Eric’s gaze traced him with clinical precision, evaluating the defined curve of Oliver’s calves, the sinewy strength in his thighs, the lean taper of his waist. His gaze lingered on the soft swell of Oliver’s inner thighs, the faint sheen of sweat already gathering in the crease of his groin. Then, slowly, he lifted his eyes to Oliver’s face. "Better," he murmured, fingertips brushing together. "Now. Let’s discuss your teamwork skills."
Oliver’s jaw tightened. "What the fuck does that mean?" His voice cracked on the last word, betraying the tremor beneath his anger.
Eric’s fingers steepled beneath his chin, the overhead lights casting sharp shadows across his angular face. "Tsk." The sound was soft, almost disappointed. "Why don’t we try that again?" His gaze flicked to Oliver’s clenched fists, then back up to his face. "With the right attitude this time." He gestured lazily toward the desk between them. "Why don’t you get on the desk here? All fours would be acceptable."
Oliver’s breath hitched audibly. His fingers twitched at his sides, the tendons in his forearms standing out like cables beneath his skin. For a heartbeat, his dark eyes burned with defiance, but then his gaze flicked to the discarded salary sheet, the ink smudged where his thumb had gripped it too tightly. His jaw flexed, teeth grinding together hard enough to make his temple pulse. Slowly, with deliberate precision, he placed his palms flat on the desk and hoisted himself up.
The chair groaned in protest as Eric pushed back to give him space. Oliver’s knees hit the mahogany with a dull thud, his body taut with tension as he settled onto all fours. The desk was cool against his bare skin, the surface smooth beneath his palms. His shoulders hunched forward, the muscles in his back standing in sharp relief as he kept his spine rigid.
Oliver's body was lean yet powerful. His black hair, thick and slightly shaggy, fell across his forehead in messy strands that caught the office's fluorescent light, giving the illusion of depth where the dark strands overlapped. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, perpetually shadowed with stubble that was somehow darker than the hair on his head. The stubble trailed down his neck, thinning into smooth skin where his silver chain rested against his Adam's apple, the metal cool against his flushed throat. His shoulders carried the defined musculature of a swimmer and his chest was smooth, barely any hair except for a sparse dusting around his nipples
His cock hung soft between his legs in a good three inches of flushed pink flesh. The veins were faintly visible beneath the skin, tracing delicate pathways along the shaft. His balls were drawn up tight against his body, the skin taut and smooth, a shade darker than the rest of him. A sparse thatch of neatly trimmed pubic hair framed the base of his cock, the dark curls slightly damp with sweat at the roots.
Eric circled him slowly, the soles of his oxfords silent against the carpet. "Good," he murmured, though the word held no warmth. His fingertips traced the dip of Oliver’s spine, feather-light, from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back. Oliver shuddered at the touch, his skin prickling with goosebumps. "But you’re so rigid." Eric’s hand settled firmly between Oliver’s shoulder blades, pressing down until Oliver’s chest dipped closer to the desk. "Relax."
Eric paused behind Oliver, his gaze dragging down the lean muscle of his back to settle on the firm swell of his ass. He gave a soft whistle, low and appreciative. "Yeah," he murmured, fingertips tracing the curve of one cheek. "That'll do." His grip tightened suddenly, fingers digging into the flesh, and Oliver jerked forward with a sharp inhale.
"Stay still," Eric ordered, voice cool as ice. His thumb pressed into the crease where thigh met ass, kneading the muscle there before dragging upward, slow and deliberate. Oliver’s breath hitched audibly as Eric spread him, thumbs pressing into the softness of his inner cheeks before pulling them apart. His hole twitched under the sudden exposure, the pink furl clenching tight against the office’s chill air.
Eric exhaled a soft, warm puff of breath against Oliver’s exposed hole and Oliver shuddered, his shoulders tensing. The moan slipped out before he could stop it, low and involuntary, his hips shifting slightly against the desk. Eric’s fingers tightened in response, nails biting just enough to leave faint crescents in Oliver’s skin.
"Didn’t take you for the moaning type," Eric mused, dragging a fingertip down the sensitive skin just below Oliver’s hole. Oliver’s thighs trembled, his toes curling against the desk’s edge. Eric leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of Oliver’s ear. "But then, I guess the point of this interview is to learn more about each other." His breath was hot against Oliver’s neck. "I'm already learning so much."
"Legs wider," Eric commanded, his voice low and firm as he rifled through the desk drawer with one hand. Oliver hesitated for a fraction of a second before shifting his knees apart, the desk slick beneath his palms. Eric's fingers closed around a small bottle, pulling it free with a quiet click of plastic. The cap flicked open with his thumb, and Oliver flinched as a cold, viscous line of lube dribbled down his cleft.
The liquid pooled at his hole before gravity dragged it lower, dripping onto the desk with a quiet plink. Oliver gasped, his hips jerking forward instinctively. "Fuck, that's cold," he gritted out, his fingers clawing at the polished mahogany.
Eric hummed, nonchalant, as he swiped a finger through the mess, circling Oliver’s twitching hole with deliberate, teasing strokes. Oliver’s breath hitched, his thighs trembling as Eric’s fingertip pressed insistently against his rim. Eric didn't press hard enough to breach, just enough to make his stomach tighten with anticipation. "You’re tight," Eric observed, almost clinically. "Relax."
Oliver choked out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving. "Easy for you to- ah!" His protest dissolved into a moan as Eric’s finger breached him suddenly, the stretch sharp and unforgiving. His back arched, muscles locking as Eric pushed deeper, the drag of his knuckle deliberate.
"Ah, there," Eric murmured, curling his finger just so. Oliver roared, his whole body jerking violently as Eric’s fingertip brushed over his prostate in a bright, electric jolt that radiated up his spine. His cock twitched against his stomach, already half-hard despite himself. "That’s what I’m looking for," Eric purred, pressing down again, firmer this time. Oliver’s moan fractured into a whimper, his hips grinding back shamelessly against Eric’s hand.
"Fuck- fuck," Oliver panted, his forehead pressed to the desk. Eric’s finger twisted inside him, relentless, the pad rubbing rough circles over his prostate until Oliver’s thighs shook. Precum beaded at his tip, dripping onto the wood beneath him as his cock expanded to full hardness, jutting out a straight six inches.
Eric watched, rapt, as Oliver came undone beneath his touch, from the way his shoulders hunched to the way his breath stuttered every time Eric’s finger dragged over that sweet spot. "Good," he murmured, crooking his finger just to hear Oliver’s punched-out gasp. "Very good."
Oliver’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on the desk. "Oh god," he rasped, the word torn from his throat before he could bite it back. Eric chuckled, low and satisfied, and added a second finger without warning.
Oliver howled, his back arching violently as Eric scissored him open, the stretch sharp and white-hot. His cock jerked against his stomach, flushed crimson and leaking steadily now. Eric’s fingers were relentless, twisting and curling, pressing deeper with every thrust until Oliver was writhing beneath him, his moans fractured and desperate.
"Like that?" Eric asked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. He crooked his fingers again, dragging them roughly over Oliver’s prostate, and Oliver sobbed, his hips jerking forward helplessly. "You’re taking it so well," Eric murmured, his free hand smoothing down Oliver’s trembling back. "Just like a good little team player."
Oliver’s breath hitched, whether from the praise or the way Eric’s fingers pressed into him he wasn’t sure, but his body responded regardless, his cock twitching against his stomach. Eric smirked and leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of Oliver’s ear. "I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?"
Oliver barely had time to process the words before Eric’s fingers twisted, curling just so, and Oliver’s vision whited out.
Eric withdrew his fingers with a slick pop, leaving Oliver shuddering and clenching around nothing. "Flip over," he ordered, stepping back to admire the view. Oliver's back arched beautifully, the muscles in his shoulders taut, his ass still twitching from the sudden emptiness. Oliver hesitated for a heartbeat, his breathing ragged, before slowly rolling onto his back. The desk was cold against his spine, his skin sticking slightly to the polished wood where sweat had pooled.
Eric gripped Oliver's thighs, his fingers digging into the lean muscle as he dragged him to the edge of the desk. Oliver's legs fell open bonelessly, his cock standing at full attention, flushed deep red and dripping precum onto his stomach. Eric chuckled, low and satisfied, tracing a finger along the vein on the underside. "Someone's enjoying this," he mused, watching Oliver's abs jump at the touch. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the smooth planes of his torso glistening with sweat, his nipples peaked and sensitive.
Without warning, Eric slid a finger back into him, crooking it just enough to make Oliver's head fall back against the desk with a thud. His eyes squeezed shut, his lips parting around a moan as Eric finger-fucked him lazily, the drag deliberate and maddening. Oliver's thighs trembled, his toes curling against the edge of the desk, his cock leaking steadily onto his stomach. Eric rummaged through the drawer with his free hand, the sound of clinking metal barely registering over Oliver's ragged breathing.
Then- pain. Eric quickly withdrew his finger from Oliver's ass and pinched both of his nipples hard, twisting mercilessly until Oliver yelled, his back bowing off the desk. His cock went instantly soft, the pleasure evaporating under the sharp sting. "Fuck! God! What the hell?" Oliver gasped, hands flying to his chest, rubbing at the sore flesh.
Oliver barely had time to process the click before cold metal encircled his flaccid cock. His head snapped up just in time to see Eric snap the cage shut, the lock clicking into place with finality. "What the- no!" Oliver roared, surging upright, but Eric was already tossing the key. It arced through the air, landing with a metallic rattle before disappearing into a vent on the floor.
Oliver lunged for the cage, fingers scrabbling at the cold metal, and pulled, only to roar in agony as the unforgiving ring yanked at his sensitive skin. He doubled over, cursing through gritted teeth, his thighs trembling.
Eric watched, unmoved, from the edge of the desk. "Don’t bother," he said, "I have the only other key. Aside from the one I just tossed, of course." His smile was all teeth.
"Take it off. Now." Oliver’s voice was raw, his chest heaving.
Eric tilted his head, feigning confusion. "Well, that doesn’t make sense now, does it?" He traced the line of Oliver’s silver chain with a fingertip, letting it clink against the cage. "After all, we just put it on. And it matches your chain so well."
Oliver’s nostrils flared. "I’m not playing."
Eric’s expression hardened. "Neither am I." The air in the office thickened. "Shut up and lay back down." His voice dropped to a whisper. "On your back. Now."
Oliver hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides, before exhaling sharply and reclining onto the desk. The table was cool against his shoulder blades, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
Eric unzipped his pants and tugged out his cock. It stood at full attention, a thick, perfectly straight seven inches of flesh. Eric uncapped the lube again, pouring a thick stream over his own cock, hissing slightly at the cold. He fisted himself lazily, watching Oliver’s throat bob as the slick sounds filled the room.
Without warning, Eric grabbed Oliver’s ankles, yanking him to the edge of the desk with a rough scrape. Oliver’s legs fell open, his cock twitching in its cage. Eric lined up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against Oliver’s loosened hole. "Breathe," he ordered, and pushed in.
Oliver gasped, his back arching off the desk as Eric breached him in one slow, excruciating thrust. The stretch burned- Eric was thicker than his fingers, his cock unrelenting as it forged deeper. Oliver’s fingers scrabbled at the desk, his nails unable to find purchase. When Eric’s head popped past the tight ring of muscle, Oliver moaned, high and punched-out, his caged dick jerking against the metal confinement.
Eric paused, savoring the clench around him. "Fuck, you’re tight," he murmured, dragging his thumbs over Oliver’s hipbones. "Even after prep." He rolled his hips experimentally, and Oliver’s breath stuttered, his thighs trembling. The cage prevented him from getting fully hard, but precum beaded at the tip regardless, dripping onto his stomach in thin, glistening strands.
"Stop- fuck- stop talking," Oliver gritted out. Eric chuckled, low and dark, and sheathed himself fully in one brutal thrust. Oliver howled, his body bowing off the desk, his caged cock straining uselessly against the metal. Eric pinned his hips down, holding him flush against the desk as he began a slow, grinding rhythm.
Oliver writhed beneath him, his moans fractured and desperate. Every drag of Eric’s cock over his prostate sent electric jolts up his spine, his body torn between pleasure and the cruel denial of the cage. His thighs shook, his toes curling against Eric’s ribs. "Fuck- fuck, please-" The plea slipped out before he could bite it back, his voice cracking.
Eric smirked, slowing his thrusts to a maddening crawl. "Please what?" He punctuated the question with a sharp snap of his hips, and Oliver sobbed, his fingers scrabbling at the desk. "Use your words, Oliver." He dragged a fingertip along Oliver’s straining abs, collecting the precum smeared there.
Oliver’s chest heaved and a broken moan tore from his throat as Eric resumed pounding into him, each thrust precise and punishing. His caged dick ached, the metal biting into his flushed skin with every jolt of pleasure.
Eric's ash-blond hair, usually meticulously swept back from his high forehead, had begun to darken at the roots with sweat, strands slipping loose to cling to his temples. The overhead lights caught the dampness along his hairline, turning his dark ash blonde into uneven streaks of gold where the moisture gathered.
His suit jacket had been discarded earlier, leaving him in a tailored white dress shirt that clung to his lean torso where sweat had seeped through. The fabric stretched taut across his narrow shoulders, the sleeves rolled precisely to mid-forearm to reveal sinewy arms corded with wiry strength. His silver cufflinks caught the light with every controlled movement, glinting like his cold grey eyes.
The shirt remained neatly tucked into his trousers despite the violent thrusting of his hips, the belt buckle gleaming dully against the strained fabric of his fly. His cock jutted obscenely from the parted zipper, thick and rigid at a perfect seven inches, the flushed head glistening with a mix of precum and leftover lube. Prominent veins traced the underside, pulsing with each brutal snap forward into Oliver's writhing body.
Beneath the shirt, Eric's chest rose and fell with measured breaths, the only hint of physical strain betraying his otherwise detached demeanor. His abdomen remained flat beneath the crisp cotton, the faint outline of his hipbones visible where the fabric stretched tight with every movement.
Oliver's thighs trembled violently as Eric's thrusts grew erratic, his own caged cock throbbing uselessly against the metal restraint. "Please. Please-" The words tore from his throat, raw and desperate, his fingers clawing at the desk's edge. "I'm so fucking- ah!- horny, let me out-" His hips jerked involuntarily as Eric's cock dragged over his prostate again, a fresh bead of precum dribbling from the cage's tip. Eric ignored him, his breath hitching as he gripped Oliver's hips tighter, his rhythm stuttering.
When Eric came, it was with a low, guttural groan, his body locking abruptly as he buried himself to the hilt. Oliver felt the hot pulse deep inside him, each twitch of Eric's cock wringing a ragged whimper from his own lips. Eric's fingers dug bruisingly into Oliver's flesh, his hips grinding forward in shallow, possessive jerks as he emptied himself, filling Oliver with thick, relentless spurts.
Then, just as suddenly, Eric pulled out, leaving Oliver's hole gaping around nothing, the sudden emptiness wringing a broken moan from him. Cum dripped out of his hole and down his thighs, pooling beneath him on the desk. Eric didn't spare him a glance as he tucked his softening cock back into his pants, zipping up with deliberate calm.
Oliver's chest heaved, his voice cracking. "Take it off- fuck, please- I need to cum-" He tugged uselessly at the cage, the metal biting into his flushed skin.
Eric smoothed a hand over his shirt, adjusting his cufflinks. "I don't think that's appropriate yet," he mused, his tone conversational as he reached for the landline. His fingers dialed with precise clicks, the receiver pressed to his ear. Oliver's legs trembled, his hole still clenching around phantom fullness.
The line connected after two rings. "Ethan," Eric said, his voice smooth, "please do come to my office. I want to discuss Oliver's interview with you." He hung up without waiting for a reply.
Oliver went rigid. "No-" His protest was raw, panicked. Eric merely arched a brow, stepping back to survey the wreckage of Oliver spread shamelessly on the desk, his caged cock twitching pathetically, his hole still leaking cum.
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