#request inferno

Without the presence of anyone else in his office high above everything else, another moan rips through your throat, you speak in your own mind in affirmation, swearing you hate this man and his large cock that was ramming inside of you from behind.

“H-How… dare you insult my company like that..?” you tried to contend again, like he wasn’t holding your hip with one hand, making your legs shake, as if your skirt wasn’t pulled down to your ankles. 

“In front of everyone, no less—fuck!” All you could do was press both hands against the glass, trying to find purchase.

He had to giggle, of course he did, watching your pathetic attesting, not giving up fucking the attitude out of you. “Hmm? You’re still mad at that?”

You tried to look back and give a nasty look, “Of course I am-”

Julian's grip tightened in your hair, yanking just enough to make you gasp. He laughed a low, dangerous hum against your ear. "Mad? This is how you act when you're mad?" His hips snapped forward again, punctuating the question with brutal precision.  

The glass fogged further under your palms as he leaned over you, his breath hot and unsteady despite his usual control. "You’re such a liar," he muttered, half-annoyed, half-thrilled by it as one hand slid around to dig into the softness of your throat without pressure, at least not yet. 

He nipped at the shell of your ear before growling: “Won’t you forgive me for that, beautiful?” he asked, all condescending as if you could really forgive him.

“I hate you.” you quarreled, feeling him snap his hips forward mercilessly. A yelp erupts from your mouth when he raises the hand on your hip, his palm landing with stinging pain on the side of your ass. The sharp crack of his palm against your skin echoed in the office as Julian smirked with pure wicked satisfaction.

"You hate me?" He leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear like a lover’s whisper while his other hand stayed poised midair, threatening another strike if you dared to keep talking shit.

His free hand slid up to fist tighter in your hair just shy from painful. You whined, close to the precipice of pleasure, already feeling yourself trickle between your thighs, 

"Hate," Julian scoffed breathlessly against your neck between thrusts that bordered on punishing now,"...isn’t what this sounds like."

A particularly rough snap forward punctuated it before adding dryly, "...Or feels like."  

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” you warn, coming up to put a hand over his, the one that gripped your throat. It was beyond embarrassing, taking dick from the CEO of the company that rivaled yours.

Julian’s laugh was a dark, breathless thing as your hand covered his, his fingers flexing just enough to make you feel the shift in power. 

His hips never slowed, driving into you with relentless precision even as pleasure coiled tight in both of you now, mocking how easily control unraveled between rivals. 

"Oh God," Julian muttered against sweat-damp skin where collar met shoulder blade; not cruel but honest because god help him if anyone else ever saw the way your bodies fit together so perfectly when hate was just another excuse to ruin each other properly instead. The glass fogged up again when both your orgasms hit hard enough, leaving legs shaking and pride thoroughly shattered beneath tailored suit pants still pooled around his ankles on the marble floor, long after that moment should've been over already.

Julian is the one to break the silence, “Same time next week?”

You sighed, gazing back looking no less exasperated as you tried to come down from your high, “Fuck you.”

“Woah… again?” he quipped, hand smoothing over your hair. “Oh, come on. You love me.”