by Clare London
“Zeke?”
“We’ll get home,” Zeke whispered against Miles’s neck. “But after.”
What…? Miles lifted his head, startled. He could taste Zeke’s saliva on his lips, and his cock had hardened already inside his pants. But before he could say anything more, Zeke’s other hand emerged from behind his back and snapped something around Miles’s right wrist. With a moment’s shock, Miles registered the passing glint of steel and the cold feel of metal on his skin. Then, with another snap, Zeke fastened the other end to a drawer handle of the filing cabinet. It was all done in seconds.
“What the hell?” Miles’s mouth opened and then closed again. He stared at the cabinet, then back to Zeke’s face, only inches away from his own. He met Zeke’s bold gaze, eyes wide and challenging. “Handcuffs?”
Zeke leaned in to kiss Miles again, but Miles instinctively pulled back. Zeke frowned. “What?”
“Undo it.” Miles pulled at the cuff, testing its resistance. Zeke had cuffed him to a drawer at hip level, so there was no awkwardness to the angle. But the drawer was locked shut and the cabinet solidly made. Miles couldn’t tug himself free.
He’d never been restrained. Nothing at all like this. He’d never been trapped in a small space, faced serious violence. Any pressure in his life had always been intellectual rather than physical. And even when he’d been to clubs with Red de Vere, and some of the games in the private rooms had been more extreme….
No, it had never been like this. One on one, deliberately caught, no one else near enough either to hear his cries or to respond to his fury.
Was that a tremor of fear in his gut?
“I said, undo it. This is not….” He struggled to find the words. He was angry at being ambushed, definitely that. But at the same time, he recognized excitement. What the hell was that about? His heart hammered in his chest and his underarms were clammy with fresh sweat, but it was a fight, not flight reaction. What’s more, he was rock hard. Zeke stepped between Miles’s outstretched legs, and Miles knew Zeke would feel Miles’s erection pressing against his thigh. He couldn’t imagine what Zeke had in mind. Oh, really? No, of course, that wasn’t true at all. He could imagine, but he rather thought he was afraid to.
Zeke pushed him backward, a firm hand on his chest. Miles’s knees bent and his ass thumped on to the desktop, and then he went down onto his back. Papers crunched up under his head, the handcuffs rattled, and the cabinet creaked as its handle was tugged, but if Miles kept his right arm outstretched, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just….
Restraining.
Zeke stood between Miles’s knees, looking down at him. “Shit. You look fucking gorgeous. Your face is flushed, and you look like you don’t know whether to be shocked or furious.” He chuckled and leaned farther over, running a hand through Miles’s thick hair. “Those jet black locks, damp with sweat, spread out on your sterile white documents.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “Fucking gorgeous.”
Miles didn’t feel gorgeous in any way at all, but as he stared up into Zeke’s widening pupils, he imagined himself reflected as a different man entirely. Something startled and tousled and… wild. He opened his mouth to protest, reaching his free hand to Zeke at the same time.
“No,” Zeke said quickly. He caught Miles’s hand and pressed it back down onto the desktop, effectively holding him spread-eagled in place. “I won’t let you free. Not just yet. Indulge me.”
Miles cleared a throat gone suddenly dry. The gleam in Zeke’s eyes was familiar, almost feral. “I don’t want—I don’t understand.” His voice sounded higher than usual.
Zeke frowned. “Miles? I’m just playing. You know that, don’t you?”
For a long moment they were both silent, the air tight around them.
Then Miles nodded.
Zeke let out a breath. “You know you’ll like this.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort.” Miles still felt a shiver of panic. “And not here. There are papers… someone might… I mean, I don’t—”
“But you do.” The hand Zeke rested on Miles’s torso slid all the way down to his belly and then his groin, stroking the hard bulge under his pants. Miles moaned, an involuntary sound that shocked him with its strength.
“Yeah. Thought so.” Zeke sounded triumphant. “I saw the expression on your face as you looked at my samples. I know what caught your eye. You never did this before with anyone?”
Miles made a strange gargled noise in the back of his throat.
Zeke smiled and his other hand ran back up the inside of Miles’s arm, caressing Miles’s throat, running a finger almost carelessly along his open shirt collar. “No problem if you did or didn’t. You never did it with me, that’s what matters.”
Miles wriggled, trying to sit up, but the cuff rattled again as if to warn him. “Stay where you are,” Zeke ordered. “Lie back. Give up the control thing, Miles. You may be at work—but you’re definitely not in charge. You’d better make the most of it.”
You’re not in charge.
Miles was still tense, but he stopped fighting the cuff. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Then he moved his head to the side, testing what and how far he could see from that position. A leather-covered pot of pens lay on its side by his left ear, where a couple of pencils had rolled out over his scattered documents. He could feel the sharp edges of ripped paper beneath his shoulders, and when he moved his head the other way, the edge of a paper clip bit into his ear. And then he was distracted from his investigations because Zeke started to sink down onto his knees, and Miles’s attention leaped immediately to follow. Both of Zeke’s hands slid slowly from Miles’s neck to his torso as he went down into a crouch, opening the silk shirt, flipping button by button.
Miles groaned. He hitched himself up on his free elbow, craning his neck to try and see what Zeke was doing.
“Hush.” Zeke’s whisper came from somewhere down between Miles's knees. Miles could just see the crown of Zeke’s dark auburn hair, his forehead, and the upper curve of his eyes and lids, crinkles of amusement at the edges. “I want you spread out above me, Miles Winter, panting, handcuffed. Captive, even if only for a little while. I want to know what that looks like. Feels like.”
Miles tried to catch his breath, but it was painful in his chest. His shirt was fully open, the silk bunching under his armpits, although Zeke had made no move to take it off. Zeke’s hands were busy elsewhere now. He gripped Miles’s calf with one hand to steady himself while the other reached back up and slid down the zip of Miles’s pants.
Miles’s groan turned into another moan, almost louder than the previous one.
“Sexy,” Zeke whispered, his breath hot on Miles’s lap. “I love those black boxers of yours.” He leaned forward and nudged the fly of Miles’s pants aside with his nose. Miles felt the cooler air on his groin, now exposed in nothing but his underwear. His cock was swelling, straining against the thin fabric. He could smell his excitement, too, the tangy mixture of sweat and leaking pre-come. Zeke chuckled again, his breath stirring the hairs on Miles’s inner thigh.
“What…?”
“Hush. Give it up, Miles.”
But maybe Miles wasn’t quite ready to do that yet. He swallowed and started again. “What are you doing? What the hell would the shareholders say if someone caught me with my clothes off in the middle of the office, chained to my cabinet…?” The vision was suddenly very bright and very vivid in his mind and made him flush even more deeply. A trapped muscle twitched in his thigh. His erection shifted restlessly inside his boxers, spreading the wet patch.
“Maybe they’d want some of it themselves.” Zeke chuckled. “Such delicious cock—and I should know. But dammit, there’s no way I’m going to share.”
Miles’s dick swelled further at Zeke’s words, stirring on the bed of pubic hair as if it were responding, agreeing. Begging.
“And we won’t go that far, will we? You still have your pants on, after all. I don’t need to strip you to enjoy you. To taste you.”
Zeke leaned in again, his cheek brushing Miles’s balls, trapped in the material. They clenched up underneath Miles’s fiercely growing arousal. Zeke flicked his tongue out and lapped at the fabric of Miles's boxers, just where it stretched taut along the line of his belly.
“Oh fuck.”
“Well… not just now.” Zeke’s voice was husky. He shifted, obviously settling himself more comfortably in his crouched position, and his head rubbed against the inside of Miles’s thigh. He breathed heavily on Miles’s groin, and then he started to lick again, slowly, lasciviously, greedily, his tongue snagging on the damp material, and his lips molding around the thickened cock beneath.
Miles arched up. The cuff tightened on his wrist, the cabinet drawer rattled in complaint. “Zeke… dear God….”
“Tastes so good,” came the muffled voice from between his legs.
Miles started panting. He didn’t recognize some of the soft, agonized sounds coming from his mouth. Zeke had heard—no, provoked—a wide range of moans from Miles in the many months they’d been together, but these were new, fractured sounds, with a hoarse timbre of their own. They were totally uninhibited. Zeke’s lips tightened around the tip of Miles’s cock, capturing the flesh under the material, suckling gently at it. It bobbed against Zeke’s lower lip. Miles felt every touch, every stroke, every lap of Zeke’s tongue.
“Can’t….” His hips jerked. “Makes me….”
“Hmm?” Zeke hummed around his dick. “You’re not making yourself very clear, Miles. I’ll just have to guess what you mean.” He went back to licking up and down the sides, occasionally catching a fold of the expensive cotton between his teeth and tugging playfully. Miles squirmed under the caresses, not knowing whether to cry out from pleasure or protest. Once, on the downward stroke, Zeke nosed further into the pants opening and captured a mouthful of Miles’s balls, his tongue wriggling in through the leg opening of the boxers. His lips enclosed the sac with a moist and hungry kiss, and Miles shifted with instinctive, shocked delight under the assault. He couldn’t have controlled his body’s reactions if his life had depended on it. He was close—so close!—and in twelve kinds of agony about coming like this, spread out at Zeke’s mercy, still fully clothed.
Zeke must have known the effect he was causing. It probably explained the ragged laughter from below.
“More.” Miles was startled to hear the strained plea, and in his own voice.
Zeke slipped a hand fully inside the opening of Miles’s pants, pulling the boxers to one side where Miles’s thigh met his groin. A drop of sweat trickled down the crease of skin, tickling Miles’s thigh. Zeke ran his fingers down as if trailing its path, and the touch made Miles shudder from head to foot.
“More, you said?”
Miles couldn’t speak coherently. He reckoned the shudder would have to be his answer.
Zeke wriggled a single digit in under the material, down between Miles’s legs and under his balls, up between the crack of his buttocks.
Miles clenched his muscles instinctively.
Zeke paused, his mouth still on Miles’s cock, but he tensed up. Miles shifted on the desktop, desperate for more attention.
Zeke’s hand darted up to Miles’s belly and pushed forcefully. Miles fell back with a gasp of breath. “Hey!”
But he got his wish regardless.
Zeke slid his mouth back over the head of Miles’s cock, moaning softly. The vibration ran all the way down to the base of Miles’s cock, and he groaned again. He couldn’t believe the thrill of Zeke’s mouth, sucking him off in his clothes, driving him to distraction even when he couldn’t feel those greedy lips on his bare skin. Zeke’s finger brushed over Miles’s entrance and Miles arched up again, gasping, the muscles flexing with an almost frightening need. Miles hadn’t been bottom in their lovemaking yet, and Zeke never showed any dissatisfaction with the balance of their sex life. But Miles felt a sudden stab of excitement and a fierce desire that had more to do with taking Zeke into him as deeply as possible and less to do with the nervousness of a new sexual adventure. Just maybe….
Then the tip of Zeke’s finger slipped into him, and Miles moaned even more loudly. It wasn’t really slick enough to go farther without discomfort, but Zeke seemed happy enough just to tease.
Miles was more than happy, stratospherically so. Take a letter to that effect. Miles was now hurtling toward climax.
He stretched out his arms on the desk beneath him. On the right side, his wrist reached the limit of its chain, the cabinet squeaking and the handcuffs rattling. On the other side, he gripped at a couple of the scattered papers, dragging his sweaty palm across them, knowing that the print would be smudged and the edges creased beyond repair. And not caring one tiny, damned, sensible bit. He pressed his shoulders back onto the tabletop and closed his eyes briefly. The desperate excitement encouraged him to force his hips from the desk, his legs tensing and his feet pushing him upward until he was touching the floor with his toes only.
And all the time, Zeke fingered Miles’s entrance and licked deeply along his cock. “Do what you’re told,” he muttered. “I’m in charge, right?” A rhetorical question, of course. Zeke sounded extremely breathless, and his movements were becoming more erratic.
Miles imagined that Zeke’s other hand had dropped to his lap, rubbing at his own erection, even while he sucked and savoured Miles’s.
“Come for me, Miles, baby.”
That was it!
Miles came, crying out and shaking with the thrill. He came in spurts, long and thick and hard, soaking the front of his boxers, swamping his groin with hot stickiness. His cock jerked against Zeke’s mouth and the vibration of Zeke’s happy laugh. Even as the bursts started to calm again, Zeke continued to lick, as if he could clean Miles from outside his clothes, as if he wanted to share the warmth and the taste.
There was no sound in the room for a few moments except for harsh panting. It amazed Miles to realize it was mostly his. He was conscious of Zeke shifting backward, still on his knees, but Miles didn’t think he’d ever move again. Muscles ached in places he’d never known he had. He was vaguely conscious of an ache in his bound wrist and the start of cramp in his left thigh. But he wasn’t complaining. Far from it. He relaxed back on the desk, his heart hammering, his cock still throbbing with aftershock.
Zeke got to his feet and stepped slowly away from the desk. Miles looked up at his flushed face. As he’d thought, Zeke had his own jeans undone and his hand was down the front, pumping himself. He had no underwear on to get in the way. Miles had watched him dress that morning, so he knew.
“You did, didn’t you?” Zeke’s eyes flickered nervously. “Like it?”
Miles nodded. God, yes. “You’re… amazing.” His gaze darted to Zeke’s groin and then back up to his face. “Make the most of it, you told me.”
“Huh?”
Miles smiled slowly. What a fantastic sight. Zeke’s hand moved up and down his cock, his breath shallow, his chest moving rapidly under his bright-colored vest. Miles found his lover’s mounting excitement intoxicating. “Relinquishing control. Being in bondage to you. I’m making the most of it. Right?”
“What… ever.” Zeke’s breath was getting even shorter. He pushed impatiently at the flies of his jeans, trying to get better access to his dick.
“Come closer and let me watch you come.” Miles’s voice sounded odd to his own ears, very hoarse. “Come over me, if you want.”
“If I want?” Zeke’s voice slipped up half an octave. “Shit, Miles.” He took a couple of stumbling steps back to the desk, standing once again between Miles’s outspread legs. He let his jeans slip down his thighs and his cock reared out from his groin, its wet, swollen head jerking in and out of the top of his fist. He pumped much faster now, panting loudly.
Miles couldn’t drag his eyes away. He watched with fierce determination, trying to see every drop of come as it welled from the slit, every bead of sweat that shone between Zeke’s clenched fingers.
“
Stop that,” Zeke hissed. “Watching me like that. Making me feel….”
“What?”
“You… oh fuck.” Zeke was moaning loudly now, slicking his cock, leaning over Miles’s torso. His free hand dropped to the desk beside Miles’s head, bracing himself with one arm, holding himself upright as his whole body shook. “I’m the one in fucking charge, remember?”
Miles smiled up into Zeke’s sweating face. Whatever, as Zeke himself would say. Miles moved his wrist gently, easing the ache of the cuff, listening to its chink against the cabinet, watching every stroke Zeke made, every shudder of his chest. “I must tell you….”
“What?”
“This time of night, there may be cleaning staff outside in the corridors.”
Zeke’s eyes widened, his expression bemused.
Miles gave a slight shrug, as best he could. “You know how loud you can be. They’ll hear you coming.”
Zeke gave a strangled groan. “And you know what I’m going to tell you.”
Miles raised an eyebrow.
“Too fucking right they will. And they’ll also find out who made me come, won’t they?”
“You mean,” Miles whispered, slyly. “They’ll catch us both.”
That seemed to be the final straw for Zeke. He climaxed with a loud cry, squeezing his cock with what looked like a too-painful grip. His come looped out of him, the thick stickiness splattering all over Miles’s bare chest. Miles felt stray drops of it on his throat, warm, viscous, strangely heavy. When he glanced down, he saw the puddle glistening on his chest hairs. It shivered as he swallowed, the edges catching the light.
“Oh God.” He sounded like someone else. Alien. Awed. His heart felt squeezed against his ribcage. He gazed up at Zeke who looked totally shocked. His eyes were barely in focus, and his body was still trembling.
“Miles,” he gasped. He grunted, shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and then his smile widened.
“Zeke,” Miles whispered back. If bliss ever needed a poster boy, there was Zeke Roswell. Miles lifted his free arm and curled it around Zeke’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. They clung there for a second or two, their tongues flickering around each other’s. Miles kissed Zeke’s jaw, his ear, anything he could reach. Zeke’s laughter bubbled like water. His arms were shaking as he tried to keep himself from falling on to the sticky mess on Miles’s chest.