After all, his position as the man’s personal assistant had given already Rhys his heart’s desire. A position higher than those of his many nemeses. A salary that allowed him to upgrade his wardrobe, to move him and Vaughn from their class-C apartment to a luxurious class-A. He had shoes for every day of the month and a jacuzzi tub that dispensed aromatic oils into the water. He could order out at his favorite, expensive restaurant whenever he wanted without worrying if he’d still have enough left over to pay utilities. Life was good.
He wasn’t about to throw that all away rebuking Jack’s advances. Even if they came at the most inopportune moments, when Rhys was deeply focused on work and far from interested in satisfying Jack’s needs.
“You’re tense, babydoll,” Jack growled as he licked the back of Rhys’ neck, breath hot against his skin. “Feels like you need daddy’s touch to help you unwind.”
It was hard not to be tense when he was about an hour behind work thanks to Jack’s tardiness, but there was no use in telling the CEO that, not when he was already panting like an animal. So Rhys left his hands slack against the arms of his chair, not resisting as Jack loomed behind him, one arm slinking down over his front.
Rhys had fucked far worse men than Jack—in both looks and temperament. The man had certainly earned the title “handsome” and though he often fell into fits of violence, if one was useful as Rhys had proved to be he was easier to mollify. Jack wouldn’t harm his tool, his toy, as long as Rhys did exactly what he wanted.
“You’re so damn sexy.” Jack’s hands slid to Rhys’ chest, groping his pecs through the material of his shirt. Rhys tilted his head back, moan parting his lips. Teeth worried against his neck as Jack bit him, drawing reddened bruises out of his skin as he popped open the buttons on Rhys’ shirt.
“I miss when you used to wear ties…” Jack’s hands pulled open the two undone sides of Rhys’ garment, revealing the paper-thin fabric of his undershirt. “I liked having something to pull.”
That’d been Vaughn’s idea. He’d fretted when Rhys came home with a ring of bruises around his neck for the fourth time in two weeks. Rhys had shrugged, willing to shake it off but Vaughn wouldn’t let it go. He’d gradually phased out the ties, hoping Jack wouldn’t notice.
But the CEO didn’t dwell on it now, not when he switched focus back to Rhys’ chest. Jack’s hands cupped the fullness of his assistant’s pecs, the bud of Rhys’ nipples pressing right up against his palms. Rhys moaned as they hardened with the massaging movement of Jack’s hands, obviously poking out through his undershirt when the CEO pulled away to look.
“You’re so damn sensitive, kiddo. Some guys might be ashamed if their boss touched them like this, but you really are a sick little trooper, ain’t you?”
Rhys was. Any reasonable person would have called HR months ago, when this first started—but a reasonable person has no business working under Handsome Jack. Only people like Rhys, who could tolerate and in some cases match Jack’s desires and inflated ego could survive under him for this long. Rhys took pride in that, like he took pride in the less degenerate aspects of his work.
They ended up fucking on Rhys’ desk, this time, Jack too worked up to bother hoisting Rhys over to his own. He kept Rhys on his back, dark blue pieces of clothing fluttering to the side, exposing his bare stomach where Jack had rucked up the filmy undershirt. Moans of praise and honey-sweet thanks danced on Rhys’ tongue, flattering Jack to finish, when he pulsed inside of his assistant and filled him with the sticky weight of come.
Jack left a trail of it when he pulled out, dripping down the edge of Rhys’ desk and onto the floor. Rhys shot him a slightly annoyed pout, knowing Jack would leave him to clean it up, but the CEO only laughed and reached forward, gripping his face.
“Don’t look so pissy, pumpkin. Everyone on Helios would be clamoring to take your place if they knew.”
Rhys understood. Which was why he’d never give up his position, no matter what Jack did to him.
Once the CEO retreated, satisfied and lazy as he sprawled into his chair, Rhys fixed up his desk, wiping down the cum and sweat clinging to the surface with a packet of tissues he kept in the left cabinet. He disposed of the soiled paper in the trash can by his feet and sat back straight in his chair. He pulled his undershirt back down and buttoned his shirt up, tucking the hem into his pants and bucking his belt.
Rhys left his collar undone, fingers brushing up against the swollen, bitten skin all around his throat. He wondered if by the time he left for home it would start to bruise, or they would merely stay red and chafed.
Rhys swallowed, closed his eyes and counted his breaths, throat twinging against the marred flesh.
Lowkey this is sorta cute tho??? I hella support this headcanon too
I can imagine finding the new sweet spot is more or less a cute game for them, with silent laughter and little kisses here and there, and then when Hank finds the new sweet spot, then that’s when things start to get steamy
A couple places Connor has placed his sweet spot before include:
His ankle
His lower back
Palm of his hand
His hip
Like you said, Hank doesn’t back down from a challenge, so when he finds out Connor moved his sweet spot to his forehead, he just fucking goes to town stimulating that spot, and even if they looked ridiculous to someone who would see them, Connor is enjoying himself immensely, and Hank always gets turned on from hearing the noises Connor makes
Then the next day at work, Connor would get so many fucking odd looks at the big ass blue hickey on his forehead, but he and Hank aren’t even embarrassed because damn did they have a fun ass night
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