Just pretend it's Thursday
Title: Never a Goodbye.
Rating: NC-17 (the first I'm admitting to being NC-17 in this fandom)
Pairing: Angel/Deskjob
Summary: Angel visits London to sort out some paperwork. Deskjob disapproves of this, and puts Nicholas in his place. Rape-fic
Notes: See, this is why I give Deskjob a new name in each of my fics.
Sergeant Joseph Harman frowned at the man leaning over his desk. “I thought I got rid of you,” he said from by his door.
“Back again,” Nicholas replied, leafing through papers. “Where’d you put the forensics roster?”
Joseph stepped over to the desk, and slid a folder out from under half a dozen identical folders. “This your last trip to London then?”
“I certainly hope so,” Nicholas replied, leafing through the folders contents. He frowned. “This isn’t up to date.”
“Yes it is.”
“No,” Nicholas said patiently, “it isn’t. Half these people opted out of Sandford once the bodies started moving.” He looked up with those sharp, tired eyes. “If the Met can’t even keep track of its own people, I don’t know how anyone expects me to.”
Joseph snorted, switching his computer monitor on. It was late, and the floor was pretty much deserted, and once this was sorted out Nicholas would be back in Sandford, never to cast his shadow upon the building again. “You take too much upon yourself, sergeant Angel.” He looked over his shoulder at Nicholas. “I know you get off on exact paperwork, but dragging me in here four hours after I’ve knocked off is a bit excessive.”
Nicholas leant back against the window sill, legs crossed at the ankle as he went back to leafing through the papers. “If you’d done your job and had this all ready for me when I got here, I wouldn’t have to,” he replied absently. “You’ve got the staffing list for the coroner and her assistants wrong to,” he added.
Joseph rolled his eyes, and clicked through various e-mails and files until he found something that resembled up to date information. “These are the most recent records I have,” he said simply. “Anything missing, you’ll have to go drag Coffer in CSI out of bed.”
Nicholas dropped the file on the desk, and bent down, leaning an elbow on the desk as he clicked through the files, too distracted to be tense. Too distracted to notice how close they were. “Looks about right,” he said at last. “If you could just-” he turned his head, cutting himself off when he almost bumped noses with Joseph. He stepped back quickly, stumbling slightly. Joseph clicked on the print button, and followed him, predatory.
“If I could just?” he prompted, cornering Nicholas between a filing cabinet and the window, the blinds down but open and making thin skittering noises as Nicholas backed into them. As Joseph leaned in.
“Sergeant,” Nicholas said sternly. About as effective as a kitten in a bottle.
Joseph smiled, and leaned closer. “Now Nicholas,” he said in a low voice, “you know that voice doesn’t work on me.” He took another step closer, pressing his body flush against Nicholas’, running his nose along the soft skin of Nicholas cheek. “But you’re welcome to keep trying. If it makes you feel better.”
The shove wasn’t unexpected, although it was certainly more forceful than ever before. Joseph kept his footing, and grinned as Nicholas tried to dart between him and the sharp lines of his desk. He twisted as Nicholas brushed past him, and got a firm hand hooked in the back of his pants, around his belt, jerking Nicholas to a sudden halt. Nicholas turned, trying to shake himself free, but that just gave Joseph a chance to step closer, getting a grip on the back of Nicholas’ stab vest. He heard Nicholas scrabbling to get the vest undone, and waited until he was half out of it before aiming a kick to the back of Nicholas’ knee, and spinning him around while he was off balance.
With his lower back hard against the desk, and Joseph’s hand suddenly wrapping itself in his tie, Nicholas looked panicked. Joseph stepped firmly between Nicholas’ legs, gripping the buckle of Nicholas’ belt firmly, a second anchor on the thrumming body beneath him.
“I know that you tried to file sexual harassment against me,” he said quietly. “And you probably know by now that no one ever saw those forms.”
“I rather hoped that, if you did manage to intercept them, the threat would be enough to convince you to back off,” Nicholas said, his voice calm but his thundering pulse visible under the thin skin of his neck.
“It could have ruined me,” Joseph hissed.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “Then maybe you should have listened every time I told you to stop,” he hissed back.
Joseph snarled, disentangling his hand long enough to give Nicholas a sharp punch below the ribs. Nicholas curled in on himself a little, a sharp cough of pain escaping him. Joseph pressed his mouth hard against Nicholas, grabbing the other man’s tie just below the knot when he tried to pull away. He forced his weight upon Nicholas, pinning him down and yanking his shirt out of his pants. Nicholas twisted, and struck out with his hands, but Joseph’s weight was keeping him off balance, and every time he lifted a hand away from his grip on the edge of the desk, he was forced back a little more, his feet slipping from under him.
“Get off me,” he hissed.
And Joseph had to laugh, a muffled snort falling into place an inch away from Nicholas’ face. “That line has never worked, but you always try it.” He smirked, one hand travelling up Nicholas shirt, thumbing buttons undone. “We’re developing our own little rituals.”
Nicholas twisted and pulled, as if he could somehow just meld his way through the desk and to freedom, the hum of the printer accompanying the small and harsh breaths of distress. The whites of his eyes. “I don’t want this,” he tried.
Joseph’s grin was sharp, greedy hands travelling over the hard edges of Nicholas’ belt as the other man struggled to get his arms free of his stab vest. “That’s rather the point,” he explained as he unclipped Nicholas’ own handcuffs. “You’re going to turn around now.”
“No I’m fucking- Gah!” Nicholas winced as Joseph grabbed his cock harshly, painfully. Joseph stepped back just enough to spin Nicholas around himself, tearing the stab vest away from his arms and immediately restraining them with cold, biting cuffs. He bit down on the temptation to close them tight enough to hurt, tight enough to cut off the blood flow and numb his hands and make Nicholas yelp every time he reached out and yanked at the hinge linking those cold and bright cuffs together.
But that would leave bruises. That would give Nicholas evidence, and the temptation to use it. So the handcuffs clicked shut with just enough room for hands to twist and blood to flow and skin to stretch unbitten. Joseph kicked Nicholas’ feet apart, shoving him forward and keeping him off balance. Nicholas could be a very dangerous man when he got the chance, which explained just enough about this scenario that Joseph could cast his mind over it and feel a fierce burn in his belly, could feel anger and want and all those dark-tasting elements coiling inside him. He put all his weight behind an elbow strike to somewhere around Nicholas’ kidneys, and savoured the feel of bone against skin, the sound of confused pain spilling out of Nicholas’ mouth and scrambling across his desk.
Joseph left Nicholas sprawled, left his hands to drift down toned sides - the mostly unbuttoned shirt hiked up by the way the desk cut into Nicholas’ stomach, would cut into the beautiful arc where leg became hip became body once he got his feet back under him - and move firmly around to the front of Nicholas’ belt. The fastenings of the police belt were so familiar he could probably unclip one in his sleep. The steel buckle of the leather belt beneath was a tad more thrilling - hot where it pressed against Nicholas’ body, cold where the air always touched it, and covered with those thousand tiny scratches that built up over time and wear. The feel of worn leather sliding through it, the low groan from Nicholas as the two ends fell away from one another and Joseph started on the button and clip and zip that held his pants in place. His hands moved like he was undressing himself, just from a distance.
Grinding against Nicholas, pressing himself, and his hardness, and all his sure-footed control against the man who was desperate and struggling and getting nowhere for his troubles. Two pairs of pants, two layers of underwear keeping his erection out of Nicholas. Then his hands were moving, and it was only one pair of pants. And then Nicholas’ skin from his lower back to the middle of his thighs was bare, pale and smooth and still faintly painted with bruises. Stabbed, shot, thrown through a window, beaten, and then suffered the indignity of having a building blow up around him.
“How are you even still alive?” he asked, running a thumb across a darkened stretch of skin, a mar against a perfectly toned and shaded buttock.
“Bad luck,” Nicholas replied bitterly. And then the bitterness faded with each stroke of Joseph’s hands, each occupied hum as he found something new in Nicholas’ skin, something not there before. “Please don’t do this,” he said quietly.
Joseph lifted his hands free, lifted them to his belt buckle and delighted in the way Nicholas stiffened. “What are you going to do when you eventually run out of ways to beg?” he asked idly.
Nicholas let his head fall forwards, his forehead resting on desk and files and little tokens of normalcy. Tokens out of place with the sounds of Joseph’s pants sliding down his legs, the sounds of hands on hips and bodies being lined up. He let out a rough, choked noise as Joseph thrust into him, raw and burning and accompanied by that same low, pleasured moan Joseph always let free. Joseph listened to Nicholas’s first broken noises playing out under his own voice - they would die away soon, becoming stony silence like they always did - splaying a hand over the small of Nicholas’ back as he thrust gently, shallowly.
“You should know to relax by now,” he said, his voice a little distracted by rough breaths and the hot tight feel of Nicholas around him, stretching to accommodate him.
“Fuck off and die,” Nicholas replied dully, his words sinking into the top of Joseph’s desk; his voice hollow, as if Nicholas were someplace far away while this was happening.
Joseph rammed into him, a brutal response that made Nicholas coil, his head finally turning to the side and the half of his face that Joseph could see scrunched in pain, and probably a little anger. Now that the politeness was stripped away, now that it was one body slamming into another and the hard edge of a desk biting into skin Nicholas was forced to organise himself around sharp, deep, stabbing thrusts and blunt fingertips digging into his hips. Shifting his legs so that he was angled higher, the desk now biting into the very joint of his hips like Joseph had known it would. Angling his hips in the hope that it would hurt a little less, be over a little sooner. A hundred shifting muscles admitting their acceptance.
Joseph hooked two fingers around the joint of those clinking handcuffs, like the reins of a horse, or the choker-chain around a snarling dog’s neck. With a firmer grip and the inclination he could yank it back, twisting Nicholas’ arms away from his shoulders, forcing his back to arch and his fingertips to turn white as the cuffs bit into the soft skin at the inside of his wrists. Not that he needed to. Half the high was the domination, and the rest of it was the sure knowledge that he would get away with it. And the entire experience was Nicholas. Nicholas’ tight opening and hot insides and pressing muscles, his tiny noises and little struggles that never achieved anything other than encouragement. His uniform messed, and his body violated, and the way he could never manage to look into Joseph’s eyes afterwards.
Joseph arched a little, the muscles in his back coiling and the lines of his legs tightening. His thrusts became even more disordered, more irregular in rhythm and depth and harshness. The sound of skin slapping against skin and shaky breaths, and a muffled moan silenced by Joseph’s teeth fastening over his bottom lip, his eyes screwed shut as he spilled over into Nicholas, as he thrust with deep finality melding into restrained grinding, pulling out with an almost tender graze of knuckles across the white skin of Nicholas’ lower back. Nicholas let out a near silent moan in response, high in his throat and probably completely unconscious.
Now Joseph gripped the handcuffs, pulling Nicholas upright and turning him around, back flush against the cruel edge of the desk once more. Nicholas’ face was pale, bright red across his cheeks and where his brow had pressed hard against the desk. The healing lines of a fingernail gouge by his eye standing bright and angry against its pale backdrop. Joseph wrapped his fingers around Nicholas’ soft cock, enjoying the exhausted cringe away from him, the attempted retreat of flesh.
“You have a nice voice,” Joseph said, toying with the soft, warm flesh in his hand.
Nicholas’ face twisted, angry and vindictive before he sucked in a deep breath and opened his mouth wide for a yell. “Ra-!”
A yell cut off by Joseph’s fist in his stomach, Joseph’s hand at his neck, forcing him back onto the desk as his free hand rummaged in a desk draw, coming up with a wide roll of tape. Nicholas jerked his head to one side, but Joseph just planted a hand on the side of Nicholas’ head, holding him still while he secured a stretch of tape across his mouth.
Joseph stepped back, and looked down at Nicholas. Mouth taped shut and lying uncomfortably on restrained arms, legs and butt hanging awkwardly off the edge of the desk, pale skin and scrunched pants exposed - his crotch barely obscured by the front corner of Nicholas’ shirt. A striking element of modesty amongst scattered papers and spilt semen. Joseph once more coiled his hand around Nicholas’ still-fastened tie, hauling him upright by that black, silken noose. He rested his hands on Nicholas’ naked thighs, staring hard into Nicholas’ averted eyes.
“You don’t deserve this,” he said, slowly sinking to his knees, nuzzling the near-hairless stretch of inner-thigh. Nicholas shifted - startled but cornered, held in place where Joseph’s knee sank into the pants that were still tangled around Nicholas’ ankles, pinning the black material to the floor.
Nicholas made a sad, muffled noise as Joseph’s tongue stroked its way along foreskin, along soft flesh and dark blond pubic hair. “You really don’t,” Joseph murmured in agreement, before opening his mouth and taking Nicholas’ cock into its moist warmth, sucking gently, carefully. Coaxing an erection with a faux oral apology.
Nicholas made small noises through the tape over his mouth, confused whines as he started getting hard. As Joseph wrapped his hands around the base of Nicholas’ cock taking in as much as he could, his nose pressing against smooth and neat pubic hair; running the tip of his tongue over the flushed head of Nicholas’ cock as he pulled back. Joseph looked up, Nicholas finally meeting his eyes with a confused, broken stare. Deliciously empty. Then Joseph’s nose was against Nicholas’ crotch, and his teeth pressing too hard and sharp against the length of Nicholas’ cock as he pulled back - Nicholas arching and hissing and completely back inside himself as his face crumpled in unexpected pain.
Joseph pressed a hand between Nicholas’ legs, a finger pressing against the abused opening, making Nicholas shift and whine. Joseph pressed a finger inside him, feeling Nicholas’ heavy heat and the slick shift of his own fluids. He licked generously at Nicholas’ cock, his other hand stroking it firmly. A gentle, lasting change. He worked on Nicholas, fingers curling and mouth sweet and gentle. Above him, Nicholas made weak sniffling noises of protest, muffled whines and occasional twitches off his hips as he tried to pull away. But eventually biology won out, and Joseph heard the change of breathing from protesting to needing.
He pulled his mouth away, pulled his fingers away from Nicholas’ tight ring of muscle as he jerked Nicholas’ cock harder. He felt Nicholas’ legs clench, and then his abdomen spasm above him, and then hot semen was flooding out and into the handful of tissues Joseph had ready. Neat, and efficient, and Nicholas was wiped clean and the wad of tissue in the trash before their breathing had evened out.
Joseph fixed his own pants as he stood a little awkwardly, looking down at Nicholas’ bowed head, not managing to obscure red eyes and his dripping nose. Joseph put his hand under Nicholas chin, tilting his face up and kissing him gently through the tape over his mouth. Nicholas glared at him. But it was exhausted, the fight in him leeched away and replaced by a more docile simmering. Joseph tore the tape roughly from Nicholas’ mouth, earning him one last, broken yell. He retrieved the handcuff key from Nicholas’ belt and dropped it into awkward hands.
He left Nicholas to release himself, leaning back against his window and observing with a sudden curious detachment. “Printing’s done,” he said as Nicholas finally got his hands free, rubbing at unmarked wrists while his soft cock hung unattended between parted thighs. Joseph pulled himself out of his slouch, switching his computer monitor off once more as he brushed past his desk. “Turn the lights off when you leave.”
Rating: NC-17 (the first I'm admitting to being NC-17 in this fandom)
Pairing: Angel/Deskjob
Summary: Angel visits London to sort out some paperwork. Deskjob disapproves of this, and puts Nicholas in his place. Rape-fic
Notes: See, this is why I give Deskjob a new name in each of my fics.
Sergeant Joseph Harman frowned at the man leaning over his desk. “I thought I got rid of you,” he said from by his door.
“Back again,” Nicholas replied, leafing through papers. “Where’d you put the forensics roster?”
Joseph stepped over to the desk, and slid a folder out from under half a dozen identical folders. “This your last trip to London then?”
“I certainly hope so,” Nicholas replied, leafing through the folders contents. He frowned. “This isn’t up to date.”
“Yes it is.”
“No,” Nicholas said patiently, “it isn’t. Half these people opted out of Sandford once the bodies started moving.” He looked up with those sharp, tired eyes. “If the Met can’t even keep track of its own people, I don’t know how anyone expects me to.”
Joseph snorted, switching his computer monitor on. It was late, and the floor was pretty much deserted, and once this was sorted out Nicholas would be back in Sandford, never to cast his shadow upon the building again. “You take too much upon yourself, sergeant Angel.” He looked over his shoulder at Nicholas. “I know you get off on exact paperwork, but dragging me in here four hours after I’ve knocked off is a bit excessive.”
Nicholas leant back against the window sill, legs crossed at the ankle as he went back to leafing through the papers. “If you’d done your job and had this all ready for me when I got here, I wouldn’t have to,” he replied absently. “You’ve got the staffing list for the coroner and her assistants wrong to,” he added.
Joseph rolled his eyes, and clicked through various e-mails and files until he found something that resembled up to date information. “These are the most recent records I have,” he said simply. “Anything missing, you’ll have to go drag Coffer in CSI out of bed.”
Nicholas dropped the file on the desk, and bent down, leaning an elbow on the desk as he clicked through the files, too distracted to be tense. Too distracted to notice how close they were. “Looks about right,” he said at last. “If you could just-” he turned his head, cutting himself off when he almost bumped noses with Joseph. He stepped back quickly, stumbling slightly. Joseph clicked on the print button, and followed him, predatory.
“If I could just?” he prompted, cornering Nicholas between a filing cabinet and the window, the blinds down but open and making thin skittering noises as Nicholas backed into them. As Joseph leaned in.
“Sergeant,” Nicholas said sternly. About as effective as a kitten in a bottle.
Joseph smiled, and leaned closer. “Now Nicholas,” he said in a low voice, “you know that voice doesn’t work on me.” He took another step closer, pressing his body flush against Nicholas’, running his nose along the soft skin of Nicholas cheek. “But you’re welcome to keep trying. If it makes you feel better.”
The shove wasn’t unexpected, although it was certainly more forceful than ever before. Joseph kept his footing, and grinned as Nicholas tried to dart between him and the sharp lines of his desk. He twisted as Nicholas brushed past him, and got a firm hand hooked in the back of his pants, around his belt, jerking Nicholas to a sudden halt. Nicholas turned, trying to shake himself free, but that just gave Joseph a chance to step closer, getting a grip on the back of Nicholas’ stab vest. He heard Nicholas scrabbling to get the vest undone, and waited until he was half out of it before aiming a kick to the back of Nicholas’ knee, and spinning him around while he was off balance.
With his lower back hard against the desk, and Joseph’s hand suddenly wrapping itself in his tie, Nicholas looked panicked. Joseph stepped firmly between Nicholas’ legs, gripping the buckle of Nicholas’ belt firmly, a second anchor on the thrumming body beneath him.
“I know that you tried to file sexual harassment against me,” he said quietly. “And you probably know by now that no one ever saw those forms.”
“I rather hoped that, if you did manage to intercept them, the threat would be enough to convince you to back off,” Nicholas said, his voice calm but his thundering pulse visible under the thin skin of his neck.
“It could have ruined me,” Joseph hissed.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “Then maybe you should have listened every time I told you to stop,” he hissed back.
Joseph snarled, disentangling his hand long enough to give Nicholas a sharp punch below the ribs. Nicholas curled in on himself a little, a sharp cough of pain escaping him. Joseph pressed his mouth hard against Nicholas, grabbing the other man’s tie just below the knot when he tried to pull away. He forced his weight upon Nicholas, pinning him down and yanking his shirt out of his pants. Nicholas twisted, and struck out with his hands, but Joseph’s weight was keeping him off balance, and every time he lifted a hand away from his grip on the edge of the desk, he was forced back a little more, his feet slipping from under him.
“Get off me,” he hissed.
And Joseph had to laugh, a muffled snort falling into place an inch away from Nicholas’ face. “That line has never worked, but you always try it.” He smirked, one hand travelling up Nicholas shirt, thumbing buttons undone. “We’re developing our own little rituals.”
Nicholas twisted and pulled, as if he could somehow just meld his way through the desk and to freedom, the hum of the printer accompanying the small and harsh breaths of distress. The whites of his eyes. “I don’t want this,” he tried.
Joseph’s grin was sharp, greedy hands travelling over the hard edges of Nicholas’ belt as the other man struggled to get his arms free of his stab vest. “That’s rather the point,” he explained as he unclipped Nicholas’ own handcuffs. “You’re going to turn around now.”
“No I’m fucking- Gah!” Nicholas winced as Joseph grabbed his cock harshly, painfully. Joseph stepped back just enough to spin Nicholas around himself, tearing the stab vest away from his arms and immediately restraining them with cold, biting cuffs. He bit down on the temptation to close them tight enough to hurt, tight enough to cut off the blood flow and numb his hands and make Nicholas yelp every time he reached out and yanked at the hinge linking those cold and bright cuffs together.
But that would leave bruises. That would give Nicholas evidence, and the temptation to use it. So the handcuffs clicked shut with just enough room for hands to twist and blood to flow and skin to stretch unbitten. Joseph kicked Nicholas’ feet apart, shoving him forward and keeping him off balance. Nicholas could be a very dangerous man when he got the chance, which explained just enough about this scenario that Joseph could cast his mind over it and feel a fierce burn in his belly, could feel anger and want and all those dark-tasting elements coiling inside him. He put all his weight behind an elbow strike to somewhere around Nicholas’ kidneys, and savoured the feel of bone against skin, the sound of confused pain spilling out of Nicholas’ mouth and scrambling across his desk.
Joseph left Nicholas sprawled, left his hands to drift down toned sides - the mostly unbuttoned shirt hiked up by the way the desk cut into Nicholas’ stomach, would cut into the beautiful arc where leg became hip became body once he got his feet back under him - and move firmly around to the front of Nicholas’ belt. The fastenings of the police belt were so familiar he could probably unclip one in his sleep. The steel buckle of the leather belt beneath was a tad more thrilling - hot where it pressed against Nicholas’ body, cold where the air always touched it, and covered with those thousand tiny scratches that built up over time and wear. The feel of worn leather sliding through it, the low groan from Nicholas as the two ends fell away from one another and Joseph started on the button and clip and zip that held his pants in place. His hands moved like he was undressing himself, just from a distance.
Grinding against Nicholas, pressing himself, and his hardness, and all his sure-footed control against the man who was desperate and struggling and getting nowhere for his troubles. Two pairs of pants, two layers of underwear keeping his erection out of Nicholas. Then his hands were moving, and it was only one pair of pants. And then Nicholas’ skin from his lower back to the middle of his thighs was bare, pale and smooth and still faintly painted with bruises. Stabbed, shot, thrown through a window, beaten, and then suffered the indignity of having a building blow up around him.
“How are you even still alive?” he asked, running a thumb across a darkened stretch of skin, a mar against a perfectly toned and shaded buttock.
“Bad luck,” Nicholas replied bitterly. And then the bitterness faded with each stroke of Joseph’s hands, each occupied hum as he found something new in Nicholas’ skin, something not there before. “Please don’t do this,” he said quietly.
Joseph lifted his hands free, lifted them to his belt buckle and delighted in the way Nicholas stiffened. “What are you going to do when you eventually run out of ways to beg?” he asked idly.
Nicholas let his head fall forwards, his forehead resting on desk and files and little tokens of normalcy. Tokens out of place with the sounds of Joseph’s pants sliding down his legs, the sounds of hands on hips and bodies being lined up. He let out a rough, choked noise as Joseph thrust into him, raw and burning and accompanied by that same low, pleasured moan Joseph always let free. Joseph listened to Nicholas’s first broken noises playing out under his own voice - they would die away soon, becoming stony silence like they always did - splaying a hand over the small of Nicholas’ back as he thrust gently, shallowly.
“You should know to relax by now,” he said, his voice a little distracted by rough breaths and the hot tight feel of Nicholas around him, stretching to accommodate him.
“Fuck off and die,” Nicholas replied dully, his words sinking into the top of Joseph’s desk; his voice hollow, as if Nicholas were someplace far away while this was happening.
Joseph rammed into him, a brutal response that made Nicholas coil, his head finally turning to the side and the half of his face that Joseph could see scrunched in pain, and probably a little anger. Now that the politeness was stripped away, now that it was one body slamming into another and the hard edge of a desk biting into skin Nicholas was forced to organise himself around sharp, deep, stabbing thrusts and blunt fingertips digging into his hips. Shifting his legs so that he was angled higher, the desk now biting into the very joint of his hips like Joseph had known it would. Angling his hips in the hope that it would hurt a little less, be over a little sooner. A hundred shifting muscles admitting their acceptance.
Joseph hooked two fingers around the joint of those clinking handcuffs, like the reins of a horse, or the choker-chain around a snarling dog’s neck. With a firmer grip and the inclination he could yank it back, twisting Nicholas’ arms away from his shoulders, forcing his back to arch and his fingertips to turn white as the cuffs bit into the soft skin at the inside of his wrists. Not that he needed to. Half the high was the domination, and the rest of it was the sure knowledge that he would get away with it. And the entire experience was Nicholas. Nicholas’ tight opening and hot insides and pressing muscles, his tiny noises and little struggles that never achieved anything other than encouragement. His uniform messed, and his body violated, and the way he could never manage to look into Joseph’s eyes afterwards.
Joseph arched a little, the muscles in his back coiling and the lines of his legs tightening. His thrusts became even more disordered, more irregular in rhythm and depth and harshness. The sound of skin slapping against skin and shaky breaths, and a muffled moan silenced by Joseph’s teeth fastening over his bottom lip, his eyes screwed shut as he spilled over into Nicholas, as he thrust with deep finality melding into restrained grinding, pulling out with an almost tender graze of knuckles across the white skin of Nicholas’ lower back. Nicholas let out a near silent moan in response, high in his throat and probably completely unconscious.
Now Joseph gripped the handcuffs, pulling Nicholas upright and turning him around, back flush against the cruel edge of the desk once more. Nicholas’ face was pale, bright red across his cheeks and where his brow had pressed hard against the desk. The healing lines of a fingernail gouge by his eye standing bright and angry against its pale backdrop. Joseph wrapped his fingers around Nicholas’ soft cock, enjoying the exhausted cringe away from him, the attempted retreat of flesh.
“You have a nice voice,” Joseph said, toying with the soft, warm flesh in his hand.
Nicholas’ face twisted, angry and vindictive before he sucked in a deep breath and opened his mouth wide for a yell. “Ra-!”
A yell cut off by Joseph’s fist in his stomach, Joseph’s hand at his neck, forcing him back onto the desk as his free hand rummaged in a desk draw, coming up with a wide roll of tape. Nicholas jerked his head to one side, but Joseph just planted a hand on the side of Nicholas’ head, holding him still while he secured a stretch of tape across his mouth.
Joseph stepped back, and looked down at Nicholas. Mouth taped shut and lying uncomfortably on restrained arms, legs and butt hanging awkwardly off the edge of the desk, pale skin and scrunched pants exposed - his crotch barely obscured by the front corner of Nicholas’ shirt. A striking element of modesty amongst scattered papers and spilt semen. Joseph once more coiled his hand around Nicholas’ still-fastened tie, hauling him upright by that black, silken noose. He rested his hands on Nicholas’ naked thighs, staring hard into Nicholas’ averted eyes.
“You don’t deserve this,” he said, slowly sinking to his knees, nuzzling the near-hairless stretch of inner-thigh. Nicholas shifted - startled but cornered, held in place where Joseph’s knee sank into the pants that were still tangled around Nicholas’ ankles, pinning the black material to the floor.
Nicholas made a sad, muffled noise as Joseph’s tongue stroked its way along foreskin, along soft flesh and dark blond pubic hair. “You really don’t,” Joseph murmured in agreement, before opening his mouth and taking Nicholas’ cock into its moist warmth, sucking gently, carefully. Coaxing an erection with a faux oral apology.
Nicholas made small noises through the tape over his mouth, confused whines as he started getting hard. As Joseph wrapped his hands around the base of Nicholas’ cock taking in as much as he could, his nose pressing against smooth and neat pubic hair; running the tip of his tongue over the flushed head of Nicholas’ cock as he pulled back. Joseph looked up, Nicholas finally meeting his eyes with a confused, broken stare. Deliciously empty. Then Joseph’s nose was against Nicholas’ crotch, and his teeth pressing too hard and sharp against the length of Nicholas’ cock as he pulled back - Nicholas arching and hissing and completely back inside himself as his face crumpled in unexpected pain.
Joseph pressed a hand between Nicholas’ legs, a finger pressing against the abused opening, making Nicholas shift and whine. Joseph pressed a finger inside him, feeling Nicholas’ heavy heat and the slick shift of his own fluids. He licked generously at Nicholas’ cock, his other hand stroking it firmly. A gentle, lasting change. He worked on Nicholas, fingers curling and mouth sweet and gentle. Above him, Nicholas made weak sniffling noises of protest, muffled whines and occasional twitches off his hips as he tried to pull away. But eventually biology won out, and Joseph heard the change of breathing from protesting to needing.
He pulled his mouth away, pulled his fingers away from Nicholas’ tight ring of muscle as he jerked Nicholas’ cock harder. He felt Nicholas’ legs clench, and then his abdomen spasm above him, and then hot semen was flooding out and into the handful of tissues Joseph had ready. Neat, and efficient, and Nicholas was wiped clean and the wad of tissue in the trash before their breathing had evened out.
Joseph fixed his own pants as he stood a little awkwardly, looking down at Nicholas’ bowed head, not managing to obscure red eyes and his dripping nose. Joseph put his hand under Nicholas chin, tilting his face up and kissing him gently through the tape over his mouth. Nicholas glared at him. But it was exhausted, the fight in him leeched away and replaced by a more docile simmering. Joseph tore the tape roughly from Nicholas’ mouth, earning him one last, broken yell. He retrieved the handcuff key from Nicholas’ belt and dropped it into awkward hands.
He left Nicholas to release himself, leaning back against his window and observing with a sudden curious detachment. “Printing’s done,” he said as Nicholas finally got his hands free, rubbing at unmarked wrists while his soft cock hung unattended between parted thighs. Joseph pulled himself out of his slouch, switching his computer monitor off once more as he brushed past his desk. “Turn the lights off when you leave.”