“That Was a Bit Too Rough.”
Markus leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, chin raised defiantly. The man opposite him—tall, dark-haired, with a mouth that reminded him of a wolf—didn’t flinch. Only a muscle twitched in his jaw.
“You didn’t bring your numbers, Markus. It’s that simple.”
“My department made twelve percent more revenue last quarter than yours. Don’t lecture me about numbers.” Anger boiled inside him. This guy, this Lukas, always so damn superior. But tonight was different. They were alone in the executive office, the last meeting over, the secretary long gone. Outside, darkness fell; the single lamp above the conference table cast a warm glow on the scattered papers.
“You botched the presentation,” Lukas said softly, almost tenderly. “A disaster. The board wasn’t convinced.”
“Because you interrupted me. You always push yourself to the front.”
A smile. That smug, barely-there smile that drove Markus crazy. “Maybe I just want your attention.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and meaningless—or meaningful. Markus frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lukas stood up. A fluid movement, like a predator. He circled the table, step by step, until he stood right in front of Markus. The scent of black coffee and aftershave enveloped him. “I mean, we always argue about numbers and strategies. But never about what’s really between us.”
Markus’s heart raced. “And what’s that supposed to be?”
“You know exactly.” Lukas stayed close, the warmth of his body almost tangible. “I see it in your glances. In the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
“You’re crazy.” But Markus’s voice was hoarse, lacking conviction.
“Don’t pretend.” Lukas leaned down, his lips close to Markus’s ear. “I know you desire me.”
The shock hit like an electric jolt. Markus wanted to say something, but his throat was tight. Instead, he felt a hand on his shoulder, firm and warm. Fingers dug lightly into the fabric of his shirt.
Beneath the Surface
“You’re trembling,” Lukas noted.
“It’s cold in here,” Markus managed, the excuse hollow.
“Don’t lie.” Lukas’s fingers stroked his neck, under his collar. The touch was gentle but demanding, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I can feel your pulse. It’s racing like crazy.”
Markus closed his eyes. He couldn’t deny he’d wanted this. For months, they’d fought each other, every glance a challenge. But beneath the competition lurked something else, a thread of attraction he’d never dared to unravel.
“So what if it is,” he murmured. “What are you going to do?”
Lukas didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed Markus by the chin, turned his head. Then he kissed him. The kiss was surprising, hard and demanding. Markus felt the tongue pressing against his teeth and opened up. The taste of coffee and something sweet—maybe it was just the taste of desire. A hand slid into his hair, the other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.
Only when he ran out of air did Lukas let him go. Markus gasped and stared at him. “Damn it, Lukas…”
“Don’t say you didn’t want this too.”
“I…” He didn’t know what to say. But his body did. He stood up, swayed, and then pulled Lukas to him. This time, he kissed him first. He tasted the surprise that quickly turned into reciprocation. Their tongues met, a dance of power and surrender at once.
Lukas’s hands wandered lower, over his belt, down to his crotch. Markus flinched as the palm brushed over his erection, the pressure through the fabric electrifying. “Already so ready?” Lukas whispered, his voice rough, breath hot against his ear.
“Shut up,” Markus gasped, hurriedly unbuttoning his pants. The pressure was unbearable. He wanted more, wanted everything.
Crossing the Line
Lukas dropped to his knees. With practiced fingers, he pulled down Markus’s pants, taking the hard cock in his hand. Markus let out a soft moan. The first touch of the tongue was like a blow, a flash of pleasure shooting through his body. He gripped the edge of the table to keep from collapsing. Lukas’s mouth was hot and wet, tasting and sucking, his tongue playing around the head. He took him deep, all the way to the base, and Markus’s knees went weak.
“God, Lukas…”
Lukas didn’t relent, his rhythm demanding, greedy. Markus felt the tension building, but he didn’t want to come alone. “Wait…” he gasped, “I want you too.”
Lukas let go and stood up. His eyes were dark with desire, lips red and swollen. “Then take me.”
Markus turned him around and pressed him against the table. His shirt came open under Markus’s impatient hands, buttons popping. He caressed his back, his shoulders—skin that tasted of salt and muscle. Lukas’s pants fell to the floor, and Markus’s fingers found the lube in his jacket pocket—a leftover from last weekend he’d never used. Now was the moment.
He coated his fingers, then felt Lukas’s body open up. One finger, two, the soft moan that told him he was welcome. The tightness was breathtaking. “Come on,” Lukas urged, “I want to feel you.”
Markus positioned himself, the tip of his cock at the tight opening. He pushed in slowly, millimeter by millimeter, feeling every resistance and every give. Lukas’s inner sphincter gripped him like a fist. “So tight…” he breathed.
“More,” Lukas pressed, “fill me up completely.”
He obeyed. With a deep thrust, he slid in until his hips met Lukas’s ass. A shared sigh, a moment of perfect union. Then he began to move, slow, deep strokes. Each thrust was a confirmation—they were no longer rivals; they were now something much more intimate.
“Yes…” Lukas moaned, “just like that…”
Markus’s grip tightened. He pulled almost all the way out and thrust again, faster, harder. The table creaked under the rhythm of their bodies. He leaned over Lukas, whispering in his ear: “You’re mine now.”
“Yes, I’m yours…”
The words unleashed something in him. He increased the pace, the thrusts growing wilder. Lukas cried out softly as he tensed, his body trembling beneath him. Markus felt himself nearing the edge, but he paused for a moment. He wanted to see Lukas come first.
He reached around Lukas’s
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