The Deadline Ends With Me Inside Of You

Jensen stared at the blinking cursor on his laptop screen, the numbers and figures blurring together after hours of trying to meet the impossible deadline. His fingers trembled slightly over the keyboard. The report was overdue, and he knew Clinton wouldn’t be pleased. The weight of that looming disapproval pressed down on him heavier than the exhaustion in his muscles.

The office was empty, the harsh fluorescent lights dimmed to a low glow, casting long shadows that stretched across the polished floor. Only the hum of the air conditioner broke the silence, steady and monotonous.

A sharp voice cut through the quiet, and Jensen’s breath hitched.

“Jensen.”

Clinton stood in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the hallway light. His crisp white shirt was rolled at the sleeves, revealing the strong muscles of his forearms. His dark eyes locked onto Jensen’s, unblinking and commanding.

“You’re falling behind again,” Clinton said coolly, stepping inside, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around Jensen like a silk sheet. “I expected this report on my desk hours ago. This isn’t acceptable.”

Jensen swallowed, unable to meet Clinton’s gaze fully. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m finishing it now.”

Clinton’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, but there was an edge to it—an unspoken understanding that went beyond professionalism.

“You’re going to have to make up for it,” he said quietly, voice dropping an octave. “You know what happens when you disappoint me.”

Jensen’s heart hammered in his chest, a mix of fear and something far more intoxicating blooming inside him. “Yes, sir.”

Clinton took a step closer, the heat of his presence overwhelming. “Good. When you’re done, come to my office. We have business to discuss.”

Jensen’s mouth went dry. “Yes, sir.”

The minutes dragged by, each tick of the clock torturous. Finally, with a deep breath, Jensen closed his laptop and stood, his legs shaky from tension and anticipation. The office was still, the world outside forgotten.

He walked down the hall to Clinton’s office, the door slightly ajar as if inviting him in.

Clinton looked up from his desk, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Come in,” he said, voice low.

Jensen stepped inside, the door closing softly behind him.

Clinton rose smoothly, moving with controlled grace until he stood only inches away. His hand lifted, brushing a stray lock of hair from Jensen’s forehead.

“You’ve been working yourself ragged,” Clinton murmured, his fingers lingering against Jensen’s skin. “That kind of dedication deserves a reward.”

Jensen’s breath hitched at the warmth of Clinton’s touch.

Clinton’s hand slid down, tracing Jensen’s jawline before gripping his chin firmly, tilting his face upward. His eyes searched Jensen’s, dark pools filled with hunger and command.

“Do you want this?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jensen whispered, voice barely audible, but firm.

Without another word, Clinton’s lips crashed down on Jensen’s, hard and possessive. Jensen’s knees weakened, hands flying to Clinton’s chest, clutching the fabric as if anchoring himself.

The kiss deepened, tongues tangling, breath mixing, heat building like a wildfire. Clinton’s hands roamed over Jensen’s back, pulling him impossibly closer.

Clinton broke the kiss, trailing a line of open-mouthed kisses down Jensen’s neck, nibbling softly, biting just enough to sting. Jensen moaned, tilting his head back to give better access.

Clinton’s fingers slipped beneath Jensen’s shirt, fingers burning trails across bare skin. The buttons came undone quickly, the shirt slipping off, revealing the smooth planes of Jensen’s chest and the rapid rise and fall of his breath.

Clinton’s own shirt soon joined the growing pile of discarded clothing. His muscular arms enveloped Jensen, the contrast between firm and soft skin igniting sparks with every touch.

Clinton backed Jensen toward the large wooden desk, guiding him until he sat on its polished surface, legs parted slightly.

Jensen’s pulse thundered as Clinton knelt between his thighs, hands running over the smooth fabric of Jensen’s pants, thumbs brushing teasingly close to the waistband.

“Tell me what you want,” Clinton whispered, his breath hot against Jensen’s skin.

Jensen’s hands gripped Clinton’s hair, pulling him closer. “I want you. I want everything.”

Clinton’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile.

With deliberate slowness, Clinton’s fingers worked at the button of Jensen’s pants, undoing it and sliding the zipper down. Jensen’s cock sprang free, thick and already hard, glistening with precome.

Clinton’s eyes darkened as he took Jensen’s length in his hand, stroking slow and sure.

“Such a beautiful sight,” Clinton murmured, thumb circling the swollen head. “You belong to me tonight.”

Jensen’s hips lifted involuntarily, chasing the touch, desperate for more.

Clinton lowered his head, mouth closing over the tip with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that made Jensen’s knees shake. His tongue swirled teasingly, stroking every sensitive nerve.

Jensen gasped, fingers tangling in Clinton’s hair as waves of pleasure crashed through him.

Clinton’s hands slid to Jensen’s thighs, gripping firmly as his mouth worked lower, taking more of Jensen’s cock into his mouth. The wet heat surrounded him, every suck and swirl driving Jensen closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Clinton,” Jensen groaned, hips bucking against his mouth.

Clinton hummed around him, lips tightening in a perfect seal, sucking hard and slow.

Jensen’s hands clutched the desk as his body tensed, breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

“Cum for me,” Clinton growled, the command vibrating through Jensen’s core.

Jensen’s body shattered as he spilled hot release deep into Clinton’s mouth. Clinton swallowed every drop, pulling back slowly, eyes locked on Jensen’s flushed, trembling face.

Clinton stood, eyes smoldering with possession.

“Now,” he said, voice thick with promise, “it’s your turn.”

He pushed Jensen gently back until he was lying flat on the desk, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Clinton’s hand traced a path down Jensen’s chest, fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers. With a confident flick, they were pulled down, exposing Jensen’s bare skin to the cool air.

Clinton’s mouth followed the trail of his fingers, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along Jensen’s ribs.

Jensen shivered, hands gripping the desk’s edge, anticipation coiling tighter inside him.

Clinton knelt between his legs, hands spreading Jensen’s thighs wider, baring him completely.

Slowly, deliberately, Clinton lined himself up, thick cock pressing against Jensen’s entrance.

Jensen’s breath hitched as Clinton pushed inside him, inch by careful inch.

The stretch was intense, but so achingly good.

Clinton’s hands gripped Jensen’s hips as he sank deeper, settling fully inside.

A low growl escaped Clinton’s lips as he began to move—slow, deep thrusts that drove heat straight to Jensen’s core.

Jensen gasped, hands clutching Clinton’s shoulders, body trembling with pleasure.

Clinton’s pace quickened, each powerful thrust sending waves of sensation crashing over them.

Their breaths mingled, harsh and urgent.

Clinton bent down, capturing Jensen’s lips in a searing kiss, tongues tangling as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm.

Jensen moaned, feeling utterly consumed.

The pleasure built, thick and overwhelming.

“Cum for me,” Clinton growled again, voice rough and commanding.

Jensen screamed his release, body convulsing as Clinton followed, filling him completely.

They collapsed together, sweaty and breathless, hearts pounding in unison.

Jensen rested his head against Clinton’s chest, feeling warmth and safety amidst the wild storm of sensation.

“Now the bathtub.” He heard Clinton's voice.