âCEO Johnâ
Working Title: âCEO JohnâÂ
âThere are the cold Autumn mornings when John picks me up in his slate grey suit, sleek black matt Audi. Always opens the passenger door for me. Always with a palm to my waist, guiding me in. Always a gentleman. But heâs quiet. Not shy but reserved in a way that gives an air of stillness to our morning drives. A steadfast confidence, a sign that he will keep me like this. Keep us like this.âÂ
â Genre: Romance Â
â Status: Planning - a NanoWriMo WIP
â Themes: - ? -
â Warnings: 18 + only. This will be an 18 plus story so no one under 18 please.
Authorâs note: This wonât be a fic from âstart to finishâ because I will be posting drabbles as I come up with and build up ideas for CEO John. To see if I can come up with enough to start NanoWriMo 2022.Â
âCEO JOHNâ MASTERLIST | ASCU Masterlist | Homelander Masterlist
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Expensive leather interiors. Cream seats. My passenger door shuts and he sits in the front. I donât see his face, only hear his voice, the few words that he says.
âThe razor is there. Use it now.â He sits in silence after, his knee wrapped in gray suiting, the back of his head trimmed neat exposing his neck, an arm of his glasses and his hand on his knee, turning his wrist to adjust his cuff links. I hear him, but hesitate at his request. Itâs not normal. Not here.
âI can go in.â
âNo, here.â He tilts his mirror down. âDo it here.â
I shuffle against the leather, reaching for the razor. âWhere are we going?â
âDo this first.â
If I lean up to the back of his seat I will smell his cologne. I do. âBut thereâs no water.â I say.
He reaches an arm behind, his fingers trailing under my knee. He picks up my leg, stretching it forward over the central panel, onto his lap, the knee that is visible to me. My heel rests on his inner thigh. Sliding patent against his suit. Iâm still seeing the back of his head, the contours of his silhouette, with glimpses of his hands, cuffs, glasses and jawline. Clean, smooth. He wants me smoother.
âThat bad?â I say.
âNot bad, beautiful, but I need you pristine. Like the rest of you.â He brushes me with foam and water, bristles against my skin. Soothing, tickly. He takes his time. He unfolds a towel from the glove box. Pristinely folded. The razor glides and he dries me.
His voice is utter calm. His words are reserved too. âLet me.â
I glide my other heeled foot into place, on his leg where he holds my ankle. The car smells of his morning routine. Menâs aftershave, leather. Packaging clicks and the dim lighting reflects off the gold plate of the Tom Ford bottle. He sprays, dipping his finger in fragrance, wiping it slowly, sensually up my leg. Trailing fingers up to the inside of my knee, hooking under and lifting to his lips. He place a gentle kiss there. Lingering.
I finally see his face as heâs turning to me. Poker. Sexy. His usual.
I inhale and itâs divine. Like a cocktail glass, spilled over the car in a moment of lust. Broken crystal. Clothes over the seats. His gray suit trousers. But itâs not lust Iâm here for.
I sit in the back seat thinking of him spilling a very strong vintage drink down me, splashing down my legs, him licking them clean as I let him go higher.
He gets in next to me, admiring his handiwork, caressing my legs from the top of my foot up. His eyes have a calm spark. Almost casual. Like nothing is amiss. Nothing is sensual. Charged.
The cuff links are cold against my upper thigh. Iâm watching his eyes. He smiles softly.
âI donât think you should -â Â I say.
âYou donât want me to. Then I wonâtâ he says. Stroking my legs once more before getting back into the driving seat.
He quietly watches me through his mirror as I fantasize about what I want him to do.
