Work Text:
Murkoff's workplace was a highlight of brutalism and industry, a dynamic cataclysm of machinery and malice. Every action was out of desperation or business ethics, with employees strictly forced to keep their mouth shut about what they saw and heard. It was a confidential science that never showed mercy, especially with those unlucky enough to be acquainted with the infamous morphogenic engine.
Nearly every employee in-house was a male. The average guy, corrupted by money and power, possibly deeper urges. Nearly every single person in that facility thrived on that fact, using it to weigh their influence over the husbands waiting to see their family, or single men that had nothing else going for them at all. The sterile atmosphere held no comfort, above or below ground, whether you were an unfortunate patient in Mount Massive or the top brass in Murkoff's lineup.
A major piece on the chessboard in the organization of cruel experiments was executive Jeremy Blaire. He was constantly adorned with luxury suits, paired with a demeanor that made him look more like a douchebag than the President, both only catering to the undeniable charisma he carried. Everyone knew each other to be evil. Yet, there were people who knew some better than others. Colleagues that ended up being more than such, conspiring in their own twisted fantasies of obedience and greed, all while distrusting the other.
Richard Trager. A long time friend of Jeremy Blaire, and a smooth talker who also never knew when to keep his mouth shut. With an attitude cocky like smoke in the summer, he held a different kind of draw that often kept people talking about him. Him and Jeremy were two sides of the same coin, both just as involved in business ethics as the other. They knew the deeper evils behind Murkoff's profit, and they loved it.
The offices in Murkoff were often assorted in variety. From security rooms that kept watch of sanitization chambers, to small offices with tacky decor for superficial purpose, it encompassed multiple sides of the human nature. Jeremy's office was no exception, especially being high in command as the main and utmost supervisor of Project Walrider, preceding the late Rudolf Wernicke. Everything had its place, and was absolutely not to be put otherwise— unless he himself had other plans.
It was like any other day. Trager casually lounging on the edge of Jeremy's desk with the awareness of a sparrow, rambling on and on about how he might spike another employee's drink just for unearthing Murkoff's deeper operations. She was a threat, but that wasn't Trager's biggest complaint. It was the fact that she questioned *him,* an executive, head of Business Development. Jeremy made a sardonic comment in passing, a simple return. His mind was elsewhere.
Lately, parties hadn't pleased him. Too many whores, and not enough to get a good rush from anything, not even from the expensive wines that were often available by request. He glanced up at Trager with a mindless gaze, just barely carrying the same charismatic expression as usual. Yet, Jeremy's fingers rested on the glinting handle of a specific drawer, poised with too much rehearsal.
He wasn't even listening anymore, and Trager didn't seem to notice yet. His voice carried through the room with the same obnoxious twinge, but it faded into the background then. Jeremy was focused on his expensive laptop, and the commands he held for the security cameras at his fingertips. With the click of a button, the security cameras near and in his office were shut off instantly. He sighed, with almost too much finality.
"Rick.. I say this in the most friendly way possible right now," Jeremy began, entirely disregarding what Trager was talking about prior. The look on his face was anticipatory, almost bracing for something. But, he wasn't ready for what Jeremy had in store. Not at all.
With a swift motion, Jeremy stood, holding a deep silver pistol in his hand, once hidden in his desk. He pointed it at Trager's forehead, tilting his head like a curious beast. "I know you've been eyeing me. You even asked me for sex while you were drunk. Remember that?"
Trager's eyes were wide with alarm, and something far more humiliating. His gaze flickered from the gun barrel, and back to Jeremy's face. "Well, Jer," he shrugged, attempting to play off whatever he got himself into as a mere joke. "You are a handsome devil, yeah?" He felt his breath catch in his throat, the room around him seeming to grow hot with tension— and a feeling much deeper in his core.
Jeremy pushed the gun barrel an inch closer, watching the conflict play across Trager's face. His jaw was visibly further clenched, his expression starkly serious beneath the constant playful front he held up like a sickening mask. With a scoff, Jeremy tilted the pistol just enough to show the trigger area. His pointer finger rested outside of it, a constant taunt that he used to his full advantage. "Just stay still, Rick. We're going to enjoy ourselves— sober this time."
Richard's eyes flickered in an unintelligible mix of mystery and awe, both riddled with a knowledge that he was entirely at Jeremy's command. And, more importantly, just how much he enjoyed being forced into it after everything.
Jeremy reached into another covert matte drawer, all while keeping the nose of the gun pressed to Trager's temple. He remained perfectly still, his amber eyes tracing his close friend's hand with undying urgency. Jeremy's hands rummaged around, seemingly just attempting precision, until he finally pulled out what he was looking for: a bundle of restraints. Not just any ordinary handcuffs, but firm brown leather, chained especially for use on wrists and ankles.
Jeremy set them on the desk, his icy eyes narrowing as his smirk only became more apparent. The long silence, for a moment, only became punctuated by the ambience of soulless office workers and Trager's stuttering breaths. Blaire didn't say another word before he wrapped his fingers around the first restraint. Even without words, Richard knew exactly what he meant to do.
He obeyed, unable to properly keep eye contact with Jeremy as his wrists were put together, tied above his head like a body to the sacrifice. Yet, it felt more intimate, with the edges of the textured material biting into his skin. He resigned, especially now that Jeremy already had him bent over his desk like some kind of fuck toy. He was already half restrained, but Jeremy still wasn't done. Not at all.
As his fingers intricately worked with the restraints loose on Trager's ankles, Richard's eyes flickered to the gun on the sleek desk, briefly left unsupervised in the face of Jeremy's control. The thought crossed his mind, and it only flashed across his mind for a moment before he acted. Immediately, he twisted himself with warning, wrapping both hands around the pistol's handle and wrenching himself free of Jeremy's restraint.
Jeremy's expression sparked in hostility, his teeth gritted. It wasn't supposed to go this way, especially not with Trager now pointing the gun at his head. "C'mon, buddy.. undo the wrist buckles. I got a deal for you here," Trager slurred, his chin tilted downward, as if he were a poised carnivore in the woods. Yet, it was for naught, all of his intimidation. Jeremy, in all of his cockiness, cracked a slight smile.
"Really, Rick? Are you going to shoot your long-time friend, as well as high Murkoff executive, Jeremy Blaire?" He proposed, even walking closer to the pistol's nose as Trager responded with a flinch. "You're going to trade some inconvenient sex for a lifetime of being hunted and known as the rotten man who murdered the head of Murkoff?"
Trager's snarl only became more frustrated, yet a flame seemed to die down in his chest. Without much struggle or fight, Jeremy reached up and retrieved the gun. It rested in his grip again, as he brought his other hand up to tilt Richard's chin up. They were eye-to-eye, inches away from each others face. "You're pathetic," Jeremy jabbed, his breath hot against Trager's cheek, before he immediately went in for a kiss.
There was no rhyme or reason to the heat between them. Their lips were locked in a gesture fatally intimate, even as Richard attempted to push Blaire away. But, Jeremy wouldn't budge, not even slightly. The gun was set aside blindly, his hands gripping Trager with a bit too much desire beneath his fingertips, his tongue reaching the corners of Richard's mouth. And then, momentarily, Trager's resistance ebbed away, as his restrained wrists came to rest between them.
When Jeremy finally pulled away, he didn't retract more than a small space away from Trager's face. It was just enough to see the hesitation in his eyes, glassy with a mixture of anger and a look of need. "Just give in," Jeremy whispered, his words ghosting across his colleague's skin. His hand came down before Trager could even reply, his palm settling on his friend's crotch and groping him with deliberate pressure.
Richard's breath hitched, his body buzzing with a humiliating pleasure that he couldn't suppress forever. "Jer, come on, just—"
Jeremy tightened his grip just slightly, and that was enough to elicit a choked gasp from Trager. "Give me a yes, and it'll be over before you know it. You'll probably enjoy it anyway," he drawled. Trager couldn't see his face, seeing how close they were in contact, but he could hear Jeremy's smile in the way he spoke. His hand never moved, a constant taunt that left Richard reeling.
"I.." Trager began, his words dying in his throat as he weighed his options. As much as he hated it, Jeremy had been correct about everything so far. From the predicament looming above Trager to the fact that he would enjoy being used by Jeremy, all of it had him cornered. With a resigning sigh, he spoke. "Yes." His admission was shameful in tone, as if it were a true statement that he didn't want to ever admit.
Jeremy scoffed in a sense of victory, finally releasing his fingers from Trager's crotch. Yet, Richard's hips moved just slightly on their own accord, and it did not go unnoticed. Jeremy's eyes raked up and down, his ego beaming through his smirk alone. "Like I said earlier.. hold still." His tone wasn't nearly as sarcastic, instead remaining cold with command. He wasted no time moving down Richard's body, leather in hand, and binding his ankles just far apart to his own liking.
Jeremy bent Trager back over the desk, with loose papers being pushed slightly off of the polished surface. He kept his hand on the back of Richard's head, tangling his fingers in his curls with a taunting motion. Trager shuddered, the touch being almost electric with its contact. "Oh? You like that?" Jeremy taunted, his hum toxic with something lethal. He sighed, reveling in the power balance like a drug.
He reached back down towards the same drawer, for an entirely different box. Trager was left in the dark about it, let alone everything happening now. He could hardly focus on anything except Jeremy's influence, and where his hands settled. He was pressed up againt Richard already, the tension in the pristine office rising with every passing second with Jeremy's warm body above him. He didn't dare to speak; he knew there'd be the risk of him giving himself away even further.
Jeremy's fingers wrapped around the small box, a silver ring on his finger glinting with menace beneath the sterile white lights. Still, he said nothing, working in silence and carefully retrieving a thin metal contraption. Originally held in velvet cushioning, now in Jeremy's fingers, was a sounder. It was cool to the touch, slightly rigid and reflective with knowing. Trager knew exactly what it was as much as Jeremy, with their occupations branching into medical care— and malpractice.
"I wouldn't move if I were you. I don't think that'd be very advisable," Jeremy teased, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips as he backed off just enough from Trager to proceed. Jeremy undid Richard's belt with a practiced motion, catching the way that his breath hitched in anticipation more so than fear now. The metal clicked apart, loosening at the waist as the zipper from his fly was dragged down. With ease and full advantage, Jeremy pulled down the edge of Trager's boxers, freeing his now obvious erection.
Richard let out a gasp as the clinical air of the office space came in contact with his warm skin, only serving to amuse Jeremy more. Yet, he didn't comment on it, simply smiling to himself now that he knew he had won already. With a practiced motion, he took Trager's cock in his hand, and began to insert the sounder with just enough care.
Immediately, Richard began to lose himself. Choked inhales and groans left his lungs, not only from the imminent pain as Jeremy controlled him, grazing metal against his insides, but the undeniable pleasure that accompanied it. Every time he hit resistance and recalibrated, Trager snarled in a mixture of a response to hurt, and the arousal he could no longer conceal.
At last, with a final small push of the finger, the sounder was inserted fully, pressed right up again Richard's prostate and making every motion feel like sexual torture. By now, he was throbbing from multiple sensations at once, and it was making him needy. All of it was passing him by so fast. How some part of him was ready to shoot Jeremy just to protect his pride, and now he was enjoying that same humiliation against his will.
"Jer, you bastard— Ah—" Trager choked out, his cock twitching in anticipation despite himself. Jeremy couldn't help but scoff in amusement at the display, reaching down into the same drawer and retrieving a small bottle of lube. "Just relax, Rick," he commanded, taking a deep breath, his dress shirt taut over his chest. He couldn't ignore his own anticipation, his boner already grinding against his pants. "For being such an uptight bitch, you make a lot of noise."
All that Trager could argue with was a frustrated growl, low from within his chest. He was forced to exhale just as fast, his entire body tense with the looming threat of Jeremy. He had backed up off of Richard again, already coating himself with the lube he had in his palm, but Trager didn't dare to move, even if he could. Jeremy was slick, his breaths coming in slightly more frenzied as his mind ran wild. Even just his fingertip brushing over his cock made him bite back a shudder, especially as he fully exposed Richard.
With a hand on the back of Richard's head again, the other lining him up with Trager's entrance, he took one final breath. There was no warning, or even further comment. Jeremy's last shred of patience simply faded as he impatiently buried himself deep within Trager, a heady groan escaping his lungs. He began to move, gripping Richard's hips with crescent red blooming beneath his nails. The initial penetration sent a new wave of irritation through Trager's body, despite the lubrication.
Immediately, he was overstimulated, and didn't know what to do with it. Every thrust from Jeremy, no matter how slowly paced, was strong. "Jeremy—" He choked, almost without realizing, the full name slipping past his conscious. He bit down in his bottom lip hard, only layering to the constant sensation coming from all sides. The sounder was a taunting pain inside of him, constantly against his prostate as much as Jeremy was dominating him. Fingers gripped his waves with intense fervor, spoken of desire.
"Fuck, just relax already," Jeremy spat, his teeth bared as his hips moved relentlessly, the sound of skin against skin vaguely echoing through the space. He forced Trager's head up, tangling his fingers in his scalp and making their eyes meet. There was something in Richard's gaze that was lost, up for grabs. That only drove Jeremy wild, beyond civility, as his thrusts grew more powerful with hunger.
Every penetration wrung a desperate noise out of Trager, the desk beneath them becoming disorganized amidst the chaos. His entire body ached already with the torment he was undergoing, every muscle taut with restraint and control. Utterly helpless, his hands tensed up in a strain. "Jer.. you piece of shit—" Richard growled, with speaking alone being an immense effort.
Jeremy panted as he continued his assault, his grip only becoming tighter with vigor. "Insulting me.. yet still using that name," he remarked, scoffing with a husky twinge. "Real cute." He grinned down at Trager, only further pounding into his head who was really in control.
Richard could feel himself becoming stupider, lost in the multitude of sensations that threatened to overpower his resolve. As a final effort, he twisted his torso with gritted teeth, attempting to grab the pistol that lay nearby, and to no avail. The sounder sent a shockwave through his prostate as Jeremy humped deep within, his entire body jerking and knocking the gun to the floor with an obnoxious clatter.
Jeremy let out a dark chuckle, leaning down further against Richard. "So close, yet so far," he teased, his thrusts becoming faster, more disorganized with a raw and primal urge. Jeremy's voice wavered beneath the lines, his movements still practiced despite their ferality.
Trager was utterly hopeless, and he could feel his body so close to giving in to that fact. His only hope left was the fact that the sounder had begun to slip out slightly, no longer so invasive against his insides as before. Yet, the relief was short-lived. Jeremy noticed the tension ebbing away in small amounts in Richard's body, and pinpointed the source. The hand originally gripping Trager's hip snaked around, and then, with a gesture so small, pushed the sounder deep again.
That small motion drew out the first louder noise from Richard, a cry that he hadn't meant to let escape. It sent another shudder through Jeremy, only making him that much more pleased. He didn't comment on it, thoroughly astray in the pleasure that coursed through his veins. His body moved with a newfound need, a heavy drug that left no room anymore for snarky comments or degrading taunts.
Trager's back arched the further they went on, his usual sweatshirt riding up on his figure and exposing his lower back. He attempted to fight back with the last dignity he still had, even with the temptation to give in sooner whispering in his ear. Yet, all attempts were shattered like glass, with Jeremy's thrusts being infuriatingly precise. Even just pleasuring himself at the end of it, Richard was enjoying himself just as much, as was his used body.
There was no decorum left between the two of them anymore as the sound of flesh meeting became echoes against the pale walls, Trager's initial noises melting into frustrated groans that he could no longer hold back. Jeremy's breaths were moreso growls of exertion, with their shared sweat only adding to the heat of the room. He could feel the pressure building in his core, and his speed picked up almost uncontrollably at the cost of his form.
Richard was entirely victimized, the sounder only sending electrical sensations of pain and pleasure through his lower body that blended with Jeremy nearly hitting that specific spot within him. He was so close to everything, yet still at nothing. His muscles were frustrated with the anticipation, while his brain remained melted with overstimulation. He had begun to drool on the desk, just barely missing the documents that lay flat beneath him.
Jeremy, by then, was close. His thrusts became more of a series of humps, stuttering with desperation and intoxicating desire. His sweaty hand finally moved from Trager's hair, only to grip his hips with much more pressure than ever before. He angled himself for his own optimal pleasure, every fast and slick movement sending waves of ecstasy through his figure. He was on the edge, panting heavily as he instinctively zoned in on his singular goal.
In the process of readjusting himself, his cock thrusting even deeper into Richard, he hit the spot that overstimulated Trager. The sounds that followed were nothing like Richard himself, shrill noises of pleasure like he was experiencing something beyond any description. It only served to get Jeremy off more, as he gritted his teeth, riding out his climax with bucking hips. His orgasm was a continuous onslaught, his breaths ragged as he choked on his own inhales. His hair, now unkempt, hung over his forehead in sweaty strands, framing his icy eyes.
Richard himself was an entirely different mess. He was on edge, just barely enough to not be ready yet. His hair was tousled, drool trailing from the corner of his mouth as he gasped for breath. Every feeling felt like a firestorm, almost wrath-inducing and thorough euphoria at the same time. The sounder was a constant prod, remaining in him, unmoving. Jeremy's thrusts slowed as the last waves of his own enjoyment faded, but they never truly stopped. His cock was still sensitive, especially as he continued moving in Trager.
Silent at first, Jeremy pressed himself harder onto Richard, his fingers going down to Trager's throbbing erection and wrapping at the base of it. Even just that made him cry out, reduced and used. "Just let it all go," Jeremy whispered, his voice husky as he lightly began to stroke Richard. With all of the preexisting stimulation, that was all it took to send him far over the edge. Yet, he was disallowed, with the sounder still in him.
Trager failed entirely at biting back the humiliating moans of pain and sensation that tore through his throat. His entire body convulsed as the overstimulation waged war on his muscles, especially when the sounder only prevented him from reaching release. "Fuck— Jeremy! Jer—" Richard whined at the top of his lungs, brainless and only focused on the need to cum. It was sheer torment, all of the pressure in his core searing with too many sensations, blending into a beastly desire. "Please, God!"
His hands tensed up, his spine curving as the sounder began to slip out on its own accord. Jeremy's finger rested on the tip of it, as well as Trager's cock, another layer of torture. And finally, without another word, he slowly withdrew the sounder, the slick metal being removed from Richard's body and releasing all of the pressuring emotional and sexual need that was stuck. His climax was much more violent, less of a relief and euphoria more than a high that felt white-hot. A final cry escaped his throat, choked out and wet with drool and tears.
Jeremy withdrew, setting the sounder aside mindlessly as he took his own time to recuperate. As they caught their breath, recovering in their own ways, Trager let out an uncharacteristic shudder as he pushed himself up off the desk. Jeremy's cum ran down his leg, still warm with their shared exertion and desire.
"Oh? Who did that? Looks pretty bad," Jeremy teased, his half-assed sarcasm being accompanied by a malicious smirk. Trager looked back with a scowl, exhausted and smothered in sweat.
"Shut the fuck up, Jer," Richard spat, attempting to regain himself, his legs still uneasy. "I'm just not a quitter. That's all. Nobody likes a quitter."
Jeremy shot him a glance that suggested otherwise, with Trager returning the favor in surprisingly playful banter.