gym-cut legs that looked like they could crush a set of squats without breaking form.
Then he hooked his thumbs under his waistband. And dragged them down. His cock spilled out. Just like that. No buildup, no warning. It hung low, half-hard, heavy, with a curve that made me blink twice. The head flushed already, thick vein running the length. There was something so casual about the way he just stood there, letting it swing free. Like this was a flex he’d been dying to make real.
I stared.
Said nothing for a second. Then laughed. A little breathless. “Jesus fucking Christ, Bryce,” I muttered. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
He just looked down at me. Smirking again. “Dan,” he said, voice low, like he was still half-laughing. “You’ve been talking a lot of shit.” Then he glanced down at himself, at the thick weight hanging between his legs. “So go on, bro. It's out now”
He met my eyes. “Suck my dick.”
The air got still. We weren’t laughing anymore. He wasn’t grinning as wide. I wasn’t moving. Still crouched at his feet like I was tying a shoe, except now there was a half-hard cock hanging right in front of me, thick and flushed and swinging with every breath he took.
He’d actually done it.
Unbuttoned. Unzipped. Dropped his pants and underwear like we weren’t in a midtown office tower. Like there weren’t CCTV cameras probably recording from three angles. Like it was funny.
I looked at Bryce's cock. Right there in front of my face dangling. Big. Not ridiculous but heavy. Thick base, curved up slightly, foreskin pulled back just enough to show the slick head, darker and veiny. Bryce didn’t shave everything either. Just trimmed. Full balls. Dense at the base. Masculine in that casual way guys like him always are...like he didn’t have to try.
I didn’t say anything for a second.
Then I reached out. Not dramatic. Just a single hand, palm open, like I was going to take a measurement. Bryce twitched slightly when I touched his cock. The base was warm. Heavy. He was getting harder in my hand.
“Jesus. man,” he muttered.
He trailed off. Didn’t move. Just stood there, hands at his sides, shirt half-tucked, his cock rising in my grip.
“Still think I’m joking?” I said.
He laughed under his breath. “I mean… fuck. Guess not.”
But he didn’t stop me. Didn’t push my hand away when I gave it a little stroke. Didn’t flinch when I let my thumb press lightly beneath the head and watched his abs twitch through the fabric of his undershirt. We were quiet. Just us. Soft office hum, the buzz of monitors we forgot to shut off, distant traffic echoing from the street.
Then I leaned forward. Close.
Close enough to smell him; like whiskey and fabric softener and that faint, musky sweat guys only get after lifting heavy. My nose brushed his lower belly. His cock twitched. I could feel it against my cheek.
“You sure about this?” I asked.
Bryce laughed. But it was tighter this time. “Fuck, Dan, you think I’d have my cock out if I wasn’t?”
He said it like he was still in control.
He wasn’t.
I looked up. Met his eyes. Then I licked his cock. Just one slow pass, base to tip. Flat of my tongue dragging upward, catching the warm skin, the taste of sweat, and that sharp, unmistakable flavor of cock. Not clean. Not dirty. Just raw.
“Shit,” he breathed.
I smiled.
“You’re twitchy.”
“You’re insane,” he said. “This is the office.”
“Then don’t moan so loud, bro.”
I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, let it rest against my tongue for a second. Felt the pulse of it. Felt him start to grow even more. His cock was throbbing now. Bryce looked down, mouth parted like he didn’t know what to say. “Bro,” he muttered. “Fuck. I don’t know what the fuck I’m even doing right now.”
“Chill,” I said, letting him go with a soft pop. “Don’t be precious about it. Be a man and enjoy the fucking blowjob”
That made him laugh. Real, from-the-gut laughter. “You’re such a dick.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said. “And yours is in my mouth”
I gripped the base again, steadying him, and went back in. Slower now. Let my mouth ease down, little by little. Felt the stretch of him at the back of my throat. My lips slid over the ridge of his cockhead, the curve, the weight of him. Bryce swore again. Hands on his hips now, fingers twitching like he didn’t know if he should grab me or shove me or just stand there and take it.
He did the last thing.
Took it. Stood there cocky. Let me work my mouth around his cock while his legs tensed and his shirt stuck tighter to his chest. I pulled back, spat lightly in my palm, stroked him a little faster, then went back in. He hit deeper that time. Warm and slick and heavy on my tongue.
“You’re really doing this,” he muttered.
“Mmhmm.”
“This isn’t..fuck...this isn’t even gay, right?”
I pulled off for a second, letting his cock bounce lightly against his abs.
“Bro,” I said. “It’s a stress relief strategy. Shut the fuck up and enjoy it while I am in the mood.”
That made him laugh again. Then moan.
“Shit.”
“Just keep it down,” I said, licking the underside of his shaft. “Last thing we need is security catching us.”
He reached for the desk behind him like he needed to steady himself. I watched his knuckles go white.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered. “Your mouth’s fucking insane.”
“You say that to all your analysts?”
“Just the ones with DSL,” he grinned. (Dick Sucking Lips for reader who don't know what DSL means)
“You wish.”
I went back down, took him a little deeper. Let him hit the back of my throat and stay there for a second. His thighs flexed. His breathing changed.
“Dan,” he muttered. “Shit. Fuck. You’re..fucking... craz..”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Didn’t need to.
I could feel it. The shift. The twitch. The building heat in his cock. The way his hips started to move just slightly, testing it, pushing forward like instinct took over. I let him. Hands behind my back now. Let him own the rhythm. Let him feed it to me.
“Dan,” he breathed.
I looked up.
“You want your protein now or after your shake?”
He barked a laugh.
“Fuck it,” he said.
He came hard.
One hand slapped the desk behind him. The other tangled in his own shirt. He didn’t pull out. Just groaned through gritted teeth, letting every pulse of it land on my tongue, against the back of my throat. Warm. Sharp. Salty. I swallowed without breaking eye contact. Just stayed there, mouth full, jaw aching, as his cock twitched one more time. Then slowly pulled off.
Bryce was breathing like he’d run a lap. Shirt damp. Hair messed. Hands still braced like he didn’t trust his own legs.
He looked down at me. Eyes wide. “You swallowed.”
I licked my lips. “You moaned, bro.”
He stared. Then started to laugh again. “Fuck, Dan,” he said. “If you tell Sarah from HR, I’ll kill you.”
“I won’t,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “But I’m telling the intern.”
He zipped up fast, shaking his head.
“You’re a menace.”
“Eh.”
“You’re not even gonna stand up?”
“I like the view.”
“Dude.”
“You liked it.”
He didn’t deny it. Just grabbed his laptop and said, “Let’s never talk about this again.”
"You bet."
──୨ৎ──
We talked about it again. Monday.
Morning came like nothing had happened. Bryce was back in his tailored suit, hair perfect, button-down tight against his chest. Team meeting at 9:00. I was flipping through deck pages when he slid into the chair next to me, leaned close, and whispered:
“Dan, suck my dick.”
Like always.
Except this time?
He winked.
Only we both knew that it had already happened.
Next up, you'll get to hear about my boss.
Let’s just say that Senior VP I mentioned earlier, yeah... the one who moaned at the urinal?
Yeah. You're gonna meet him. He might have seen the CCTV footage of me on my knees gagging on Bryce's cock in the middle of the bullpen. Fuck. Let's see if I am fired or do I need to make up to him somehow.
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