#demaraisc

There used to be a rule. “No sex at work.” They’d put it in place at the beginning of this…whatever it was. It lasted all of a week before Adam walked in on James on his knees under Lawrence’s desk. By the time Joel arrived, Lawrence was reclining in his chair with his fly undone, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as James crawled over to Adam.  Then Spoole walked in and, well, it really devolved from there. So now there’s a “no sex at work, if at all possible” suggestion. It includes “some of us still have to work dammit, take it outside,” and “Bruce has final say,” which is great for Bruce in situations such as this, because even though he’s technically the boss, and he should be focused, he loves fucking with his boys, especially when it involves fucking with his boys.

Matt’s having a quiet day, even for Matt. No one could persuade him to say more a couple of sentences during the podcast, and he hasn’t spoken a word outside of filming all day, hunched over his keyboard, occasionally smacking the table when his programme crashes for the second, third, fourth fucking time that day. It’s nearing 5 o’clock when this last crash of frustration echoes round the office, and Bruce decides that he and Matt can call it a day. He saves his progress, switches off his computer and walks back to Matt’s desk. None of the other boys look up from their monitors. ‘So well trained’ thinks Bruce fondly.  

“Hey,” he says softly. Matt looks up, and even without saying anything the look in his big brown eyes speaks volumes to his frustration. “Come here.” Bruce pulls Matt to his feet, kissing the pout off his face. “You’re done for the day.” His voice drops and his smile turns wicked. “You and I are going to play a game.” He kisses Matt again, reaching up to push a truly hideous hoodie off his shoulders. Bruce crowds Matt back against the wall, forcing Matt up on to his toes so he can kiss him long and slow. Fingers skitter under Matt’s t-shirt, tracing round his abs, up through thick chest hair and back down to pinch at pebbled nipples. The soft gasp Matt emits is the first noise Bruce has heard him make in hours, and he’s determined to hear more. He tells Matt as much, murmuring in to his ear. “Yeah, Baby, keep making those noises. You make such pretty noises, Peake, and I haven’t heard you all day. We’re going to see how long it takes before the others hear you, okay? Don’t hold back on me now.” He pinches again, quickly following with a soothing tongue. Matt lets out a shuddering moan, hands coming up to grip Bruce’s hair. “That’s it baby.” Bruce pushes Matt’s shirt up and over his head so he can bite the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder, pulling forth a tiny whine.

None of the noises Matt has made so far are loud enough for anyone else to hear, Bruce can only just make them out himself. He’s going to have to up his game. He pulls back long enough to pull off his own shirt. Matt’s hair is mussed from where it’s been pushed against the wall, and his breathing is slightly laboured. His lips are bee stung and there’s a pink bite mark blooming on his neck. He’s so fucking beautiful and Bruce wants him so badly. He steps closer to undo Matt’s belt, slowly, slowly pulling down his zip, pressing down on the hard-on he can feel growing under his hand. “You enjoying this Baby? Getting hard for me?” Matt makes tiny little thrusts into Bruce’s hand and nods, but doesn’t say anything. “Undo my shorts for me, yeah that’s it, feel how hard I am for you?” Bruce whispers, curling over his tiny lover; crowding him against the wall. Matt whimpers his response and obeys, feeling the hard length of Bruce’s cock through his boxers. “Fuck, yeah Baby, feel so good. Come here.” He pushes down Matt’s pants and underwear, pulls him back down into the chair so he’s straddling Bruce’s lap, his back to Bruce’s chest.

A ragged whine escapes Matt’s lips as he realises, spread out as he is over Bruce’s thick thighs, that his feet can’t touch the floor. He wriggles in distress until he feels Bruce’s cock hard underneath him, and almost of their own accord his hips start rocking in an entirely different way. From this position he can see the other boys, all still engrossed in their individual activities. “We shouldn’t have bought the good headphones, huh?” Bruce chuckles in his ear. “Doesn’t matter, just means I’m going to have to make you scream louder…” He returns his attention to the bite mark he left earlier, finding the teeth marks again with clinical accuracy, sinking his teeth down into the sweat-slicked skin on Matt’s neck, sucking a deep purple hickey into the middle of the scarlet ring.

“A-aaAH!” Matt cries, hands flying up in an aborted motion, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure of what to do.

Bruce interlaces their fingers and brings both their hands down to stroke the sensitive skin of Matt’s thighs. Gliding whisper soft (and slowly, so slowly), up over quivering muscles, stopping just short of where Matt needs them to be, before reversing their direction, cycling up and down in a smooth, lazy rhythm. 

Matt’s caught between the bright, sharp pain in his neck, and the caresses he can barely feel, and yet feel far too keenly, on his thighs. It’s maddening. It’s glorious. He tries, once, to pull his hands out of Bruce’s grip, to touch himself like he needs so badly, but Bruce won’t let go, tugs his hands away and bites at the other side of his neck almost viciously.

“Ah, ah” he chastises. But he rolls his hips as he does so, making sure Matt hears the moan of satisfaction he lets slip at the delicious friction on his own cock. Matt lets his head fall back, baring his throat to Bruce’s onslaught as his hips rock desperately. His mouth falls open in a ragged groan. Bruce lets go of one hand, runs a single finger up over Matt’s balls, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock where it lies red and leaking on to his stomach, up to the drooling tip.

“Please.” Bruce hears the break in Matt’s voice over a single syllable, and he grins triumphantly.

“What was that, Baby? I can’t hear you.”

“Please. I need-” Matt sobs as Bruce swipes his thumb over the head of his cock. “I need you to- I need your-”

Whatever he is going to say is cut off as Bruce pushes three fingers in his mouth at once.

“Get them nice and wet for me Baby, gonna open you up nice and slow.” Matt can do nothing but whine through his nose, laving at the thick fingers with his tongue until there’s spit dripping down his chin.

Bruce flicks his eyes upwards. James’ screen is the stark black of his editing programme with no files open. Bruce can see himself and Matt, cut off at the chest, in one screen, and James’ slack-jawed stare in the other. His meets James’ gaze and smirks, before turning his head to nibble at Matt’s ear, the way he had at James’ last night. He sees more than hears the groan James lets out, but it sparks Adam’s attention, whose head turns to look at James, confused, before continuing round until he spots what’s happening at the back of the room. Bruce purses his lips in a silent “Sssh,” flicking his eyes towards the other three. Adam nods, slowly spinning his chair round to where his head is facing, and presses the heel of his hand against his crotch.

“We’ve got an audience,” Bruce murmurs as he moves his hand down, spreading his legs for better access. He relishes in the soft little gasps Matt makes, first at the feel of being spread open and the realisation that he’s on display for all to see, secondly at the first touch of an air-cooled finger against his bared entrance. “Oh!” Bruce taps teasingly against the puckered skin until Matt’s making little jerky movements, trying to get it in. He wiggles in up to the first knuckle, making tiny little circles that Matt tries to follow with his hips. They can all hear the sob Matt lets out when he pulls out, and when he immediately push all the way back in, the sob is drawn out into a keening moan that the other three men feel in a shiver down their spine. Bruce can’t see James’ hands from behind the computer, but Adam unbuckles his belt and shoves his hand inside. The movement finally catches Joel’s attention, who pulls of his headphone to ask “Adam, what-” before he’s shushed with a hand that points to the obscene tableau going on behind them. Joel takes in the sight; eyes following the deep purple bruising, the flushed chest and pink nipples begging for attention, down to the sticky trails of precum and finally to where Bruce’s finger disappears into Matt’s body. Bruce spins the chair slightly to give Joel a better view. Matt chokes to be so on display and screws up his eyes. Little “auh, auh, auh” noises are pushed from his throat as Bruce pumps the single digit in and out.

“Such pretty sounds you make for us Matt. But we all know a finger’s not enough to fill you, is it?” He slowly withdraws said finger until just the tip is inside.

“No,” Matt agrees, and then he appears to get stuck on repeat, a litany of “no no no no no” spilling from his tongue as Bruce adds a second finger, pulling at Matt’s rim and scissoring wide. James practically falls out his chair in an effort to get a better view and moves to kneel next to Joel, who reaches down absentmindedly to tug on James’ hair.

“Let everybody see you Baby, see your pretty pink hole open up for me. You’re going to feel so good around my cock; they’re all jealous, look at them. Look at them Matt. Open your eyes and watch.”

“No no no no,” Matt whimpers even as he obeys, forcing his eyes open.

Oh god, they’re all looking at him, gazes focused on where he can feel himself open and on display. His legs try to close just on reflex, but he’s got no leverage, spread out as he is, and Bruce easily withstands the motion, going so far as to spread them an inch more as he pulls back and adds a third finger. Then Joel’s eyes flick upwards, locking gazes and oh that’s so much worse. Matt’s no’s  turn into breathless noises. It’s awful. He loves it.

Bruce puts his fingers together and thrusts deep, crooks them and the sob stuck in Matt’s throat breaks free. Bruce strokes his prostate over and over and over, until Matt is outright writhing. His free hand, which has been digging crescent marks into his own thigh, wraps around his cock.

“No.” Bruce scolds. “Let go Matt.”

“Please…”

“No. Let go, Peake. Now.”

The noise Matt lets out is truly desperate. The three voyeurs wince in sympathy as they watch Matt reluctantly let go a finger at a time, and give themselves a reassuring stroke.

“You have lube in your draw?” Because yes, they all do, but who knows if Matt has run out or not? Matt leans forward as best he can, opening the draw with shaking hands, fumbling around until he draws out a sachet. He makes to pass it back, but Bruce stops him. “No, I want you to put it on me.” He releases Matt’s other hand and withdraws his fingers to help tip Matt forwards and lift his hips. Matt clumsily rips open the packet, squeezing out the contents. He reaches back, blindly stroking until he hears Bruce groaning. He catches Adam’s eye and smirks, giving one last twisting stroke. “Uuhhh, that’s good Baby, that’s enough. Lean back again, I want everyone to see you taking my cock.”

“O-ohh!” comes the desperate noise from across the room. Bruce looks up to see Sean and Lawrence  have finally realised what’s going on. They’re sitting in a parody of Bruce and Matt: Sean sitting sideways on Lawrence’s lap. Both their flies are undone and they’ve got hands stuffed down each other’s pants.

“Welcome to the party.”

“Thanks for starting without us, asshole.”

Bruce gives a smile that’s not the least bit contrite and cups his hands underneath Matt’s thighs, lifting him up and lining his cock up with Matt’s twitching hole. He pushes until his head pops inside, forcing a cry out of Matt that gets every man in the room bucking into his fist. Five pairs of glazed eyes hungrily watch as Matt sinks down on Bruce’s cock.

Matt’s dying. He can’t move himself at all, he’s impaled on Bruce’s cock, entirely dependent on him for any movement up or down. He wants to bury his face in Bruce’s neck, wants to scream and cry and beg, but his body is incapable of making a decision either way and so he’s stuck, thrashing his head from side to side and whimpering breathily for Bruce to please do…something anything he doesn’t knowww. Bruce is slowly lifting Matt up god he’s so strong, holding him at the top of the stroke and rolling his hips, before lowering him back down again. He’s in the middle of one of these rotations when his hands slip, and Matt slams back down on several inches of what feels like flesh covered steel. He screams and arches his back at being so suddenly, so completely and brutally full, but Bruce hisses “fuck yeah” in his ear and lifts him back up only to drop him down again and again, punching wails out of the shorter man each time he bottoms out.

“Bruce. Bruce please let me touch myself please. Oh god! Oh please Bruce I need it, I need to come I need to come I need to come!”

“Yeah go on Baby, touch yourself, make yourself come. Let everybody see how fucking beautiful you look when you’re coming.”

With a sob of relief Matt grips his cock and starts stroking frantically, reaching the other hand up to pinch his neglected nipples, letting out little mm noises with every stroke and pinch. Five other hands speed up too, and Lawrence sets about giving Sean a matching bite mark on his neck.

“Uuh-AAH!” Matt shrieks as he starts to come. Bruce picks him up and hold his there, jackhammering upwards for One. Two. Three more thrusts before slamming Matt down one last time and holding him there as they both shake through their orgasm. Hot come spills over Matt’s hand, dripping down between his shivering, aching thighs.

The room is silent but for shuddering breathing as everyone comes down from the high. Bruce closes his legs but doesn’t pull out, and Matt lets out one last whimper at the jostling movement against hyper-sensitive walls.

“Can you stand?” Bruce asks.

“Fuck no,” Matt huffs a laugh. “You fucking made sure of that. Seriously, someone’s going to have to carry me home.”