Page 11

Nick perched on the edge of the conference table, arms crossed, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. The air in the room was thick with exhaustion—not from work, but from him and Viktor.

Their coworkers were sick of their shit.

Well, too bad.

“Can you believe this guy?” Viktor drawled, stretching back in his chair, his arms flexing just enough to be obnoxious about it. “He actually thinks he can run this project without completely tanking it.”

Nick scoffed. “Please. You wouldn’t know how to run anything that didn’t involve chasing tail.”

A few groans. A couple of muffled laughs. Nick relished it.

Viktor narrowed his eyes. “At least I catch what I’m after. You? You’re just good at running away.”

That earned a few chuckles around the table. Nick just leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the polished wood. “Funny, coming from a guy who trips over his own ego every time he walks into a room.”

Viktor leaned in, their faces inches apart. “Ego? This isn’t about ego. It’s about skill. Something you clearly lack.”

Nick tilted his head, unfazed. “Is that what you call it?”

Their boss sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a migraine—one named Nick and Viktor. “Alright, gentlemen. Can we focus?”

For the last year, Nick had been on what some might call a sabbatical—or, more accurately, a very long and very expensive vacation. Turns out, selling his time and dignity to a forest full of horny werewolves had paid surprisingly well.

Not that all of them had gotten their claws on him. Just one.

One infuriating, cocky, insufferable werewolf who also happened to be his boyfriend.

Nick smirked to himself as he strolled out of the meeting room, still feeling the ghost of Viktor’s glare on him. Worth every damn penny.

The second the conference door shut behind him, Nick rolled his shoulders and made a beeline for the copy room. He needed a breather after their little performance. He and Viktor had perfected the art of mutually assured destruction at work—trading barbs like a couple of territorial idiots, all for the sake of keeping their coworkers none the wiser.

Not that it wasn’t fun.

He slipped inside the supply room, exhaling as he leaned back against the counter. A minute later, the door creaked open behind him.

Nick didn’t even need to turn. The scent of pine and stupidly overpriced cologne filled the room, and the soft click of the lock had him biting back a grin. "Calling my market analysis 'pedestrian and uninspired' was a bit much, don't you think?" he drawled.

Viktor stepped in like he hadn't just spent an hour antagonizing him in public. "Your face when I said it was worth every syllable."

"Careful, Fido. One day I'm going to snap and actually tell everyone why you're such an insufferable ass to me in meetings."

Viktor huffed a laugh, stepping closer until they were nearly chest to chest. "You wouldn't dare. Half the office thinks you're sleeping with the CEO to keep your job despite my 'devastating critiques.'"

Nick tilted his head. "The other half thinks we're having hate sex in the supply room."

Viktor hummed, pretending to consider. "Hate's a strong word. Aggressive fondness, maybe."

Nick rolled his eyes, but his smile softened. “And yet, here you are. Practically salivating.”

Nick barely had time to smirk before Viktor’s mouth crashed into his, all heat and reckless need. The space between them vanished, rivalry peeling away like the cheap disguise it was.

The kiss sent a bolt of fire through Nick’s veins, stealing his breath, setting every nerve alight. His back hit the copy machine, but he barely noticed. Viktor was everywhere—hands gripping his waist, body pressing flush against his, all muscle and heat and bad decisions.

Nick knew he should remind Viktor that this was a terrible idea, that they were at work, that their coworkers were right outside.

But why start making good choices now?

Instead, he grabbed two fistfuls of Viktor’s shirt and dragged him closer, deepening the kiss, swallowing the low groan it pulled from the werewolf’s throat.

Viktor tasted like coffee and arrogance. His stubble scraped against Nick’s jaw, a teasing reminder of every late-night rendezvous, every stolen moment, every time they’d barely made it out of a room looking remotely professional.

A year of this. A year of insults in boardrooms and hands in each other’s hair the second the doors closed. A year of pretending to be rivals in public while sneaking around like a couple of horny teenagers.

Nick was having the time of his life.

Viktor’s fingers dug into his hips, pulling him forward like he was trying to fuse them together. Nick gasped against his lips, heat flaring low in his stomach, and—goddamn it—the thrill of being so close to getting caught only made it better.

He broke the kiss, sucking in air, his heart hammering against his ribs. Viktor didn’t move far, his forehead resting against Nick’s, green eyes dark with heat.

Nick let his hands drift lower, just to be a menace. “You know, one day we’re gonna get caught.”

Viktor chuckled, voice rough. “Then we’d better make the most of it.”

Nick barely had time to roll his eyes before Viktor kissed him again, deep and claiming.

A wicked idea slithered into Nick’s brain, curling up like a cat in the sun, smug and dangerous. His fingers trailed along Viktor’s jaw, feeling the subtle clench of muscle beneath his touch. He didn’t miss the way Viktor’s pupils darkened, sharp eyes zeroing in on him like a predator locking onto prey.

Nick smirked. Perfect.

“You think you can take me right here,” he murmured, his voice a purr of pure provocation, “without making a sound?”

Viktor’s grip on his hips tightened, fingers pressing in like he was already claiming victory. His breath, hot and teasing, ghosted over Nick’s ear as he leaned in. “Challenge accepted.”

Nick barely had a second to process before Viktor spun him around and bent him over the copier. The cold surface jolted against his overheated skin, sending a shiver down his spine. His fingers curled against the smooth plastic, breath hitching, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

This was reckless. Stupid.

So damn good.

The hum of the machine beneath him filled the silence, a steady white noise masking their ragged breathing. Nick bit down on his lip, hard, because Viktor’s hands—strong, possessive—were already tracing a slow, torturous path down his sides, sending sparks of anticipation through every nerve in his body.

“This is a terrible idea,” Nick whispered, voice wrecked even before Viktor really got started.

Viktor chuckled, low and knowing, his thumbs digging into Nick’s hips. “You’re the one who started it.”

Viktor's hands gripped his hips possessively, thumbs digging into the sensitive flesh. The werewolf pressed against him from behind, his solid warmth a stark contrast to the cool machine beneath Nick's chest.

Nick’s breath fogged against the copier’s surface, shivering as Viktor’s fingers dragged down his lower back, teasing, deliberate. When they slipped beneath the waistband of his slacks and between his cheeks, he felt the second Viktor’s breath hitched—the exact moment realization hit.

Silence. Then, a slow, dark chuckle.

“Someone came prepared.” Viktor’s voice was lower now, rough around the edges. His fingers teased Nick's hole—slick with lube.

Nick glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “Please. You think I didn’t know exactly what I was doing in that meeting?” He pushed back slightly, making damn sure Viktor felt him. “Your face when I called out your ego? Worth every minute I spent in the bathroom getting ready.”

Viktor’s grip on his hip tightened, his other hand still lingering like he was deciding how much trouble Nick was actually in. A growl rumbled in his chest, a vibration Nick felt before he heard.

“You little tease.” Viktor’s fingers drove straight into Nick, making him suck in a sharp breath. “The whole time you were sitting there, running that smart mouth…”

“Thinking about this?” Nick arched slightly, voice just shy of breathless. “About how easy it would be for you to just bend me over and take what’s yours?” His head tilted, and he let out a shaky breath as Viktor’s slid two thick fingers into him. “Maybe.” A pause, the sharp flicker of a smirk. “Definitely.”

Viktor cursed under his breath, his fingers flexing. He leaned in, his breath hot against Nick’s ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make him shudder. “You’re going to pay for this,” he murmured, voice edged with promise.

Nick grinned, exhaling sharply. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

Viktor’s chest rumbled with silent laughter, a dark, knowing sound that sent shivers down Nick’s spine.

Viktor's answer was the unmistakable sound of expensive fabric being yanked down. Nick's tailored pants pooled around his ankles, cool air hitting the heated skin of his exposed ass. The position—bent over the photocopier, ass bared, still wearing his dress shirt and tie—should have been humiliating. Instead, it sent a fresh surge of arousal through him, his cock twitching against the hard edge of the machine.

Behind him came the metallic clink of Viktor's belt buckle, followed by the slow, deliberate rasp of his zipper. The sound alone made Nick's cock jerk, a visceral response born from a year of associating that specific sequence with the mind-blowing pleasure that inevitably followed. Pavlovian conditioning at its finest. Viktor had ruined him for perfectly normal sounds.

Nick opened his mouth for some clever retort, but the words died in his throat as he felt the blunt head of Viktor's cock pressing against his entrance. Despite the preparation, despite a year of taking Viktor inside him, the initial pressure still made his breath catch. Viktor was big—unnaturally so—and the stretch of accommodation never failed to make Nick's mind go temporarily, blissfully blank.

A moment of resistance, a heartbeat of pressure, and then Viktor was pushing inside, a slow, thick invasion that had Nick biting down on his lower lip to keep from making sounds that would alert the entire floor to exactly what was happening in the supply room.

"Fuck," Nick breathed, the word barely audible as Viktor sank deeper, filling him with that perfect combination of pleasure and burn. His fingers gripped the edges of the photocopier, knuckles turning white as Viktor bottomed out, hips flush against Nick's ass.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Nick could feel Viktor's control trembling, could sense the effort it took him to remain still, allowing Nick's body to adjust to the intrusion. Then Viktor shifted his hips, dragging his cock against that spot inside Nick that made stars explode behind his eyes, and all thought dissolved into raw sensation.

"So tight," Viktor growled, his accent thickening the way it always did when he was lost in pleasure. "Every time—like you were made for my cock."

The first real thrust drove Nick forward, his chest pressed against the cool surface of the photocopier. He bit back a moan as Viktor withdrew almost completely before driving back in with enough force to make the machine creak beneath them.

"Shh," Viktor warned, though his own breathing was rough. "Unless you want the entire accounting department to hear how well you take my cock."

Nick’s head tipped forward, forehead nearly pressing to the cool surface of the copier as he exhaled a shaky breath. The stretch, the slow, deep fullness, had his toes curling in his damn shoes. He bit his lip hard—too hard—until the sharp taste of copper bloomed on his tongue, anything to keep the moan threatening to escape locked behind his teeth.

The forbidden nature of it all—their office, the copier beneath him, the thin walls that did nothing to muffle sound—made the sensation so much worse. So much better . The challenge of staying quiet made everything burn hotter, coil tighter, the stakes rising with every slow, deliberate movement.

Viktor knew. Of course he did.

Nick’s knuckles turned white against the copier’s edge as Viktor moved, dragging back just enough before rolling his hips forward in a slow, devastating rhythm. Nick’s jaw clenched, his body bowing under the pressure, every nerve alight as heat licked up his spine.

Every motion hit exactly right, deep and unrelenting, forcing Nick to fight to contain the noises that wanted to rip from his throat. His eyes fluttered shut, pleasure coiling tighter, sparks dancing behind his lids.

The wet, rhythmic sound of movement filled the small space, obscene in the quiet. Nick bit down on his wrist, desperate to muffle himself, but Viktor only picked up the pace, dragging another sharp inhale from him.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, barely holding it together.

This game had been his idea.

But Viktor was winning.

His fingers trembled against the copier as Viktor shifted, adjusting just enough to make his vision go white at the edges. The copier’s surface was already smudged from his breath, fogging beneath his ragged exhales.

“Getting a little loud there,” Viktor whispered, his voice thick with amusement and something darker, hungrier.

Nick barely had time to register the taunt before Viktor snapped his hips forward—sharp, deep, devastating. A strangled gasp escaped him before he could stop it.

Viktor grinned, smug as hell. “What happened to that challenge?”

Nick’s legs trembled, knees threatening to give out as Viktor picked up the pace. The copier dug into his hips, the dull ache only heightening the pleasure that was winding so tight in his gut he could barely breathe through it.

“Fuck you,” he grit out, voice raw, shaky.

Viktor chuckled against his back, the sound reverberating through Nick’s entire body. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he murmured, punctuating it with a particularly wicked thrust that had Nick biting down on his own wrist to muffle the noise.

Viktor nipped at his shoulder, pleased, smug, relentless. “And you’re loving every second of it.”

Nick had no smart comeback for that.

Because Viktor was right. And that was the worst part.

Nick’s breath hitched, his entire body a live wire of sensation, pulsing with need. Every nerve screamed, every inch of him drawn so tight he thought he might snap.

He gritted his teeth, trying to hold onto some shred of control, but then—damn it—the words slipped free before he could stop them.

“If you can make me cry out…” His voice was wrecked, barely a whisper, a desperate gasp torn from his lips.

His fingers clenched against the copier. The moment hung heavy between them, thick with heat, with challenge. He exhaled sharply, locking eyes with Viktor through the haze of pleasure, and smirked. “Then you win.”

Viktor growled, a deep, possessive sound that sent a violent shudder straight through Nick. Then he moved, grip tightening, hips snapping forward in a rhythm that stole every ounce of air from Nick’s lungs.

Nick's fingers scrambled for purchase as the copier rocked beneath them, plastic creaking in protest. He bit down hard on his lower lip, desperately swallowing the sounds that threatened to escape with each brutal thrust. The air conditioning was supplying a helpful cover of white noise, but the supply room's walls wouldn't contain a full-voiced moan—not with the accounting department barely fifteen feet away, reviewing quarterly reports.

The slick drag of Viktor against him—inside him—made every inch of him burn, a wildfire spreading outward from his core. His free hand flew up to cover his own mouth as Viktor hit that perfect spot, eyes rolling back as pleasure spiked through him.

His control was shredding.

Viktor knew it, too. The bastard could feel it. His large hand clamped over Nick's mouth, his other arm wrapping around Nick's waist to hold him steady for each punishing thrust. Viktor's breath came in harsh, controlled pants against Nick's ear, the effort of staying silent clearly costing him too.

Footsteps passed by the door—so close, too close. Viktor froze mid-thrust, both of them holding their breath… before the footsteps continued down the hall.

When they resumed, Viktor's pace was even more merciless, as if the near-discovery had only fueled his determination to take Nick apart in the most forbidden place possible.

Viktor's broad palm pressed firmly over Nick's mouth, large enough to cover it completely, fingers digging into his cheek. The werewolf used this leverage to pull Nick's head back slightly, arching his spine into a more vulnerable curve as he drove into him with ruthless precision.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Viktor whispered, his voice barely audible yet somehow still carrying that commanding resonance that made Nick's insides clench. "To be stuffed full of my cock while everyone works just outside?"

Nick could only whimper against Viktor's palm, the sound effectively muffled as Viktor's hips worked silently. Viktor's free hand snaked around Nick's hip, wrapping around his cock with just the right pressure—not too gentle, not too rough. Just the perfect grip that he'd learned Nick needed after a year of mapping his body. The first stroke had Nick's knees buckling, a pathetic whine escaping against Viktor's restraining hand.

"So desperate," Viktor taunted, his accent thickening as his control slipped further. "What would Roberts say if he knew his star analyst was bent over his office equipment, taking cock like he was made for it?"

Each stroke of Viktor's hand matched the relentless drive of his hips, creating a circuit of pleasure that had Nick's vision blurring at the edges. The air conditioning's hum provided meager cover for the wet, obscene sounds of Viktor driving into his lubed hole, the slick noise of flesh against flesh barely masked.

"Can you feel how hard I am inside you?" Viktor growled, his mouth directly against Nick's ear. "So ready to knot you. Right here. Right now..."

Nick's eyes flew wide, alarm shooting through him even as his cock jerked eagerly at the words. He shook his head frantically against Viktor's palm, making distressed sounds as panic mingled with arousal. Being knotted at work was impossible—they'd be locked together for at least thirty minutes, unable to separate, unable to explain—

"Imagine it," Viktor continued mercilessly, his hand speeding up on Nick's cock, thumb swiping over the sensitive head on each upstroke. "My knot inside you. Everyone wondering where we've disappeared to, while you're filled with my come, unable to move, unable to do anything but take it."

Nick's muffled protests melted into desperate moans. His body tensed, thighs trembling as heat pooled at the base of his spine. Viktor must have felt it, felt the way Nick's body was tightening around him, because his strokes became more focused, more deliberate.

"That's it," Viktor whispered, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. He bit the shell of Nick's ear, a sharp nip of ownership. "Come for me."

Nick's orgasm hit with devastating force, tearing through him like a lightning strike. His moan of pleasure was completely muffled by Viktor's hand, reduced to a series of desperate whimpers as his release spilled over Viktor's fingers, streaking the copier. His body convulsed around Viktor's length, inner walls clenching rhythmically as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him.

Viktor didn't slow down. If anything, Nick's climax spurred him to greater intensity. He pinned Nick firmly against the copier, keeping him in place as hypersensitivity set in, making each continued thrust a delicious torture.

Nick could only shudder helplessly, overstimulated and overwhelmed as Viktor used his pliant body for his own pleasure. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes—not from pain but from the sheer intensity of sensation, from being used so thoroughly in the aftermath of his own release.

When Viktor finally came, it was with a barely-suppressed growl that vibrated through Nick's entire body. He drove in deep, pinning Nick firmly against the copier as his cock pulsed, filling Nick with hot spurts of release. His fingers dug into Nick's hip hard enough to bruise, marking him in yet another way that would linger long after they returned to their respective desks.

For several long moments, they remained frozen in place, both panting, Viktor's hand slowly relaxing over Nick's mouth. When he finally withdrew it, Nick gasped in a full breath, his legs trembling with the effort of keeping him upright.

Viktor's arms wrapped around him from behind, supporting his weight as they both recovered, his softening cock still buried inside Nick's body. His lips pressed gently against the nape of Nick's neck—a tender contrast to the rough claiming of moments before.

"I wasn't actually going to knot you at work," Viktor murmured against his skin, a hint of smug amusement in his voice.

Nick managed a breathless laugh, turning his head slightly to catch Viktor's eye. "Bastard. You know what that talk does to me."

Viktor's smile was both predatory and affectionate, a combination that never failed to make Nick's heart skip. "I know. That's why I do it."

Nick’s legs barely held him up as Viktor turned him around, surprisingly gentle for someone who had just spent the last several minutes ruining him. A strong hand cupped his cheek, thumb tracing the heat still lingering on his skin. The touch wasn’t possessive, wasn’t teasing—just soft. Reverent, almost.

Nick’s heart stuttered.

Then Viktor kissed him.

Not the usual battle for dominance, no sharp edges or taunting smirks. Just warmth, steady and slow, lips moving with a kind of quiet certainty that made Nick’s stomach flip. His fingers curled into Viktor’s shirt, anchoring himself as something heavy and real settled between them.

A passing noise from the hallway made them pull apart, both of them listening. They locked eyes, sharing the same thought.

They needed to get back out there.

Nick smirked first, glancing down at their absolutely wrecked states. His shirt was barely buttoned, Viktor’s tie was a lost cause, and their current hygiene was definitely not workplace appropriate. The thrill of it all, the risk, the sheer audacity, sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Viktor, smug as ever, pressed his forehead to Nick’s, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them, heartbeats still syncing back to normal.

Nick exhaled, stepping back and fumbling with his buttons. His fingers weren’t cooperating.

Viktor chuckled and batted his hands away. “Let me.”

Nick raised an eyebrow but didn’t fight it. “Since when are you a fashion expert?”

Viktor straightened his collar, smoothing down the fabric with absurd precision. “Someone has to be.”

Nick snorted but let him fuss, enjoying the rare moment of Viktor being borderline domestic. His hands, usually rough and impatient, were surprisingly careful as they lingered—a little longer than necessary—tracing over the same skin he’d gripped so fiercely just minutes ago.

He stepped back, scanning Nick with a slow, assessing gaze. “There. Almost presentable.”

Nick hummed, reaching out to tug Viktor’s shirt back into place. His fingers brushed warm skin, lingering just for the sake of it. “And you look almost civilized.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow. “Almost?”

Nick grinned, stepping closer until their bodies nearly touched again. “You still have that wild look in your eyes.”

Viktor’s hands slid around his waist, pulling him in for a quick kiss. It was sweet, but there was promise behind it, a warning that this wasn’t the end. “And whose fault is that?” Viktor murmured against his lips.

Nick laughed, tension melting away completely. “For once, I’ll take full responsibility.”

Viktor hummed in agreement, nipping at Nick’s lower lip before pulling back with obvious reluctance. “We should probably get out of here before someone catches us.”

“Right,” Nick agreed, though neither of them moved. Their eyes met, heat fading into something quieter, something steady.

Viktor tilted his head. “Later tonight?”

Nick swallowed, his heart doing a stupid little flip at how soft Viktor’s voice was, at the weight behind such a simple question. “Definitely.”

They stepped out of the copy room side by side, shoulders brushing, hands almost touching. The office was still the same—fluorescent lighting, the hum of printers, the quiet murmur of coworkers who thankfully hadn’t noticed their absence—but Nick felt different. Lighter.

They exchanged one last glance filled with promise before they started walking back toward their desks—

Oh, shit.

Nick froze, realization slamming into him like a brick to the face. He spun on his heel and bolted back inside the supply room.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

As he wiped furiously at the copier glass, his mind flashed with horrifying scenarios. Some poor, unsuspecting intern walking in, setting down a stack of reports, and seeing— Jesus christ . It was one thing to prank-copy your ass. It was another thing entirely to leave this mess behind.

Behind him, Viktor leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the frantic cleanup with zero intention of helping. “I cannot believe you almost left a crime scene in there,” he mused, sounding way too delighted by Nick’s panic.

Nick glared at him, still scrubbing. “Shut up.”

Viktor shrugged, smirking. “I mean, I get it. You were a little distracted.”

Nick groaned, tossing the very unfortunate piece of printer paper into the trash. He hoped no one looked at it too closely. After one last frantic wipe-down, he exhaled. “Okay. Now we can go.”

Viktor’s smirk widened, but he said nothing, just holding the door open for Nick as they finally walked out.