#empire lucious

The glass doors of Empire Entertainment hissed open, and (Y/N) stepped into the polished lobby, the cacophony of New York fading behind her. She clutched her portfolio, the leather cool against her sweaty palms. Today was the day. Assistant to Lucious Lyon. It still sounded surreal.

(Y/N) was twenty-six, a recent MBA graduate with a sharp mind and a fire in her belly. She’d always been drawn to the music industry, and Empire was the pinnacle. Lucious Lyon was a legend, a titan, a lyrical genius who’d built an empire from the ground up. And, admittedly, she found him devastatingly attractive. The way he moved, the commanding presence, the gravelly voice that sounded like velvet over steel – it was magnetic.

The elevator whisked her to the executive floor. As she approached his office, the low thrum of bass vibrated through the walls. A new track, probably. She took a deep breath and straightened her skirt. 

The door was ajar. She knocked softly. “Mr. Lyon?”

A voice, deep and resonant, rumbled from within. “Come in.”

Lucious was sitting at his expansive desk, surrounded by monitors displaying waveforms and lyrics. He was even more imposing in person. His dark eyes, sharp and intelligent, flicked up to meet hers.

“Ms. (Y/LN), right? Welcome to the jungle.” He leaned back, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hope you’re ready to work.”

The next few weeks were a blur of meetings, calls, and paperwork. (Y/N) was constantly on her toes, anticipating Lucious's needs, managing his schedule, and learning the intricate workings of Empire. He was demanding, expecting perfection, but he also possessed a shrewd wit and a surprising generosity.

He’d often call her into his office just to bounce ideas off her, seeking her opinion on everything from album art to marketing strategies. Their conversations would often veer off track, touching on everything from their favorite artists to the state of the music industry. (Y/N) found herself drawn to his intelligence, his passion, and the vulnerability that occasionally peeked through his hardened exterior.

The sexual tension was palpable. It was in the way he’d hold her gaze a beat too long, the subtle brush of his hand against hers when he handed her a file, the low, teasing comments he’d murmur under his breath.

One evening, as (Y/N) was organizing his schedule for a charity gala, Lucious leaned back in his chair, studying her. “You know, (Y/N),” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you have a way of making even the most mundane tasks…interesting.”

(Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat. She met his gaze, a nervous smile playing on her lips. “Is that a compliment, Mr. Lyon?”

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. “Take it any way you want, baby girl.”

He called her "baby girl" often. It shouldn't have thrilled her as much as it did.

The gala was a whirlwind of flashing lights, champagne, and forced smiles. (Y/N) stayed close to Lucious, navigating the crowded ballroom, deflecting unwanted attention, and ensuring everything ran smoothly.

Later, as the party began to wind down, they found themselves by the pool, the city lights twinkling like scattered diamonds. Lucious had removed his jacket and loosened his tie, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of his chest.

He took a sip of his whiskey. “Tired, (Y/N)?”

“A little,” she admitted, feeling the weight of the evening settle on her shoulders.

He stepped closer, his presence radiating heat. “You did good tonight. Real good.” He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. “You’re a natural, baby girl. You know that?”

Her breath caught in her throat. The proximity was intoxicating. She could feel his gaze burning into her, stripping away her composure.

Suddenly, a reporter approached, camera flashing. Lucious immediately straightened, his expression hardening. He pulled away from (Y/N), the moment broken.

Jealousy, a sharp and unfamiliar pang, stabbed through her. She knew he was a public figure, but seeing him compartmentalize her, dismiss her so easily in front of others, stung.

Back in the office, the tension only amplified. Lucious seemed to be testing her, pushing her buttons, his comments laced with double entendres.

One afternoon, he was working on a new track, a raw, gritty anthem about power and desire. He called (Y/N) in to get her opinion.

The lyrics were explicit, the beat pulsing with a primal energy. As Lucious rapped, his voice dripping with sensuality, (Y/N) felt a flush creep up her neck. The words were aimed at her, she knew it.

“She walks in the room, head held high, Eyes like fire, burning in the sky. She thinks she can handle the heat, the game, But I’m about to whisper her goddamn name…

…And show her what it means to be owned, consumed, By a king who knows exactly what he’ll do…”

He stopped, his gaze locking with hers. “What do you think, (Y/N)? Does it resonate?”

She swallowed, her throat dry. “It’s…powerful, Mr. Lyon.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Powerful enough to make you wet, baby girl?”

She gasped, her cheeks burning. He had no right to speak to her like that. But a part of her, a secret, shameful part, thrilled at his audacity.

(Y/N) started avoiding him. She made excuses to be out of the office, burying herself in work, desperate to regain control. But Lucious wouldn’t let her escape. He’d find her in the conference room, corner her by the water cooler, his presence a constant reminder of the simmering desire between them.

One evening, she was working late, the only light in the office coming from her computer screen. She was exhausted, frustrated, and desperately horny. The memory of Lucious’s lyrics, his voice, his gaze, kept replaying in her mind.

She closed her laptop, her body aching with need. She ran a hand down her body, over her breasts, down past her stomach. She imagined Lucious's hands there, his long fingers spreading her open, exploring her.

She reached for the vibrator in her purse…

The door clicked open.

Lucious stood there, silhouetted against the hallway light. His eyes raked over her, taking in her disheveled appearance, the flush on her cheeks.

“Working late, (Y/N)?” His voice was dangerously low.

She quickly turned away, embarrassed. “Just finishing up some things.”

He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. The click echoed in the silence. He walked towards her, his movements deliberate, predatory.

“Don’t lie to me, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I can smell your arousal from across the room.”

He reached out, grabbing her hand. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. His hands were large, calloused, infinitely capable.

He pulled her closer, his body pressing against hers. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the hardness pressing against her thigh.

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

(Y/N) froze, her mind racing. She knew she should stop this. She knew it was wrong. He was her boss, decades older than her. 

But God, she wanted him.

“I…” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

He tightened his grip on her hand, his gaze intense. “Tell me, (Y/N). Tell me what your body craves.”

She closed her eyes, surrendering to the desire that had been building between them for weeks.

“You,” she whispered, the word barely audible. “I want you.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Now, let's see if you can handle what you asked for."

He kissed her then, a deep, possessive kiss that stole her breath away. His tongue plunged into her mouth, exploring every corner, claiming her as his own. She moaned softly, surrendering to the pleasure.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, (Y/N).” He trailed kisses down her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin. “A long goddamn time.”

He lifted her onto his desk, his hands roaming over her body, exploring her curves, teasing her nipples through her blouse. She arched her back, moaning, her body begging for release.

He unbuttoned her blouse, his gaze burning into her as he revealed her lacy bra. He reached out, his fingers tracing the outline of her breasts, teasing her nipples until they were hard and erect.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “You are so goddamn beautiful.”

He leaned in, sucking one nipple through the lace, his tongue teasing and tormenting her until she cried out. He moved to the other breast, repeating the torture until she was writhing on the desk, begging for more.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire. He reached down, unzipping her skirt, his fingers brushing against her skin. She gasped, her body trembling with anticipation.

He slid her skirt down her legs, revealing her silk panties. He reached down, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips, teasing the edge of her panties.

“You’re wet, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice husky. “So wet for me.”

He slipped his fingers beneath the elastic, parting her lips, exploring her with slow, deliberate strokes. She moaned, her body arching against his touch. She was so sensitive, so close to the edge.

He continued to tease her, his fingers working their magic until she was on the verge of orgasm. She cried out, her body shaking with pleasure.

He stopped suddenly, his eyes burning into hers. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Not until I’m inside you.”

He stepped back, unbuckling his belt, his gaze never leaving hers. He pulled out his cock, his size making her gasp, her mind reeling. It was thick, long, and throbbing with desire.

He reached for her again, guiding her hand to his cock. She wrapped her fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from him, the pulsing of his veins.

“You like that, baby girl?” he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

She nodded, her throat dry.

He guided her hand up and down, his cock growing harder with each stroke. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the pleasure.

He pulled her hand away, his eyes burning into hers. He reached for her panties, tearing them off in one swift motion. He lifted her legs, placing them on his shoulders.

He positioned himself between her legs, his cock throbbing against her entrance. He paused, his eyes searching hers.

“Ready, (Y/N)?” he murmured.

She nodded, her body trembling with anticipation.

He pushed into her, slowly, deliberately, filling her with his size. She gasped, her body arching against his.

He continued to push deeper, until he was completely inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him tight.

He began to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster. She moaned, her body writhing against his.

He gripped her hips, driving into her with a primal force. She cried out, her body shaking with pleasure.

He continued to fuck her, harder and harder, until she was on the verge of orgasm. She cried out his name, her body convulsing with pleasure.

He thrust into her one last time, his body exploding with release. He collapsed on top of her, his breath ragged.

They lay there for a long moment, tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat.

Finally, he pulled back, his eyes searching hers.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” he murmured.

She nodded, her body still trembling.

He smiled, a slow, satisfied smile.

“Good girl,” he said. “You were amazing.”

He kissed her again, a soft, tender kiss.

“But this doesn't change anything,” he said, pulling away. “This stays between us. Understand?”

She nodded, her heart sinking. She knew he was right. This was a mistake.

But God, it was a beautiful mistake.

The following days were fraught with a new kind of tension. The air crackled with unspoken desires, with the memory of their forbidden encounter. (Y/N) was torn between wanting to run and wanting to fall into his arms again. Lucious, meanwhile, seemed to revel in the power he held over her, his gaze lingering, his touch electric, always just a hair's breadth away from escalating. The slow burn was agonizing, and she knew, deep down, that this couldn't last. Something had to break and soon.

A/n my first empire story!