Work Text:
It was adorable and confusing, really, how Black Hat had gone from being downright cruel to him to being infatuated with him. He had his own little ways of showing it: stopping the usage of insults to address him, showing up unannounced to watch him work, making Flug be the one to show up in his office instead of the others, slowly offering him fewer insults with thinly-veiled compliments. And right now, they'd gotten to the point where Black Hat was forcing him to take breaks from their latest invention-in-the-works.
They were at lunch together in Black Hat’s dining hall. Despite being comically huge, the space also gave an unparalleled sense of intimacy. Out of all the seats they could have taken, they were sitting right next to each other at the same side of the table.
They’d been together for a while now, yet it was one of the rare times where Black Hat had decided to offer a romantic gesture towards Flug instead of latching onto him and ravaging him at first sight. Though, now that he thinks about it, that’s not true. Black Hat always finds a way to seamlessly connect the two. Or in this case, Flug was doing it for the both of them.
Mostly because a ‘break’ usually involved being bent in half over whatever surface Black Hat felt like ruining him on. Now, not much of that was happening, and he was so embarrassed that he’d thought this would turn sexual. Plus, every time Black Hat had committed to a romantic gesture or night of sex, it nearly always began with Black Hat walking into Flug’s laboratory and invading his personal space to tease him first, ‘just because’. So now, Flug realizes he’d been...conditioned to become aroused when Black Hat steps into his room. And given that that had just happened not too long ago, Flug was—you guessed it—kind of horny. Surely, Black Hat had to have known this would happen.
It had been a long time—months and years of trust—and yet every touch, every eyeful of Black Hat, every gaze on him when Black Hat wasn’t outright teasing him was still like wildfire. Flug remembers how could barely handle himself after one kiss, and oh, suddenly he’s thinking, what if he makes fun of me for getting hard? And a little squeak escapes him—
Black Hat has been staring at him for a good few seconds, trying to scan his face for signs of discomfort or fear. He’s got a sharp intuition, of course, but can’t quite get a hold on what emotion Flug is feeling because all of the scientist’s scents are mingling together on his skin. He opens his mouth to speak, but then he watches a light squeeze of two thin thighs together which gives him the memo.
Oh. Black Hat’s eye narrows. "My dear doctor," He purrs, resting his hand atop one of Flug's on the table. He rubs little circles into his skin. "You're zoning out again. Your food is going to get cold."
"I...Right. Sorry." Flug’s breathing stops for a split second and then he lets out a shaky breath, feeling Black Hat watch a blush creep up the side of his neck.
After a few moments of chewing a piece of reverse-seared steak, he realizes that no matter how hard he was trying to enjoy the moment, he just keeps getting distracted.
It doesn’t help that earlier this morning, Black Hat had left him unsatisfied after a couple of kisses.
It definitely doesn’t help that he feels Black Hat reach a hand under the table and palm at his inner thigh, causing Flug to shake in his seat.
“Lord Black Hat,” he squeaks, squeezing the edge of the table with one hand, the other trying to claw Black Hat’s hand away. “If you do this, I’m—n—ot going to be able to concentrate on eating.”
“I guess so, but if you don't want me to do it you can always ask me to stop.” Black Hat hums at him, and he smiles when Flug just shakes his head. So he doesn't stop, using his sharp claws to give light scratches to Flug’s cock through his pants.
Flug shoots him a glare, which quickly turns into his eyes darting down. Even though he'd given consent, he was still flustered at just how perverted his boss was. “You—”
Whatever protest Flug’s about to give is promptly stopped by Black Hat pulling down his pants zipper and boxers to free his erection.
The eldritch beside him gives a dark laugh, propping his head on his hand in amusement as he spreads precum around the head of Flug’s cock. “You’re dripping already, Flug. How embarrassing for you, being hard while you’re here in a place where anybody could walk in.”
Flug shudders at this, closing his eyes and biting his lip.
There it is.
He lets out a little moan, his cock hardening even more at the degradation. “I can’t help it. You’re t—oo much,” he says, trying to look away.
“Oh? But I don’t control your cock, Flug. Are you blaming me for your erection?” He moves to physically get the message across, teasing Flug’s cock where he likes it most and getting the smaller man to start fucking into his palm.
"A-Ah... No, it's—it's my fault." Flug’s brain is slowly being stuffed with cotton, with the need for more, and even though he feels embarrassment at Black Hat’s words he’s occupied with chasing an orgasm.
Black Hat gets up from his chair and moves over so he can nibble at the shell of Flug’s ear, talking to him in that hot and low voice of his. “You know, we could continue this in my office.”
“No, I need it now,” Flug breathes, having only half a mind left to listen to Black Hat’s idea of a future.
“You do?” Black Hat uses his free hand to slide up Flug’s stomach and tease his nipple, earning a loud, echoing whimper that they both think someone else could have heard.
Flug nods, breathing out a sigh, and Black Hat tilts his head to the side. He’s rubbing at the underside of Flug’s cock head to make his hips stutter. “If you cum now, you won’t cum later, you know. I’d like to see how long you’ll last. Don’t you?”
The idea of orgasm denial makes his brain explode and he picks up the pieces enough to process what he’s saying.
“What—are you planning,” he whines, as he tries to wriggle away from Black Hat’s grasp. “A-Ah, stop, I don’t want to—!”
Black Hat barks out a laugh, slowing his pace so that he can spare Flug an unwanted consequence.
“Realistically, we’ll do this in parts. The first will be a session where we see if you can avoid…‘misbehaving’ for forty minutes while I do some paperwork that really isn’t due for another few days. A lofty ambition, I know, but if you do well, I’ll make sure you leave me tonight...satisfied, more than you are now.” He trails off, licking a stripe up Flug’s bare neck.
Flug instinctively bares his neck, wanting Black Hat’s fangs on him.
Black Hat takes the opportunity to nibble at the skin, meanwhile alternating between massaging Flug’s other nipple and his dick every few seconds. “If you misbehave enough times, I’ll be so cruel to you that you’ll regret it.”
“What... what’s the catch?” Flug replies like he’s not being tortured alive, though his heart is hammering away. He adjusts his glasses as his reactions to Black Hat start to stabilize, a subtle act of fidgeting.
“No touching me without permission. No noises or sounds or extra movements or else I’ll punish you then, too. You will address me as ‘Master’, ‘Sir’, and ‘Lord Black Hat’ exclusively. I will call you Flug and any name, including derogatory ones, that we have used before that you were comfortable with. If you can survive the first part, we will continue with the second part where I fuck you so hard you can’t walk for days.” He pauses, a grin splitting his face. “Do you understand?”
The question was a thinly-veiled, “Are you okay with this?”
Flug gapes at him. He was a squirmy person, and he was very fidgety even when it came to doing normal things like working. But he nodded, all-too-eagerly. The idea of being punished for things he couldn’t control made a delicious heat swirl in his abdomen.
He takes the lull in teasing to wriggle away from Black Hat, who lets him go but not without a final stroke of his hard-on. “I understand and I approve... Lord Black Hat, sir.”
Black Hat licks his lips at the way Flug says his name. With that perfect smile of his—with too-scary teeth, Black Hat leans in and helps Flug put himself away, giving his dear scientist a heart attack with a low and sultry, “Good.”
He gestures towards Flug’s plate, teasing. “You should finish that.”
Flug begrudgingly grabs his fork, quipping back, “Hopefully, I’ll be eating s-something better later, thank you very much.”
Black Hat found their banter oh-so-adorable. A little laugh, and then the atmosphere slowly dissipated, as if the conversation and teasing had never happened.
A few minutes passed between them before Black Hat stood up, sending out a void that suddenly appeared to pick up both of their empty plates and whisk them away somewhere to be cleaned.
Before leaving Flug to his own devices Black Hat looked over his shoulder. “See to it that you’re in my office when you’re done here.”
* * * * *
It's dark. Flug can't see a thing. And he can't move, either—not unless he wants to be punished. A silken blindfold is tight around his eyes. There's a fluffy tail plug nestled in his ass. He's collared, but Black Hat skipped out on the leash. The lack of one is a symbol that shows how Black Hat’s ownership of him still stands regardless of if there’s a physical means of controlling him or not.
Flug's mouth is occupied by a frankly freakish-looking, tentacle-like appendage: Black Hat's cock. Writhing, twitching, covered in soft bumps that Flug would like to run his tongue over if his main objective wasn't to avoid doing so. "No pleasuring me while I’m working," was another rule added just before they started.
He hopes that Black Hat won't be able to handle it anymore and would command him to properly get up from his spot on the floor and suck him off. Hopes that in return for doing a good job, he'll get to cum, too.
But he isn't, and he won't.
Not for another twenty minutes. He's lasted about twenty so far, somehow, his hard-on from earlier still raging.
All Flug can do is listen to his own thin breathing, shallow and teetering on small whines and moans. Black Hat's pen murmurs above him, drifting across pages and reverberating through the rich mahogany. Every sound is amplified. The shift of Black Hat's soles on wood. The slight sighs Black Hat lets out as he becomes more wound up by his annoying paperwork and (maybe, Flug hopes) his oh-so-obedient dog. Flug listens to the pounding of blood in his ears, rising to a terrible crescendo. He's going insane.
Every movement that Black Hat makes is misinterpreted by Flug as movement towards him, about him—it all must be an act of paying him indirect attention, he thinks. He wiggles impatiently, needing stimulation. It’s probably been fewer than five minutes into the remaining window of time. Yet he's done. He’s trying to push Black Hat to give him some sort of punishment. He needs this to end. He was so determined at the beginning to do the best that he could, to commit to the standard of exemplary performance that earned him his position here in life. And here he is, failing.
He looks like a lowly animal this way, painfully hard and sitting back on his heels, distracted by the ‘toy’ in his mouth. He loves it and hates it at the same time.
Flug swallows spit around Black Hat’s cock and moans as he feels his throat spasm around it. It's a comforting weight, but he wants nothing more than to suck.
He decides right now that his hatred for this position and scenario trumps the adoration, the loyalty, and the respect he has for Black Hat.
He conveniently forgets his role, opting to wiggle impatiently and test a long drag of his tongue on the underside of Black Hat’s dick.
Black Hat stops writing. A slight chill runs down Flug's back and he freezes at the sudden lack of...anything. This doesn't feel like it will produce the result he wants. He almost instantly regrets it.
"What do you think you're doing down there?"
The eldritch doesn't even look down. Flug can feel Black Hat staring ahead at nothing. Purposefully ignoring his status as his right-hand man, his lover, his everything and treating him like he’s gotten into terrible, shameful trouble. Like he doesn't exist and is everything disgusting in the world all at once.
Out of the blue, Black Hat grabs the top of Flug's head, lightly fisting a bunch of his hair. It's a gentle touch, surprisingly, but Flug can feel the hidden and tucked-away authority in his gloved fingertips.
Flug shudders at the thought of Black Hat’s gloved fingers in his mouth, all over his body. He wants to feel his boss’s firm grip around his hips while he's fucked against the desk like tomorrow doesn't exist. His tongue twitches against Black Hat. Again. Accidentally, he says to himself. It was not at all by accident.
The silence goes on for a few seconds. Black Hat’s presence is like a black hole, demanding an answer and refusing to let Flug leave its radius. But Flug really wants Black Hat to speak for him, against him, in that sweet, terrible voice—the one that hints at horrid and delicious consequences because he didn't obey.
There's a loud pop as Flug is unceremoniously pulled away from between Black Hat's legs. Flug is left with cool air on his face as he hears Black Hat put himself away. He doesn’t get any other indication of what’s going on.
As he's trying to guess, the blindfold is removed by a smaller tendril that Flug only feels for a brief moment. It's dark enough under the desk that Flug can adjust easily to the change in light, but the blindfold-removing tendril returns his glasses.
As he awkwardly puts them back on, everything becomes clear and he swallows dryly, aroused an embarrassing amount by what he sees. Black Hat’s chair has been pushed slightly away from the desk so they can both see each other clearly. The eldritch's legs are crossed, lips in a tight line. His single visible eye stares down at Flug with fire and indignation.
He looks even more beautiful, more powerful than he did earlier—maybe it’s the blindfold to blame. Maybe somehow he grew so desensitized to the man before him that being deprived of him for a third of an hour scratched the memory of the former’s beauty out of his brain. This is the only reasonable explanation for why looking at Black Hat just existing makes Flug want to cum on the spot. The eldritch looks so domineering and professional like this, so put together. He’s wearing a very nice black pinstripe suit. Pressed white dress shirt, red pocket square and tie, with a gold lapel pin. Flug’s eyes trail down to Black Hat’s slacks, perfectly fitted as always, and his shoes—black Oxfords, polished to perfection, and Flug squeezes his thighs together. He has a persistent fantasy of being stepped on in those.
He realizes he’s not been looking at Black Hat at all, just his body. He probably looks like a hungry dog. He bites back a whimper at the clear contrast in positioning and power, wanting to look away. But he's stopped by the power in Black Hat's gaze. That delicious voice Flug falls apart at comes a second later, the tone crisp. Emotionless. Far more controlled and level than it had been before they initiated this scene and set everything up.
"I thought that tail of yours would be wagging, Flug. You don't look very happy to see me."
Flug takes a sharp inhale, and he shudders. "That's-"
Black Hat's brow raises, and he adjusts his monocle. "I’m doing you a favor by being patient with you, you know. But is me paying you no attention not enough for you, Flug?"
Flug shakes his head, readjusting his position to look up at Black Hat properly. “You’re just very..." A pause. "...You’re very attractive." He mumbles the next bit. "Nice to look at.”
Black Hat seems like he’s amused for a second, and Flug’s heart swells when he sees Black Hat’s eye flicker with affection. But before he can hold onto that glint, acting like just because he gave a compliment that Black Hat will give him mercy, the eldritch’s face steels and he (un)fortunately continues on.
“If staring at me is enough, we could stop this entirely instead. You can stare at me any time, not just right now. It’s a waste for me to sit here; I could be doing much better things than waiting for you to apologize for distracting me. Would you rather return to your laboratory, hard and unsatisfied, because you couldn't behave for just twenty minutes? "
Flug's spit-soaked lips are frozen in a small, disbelieving "o" for a moment before his voice comes back to him, small and pleading. He realizes that this has very serious consequences.
"No—no, please don't go. Don't leave me here." He laughs a bit nervously, too high, revealing too much. "I'm so turned on, Black Ha—"
Black Hat holds up a finger to shush him, boring holes into Flug with his gaze. "Master," he corrects curtly. "I don’t even want to listen to your complaints or your begging. But make one more mistake. Do something else to cross me. I dare you."
Tears well up in the scientist's eyes. "I-I'm sorry, M—" Black Hat leans down. His foot comes to the length of Flug's erection and presses down hard.
In a moment of euphoric panic, Flug screws his eyes shut and his voice harshly stops. He has forgotten how to speak. This had to have been on purpose, right? Black Hat knew him better than everyone. Knew how his eyes dart from side to side before he gives an answer, how his chest rises and freezes as he prepares to speak. He knew Flug was going to finish his correction and yet he did this, oh, this wonderful thing—
Black Hat scoffs from above him. His shoe presses into him with more pressure and Flug practically collapses inwards on himself in a half-attempt to hump Black Hat's leg.
“Flug, my dear dog. I gave you ample time to respond. Your failure to rectify your inappropriate behavior is pathetic. First you distract me from my work, then you don't answer my questions.”
The man under the desk gives a high whine as Black hat moves his shoe to his bare thigh, grinding it into the skin and leaving a red mark in its place.
Black Hat's voice sounds so far away. He's somehow completely unaware—or all too aware— that to Flug, none of these words make sense. All Flug feels is pressure against him. Delicious pleasure. The orders and demands fall on deaf ears.
"Now you're grinding on my shoe like a dog in heat, even though I said you’re not allowed to touch me.” He pauses, pretending to wait for justification and rationale. This is clearly unfair; Black Hat was the one who made Flug touch him.
But the words still make him boil over with humiliation, and he loves it so much.
“It’s like you don’t care that I’m in control," he comments offhandedly, letting Flug moan and cry on his foot.
“Y-You’re in control, Sir. I know this to be true.” Flug stammers as Black Hat watches him unravel. Black Hat retrieves a cane from thin air and Flug is trembling because he's unsure of what he'll do with it. Flug swallows the spit that's accumulated in his throat and he sighs, “I— I’m s-so thankful that you’re offering me your time.”
Flug thinks this is almost better than sex. Almost.
Black Hat narrows his eye at him and then sighs, picking up his cane and dragging it along Flug's left arm. Flug studies it, the gentle touch distracting.
The cane is modeled after a king cobra, all black bone engraved with scales. The head of the cobra, made of some expensive dark metal, is in Black Hat's hand, and ruby eyes pierce him from above. The cane is decorative, Flug notes, and he's not seen it in use before. The hairs on his neck prickle as he realizes he may be the first that Black Hat has shown it to.
“Look at you," Black Hat breathes, though there's a bit of a scowl in there. "I’m hardly touching you and you’re coming undone all on your own without my help.” He starts to look down at his gloves, not paying attention to Flug at all. The other, however, is transfixed, watching those strong fingers flex in tight material.
“Tell me, Flug…” He starts, voice quiet, threatening. He moves his legs apart, putting the end of the cane directly on his member but not moving it. Simultaneously, he's leaning down and scooting forward to tap his fingers against Flug’s lips.
Without further prompting, Flug opens his mouth and tries to suck. He just can’t, because Black Hat isn’t letting him get any suction. Black Hat’s fingers poke at the inside of his mouth, running all along his teeth and his lips and his hard palate and Flug’s bucking into the air—
Black Hat’s voice drops to a low rumble, tapping Flug's cock with his cane. “Why shouldn’t I just leave you here, alone? You can cum yourself stupid, fuck yourself on some pens or the hump the corner of my desk until you make a mess of this priceless mahogany.” A smile etches itself into his face as he hears Flug groan. “And I don’t even need to be here to entertain you. But, oh, we can’t have our customers and associates knowing you’re whoring yourself out on your boss’s desk. So I’d make you clean it all up with your tongue, in a cute little outfit. You’re doing such a good job with my fingers, I’d like to see you at work elsewhere.”
He curls his fingers before pulling them out of Flug’s mouth and wiping them on his chin. “That sounds humiliating, doesn’t it?”
He smiles down at Flug, who is trying to grind against the stick against him. Black Hat sees, obviously, but he says nothing in favor of torturing him more. “Or maybe...you would like it, wouldn’t you? You’d like to let everyone know that all you’re good for is taking my dick and worshipping me and spreading your legs for me?”
At this, Flug nearly screams. A guttural groan rips itself from his throat, and he gives up the act of pretending to obey entirely. There’s an ache in his core. The space under the desk grows hot and small. He needs out. He needs release, something better than his own hand. He needs—
“Black Hat,” he begs softly. He’s not even sure what he wants. “Black—”
A thin, “Shut up,” helps him remember what silence is. To punctuate it, Black Hat removes the cane from his between his legs and hits his thighs with it instead, leaving a little mark where it makes contact with his skin.
Flug yelps at the pain, but still he reaches to try and take matters into his own hands, guiding Black Hat’s footwear into his dick defiantly. Black Hat tuts, grinding the tip of his cane into the top of Flug's thigh. “What a terrible pet. No matter how much I teach him, he never gets anything through that thick skull of his. He can see me clearly, now. He knows my disapproval like the back of his hand. And yet...”
His voice returns to that of cold professionalism rather than feigned hurt. The frigidity is intoxicating. “What do you have to say for yourself, after all this? You should correct behavior when it goes wrong, not only when I punish you for it. You know I saw you touching yourself, and yet you didn’t stop.”
“I—” Flug starts, though he has no explanation. He just bites his lip and stills entirely, watching Black Hat with glassy eyes. A silent plea, to end this already. He’s gonna explode.
Black Hat pauses, watching Flug. The scientist’s eyelashes are clumped with suspended tears. And he decides Black Hat’s gaze has been on him for too long. He tears his own away, trembling and trying to hide his erection. As if that would erase the past.
The taller man doesn’t even give Flug an opportunity to follow up, just pulling himself away. He looks like he’s going to return to his paperwork. Of course Black Hat noticed. Black Hat notices everything.
"O-Oh no. No, no, no. Master, please—" He shakily grabs at one of Black Hat's pant legs. "Please"—his voice is tiny—"touch me. Please. I'm sorry I touched myself, I'm so sorry—I didn't call you Master the first time, I licked you because I wanted to be punished. I'm disgusting. I’m sorry I touched you. I’m so sorry. I can't apologize enough—I—I’m yours. Please, your attention—"
He's silenced by a loud crack across his jaw, which clips one of his moans into a high cry. He didn’t even see the gloved hand coming, and all he gets to remember it by is a reverberating heat on his right cheek. He moves back towards his original position, silent and letting hot tears drip from his eyes. Guilt and shame pools in his gut. He’s the hardest he’s been in a long time.
Black Hat sighs, as if paying attention to Flug is the worst thing he’s ever had to do.
“You touched yourself. You did the things I specifically told you not to do. And I made a nice gesture of offering you my cock earlier and you messed that up, too. You could shut up for once instead of crawling all over me like your life depends on it and drowning me in your sea of insincere, empty begging. If you truly wanted my attention, you would behave and wait like a good dog. That’s what you are, am I wrong? You’re a pet.”
The eldritch pauses, sadistically watching Flug shake and stammer while trying to absorb that many words. “You don’t own and command me. It’s the other way around.”
Flug nods eagerly, hoping that Black Hat’s foot will return back to his cock. “Yes, Lord Black Hat, Sir, you’re right, yes, I’m your pet, your tool, your asset—”
Black Hat knows Flug is saying this just to get him to touch him. Flug isn't just his pet, or a tool. He’s more than that to him. He’s his everything. Still, he continues. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that so you can convince me to believe you and praise you for being honest?”
He stops his movements for a second to relish in Flug’s voice. He’s babbling, “No, I promise,” and, “I mean it,” and, “I would do anything for you—you own me!”
A deep hum comes from Black Hat’s chest. “Oh, is that so? If you want to prove it, then here’s a command for you.” His voice goes deep and rough. “Since you want to touch yourself so badly, you’re going to get off against my leg or my shoe. You are not allowed to orgasm. And if you bother me enough or get my clothes dirty”—he pauses, nearly purring this last part and putting the cane tip against his cock—“I am going to make you pay. Dearly.”
Flug doesn’t recognize the paradox there, blindly taking the opportunity like it’s his last meal on Earth. He wants that cock in his mouth or ass so badly. But in the meantime he almost instantly mounts Black Hat’s leg, grinding his weeping cock against sumptuous fabric and mewling at the friction. Between his desperate thrusts against his boss’s pants, he mumbles out a, “Thank you, L-Lord Black Hat.”
Black Hat smirks, though Flug isn’t paying attention to him anymore. He knows that it’s literally impossible for Flug to avoid getting anything on his pants. Also, cleaning them is an easy job—just conjure new ones, get them dry cleaned, what-have-you. But it’s still fun to make fun of Flug for things he can’t control—especially right now.
Black Hat looks down at Flug while he’s getting himself off, rutting against his shoe and pants at a pace that’s clearly erratic and showing unfulfillment. For a split second, Flug presses his face against Black Hat’s leg and the eldritch’s eye twitches. Flug’s glasses have slid down onto the lower part of his nose bridge and Black Hat removes his own cock from his pants. He can't get enough of how that nervous wreck of a man looks so sexy with his glasses not properly on his face, sweat matting his curly hair to his skin, lips blood-red and fog sticking to the insides of his lenses.
A few minutes pass, with Black Hat jerking himself off and watching Flug hump his leg with mild (feigned) disgust. Really, he just wants to pick the poor man up and fuck him silly, but he has a reputation to keep up. His breathing starts to go wild. Then—
Black Hat doesn’t say anything to address him, just grunting as he leans forward and drenches Flug’s face in cum.
Flug looks up from the task at hand when Black Hat grunts, and he flinches as he's finished on. Some semen gets on the lenses of his glasses, which Black Hat adores, and then the rest goes into his hair and into his mouth.
“Master,” Flug squeaks, voice broken from his rutting. He's pretty much about to orgasm just from being treated as a cumrag. He reaches up to clean semen out of his curls. "You're so mean."
Black Hat scoffs. Strokes himself past his orgasm and then he moves to put himself away for the second time in the night. When he's done, he leans down to shove fingers roughly into Flug’s mouth to play with the cum that's pooled on his tongue, to shut him up. "Maybe I am mean," he says. "But I have to admit that you look better like this, drenched in me. Marked up, owned."
He toys with him for a second before rising and smearing the mix of semen and saliva against Flug’s cheek, failing to pay him any further attention. And here, the scientist's brain swims with confusion, desperation and terror. He’s pretty sure if he stops now he’s going to hate himself. If he lets himself cum by accident, he’s also going to hate himself. If he begs again, as if Black Hat hadn’t heard it the first time, he’s probably going to be denied and that will be terrible, too. There’s no way out. Flug tries anyway, swallowing Black Hat’s cum when his mouth is left alone and taking a deep breath.
He starts to tug at the lower cuff of his pant leg desperately though he’s not sure he’ll get anywhere. He doesn’t really care at this point.
"L-Lord Black Hat, Sir—” His voice is breathy, thin, and high. The smell of sex around him and on his face is starting to make him feel delirious.
Black Hat moves his leg away and the cane towards his crotch, an action that Flug is sure is Black Hat’s way of ‘casually adjusting himself’ with the ulterior motive to make Flug suffer.
Flug is correct.
The scientist cries out at the idea of losing his one chance at being satisfied or dying from getting his dick caned. “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry—for demanding something. You don’t need to touch me. It's not a requirement in the slightest, but—I’ll use anything you give me. I'll take it all.” His words are growing clipped and incomplete the longer he goes on. He has to cough to get his throat clear.
The only thing he gets in response is Black Hat's complete ignorance.
Black Hat holds back a sardonic laugh at Flug, who can do nothing but whimper with trembling lips because it's all so blatantly mean. He’s too busy drowning in the denial of his pleasure. It gets him off more than anything.
Flug crumples down on the floor completely. He reaches up to wipe his face, to sober himself up more than the ‘No’ had. He needs a second to regain his composure. Many seconds. Maybe forever.
At some point, he suddenly smells leather. He lifts his gaze from the floor to see the shoe that was just previously on his dick in front of his lips.
Black Hat is sneering. “You're annoying, and I want to have you shut up for a bit. Clean my shoe. Now.”
Flug, with only two functional brain cells, stupidly reaches up and tries to wipe away his fluids from the tip of the shoe with his fingers. Flug feels Black Hat push the tip of the shoe against his lips.
"Are you stupid?" Black Hat spits this from somewhere deep in his chest, and Flug almost creams himself on the floor. "Do it correctly." A devious smile. "Put some love into it."
Flug’s legs shake. He really does have a terrible and insatiable hunger for Black Hat, voice and all.
His tongue flicks out to give shaky kitten licks to the polished leather, which tastes strangely of soot and chemicals. After a few moments, he reaches up to grip the shoe tightly and lick it clean, moaning here and there as it sets in how disgusting he really is. He peppers kisses all over the material, earning pleased sounds from the man above him.
In the middle of it all, Black Hat uses the cane to tease Flug's cock. He chuckles as he feels Flug twitch and writhe, unsure of whether to buck into the feeling or pull away to prevent an orgasm.
"You should be paying full attention to the task at hand, Flug," Black Hat says plainly, as if the lack of concentration that Flug is having is entirely the scientist's fault.
"Master," Flug manages to get out, form hunching over as he’s kept hostage against his boss's leg. He swallows thickly. "I'll do better."
"You will, if you know what's good for you.”
Flug nods, but he can barely get his mouth around the tip of the shoe before he’s crying out again. The cane on his cock is dipping against his head, rubbing around it, flicking atop in a way that has him thrusting into it for contact, envelopment, suction.
“If you don’t finish in the next minute, I’m going to leave you here.”
“I-I’m try—ah—ing,” he cries, euphoria tickling at the edges of his vision, and he squeezes his thighs together so he won’t cum. After all, he was told not to.
Black Hat sneers as Flug squirms around the friction against his cock, and with great urgency the scientist makes a show of going 'above and beyond' by licking the top of the shoe to hopefully end the torture, despite both of them being sure he’d never touched it. When he’s done he can see spit on its surface, but Black Hat doesn’t seem to care. The eldritch puts the shoe down and removes the cane, satisfied.
“Good boy,” he smiles. “Tell me what you'd like in return."
Flug heaves in much-needed breaths but even with all the fresh air, he blanks out completely. He doesn’t know what comes over him—he's so confused, so horny, heat curling in his gut at his chance to take the sudden generosity. But he just lets out a disgusting, filthy noise. “I—”
“I may be your boss, but I'm surely not so cruel as to punish you for a job well done,” he purrs. “However...I did say you were going to pay if you got me dirty, right? It can be like a loan. You do something to get yourself off, and I'll make you pay for it later.”
Flug nods his head. It’s all he can do, and then he’s reaching down to jerk himself off despite the stimulation not being enough. “I want to cum,” he breathes, so desperate that Black Hat can smell it. It smells intoxicating, like fear and ferity, making him want to mount Flug right there and fuck him so hard and fill him with cum. But this will have to do.
“Hm...what about my shoe?" He starts, finally pandering to Flug. “Do you want to give it a new coat of polish?" Black Hat asks, and Flug nearly dies on the spot. Black Hat looks disinterested, but his eye is on fire.
“Y-you—What?” Flug simply sits there, shaking. The rusty gears in his head are turning, working in overdrive. He thinks about what he could polish Black Hat’s shoe with besides his saliva, and then it clicks.
Black Hat smiles as he smells a fresh wave of heat come off of Flug’s body. “Yes, you’ve likely licked all of the polish off. So you can polish it, Flug. It looks like you want it. And you’d better hurry it up.”
Flug looks up at him all bug-eyed, and then he’s working himself until his hips are stuttering. He doesn’t even say anything and Black Hat is pleased with the silence because he has time to watch him. Has time to process how Flug's obsession with little details carries over to his sex life. Black Hat really doesn't have to do much work. All he has to do is glance at him sidelong, adjust his monocle in Flug's face, smirk at him—oh, sometimes he peels off a glove and Flug looks like he'll pass out. He gets so aroused by his clothing, from positioning and little details, and it's oh-so-adorable that he can cum just from some touching and teasing without any direct stimulation from Black Hat himself. Black Hat thinks that Flug’s positively breathtaking like this.
“What a good boy,” Black Hat coos, as Flug cums all over his shoe with a yelp. And with an order to spread the polish evenly, Flug uses his tongue to cover Black Hat’s footwear in white. Of course, some drips onto the floor, and Flug has done a mediocre job (not that anybody could do a ‘good job’ anyway, it’s physically impossible) but Black Hat conveniently ignores it.
Flug’s breathless, chest heaving, back aching. He sits back, trying to stabilize his shaky legs.
“I’m feeling generous,” Black Hat says. “Consider your debt paid, after one thing...”
In the silence, he’s looking back up at Black Hat with doe eyes. He feels Black Hat wanting to say something.
“You know…” Black Hat trails off, confirming Flug's suspicion. It appears they know each other better than he thought. “This whole ‘forty minutes’ thing has been over for a few minutes now, Flug.”
Flug’s lips part in confusion. He expected it to be more dramatic. He expects something, anything. A, “Well done,” or a, “You did it.” But Black Hat just leans back in his chair.
“It’s too bad that I can’t even remember what I was working on because of how many times you ruined my concentration. You even got me so horny I had to take an unnecessary break. That alone is too much for me to forgive. Poor Doctor of mine...”
Flug shudders at the usage of his name like that.
A few tense moments pass between them. Flug expects Black Hat to simply get up and leave him to die alone without anything else and he opens his mouth to protest the silence. But then he hesitates because it seems like Black Hat is actually contemplating something.
He stands up, emotionless. “Well, Flug, come up here. You're going to sit here and receive your comeuppance for the trouble you've given me tonight.”
Flug doesn’t stop to think about the sudden change in attitude or how threatening this sounds. He struggles to get to his feet, and before he's hoisted onto the desk Black Hat pulls at his collar for a heated, terrifyingly deep kiss.
Flug moans into his lover's mouth as the taller man tilts his chin up. Their tongues mingle in each other's mouths at some point, all clashing teeth and exchanging spit. Flug drowns in the kiss, unable to breathe. When he feels Black Hat's true purr, a deep noise from a place that Flug isn't even sure exists, he shudders and pulls away.
They just stare at each other after they're free from each other and then Black Hat is grinning at him. "I can feel your heart pounding." He reaches out to grab the nape of Flug's neck, leaning into his ear. "Tell me: just how badly do you want what I have in store for you?" He adds a light groping of Flug's soaked inner thighs to the mix, and Flug's knees almost buckle.
"I do, I want it. Very badly. So badly. Please," he whispers, and he feels Black Hat smiling against his skin. A tongue snakes out to lick at his jaw and across the conjunction where his ear and neck meet, and then the eldritch pulls away.
"Let's hope you don't regret your decision," is all he says before he's helping Flug up onto his desk. He quite literally smacks the paperwork and the tools he's used to fill it out with off of the table to make room for his lover. His back is eventually to Black Hat and he’s facing the door, ass up and face against the desk. His knees are a bit sore, but the wood digs into him deliciously. Black Hat seems to notice his discomfort and lifts him up just a few millimeters so he doesn't bruise.
Flug has entirely forgotten what could happen in the second part of this whole thing or how it was supposed to happen. He’s delirious at this point, buzzing in his skin. The only thing that brings him back to Earth is feeling Black Hat’s presence directly behind him.
He then listens to Black Hat strip heavy pieces of clothing. He mentally goes through a list. Pocket square (why didn't he just take it off with his jacket?). Tie. Suit jacket, which he puts to the side somewhere. Then he's quiet. Flug thinks he's unbuttoning his dress shirt. Flug can hear the cloth moving and he thinks if he turns around to look at how sexy Black Hat is, he'll die.
The mental gymnastics stop when Flug hears Black Hat exhale behind him, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up. Then he's groping his ass with an ungloved(!) hand and touching him around the tail plug. Flug squeaks at the contact, his hole clenching around the plug inside of him. The tail moves.
He absently notes that he loves the feeling of Black Hat's bare skin against his. The shedding of that professional, stoic persona to reveal the cruel yet sexy man underneath...ah, Flug remembers how in love he is.
Likewise, Black Hat thinks that the scientist looks delicious like this, slightly boneless and flushed red. He smells even better. The lust and want is heavy on his skin still, filling the air with delectable heat that Black Hat could get drunk on if he tried.
Black Hat rubs one of his bare hands against the backs of Flug's shaking thighs for long enough that Flug is shivering with anticipation.
"Bad dogs need punishment," is what Black Hat starts with. He's slipped back into his former air of professionalism.
"How will I take it? Will you f—" He cuts himself off. "Will you bury yourself in me and use me until I break? I think that's a good enough punishment for me—"
Black Hat silences him by pressing a finger against his plugged hole. "You'll be taking this with your ass, yes. But...maybe not in the way you'll expect."
Flug wants to turn around to give him a lost look, but before he can do or say anything, Black Hat speaks. The scientist realizes that Black Hat's voice sounds dreamy and far away, like he's admiring some distant memory. "I think that tail on you is fitting...you should wear it all the time when you work."
"But really,"—Black Hat starts—"What I want to see is how it twitches when I do this."
Flug's mouth falls open as the first crack comes to his left. Claws whisper across his skin after the scream of closed fingers and the shout of a palm.
Black Hat's chest rumbles with an appreciative noise as Flug's tail really does move from his clenching. And for Flug, the way his skin tingles and feels like lava as Black Hat manipulates it goes straight to his cock. Yet he tries to shrink himself so Black Hat can't access any of his delicate skin. Unfortunately, he's stopped by Black Hat's cane, which is apparently being used as a makeshift spreader bar. It's holding his legs open at the ankles in tandem with some tendrils and he whimpers at how exposed he feels.
Now, it's been a few seconds since the first spank. Black Hat is gently kneading at his skin, leaving feather-light touches and little scratch marks as he taps and squeezes fresh marble. Flug's shivering in anticipation, and the slaps come, chiseling him. He's ordered to count them out. All he gets as warning are deep, halting breaths as Black Hat rears his hands back to hit them angled against his skin. They're artisan tools, turning him into a work of art.
One comes to the crease where his left thigh and buttock meet. He can say this number with ease, though his voice is shaky.
Two settles at his upper right thigh.
Three is so close to his balls that he gasps. The slaps are starting to become unpredictable. Light but harsh enough that Flug's losing his mind. They're making him jumpy, and 'three' comes out as a squeak.
Four is a light flick against his cock, and he's crumbling. The sting is almost unnoticeable, but the fact that he was touched at all is driving him nuts.
Five and six land on the backs of his thighs and have him moaning wantonly like he's being fucked. his brain is starting to shut down because there's no pattern to it at all. He forgets a number and Black Hat touches his cock to 'bring his focus back.'
After a few minutes, Flug is dripping onto the desk and between the fourteen spanks so far Black Hat has to keep reminding him not to cum. The impacts are making his brain a pleasant kind of fuzzy, just barely quenching the crazy heat that threatens to fry him alive. But still he's gasping for air, hissing as his skin throbs, and a particularly hard and final spank to his ass suddenly threatens to send him overboard and—
"I can't, Lord Black Hat, Sir." He sniffles, swallowing wetly. "I'm indebted to you f-for causing you trouble today, for being obstinate and forgetting my place." His head is pounding, and he can feel his heartbeat in the skin on his backside. "P-please, I've learned my lesson." He's balled his hands into fists. "I won't misbehave anymore—I-I want to cum on your cock, not on your desk."
"Mm." He stops for a second, then makes a seemingly approving noise. "I see you're still making demands. I don't have to give you anything, really, but perhaps I will treat you to a little something." He comes up closer so Flug can hear him in his ear. "You did good," Black Hat murmurs against him, and he sounds a little out of breath. "I still don't believe you'll behave, but you're too irresistible for me not to indulge your wishes..." Soft tentacles come up to massage the skin that was just spanked, and Black Hat's voice seems softer. Maybe a bit desperate, despite not showing it in the same way that Flug does.
The taller man digs his claws into Flug’s flesh, leaning his head to the side so he can lick and kiss his scientist’s red and claw-marked behind. He tempts to draw blood, razor sharp fangs dragging along the soft skin and coming up to nibble Flug’s back. The man under him groans, whining, and somewhere off in paradise Flug notices that Black Hat’s noises are becoming more...animalistic, and his voice is losing the lofty edge and now turning predatory.
Black Hat moves Flug so that he's in his lap. The tendrils have applied some sort of antihistamine and hydrocortisone mix, and the skin on his back is cooling way quicker than he expects.
Flug enjoys the feeling of being cared for, and Black Hat looks like he's finally indulging him. The feeling of finally being touched in a way that isn't spanking or teasing is… It’s nice, is all Flug can think, as a tendril sneaks down and touches his inner thigh.
The eldritch’s love for Flug is evident in the way that he knows exactly where Flug likes it and how. Gently, tenderly, and all so sinister, he removes the plug from his ass, stroking Flug’s entrance over and over with a wet tentacle, sliding it slowly back up so it can fondle his balls. He pulls Flug back to kiss him again, this time nibbling at his lip and drawing the smallest pricks of blood.
While Flug is having the wind kissed out of him, in the meantime Black Hat places a hand wide across Flug’s stomach. Flexing his claws, Black Hat leaves deep trailing marks as he scrapes up Flug’s chest and up, up, up further to gently choke the scientist above his collar. Wrapping fingers around Flug’s neck, Black Hat cuts off his air supply. His free hand reaches around to roll one of Flug’s nipples using skilled fingers and between losing oxygen and being touched in three places at once Flug screams into Black Hat's mouth, feeling himself about to lose it.
As his body tenses from being continuously teased, Black Hat frees him from the kiss. Flug thinks he can breathe again until Black Hat sends a second tendril down to his front, gripping the base of his cock and making him arch his back deliciously as he’s slowly brought to the edge and teased down. Flug is forced to answer another slew of questions that he can barely understand.
“Tell me what made you so hard." Black Hat's voice isn't as rough anymore. It's just dark. Demanding. "Was it my cum on your face? On your glasses? Was it feeling my foot against your cock that did it? Or was it the fact that I hadn’t been paying attention to you at all?”
“Ngh,” Flug chokes out, finding it difficult not to scream at Black Hat at this point. The stimulation is too much. His cock needs attention. He smells marked. Owned.
His hands are grabbing at his throat to fight the loss of air. “A-all of it,” he says breathily. “All of it, it was so good.” His voice starts to slur. “I love—” He twitches in place, trying to struggle out of the control Black Hat has. “Ah, please—”
Black Hat leans down to suck a bite into the unmarred side of Flug’s neck. When the latter is wriggling and clearly losing his composure, he stops choking him. While Flug desperately fills his lungs with air, Black Hat reaches down to free his own trapped erection. When it touches the skin on Flug’s lower back, the both of them moan out of anticipation.
“You’re s—so hard.”
“You’re so disgusting; of course I am. How could I not be, when you look so good like this? Legs spread, face wet with tears. Dried cum all over you. Moaning like a whore while I hit you. You belong to me. I'm the only one who can make you look this debauched,” Black Hat growls, a cruel affection in his voice. He sounds more like a monster now than a CEO.
Black Hat spreads Flug’s ass apart and eases the thin tendril inside. Gently working Flug open, he leaves open mouthed kisses all over his scientist’s back and shoulders, licking the sweat off of his skin and leaving tiny pinpricks as he nibbles at tight bands of muscle and small scars.
The tip of his cock is eventually poking at Flug’s ass, which seems to be adequately prepared. It wasn’t enough stimulation to have Flug completely out of his mind, but he’s breathless again anyway. He lets his head rest back against Black Hat’s shoulder.
“Master, please.” The smaller man has enough fight in him to reach around and try to guide the tentacle inside of him, but Black Hat slaps it away before pinning his hands somewhere with yet another tendril.
Black Hat is purring beside his ear. Flug can hear him smiling. “Look at you, using proper titles when it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ll never get my favor back after what you did earlier. Even after punishment I have no way of guaranteeing that you won't misbehave.”
Flug shakes in his hold, trying to take the upper hand and just spear himself on Black Hat on his own. This teasing is too much. He's been edged once. Twice, really. He whines, and he’s so frustrated he might scream. His vocalizations take on an enraged streak.
“Stay still,” Black Hat quips back. The tendril wrapped around his wrists tightens. “Be good and take it, since you wanted it.”
Before Flug can protest, Black Hat gently eases himself into Flug to shut him up, using one hand to touch Flug’s other neglected nipple. Flug arches his back towards Black Hat’s hand but as he feels his cock fill him up, he freezes and starts to hiss out, “yes, yes, yes.” There’s a slight discomfort as his body accommodates the length and all of its little bumps, and for Black Hat the sensations of Flug’s inner walls gripping him so tightly are so overwhelming that he has to stop and take a deep breath before bottoming out so he doesn’t explode.
This really is the first time today that Black Hat has had Flug on him. Having his mouth around his dick was nice, but considering it was for cockwarming and not cocksucking, he’d missed out on this experience and was euphoric at himself for lasting this long. The wait was so worth it; Flug’s body was hotter than it had ever been before.
“You're—ah, huge,” Flug mumbles, and he clamps down around Black Hat as the latter starts to thrust into him shallowly.
“Are you trying to flatter me? Maybe part of my assistance should be with making you stay silent.”
A little too roughly, Black Hat reaches up to thrust three fingers into Flug’s mouth so far that he coughs. His claws have been retracted far enough that they won't slice the inside of his cheeks or his tongue, but he leaves a little bit of nail to scrape against Flug’s teeth and gums.
The intrusion makes Flug groan and whine, so to shut him up more Black Hat starts fingerfucking his throat. The smaller man briefly notes that without his gloves, Black Hat’s much rougher. Much more aggressive. He likes it like this.
Copious amounts of saliva drip from Flug’s mouth, and Black Hat finds it incredibly sexy how wrecked he looks.
“Be sure to stay quiet,” Black Hat hisses, and right when Flug is about to swallow his drool the eldritch begins to bounce him aggressively on his cock. The order goes completely forgotten as Flug starts to gasp every couple of thrusts, and the difficulty is increased as two tentacles come up to flick and tweak Flug's nipples. The fingers in his mouth begin to play with his tongue and press at it, and he begins to suck them like he would a cock. He's arching wildly, trying to chase every source of pleasure he's offered. His body twitches cutely as Black Hat plays with the sensitive buds on his chest, and his squeaks are punished with little slaps to his chest. It's not fixing any problems, instead making everything worse.
Black Hat gets some sick sense of joy from this and watching Flug break rules; after a while or so he takes his hand out from Flug’s mouth and wraps it around a hip to get some better leverage. Really, he wants Flug to be louder.
“You're in love with being pinned down on my cock, aren't you? Even though I tell you not to make noise I guess you can't help it."
He shoves himself into Flug up to the hilt before sliding back out and trying to hit his prostate on the way in. The scientist is moaning nonstop and whining as his prostate is assaulted, cock flopping uselessly against his stomach. Every time he says Black Hat’s name it's a little more desperate and weak-sounding, and it's going straight to Black Hat’s dick.
“It seems like you might cum like this. How fitting. You’ve gotten off more than I have today.” Without warning he suddenly changes position, standing up and moving a surprised Flug so he's got his front half against the desk and his bottom half hanging off of it, deliciously on display for and at the mercy of his boss. The tendrils pinning his arms move, still binding him, so he can brace himself on the desk.
“I can't—” Flug starts, resting his head against the desk. Black Hat feels him twitching around his dick. The scientist's bound hands flex and spasm, wanting to fly down to touch his throbbing cock. “A-Ah. Sir—please, I really need—”
"Oh no, you don't." Black Hat growls into his ear. He smiles. "But if you want to, try. Be my guest. Come on my cock, Flug."
He snaps his fingers and the pocket square he discarded earlier is in his hands. He doesn't reach down to forbid Flug from an orgasm, though. Not this time. He just watches as Flug concentrates on the pleasure and after a couple more thrusts, after Black Hat spreads him to expose his needy hole, Flug cums out of shame—spraying semen all over what would be the edge of Black Hat’s desk and the carpet. But Black Hat has put his pocket square up to Flug's cock and when the smaller man is spent, Black Hat is wiping his dick clean. He's cooing, telling him what a mess he's made. Then he shoves the soiled material in Flug's mouth to keep him quiet.
Black Hat moans as Flug clenches around him but he doesn't stop. He keeps fucking into him brutally and soon Flug is letting out little cries, overstimulated. Black Hat hears muffled pleas of, “Ah—stop, please, I just—Sir, please, have mercy—”
“You get none,” Black Hat growls, and he snaps his hips against Flug even harder. “You've dirtied my office, my clothing, my hands. You're so slutty that you came because you thought about someone walking in on us just now, didn't you? I have a right to be angry at you, don't you think, for wanting to slut around for another man?”
With a particularly loud whimper, Flug starts sniffling and he feels himself getting hard again despite all odds. “That's not true," he exclaims around the cloth in his mouth, and he coughs. He's smelling and tasting his own semen and it's making his head spin. He didn’t realize how dry and raw his throat was. "I came because you're making me feel so good, you only, I belong to you—" He's suddenly filled with enough breath to quip back at Black Hat with, "A-And what about y—mm—your cum, Master? You came on me and all over the c—ah—carpet. Y-You—”
Black Hat snaps, shoving the cloth back into his mouth. He's reaching his hand down to stroke Flug through the oversensitivity. He's almost flush against Flug’s back, and he leaves little dots of green drool as he leans close to Flug’s ear.
Between hard and relentless thrusts, Black Hat spits, “Where my semen goes is irrelevant to you, but since you always want it so badly, I save it up just for you.” He pauses to hiss as Flug tightens around him. “You’re just a sleeve for my cock, a hole to fuck and cum in when I get bored. But you're so cute I like to keep you around. You do belong to me. Only me.” He changes his angle. “And you don't get to cum unless I say. I don’t like giving you permission but it doesn't matter anyway. You exploit me regardless, like just now. You talk back.”
Flug gasps, brain too fried to make words. He knows this is true. Not just for today, but for any day; Black Hat purposely tells him for example that he can’t cum just so he can watch Flug panic as he's forced to orgasm anyway. Black Hat makes it so that he is forced to break rules—something he’s bored of in his regular life but is so tantalizing in the bedroom. And the fact that Black Hat is the one making the rules means that it's that much more intoxicating to break them. They both relish in it. Pushing Black Hat’s stupid and irrational buttons like, “Don’t touch me no matter what,” is half the thrill; punishing Flug for the things that don't make sense, like moving around or getting hard without permission, is the other. When there's no rationale for Flug’s little scientist’s brain to come to, he just short circuits and explodes into embarrassment and shame for being unable to solve the problem.
Flug nods blankly, mouth hanging open as he pants. He's thrusting desperately into Black Hat’s hand and trying to roll his hips back against his boss’s cock.
Black Hat nips at Flug’s back, mumbling against his skin. “Maybe it would be nice if I brought you to a meeting and fucked you there on the table so everyone would know how talented you are, not only in chemistry and science but in taking me like you were made for it.”
Flug cries out, choked, and keens. Black Hat laughs as he feels Flug’s cock twitch in his hand. Flug is too far gone to care about hiding away, unable to keep anything in his mouth except his voice. He turns his head as if it would make him any louder or clearer, his mess of curls sticking to his forehead. “I’m yours only, Sir—please don't show anybody else how much of a s-slut I am. I'll—”
“You'll what, my dear Doctor?” Black Hat coos, fisting Flug's cock and twisting his wrist perfectly. He waits for the scientist to reach that crescendo again and then grips the base of his cock, which Flug wails deliciously at. “I know what you'd do.” He pulls out of Flug’s ass and gives himself a few strokes, lubricating himself further before re-entering Flug with renewed fervor. Somehow, Black Hat is continuing with a terrifyingly consistent pace. Flug absently notes that his ass is sore already.
“I know you’d whine as everybody stares at you. Would you try to hide behind that paper bag of yours? If you leave it on, maybe it can hide how hard your face blushes when you get hard. And nobody would see how cute you look with those glasses. You can save that look of yours for me.”
“N-no,” Flug squeaks, and he’s shaking so hard that Black Hat thinks he's going to fall over. “I wouldn't like people staring at me,” he babbles. “I'm your dog, I'm yours. I’m your favorite. Don't give me away—”
“Don't lie. Of course you want to be whored out for an audience. You want someone else to cum on you, make you look more like a slut than you usually do,” He hisses. "You want me to show you who owns you? Then here—!" And with a final, almost too-deep growl, Black Hat’s thrusts go impossibly deep. They stutter and stop as he roars, filling Flug with his cum.
Flug whimpers as he feels heat in his gut, coating his insides. He instinctively clenches around Black Hat’s cock to milk him and as Black Hat pulls out of his ass, the alien cock scrapes his prostate just barely. His own pleasure hits a delicious wall, forgotten cock leaking a few pathetic ropes of semen as his body registers an orgasm. In the next few moments he’s scrabbling against the desk, rutting against where Black Hat should be as his orgasm is accidentally ruined. Trying to return to the source of his pleasure fails all within a few seconds and he immediately reaches down, desperately jerking himself off to get back the sensation he was owed.
Too late—he’s already starting to become oversensitive.
He looks...terribly beautiful. Black Hat feels a pang of guilt when he realizes just how much he's put Flug through for him. The poor man’s face is red everywhere, his brown hair messy and matted with cum and sweat, nose running. His glasses are crusted with semen, and drool is dried on the sides of his mouth. Red scabs smile on his upper chest, deep blooming hickeys kissing all over his neck. Claw and hand prints all over his legs. His nipples are flushed red, the skin around them still showing where he was pressed against the table. And still, despite the wrecked look on him, he's put together enough to work himself up.
He doesn't even care about petitioning Black Hat to help him anymore, but he's still murmuring little pleas for assistance despite himself. He's there for a minute, sitting with his legs spread on the edge of his desk and violently jerking himself off. Black Hat's vision is foggy, but he's watching Flug let out frustrated moans when the pleasure is blocked by a deep ache in his gut.
Exhausted, the scientist stops to catch his breath. He's got his eyes screwed shut, and they shoot open when he soon feels a strange sensation around him. Flug hears Black Hat's voice in his ear. "What a good dog you are, Flug, nicely asking for help. Now, I finally want to give it." He's being moved. And when he realizes what's going on, he takes a shaky breath in and whimpers.
“Lord... Black Hat,” he breathes, instinctively bucking into the other’s wet heat as it settles over his erection. His boss's mouth is warm, long tongue digging into his favorite spot just under the head of his cock. Flug’s sense of reason goes completely dark as he indulges in pure, undenied pleasure once and for all.
Over the course of a few minutes, Black Hat has worked him gently and persistently enough that he's become hard and not all that sensitive anymore. His body is screaming at him to take a break, but he's chasing his orgasm whether he dies tonight or lives tomorrow.
He feels himself approaching climax, and Black Hat grins around his dick.
With a couple more well-placed licks, Flug screams, gripping at Black Hat’s shoulders so hard he swears he's going to break skin. At once, he grabs Black Hat’s head and pushes it down against him, spilling his cum deep into his throat. The other coughs at the sudden intrusion but swallows around the cock, helping to guide the last of Flug’s semen out of him.
After Black Hat feels Flug stop twitching, he swallows again, removing his mouth from his dick with a desperate, hungry expression.
He grips Flug’s inner thigh, a small act of grounding his poor lover.
Flug just stares at him blankly. All at once, he's hyperaware of how cold the office is, how sticky he feels, and how hard the desk is.
“I…”
His gaze darts to Black Hat's side, who has materialized a glass of water for the both of them.
“T...That was good.” He laughs. Black Hat is offering him water, and with shaky hands holding Black Hat's, he takes little sips out of the glass. Black Hat's hands are warm, he notes, and he sighs. A soft little sound that makes Black Hat’s heart swell. “That was...Really good. Exceptional, even.”
“Was it, now? Are you satisfied?” Black Hat chuckles, wiping his free hand on the pile of clothes he'd discarded. Flug hadn't noticed he'd jerked off to a second orgasm while giving Flug a blowjob.
Flug nods, too boneless and tired to say anything else. Maybe they can resume this later, after he’s regained some strength.
Black Hat smiles, getting up from his chair and surveying the mess that they made in the office.
“I think we've debauched my office as much as I debauched you,” he says. “I'd like to tidy it up later. But you come first.”
* * * * *
Black Hat has already started a bath. He has them both sitting at its edge, on a little seat in the water. He doesn't like baths, preferring showers, but moments like these are necessary and important. He would rather be together with Flug here.
Their part of the bathroom is filling with steam, and they both watch it curl up to the ceiling before disappearing.
“You know I did not mean the words that I said during today's session,” he says quietly, while massaging shampoo into Flug’s scalp and wiping suds away from his eyes. He says it with conviction and confidence—none of the surprising vulnerability he'd had at first. “You are not just a tool or an asset to me. I know I say you are my right-hand man, but that is just..." He trails off, biting at the inside of his cheek. "You mean far too much to me for me to harm you. You know I love you.”
“I-I know,” Flug mumbles, a little flustered, and he pulls Black Hat’s hand down to kiss it.
He makes a face. “It tastes like soap,” he comments. Black Hat blinks at him, though he can't see it since Flug’s head is facing the other side of the tub.
“Not my fault,” the eldritch says, his typical voice having returned. But the bite is fake. It's charming. “But...We can do this again sometime, and you can taste something sweeter then. Something better than just a blowjob. Doesn’t that sound good, Flugslys?”
Flug scoffs, closing his eyes as Black Hat helps rinse the soap out of his hair. “Oh please. If I think any more about how mean you were to me, I’m going to run away and you'll have to find someone who's better equipped to handle your insatiable appetite for cruelty.”
Black Hat quips back, “I’m not the one that keeps coming back for it, am I?”
“Oh, hush.”
Black Hat purrs, a pleasant noise that makes Flug relaxed. He works blood flow into the bruises on Flug's upper body, smiling when Flug gives a relaxed sigh. "Anything for you.”