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Sample Story: You're The Boss

The thing about Vince is he's not the most intimidating guy Jeff's ever been with. And okay, maybe this makes Jeff shallow, but Jeff's just a tiny bit sad about that. There are things Jeff likes about big, intimidating guys–things he doesn't know if he's ever going to get now that this thing with Vince is a full-time, honest-to-God relationship.

It's not like Jeff is settling, here; while it's true that neither one of them is getting any younger, Vince still has it where it counts. He's tall enough, dark hair, still pretty lean (which means Jeff has some incentive to go to the gym and watch what he eats, too), and maybe he isn't the best-looking guy Jeff's ever gone to bed with, but he's got gorgeous green eyes, dresses nice, and always looks put together. It's a far cry from Jeff's blond hair and the fact that he tends to wear his clothes until they have holes that border on indecent, but Vince has been working on that–new clothes keep turning up in Jeff's closet just of their own accord, and sure enough, they fit well and look pretty damn good on him.

And at first, Jeff figured that meant Vince was trying to civilize him. But no: whenever he's worried about that, worried that things are maybe a little too smooth, that they're getting a little too easy with each other, Vince'll unleash this grin that says about four hundred dirty things at once.

That grin is one of the best things about Vince. Vince is inventive. Jeff loves that, loves knowing that if he mentions something to Vince, a fantasy or an idle thought or just a new position he's been daydreaming about, Vince will find a way to make it happen. But there's a difference between being inventive and being the right guy for every fantasy in the book, and when it comes to being held down and snarled at and scared shitless, that's maybe not something Vince can do.

Or at least Jeff always figured he couldn't do it. But on a random Tuesday night, both of them halfway watching the Bulls game and halfway trying to distract each other from the game, Vince slips a hand onto the back of Jeff's neck and says, "You're holding out on me."

Jeff sits bolt upright and blinks at Vince; Vince wins the distraction game, no contest. "What?"

"You think I can't tell? Come on." Vince grins at him, and oh, shit, it's that grin, the one that's made Jeff squirm over and over since they got serious. "You've been getting this look on your face, this I-can't-have-that look. And that's bullshit; you can have anything you want. You just have to tell me what it is."

Jeff's face twists; he pulls away from Vince slightly, just enough to break contact. Having Vince's hand on the back of his neck makes it almost impossible to think straight. "Hey, that's nice, but–you already got me, you know? You don't have to try so hard."

Vince frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean it's not like we're dating these days. You don't have to impress me."

"Wait–we're living together, so that means we don't have to do anything special? It's just the same old handjob in the morning, blowjob before bed? Forever?"

Jeff shifts on the couch, squirming a little–and not in the good way, this time–at the irritated look on Vince's face. "Well, what–you don't like blowjobs all of a sudden?"

"I like blowjobs fine–"

"You got a problem with handjobs?"

"Jesus. No," Vince says, rolling his eyes. "But I've got no intention of letting things get stale with us, either. So when you have a look on your face that says there's something you want, and you don't think you can have it, I'm going to want to know what it is. Because there's a lot I can do. And besides…" Vince lowers his voice, lets it go deep and throaty and–fuck, Jeff ought to be getting whiplash between the weird sick worry that maybe he's just fucked something up and the way Vince is just taking everything in stride and bouncing from irritated to turned-on, but he's not. Or at least, his cock isn't conflicted at all when it comes to this conversation. Jeff's cock is getting hard just from that tone in Vince's voice, from the way Vince is looking at him right now–fuck five seconds ago, apparently.

Vince gives Jeff a second to catch up–he's good at gauging when Jeff needs it. When Jeff's brain stops whirling, he licks his lips, and Vince grins and keeps going. "Besides which, there's a lot I want to do that we haven't done yet. Maybe I'm asking because I wouldn't mind some help figuring out where to start."

Jeff takes a good, long breath; the way Vince is looking at him, the intense concentration on his face–he might not be an intimidating guy, but maybe… maybe.

"I have," Jeff says, and he has to clear his throat before he goes on. "I have this fantasy."

"Yeah?" Vince turns to face him, and he pushes Jeff back so Jeff's lying down on the couch, shoulders up against the arm. Jeff spreads his legs enough for Vince to lie between them, and Vince bends his head down so he can kiss Jeff–one brief brush of lips against lips before Vince pushes up and raises his eyebrows. "You have this fantasy…"

"About–being scared," Jeff breathes. He reaches up and wraps an arm around Vince's waist. "Being kind of–used."

"Roughed up?" Vince asks, one eyebrow arching.

Jeff shakes his head. "No, nothing like–not, like, getting hurt on purpose, not getting beat up or anything. Just… maybe I pissed off the wrong guy, maybe I get backed into a wall and he tells me he's going to teach me a lesson." Jeff licks his lips. "Maybe I fight back."

"Yeah," Vince murmurs. He reaches up and pulls Jeff's arms up above his head, holds them with one of his own while he works a hand down between them. Jeff gasps; it's not like he was expecting Vince to say no, but he wasn't expecting that kind of response. "Maybe you fight a little. Maybe you like to say a whole hell of a lot of no before you say yes."

"Oh, fuck, yeah," Jeff moans, rolling his hips, trying to give Vince better access. "Yeah, that's–c'mon, quit fucking around and touch me…"

Vince has to let Jeff's wrists go in order to hold himself up, but Jeff knows where this is going–he isn't going to complain. Jeff keeps his wrists above his head on his own and closes his eyes, already starting to breathe a little harder.

"Do I have a problem with handjobs," Vince snorts. He gets Jeff's belt undone one-handed and pops the button on Jeff's jeans. "I don't have a problem with any of the stuff you want; when are you going to figure that out?"

Jeff can feel his face heating; he licks his lips as Vince tugs his zipper down and slips his hand into Jeff's fly. "Didn't… think you'd have a problem with it," he says. Vince gets his hand into Jeff's boxers, and Jeff groans as Vince draws his cock out–oh, fuck, now it's out, and Christ that's better than being trapped in his jeans. Vince gives him a few long strokes, and Jeff exhales softly. "Yeah, yeah…"

Vince settles back down on top of Jeff, nuzzling at Jeff's throat. Jeff groans and tilts his head back, lets Vince breathe out hot and soft against his skin. "Didn't think I could do it, though, did you?" Vince murmurs. He rubs his cheek against the side of Jeff's neck, stubble scratching lightly against stubble. "Didn't think I could make you give it up?"

He's still working Jeff's cock, even though there's only a few inches of room to do it. It doesn't matter. He's stroking all the right spots, and Jeff gasps and squirms underneath him and keeps his eyes closed while Vince pants out hot and soft against his neck.

"Give it up," Vince murmurs. "Come on. Show me how much you love this."

"Think I'm–" It's getting harder and harder to talk. Jeff's leaking now, a slick streak of precome making Vince's strokes that much smoother, and Jeff turns his head to the side so Vince can keep kissing his neck, maybe even lick or bite if Jeff gets really lucky. "Think I'm… that… easy?"

It's like a miracle: Vince does bite down, teeth sinking into the side of Jeff's neck. It's not too hard, barely enough to hurt, but it's not about the pain this time–it's about Vince staking a claim. Being in charge.

"You're as easy as I want you to be," Vince growls, and Jeff gasps, jerking in Vince's hand, orgasm blindsiding him as Vince's fingers keep moving, as Vince licks over the spot he just bit.

"Fuck," Jeff moans, collapsing under Vince. "Fuck. Yeah."

Vince rears back, and of course the first thing he does is check out his clothes to see how messy they are. He grimaces–the pants, strangely enough, are okay, but his shirt's a mess. "Another one for the dry cleaners," Vince says, and he wipes his hand off on Jeff's t-shirt before stripping out of his shirt and checking out the spots.

Jeff smirks up at him. "Sorry."

"Liar."

"Yeah, okay, that's a lie. You started it."

Vince grins and finally tosses the shirt over the back of the couch. "Yeah, I did. But the real question is: do you want me to start it again some other time? For real?"

Jeff shivers and nods. "If you're up for it."

"I'm up for a lot," Vince says softly, climbing off the sofa, off Jeff. "Right now I'd be up for you giving me a hand with something, too…"

Jeff eyes Vince's crotch and licks his lips. "Just a hand?"

"Come on." Vince offers Jeff a hand and helps him off the couch. "How about in bed and naked this time?"

"I think I can live with that," Jeff says, and he follows Vince to the bedroom.


It's a few days before the topic comes up again, but Jeff catches Vince looking at him from time to time. It's this cool look, this calculating look, something that sends a shiver up Jeff's spine. Sometimes when Jeff catches him at it, Vince just raises an eyebrow and looks away. Other times Vince holds that look, and Jeff squirms and thinks about sliding onto his knees.

It never occurred to Jeff that the fantasy might fail not because Vince can't pull it off, but because Jeff isn't going to be able to hold onto his 'no' for very long. But when Vince looks at him like that, Jeff's not thinking about fighting him. He's thinking about the way Vince said You're as easy as I want you to be. Because, yeah, okay, with that growl and with that look on Vince's face? Vince could say "kneel" and Jeff would just say "how low?"

They're heading to bed one night, teeth brushed and everything, when Vince stops in the doorway to the bedroom and says, "I've been thinking."

Jeff sits upright in bed and raises both eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"About the thing we talked about Tuesday. You maybe wanting to get scared."

"Yeah, about that…" Jeff scratches at the back of his neck. "You're still up for that?"

"I am if you are," Vince says. "I've been thinking about it a lot."

"No, really?" Jeff snorts. "Sometimes I can tell, you know."

"Yeah, I do know, and I've been thinking about how to do it." Vince crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the doorframe. "The thing is, you were probably right about me."

Jeff's face falls. "Oh."

"No, I don't mean–I'm not trying to say we shouldn't do it. I just think we need to have a better idea of how it's going to go. And I don't think I'm the kind of guy who'd just drag you into a dark alley, you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I get that," Jeff says, but he's still trying not to be too disappointed, trying not to think game over, no fantasy for you. "So–but you said you're still up for it?"

"Uh-huh. But I think it's going to have to be a little different. How do you feel about getting blackmailed?"

Jeff's pretty sure his hair's standing on end, he's so turned on; his cock almost hurts from how fast he got hard. "I, ah. You." He licks his lips. "How's that–uh, how's that gonna work?"

Vince grins and scratches at his cheek; Jeff calms down a little when he sees that, because he knows a nervous, I didn't know if you were gonna go for this look when he sees one. The cheek-scratching and shy little grin are both dead giveaways. "Well, I've been coming up with a few different ideas."

"Is that why you've been taking so long in the shower this week?"

Vince coughs and looks down at the floor. "Maybe," he mumbles. "But I thought… there's a lot of ways we could play it. Maybe I'm your boss and I catch you doing something you shouldn't be."

"Surfing gay porn sites on company time?" Jeff asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah, that's one thought."

One thought–God, there are others. It's starting to occur to Jeff just how much thought Vince has been putting into this, all teasing aside. "We could set it up in the dining room," Jeff says. "I've got some porn on my laptop."

"And I come up behind you while you're beating off–"

"And then later you call me into your office."

"End of the day. Everybody else is already gone." Vince smiles. "You're not about to blow the boss, so you tell me I can fire you or whatever, but–"

"I turn around and I'm heading out the door, and that's when you–"

"Yeah." Vince lets out a low, soft breath. Jeff's not the only one in this room who's hard just thinking about it; Vince's cock is making his boxers tent out in front. Jeff grins. "I don't know, maybe we skip the part where you're beating off, maybe we just pick up from that conversation in my office."

"Works for me." Jeff tilts his head, gesturing over at the bed. "You coming to bed or what?"

Vince laughs and heads for the bed, shucking his undershirt and boxers before he gets under the covers. He stretches out and presses himself up against Jeff's side, and Jeff turns so his back's up against Vince's front, so Vince can rub his cock up against Jeff's ass. "Yeah," Vince murmurs, low and deep, pressing a kiss to the back of Jeff's neck. "You know how hot you'd be? Pretending you weren't loving every second of it?"

"Fuck, yeah…" Jeff reaches back, takes Vince's hand and slides it over his cock. Vince squeezes hard, almost too hard. Jeff gasps and rocks his hips back. "But maybe I had a thing for the boss all along. I just didn't want it to look like–"

"Like you were sleeping your way to the top?"

Jeff laughs. "Yeah, something like that."

"So I'm just finally giving you what you wanted all this time." Vince bites down lightly on the side of Jeff's neck. "Giving you what you need."

"Hell, yeah," Jeff says. He's rocking his hips back again, getting a little more insistent–pushy, even. "You could maybe ask me if I'm into it–"

"And keep asking until you stop saying 'no' and start begging me to do you harder?"

Jeff just groans. He manages to nod, but between Vince's hand on his cock and Vince's cock against his ass, he's starting to wish he was up against that wall right now, with Vince working his belt open and then pushing his pants and boxers down around his knees.

On the other hand, they're both naked right now; there's nothing in their way. Jeff scoots forward until he can reach the nightstand, and he grabs out a condom and a half-used tube of lube.

"Oh, did you want something?" When Jeff turns to look, Vince has an evil grin on his face. He looks pointedly at the condom and lube and raises an eyebrow. "Did you want to ask for something?"

Jeff's face heats; he can feel the warmth from his neck to his hairline. "Did you–did you want me to ask?"

Vince growls under his breath and shoves Jeff onto his back. "You know, I did, but damn–do you know how hot you are when you blush?"

Jeff rolls his eyes. "Whatever–"

"I'm not kidding." Vince grabs the condom out of Jeff's hand and tears it open; Jeff hands over the lube once Vince has the condom on. "It's like you can't help wanting things–"

"Yeah, that's–that's pretty much it," Jeff says, still blushing, God, and when Vince slides his fingers into Jeff's ass, Jeff just groans and spreads his legs wider. "Come on, please, please–"

"Right here," Vince whispers, and then he is: he presses into Jeff, stretching out on Jeff's body, and Jeff gasps out loud and gets his arms around Vince's shoulders. "God, right here, that's it, c'mon…"

"Yeah," Jeff growls. And–God, what the hell, he's already blushing, he can ask for things. He can ask for anything he damn well wants; it's okay if he's blushing, it's okay if Vince knows how much he wants things. "Vince–talk to me–"

"Talk–" Vince lifts himself up just far enough he can see Jeff's face. There's a split-second of confusion, but then he says, "Oh," and he grins, hot and wicked, licking his lips. "You want to know how good this feels?"

"Yeah…"

"How hot you are? How good it feels being deep inside you?"

"Fuck. Yeah," Jeff moans. "Come on, please…"

Vince bends his head down and licks the curve of Jeff's ear. "How good you feel when you're lying here under me and I'm just fucking giving it to you, and you're so tight and so–Christ, slick, and it's like your whole body's opening up for me, begging me to take whatever I want–"

"Oh fuck," Jeff pants, clutching at Vince's shoulders. "Yeah, just–just harder, harder, faster–"

Vince grabs Jeff by the arm and pins his left arm down against the bed; he lifts himself up a little higher and gets braced so he can do just that. Jeff lets his right arm slip down to Vince's waist, and then he grins, just a little, and grabs Vince's ass. Vince grunts softly, pulls back, and drives in hard, almost pushing Jeff up against the headboard.

"Yes," Jeff pants. "Again, c'mon–"

"You are so goddamned hot," Vince gasps. "Just–taking it and–" He drives in again; Jeff cries out, grabs Vince's ass and pulls him in tighter. "Taking it, fuck, and then you tell me to do it again–"

"Come on, make me," Jeff says, tugging on Vince's ass, shoving his hips up as much as he can. "Make me take it for you, make me–"

Vince's fingers tighten on Jeff's arm, and he doesn't hold anything back now; he just drives in, again and again, fucking Jeff hard enough Jeff has to take his hand off Vince's ass and brace himself against the headboard so his head doesn't go knocking into the thing. Jeff's meeting him thrust for thrust, though, wanting more, needing more, and when Vince finally takes his hand off Jeff's arm and says, "Beat off, right now," Jeff doesn't need to hear it twice. He squeezes his cock hard, strokes it in rhythm with Vince's thrusts, and then he's there, up and over, coming with a gasp and streaking his stomach and chest with it.

He's dazed afterwards, dazed enough he's only just barely aware of Vince above him, Vince whispering at him–you look so good, you look so hot, Christ, I love it when you come like that–and then it's Vince's turn, and Vince drives in for those last few pounding strokes and then comes with a gasp, collapsing onto Jeff's chest. He gasps for breath, and Jeff puts a hand on his back, feeling the rise and fall and taking long, slow breaths himself as they both come down.

"We're doing this," Vince murmurs, later. "We are so doing this."

Jeff kisses him just above the ear, the only place he can reach. "Just say when."


A week or so later, Jeff wakes up alone. That part's not a big surprise; Vince is always up first, because Vince is a god among men and can work a coffee machine–even a fancy one like the one Vince insisted they needed–at unholy hours of the morning. Jeff's lucky if he can make it from the bedroom to the bathroom without running into walls.

He rolls over and glances at the nightstand to see what time it is. Which is when he realizes that it's Saturday, and he doesn't have to care what time it is. He sinks back into bed, listening for the drip from the coffee machine, and soon enough the scent of fresh-ground beans and hot black coffee starts drifting in from the kitchen.

That gets him halfway to waking up, but when he notices the note propped up on his alarm clock, he comes awake the rest of the way. He reaches over, pulling it closer so he can squint at it.

The front just reads:

WHEN

He flips it around and takes a look at the back, which reads:

How about today? Does 3:00 work for you?

He's still staring down at the card when Vince comes in with the coffee. Vince hands over Jeff's mug, and Jeff takes it automatically, not even looking at Vince. Vince laughs. "I guess I got your attention."

"I–yeah," Jeff says. He puts the card down, wraps both hands around his mug, and takes a long, slow drink. It's just the way he likes it, a good, rich, deep, dark roast with just enough sugar to knock the edge off, and Jeff looks up at Vince. "You gotta hit me over the head with something, 'cause I'm about ready to start singing love songs and saying sappy things."

"Knock yourself out," Vince says, grinning. He slides onto the bed and takes a drink of his coffee, too. "So. You think?" He nods at the card.

"You're going to make me wait until three?"

"Gives us time to iron out any details that need ironing." He pauses. "For that matter, any clothes that need ironing. When was the last time you wore your suit?"

"Hey, my suit's fine. Still in the bag from the cleaners."

Vince makes a little tch sound, and Jeff manages to roll his eyes while drinking more coffee. It's an important skill to have in this relationship. "Probably good to go, then," Vince agrees. "And you don't have to wear the whole suit, but at least wear a tie. Please? For me?"

"You probably just want something to grab onto," Jeff mutters into his coffee. When Vince doesn't respond, Jeff looks up at him. This time Vince is–well, he's not blushing, exactly, but he licks his lips and won't meet Jeff's eyes for a second. "Is that it? You want something to hold onto?"

"Yeah, partly," Vince admits. "That's not a bad thing, right?"

"Oh, hell, no." Jeff grins. "Any other requests?"

"Well, I was thinking–should we have you lube up first so I don't have to break the mood and do it in the moment? Or do you want me to do it while I have you pinned to the wall?"

Jeff takes a second to think that one over. "I think I'd rather have you do it in the moment."

"Okay. So we might want to go shopping, then, because I want to grab a couple of one-use lube capsules. I really don't want to be carrying a whole bottle of something in my pants."

"Fair enough," Jeff says, grinning. "I mean, your pants are probably gonna be pretty full as it is."

Vince rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "How about you? Any kind of props you'd like me to use?"

"Are you thinking you might want to tie me up? Or gag me? Because if so, we'll both have ties and belts, but you might want to wear something that didn't cost a week's salary."

"Oh, believe me, I'm wearing one of your ties for this. And I mean one of the ties you came with, not one of the ties I bought you."

Jeff mock-scowls at him. "Thanks a lot."

"You still have ties you bought in the early nineties!"

"Hey, ties shaped like guitars never go out of style."

"If you're David Lee Roth, that is maybe true," Vince says. "Fortunately for me, you're you."

"That's actually kinda sweet," Jeff says. "So are you going out on your own, or do you want me to go to the store with you?"

"I can handle it."

"Okay, so while you're out I'll get the bedroom picked up–we're doing this in the bedroom, right?"

"Yeah, I kinda figured I was going to be fucking you up against a door. But if you want to pretend I'm fucking you over a desk, we could do it in the dining room or something–"

"The, ah." Jeff has to clear his throat. "The door sounds good."

Vince smiles at him; God, the man's got a good smile. Every time he looks at Jeff that way, Jeff has to wonder why it took them so long to get serious about each other. "Okay, then," Vince says softly. "So I'm going to take a shower, and go shopping, and I'll see you when I get back."

"Sounds good."

Vince leaves the rest of his coffee on the nightstand when he goes off to take his shower, and after Jeff's finished his own, he looks over at Vince's. Vince tends to add too much cream, but that's still coffee over there, and it's not like Vince is going to drink it–it'll be cold by the time he gets out of the shower. Jeff takes Vince's mug and settles back in bed, grinning to himself over his stolen goods, sipping the rest of Vince's coffee and hoping the rest of the day passes quickly.


Vince is gone for a while; he gets back home just before lunch, and he brings sandwiches from the little shop they both like, the one they rarely get to because it's halfway across town. Jeff beams at him when he puts the sandwiches out on the table, and heads for the kitchen to grab a couple of sodas out of the fridge.

"Get everything you were looking for?" Jeff asks, once he's back at the table.

Vince nods. "I'm all set, except for needing a shower and some time to get dressed."

"Me, too." Jeff looks across the table and checks Vince's watch. "You sure you don't want to get started early?"

"I could be talked into starting early," Vince says. He grins. "Not that you're eager to do this or anything…"

Jeff pauses with his sandwich halfway to his mouth and looks at Vince, frowning. "Well, hey, it's not just me, right?"

"What–hell, no, it's not just you." Vince shakes his head. "Are you kidding me? I've spent the last week thinking about all the things I want to say to you when we get started."

"Oh, yeah?" Jeff grins, relaxing again. "Like what?"

This time it's Vince who has to put his sandwich down; Vince looks nervous for a second. "You know what, maybe I should talk to you about that, because I don't want to call you the wrong name and end up pissing you off."

"Won't be a problem," Jeff mumbles around his sandwich. "Good with anything."

"Office slut? Boss's whore? My own personal little fucktoy?"

Jeff almost chokes on his sandwich at that last one. "Okay," he says, pausing to take a drink, "okay, I might laugh if you call me your own personal little fucktoy, but you're not going to say anything that bothers me."

"But if I did–"

"If you did, I'd let you know. Okay?"

"Yeah." Vince nods. "Yeah, okay. And, you know, if you want to stop, just say that, too. I mean, I'm not going to gag you or anything."

"Aw." Jeff sighs. "I was kinda hoping…"

"I mean, yeah, it'd be kind of hot, but we've never done this before. I want to be able to hear you if you need something."

"Fair enough." Jeff pauses. "So does that mean you think you'd be willing to do this again?"

"If it goes well? Hell, yes, I'd do it again."

Jeff grins. "Okay. Well–finish lunch, already."

"And here I thought I was in charge."

"Oh, trust me, you'll get to be in charge once we get started." Jeff goes back to eating for a while before pausing and raising an eyebrow. "What should I call you?"

"Hm?"

"Not 'Vince', I'm assuming. 'Mr. Lorenzi'?"

"Calling me 'Mr. Lorenzi' while I'm fucking you isn't going to make you crack up just as hard as 'fucktoy'?"

"Well, I'm probably not going to get out any three-syllable words while you're fucking me," Jeff says, rolling his eyes. "But to get started…"

"That's fine, then. You can call me 'Mr. Lorenzi' if you want." Vince grins. "Actually, it might be kind of hot."

"I aim to please."

"I might ask for 'boss' after a while."

"Yeah, that makes sense. 'Sir' would work, too."

"Yeah." Vince puts what's left of his sandwich down and licks his lips. "You know what, you're right. Maybe we don't have to wait until three."

Jeff's got maybe three bites left of his sandwich, and he more or less inhales them, still chewing while he helps clear the table. Vince doesn't say a word about it; he wipes down the table, washes his hands, and glances over at Jeff, grinning the whole time.


It takes Jeff four tries to get his tie–not the Flying V guitar tie, though it does have the Fender logo printed all over it; Jeff thinks it came with one of his guitars–done up properly. He'd totally forgotten the fact that Vince usually helps out with this. Vince knows all the different fancy knots and has always been willing to stand behind Jeff, the two of them in front of a mirror, and get Jeff started. For this, though, he doesn't want Vince to see him until they're ready to go–for that matter, he doesn't want to see Vince until they're ready to go.

So Jeff's in the bathroom working on his tie, and Vince is in the bedroom, probably dressed and ready, probably wondering what the hell's taking Jeff so long.

Jeff stares at his reflection, at how crooked his tie is, and sighs. "Fuck it," he mutters, and he leaves the tie loose, undoes the top button on his shirt, and rolls up his shirtsleeves. It's the end of the day, he decides; Vince is going to be criticizing him for being too informal around the office anyway. He doesn't have to look perfect.

He leaves his jacket hanging on the back of the bathroom door and heads to the bedroom. The door's closed, so Jeff knocks.

And here we go, he thinks. "Mr., ah, Mr. Lorenzi? You wanted to see me?"

The door opens, but Vince has his cell phone out; he barely even looks at Jeff. Jeff blinks at him in shock for a few seconds, but Vince gestures him inside, impatiently, and barks at his cell phone, "So you get it for me. God, I work with idiots." He gives Jeff an appraising look and then says, "My one o'clock's here. Cancel everything for the rest of the day, clear out the floor, standard security, blue. Yeah, now. Now." He makes a show of hanging up his cell phone, which Jeff has come to realize was never actually on in the first place, and tosses it onto the nightstand. "So. Mr. Mitchell. You're late."

A whole rush of things are going through Jeff's mind, such as: Christ, he is wearing one of my ties, but at least it's one of the ones with a thousand little tiny devils on it and not the guitar tie; he doesn't think he could have kept a straight face if it'd been the guitar tie. Then clear out the floor? and escort security? and Mr. Mitchell? Not just Jeff?, but he grabs hold of one of those whirling thoughts and ends up saying, "Late?"

"Yeah, late–you were supposed to be here at one."

Jeff checks his watch. One-eighteen. Talk about stacking the deck against him; the fact that it happens to be one-eighteen means that it's one-eighteen in the fantasy, huh? So okay–he's late. He smirks a little. If Vince is going to be playing this one like everything Jeff does is wrong, Jeff can work with that. "Uh. Sorry?"

"You know what, don't bother–" Vince waves him off. "Don't bother telling me you're sorry if you're not sorry. I don't need to hear anything out of you that isn't true down to your fucking bones."

Jeff shivers a little; he wonders how well 'Mr. Lorenzi' and 'Mr. Mitchell' know each other. True down to your fucking bones–well, he'll be giving 'Mr. Lorenzi' a lot of truth, if this fantasy goes the way Jeff hopes it will. "All right," Jeff says quietly. "What did you want to see me about, sir?"

"How about this, for one," Vince says, stepping close and reaching out for Jeff's tie. Jeff grunts–wow, okay, hard already, that didn't take long–but Vince isn't dragging him around or anything. He's just cinching up the knot, then sighing and loosening it again, buttoning up Jeff's top button, and finally tightening Jeff's tie into place. "You know damn well that if you work for me, I expect you to live up to certain standards."

Jeff crosses his arms over his chest; Vince hasn't picked on him for his sleeves yet, but he wants to make sure Vince gets a look at them in case that's where he's going next with this. Getting him all dressed and tidy before getting him undressed and decidedly less than tidy sounds like something Vince might enjoy.

But when Vince doesn't bite right away, Jeff decides it's probably his turn to talk. "Is that all? You brought me in here to make sure my tie's done up right?"

"No. No, that's not all. Take a seat."

There's nowhere to sit in here but the bed, so Jeff gamely sits down on that, pretending it's a chair for the moment. Vince leans back against the dresser and looks Jeff over.

"You're aware that your internet traffic is monitored."

Jeff's eyes go a little wide. "My–what?"

"And while I can't fault your taste in entertainment choices, I have to say–there are better places for it than work."

Can't fault your entertainment choices? Jeff blinks at Vince a few times. "I don't, ah–I don't know what you're talking about."

"DickLongsteele.com, HardAndBound.com, JuicyBoyz.com–are any of these ringing a bell?"

Jeff can feel the blush starting already. He wonders if Vince dug into the porn downloads directory on his laptop for this or if he was just guessing at the kinds of sites Jeff likes; those are all in the top ten.

And right now he kind of feels like apologizing, like groveling, but that is not what they planned, so he struggles for a little bit of righteous outrage. "You've been spying on my computer? That is–that's–"

"It's a company computer," Vince replies, "and you should really know better."

"I–"

Everything Jeff was thinking gets derailed when Vince shifts his weight a little, and then, as Jeff watches, slides a hand down his thigh and then slowly, slowly, starts sliding his fingertips gently up the length of his cock. Jeff shivers, licks his lips, but–no. No, the word of the day is supposed to be no, and he frowns up at Vince, outrage coming a little more easily. "What the hell are you doing?" Jeff growls.

"I'm thinking you need this job," Vince murmurs. "And given what you're apparently into, I think we can work out a way for you to keep it."

Jeff launches himself off the bed. "No fucking way, man–no. I don't need the job that badly."

"So you're telling me you don't have bills to pay. You don't have credit cards that are all maxed out–probably from all the porno sites you belong to. I'm guessing we only found about half of them, but believe me, my IT guys are still looking." Vince raises an eyebrow. "You aren't still paying off that fancy car you drive?"

Jeff almost snorts; he hasn't had a car payment in three years, and his pickup is nothing anyone in their right mind would consider fancy. But okay, maybe the guy he's playing is living a little bit above his means; it's not like Jeff hasn't salivated over Audi ads right in front of Vince. It's actually a pretty nice detail. Vince really has put some thought into this.

"I can get another job."

"Yeah, because your references before you got this one were stellar," Vince says, rolling his eyes. "And when people call us up to ask about you, they're not going to mind one bit that you have a history of watching gay porn at work."

He strokes his fingertips over his cock again, this time with a little more intent. This time, his eyes are on Jeff the whole time, and when Jeff's breath stutters and he can't help licking his lips, Vince chuckles.

"Come on," Vince murmurs. "We both know how bad you need it. If you didn't need the job, you wouldn't be here, and if you didn't need–" He strokes his cock one more time. "–then you wouldn't be watching porn at work. You don't think I'm going to hold being a complete fucking slut against you, do you?"

Jeff's knees go a little weak at complete fucking slut, at the way Vince said it so easily, like he was just casually describing someone in totally family-friendly terms. "Mr. Lorenzi–"

"Because I'm not. I'm not. You're just going to be my complete fucking slut, that's all. Unless you want to be thrown out on your ass, and you want everyone to know why."

Dignity, Jeff thinks. Show him you've got a little dignity left. "That's not going to happen," Jeff says. "I'll take my chances. So if you're done here, I'll go clear out my desk."

He turns to leave, bracing himself, taking it slow so Vince can catch up to him. Sure enough, just as he's stretching out his hand for the doorknob, Vince reaches out and grabs Jeff by the wrist.

"Did I say we were done here?"

"I don't think we have anything left to talk about." Jeff keeps his eyes on the door, forces himself not to look at Vince. "Whatever it is you want, you're not getting it from me."

"Oh, yeah?" Vince keeps his hand on Jeff's wrist, and he pulls it carefully behind Jeff's back. Jeff could struggle, could yell for help, but he knows–and he's guessing Vince knows–that he isn't going to.

Vince presses Jeff into the door, all smoothness and ease, like he's helping Jeff into a seat at, who knows, the theater or something. But Jeff winds up with his chest pressed against the door, his cheek up against it, too, and Vince's hand on his wrist makes it clear that he's not letting Jeff go anywhere.

"Hey," Jeff whispers. "I–hey. What do you think you're doing?"

Vince comes up close behind him, puts his lips at Jeff's ear. Jeff almost moans as he feels Vince's body heat up against him; Vince has him trapped, all right. And it's not the kind of rough manhandling Jeff used to go after; it's smooth and simple and, in the fantasy, every bit as scary and thrilling as being shoved here with force.

"I think I'm going to do anything I want," Vince breathes. "And I think if you don't want to lose your job, you're going to let me."

"Hey, no–are you crazy?" Jeff squirms, rocking his shoulders as if he's trying to get Vince to let him go.

Vince leans in again, a little harder this time. Jeff would have to fight a lot more to get free; Vince has a serious grip on him. "I'm not crazy. Trust me, you're going to love this." Vince slides his other hand down Jeff's side, settling it on his hip. "I bet you're already loving this. And you're going to be begging me for it by the time I'm through with you."

"Fuck you."

"My thoughts exactly."

Vince pulls him just a few inches away from the door, one hand still holding Jeff's wrist behind his back. The other hand slides in front of him, and Jeff looks down so he can watch this: Vince unbuckling his belt one-handed, undoing the hook and button in the front of his suit pants and then sliding the zipper all the way down. He tugs Jeff's shirt out of his waistband and slips his hand underneath, flattening it out against Jeff's lower belly. Vince's hand is warm enough to make Jeff moan out loud; he wants Vince's hand under the waistband of his boxers, wants to feel the heat from Vince's hand all around his cock.

He's not supposed to be that easy, though, so he squirms in Vince's grip. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you can't just–"

Vince tucks his chin over Jeff's shoulder and squeezes Jeff's wrist hard. "No. You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do. I'm telling you that. And right now, you can hold still and take what I feel like giving you, because you can't go anywhere. The floor's clear, security's here to drag you back here on your knees if you get away–" Standard security, blue, Jeff remembers. That was a nice touch. "–and besides which…" He slides his hand down–Christ, yes–under Jeff's waistband, under his boxers, and he gets Jeff's dick in his hand and squeezes hard. Jeff gasps again, sagging forward against the door, resting his forehead against it as he pants. "Besides which, you don't want to go anywhere. You want this. So stop lying to me and stop lying to yourself and spread your fucking legs, because this is happening. Right here. Right now." Vince presses his lips to the back of Jeff's neck, and Jeff moans all over again.

He stands still as Vince lifts his wrist and sets it on the door, next to his head; Vince does the same thing with Jeff's other hand. Jeff presses both of his palms flat against the wood, and when Vince kicks his legs apart, he goes with it. "Better," Vince murmurs. "Funny thing–it looks to me like you've done this before."

"Let my boss blackmail me into giving him my ass? Not hardly."

Vince snorts. "Funny guy," he says, reaching up and twisting his fingers into Jeff's hair. He tugs Jeff's head back a little; Jeff doesn't let his hands come off the door. "I mean this isn't your first time getting fucked," he says. "You'd bend over for anybody who wants a piece, wouldn't you?"

Jeff gasps and swallows, trying to keep himself from begging. It's a little early for that. "You can… think whatever you want," he whispers.

"Oh, I can think whatever I want," Vince says; Jeff can hear the mocking tone in his voice. "Nice of you to give me permission to think you're going to make a perfect little office whore. Because what your body's telling me doesn't have anything to do with it."

He reaches out for Jeff's hips and shoves Jeff's pants and boxers down to his knees, and Jeff grunts; in spite of the fact that it's just the two of them in this room, in the whole apartment, he feels exposed. Vulnerable.

And when Vince slides his hands up Jeff's ass and slips his thumbs into the cleft of Jeff's ass, that vulnerable feeling skyrockets, and Jeff's heart starts pounding. "Please," Jeff whispers.

"Please, huh?" Vince takes one hand away, but his other thumb stays right where it is, holding Jeff open. "Please what?"

"Please don't–"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Vince says–and God, it's low and calm but forceful; Vince's voice alone would be enough to glue Jeff to this wall. "Please, who?"

"Please–Mr. Lorenzi," Jeff whispers.

"Nah," Vince murmurs. He leans in and licks the side of Jeff's neck, and then grazes it just the slightest bit with his teeth. "You can call me 'boss'."

There it is. Jeff thought it was going to feel weird, but it doesn't, not really. "Please, boss," he whispers. "Please don't–"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Vince says–still calm and slow and totally in charge. "This is going to happen." He presses another soft kiss to the side of Jeff's neck. "So maybe you should think about begging for things you can actually get."

"I–I don't know–"

"'Boss, I don't know…'"

Oh, shit, he was serious about the name thing. Jeff swallows. "Boss–I don't know what to beg for–"

Vince chuckles. "Well, for one thing, you can beg for this." He reaches up with his free hand and holds a lube capsule near Jeff's face; Jeff spots it out of the corner of his eye and swallows. "Unless you'd rather get fucked with nothing but spit and what's on the rubber."

"Holy shit," Jeff says, and there, right there, he's not acting. Vince sounds serious, and Jeff's not the kind of guy who likes getting ripped into when he gets fucked; he's not real sure what's in that little capsule is going to be enough to keep this from hurting like hell.

But the fear of getting hurt is just making his dick harder, and he closes his eyes and nods, spreading his legs a little wider–about as wide as they'll go with his pants at his knees. "Please," he whispers.

"Please who?"

"Please, boss–if you're going to fuck me, please at least let me have the lube–"

"Christ," Vince moans. He rests his head against Jeff's shoulder, and Jeff has a feeling that's not acting, either. "Christ, Jeff, you're so–" Vince swallows and takes a deep breath, and when he starts talking again, he's back in character. "You are such a hot fucking whore," he growls. "I'm going to make you beg for it every night, you hear me? You're going to stand here or you're going to be bent over my desk and you're going to say, 'Please, boss, give it to me,' and if it's not enough, if your tight little ass needs more, you're going to say, 'Please, boss, fuck me harder'–"

Oh, God, that's all Jeff can stand. "Yes," Jeff gasps, "please, please, boss, fuck me, fuck me–"

"Hell, yes, I'm going to fuck you–" There's a pause, and Vince steps away to drop his pants and get the condom on. Jeff settles in, crossing his arms in front of him so he's got something to rest his head against.

And then Vince's fingers are at his hole, and he's sliding them in, nice and smooth. "Fuck," Vince gasps. "Your ass is just begging for this, you know that?"

Jeff does. He's opening up like he's been ready all day–which he has been, damn it. "Do it," Jeff groans. "Do it, please–"

"Boss," Vince pants.

"Boss," Jeff whispers. "Please fuck me, boss–"

"Oh, yeah," Vince growls, and he puts one heavy hand on the back of Jeff's neck and shoves in, rough and deep, slamming Jeff into the door and making Jeff choke off a yell.

"Fuck, that's good," Jeff moans. "More, more, please, Vince–"

"Hell, yeah, you're gonna get more," Vince says, and he puts actions to words, driving in with fast, heavy strokes, pounding Jeff until Jeff's got to push back with his arms or risk having his face flattened against the door. Vince slips his hands down to Jeff's hips and starts dragging Jeff back, and that's fine by Jeff; he's pushing back hard to take every inch Vince wants to give him, and Vince isn't holding anything back.

"Mine," Vince growls. Whether that's in character or not, Jeff doesn't really care; it's true either way. He reaches back and puts a hand over Vince's, and Vince gasps, thrusts going all erratic and uneven–he's close, has to be close, and Jeff wonders how long he'll last. How long either of them are going to last–he's not exactly far away from coming himself.

"Vince," Jeff pants, "Vince, c'mon, let me–can I–" He shoves back hard. "Come on, give me a hand here–"

Vince gets an arm around Jeff's stomach, pulling Jeff tight against him. "Who says," he whispers. "Who says you get a hand, huh? I bet you can come like this, I bet you can come just like this without me even touching you–"

"Please," Jeff moans. He probably can–with Vince growling into his ear like that, he almost certainly can–but it won't be as good without Vince's hand on him, without Vince making him come, and he turns his head partway around so he can try to rub his cheek against Vince's. "Please, please, c'mon, please–"

"Okay," Vince whispers, and thank God, thank God, Vince's hand slides down and he takes Jeff's cock in his hand. Jeff just leans his head against Vince's shoulder and moans, and Vince starts working him, rocking in just the slightest bit as he does. "That's it, give it to me–give it up, give me everything, mine–"

"Christ, yes, yes–" Jeff gasps and comes, shaking in Vince's arms, hitting the bedroom door–and as soon as he comes, Vince shoves him forward again, and Jeff has just a second to get his arms up so he can brace himself, because Vince isn't taking it easy now. He pushes in hard, fast, rougher than he's been going at Jeff, and Jeff half-collapses against the door but it doesn't matter–Vince slams in again, and again, and then he's coming, too, choking off his moans against Jeff's shoulder.

"Jesus," Vince breathes. "That was–"

"Messy." Jeff doesn't even want to look at the door. "Made a mess."

"Oh, Christ, who cares," Vince says, easing Jeff away from the door. "Come here, come to bed with me…"

The fact that Vince is suggesting they leave the mess for later makes Jeff grin ear-to-ear. He kicks his shoes off and steps out of his pants and boxers, and lets Vince lead him over to the bed. Vince takes the time to get undressed, but Jeff's tired enough all he wants to do is collapse, so he does just that.

When Vince crawls into bed with him, he curls up on Jeff's shoulder and wraps Jeff's tie around his hand a couple of times. "Did I do okay?" he whispers.

Jeff just keeps grinning. "You were great."

"Don't know how scary I was–"

"You were perfect. Better than I thought you were going to be." Jeff turns his head and kisses Vince on the forehead. "You make a good evil boss."

"Yeah, well, you make a good slutty employee."

Jeff laughs. "I tried. So, ah–you want to…" He clears his throat. "You want to do this again sometime?"

"Oh, you bet."

"Good." Jeff closes his eyes as Vince keeps tugging at his tie. "You should get this tie off me."

"I don't know. I kind of like you having a handle." Vince leans forward and nuzzles Jeff's neck. "Maybe next time I'll actually use it. Put you on your knees…"

Next time is sounding better and better to Jeff. "Well, you know how this goes now," he murmurs. "Just say when."