Tag: rhack

please some consensual ovi, with anyone, just stuff them til they can’t walk please

whew, getting back into the swing of writing is a little hard. but i wrote a little fluffy something with an eridian mutated jack that i hope you like!

Rhys wasn’t used to not being able to use his own two legs, but with the attention Jack lavished on him he hardly missed it.

He did miss not being able to see his toes or lay down in any position he wanted without uncomfortable pressure weighing against his hips and spine, but the amount of kisses and hugs and—other—things Jack lavished on him made even those losses a little less galling.

Some other man might freak out about being stuffed with eggs even when waited on hand and foot, but Rhys considering he had already witnessed his wealthy lover turning into a scaly, Eridian-mutated monster, he felt pretty sure he was immune to freaking out an further.

So he was going to lay down in the blanket nest he’d built himself on Jack’s massive leather couch, turn on his favorite programs, and gorge himself on a bowlful of ice cream and potato chips until his boyfriend came home.

The eggs shifted slightly inside of him as he sat himself up a bit more against the arm of the chair, bowl of half-melted chip ice cream balanced between his chest and his swollen belly. The blue T-shirt he’d ordered not a few days ago was already stretched taunt across his middle, material holding out even as his brood grew even larger in size.

Jack had fussed during those first few weeks over how many eggs he’d put into Rhys in that first fit of hormonal passion, but Rhys had mostly shrugged it off. He figured if he ended up in any real danger, Jack’s wealth and Hyperion’s medical advancements could probably take care of him. So he kept on laying back, resting and eating and marveling with semi-morbid fascination at the size of his growing stomach.

Rhys set aside the now-empty bowl of ice cream before sitting up even more, his blanket pooling in his lap as he rolled up the hem of his shirt, peering down at the swollen bulge of his stomach. He rubbed his cybernetic hand down the ample curve, now able to feel the subtle bumps of the eggs underneath his stretched skin with every stroke.

He ended up getting a little bit lost in feeling his stomach, not noticing the soft click of the penthouse door closing shut, nor the thump of footfalls until they were right on top of him. And then it was too late, and Jack’s muscular arms were wrapping around Rhys’ chest, warm breath billowing against his ear.

“Enjoying the view there, kiddo?”

A quiet yelp escaped from between Rhys’ teeth, muscles in his neck tensing as his boyfriend nuzzled up against his cheek. He snorted softly as his heart stopped its surprised racing, one hand lifting to cradle the side of Jack’s head as he turned and lightly kissed his lover’s fanged lips.

“Not really much of a view…I can’t see much past my stomach…” A slight sardonic tone filtered into his voice, though he lost it when Jack’s warm palm reached around to rest against the swell of his stomach, his touch affectionate despite the curl of his wicked, black claws and the glowing patches of purple scales trailing from wrist to knuckle.

“Well…gotta say it’s pretty sweet and sexy from over here…much better than staring at a whole lotta nothing in the office,” Jack purred, knees thumping to the floor as he crouched next to the couch where Rhys’ lay. “Miss you there, pumpkin.”

“Jack, if I could waddle all the way down to the office, believe me, I would, but…” Rhys had only got up twice today, once to go to the bathroom and once to grab his ice cream-chip concoction. He wasn’t exactly in the business of locomotion at the moment.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. At least I can rest easy knowing you’re safe at home, though…and show you how much I miss you whenever I get back.” The way Jack smiles, showing off all the new sets of teeth he’d grown ever since his mutation, sends shivers of anticipation down into Rhys’ overfull gut. Jack knows how horny he’s gotten ever since he’d been impregnated, a fact both of them enjoy thoroughly.

His fingers lace over the back of Jack’s hand, an interested growl rousing up from his throat as his thighs rub together underneath the blanket.

“By all means…go ahead and show me, big guy.”

“You in Vermillion”

The rational part of Jack’s brain that remained nagged at him to pay attention lest he lose the iron grip of power he had clenched on this arm of the galaxy, but it got harder and harder to pay it mind when thinking about what he wanted to do to Rhys was about a thousand times more pleasurably than approving the next barely-tweaked prototype that came to his desk.

Jack rested his chin in his palm, letting his eyes drift over to the right where Rhys was sitting, desk placed slightly in front of Jack’s own so he could always keep an eye on his assistant. Rhys paid him little mind, if he even noticed, and continued tapping out messages and project requests on the illuminated display shimmering from out of his palm. He could see the side of Rhys’ face occasionally, when he glanced over to his left, and even that little sliver lit Jack’s fantasies on fire.

Basically just Jack’s internal monologue about all the stuff he wants to do to Rhys. 😉 Warning for some dark stuff like knifeplay and improper use of corsets and general Jack creepiness. 

It’d been a long while since Jack had first realized his new assistant was sexy beyond all belief.

Sure, when Jack had first hired Rhys, he’d recognized the kid wasn’t all that bad to look at. But it was only when they’d worked alongside one another for about a month that Jack truly fell head over heels with infatuation for the kid.

He couldn’t put his finger on the exact trigger—could have been the first time he noticed Rhys’ tendency to roll the end of his stylus between his lips as he thought, or the time Rhys dropped a folder full of shotgun plans and had to bend down and pick them up, or the time he came in late to work without his hair styled, bangs soft and floppy against his forehead—but whatever had caused him to trip into his obsession, he was really in deep now.  

He considered himself lucky he had Rhys always double checking his messages and advising him on his actions, otherwise he might’ve driven Hyperion into the ground as a consequence of all the daydreaming he did whenever Rhys came into the office. The rational part of Jack’s brain that remained nagged at him to pay attention lest he lose the iron grip of power he had clenched on this arm of the galaxy, but it got harder and harder to pay it mind when thinking about what he wanted to do to Rhys was about a thousand times more pleasurably than approving the next barely-tweaked prototype that came to his desk.

Jack rested his chin in his palm, letting his eyes drift over to the right where Rhys was sitting, desk placed slightly in front of Jack’s own so he could always keep an eye on his assistant. Rhys paid him little mind, if he even noticed, and continued tapping out messages and project requests on the illuminated display shimmering from out of his palm. He could see the side of Rhys’ face occasionally, when he glanced over to his left, and even that little sliver lit Jack’s fantasies on fire.

Rhys could be such a pretty little toy for Jack if the CEO wanted him to. There were so many things Jack wanted to do with him, ideas that had flourished thanks to these long work days he shared with Rhys. Sometimes, Jack would close his eyes and listen, picking up on the faint sounds of Rhys breathing as he wondered how those might change if Jack were to finally get the young man pinned underneath him, or crouched between his legs, or any number of positions Jack loved to mentally cycle through.

He knew Rhys would look wonderful naked. Though he layered on plenty of clothing that didn’t add much to his figure, Jack could still see the general shape of his body beneath the boxy vest and conservative collared shirt, especially with the help of the fairly tight pair of jeans he usually sported. Those long, long, long legs really sparked Jack’s imagination, and he couldn’t help but think about what they might look like spread out on the edge of his desk, or lying naked against the sheets in his bed.

But a nude Rhys wasn’t the only version that danced through his daydreams, no. In fact, there were plenty of garments and accessories saved in his online shopping lists that he’d held off purchasing solely because he had no one to dress them up in. But now, with a new paramour in his sights, Jack mentally dressed his assistant in all of those old favorites. He could think of quite a few that would look fantastic on Rhys’ supple body. There were plenty of tight little shorts that would perfectly hug to the young man’s ass and squeeze his thighs, sleek little crop tops made from fabric so thin they’d show off his nipples as they grew hard beneath Jack’s touch.

Not to mention the countless more feminine clothes Jack browsed when he found himself in a very particular mood. He couldn’t help imagine Rhys wrapped up in all the tights and dresses and skirts he liked best. He watched how Rhys walked and moved sometimes, with a slight awkwardness like he wasn’t sure what to do with his long limbs and height even after all these years, and imagined how that lanky body might look in clothes and accessories designed to magnify grace and posture. Despite his stature, maybe even because of it, Jack felt it’d suit him.

The boy already wore heels, so the kind of footwear Jack had in mind for him wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. Jack liked boots that stretched all the way up to the knee, covered in shiny leather and studded with metal. Dagger sharp heels, too. If he felt a little permissive, he might even allow Rhys to dig the tips into his chest or stomach. Though he heavily favored causing pain to others, Jack could enjoy a little masochism on occasion.

As long as Rhys knew his place, it’d be fine, and the kid was nothing if not loyal. He advised Jack on certain matters, giving a second opinion whenever the CEO needed it, but when push came to shove he’d always defer to Jack’s call. Like a good boy.

Rhys suddenly coughed to the right, drawing Jack’s attention. He tilted his head further in the direction of his assistant, watching him more directly. Rhys didn’t notice, grabbing for a sip of water to ease his cough before returning to work. Jack watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his fist clenching atop his desk.

Has Rhys ever sucked a dick before? He wondered, eyes briefing drifting down between his legs to his own crotch. He could see Rhys there already, hands nervously braced against Jack’s knees. Fun as it would be to discover Rhys had been a secret blowjob machine all along, he couldn’t push the idea of a virginal, eager-to-please version of his assistant zipped down his pants and taking his cock in hand like it were made of gold, treating it with reverent nerves as he nudged the head of Jack’s dick in between his trembling lips.

But a blowjob would just be the start. Jack couldn’t possibly be satisfied with exploring Rhys’ mouth alone. He wanted to take his time, to properly savor the young man, to draw him out like a piece of sinew, pull him taunt and ready to snap, pliable to Jack’s own pleasure.

And his appetite for pleasure was bottomless.

Jack’s eyes fluttered half closed, shadowing out the rest of the office until Rhys was all he could focus on.

God. One thing he’d love to do would be to put Rhys in a corset before he properly screwed him. One of the few things he regretted following his breakup and subsequent bad blood with Moxxi was that now he couldn’t properly enjoy the way that kind of garment pinched and sucked someone in at the sides without being reminded of old, bitter feelings. But Rhys was new enough, exceptional enough that Jack could feel himself swayed back if only he got a chance to stick Rhys in one. Sure, he probably didn’t have a woman’s waist, even when stripped of his stiff vest and shirt, but with a corset cinched around him Jack could force one into being.

He wanted to dress Rhys up in stockings, watching the fragile, pearly fabric slid over his legs—Jack liked to imagine Rhys shaved, but if not, he would do it for him—before he clipped them to the underside of the corset with delicate little garter belts. He’d get behind Rhys, maybe even have the young man sit in his lap, He wanted to pull the cords and watch Rhys’ waist tighten under the corset’s tight boning, until his breath became labored and he looked up at Jack with wet, desperate eyes and flushed cheeks. He wanted to see tears dripping down that beautiful face as Rhys realized his right to breath was entirely clenched within Jack’s fists.

He could feel something warm deep in his stomach churning at the thought of Rhys gasping for breath. A little bit of pain really did Jack in, like the last pinch of pepper atop a perfectly crafted meal.

He leaned back further into his chair, one hand drifting down below the edge of his desk to rest against his upper thigh.

Sometimes his fantasies got darker. Things he’d never been able to execute before, considering most of his lays had always wanted to continue living after a night with Jack. He was sure there was some sick creep somewhere on Hyperion that wouldn’t mind if Handsome Jack stabbed or strangled the life out of them, to sacrifice themselves on the altar of his holy boner, but he knew all too well the kinds of men and women who fell in that category, and they didn’t exactly overlap with the group he usually considered safe or appealing to bang. The group that now revolved around his lovely assistant.

Yet he didn’t want to kill Rhys. Wouldn’t dare do it, he’d miss the pretty young man too much, and it seemed a waste to throw away daily interactions with his obsession for one fleeting moment of pleasure. It wouldn’t be worth it, as much as Jack relished short-term gratification.

But within the safety of his own mind, Jack could entertain even the most vile of fantasies. After all, Rhys would bleed so nice and pretty. His skin looked so soft and pale, almost fuzzy and glowing at the edges like some kind of angel constantly blessing Jack with his presence.

He wanted to taint it so badly.

Jack had a blade tucked away in the drawer of his desk back at his penthouse bedroom. It lay nestled in a fancy box lined with plum velvet, a gift from an antiques dealer Jack had once aided in plundering some ruins deep within Hyperion-controlled territory. He’d kept the blade razor-sharp over the years, its steel perfectly oiled and ornate gold handle free of grime and dust. He could see the glow of the red pommel stone in his mind’s eye, always tempting him with the delicious color it could draw from only the most special of victims.

The edge of the knife would look wonderful pressed up against Rhys’ skin, the cuts to his flesh so fine at first they’d be imperceptible until blood swelled up from the delicate wounds and started to trickle down Rhys’ skin. Jack imagined it’d cling to the wispy hairs he’d noted on Rhys’ human forearm that he’d assumed and hoped patterned the rest of his body.

He would love to watch as the blood trickled down from the cuts he made in Rhys’ flesh, listen to the little cries of pain as they spilled from his lips. He would drink them happily, pressing their mouths together as his fingers spread through the blood dripping down Rhys’ body, feeling it grow tacky as it smeared against his skin.

Jack was no artist, no man concerned with beauty aside from worship of his own image, but still he felt he could paint a beautiful piece in blood on Rhys’ body. It helped having such a wondrous canvas, after all.

The sudden screech of wheels against steel floor snapped Jack out of his daydreams. He rapidly blinked the fog from his eyes as Rhys suddenly appeared far closer than he’d been before. It took Jack a couple of seconds to get back to reality and realize Rhys had risen up from his chair, looking over at him with an expectant expression.

“Is there anything else you need me to do today, sir?” Jack’s eyes quickly flicked to the monitor to his left. Wow. Quitting time already? The afternoon had really just flown by.

Rhys already had his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, delicate fingers of his flesh hand twiddling against the strap as he stood still. Waiting on Jack’s command. Briefly, he wondered what Rhys would do if he gave voice to any of the numerous fantasies that’d swarmed his mind. The temptation danced on the tip of his tongue for a moment, before he smothered it with a coy smile that held so much back that Rhys would never understand.  

“Nope. You can go home now, sugar.”

Not to mention the countless more feminine clothes Jack browsed when he found himself in a very particular move. He couldn’t help imagine Rhys wrapped up in all the tights and dresses and skirts he liked best. He watched how Rhys walked and moved sometimes, with a slight awkwardness like he wasn’t sure what to do with his long limbs and height even after all these years, and imagined how that lanky body might look in clothes and accessories designed to amplify grace and posture. Despite his stature, maybe even because of it, Jack felt it’d suit him.

The boy already wore heels, so the kind of footwear Jack had in mind for him wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. Jack liked boots that stretched all the way up to the knee, covered in shiny leather and studded with metal. Dagger sharp heels, too. If he felt a little permissive, he might even allow Rhys to dig the tips into his chest or stomach. Though he heavily favored causing pain to others, Jack could enjoy a little masochism on occasion.

As long as Rhys knew his place, it’d be fine, and the kid was nothing if not loyal. He advised Jack on certain matters, giving a second opinion whenever the CEO needed it, but when push came to shove he’d always defer to Jack’s call. Like a good boy.

Working on that fic where Jack fantasizes about Rhys c;

“Brought to Heel”

The boots had a slight heel, leaving Rhys to wonder if they added much to Jack’s height. As it stood, he guessed he had about an inch or two on Jack even without his own boots, so if he got up he might finally be just as tall as Rhys, if not a little taller.

But Jack wasn’t moving from his chair. He sat, one leg crossed over the other, the leather toe of one boot bobbing up and down as Jack watched him with a curled, smug grin. Daring Rhys to speak first, to make the first move.

He swallowed, trying to find his voice, to reel his mind back from a flurry of increasingly dirty fantasies.

“Those…those are some boots.” Rhys finally managed after a moment’s stammering.

Jack’s grin curled further at the edges.

More PA Rhys! This time he buys a pair of fancy new boots, only for Jack to dust off his own pair and try to show him up. This was fun to write! I hope you guys like it 😉

Buy me a coffee!

Rhys’ job as Jack’s personal assistant came with a lot of juicy benefits.

Chief of which, of course, was the treasured opportunity to work on such an intimate level with the King of Hyperion himself. Though Jack could be a bit of a handful—and then some—Rhys still valued the opportunity to assist his hero, even in the minutiae of his daily life. Seeing Jack in those early hours of the morning, or just as the work down wound to a close, or during those rare times when both of them had to stay overtime, sometimes well into the evening; was a genuine treat even when the stress of running Hyperion ramped up Jack’s changeable moods.

Yet, the privilege of working with Jack wasn’t the only boon Rhys earned through virtue of working as his personal assistant. Of course, there was the smug sense of pride he felt knowing every other Handsome Jack-fan on Helios was seething with envy at Rhys’ exclusive position. He’d seen the quick turns of head and heard the murmurs as he walked to work each morning, and caught wind of some of the more salacious rumors that made him smirk and blush to himself even as he went through such mundane motions of bringing Jack coffee or shredding old paper reports.

And of course, there was the money.

Hyperion paid most of its workers well enough for a company that, at best, dabbled in ethics. Rhys had never gone hungry working as a middle manager, and the apartment he’d shared with Vaughn had always adequately provided their needs without completely sapping up their paychecks.

But working for Jack put his personal wealth on a whole other level.

Rhys had more money now than he knew how to do with. Even ramping up on spoiling both his friends and himself with food and gifts hadn’t made much of a dent. He already owned plenty of stock by virtue of his employment, and he didn’t have any external projects or startups he was particularly interested in throwing personal investment behind.

So Rhys had started pursuing some of his more luxurious vices. It’d been awhile since he’d updated his wardrobe, after all. He exercised a little restraint, though, and started small.

Small for him, at least.

Rhys had seen the boots in the window at one of the Hub of Hyperion’s luxury boutiques, modeled on the long, chrome legs of one of the display mannequins. He usually didn’t go for knee high footwear, but these glinted in the show lights, highlighting each little scale of the expensive leather. Straps crisscrossed over the shin of the boots, each clasped with a delicate golden “H.” It looked more runway than office assistant, but god, Rhys had never wanted any pair of shoes more in his life. And considering his already extensive collection—that was saying something.

He’d almost walked out upon hearing the price from the saleswoman, but he quickly reminded himself just how much money he was making at Jack’s assistant before slapping down his new, weighty gold Hyperion credit card.  

They were easily the most expensive article of clothing Rhys had ever purchased, but the feeling that washed over him when he walked to work the next morning with the boots fitted perfectly to his legs was worth it.  

He felt powerful, his heels clacking against the steel floor as he strode through the Hub on his way to Jack’s office. Heads swiveled, eyes focused, and gossip flitted about between the people watching him. He felt even more the center of attention than usual, bolstering his ego even as he went through such mundane tasks as grabbing his and Jack’s morning coffee and breakfast. He’d even snagged two complements on his boots already, from the barista making their drinks and from an excitable young woman who’d just purchased her own purse from the very same store Rhys had got his boots.

Walking into Jack’s office, he was feeling pretty good. Even more psyched to start the day than he usually was, his every step energized as he walked down the hallway towards Jack’s main office door and buzzed himself in.

As always, Jack was already sitting in his desk by the time Rhys arrived. If he didn’t witness Jack leaving at the end of the day, he might assume the CEO just pulled a cot out of his desk and slept there.

Rhys chirped his usual greeting as he deposited Jack’s coffee and breakfast on his desk, taking his time and positioning himself so Jack would hopefully notice his new shoes. At first, Jack ignored his efforts, leaving Rhys frustrated, until he finally decided to just cut to the chase.

“So, I got some new shoes,” he stated loudly, standing off to the side of Jack’s desk. His boss’s eyes flicked up at him over the blue display he’d been studying.

“And…?

“Well, I wanted to get a second opinion, you know. So what do you think?” Rhys slid one hand down his thigh as he stuck his leg out, striking a bit of a pose. Jack raised his eyebrow, leaning out from behind his desk to get a proper look.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. Jack stiffened in his chair, eyes instantly zeroing in on the heel of Rhys’ boots. His lower lip stuck out slightly, brows furrowing together. Rhys watched Jack’s throat bob as he turned his boot to the side, showing off the straps and little Hyperion studs properly.

“They’re….they’re fine.” The CEO eventually replied, voice tighter than usual as he forced himself to return to his work.

Rhys smirked to himself. He could tell that Jack liked them. Honestly, he had been hoping that Jack would take notice and appreciate his purchase. And his dirtier side had definitely spent the better part of last night in bed, unable to properly get to sleep because his mind kept drifting to the thought of Jack fucking him over his desk, with Rhys clad in nothing below the belt save those boots.

Well. It was a fun fantasy, at least.

Unfortunately Jack didn’t whisk him off his feet and ravish him with mouth and cock thanks to the boots, but he had given them a long look and complimented Rhys on them, so that was something at least. Rhys could live with that. They were both professionals, after all. They couldn’t waste time fucking each others brains out, no matter how much sexy clothes Rhys bought.

Rhys caught Jack following him with his eyes as he clacked on over to his own desk. He had an even more confident spring in his step as he walked, brimming with pride he’d distracted his boss so much with a mere change in footwear. He finally flounced down on his chair, kicking slightly away from his desk to show off his boots and the full length of his legs as he nursed his coffee.

Jack ended up getting a little less done that particular workday than Rhys would typically approve of, but in this case, he felt he could let it slide.

“Good morning, sir.” Rhys approached Jack’s desk with his usually greeting, both of their cups and coffee stuck in a carrier nestled between his forearm and chest and their pastries clutched in his flesh arm. At first he didn’t notice anything amiss, as Jack met him with his usual “hey, sugar,” though he did seem a little bit distracted. Rhys didn’t think much of it, heels clicking to a halt in front of Jack’s desk as he dislodged his coffee from its carrier and deposited it next to his boss’s breakfast. He was just about to leave to enjoy his own meal when a heavy bang rattled against the surface of Jack’s desk, sending his coffee cup, tablet, and picture frames rattling as he propped his feet up on the table. Rhys’ mouth opened, just about to ask Jack what the hell he was doing startling him like that, when his eyes suddenly drew to the new shoes the CEO now sported.

Rather, the boots.

Rhys had never seen Jack change his footwear. Honestly, he’d gotten used to the sneakers, even made a couple of light jokes at their expense as soon as he trusted he wouldn’t be tossed out the airlock for insubordination. They were….fine. They didn’t particularly detract from Jack’s image. They were neutral, like club soda in the mojito he drank occasionally to take the edge off work stress.

But these boots. These boots.

They had a sturdy elegance to them unlike the pure functionality of Jack’s usual shoes. They looked obviously worn, not just lifted right out of the box like Rhys’ new boots, with leather slightly ratty on the edges and scuffs on the rubbery toes.

They had a slight heel, leaving Rhys to wonder if they added much to Jack’s height. As it stood, he guessed he had about an inch or two on Jack even without his own boots, so if he got up he might finally be just as tall as Rhys, if not a little taller.

But Jack wasn’t moving from his chair. He sat, one leg crossed over the other, the leather toe of one boot bobbing up and down as Jack watched him with a curled, smug grin. Daring Rhys to speak first, to make the first move.

He swallowed, trying to find his voice, to reel his mind back from a flurry of increasingly dirty fantasies.

“Those…those are some boots.” Rhys finally managed after a moment’s stammering.

Jack’s grin curled further at the edges.

“You like them? Yeah, I saw what you were wearing yesterday, and it reminded me that I have a pair of my own.” He gestured towards his legs. “Dusted ‘em off just for you, cupcake. Congratulations.”

For him. What did that mean? Jack could be teasing him, sure. He wasn’t exactly ignorant of Rhys’ fanboy devotion, in fact it’d been one of the ticks in his favor when he’d been interviewing for the position.

But. Maybe Jack was hinting at more than a little teasing about his celebrity crush.

Rhys twiddled the finger of his flesh hand, tongue flicking out to lick his upper lip as he watched Jack slid his boots off the desk and rested them again the floor and thought. While he’d learned to bide his time and act only when it was smartest to do so, he couldn’t deny some of his most monumental choices had been made on impulse.

He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed a moment as he counted to four, before putting on the most confident, seductive face he could muster.

“You know…these are a little dirty.” Rhys’ heels clicked closer and closer to Jack until he was close enough to carefully rest his hand against the arm of Jack’s chair. The CEO’s fingers twitched, but he made no move to grab him or shove him off, especially not when Rhys slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of Jack.

“There are ways to clean boots properly…special wax and cloths and stuff. I can get you some after, but….for now…”

He slid his fingers underneath the heel of the boot propped up against Jack’s knee. The older man allowed this, letting Rhys lift the shoe up until the toe nearly brushed against Rhys’ lips. This close, Rhys could see little creases of old blood in the leather, remnants from Jack’s past. An excited, sick little thrill vibrated up his spine at the sight, the slight metallic taste on the tip of his tongue as he opened his mouth and leaned forward.

It was brazen. Crazy. He half expected Jack to lash out and call him a freak, to permanently imprint the heel of his boot into Rhys’ forehead for daring to do something so forward. But Jack stayed still save for the slight twitch of his fingers against the armrests as Rhys dragged his tongue across the toe of the boot.

Rhys wished he could feel disgusted with himself. He really had no idea how often Jack cleaned these boots, or if he’d even cleaned them at all before he threw them in his wardrobe to collect dust for years. For all Rhys knew, they could be crusted with more than just blood he could see evidence of. Maybe also guts or brain good or moon dirt that’d probably been crawling with freaky alien microbes.

But he couldn’t help himself. His stomach and groin were tight with need to impress his boss, driving him to lick the toe of Jack’s boots until all the rubber looked slick with Rhys’ saliva. He finished with another gentle kiss to the tip of the boot, eyes finally lifting to see how Jack was reacting.

Rhys had never seen the CEO blush before. Honestly, he’d never really thought it possible. He didn’t understand the exact mechanics of Jack’s mask, how it managed such an obviously artificial look while retaining enough responsivity that he didn’t end up looking like some horrible, uncanny mannequin. It worked well enough as a second face, but still, Rhys had never believed he’d ever see a dusting of pink on those pale, slightly waxy cheeks.

Rhys continued his cleaning, blindly rubbing his tongue against the CEO’s boot as he watched Jack.

Their eyes didn’t meet—instead, Jack’s followed the movements of Rhys’ mouth as he licked the tacky, slightly dry taste from his mouth. His fingers curled against the edge of the armrests, like he needed to restrain himself from bolting up and doing something to Rhys—either to kick his ass for insolence or throw him against the desk and fuck him raw.

God, Rhys wanted that so bad.

He tried grounding himself on the task at hand, tucking away his salacious prayers in the back of his mind as he finished cleaning the tip of Jack’s boots. He pulled away, leaving his tongue hanging like the tease his was, little strands of saliva glistening briefly before falling away. He licked his lips, smiling all coy and curled like a cat up a the man in the chair.

The bulge in Jack’s pants didn’t escape Rhys’ notice, and filled him with a smug sense of pride. Not many could make Handsome Jack himself hard in his pants through only touching his boots. Well, licking his boots, too.

“There’s still one more,” Rhys murmured, sliding his hands to Jack’s other calf. “May I?”

Jack nodded a little too quickly, his legs uncrossing as he presented his other boot to Rhys’ hands and tongue. Rhys cradled the heel of the boot in his palm, kissing along the tip before pressing the flat of his tongue and cutting a wide swath of wet against the dark rubber.

Rhys cleaned the left boot a little quicker than the right, his own arousal unraveling his patience. Jack’s bulge taunted him out of the corner of his eye—the rumors he’d heard about the CEO’s member apparently confirmed, unless Jack was using some kind of device to enhance himself. Whether or not he lived up to expectations in the department of size seemed irrelevant—Jack could fuck him with his fingers along and Rhys would keen like a desperate slut on every thrust. He wanted badly, unable to stop a soft whine ghosting over the toe of Jack’s boot as he pulled off suckling the toe and looked up at CEO with big, pleading eyes.

To his great relief, he didn’t have to wait long.

“You know, you really need to learn to put your mouth to better use,” Jack grunted, his fingers fisting tighter into the fabric of Rhys’ shirt. He swallowed, the curve of his collar biting into the back of his neck.

“Yes, sir.” Rhys wet his lips as his eyes drifted to the crotch of Jack’s jeans, where a hand had started to fiddle with the zipper. His heart leapt in his chest, beating fiercely against his ribs at the first sign of soft yellow fabric as the CEO undid his pants.

Handsome Jack wore Hyperion boxers.

Hah! Rhys had been right all along.

Ten minutes and one out of many realized fantasies later, and Rhys was wiping a little dribble of Jack’s cum from his lips as he swallowed around the rest. His stomach did a giddy little dance at the realization that Jack’s seed was now inside him, evidence he’d finally sucked his hero’s cock. The back of his throat burned slightly from where the head of Jack’s dick had repeatedly rubbed up against it, but that pain, as well as the ache in his knees from kneeling so long, felt exhilarating. Like he’d just run and won a marathon.

“Well…” Rhys started, chuckling hoarsely as he pushed himself up to his feet. His legs trembled, but he finally managed with the help of Jack’s desk to straighten to his proper posture. He glanced over Jack’s resting body, smirking at the flush on his cheeks and the sweat beading over his creased brow. He’d really done a number on the older man, who still sat with legs now spread, his cock out and slicked with drying cum and Rhys’ saliva.

“We…we should probably get you cleaned up, right?” Rhys dared to lean forward and take Jack’s hand, feeling his far larger fingers twitch in the hold. But Jack was dead weight on his arm, not moving even when Rhys gave him an insistent tug.

“Whoops…” A sheepish smile crossed the CEO’s dazed expression, making him look far loopier than the most dangerous man in Hyperion had a right to be. “You know…it really took me a hot second to get into these boots in the first place and….well…”

Jack shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his quivering knees.

“I’m not exactly used to walking in heels and…anyway…I can’t really move my legs right now.”