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Aaron ground his hips, teetering on the edge of orgasm.

“Are you close?” he asked.

Jett whimpered, and Aaron took it as a yes. He rubbed his hand over Jett’s stomach in small circles, adding more stimulus to his prostate. It was taking it from all sides, and Aaron increased the deepness of his thrusts, the pressure of his hand until Jett couldn’t handle it anymore. He tensed from his toes, up to his shoulders, but Aaron felt his ass tense the most, crushing his cock in a vise-like grip.

“Jesus,” he breathed, and then Jett’s cock started coming, lifting itself with each squirt over the desk.

Aaron knew he was close, could feel the pinpricks of pleasure intensifying down his cock. The sensation, the sight, the sound, even the smell of sex was more than Aaron could take, and it triggered the end of his edging, throwing him into the midst of an orgasm.

Jett’s lingering climax squeezed out every drop of Aaron’s cum until he lost his balance and staggered forward. He crushed Jett to the desk, still tingling in the afterglow, lightheaded and heaving.

“That was…” He couldn’t finish, too overwhelmed, but Jett seemed to understand.

“Yeah, it definitely was.”

He used that wondering tone, but the voice wasn’t enough, Aaron wanted to see the look on his face, too. He pulled his cock out, unclipped the collar from Jett’s neck, then turned him around.

Feathers were everywhere, Jett’s angel wings in tatters. The collar had left a red band around his throat, and Aaron stroked his thumb along the mark. The black shorts were still tangled around Jett’s thighs, making it hard for him to move his legs. Aaron sat him on the edge of the desk then held his face in his palms.

The dried cum on his chest flaked off in patches of glitter, sprinkling the floor. His blue irises were compromised by dark desire, and his lips were red-raw mauled. A haze of dopy affection glazed his eyes, and his smile was lazy, slanted on his face. Aaron found himself grinning back at him, unable to help himself. His life was dark, and grubby, and then there was Jett, so bloody good, and saintly, but eager for Aaron’s praise, eager for Aaron’s hands and cock. No one else was ever gonna look at him like Jett did, and he wasn’t going to look at anyone else in the same way he looked at Jett.

“You’re adorable.”

Jett suited the fallen angel look. Aaron’s fallen angel. Corrupted and cute, and Aaron kissed him hard.

After many, many minutes of kissing, Aaron took a step back. He ruffled Jett’s messy hair, then picked a patch of not-just-glitter off Jett’s chest

“I think you owe me another new desk.”

Jett looked at it, papers and books everywhere, and cum splattered on top. It wasn’t technically broken, but a mess. The whole office looked like a tornado had passed through.

“And you owe me a new trophy.”

Aaron looked regretfully at the floor behind him. The glass glinted in the light, and he sighed.

“I’m sure you’ll win another next year. You’re the best barman in the country. The best dressed, the best kisser, the best fuck as well.”

“Do I get a trophy for all that?”

“Maybe, if you’re lucky.”

“What do we do about Marlon?” Jett whispered.

“What about him?”

“He thinks I’m going home with him.”

“Well he’s goddamn wrong.”

Instead of shrinking away at Aaron’s blunt tone, Jett smiled.

“I know that—”

“You go down there and tell him you’re not interested; you’d rather be fucked by your boss. Your very attractive, territorial boss with enough money and contacts to make him disappear.”

“But what if…”

“What?”