Special "kink" Drabble #9
by Merith
"And that, gentlemen, will conclude our meeting."
The four executives in the room snuck glances at one another, and then to their boss at the sudden rise and fall of his voice. His "that will be all." left them no choice but to gather their things and leave.
No sooner had the door closed on the last of them than Zechs shoved his chair back He glared downward, and snapped his fingers at knee level without saying a word. His wait wasn't long before the junior executive crawled out from underneath the desk. The man kneeled on the floor in submissive mode at Zechs's feet, defiance gleaming in his eyes.
At the sight of his wayward assistant, and the wicked smile he hid not quite so well, Zechs released a sigh, lost his frown and smoothed the chestnut hair away from the man's face.
"Trowa, what am I going to do with you?"
Though rhetorical, the shorter man answered immediately, "Punish me, of course." He couldn't quite stifle the smirk. At Zechs's frown, he added, "Sir."
His fingers pressed to the side of the younger man's face, Zechs seemed to contemplate the response. "You did leave me feeling... anticipatory. And you haven't learned the necessary lesson." Zechs leaned down while pulling Trowa up; mouths met and explored. The executive tasted himself lingering within.
Trowa's hands worked their way to the opened flap, finding Zechs still wet and slick from his mouth. The senior executive trapped both of them in his own, breaking the kiss. "Oh no you don't, you naughty boy." He pulled up, bringing Trowa level with him. "Biting me does not earn you a reward."
Settling himself on the tall blond's lap, Trowa nipped on the full lips before him. "But you like it when I bite."
Zechs made a slight agreeable sound, sliding his hands around the front of Trowa's slacks. "Not at the office."
"That's not what you said last Tuesday," the assistant said, gasping as a nail raked over his fly. "When you had me up on the copier."
Not wasting an opportunity, the power executive ground his palm a little more, breaking into a smug smile at the moan his actions elicited. "Then I'll amend my statement - no biting at meetings."
"Sure, whatever you say." Closing his teeth over lip again, Trowa tugged gently, earning himself a swat on the ass. He chuckled as he let go, and reached for the glasses perched on his lover's nose. "When you pulled me out of data entry, telling me you had a rising position and would I like to climb on board - I had no idea you meant this," he rocked his hips against the exposed flesh. "was the position, and climbing your lap, the ladder to the top." He hooked the spectacles around his ears, looking over the lens tops at the blond exec.
"You are in a naughty mood, you little cocksucker," Zechs chuckled, standing abruptly and setting the young man on top of the desk.
"I can truthfully attest that you do not have a little cock." Trowa grinned, raising his legs to wrap around the trim waist.
"Such a squealybottom boy," Zechs's laugh was muffled by Trowa's mouth. He couldn't stop the slow grind of pelvis to pelvis, pulling his lover closer. With a heavy sigh, he released the man's lips. "There is still the matter of your punishment." At Trowa's cocky smile, he pinched a cheek. "At the rate you're going, you'll never earn your reward."
"Then who do I have to fuck to get one?" Trowa's tone was light, almost casual, except to his boss. The current it carried nearly caused the man to shudder in memory of what it was capable. Fingers from one of Trowa's hands threaded themselves into the long, blond hair; the other clutched with digging nails into the back of his neck.
"Only one will be fucking you." He stepped back, letting his hands glide over Armani covered thighs. "Punishment first," Zechs murmured, when Trowa's legs tightened around him.
The gleam was back in sharp, green eyes and Trowa slid from the desk to stand inches from the senior exec. He hadn't let go of Zechs's hair, but instead, he twisted it about his hand. "What are you going to do to me?" he asked in a near breathless whisper.
Reaching up to take back his glasses, Zechs smiled, amused at his lover's excitement. "First," he said, folding and placing the eye-wear aside. "You will take off those pants. I want you stripped." Trowa nodded, swallowed and added another twisted round over his palm. "And then you will face the wall, hands flat against it and legs spread." At the half shudder, he added, "You will not touch anything - yourself or me." He laughed softly at the warring emotions displayed - painful eagerness, willing disappointment.
Trowa nodded, and with unexpected speed, he jerked the handful of hair encasing his hand. Zechs fell forward, crashing into the younger man. Trowa's hands held his lover's face, pulling it close. With a sedated violence, he went for Zechs's mouth, lips crushed beneath his assault. Forcing lips apart, his tongue teased, and hunted but his prey eluded him. A growl surfaced, knowing he had little time before Zechs recovered and pushed him away. His teeth caught and bit into the soft flesh just inside the blond's mouth. At the distorted cry, he let him go, sitting back to lick the blood from his lips.
"Now," Zechs uttered the word, his tone allowed no contradiction. He raised his fingers to wipe what blood had escaped.
His hand free, Trowa took his time pushing the silk-blend suit coat from his shoulders, pulling each sleeve off his arms. He straightened the coat, folded it lightly together to limit wrinkling and leaned forward. One arm snaked around Zech, tossing the coat on his vacated chair, the other moved to place a hand on hardened abdomen in the pretense of keeping himself steady.
Knowing the man would watch every move he made, Trowa took a step back, keeping his eyes on his lover and despite threats to the contrary, he knew the man loved the shows given. He let his hands trail down the front of his shirt, slowly undoing buttons as he went. His fingers slipped down to his belt-buckle, and pulled it loose.
His slacks undone, he drew his fingers up the open seam of his fly, hooking thumbs on the waistband and slid both around one to each side. Ensuring Zechs watched, he lowered his trousers, letting them fall as soon as they cleared his hips. He'd worn the evergreen colored thong, knowing his services would be necessary for the meeting, and hearing the catch in the exec's breath, he grinned. It had been a good choice.
He stepped out of his pants and turned deliberately, bending over to pick them up. His shirt-tail rose, exposing firm fair-skinned cheeks, and Trowa smirked at the sound of Zechs's harsh breathing. He straightened, smoothed the slacks, folded them neatly and laid them on top the desk. He turned, bringing his hands up to his shirt.
"Leave it," Zechs demanded. "Up against the wall - now!" His command was issued in an urgent-need-to-fuck-you tone. Trowa obeyed immediately.
Trowa's senses came alive as soon as his hands pressed flat to the wall. The smooth satin finish of the paint felt cool, exotic, reminding him of fresh sheets on his lover's bed. He could smell Zechs's scent, cloy and heady, clinging to his lips, his chin and nose. The whisper soft glide of a credenza drawer opened and closed, and his skin pimpled in anticipation.
Zechs's bare hand was on his ass, his fingers squeezed the flesh in hard grasps. The blond executive pushed up against his back, shoving his face into the wall. Air, hot against his temple, Zechs spoke, "You like biting me, bitch? Do you enjoy it?"
Mouth and nose squashed into the wall, Trowa pushed out, "Yes, sir. Very much, sir."
"And if I bite you?" Not waiting for a response, the exec closed his teeth over the exposed ear lobe. Trowa gasped as pressure was applied, not enough to break skin, but enough to leave marks. Continuing the assault on his ass, Zechs switched cheeks. "Like that, whore?"
His eyes wanted to slide closed; he forced them to stay opened. "Yes, sir. Very much, sir."
The paddle touched his thigh. First with one side, then the other. He couldn't suppress the shudder. Like a short cricket bat, it was made of pliable rubber, one side textured soft, in velvet fabric, the other stinging, with the tiniest of needle points. He never knew which side was up until the swats landed.
Without warning, the first blow came while Zechs still knead his ass. High on the back of one thigh, the needles bit into his skin; pain instant and sharp. Another blow followed the first in the same spot; velvet soft and soothing.
Zechs stepped back and the sudden release of pressure sent the blood rushing to his chest, legs, and groin. Trowa almost sighed with the half-giddy feel and the stinging bite slapped his right cheek. He jumped slightly, his fingers clawing the paint.
Even as another blow was delivered, Trowa stated, "I spoke to Mister Winner today." The next swat faltered, its power lacked conviction.
"Quatre? What did the chairman want?" Zechs was still breathing easy, his blows landed with a practiced rhythm.
Trowa grunted; needle side across both cheeks, followed by two soft above and below the sting site. "He offered me a new position."
The paddle landed on the carpet and Zechs's body was crushed to his. "What?"
Hiding his smile, Trowa turned his face away. His bottom highly sensitized, the fabric from Zechs's suit was sending pleasing tingles straight to his cock. "A new job. I can start next week."
Lips on his temple, hands running soothing caresses down his back, Zechs asked softly, "and what'd you tell him?"
It was time. Trowa did a slow turn, pressing himself into his lover's embrace. "I informed him," he whispered, lips gentle soft against Zechs's mouth. "That my position was firmly under you for the duration."
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