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Gustave stared at his monitor, trying not to fidget. His office was quiet, most of his coworkers already having been helped with all their IT problems. It had been exactly one week since he’d started here, and he still hadn’t met the CEO in person. Not that he hadn’t seen him.
Glimpses of a sharp suit through the glass walls of the meeting rooms, lush black hair with a few grey streaks. Gustave had heard him speak in the hallways, so confident.
Everybody seemed to like him too and spoke highly of him, a good sign for any CEO.
But a direct encounter? Not yet.
Then the ping came. A new ticket appeared in the IT system, marked with a star that made Gustave’s stomach clench.
High priority. From: Verso Dessendre, CEO.
He stared at the request, trying to calm the sudden spike of nerves. He read it, reread it, then leaned back in his chair, straightening his tie.
He suddenly felt so underdressed, having seen glimpses of Mr. Dessendre. He had put on a nice shirt and slacks, and even a tie. But he was nowhere as well dressed.
“Okay… it’s just a ticket. It’s just… a ticket,” he muttered, though his voice cracked slightly.
“Not a trap. Just a ticket.”
The problem, of course, wasn’t the technical request itself. It was the end user.
Verso.
The CEO.
Someone Gustave imagined always knew more than anyone else, someone who never tolerated mistakes lightly. The thought of walking into that office made his chest tighten, the nerves buzzing low in his stomach.
He fidgeted with the corner of his sleeve, checking his watch for no reason.
“Right. Calm. Logical. You’ve fixed worse before,” he told himself.
Finally, with a shaky breath, he stood and grabbed his laptop bag. He smoothed down his shirt, tapped the bag against his hip, and muttered,
“Don’t embarrass yourself.”
The elevator ride to the top floor was agonizingly slow, every ding of the passing floors feeling like a countdown to an event that would define his first week.
After he had searched for a job for months, because no company was too thrilled to have one armed IT-guy. His prosthetic? It worked fine, but it did make some of the work much harder. Especially the fine motor skills.
But he managed, with his one arm, too stubborn to give up.
The secretary was nice to him, telling him that Mr. Dessendre was already waiting for him and to knock on the door.
Knocking on the door, he was called within seconds.
One last deep breath.
He swallowed hard and pushed the door open.
The CEO’s office was sleek yet old, intimidating with old wooden furniture. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls, a desk so perfectly organized it almost hurt to look at. Behind the large desk and young CEO a view that stretched across the city skyline. Gustave paused outside, laptop bag clutched to his chest, staring at the nameplate: Verso Dessendre.
Verso looked up from his laptop, perfectly poised in a leather chair, hair impeccably styled, eyes sharp but not unkind. Gustave froze, words sticking in his throat.
“Gustave, from IT right?” Verso’s voice was calm, even, with just a hint of curiosity.
“Y-yes,” Gustave stammered, stepping inside, feeling the weight of the entire office on his shoulders. He lingered in the doorway.
“Please, come in,”
“I… I’m here about the ticket you made.”
“Of course.” Verso’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, and Gustave suddenly felt like every nervous habit he had was painfully obvious.
“Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward a chair across from the desk.
Gustave swallowed again, lowering himself carefully into the seat, trying to appear calm while his heart hammered.
“Thank you.” His voice was too loud, too clipped. He winced internally.
Biting the nail of his sole thumb, he was mortified when he saw he had missed the hand Verso had extended to him.
Shaking his hand, he looked up at Verso.
Fuck, he was gorgeous.
“Welcome to the company. You started last week, right?”
“Yes,”Gustave said. There was so much he wanted to say, how grateful he was to have a job again after looking for so long since his accident.
“Are you liking it so far,”
“Yes,” Gustave said. He wished that he was an easier talker. Verso just nodded, flashing a small – possibly practiced – smile.
“What seems to be the problem?” Gustave asked. He felt so uncomfortable in all of this that he wanted to focus on work. He was scared to look in the beautiful eyes across from him and without wanting to, he was already starting to blush.
“Sometimes my mail doesn’t seem to arrive. There seems to be a delay constantly,” Verso explained.
“Ah yes, outlook is a fickle beast,” Gustave nervously joked. He regretted it right away, being like this right in front of the CEO. But Verso chuckled.
“Glad it is not just me being inept with technology,” Verso said, relief washing over him as Verso didn’t seem deterred by how socially awkward he was.
“Can I check?”
“Please,” Verso said as he got up to give Gustave space to sit by his laptop.
Gustave’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to focus on outlook, but he could feel Verso’s gaze lingering. It wasn’t impatient like most end users when he worked to fix their problems.
But there was an intensity there, a quiet curiosity that made Gustave’s chest tighten.
Finally, Verso spoke, almost casually.
“I… hope you don’t mind me asking,” he said, his tone measured; “but… how did you lose your arm?”
Gustave froze, the question hitting him harder than he expected. His prosthetic arm felt heavier somehow, the hum of the mechanics in the hybrid prosthetic suddenly louder in his mind. He flexed the fingers, testing their movement.
“I… had an accident,” he said finally, voice tight.
Verso’s brow lifted, but the sharpness in his eyes softened just a fraction.
“I see,” he said quietly; “I didn’t mean to pry. I hope I wasn’t too forward.”
Gustave swallowed, nodding quickly, unsure how to respond.
“It’s… fine,” he said, forcing a faint smile; “… it’s not something I… talk about much.”
“No, I understand. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. I apologize. That was… careless of me.”
Gustave glanced up, surprised by the sincerity in Verso’s voice. Most people would have either ignored it or awkwardly laughed it off. Verso, despite the sharp dominance in his manner, seemed genuinely concerned. That contrast made Gustave uneasy in a way he wasn’t used to.
In a good way.
“It’s… okay. It’s been a while. I… I manage.”
Verso nodded, his gaze steady but not overbearing.
“I’m glad. And… if there’s ever anything you need support or accommodations you should feel free to ask.”
Gustave was caught off guard. He wanted to reply, to make some dry, sarcastic comment like he usually would, but the weight of the moment held him quiet. Instead, he nodded again, a small, faint acknowledgment of trust.
“Good,” Verso said softly, the edge of dominance still there but wrapped in warmth.
“Now… let’s focus on outlook, shall we? I’d like to see how you approach it.”
Gustave exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease from his shoulders, though a faint hum of nerves remained.
As Gustave returned to the laptop, his fingers moving with cautious precision, he felt the subtle, almost imperceptible shift in their dynamic. Verso was still formidable, commanding, almost intimidating.
Yet, he was nice.
There was a thread of care woven through it, a quiet assurance that made Gustave’s chest tighten in a way he didn’t quite understand.
Verso watched him for a moment longer, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“You’re doing fine, Gustave. I think you’ll fit in here…”
Verso seemed to be right. The next few days were good and soon it was his second Thursday on the job already.
Gustave felt he was settling in nicely, was on top of his tickets and had even gotten friendly enough with some of the coworkers that he no longer had to sit alone at lunch. He hadn’t minded it, but it was nice to belong.
Even better, Verso had been by his office to check on him. It had flattered him, knowing that the CEO cared enough to check up on him.
Now, a little over a week later, he received another ticket from Verso Dessendre. Some of the cables under his desk seemed to have been damaged, causing power issues to his accessories connected to the docking station.
Easy enough.
Verso was warm again as he let Gustave in and pointed at the cable desk under his desk.
Gustave slid partially under the desk. His hand were busy untangling a cluster of cables, but he couldn’t stop noticing the subtle sound of Verso moving above him, the faint scent of his cologne, the quiet strength in the man’s posture.
“Careful with that wire,” Verso’s voice said suddenly, commanding.
Gustave’s chest tightened.
“I… I know what I’m doing,” he said quickly, flexing the prosthetic to push the cable pack. His fingers brushed the cable, and for a moment he froze, aware of how close he was to Verso’s desk and, therefore, how close he was to Verso himself.
“I like how focused you are,” Verso continued, the words deliberate, almost teasing.
“So… intent on your work. Makes me wonder what else you can handle when you’re… careful.”
Gustave swallowed audibly, his hands fumbling slightly as heat rose to his cheeks.
He heard Verso walk to the door, locking the door to the office.
“I… uh… I need to get this connected-”
Verso leaned slightly forward over the desk, eyes sharp, unyielding.
“You’re very… thorough,” he said, voice low, assertive; “…but tell me, Gustave… are you always this precise, or is it just because I’m watching?”
The words made Gustave freeze mid-motion. His prosthetic twitched as he flexed the fingers nervously.
“I… I’m always… precise,” he stammered, though the rising heat in his chest betrayed him.
Verso’s lips curved slightly.
“Hmm. I like that,” he said softly, a hint of dominance in his tone.
“Careful. Attentive. Makes me trust that you… won’t make mistakes.”
Gustave’s hands trembled slightly as he tightened the final cable. He dared a glance up toward Verso, whose expression was calm, confident, almost intimidatingly intense.
“I… uh… it’s… done,” Gustave said, voice shaky.
Verso’s eyes narrowed slightly, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
“I think you enjoyed that a bit more than you’re admitting,” he said bluntly; “…being under here, so… close. Feeling… watched.”
Gustave froze, heat rushing to his face. His heart raced, fingers still gripping the cables. He tried to focus on the wires, on the mechanical task, but every word from Verso was a pulse in his chest, a warmth he couldn’t ignore.
“Careful,” Verso said softly, almost a growl now, leaning slightly closer; “I might… expect more of you when you’re this… attentive. If you… offer that kind of support?”
Gustave swallowed hard, heat climbing to his ears and neck.
“Y-yes,” he managed to whisper, though his voice betrayed him completely.
“Good,” Verso said finally, pulling back just enough to give him space, but the dominance lingered in the tilt of his head, the way his eyes held Gustave’s.
“Now finish up please, Gustave.”
Gustave exhaled shakily, finally testing the connections one last time. Lights blinked steadily, smooth and stable.
“It’s… done,” he said again, quieter this time, almost breathless.
Verso’s smirk lingered, faint but undeniably there.
“Well done,” he said.
Gustave climbed out from under the desk, brushing off his knees, heart hammering, cheeks bright red. He couldn’t quite look at Verso directly, yet the memory of the man’s commanding, blunt words lingered in his mind.
Both unnerving and exhilarating.
“Is there another problem I need to look at?” Gustave finally managed to mumble as he straightened his tie.
“Actually… yes,” Verso said softly, voice low, deliberate. Then, without warning, he closed the small distance between them and grabbed the tie and his hand on it. His lips pressed firmly against Gustave’s in a kiss that was both commanding and possessive.
Gustave froze for a heartbeat, shock rippling through him, before his knees nearly buckled. The dominance, it was overwhelming. He wanted to pull back, but something in the firm pressure of Verso’s mouth, the way his hands subtly guided him, made him stay.
When the kiss broke, just slightly, Verso’s bright eyes looked into his.
“Stay under the desk,” he said, blunt; “I like it more that way.”
Gustave’s mind spun. His chest was tight, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might echo across the office. He swallowed hard, nodding slowly.
“I… yes,” he whispered, voice barely audible.
Verso’s smirk softened into something almost predatory, yet carefully controlled. “Good. That’s what I thought. Now… under. Carefully. And don’t rush.”
Gustave hesitated for only a moment, then slid back under the desk, prosthetic flexing as he shifted. Every movement felt heightened, every breath charged with tension. Verso’s presence loomed over him, authoritative and commanding, and Gustave felt both terrified and exhilarated by it.
“You’re… very obedient when you’re focused like this,” Verso said, voice low, brushing a fingertip lightly along Gustave’s shoulder, careful but deliberate.
“I like that. Makes everything… better for both of us.”
“I… I’m trying,” he managed, voice tight and shaky.
“Good,” Verso said, leaning just enough to make the space smaller, more intimate, more tense.
“... and remember… you’re mine to guide right now.”
Gustave nodded.
“Open my belt,” Verso commanded him.
Gustave’s hand trembled as he tried to unfasten the belt, the movement awkward with the prosthetic. The click of the clasp sounded impossibly loud in the tiny space. He swallowed hard, flushing deeper, feeling every nerve in his body straining under the pressure of Verso’s gaze.
Even with the electric components in his prosthetic, it was hard to get it to cooperate.
The struggle made Gustave acutely aware of how exposed he was.
Physically awkward, emotionally raw, and utterly under Verso’s control. Every movement required thought, care, and submission to the command, and the frustration only heightened the heat pooling in his chest.
When he finally managed to undo the belt, Verso opened his slacks, pulling them down. Before he had to tell Gustave, Gustave was already moving closer.
He was gentle, taking Verso’s cock in his hand. He was even more gentle as he licked it, wanting to tease before going all the way.
Looked up, he was waiting for Verso to command him.
“Are you okay?” Verso did check. Gustave looked up. nodding.
“Good, start.”
Gustave didn’t need to be told twice. Within a few seconds he had Verso’s throbbing cock in his mouth. His moustache was scratchy and it only turned Verso on more. He tried to stifle his groan. While the door was locked, his secretary was not too far away.
“Harder,” he commanded Gustave.
Verso’s hand grabbed around the curls, pushing his head down as he moaned once again.
For a moment, Gustave seemed to choke. Verso loosened his grip but Gustave did not stop. Almost eager, he continued.
“That’s enough, stop,” Verso told him, wanting to stop before he came. There was so much more he wanted to do to Gustave.
Gustave finally looked up, spit all over his chin. Verso reached out, wiping it away with his thumb. Gustave was panting,
“You are so beautiful,” Verso told him, his hand under Gustave’s chin still.
“I liked it,” Gustave panted, his eyes almost closing. His eyelashes were so long, so gorgeous. There was something about him being so socially awkward, so vulnerable to Verso. Showing the vulnerable sides he had left behind a long time ago.
“Good,” Verso said, voice low and deliberate, the smirk tugging at his lips.
Gustave’s chest tightened, breath shallow. The pull of Verso’s dominance was undeniable, overwhelming in a way that made him feel exposed and… strangely exhilarated.
Suddenly, Verso leaned closer, his hands firm at Gustave’s shoulders, lifting him effortlessly from under the desk.
“Up,” he said simply, eyes locking on Gustave’s with that unyielding intensity.
Gustave’s knees barely left the floor before Verso’s hands guided him up, this time onto the edge of the desk. The sudden shift in perspective now, so close, so exposed, and with Verso towering over him made Gustave’s stomach flutter violently.
“You’re doing well,” Verso said, voice low, commanding, yet threaded with approval.
Gustave’s hands flexed the prosthetic nervously, tugging slightly at the edges of his sleeves.
“I… I-” His voice faltered, chest tight, heat rushing to his face.
“Can I?” Verso asked to his surprise.
Gustave nodded and Verso went for his belt this time. Gustave barely moved as Verso undid it, pulling down his pants. Pushing him against the desk, he turned Gustave around.
Verso was firm, almost rough as he closed in on Gustave.
Yet, Gustave didn’t feel threatened.
He wanted to be led.
Verso’s strong hands were holding him to the desk as he positioned him. Gustave didn’t object as Verso moved him around, His hand pressed to his back.
Already hard from Gustaves blow job, it wasn’t long before Verso entered him. It was rough, but Gustave didn’t mind.
His fist in his mouth, trying to stay quiet enough that Verso’s secretary wouldn’t hear, he could hardly hold on. Trying to stifle every moan that was trying to escape from him.
Only groans from delight. He could barely believe how good it was. Verso was dominant, yes.
It felt so good, Verso not only so strong and dominant, but just as much because he had been longing for something like this for a long time. Something he had not permitted himself since his accident.
Verso’s hands grabbed around his thighs even tighter as he pounded into Gustave even harder. His arm snaked around his stomach now, pulling Gustave upright. His hand moved up his body, around his jaw as he pressed his face against Gustave’s.
His hand was rough on his face, but it made Gustave want to beg for him not to stop.
“You are so tight,” Verso whispered in his ear.
Verso’s breath caught against his ear then.
The words leaving a trail of heat down Gustave’s spine. Everything blurred, only the steady rhythm between them. The world narrowed to warmth and heartbeat and the faint catch of his name on Verso’s lips.
When it ended, it was quiet. The room hummed with the aftertaste of what they hadn’t said. Verso’s hand lingered at his jaw, thumb brushing the line of his throat before falling away.
Gustave leaned back against him, still trembling, unsure if what he felt was exhaustion or relief. Verso pressed one last, soft kiss to his temple before pulling him close.
It had been so rough, yet there was some softness to Verso.
Gustave looked back as Verso finally let go of him.
“Fuck, that was good,” Verso sighed as he started to put on his slacks again. Gustave just stood there, not sure what to move. Maybe waiting for Verso to tell him what to do.
Verso handed him a small towel as well, pointing him to the small bathroom attached to his office. Gustave could hardly walk, adrenaline through his whole body and Verso having been so rough, but he made it. Cleaning up, he entered the office again after a few minutes. Verso had sat down at his desk again, as if nothing had happened.
“I – I should get back to work.”
Verso got up, gentle as he helped him with his tie.
“Thank you, Gustave,”
It was enough for Gustave to blush once again. This time, he didn’t need to be told by Verso what to do, instead he went in for a kiss.
As he finally started to move to leave, he turned back by the door. Verso looked so composed again, as if nothing had happened. His suit was still equally crisp, his hair perfect.
And Gustave? Gustave wished he could keep looking.
“I – should I close the ticket?”
“Yes,”
“Good I – I will send you a confirmation email,” Gustave said, stumbling over every word on his way to the door.
“Thank you, Gustave.” Verso told him. He looked up for just a second, flashing Gustave a smile. Gustave tried to reach for the door, his hand missing the doorknob and walking into the door. Even more flustered, he finally left the room.
Trying to compose himself as he walked back to his office, he wanted to scream.
In his office, he quickly moved into the storage where he kept all the spare devices. His face was burning from shame and delight. He finally had a job and now he was fucking it all up – fucking the sexy CEO.
Gustave had just finished gathering his things the next day, Friday. There was a beep of the prosthetic in his arm telling him he needed to charge it and his body running out of adrenaline. He hesitated at the edge of the office, still trying to steady his breathing, when the secretary’s voice cut through the quiet.
“Mr. Gustave, your ride is here,” she said politely, holding the door open.
Gustave blinked, momentarily confused.
His mind scrambled. What ride? For him? He hadn’t expected anything like this.
“Oh… uh… thank you,” he stammered, voice tight, cheeks reddening again.
He gathered his bag and jacket, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest. The secretary gave him a polite smile and stepped aside, and Gustave stepped into the lobby.
Outside, the city street was slick from a recent drizzle, lights reflecting off the wet asphalt. A sleek, black car waited, the tinted windows giving it an almost impossible-to-penetrate darkness. The driver, immaculately dressed, stepped forward and opened the rear door.
Gustave hesitated, heart hammering. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the instincts that had been sharpening all week told him this wasn’t just a ride home. Swallowing, he slid into the backseat.
The door clicked shut, and the interior was cool, quiet, almost luxurious.
The car rolled through the rainy streets of Lumière, quiet except for the faint hum of the motor and the occasional sigh of tires over water. Gustave sat rigid in the back seat, laptop bag clutched to his chest. Every few seconds he glanced toward the tinted windows.
When the car finally stopped, the driver stepped out and opened the door with the same formal precision.
“This way, sir.”
Gustave hesitated on the curb. The sign above the entrance gleamed in soft gold. The kind of place you booked weeks in advance and where a single glass of wine cost half his paycheck. He looked up at it, rain misting his hair.
“There must be some mistake?”
“Mr. Dessendre is expecting you,” the driver interrupted smoothly, already holding the door.
The warmth inside hit like velvet. Dim lights glowed against dark wood; the air smelled faintly of citrus and oak. A hostess led him past mirrored walls and hushed tables toward a curtained alcove. Gustave’s shoes squeaked once on the polished floor, and he winced at the sound.
Behind the curtain waited Verso. He rose from a small round table set for two, champagne already chilling in a silver bucket beside him.
The man looked impossibly at ease, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a glint of the city lights caught in the glass he was holding.
“Gustave,” Verso said, voice smooth, low; “...you made it.”
Gustave stood there a moment too long before managing a nod.
“I – I… guess yes. I wasn’t told where I was going.”
“I prefer surprises.” Verso gestured to the chair opposite; “sit. You’ve earned a proper evening after the week you’ve had.”
“I don’t think I’ve done anything that special,” Gustave muttered, but he sat anyway, careful with the prosthetic as he placed his bag on the floor.
Verso poured the champagne himself, bubbles catching the candlelight.
“You fixed three separate network failures and convinced accounting to stop using a fifteen-year-old server. That’s special enough.” He slid one glass across; “… besides, I wanted to talk without all the noise of the office… and you did something very special yesterday.”
“You weren’t that interested in talking yesterday,” Gustave mumbled as he took the glass from Verso.
“Neither were you,” Verso told him with a smile.
“I don’t think I fit under this table…” Gustave winked.
“As long as you fit under my desk, everything is fine,” Verso told him. Reaching over the table, he kissed Gustave.
“My outlook was slow again today,”
“Send me a ticket any time it does… and I will come see you,” Gustave promised, tilting his head against Verso’s hand.