The Real Boss

"What makes me laugh, Kyle, is that you somehow think you're entitled to a break when this is your fault to begin with." Kyle's boss throws the file at him, running a giant hand through his chestnut brown, shoulder length hair, head shaking in disappointment. He catches the file, just, holding his breath. "I want it redone, edited, fixed and submitted to me within the next four hours, or it's your ass. Do you hear me, Kyle? Do you hear what I'm saying to you?"

"Yes, Sir."

The CEO of LipCorp narrows his eyes at him, lips twitching like he's about to lay into him. He looks stressed, broad shoulders tense and one shift in the wind away from snapping.

"Get out."

Kyle doesn't need to be told twice, darting out of his chair and escaping through the door to freedom, heart in his throat and vision swimming. That's his first time being called into CEO Lipton's office, and he cannot begin to describe how terrified he is of the experience.

He heard rumours beforehand about what it's like, seen women and men breaking down at their desks after getting a verbal smackdown, calling their partners to let them know that they would be home later because they needed to leave in CEO Lipton's good graces.

One time, he stormed out of his office, marched over to someone's desk, unplugged their computer and threw it on the ground, shattering it to pieces. He calmly asked them why he did that, and they guessed that it was because they were watching porn and caught a virus, which the CEO confirmed with a terse nod, pointed to the door and everyone watched their walk of shame out of the 16th floor office space.

No one has been flagged for watching porn since then.

Another time, he manhandled an ex employee all the way out of his office, handing him off to security. He was shaking after, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his neck and soaking his shirt. 

That's when Kyle met the CEO's husband for the first time. He's an extremely good looking man, and although Kyle doesn't swing that way, he can easily understand the appeal. Younger than the CEO by about 10 years is the speculation around the office, Hunter (or, Mr Greyson, as CEO Lipton has snapped at them to refer to him by) seems to be the only thing on the planet that can steal the CEO's attention and get him to smile.

Kyle remembers it vividly. Hunter had turned up after getting a call from the CEO, saw the state he was in, asked someone politely for some paper towels and proceeded to wipe the sweat off his neck and face, chiding him for letting it get to him so much. He told him he had a change of shirt for him and then led him to his office. They didn't come out for three hours and everyone assumed that the CEO wasn't just changing his shirt in there.

Hours later when Hunter left the office, Kyle caught a glimpse of Ross staring after him. His features were soft, sated, happy, warm like melted butter as he reverently watched Hunter's retreat, waving at him when Hunter turned at the exit to wave back and smile at him.

Even more shockingly, he didn't chew someone's head off for the few typos on a very important sales report. He told them rather calmly and placidly to redo it and then get on home.

The next time Kyle saw them together, it was at the fifth year anniversary of LipCorp. The CEO didn't leave Hunter's side the entire night, only having eyes for him when he was talking to CEO Lipton's business partners, charming them with blinding smiles and eye crinkles. CEO Lipton kept an arm slung over Hunter's shoulders all the way through, and Hunter, although Kyle's not certain, tucked the CEO against his side with a possessive hand on his hip.

Word around the water cooler is that the CEO is absolutely gone for his husband, always speaking in soft tones and looking like he's about to melt into a puddle of joy the moment Hunter enters the office.

Speaking of which, Kyle's head turns at the sound of hurried chatter, silenced seconds later by the CEO's door slamming against the wall. He strides down the steps, looking wound tighter than the Tin Man caught out in the rain, getting closer and closer to seizing.

Mr Greyson is here.

===

Hunter was relaxing, reading something on his tablet when his phone went off. It was Ross, his husband of four years calling him. He knew the second he spoke that he was needed, even before Ross said the exact words 'I need you, please'. So Hunter set his tablet down, yawned and stretched, changed into something a bit more fit for the office and hopped in his car.

Being the husband of a CEO of a fortune 500 company definitely has its perks. Hunter doesn't have to work, the one thing Ross insisted on, explaining to him that it would literally be redundant with how much money he makes. He's not wrong. Hunter didn't fight it, really, attracted to the idea of getting to do whatever he wanted while Ross made the big bucks, anticipating the moment his husband came through the doors with a tired sigh and a hurt puppy look, falling into Hunter's waiting arms.

He cooks a lot of the time, having been a chef for a couple of years prior to meeting Ross at an event. He remembers Ross's eyes boring into the side of his head, compelling him to turn around. It was like all those wimpy songs meshed into one. A thunder in his heart. His heart went oops. Ross came in like a wrecking ball, and offered Hunter that thing that he always felt like he was missing in his life.

A home.

Well, Hunter wasn't homeless. But Ross became his home that first night they spent hours chatting, getting closer and closer together. Hunter wasn't put off by Ross being 34 years of age to Hunter's 22, or that he was a driven businessman looking to make a name for himself with his company LipCorp. His status never once crossed his mind because Ross came undone underneath him without Hunter having to even suggest it.

They went up to Ross's massive penthouse suite, Hunter shoved Ross up against the wall, attacked his mouth, his neck, his throat, shoved his hand down his pants and squeezed his firm ass in his palms. Ross had gasped and begged him to fuck him, and, after a whole hour of bringing Ross closer and closer to the edge, denying him at the final hurdle, Hunter eventually made a home for himself inside Ross's tight, clenching channel and preened when Ross came with his name on his lips.

Ross proposed to him two months later. Hunter didn't hesitate to say yes, having already carved out a place in his soul for Ross to remain even after death. On their wedding day, there may as well have not been anyone else in the room with them, Ross's eyes never wavering, a dimpled smile on his face and soft eyes only for him. He complimented him on his suit, told him how badly he wanted to sink to his knees and swallow Hunter whole, and Hunter dragged Ross away from the assembly hall without a second thought, face-fucking him in their private suite, holding his cock in Ross's throat and praising him for not gagging, calling him a good boy, a good husband.

At that, Ross came in his pants. Hunter cleaned his cock with his lips and tongue and dripped it into Ross's waiting, gaping mouth. His husband had swallowed it without question, lolling his tongue out for more, always so needy. Hunter indulged him with an extra long, deep kiss with so much tongue and spit it was kind of ridiculous, shiny strings keeping them together when they parted.

Afterwards, Hunter sat at the head of the bed, reading their congratulatory cards out while Ross warmed his cock with his ass and rolled his hips contentedly. And, when Hunter had tired of reading cards and felt himself throbbing in Ross's tight heat, he flipped him over and gave it to him long and deep, commanded Ross to come and watched his big, long, beautiful cock gush like a hose.

Unfortunately, Ross had to go back home to his office while they were on their honeymoon. It was the only fallout they've ever had because Ross decided to sneak out while Hunter was asleep and flew back home, leaving him to wake up alone in bed and panic that Ross had left him on their honeymoon night. He told Hunter that he couldn't handle the thought of having to say it to his face, so he left like a coward.

Hunter has since gotten over it, but sometimes he thinks Ross still feels guilty, even if it has been smooth sailings ever since. Ross promised never to duck out on him again, that Hunter deserves to be informed if he's going to suddenly abandon him, and he hasn't gone back on his word that he would make sure Hunter was fully aware from then on.

Dismissing that thought, Hunter steps off the elevator for floor 16, smiles at the desk clerk and waits for the doors to buzz and let him in. The office is alive with chatter the moment he enters (as is always the case, rampant speculation about his position in Ross's life, he supposes, not that he cares at all what they presume to know). He pays them no mind, eyes focused on the door to Ross's office swinging wide and hitting the wall.

Okay. Damn. He's really stressed.

Hunter watches him approach, catalogues how he's moving like he needs an oil change. Stiff shoulders, rigid back, tight neck, lines of frustrations on his face and fists clenched. Seems his boy needs a complete work through.

Ross looks like he wants to collapse to his knees and hug Hunter's middle and never let him go so he needs to get him in his office, to privacy. He quickly steps forward, takes Ross's hand in his and walks him back to his office, disregarding everyone around him.

His husband is stressing the fuck out and it's time he does his one job.

As soon as they're in Ross's office, away from prying eyes, Hunter lets Ross sag into him, arms coming around him, hugging him tight. Ross starts grumbling about his frustrations while Hunter strokes his hair and tells him it's okay, he's here, he's got him, and Ross deflates, falling to his knees, burying his face in Hunter's crotch and breathing in him in greedy nosefuls.

"I need you, Hunter. Please. I'm losing it. If this deal doesn't go through, then—"

Hunter shushes him, tilts his head back, smoothes his hands through his hair, lightly grinding his crotch into Ross's face, letting him mouth and lick the fabric.

"Don't worry about that, okay? There's time to think about that when you're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I'm here, and I'm gonna take care of you, like I always do. Do you trust me?"

Ross nods, whimpers and yearns, mouthing a wet spot by Hunter's zipper, groaning deep in his throat with rampant hunger.

"I know, I know, sweetheart. I know what you need," he says, pushing Ross's eager head away so he can tuck his pants underneath his balls and nudge the tip of his leaking cock at Ross's waiting lips. Ross salivates, eyes getting misty as he locks them on Hunter's cock with laser focus. "What do you think they'd say, huh, Lip? If they saw you like this, drooling to get my cock in your mouth? Knowing that their big, tough SOB boss is down on his knees aching for just a taste of his husband's cock?"

Ross's breath catches in his throat and he whines. Hunter reaches around, snares his hair in a fine grip and guides the head of his cock through the part of Ross's lips and tells him to start sucking.

===

Whenever the CEO's husband is here, he tends to never leave his office or pay attention to what any of them are doing outside of it, so it's pretty common for clusters to start gathering around to chat about shit. Kyle's not getting involved. He has work to do. Tuning them out is very difficult, however.

"The Boss's husband must be some male model or something. I mean, right?"

"Or a male escort turned live-in house husband."

"You don't think the Boss is attractive enough to meet people outside of a service?"

"What? No. Of course not. It's just that he works such late hours, I can't imagine he'd have time to really meet someone and fall in love like that."

"I'm pretty sure Hunter was a chef or something, and he was hired to cater one of the Boss's events."

"Really? I thought he was a toy boy."

"Nah. The Boss literally worships the ground that man walks on, and I'm confident that Hunter feels the same way."

"Hey, if you pay someone enough money, they'll play whatever role you want."

"I'm not saying that he couldn't pull it off, I just don't think that's the case. The Boss is a total softy around Hunter. I wouldn't be surprised if he has the Boss wrapped around his finger, to be honest."

"No way! He's like a ken doll and the Boss is Gaston or something."

"So Hunter is his Belle?"

"Obviously. His lashes are longer than mine. And mine are fake."

"Belle totally wore the trousers. Without a doubt. Beast was gone, gone for her."

"Maybe the Boss is the gay version of pussy-whipped. Bussy whipped?"

"Gross. Don't say that word. Like ever."

"Sorry. But you get what I mean."

"I don't know. I mean, it would make sense. The Boss can probably throw Hunter around like a ragdoll and bend him in any way he wants."

"See… I'm not seeing it. The Boss has got to be, y'know, a very generous size and I've never seen Hunter even wince on his way out of the office."

"He could be masking it really well."

"Or he's taking it so much that it's like not even an issue."

"I don't think that's possible."

"Whatever is happening in there, I doubt that there's much talking going on."

"Yeah, how can Hunter talk when he's got a mouthful of the Boss's cock?"

"Or the other way around."

The group laugh collectively and move on to some other topic about meeting up for drinks after work, and Kyle tries to erase the conversation that he just overheard.

===

Hunter bottoms out in Ross's throat, and he feels his muscles uncoiling, breathing into the desk beneath his body. He focuses on the thick mass in his throat, the weight of Hunter on his tongue, the musk of Hunter's gorgeous, plump balls filling his nostrils, making him heady and all too eager to break his jaw in order to bathe them in the warmth of his mouth, too.

His husband starts fucking his throat then, hands on the side of his neck, eyes drawn to the lift of Ross's Adam's apple. He loves how much Hunter gets off on seeing it, how fascinated he is with the ease at which Ross accepts the entire thick, long, pulsing length of him, hands moving up to hold fast to his chin and gyrate his hips.

Ross can't breathe with how Hunter is pushing against him, balls covering his nose, cock settled in his throat. He trusts his husband, knows that he can let him decide when it's time to pull out, fully aware of Ross's breathing allowance.

"Good boy. That's it. Just relax. I've gotcha."

He listens, like the good husband that he is, letting Hunter take control, relinquishing himself to him, arms lax at his sides, legs hanging limply off the edge.

Hunter pulls his cock back then, lets Ross take in one huge breath then bottoms out again. "So good for me. Such a good boy. You love my cock filling your throat, don't'cha, sweetheat?"

Ross groans in response, hips twitching, tilting left and right, thrusting off the desk.

"Shush, shush. It's okay. It's okay. Just focus on my cock. Don't let anything else distract you."
His husband's deep, rumbling voice that makes an appearance whenever they settle into this dynamic lilts into his ears and Ross decompresses, swallowing around Hunter's cock, wishing he could suck a load out of him and keep his hard cock trapped in his throat.

"Just imagine it, Jay. Any one of your employees could come in here, see you flat out on your desk, taking my cock like a good bitch." Ross moans around him, cock twitching at the idea of someone seeing how exactly Hunter owns him, mind, body and soul. "It's obvious they think the opposite, but you know." Hunter rolls his hips, buries his cock deep and keeps pushing. "And I know." He gets a tight grip on Ross's chin and pounds his throat for thirty quick, glorious seconds. "That that's not the case, now, is it?"

Ross shakes his head, loving the wet, slick sound of Hunter's cock spearing the build up of saliva in his mouth as he settles himself all the way back inside. His hands are shaking with anticipation, wanting to hold Hunter's hips, still him so he can't leave his temporary home. Ross never wants him to leave, hates leaving him at home, even contemplated having him join him at his office every day.

He can't do that, though. He'll never get any work done.

It's bad enough when he picks up the phone and calls him just to hear his voice, to let him direct him through getting himself off. He listens to him moan into the phone, focuses on how that ignites the fire in his belly, loins burning with want. Hunter snaps at him if he takes it any further than he's instructed, and Ross melts, panting into the phone, promising to be good. And then Hunter praises him, tells him he's his good boy for listening, tells him to fuck his hand harder, pretend that he's sitting on Hunter's cock and he's reaching around to give him a fist to fuck into.

Ross loves his husband's dirty mouth, loves how he reduces him to pathetic whimpers and sobs until he's coming all over himself, wishing that he never had to put the phone down. Hunter doesn't join him in coming when they talk like that over the phone. He waits for Ross to get home, and then he's on him, stripping him bare, bending and twisting him in ways that so few have dared to even try. And then he's three fingers deep in Ross's ass, practically punching them into him, Ross's neck resting on Hunter's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as Hunter rams his fingers up his ass and bites the flesh behind his ear, arm secure around his throat, hard cock grinding over the curve of his ass.

As soon as Ross comes with a hoarse cry over the tabletop, Hunter slicks up his cock and drives in without preamble, fingers like clamps on the skin of his hips, groin pounding against his ass so hard he loses balance and has to brace on the table. Ross just takes it, cock already hard and leaking so soon after his orgasm, and Hunter makes sure that he's coming again long before he's pumping out a thick load in Ross's channel.

"Stay with me, Lip," Hunter demands, trapping his head between his powerful thighs, smoothing practiced hands down the line of his throat and catching on his clavicles. Ross's vision is spotting from the pressure, blood is rushing to his brain and cock in tandem, he's twitching in his pants and he feels faint. It's magical. "That's it, sweetheart. Relax. Let go. Let me take care of you."

He feels like a cloud drifting through the sky, nothing able to bother him. Here, he is safe, with Hunter. Here, he is free.

Here is the only place he ever wants to be.

===

Hunter releases his hold on Ross's head and extricates his cock. He lifts him so he's sitting up, letting his head lull back on his shoulder while he dives under Ross's shirt, feeling his skin, letting him feel the touch of his digits while he floats. Ross whimpers and Hunter shushes him, kissing the side of his neck and nipping, telling him it's okay, that's he's got him.

Now that Ross is nice and relaxed, Hunter focuses on getting them both off. But, most importantly, draining the disgusting amount of stress that still lingers in his husband's eyes. He hates seeing Ross so ruined, so close to shattering like fine china. If he thought for a second that Ross would agree to letting his partners take care of more of the work, he would be hounding him about it.

It won't work, though. Ross loves his job, his company, and short of Hunter giving him an ultimatum (something he could never do), there's no way to pull him away from it.

For now, all he can do is undo Ross's tie and blind him with it, guiding Ross off the desk, propping him up on all fours on the couch. He releases his belt from its loops, puts the strap through the latch, widening the circle enough to fit over Ross's head. His husband shuffles from knee to knee, sweating, anticipating.

Hunter drapes the strap of his belt down the slope of Ross's clothed back. He toes his shoes off, discards his pants and boxers, pulls Ross's Armani slacks down to rest on his calves. He licks his lips at the sight of the seal of Ross's anal plug, gives it a nudge. Ross moans, rocks his ass back, asking for something.

He spanks him, then, a quick sharp snap that makes Ross cry out.

"Everything is gonna work out, y'know? I wish you wouldn't do this to yourself," Hunter admonishes, slaps left, then right, then left with hard smacks, watching the flesh bloom a nice red. "Or maybe you like that I have to come by and fix you up, huh? Is that it? You get yourself all worked up so I'll put you back together again?"

Ross moans, clenches his fists. Hunter watches his hole squeeze around the plug and his cock throbs with need.

===

Kyle takes the next copy from the printer, sighing as he adds it to the stack to his right. He hears a smack and looks behind him, wondering where it came from. It happens again. And again, and again. It's faint, but Kyle's positive it's a smack. He blushes then, head turning to stare at the door to CEO Lipton's office, where he and his husband are.

Before he's assaulted with any imagery he really would rather not be subjected to, he shakes his head and starts humming to himself, drowning out the pelts he can hear in the distance.

===

Good.

Ross's ass beams a bright red, his body is shaking with need and he's on the verge of melting into the couch.

Next step then.

Hunter tugs until the plug slips out of his husband, shushing him with a hand along his back. He secures the strap of his belt, curls it around his palm, slots up in between Ross's legs and wedges his cock between Ross's asscheeks.

Ross whines, and Hunter pulls on the strap, effectively cutting off his protests. It's only a small amount of pressure. Just enough to let Ross know that there's something there. A presence controlling the air that he's able to take in.

Ross stills, waits for Hunter to lead him.

"Good boy," Hunter praises, inclines his hips back, positions the tip of his cock at Ross's fully-prepared entrance and sinks in to the root, tugging on the strap the tiniest bit with each inch cleared. Ross sputters and chokes, moaning as the sensations overwhelm him. "Shush, shush. It's okay. I've got'cha. I'm here, Lip. Let go of it all. Let it all just drain away. Do that for me, yeah?"

The clutch of Ross's body lessens, the tension in his shoulders falls away, his thighs uncoil, his back arches obscenely, head sagging with relief, allowing Hunter to pull it back with his hold, reaching forward to tangle his fingers in Ross's hair. He gets a firm grip on him, stabilising his lucid head so that he can loosen the belt when he needs to.

He starts fucking him then. Slow, precise, with enough room to tighten the bind around Ross's throat for a good five seconds. Each time he releases him, he chokes him an extra second more. He pulls Ross's head back, drops the strap to bear down on Ross's back until he's dipped obscenely at the small, allowing Hunter better access to pound in deep.

"That's my boy. You just focus on my cock stretching your little hole, filling you up real good, just the way you like it, and I'll do the rest," Hunter says, eyeing the effortless way Ross's body opens up for him. He's done this so many times and yet he never gets bored of it. The sensations, the power trip from having someone as strong and powerful and important as Ross submitting to him. The eagerness, the insatiable need that Ross presents him with whenever they have time, always wanting to please him, to do whatever he can to make him happy. It's like a drug to him. "You love my cock, don't'cha, Ross? Nothin' you want more than me fucking your sweet ass, day in, day out, is there?"

Ross moans, clenches around him and Hunter knows that he's not bullshitting either of them. He knows that Ross would practically live on the end of his cock if he didn't have other responsibilities.

Hunter grabs hold of the strap and pulls, burying himself balls deep and grinding his hips. He pushes, hard, listens to the catch in Ross's throat. He waits, let's the strap drop, pushes harder, gyrates, presses flush. Ross keens, and Hunter chokes him through it, pulls back to thrust one, two, three times, pounding their flesh together.

Their bodies meet like thunder claps, louder with each crack, Hunter's hips stilling to bump and grind, wrenching Ross's head back and grunting.

"Hold your breath for ten seconds, and then I want you to come," Hunter tells him, tightens the knot around Ross's throat and fucks him hard and fast, pace brutal and punishing to the skin of Ross's thighs, the slap, slap, slap roaring in Hunter's ears. He counts in his head, feels Ross's ass sealing like a vice around him, fluttering as he no-doubt empties into his jock, a choked off whine breaks through the grip of the strap on his throat. "So good for me. Good boy. You did so good," Hunter soothes, abandons the strap after loosening it. He lets Ross's head drop, hanging limp, Ross's chest meeting the couch, melting into the fabric.

Hunter drapes himself over Ross's prone form, grinds his cock at the root as he kisses Ross's shoulders, his neck, his sides, soothing him with sweet nothings. He pauses to deal with his own release, spearing Ross with harsh claps for a couple of beats and spilling inside him. Then he goes back to kissing him, licking him, running his fingers up and down his sides, ducking under to make sure that Ross did, in fact, come.

He did.

Perfect.

"I'm gonna take the blindfold off now." Hunter removes it, pulls it down so it's hanging limp around Ross's neck, which is branded with a bruise that resembles a race-track. Ross will bitch to himself about having to wear makeup on his neck but he'll get over it. The important thing is that he looks absolutely done in, and there isn't even the slightest presence of stress anywhere on his body, and that's what Hunter came here to accomplish.

"Listen to me, Lip. I want you to stay dirty. Don't change your jock. Don't change anything, okay? Whenever you feel like you need to snap, just think about your soiled jock, the bruises on your neck, the state of your clothes, and then remember that I did that to you. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

Ross turns his head, eyes glassy. He nods once, a small smile on his lips. Hunter leans over, kisses the side of his mouth and tells him he's proud of him.

===

"I'll see you when you get home, okay, boss man?" Hunter says, smiling at CEO Lipton and giving him, what looks to be, a very warm, loving embrace. He says something else, too, but it's not meant for anyone else to hear, what with the way that Hunter is leaning in close and whispering. Whatever he says, it seems to make the Boss sag onto him further, wrap his arms around him and sigh.

"I'll try not to be too late," CEO Lipton replies. Hunter kisses his cheek twice, then leans back to capture his lips in a long, slow, chaste kiss. "What the Hell are you looking at? Get back to work!"

"Jay," Hunter warns. "What did I say?" he adds, soft but firm. Kyle is starting to think his co-worker is right about Hunter wearing the trousers, because CEO Lipton's eyes go from hard and steely to soft and dopey and he just lets Hunter hold his face between his palms.

"I know. You're right. I'm sorry."

Hunter taps his cheeks, kisses him one last time, tells him he's cooking him something special for dinner and then starts his walk out of the office. Kyle hates that he even checks, but there is no wincing or noticeable limp or anything that might indicate… that.

It might be the light, but when CEO Lipton lifts his hand to wave, Kyle swears he sees some discolouration on his skin, and then he spots how rumpled his suit is, how slick his shirt is and how he's shifting from foot to foot and decides that it's none of his business, going back to work.

END

What would you want Hunter to do to the boss man? Let me know in the comments! :D