the boss
It’s one of those long, dragging days where you’re constantly looking for something to do. Nothing to watch on TV, nothing that catches your eye on Sephora, the gym is boring, it’s too cold to swim, and Stevie, you have to entertain me!
Stevie has got a pile of reports to have handed in by the end of the week. Stevie has no time to pay attention to you, and in your eyes that’s a complete and utter tragedy. So you sit and pout on the fancy leather sofa in his office, arms folded and legs held up in the air out of sheer boredom. You’ve been throwing your phone up and down for the hell of it, occasionally speaking – but Steve only hums and nods, eyes not lifting from his papers.
“I think I’m gonna shave my head,” you say casually, watching his reaction.
“That’s nice, darling.”
“And I’ve realised I quite like face tattoos…”
“Really? Cool.”
“I ended up in the ER after an orgy once, wanna hear the story?”
“Nic— what?” Steve’s head shoots up, eyes narrowed and mouth open, and it’s obvious that he’s only now registering what you’d said. He lets the word-stuffed paper in his hand float to his desk, the tip of his ballpoint pen pointing towards you. “Very funny.”
“It was the only way to get your attention!” You whine, lazing back again. “C’mon, Stevie. They’re not due till the end of the week! Can’t you just…” You arch your back as you stretch, sighing in that deliberately breathless way that makes his jaw tick— “…take a break?”
“Darling, I can’t—” And it takes every ounce of self-control to exercise that restraint because he’s been working since breakfast and he hasn’t taken one single measly break and you’re wearing that skirt he loves—
“You can,” you badger, wiggling until you’re sitting up again. “I’ll even help you finish your reports! Promise.”
No, you won’t. You’ll sit on his lap and say that you’re gonna help and then you’ll get bored and just fall asleep on him — which doesn’t sound too bad, all things considered.
“Whaddya want me to do, huh?” He asks, folding his arms. (He knows exactly what you want him to do — but if you’re gonna get your own way he may as well draw it out a bit. Can’t have you knowing that he’s completely whipped, right?)
(…as if it’s not obvious.)
“I don’t know!” You huff. “Maybe, like, I don’t know, call me over? All, I’m bored. Come over and sit on my dick—”
Steve splutters a laugh at the way you lower your voice and furrow your brows — a bad impression of him, complete with a frown — and you can only follow, giggling, though you do make an effort to pout a bit, crossing your arms. “Don’t laugh!”
He’s still smiling as he rises from his seat, rounding his desk and kneeling on the ground before you. His hands find your bare legs — soft and smooth and glistening with that glitter-filled lotion you loved so much — and with one tug, your legs are wrapped around his torso.
“It’s yours, darling. But if you want it, you have to ask.”
Sigh. Your worst nightmare. Asking for something.
Your eyes narrow. “We’ve roleplayed that six times already, come up with something new.”
He’s always telling you that your behaviour will get you in trouble — and you don’t think you’ve ever been more aware of it than when the amusement slides off his face, replaced by a facade of cool aloofness. In your head your entire thought process is yikes, but you also know that the sudden throbbing between your legs hasn’t made itself known just for the hell of it.
So maybe you get off on annoying Steve. Who doesn’t?
One hand that had been on your leg shoots up to grasp your jaw firmly — catching you so off-guard with its swiftness that you gasp, clutching at his wrist.
“Wanna say that again?”
The whimper you let out when he brushes your lips against his is pitiful. And he almost takes mercy on you — almost — just because you sound so far gone and he’s done virtually nothing. But at the end of the day, you need the control as much as he does — so he tightens his grip, steels his gaze and looks you right in those doe-eyes of yours.
“I asked you a question.”
“No,” you breathe, swallowing. “No.”
He hums. “No, what?”
“No, daddy.”
“Atta girl.”