5-ETHAN

The office reeked of sex and cocaine, sweat, cum, bourbon, and the faint chemical bite that still lingered in their nostrils.

Remy slid off the desk first, legs shaky but eyes bright. She tugged her tank top back into place, nipples still hard and visible through the damp fabric. Skirt smoothed down over thighs streaked with drying release.

She looked between them. Ethan slouched against the wall, cock softening but still heavy; Victor leaning on the desk, shirt half-unbuttoned, suit pants zipped but tented again. She licked her lips, tasting the last of Victor on her tongue.

“Back to work?” Ethan nodded once. “Tell the manager its top secret, if he asks what the meeting was about.” His voice was gravel. “Whisper it. Make him squirm.”

Remy grinned, wicked and satisfied. She stepped close, rose on her toes, and pressed a quick, filthy kiss to Ethan’s mouth, then turned and did the same to Victor, slow, lingering, letting her tongue flick against his.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “That was fucking hot. Hope we can do it again.”

“Definitely,” they said in unison, voices rough, overlapping.

She smoothed her skirt one last time, winked, and slipped out the door. The lock clicked softly behind her.

Silence crashed in.

Ethan and Victor stood three feet apart, breathing hard, hearts still racing from the coke and the fucking. The air between them felt alive, charged, dangerous, unfinished.

Victor moved first. He reached for the mirror, tapped out two more fat lines without asking. Ethan watched the razor blade flash, watched Victor’s long fingers work.

They snorted in turn, sharp inhale, fire in the sinuses, instant clarity and hunger.

Victor straightened, wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Eyes locked on Ethan’s.

“I was your first man?”

Ethan met the gaze, unflinching. “Yeah.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Fuck no.” Ethan stepped forward, closing the distance. “And I’m not finished yet.”

He grabbed Victor by the lapels and kissed him, hard, claiming, all teeth and tongue and pent-up want.

Victor groaned into it, hands fisting Ethan’s tee, yanking him closer until their cocks, still half-hard, pressed together through fabric.

“Come home with me tonight,” Ethan rasped against Victor’s mouth. “I want to fuck you every which way. Raw. No condoms. No holding back. Suck you, fuck you, break you.”

Victor’s breath hitched. “Oh fuck yes.”

They devoured each other again, deeper this time, slower, tongues sliding like they were mapping every inch. Hands dropped to belts, zippers rasped down. Pants shoved to thighs.

Hard cocks sprang free, flushed and leaking, rubbing together in slick, hot friction.

Ethan hissed at the contact, velvet over steel, pre-cum smearing between them. He dropped to his knees without warning. Took Victor’s cock in his mouth, deep, greedy, tasting salt and musk and the faint trace of Remy still on him.

Victor’s hand fisted in Ethan’s hair.

“Oh fuck yes, you filthy fucking man. Suck it. Take it all.”

Ethan did. Hollowed his cheeks, tongue swirling the head, then swallowing until his nose pressed to Victor’s trimmed hair.

Victor groaned, hips rocking shallowly, fucking Ethan’s throat with careful restraint that felt like torture.

Then Victor hauled him up. rough, desperate, kissed him again, tasting himself on Ethan’s tongue. His hand wrapped around Ethan’s cock, stroking fast, slick.

“We’re going to your place,” Victor growled. “And we will fuck every which way you’ve never dreamed of. But first.”

He spun Ethan, bent him over the desk.

“I need to break you.”

Ethan braced on his forearms, ass presented.

Victor dropped behind him, spread him open with strong hands, and buried his face between Ethan’s cheeks. Tongue hot, wet, circling the rim, then pushing inside.

Ethan cursed, head dropping, thighs trembling.

Victor ate him like dessert, filthy, relentless, tongue fucking deep while one hand stroked Ethan’s cock in lazy pulls. Then a finger, slick with spit, pressed in.

Slow.

Ethan groaned, pushing back. Victor added a second, scissoring, stretching, curling against that spot that made Ethan’s vision spark.

“I’m gonna fuck this ass so good,” Victor promised, voice wrecked.

He stood. Lined up. The thick head of his cock pressed against Ethan’s entrance, hot, blunt, insistent.

He rocked in slow, inch by inch, until he bottomed out.

Ethan’s breath punched out in a low moan. Full. Stretched. Perfect.

Victor gave him a second to adjust, then started moving.

Deep, rolling thrusts at first, then harder. Faster. Slamming in, hips snapping, balls slapping against Ethan’s ass.

Ethan took it, loved it, pushing back to meet every brutal drive.

The desk creaked under them. Papers slid to the floor.

Victor reached around, fisted Ethan’s cock, and stroked in time with his thrusts.

“Come for me,” he ordered.

Ethan shattered, cock pulsing, cum spilling over Victor’s fist, ass clenching tight around him.

Victor followed seconds later, groaning deep, burying himself to the hilt and flooding Ethan with heat.

They collapsed forward, Victor draped over Ethan’s back, both panting, slick with sweat and release. Victor pressed soft kisses to the nape of Ethan’s neck, slow and tender now. Ethan turned his head. They kissed lazily, lingering, intimate, no rush.

Victor pulled out gently, cum trickling down Ethan’s thigh. He helped Ethan stand, turned him, kissed him again, slow, deep, hands cupping faces.

“Who’s driving?” Victor murmured against his lips.

“You,” Ethan said. “I can barely walk straight.”

They dressed in silence, pants zipped, shirts tucked, hair finger-combed. The office looked wrecked: desk askew, mirror smeared, air thick with them.

They left through the back door, Victor’s black sedan waiting in the alley.

The drive to Ethan’s place was quiet, charged. Hands on thighs. Fingers brushing cocks through denim. No words needed.

Inside the house, they didn’t make it past the foyer. Clothes shed in a trail to the bedroom.

They fucked slow this time, intimate, face-to-face.

Ethan on his back, legs wrapped around Victor’s waist. Deep, rolling thrusts. Mouths fused. Hands everywhere, stroking, gripping, claiming.

Later, in the shower, hot water pounding, Victor dropped to his knees. Sucked Ethan slow, reverent, until he came down his throat.

Then Ethan returned the favor, taking Victor deep, swallowing every drop while water streamed over them. They dried off, crawled into bed naked. Fell asleep tangled, Ethan’s head on Victor’s chest, Victor’s arm heavy across Ethan’s waist. Breathing synced. Hearts steady.

Morning light filtered through the blinds.

Giggling, soft, feminine, drifted from the doorway.

Ethan cracked one eye open.

Sofia and Camila stood there in their short uniforms, feather dusters forgotten, eyes wide and sparkling.

They looked at the two naked men in bed, sheets barely covering hips, limbs entwined, marks of the night still visible on their skin.

Camila whispered something in Spanish.

Sofia laughed, breathless.

Ethan felt Victor stir beside him, arm tightening possessively.

“Buenos días,” Ethan rumbled, voice wrecked from the night.

The maids exchanged a glance, knowing, excited.

Victor propped himself on one elbow and smirked.

“Early start today, ladies?”

Sofia bit her lip. “We thought… maybe you need help waking up.”

Ethan’s cock twitched under the sheet. Victor’s hand slid down Ethan’s stomach, possessively.

The maids stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind them.