Archive of Our Own

Giyuu's pov:
I've been working at this company for about six months now. At first, it was just another job, nothing too special. But then there was the manager. Shinazugawa had taken over about a year before I started, and it didn't take long to notice how, well, let's just say he had a presence.

The guy was young, probably only a few years older than me, but he had this authority about him that made everyone in the office straighten up when he walked by. Not to mention, he was ridiculously good-looking. Like, hot as hell.

I've always had a thing for muscular men, and damn, did Shinazugawa fit that type. His shoulders were broad, and you could tell he spent a lot of time in the gym, his arms were always showing off the kind of definition that had me glancing more than once when he wasn't looking.

He liked to wear his shirt just a little unbuttoned, like he didn't care to hide the muscles that were clearly earned. His hair was this stark white, kind of wild but in a cool way, and somehow it made him look even younger, not older. It was impossible not to notice him, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't catch myself daydreaming about him more than I should.

That particular day, I was sitting at my desk, sorting through Shinazugawa's appointments for the day. I was making sure everything was in order when suddenly, his voice cut through the air.

"Tomioka!" he called from his office. I froze for a second, my heart skipping a beat. It wasn't unusual for him to ask for me, but his voice always had this sharp, commanding tone that made you pay attention.

I quickly stood up and walked over to his office. As I knocked lightly on the door, I felt my palms getting a little clammy, like my nerves were starting to get the best of me. When he called me in, his eyes briefly flicked up from the papers on his desk, meeting mine with that sharp, intense gaze. For a moment, it almost felt like he was sizing me up, and I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination running wild, or if he genuinely noticed the way I sometimes caught myself staring.

"Come in," he said, his voice low and steady. I stepped inside, trying not to let my nerves show. The office had this sleek, modern feel, but there was always an air of tension in the room when he was around. He was always so serious, focused, sometimes I wondered if he ever let his guard down. But today, his posture seemed a little more relaxed than usual, his sleeves rolled up to show off those strong forearms.

"Got a second?" he asked, gesturing to the chair across from him. I nodded and took a seat, mentally preparing for whatever work-related thing he was about to throw at me. But when he leaned forward slightly, the way his biceps flexed under his shirt, I couldn't help but lose focus for a second.

"Yeah, of course," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

He gave me a small, knowing smirk, like he could tell something was off. "You look a little distracted. Everything alright?"

I snapped my attention back to him, my heart racing for reasons I couldn't quite explain. "Just caught up in the schedule," I muttered, hoping it sounded more convincing than it felt.

Shinazugawa raised an eyebrow, still looking at me with that intense stare. "Mm-hmm. Well, I wanted to go over a couple of things with you. You've been doing a good job so far, but I noticed a few things that could be improved." His tone was professional, but there was something in the way he said it, almost like a challenge.

I nodded, my mind shifting back into work mode. "I'm all ears."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I've seen you working hard, Tomioka. But don't be afraid to speak up more in meetings. You've got good ideas, but sometimes you hold back."

I couldn't help but feel a little flattered, even if he was just giving constructive criticism. "I'll try to do that more," I said, meeting his gaze. And for a moment, the professional atmosphere in the room felt less stiff, more personal. Maybe it was just me reading into things, but I felt like there was something else behind his words, something more than just work.

He gave a slight nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as if considering something. "Good. Just don't let it slip, alright?" He paused, then added with a half-smirk, "I won't always be here to catch you."

I chuckled nervously, "Understood."

For a moment, the conversation hung in the air. It was as if we were both aware of the strange tension, but neither of us knew what to do with it. Finally, Shinazugawa stood up, the movement making his muscles flex under his shirt once again. It was impossible not to notice. "Alright, back to it," he said, brushing off the moment with a casual tone. "You're dismissed."

I stood up, relieved the conversation was over, but as I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of his gaze following me. My heart skipped again, but I quickly pushed the thought aside, convincing myself it was all in my head.

As I returned to my desk, my mind was still buzzing from the conversation with Shinazugawa. I tried to focus on the pile of papers in front of me, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. I couldn't help it. His words, his smirk, the way his muscles flexed when he moved, it was all still replaying in my mind, over and over.

I stared at the stack of reports in front of me, but they blurred into the background. Instead, I found myself mentally replaying the way he leaned back in his chair, his white hair falling just right, the muscles of his forearms bulging slightly as he crossed his arms.

God, he looked good, damn good. There was something about the way he carried himself that made everything seem effortless, like he was in complete control, and yet, he wasn't intimidating. At least, not in the way some people were. No, Shinazugawa had this presence about him that drew you in, made you want to pay attention.

I sighed quietly, running a hand through my hair as I tried to snap myself out of it. This was ridiculous. I had work to do. But no matter how hard I tried to focus, I couldn't shake the image of him from my mind.

The way his shirt clung to his chest as he moved, how he always seemed so effortlessly confident, it wasn't just his appearance that got me, though. It was the way he made everything look so easy. The way his voice had a way of commanding attention without even trying. And his smile, that half-smirk he gave me, the one that had me questioning whether he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

Shinazugawa had a way of making everything feel personal, even when it wasn't. And I could still feel the weight of his gaze from earlier. The way his eyes had locked onto mine, like he saw right through me. I wondered if he could tell I was losing it on the inside. If he knew how much I was struggling not to think about him while I was sitting there, just trying to do my job.

It wasn't just the physical attraction. No, it was more than that. It was the way he carried himself, the way he handled everything with such confidence, like he was the one in control. The way he made even the smallest movements seem like they were calculated, purposeful. Hell, even the way he wore that shirt slightly unbuttoned, just enough to show off his muscles without making it too obvious, was perfect.

My mind wandered back to the moment earlier when he'd been sitting across from me. I remembered how close I had been to him, how his scent lingered in the air, a mix of something fresh and clean. He hadn't even tried to hide it. He knew exactly how to use his body, how to use his presence to keep me on edge without even saying a word.

I let my thoughts drift, and for a second, I imagined what it might be like to actually see him outside the office. Not just as my manager, but, well, maybe as something more than just collegues.

Somewhere outside this damn building where I didn't have to act like I wasn't constantly aware of how hot he was. Somewhere I could let myself look at him for more than just a few seconds before getting caught.

God, his muscles. The way his shirt would stretch across his chest when he moved. It was impossible not to notice. And the thought of him being that perfect, it made me lose track of time for a second.

I snapped back to reality as my phone buzzed on the desk. A notification. It was from the schedule system, reminding me about a meeting I had later in the day. I groaned, rubbing my temples. Work. Focus on work.

But as I tried to get back into the flow of things, the images of Shinazugawa lingered. His smile. His confident stance. And God, those muscles. The way he looked at me earlier, it was as if he knew exactly what was running through my mind. The thought made me blush slightly, but I tried to shake it off, trying to convince myself it was just my imagination.

"Get it together, Giyuu," I muttered under my breath.

But even as I told myself that, I couldn't deny it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about how hot he looked. And that was the problem; he knew it.

After a long day at the office, I finally got home, exhausted but unable to shake the thoughts that had been circling my mind all day. I tossed my bag on the couch and slumped down, wishing I could just relax for a moment without thinking about the one person who had been dominating my brain all day.

Shinazugawa. His voice. His presence. Those damn muscles that seemed to move so effortlessly under his clothes.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing deeply. There was no point in trying to distract myself with work tonight. Instead, I grabbed the remote and flicked on my TV. Maybe some anime would take my mind off of it.

I scrolled through the streaming service, searching for something to watch. And then I spotted it; a new BL anime. I had watched a few episodes of a different series a while back, and tonight felt like the kind of night where I just needed to dive into something completely different.

With a resigned sigh, I hit play and let myself sink into the couch, trying not to think about Shinazugawa for once.

But of course, that didn't work. Not even a little.

As the episode started, I couldn't help but get caught up in the story. It was the classic setup; a shy, reserved guy who had trouble expressing his feelings, and the confident, outgoing guy who seemed to know exactly what he wanted. Watching the characters interact, the way they teased each other, the way they slowly began to open up, it was easy to get lost in it.

I couldn't help but imagine what it might be like if it were me and Shinazugawa in the story.

The idea of him being the one to tease me, to push me to open up more. God, that was a fantasy I hadn't realized I wanted until right then. What if he was the one pulling me close, holding me with that firm, confident grip, making me feel like I was the only person in the room? What if he smiled at me like he did earlier today, that smirk that made my heart race, and then, what if he leaned in, just a little too close?

The scene on screen shifted to a tender moment between the characters. The shy guy blushed as the confident one reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of his face before cupping his cheek gently. I felt my heart rate pick up.

Was that how it would feel? To have someone like Shinazugawa be that close? Would he pull me into a kiss like that, slow and deliberate, or would it be something more forceful, more passionate, as if he couldn't hold back any longer?

I leaned back, biting my lip, letting my mind run wild with the idea.

I imagined Shinazugawa standing there, watching me, his expression unreadable but his eyes darkening just a little bit as he leaned closer. Would he touch my face like that, his fingers gentle on my skin but with the strength of someone who knew exactly what he was doing? The thought made me tense up.

And the way he moved it was almost like he'd been made for moments like that. The way his muscles flexed when he made even the smallest movement. The way his body seemed to command the room, making everyone focus on him without him needing to say a word. Could he be like that with me? Would he pull me in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered something just for me?

The characters in the anime were kissing now, and for a moment, I couldn't even focus on them. My mind was filled with thoughts of Shinazugawa's lips on mine. Would it be gentle? Or would it be full of the kind of intensity that made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat?

I closed my eyes, imagining it more vividly now, as if I could actually feel the heat of his body, the way his hands would press against me, just enough to make me feel like I couldn't escape even if I wanted to.

"God," I muttered under my breath, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. I didn't even realize I'd been holding my breath, but now I exhaled shakily, trying to ground myself.

The anime characters were talking now, soft, intimate words between them that made me feel even more embarrassed, as if I was witnessing something I shouldn't. But in my mind, it wasn't the anime anymore, it was me and Shinazugawa.

What would it be like if he actually wanted me like that? What would it feel like to be in his arms, to have him look at me the way he looked at the other guys in the office, so focused, so determined, but somehow with this strange, almost possessive energy. Was I imagining it, or had there been something in his gaze earlier?

I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, my thoughts running too fast, my mind unable to keep up with all the emotions I was suddenly overwhelmed by. The fantasy was so real in my head that it almost felt like I could reach out and touch him, feel his body against mine.

But just as quickly as the thought came, I forced myself to push it down. This was insane. He was my boss, for one, and this kind of thing was way out of line. I couldn't get lost in these thoughts. I had to focus.

Still, as the anime played on, I found my thoughts drifting back to Shinazugawa; his smile, his confidence, his touch. Maybe one day, just maybe, I'd know what it felt like to be that close to him.

The anime ended, but I barely noticed. The credits rolled as I sat there on the couch, my mind far from the screen. It wasn't that the show didn't have my attention, it did, but all I could think about was Shinazugawa. The way his eyes seemed to linger on me earlier. How his presence made everything else fade into the background.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair, frustrated with myself. "Get it together, Giyuu," I muttered, standing up and stretching. It was late, and I needed to shower. The warm water might clear my mind, or at least help me forget about him.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, the hot water quickly filling the space with steam. I undressed, the cool air hitting my skin before stepping into the warmth. I let the water wash over me, trying to force myself to focus on something, anything, that wasn't Shinazugawa.

But it was hard. My thoughts kept drifting, no matter how hard I tried to shake them. The feeling of his presence, the way his voice had carried through the office, even the way his shirt had hugged his frame, showing off his muscles, everything about him was so present, so damn there, and I couldn't push it out of my mind.

I leaned against the shower wall, letting the water cascade down my back, my mind still replaying the moments from earlier. What would it be like to feel his hands on me? His touch, so strong yet gentle, pulling me close. I could almost imagine the way it would feel, his hands steady, guiding me, making everything feel so safe and intense at the same time. Would he be as confident in private as he was in the office?

As the water flowed over me, I could feel my heartbeat quicken. I tried to ignore it, but the images kept coming; Shinazugawa standing in front of me, his eyes locked with mine, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in, so close I could feel his breath against my skin.

Would he kiss me softly at first, or would he be more insistent, as if he couldn't hold back anymore? My body heated at the thought, and I swallowed hard, closing my eyes, trying to calm the storm inside me.

But the more I tried to shake it, the more vivid the image became. I imagined myself standing there with him, his strong arms pulling me close, his lips brushing against mine, light at first, a mere tease. Then, deeper, as if he couldn't help but pull me in, like I was the only person that mattered.

It was a dangerous thought, one that I knew I shouldn't indulge. But for a moment, I let myself imagine it. What if he did look at me like that, with something more than just the manager-employee dynamic between us? What if there was something more, something real?

I exhaled deeply, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. I wrapped it around my waist, the coolness of the air hitting my damp skin. The thoughts didn't fade, but I tried to push them down, knowing I needed sleep. I couldn't let this go on. I had to sleep, clear my head, and maybe tomorrow it would all be easier to forget.

But as I crawled into bed, I couldn't stop the images from flooding my mind again.

This time, the dream started with the sound of a door opening. I was standing in a room, alone, when Shinazugawa walked in. His presence was overwhelming, like a force I couldn't escape. He didn't say anything at first, just stared at me, those sharp eyes focused on me like I was the only thing that mattered. I felt a flutter of anxiety in my chest, unsure of what to do or say, but then he moved, slowly and deliberately, crossing the room with ease.

I felt my breath catch in my throat as he came closer, his hand reaching out to touch my face, gentle but firm. His fingers brushed against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Giyuu," he whispered my name, and it sent a rush of heat through my body.

The dream played out like that, slow and intense. I couldn't tell where the lines between dream and reality blurred. His lips were on mine, soft at first, but then with more pressure, more demand. He kissed me like he wanted something, something only I could give him. His body pressed against mine, and I could feel the strength in his frame, the heat from his skin. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

The feeling of his hands on me, his breath against my ear, was too real. I shifted in bed, my body reacting to the dream, even as I tried to pull away from it. But the images didn't stop. The fantasy was too vivid now, and I couldn't shake it.

I woke up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. The dream felt so real, so close. I could still feel the echo of his touch, the warmth of his presence.

But as I lay there in the dark, trying to steady my breath, I realized just how much of an impact Shinazugawa had on me. It wasn't just about attraction anymore, it was something deeper. Something I wasn't sure I was ready to understand.

It had been a few weeks since that first dream, the one where Shinazugawa, Sanemi, as I'd started to think of him in my head, was there, so real, so vivid. And ever since then, the dreams hadn't stopped.

Each night, it was the same: his smirk, his intense gaze, the feel of his body so close to mine, making my heart race. Every morning, I'd wake up a little more disoriented, my thoughts tangled in fantasies I knew I shouldn't have.

But, as much as I tried to push them down, the dreams just kept coming. And to make it worse, every time I saw him at work, my mind would immediately wander back to the images that haunted me during the night. The worst part? It seemed like he was somehow always there. Present, watching me, maybe even aware of the effect he had on me. And I couldn't tell if I was just imagining things, or if he was somehow playing into it—teasing me.

Today was no different. I was at my desk, typing up a few emails and sorting through some reports when I heard the familiar sound of his boots against the floor. The moment he passed by my cubicle, I could feel it—his presence. I didn't even need to look up, but I did anyway. And there he was, walking past with that usual confidence of his. His white hair was slightly tousled, his shirt fitting just snug enough to remind me that, despite being my boss, he was hot as hell.

I forced myself to look back at my screen, but that didn't stop my thoughts from drifting. His presence lingered in the air, and I couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes had lingered on me, just for a second, before he continued down the hall.

"Tomioka."

His voice, deep and smooth, cut through the space like a command, and I immediately looked up. There he was, just standing at the entrance to my cubicle, arms crossed and leaning casually against the frame. The sight of him, that sharp look in his eyes, made my heart skip a beat.

"Yeah?," I answered, trying to sound composed, even though I could feel the flush creeping up my neck.

"I need you to bring these reports to my office," he said, holding out a folder with a few papers sticking out. His fingers brushed against mine for just a second when I took the folder from him, and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make my mind race.

I nodded quickly, probably a little too eager. "Sure thing."

As I stood up, I tried to focus on the task at hand, but I couldn't ignore the feeling of his eyes on me. He was still standing there, watching me. There was a small, almost teasing grin on his lips, like he was enjoying the effect he had on me. Was it my imagination, or did he actually know how flustered he made me?

I walked past him, heading toward his office, and as I did, I couldn't resist a glance in his direction. He was leaning back against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. His shirt, as usual, was unbuttoned just a little too far down, showing off the muscles of his chest and the strong line of his neck. I could practically feel the heat of his body radiating from where he stood.

"Hey, Tomioka," he called out, just before I reached the door.

I stopped, turning back to face him, a small knot of anxiety forming in my stomach. He was looking at me now, his expression unreadable. Then, just as I thought he might say something important, something work-related, he flashed me a grin, that same sly, almost teasing look he sometimes wore.

"You know, you've been working pretty hard lately. Don't forget to take care of your pretty face and yourself," he said, his tone casual, but with an edge of something I couldn't quite place.

For a moment, I thought my brain was short-circuiting. Take care of my pretty face and myself? Was that supposed to be some kind of advice or compliment, or was he just being playful?

I swallowed, trying to keep my composure. "I'm fine," I muttered, barely able to meet his eyes. His gaze was intense, like he could see right through me. "Thanks, though."

He didn't say anything more, but that smirk never left his face. He just stood there, watching me as I walked into his office. I couldn't help but feel like there was something behind that smile. Something more than just casual workplace advice.

As I handed him the folder, he took it from me with a slow, deliberate movement, his fingers brushing mine again. It was just as brief as the first time, but this time, it felt more intentional. My breath caught in my throat, and I immediately tried to look anywhere but at him, praying he didn't notice how nervous I suddenly felt.

"Good job, Tomioka," he said, his voice a little lower this time, his eyes lingering on me a bit longer than necessary. "Keep it up."

I nodded quickly, feeling the heat rise in my face again. "Thanks." I practically bolted out of his office, my heart hammering in my chest.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Every time he walked by, I caught myself glancing over at him, my heart skipping every time our eyes met. The way he moved, so effortlessly confident, like he knew the effect he had on everyone around him, it was impossible to ignore. And every time I thought I could get a grip on myself, his little comments and the way he looked at me kept throwing me off.

Was it flirting? Probably not. But there was definitely something in the way he smiled, something in the way he always seemed to be a little more aware of me than anyone else in the office. The more I thought about it, the more my mind wandered back to those dreams, the way he held me in them, how his hands felt on my skin, how his lips were always just inches away from mine.

I had to stop myself from daydreaming. But the truth was, every little thing he did seemed to fuel it more. The teasing grins, the casual comments, the way he'd sometimes brush up against me just a little too closely, it was driving me crazy.

And part of me couldn't help but hope, maybe it wasn't all in my head.

I was deep in thought when I heard his voice again, sharp, but this time it had a teasing edge to it.

"Tomioka - san."

I looked up, startled. There he was, standing in the doorway of my cubicle, arms crossed, leaning against the frame just like he always did. But today, there was a glint in his eye, something I hadn't seen before. It was the same sharp, intense look, but with something more playful hidden underneath.

"Yeah?," I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but I could feel the nervous flutter in my chest.

"Got a minute?," he asked casually, as if it wasn't a big deal. Of course, I was about to say I had a ton of work to do, but, when he asked like that, how could I say no?

"Sure," I replied, getting up and grabbing a few papers before heading to his office. I didn't want to make it obvious how much his presence affected me, but I couldn't help it. Every step felt like it was pulling me closer to whatever this thing was between us.

I followed him into his office, trying to shake off the feeling of his eyes on me. He sat at his desk, but there was an almost lazy vibe to him today. Like he wasn't as focused on the usual work.

His shirt, as always, was unbuttoned just a little too far down, revealing a glimpse of his muscular chest. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I tried to ignore it, trying to focus on why he'd called me in.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him, his voice smooth and low. I sat down, not knowing what to expect next.

"Everything going alright with the reports?," he asked, his tone light, but his eyes were studying me carefully.

"Yeah, no issues," I replied, trying to sound casual, but it was getting harder to keep my composure around him. My thoughts kept drifting to places they shouldn't.

Sanemi gave a small nod, like he was processing my response, but then, out of nowhere, he dropped it.

"You know," he started, his voice softer than usual, "You're looking pretty good today."

I blinked, not sure I heard him right. "What?"

He smirked, leaning back in his chair as if he were enjoying every second of this. "You heard me," he said, his voice almost a purr now, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're a pretty boy, Tomioka."

My heart froze for a moment, then started pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. Pretty boy? Did he just, did he actually say that?

I didn't know how to react. Was he joking? Was this one of his playful little teases? But there was something in the way he said it, something in his gaze, that made me second-guess everything I thought I knew about our interactions.

"Pretty boy, huh?," I managed to say, my voice a little shaky. I could feel my face getting warm, my heart still racing. Was this a compliment? A joke? Or something else entirely?

Sanemi leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Yeah," he said slowly, as if savoring the moment, "I mean, you're all quiet and serious, but there's something about you, Tomioka. Kind of like a pretty boy who's got that whole 'don't mess with me' vibe."

I couldn't help but chuckle, even though I was still a little flustered. "I'm not a pretty boy," I muttered, trying to deflect the attention.

But Sanemi didn't let it go. He gave me a look a knowing, almost predatory look, and then shrugged nonchalantly. "You could be," he said, his tone light, but with that same sharp edge. "You've got the look for it. And it's not a bad thing, if that's what you're worried about."

I stared at him for a second, caught off guard by his words. "I'm not worried," I said quickly, trying to regain some control. "I just-"

"Relax, Tomioka," he interrupted with a soft laugh. "It's just a compliment. You're a good-looking guy. Don't let it go to your head."

I was left standing there, feeling a mix of confusion and something else, something that made my chest tighten. Was that really a compliment? I wasn't sure anymore. It felt too personal, too real.

And yet, there was that teasing edge to his words, the way his gaze lingered on me for just a moment too long, like he was waiting for me to crack. Waiting for me to show just how much his words affected me.

"Thanks," I muttered, still trying to play it cool, though I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. I forced myself to stand up and turn toward the door, my mind spinning. "I'll get back to work now."

"Take it easy, pretty boy," he called out just as I reached the door.

I froze, my hand on the doorknob. Pretty boy again? Was he really playing with me like this? But before I could turn around, I heard the sound of him moving behind me.

I had to get out of there before I did something stupid. So I quickly opened the door and left, my heart still racing. But even as I walked back to my desk, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Sanemi's teasing wasn't just that. Maybe there was something else lurking beneath the surface.

The day dragged on after that, my mind still buzzing with the lingering thoughts of Sanemi's words. Pretty boy. I couldn't shake the way he said it, the tone of his voice. Was it teasing? Was he just messing with me? Or was there something else there? Every time I tried to get back into work, my thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Eventually, the office began to quiet down. One by one, my colleagues started leaving for the day, the soft sound of chairs scraping against the floor and the occasional murmur of goodbyes filling the air. It was almost time for me to head out too, but I was still trying to get my head back in the game.

I was running through a few last-minute emails when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was.

"Oi, Tomioka," Rengoku's voice boomed, bright and cheerful as always. "I'm heading out, but I just wanted to say-," he stopped for a second, peering over my shoulder at the screen with a grin that I couldn't help but roll my eyes at. "make sure you get some rest tonight! Don't work yourself into the ground, okay?"

I chuckled softly, looking up at him. "I'll try," I replied, trying to keep it light. Rengoku's energy was infectious, and it was always nice having him around in the office. He was one of the few people who could get me to smile, even on the worst days.

Rengoku gave me a thumbs-up and patted me on the shoulder. "Good! That's the spirit! Alright, I'm off. See you tomorrow, Tomioka!"

"See you," I called after him, watching as he walked off toward the door with his usual boisterous energy. As he left, I found myself letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

The office was beginning to empty out. I glanced around, and then my eyes landed on the last person still at her desk.

Shinobu.

She was sitting there, the soft click of her keyboard the only sound left, her eyes scanning through something on her screen with a quiet intensity. I couldn't tell if she was finishing up some work or just waiting for the day to end, but I noticed she hadn't made any moves to leave yet.

I stood up, ready to pack up my things when I heard her soft, almost playful voice.

"Tomioka-san, you're leaving soon, right?," she asked, looking over her shoulder at me with that signature smirk of hers.

"Yeah," I nodded, gathering my papers. "Just about done."

She smiled, the edges of her lips curving in that way she always did when she was being mischievous. "Well, don't forget to take care of yourself. You're not going to spend another night staring at your computer, are you?"

I blinked, a little caught off guard. "Uh, no. I'm actually going to try to take it easy tonight."

Shinobu raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Good. You've been working too hard lately. You deserve some rest, Tomioka." She stood up, grabbing her bag and walking over to me. "Take a deep breath, okay? Relax for once."

I offered a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Shinobu. I'll try."

She gave me a quick nod and a knowing look. "You'd better." Then, she reached out, lightly tapping me on the shoulder as if to emphasize her point. "See you tomorrow. Don't let Shinazugawa bother you too much."

I couldn't help but blink, caught a little off-guard by her comment. "Shinazugawa?," I asked, voice slightly higher than usual, feeling a flush creep up my neck.

"Oh, please," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "You think I don't notice? The way he's been looking at you lately. Don't act like you haven't noticed." She gave me a wink and headed for the door. "Just make sure you don't get too distracted by him, alright?"

I was left standing there, speechless for a moment, as Shinobu walked away. What the hell did that mean? She was so casual about it, but now I had no idea what to think. Was everyone in the office noticing? Did Rengoku know? Did Sanemi himself know?

Before I could process it all, I heard the final set of footsteps coming my way.

"Well, well, Tomioka," Rengoku's cheerful voice floated back in, and I turned to see him standing at the door with Shinobu. "We're heading out, but I just wanted to say goodbye again. Have a great night, and remember to rest up! You've got a long day ahead tomorrow."

I nodded, my thoughts still tangled. "Thanks, Rengoku. You too."

Shinobu, still with that teasing glint in her eyes, added, "Try not to burn yourself out, alright? I'll see you tomorrow, Tomioka."

With that, they both waved and disappeared out the door. I was left alone in the office, the silence settling in around me. But as the last of the light from the hallway flickered off and the door clicked shut, I couldn't help but feel a strange, fluttering feeling in my chest.

Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time to stop working myself into the ground and start paying attention to what was going on around me. The way Sanemi had been looking at me, the little teasing comments, the way he called me "pretty boy." Was it just teasing? Or was there something more?

I didn't know. But as I gathered my things and walked toward the exit, my mind was still racing. And for once, it wasn't about work. It was about him.

I was already at the door when Sanemi called me into his office again.

"Tomioka."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried that same sharp edge that always made me stop without thinking. I paused, my hand still wrapped around the strap of my bag, and let out a quiet breath before turning back to get to his office.

"Yes?," I asked, trying to sound calm, like my heart hadn't just jumped at the sound of his voice.

He was standing near his desk, jacket off now, sleeves rolled up just enough to be distracting. His arms were crossed, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were fixed on me in that way that made me feel like he was seeing far more than I wanted him to.

"You always leave like you're running from something," he said casually. "I'm just going home," I replied. "The day's over."

He hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Funny. You looked pretty flustered for someone who's just heading out."

I frowned slightly. "You called me back for that?"

"Maybe." His lips curved into that familiar teasing grin. "Or maybe I wanted to see if you'd turn around when I asked."

I hesitated, then stepped back inside, letting the door shut behind me. The office felt quieter now, more intimate with the rest of the building nearly empty. I stood there awkwardly for a moment before speaking again.

"If there's nothing work-related-"

"Relax," he interrupted, waving a hand. "No reports. No deadlines. I won't make you sit through a meeting."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Then what?"

He walked closer, not rushing, just closing the distance little by little until I was painfully aware of how close he was standing. "You've been thinking about what I said earlier."

I stiffened. "About what?"

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't play dumb, pretty boy." There it was again. My face warmed instantly. "You really enjoy saying that."

"Yeah," he said without hesitation. "I do." I looked away, focusing on a random spot on the wall. "You shouldn't say things like that at work."

"And yet," he replied, leaning in just enough that I could feel his presence, "you haven't told me to stop." My mouth opened, but no words came out.

He chuckled softly. "That's what I thought."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence felt heavy, charged, like it was waiting for one of us to break it. My thoughts were racing, my pulse loud in my ears.

"Sanemi," I started quietly, unsure of what I was even going to say.

He reached out then, fingers catching the edge of my collar and tugging me forward just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make the intention clear.

"You're trouble," he murmured. "You know that?" I swallowed. "You're the one doing this."

His grin softened, just a little. "Yeah. I am."

Before I could overthink it, before my nerves could catch up with me, he leaned in and kissed me. It was brief but firm, confident in a way that left no room for doubt. My breath caught, my thoughts completely scattering as the reality of it sank in.

When he pulled back, he was still close, eyes searching my face.

"See?," he said quietly. "That's why I called you back."

Sanemi kissed me again. This time it felt rough and wet, and my bag fell to the floor. Neither of us cared. "Tomioka," he whispered my name.

I barely had time to look up before Sanemi's hands were on me, shoving me backward until the edge of the desk dug into my thighs.

My breath hitched as Sanemi hoisted me up effortlessly, my ass hitting the the wooden desk with a thud. Papers scattered, a pen rolling off the edge and clattering to the floor, forgotten.

Sanemi stepped between my legs, crowding me with the heat of his body, his scent, leather and something darker, sharper, filling my lungs before our mouths crashed together.

Sanemi's teeth grazed my bottom lip, biting down just hard enough to draw a gasp, not pain, but the sharp promise of it, the kind that coiled heat low in my gut.

My fingers tangled in Sanemi's hair, pulling him closer as if I could fuse our bodies together through sheer desperation. The desk groaned under our combined weight, the wood creaking as I arched into him, my thighs tightening around Sanemi's hips like a vice.

Sanemi forcefully pulled me up before kissing me roughly. Our heated exchange involves biting, gripping, and the desk protesting under our combined weight as I clinged to him.

Then Sanemi's grip gentled, calloused palms sliding up to cradle my face as if I was something precious, not just some employee he'd decided to ruin after hours.

His thumbs traced the hollows of my cheekbones, slow and deliberate, before threading into the dark strands of hair tangled behind my ears. A sharp tug, not enough to hurt, just enough to make my breath hitch and Sanemi watched, transfixed, as the ribbon holding my hair up snapped loose. Black silk cascaded down my shoulders, framing my face in a way that made Sanemi's pulse stutter.

"You look fucking hot," Sanemi muttered, voice rough, but his fingers kept combing through the strands. His gaze flicked down, mapping the damp sheen of my lips, the flush creeping down my neck, the way my hands still clutched at Sanemi's shirt like he might vanish.

"Pretty boy," he added, almost like an afterthought, but the words came out low and thick, curling around them like smoke. "Bet you get away with everything, don't you? With that face?"

My pulse throbbed in my throat, thick and uneven beneath Sanemi's fingertips. The words "pretty boy" should've rankled, should've made me bristle the way compliments always did, like they were traps disguised as kindness. But the way Sanemi said it, voice scraped raw with something between accusation and hunger, sent heat pooling low in my belly.

My fingers tightened in Sanemi's shirt, knuckles brushing against the hard planes of his abdomen through the fabric. "Not with you," I breathed, and the honesty of it startled us both.

Sanemi’s lips curled into a smirk against my mouth, his breath hot as he pulled back just enough to murmur, "Fuck, you kiss like you were made for it." The praise landed like a live wire against my skin, igniting a shiver that raced down my spine.

My grip on Sanemi’s shirt twisted tighter, fabric crumpling in my fists as a pathetic little noise escaped my throat, half whimper, half plea, before I could bite it back.

"Listen to that," Sanemi growled, dragging his thumb over my swollen lower lip. "You like hearing how good you are for me?" The words were a low, dirty purr, and my hips jerked involuntarily, my thighs trembling where they bracketed Sanemi’s waist.

The desk creaked in protest, but neither of us cared, not when Sanemi was watching me with that devastating focus, like every hitch of my breath was a prize.

Sanemi’s hands dragged down my chest, fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt with deliberate slowness. The fabric rode up inch by torturous inch, exposing the taut planes of my abdomen, the way my skin pebbled under Sanemi’s trailing touch.

When cool air hit my nipples, already stiffened from anticipation, mybreath stuttered, just before Sanemi’s thumbs brushed over them, rough and teasing, rolling the sensitive buds between his fingertips.

A sharp gasp tore from my throat, my hips jerking forward as heat surged straight to my cock, the sudden stiffening of it pressing obscenely against the confines of my slacks.

My cock twitched against my thigh, the fabric of my slacks tightening uncomfortably as Sanemi's lips dragged wetly up the column of my throat.

Every scrape of teeth, every hot puff of breath against my skin sent another jolt of arousal straight to my already aching dick, until I could feel the dampness of precome seeping through the material.

My hips lifted instinctively, chasing friction, but Sanemi held me down with a firm grip on my hips, chuckling darkly against my pulse point as I let out a frustrated whine.

"You're so fucking perfect like this," Sanemi growled against my jaw, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise as he ground our bodies together, just once, enough to make my head tip back with a choked moan.

"Look at you, falling apart just from my hands on you." The praise dripped like honey, thick and syrupy, and I swallowed hard, my toes curling against the small of Sanemi's back.

I needed more, more touch, more of Sanemi's voice unraveling me, but the bastard was still fully dressed, his damn shirt still buttoned while I was half-naked and trembling beneath him.

My fingers scrambled at Sanemi’s collar, blunt nails scraping against the starched fabric as I tugged uselessly at the buttons. “Take-” my voice cracked, throat tight with desperation, “take this off.” The words spilled out in a heated rush, more plea than demand, my hips canting up helplessly against Sanemi’s thigh.

Sanemi's grin widened, predator-sharp, as he caught my wrists and pinned them to the desk with one hand. His other thumb swiped slow over my bottom lip, catching the wetness there, before pressing down just enough to make my jaw slacken.

"Say please, pretty boy," he murmured, voice dripping with dark amusement. The command vibrated against my skin, and I shuddered, not from the cold, but from the way Sanemi's gaze raked over me like he was already mapping out every broken noise he'd wrench from me next.

My breath hitched, trapped between the weight of Sanemi's body and the unyielding wood of the desk. "Please," I gasped, the word fraying at the edges as Sanemi's thumb pressed harder against my lip.

My hips jerked uselessly, the sharp jut of Sanemi's belt buckle digging into my thigh, a cruel reminder of how clothed the bastard still was.

"Take it off," I begged, voice cracking on the last syllable, fingers flexing against Sanemi's grip like I could will him closer through sheer desperation alone.

Sanemi’s grip loosened just enough for me to feel the loss of pressure, before the CEO’s fingers curled into his own shirt collar, yanking it open with a sharp rip of fabric.

Buttons scattered across the desk, one bouncing off my bare chest before clattering to the floor. The sight of Sanemi’s exposed skin, taut muscle, old scars, the dark trail of hair leading south, stole the breath from my lungs.

My fingers scrabbled against Sanemi's chest the moment he was freed, nails biting into sweat-slicked skin as I dragged him down into another bruising kiss.

The taste of Sanemi, coffee and something darker, like the expensive whiskey he kept in his bottom desk drawer, flooded my senses, dizzying in its intensity.

Sanemi groaned into my mouth, hips grinding forward in a slow, filthy roll that had my toes curling against the backs of his thighs, my own cock throbbing where it strained against my zipper.

Sanemi's hands slid down my sides, fingers digging into my hips as he hauled me closer to the desk's edge, the wood biting into the backs of my thighs.

The friction was maddening, just enough to tease but never enough to relieve the pressure building low in my gut. My breath came in ragged pants against Sanemi's mouth, my body arching instinctively, chasing the heat of him.

Then Sanemi shifted, his knee nudging my legs wider, and suddenly our cocks were pressed together through layers of fabric; Sanemi's stiff length straining against his slacks, mine trapped beneath the tight confines of my own.

A choked noise escaped my throat as Sanemi rolled his hips in one slow, deliberate grind, the rough drag of denim against silk sending sparks up my spine. Every nerve in my body lit up, my fingers scrabbling for purchase against Sanemi's shoulders.

My head thumped back against the desk with a muffled groan as Sanemi’s hips rolled again, slower this time, dragging our clothed cocks together in a torturous grind that sent heat licking up my spine.

The friction was exquisite, just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy, the rough fabric of Sanemi’s slacks rasping against the strained silk of mine with every deliberate thrust.

Sanemi’s breath hitched above me, forehead pressed to mine as his grip tightened on my hips, fingers digging in like he wanted to leave bruises, proof of this, proof of us.

Isat up abruptly, my thighs trembling as I braced one hand against Sanemi’s shoulder for balance. Tears welled in my eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming intensity of it all, the way Sanemi’s touch scorched through me like wildfire.

A single drop escaped, trailing down my flushed cheek before Sanemi caught it with his thumb, his gaze flickering between my wet lashes and my parted lips. “Fuck,” Sanemi breathed, voice ragged, as if the sight of me coming undone was unraveling him too.

My orgasm hit like a tidal wave, slow at first, a creeping heat coiling at the base of my spine until it erupted all at once, tearing through me with a violence that left my vision whiting out at the edges. Every muscle in my body locked tight, my back arching off the desk as pleasure crackled through every nerve ending, so intense it bordered on pain.

My mouth fell open in a silent scream, fingers clawing into Sanemi's shoulders as if I could anchor myself against the sensation, but there was no escaping it, no stopping the way my hips jerked erratically against Sanemi's, chasing the friction even as my body burned itself out.

Sanemi barked a laugh, sharp and incredulous, watching my spent body shudder beneath him. "That's it?" he taunted, running a thumb through the sticky mess soaking through my slacks.

"Just a little grind and you're done? Fuck, I thought you'd at least last long enough for me to get my belt off." His voice was rough with amusement, but the way his own cock strained against his zipper betrayed him, I wasn't the only one affected.

My fingers trembled as they fumbled for Sanemi’s belt buckle, my movements still shaky from the aftershocks of my orgasm. The metal clicked open under my unsteady touch, and I didn’t miss the way Sanemi’s breath hitched, just slightly, when my knuckles brushed against the rigid outline of his cock.

"Shut up," I muttered, voice raw, as I dragged the belt free with a sharp tug, the leather slithering through the loops like a whisper. "You’re still fucking hard," I added, almost accusatory, as my palm pressed flat against Sanemi’s abdomen, feeling the tense muscles jump beneath my

touch.

My fingers dug into Sanemi’s waistband, yanking him forward with a sudden surge of strength that had the CEO stumbling, just enough for me to twist us around in one fluid motion, our positions reversing with a dizzying suddenness.

Sanemi’s back hit the edge of the desk with a thud, his breath escaping in a sharp exhale as I dropped to my knees before him, the hardwood floor unforgiving against my shins.

The look on Sanemi’s face, part shock, part hunger, was almost worth the ache already forming in my joints.

The zipper hissed as I tugged it down with my teeth, the sound drowned out by Sanemi’s ragged curse above me. The scent of him; musky, salt-sharp, filled my nostrils, making my mouth water as I nosed at the straining fabric of Sanemi’s briefs.

A single flick of my tongue over the damp spot was all it took to make Sanemi’s hips jerk forward, his fingers tangling roughly in my hair like he couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or shove me away.

“Fucking hell-” Sanemi’s voice broke as I finally freed his cock, hot and heavy against my tongue, the taste of precome bursting across my tastebuds.

I swallowed him down in one smooth motion, throat fluttering around the thick intrusion, relishing the way Sanemi’s thighs trembled under my palms.

The CEO’s grip tightened almost painfully in my hair, a string of filthy praises tumbling from his lips between gasps; good, perfect, just like that, each word hotter than the last.

I moaned around him, the vibration pulling a ragged groan from Sanemi’s chest, his hips stuttering forward in an aborted thrust. “Look at you,” Sanemi panted, his voice wrecked, fingers twisting tighter in my hair.

“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for it.” The praise curled around my spine like a brand, pooling liquid heat in my belly despite how spent I already was. My fingers dug into Sanemi’s thighs, urging him deeper, my own cock twitching traitorously at the sheer wrecked sound of Sanemi’s voice.

Sanemi’s control shattered. With a snarl, he yanked me forward by the hair, fucking into my throat with brutal, uneven strokes, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

My eyes watered, tears streaking down my flushed cheeks as I struggled to swallow around him, my throat convulsing with each thrust. The ache in my jaw, the sting in my scalp; it was overwhelming, perfect, everything, and I wouldn’t have stopped even if Sanemi tried to pull away.

Sanemi’s grip tightened in my hair, forcing my head back just enough to see the mess he’d made of me, I bet my lips were swollen and slick, and tears glistening on my cheeks.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, voice ragged, thumb swiping roughly over my wet bottom lip. “Look at you, pretty boy, kneeling for me like you were born to do it.” The words dripped with dark satisfaction, his cock twitching against my tongue as if to punctuate the claim.

My breath hitched as I felt it, the familiar ache building low in my belly again, my cock twitching back to life against my thigh despite the earlier release.

The realization burned through me like wildfire, shame and want tangling in my chest as I swallowed around Sanemi's length.

My free hand trembled before sliding down my own abdomen, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my ruined slacks with a quiet desperation.

The moment my fingers brushed my own hardened length, a broken whimper escaped my throat, vibrating around Sanemi in a way that made the CEO curse above me.

Sanemi's laughter was rough as gravel, his fingers tightening possessively in my hair when he felt the vibration of that whimper against his cock.

"Look at you," he growled, voice dripping with dark amusement as he watched my fingers disappear into his own slacks. "Already hard again? Desperate little thing, can't even focus on sucking me off without touching yourself."

He punctuated the taunt with a sharp thrust of his hips, the head of his cock hitting the back of my throat, drawing another wet, choked sound from me.

Sanemi yanked me up by my hair with a sharp tug, forcing me to release his cock with a wet pop. The sudden movement made me gasp, my lips slick and parted, just in time for Sanemi to crash our mouths together in a biting kiss, tasting himself on my tongue.

The metallic tang of blood mingled with salt as Sanemi's teeth caught my lower lip, the pain sharp and bright, and I moaned into it, my fingers still buried in my own slacks, stroking myself in frantic, uneven pulls.

"Turn," Sanemi growled against my mouth, shoving me backward until my hips hit the edge of the desk again. His hands were rough as he spun me around, pressing my chest flush against the polished wood while his fingers hooked into the waistband of my slacks, dragging them down in one sharp yank.

The cool air hit my exposed skin, my cock twitching against my stomach as Sanemi's palm came down hard on my ass; once, twice, the sting blooming across my flesh in a way that made my knees buckle.

Sanemi’s breath hitched as he dragged his fingers down my flushed back, tracing the lean muscles that trembled beneath his touch. "God, you're so fucking hot," he muttered, voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

His palm lingered at the small of my back, fingers splaying possessively over the dip there, as if he could sear the shape of his hand into my skin.

"Pretty boy," he added, quieter this time, the words rough against my shoulder as he pressed a biting kiss there, teeth scraping over sweat-slicked flesh.

Sanemi’s cock slid against my bare ass, the heat of him branding the cleft as he rutted forward in slow, filthy strokes. The dampness of precome smeared slick against my skin, the sensation maddening, so close to where I wanted him, but not yet there.

I shuddered, fingers scrabbling against the desk as Sanemi’s hips rolled again, the thick length of him dragging tantalizingly against ,y hole without pressing in.

“Fuck-” I gasped, hips jerking back instinctively, only for Sanemi to grip my waist and hold me still, laughing darkly at my desperation.

Sanemi’s fingers pressed against my lips. My tongue darted out instinctively, wrapping around his fingers with a slow, deliberate drag that made Sanemi’s breath hitch.

I turned around, sucking harder just to watch the way Sanemi’s pupils dilated, his free hand tightening possessively on the small of my back.

The contrast was dizzying, the sharp bite of his fingers in my hair earlier versus the gentle, almost reverent way his thumb now traced circles against my spine, like he couldn’t decide whether to wreck me or worship me.

Sanemi withdrew his fingers with a wet pop, pressing them against my entrance without preamble. The slick slide of it was obscene, the stretch just shy of painful as my body yielded inch by reluctant inch.

Sanemi’s breath came in uneven bursts against the nape of my neck; hot and erratic, before his teeth sank into the tender skin there, muffling a groan as I clenched around him.

“Fuck,” Sanemi gritted out, hips stuttering forward involuntarily, his cock twitching where it was trapped against my ass. “Tight as fucking hell, like you were made to take me.”

Sanemi’s lips trailed down the knobs of my spine, each kiss a brand against my feverish skin, hard enough to leave marks, lingering just long enough for me to feel the scrape of teeth before he moved lower.

When his tongue flicked against the dimple above my ass, I shuddered, my fingers clawing at the desk as a ragged moan tore from my throat.

“Move-” I gasped, hips jerking back against Sanemi’s teasing fingers, “move faster, please!”

“Everything for you, my pretty boy,” Sanemi murmured against the curve of my hip, voice dripping with dark promise. His thumb circled my entrance, pressing in just enough to make me whimper, before withdrawing entirely, only to replace it with two fingers, scissoring me open with ruthless precision.

The stretch burned, the slick slide of spit and precome obscene in the quiet of the office, but I didn’t care, not when Sanemi’s free hand was smoothing up my trembling thigh, possessive and reverent all at once.

Sanemi's fingers curled inside me, just right, and my vision whited out for a second, my knees nearly buckling as pleasure lanced up my spine. A ragged cry tore from my throat when Sanemi's thumb brushed my prostate again, deliberate and cruel in its precision, before withdrawing completely.

The sudden emptiness was worse than the stretch had been, leaving me gasping against the desk, my cock dripping onto the polished wood beneath me.

My breath hitched in ragged bursts, my forehead pressed against the cool wood of the desk as I rocked back onto Sanemi's fingers, only for the CEO to withdraw them entirely with a wet sound that made my ears burn.

"Sanemi," I choked out, the name fracturing into a whimper as my hips jerked uselessly, chasing the lost contact.

"Please, please, I need-" My voice shattered when Sanemi's palm landed on my ass with a sharp smack, the sting blooming hot across my skin as fingers dug into the flesh they'd just reddened.

Sanemi's laughter was dark as he leaned over my back, his breath scorching against the shell of my ear.

"Need what, pretty boy?" he taunted, grinding his cock against my exposed entrance in slow, torturous circles, close enough to tease, not close enough to give.

"Use your words." The command was rough, but his hands betrayed him, one splayed possessively across my hip, the other trailing down the trembling curve of my spine like he couldn't resist touching me.

My nails left crescent marks in the desk's polished surface as Sanemi's cockhead finally pressed against me, right there, teasing, the heat of it unbearable.

"Fuck me," I gasped, voice cracking like glass under pressure. The words hung between us, raw and desperate, and Sanemi rewarded me with a slow thrust of his hips, just the tip, just enough to make my thighs shake with the effort of staying upright.

Sanemi’s lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder blades, his teeth scraping over skin flushed pink with exertion. The sharp sting of each bite mingled with the slow, inexorable pressure of his cock pressing into my body, a torturous contrast that had my fingers scrambling for purchase against the desk.

I arched back instinctively, gasping as Sanemi’s hips rolled forward in one fluid motion, sheathing himself completely with a groan that vibrated against my damp skin.

“Fuck,” Sanemi muttered against my spine, his breath hitching as I clenched around him, tight and shuddering.

Sanemi's hips pulled back, agonizingly slow, before slamming forward again with enough force to send me lurching against the desk, my cock dragging against polished wood.

The slap of skin echoed through the office, mingling with my broken moans as Sanemi set a punishing rhythm, each thrust punctuated by the sharp bite of fingers bruising my hips.

The friction was brutal, perfect, the head of Sanemi's cock grinding against my prostate with unerring accuracy until my vision blurred, tears spilling down my flushed cheeks.

"Harder, please," I gasped, the words fraying at the edges as Sanemi's pace remained deliberately, maddeningly even, each deep thrust calculated to deny me the brutal snap of hips I craved.

My fingers clawed at the desk's edge, knuckles white with strain, as if I could physically pull Sanemi deeper into me through sheer desperation alone.

A broken sob escaped when Sanemi merely chuckled against the sweat-slick curve of my shoulder, his teeth scraping over the tendon there in a mockery of mercy.

Sanemi's grip tightened in my hair with sudden violence, wrenching my head back until my spine arched in a taut curve, the strain pulling a hoarse whimper from my throat.

The sting was electric, roots screaming, scalp burning, as Sanemi used the leverage to fuck into me at a sharper angle, the head of his cock carving fire through my nerves with every punishing drive.

Tears welled hot in my lashes, spilling over when Sanemi growled, "Look at you," his breath ragged against my exposed neck. "Begging for it like a fucking whore, you take me so perfect.”

Sanemi’s growled praise was abruptly cut off by three sharp raps against the office door; a polite but insistent rhythm that sliced through the haze of sweat and heat between us.

I froze beneath him, my entire body tensing as the wood creaked under our combined weight, the sound impossibly loud in the sudden silence.

Sanemi didn’t pull out, but his grip slackened in my hair, his breath hitching against my shoulder as we both listened, straining for any hint of who might be lingering just beyond the door.

Sanemi's palm clamped over my mouth before I could make another sound, the CEO's body pressing flush against my back in a warning that needed no words.

His other hand slid down my chest, fingers digging into my ribs hard enough to bruise, a silent command to stay still.

The office door creaked again, hinges protesting as someone tested the handle, and my breath hitched against Sanemi's palm, my pulse rabbiting beneath the grip.

"Busy!" Sanemi barked, voice rough with exertion but laced with enough authority to freeze even the most determined subordinate.

His hips rolled forward in one deliberate thrust, a brutal reminder of our current state, as I bit down on my tongue to stifle a whimper.

The movement sent papers cascading off the desk, fluttering to the floor like fallen leaves, but Sanemi didn't stop, didn't even slow down, his breath hot against my ear as he added, "Unless you want to explain why you're interrupting my work!”

The muffled voice on the other side of the door was unmistakably Mitsuri's; sweet, lilting, and currently laced with hesitant professionalism.

"Ah—sorry, Mr. Shinazugawa! Just wanted to let you know I finished reorganizing the financial reports you wanted shredded. Everything’s locked in the secure bins now."

There was a pause, the faint shuffle of her kitten heels shifting weight. "I’ll...just leave the keycard on your assistant’s desk then?"

Sanemi’s palm muffled the broken moan that tore from my throat as he drove into me without mercy, hips snapping forward in sharp, punishing thrusts that made the desk shudder beneath us.

The sound was wet, ragged against my skin half-strangled, half-pleasure as I arched back into the brutal pace, my body strung tight between Sanemi’s bruising grip and the unforgiving edge of the desk.

Papers slid to the floor in a whisper of disorder, but neither cared, not when every nerve was alight with the electric drag of skin on skin, the obscene slap of our bodies meeting with relentless force.

Sanemi's breath hitched, his thrusts slowing to a deliberate, rolling grind that had me biting into his palm to suppress a whine.

"Yeah, Mitsuri," he called out, voice impressively steady despite the way his fingers dug into my hipbones hard enough to leave marks.

"Leave it there. And-" A particularly deep thrust punctuated his words, my choked gasp lost under Sanemi's controlled tone, "have a nice evening."

The pause that followed was laden with tension, my thighs trembling as Sanemi's cock twitched inside me, the CEO's composure fraying at the edges.

The muffled sound of Mitsuri's hesitant footsteps retreating was the sweetest relief I had ever known.

Sanemi didn't wait for the click of the elevator doors, the moment her kitten heels faded down the hallway, he wrenched my hips back with a snarl, slamming into me with enough force to send a stapler clattering off the desk.

"Fucking hell," he growled against the sweat-slick curve of my shoulder, his teeth sinking into flesh as he fucked into me with renewed brutality, each thrust a punishment for the interruption. "You, shit, you clenched so tight I thought you'd break me."

My vision swam with tears, my fingers scrambling against the polished wood as Sanemi's laughter vibrated against my spine, dark and breathless with arousal.

"Good boy," Sanemi murmured, the praise molten against my skin as his palm smoothed up the trembling arch of my back. "Taking me so deep, keeping quiet like you were born for it."

His thumb dug into the dimple above my ass, possessive and rough, as his hips rolled forward in a torturously slow grind that had me biting my own wrist to stifle a sob.

I gasped when Sanemi pulled out abruptly, the sudden emptiness making my body clench around nothing, the loss of friction so abrupt it bordered on pain.

My knees buckled before Sanemi caught me by the throat, spinning me around with a rough jerk that sent stars exploding behind my eyelids.

The desk's edge dug into the small of my back as Sanemi shoved me against it, mouth crashing down onto mine with teeth and desperation, swallowing my ragged cry before it could escape.

Sanemi’s hands slid under my thighs with a growl, lifting me onto the desk in one fluid motion, papers scattering, a forgotten coffee mug tipping over the edge as my back hit the surface.

The sudden shift had me gasping, my legs instinctively wrapping around Sanemi’s waist as the CEO yanked me forward, the edge of the desk biting into my ass as Sanemi lined himself up and slammed back in with a single, brutal thrust.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, my head thudding against a stack of files as Sanemi’s fingers dug bruises into my hips, holding me impossibly close.

My cry shattered the air, raw, unfiltered, "S-Sanemi-" the name fractured into a sob as the CEO drove into me with relentless precision, each thrust nailing my prostate with brutal accuracy.

His fingernails scrabbled against the ruined paperwork beneath me, tearing through sheets as my back arched off the desk, every nerve alight with white-hot pleasure.

Tears spilled freely now, streaking my flushed cheeks as Sanemi's hips pistoned forward again, the slap of skin echoing off the walls, a relentless rhythm that left my voice ragged, my pleas dissolving into breathless whimpers with every snap of Sanemi's hips.

Sanemi's grip tightened around my throat without warning, fingers pressing hard into the delicate hollows beneath my jaw, just shy of crushing.

My mouth fell open in a silent scream, my vision tunneling as the pressure cut off my air, my cock twitching violently against my stomach from the sudden deprivation.

"That's it," Sanemi snarled, his breath hot against my ear as he fucked into me with jackhammer thrusts, "look at me when I ruin you."

His thumb pressed down on my windpipe, watching with rapt attention as my eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering like moth wings against my tear-streaked cheeks.

Sanemi's grip loosened just enough for me to drag in a ragged gasp, my throat working beneath the CEO's fingers as my vision swam back into focus.

The first thing I saw was Sanemi's smirk, dark and victorious, before the man leaned down, his breath scorching against my parted lips.

"That's better," Sanemi murmured, his free hand sliding up to cradle my jaw, thumb brushing roughly over my lower lip. "I wanna see your pretty face when I fill you up, pretty boy."

The words dripped with possession, rough with arousal, and I shuddered, my nails digging into Sanemi's forearms as the CEO's hips rolled forward in a slow, deliberate grind that had me seeing stars.

Sanemi's palm slid down my chest with agonizing slowness, fingers tracing the dip of my ribs before finally, finally wrapping around my cock in a tight, calloused grip.

The first stroke was brutal, no preamble, no mercy, his thumb smearing precome over the head in rough, uneven circles before dragging down the length of me in perfect sync with the next thrust of his hips.

The sensation was overwhelming, Sanemi's cock driving deep inside me while his hand worked my length in the same relentless rhythm, each movement calculated to wring another broken sound from my throat.

My back arched off the desk, my heels digging into the small of Sanemi's back as I fought to press closer, to take more, my body strung tight between pleasure and overstimulation.

My entire body locked tight when Sanemi's thumb swiped over the head of my cock again, just the right pressure, just the right twist and I came with a shattered cry, my release streaking hot across my stomach in erratic pulses.

The orgasm ripped through me like a lightning strike, my vision whiting out as my back arched off the desk, toes curling against Sanemi's lower back.

The CEO's grip on my cock tightened, milking me through it with ruthless efficiency, and I sobbed, oversensitive and trembling, my fingers scrambling for purchase against Sanemi's sweat-slick forearms.

Sanemi’s hips stuttered against my oversensitive body, his rhythm fracturing into uneven thrusts as I clenched around him in the aftershocks of my own orgasm.

The CEO’s breath came in ragged bursts against my throat, his grip tightening bruisingly on my thigh as he chased his own release, each snap of his hips more desperate than the last.

I whimpered at the overstimulation, my body still twitching with residual pleasure, but I didn’t pull away, couldn’t, not when Sanemi’s pupils were blown wide with need, his teeth sinking into his own lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Giyuu-” The name tore from Sanemi’s throat like a prayer, raw and fractured, as his thrusts grew erratic, his cock pulsing deep inside my body.

Sanemi's body slumped forward with a shuddering exhale, his forehead pressing against my shoulder as his hips stilled, buried deep.

The aftershocks pulsed through both of us, Sanemi twitching inside me, me trembling beneath him, our sweat-slick skin sticking together in the humid aftermath.

For a moment, neither of us moved, the only sound our ragged breathing syncing gradually, Sanemi's fingers slowly unclenching from their death-grip on my thigh to trace idle circles on his hip instead.

Sanemi's lips crashed back onto mine with a roughness that bordered on violence, all teeth and tongue and the coppery tang of blood from where we'd bitten each other earlier.

His hands framed my face with unexpected gentleness, thumbs brushing away the tear tracks staining my cheeks even as his tongue mapped every inch of my mouth like he was committing the taste to memory.

The kiss was slower now, deeper, a counterpoint to the frantic pace we'd set minutes before, Sanemi's breath hitching against my lips when I whimpered at the overstimulation of Sanemi still buried inside me.

Sanemi pulled back with a wet sound, his lips swollen and dark as he surveyed my wrecked expression.

His thumb traced the curve of my lower lip, smearing saliva and precome in a slow, possessive stroke before murmuring, "Fuck, look at you," voice hoarse with something dangerously close to reverence.

The words hung between us, charged and fragile, as Sanemi's fingers tightened imperceptibly against my jaw, like he was afraid to let

Go.

Sanemi finally pulled out with a wet sound that made me flinch, my body twitching at the sudden emptiness before the CEO pressed a kiss to my trembling thigh, almost apologetic, if Sanemi were capable of such things.

He straightened with a groan, rolling his shoulders as he stalked toward the private bathroom adjoining his office, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion. The door clicked open, the faint scent of cedar and expensive soap wafting out as Sanemi rummaged through cabinets with single-minded focus, the clatter of glass bottles betraying his haste.

Sanemi emerged with a damp towel clutched in his fist, his gaze raking over my prone form still splayed across the ruined desk, the slow drip of come down my thighs, the way my chest rose and fell in shallow bursts.

The CEO’s touch was unexpectedly gentle as he dragged the towel over my stomach, wiping away the evidence of our encounter with methodical strokes that lingered just a second too long on every bruise and bite mark.

"You’re a mess," he muttered, but the roughness in his voice betrayed something darker than irritation, something hungry and possessive that made me shiver despite the warmth of the towel.

He stepped away from me and toward the small coffee machine sitting on the side table near his desk, like he needed a moment to collect himself. I watched him from where I stood, still trying to steady my breathing.

"Sit," he said, nodding toward the chair by his desk again, but this time his voice was calmer. Less teasing. More real.

I hesitated, then did as he asked.

The sound of the machine hummed softly as he poured coffee into two cups. The smell filled the office, warm and familiar, grounding in a way I didn’t realize I needed. He brought one over and set it in front of me.

"For you," he said. "You look like you need it."

I glanced up at him. "You’re the one who caused this."

He snorted. "Fair."

I wrapped my hands around the cup, the warmth seeping into my fingers. For a moment, we just sat there, me at the desk, him leaning against it across from me, the silence no longer heavy, just comfortable.

"You know," he said after a while, quieter now, "I don’t usually have sex with someone, before aI went on a first date. with them"

I looked at him, unsure where he was going with that.

My heart picked up again. "Sanemi-"

He took a breath, like he was actually nervous, something I’d never seen before. "Go out with me."

I blinked. "What?"

"An actual date," he clarified quickly. "Not work. Not the office. Just us. Coffee that isn’t from this awful machine. A place where I can show everyone you're mine, without a Shinobu making stupid remarks."

That earned a quiet laugh from me before I could stop it.

"You don’t have to answer right away," he added, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just, wanted to ask."

I looked down at the coffee for a second, then back up at him. The teasing, the tension, the way he looked at me like I mattered, it all clicked into place.

"I’d like that," I said softly. "Yeah. I’ll go."

His expression shifted instantly, relief and satisfaction mixing into something warm. "Yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He grinned, unmistakably pleased. "Good. Then it’s a date."

I took another sip of my coffee, my chest feeling lighter than it had in a long time.