HIDE

EPISODE 13 - REALISATION.

Brandon would like to say his life had changed monumentally after putting a c**k in his mouth, but… it didn’t. He didn’t feel any different. It had been weird at first, but he wasn’t really freaking out or traumatized or anything like that. But then again, why would he be? It wasn’t s*x. Neither of them considered that s*x. It was just a convenience thing for Wilson—and a way to get on Brandon’s nerves, no doubt—and just another tedious task for Brandon, one of the many that were part of his job. It wasn’t even the most unpleasant task if he didn’t fixate on the weirdness of the fact that he had another man’s c**k in his mouth—every damn day. Because it seemed hand jobs weren’t enough for Wilson anymore. The greedy son-of-a-b***h wanted his mouth. Not that Brandon didn’t get it. He did. He was a guy, too. As a guy, he would always prefer even an amateur blowjob to a hand job. And Brandon didn’t flatter himself by thinking that his blowjobs were anything but amateur. He had improved, somewhat—he’d learned how to hold his breath and not choke, and his jaw ached less because as f****d-up as it sounded, he was getting used to this. He was getting used to having a c**k in his mouth, f**k. The taste was all right, too.

Brandon hummed around the thick length in his mouth, inhaling deeply with his nose as the c**k pushed in and out of him. Wilson’s hand was buried in his hair, holding him still in such a bossy, proprietary way that it was actually more infuriating and distracting than the c**k thrusting into his mouth. The door wasn’t locked, once again. A wave of embarrassment washed over Brandon as he imagined someone entering the room without a knock and seeing him on his knees between his boss’s legs, having his mouth used. The worst part was, he was pretty sure the bastard wouldn’t even bother to stop if anyone were to enter. Wilson always acted like using Brandon’s mouth was his right. As if he was entitled to it. As if there was nothing embarrassing about it. Regardless of their sexualities, and Brandon had to admit that kind of attitude rubbed off on him in the worst possible way, making him feel like there was nothing unusual or weird about it. But there were still times like this when it hit him how utterly wrong this was. In normal circumstances, he would never suck another man’s c**k, especially where anyone could enter and see them, and yet here he was, doing exactly that. Was it some kind of weird form of addiction? Had Wilson brainwashed him into thinking that he must do everything to please his boss?

“Teeth,” Wilson bit out, his grip on Brandon’s hair tightening. “Mind your teeth,” he repeated.

Covering his teeth better, Brandon pushed his thoughts away and focused on sucking c**k. Whatever. There was no use freaking out about this. It would be over soon enough. He would be free of this man and the strange effect he had on him in one week. Just one week to go. Brandon started sucking the c**k faster.

***

“Details.”

Brandon pulled a white shirt out of the wardrobe and turned back to his boss. “Ultra Sounds director wants to have a meeting with you regarding the enhanced HD version of the sounds department, preferably today—”

“Put him on Friday,” Wilson said, loosening his tie. 

Making a mental note to do so, Brandon continued. “Kardi C wants a transfer of management, and he is rooting for ours—”

“Fix a meeting with him immediately. Tomorrow.”

The answer pleased Brandon. He has always been a huge fan of Kadi C. At least if the proposition works, he gets to have one of his favourite artists managed under his company, and maybe he can get as many autographs as he wants. 

“Do you have a location in mind for the meeting?”

“You will be representing me.”

“You’ll have to attend this yourself,” he said. “I don’t think they’ll believe that I’m standing in for you.”

Wilson heaved a sigh but nodded, stretching out his hand, a silent command to give him his work phone.

After finding the right contact, Brandon handed the phone to him and then stepped closer. Dropping the new shirt on the desk, Brandon resumed where Wilson had left off. He wasn't interested in the phone conversation, as he was busy making mental jubilation of how he was going to brag to Britney about the future addition of their favourite musician to the agency. He absentmindedly focused on unbuttoning Wilson’s shirt and then slipping it off his wide shoulders. 

He greedily inhaled a lungful of his boss’s scent. Damn, that cologne was so nice, masculine but subtle and nuanced. He wondered how expensive it was. He would have liked to get it for himself if it didn’t cost his entire life savings.

Setting the shirt aside, Brandon was about to reach for the new one when he noticed a familiar tension in Wilson’s body. A downward glance confirmed it: his boss was half-hard, his c**k straining his fly. He licked his lips. Oh. He might as well deal with it before putting on a new shirt.

His fingers were already undoing Wilson’s belt before he even made a conscious decision. Brandon pulled the zipper open and knelt at his boss’s feet.

Wilson’s c**k was almost fully hard by the time Brandon fished it out of Wilson’s boxer briefs.

Closing his eyes, Brandon took the c**k into his mouth. He had to admit there was something oddly entrancing about it: the rhythm of a c**k moving inside him, the way his head became empty of all thought. It was somewhat intoxicating, in and out, in and out.

Brandon heard someone moan, and it took him a few moments to realize that the sound had come from him. His eyes snapped open. Several things registered at once. He was sucking his boss’s c**k without even being told to. He was half-hard in his pants. From sucking a c**k. His horrible boss’s c**k. What the f**k.

He froze, his eyes wide. Then he released the c**k and sprang to his shaky feet. His cheeks burning, he darted out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He then wiped at his lips harshly, as if that would wipe away the taste of the c**k inside his mouth. What the hell! What had he been doing?

“Brandon? Something wrong?” Becky’s voice seemed to be coming from afar.

Brandon blinked, staring at her confused face without really seeing it, his mind racing a mile a minute. He almost laughed. Everything is fine. I was just brainwashed into liking Wilson’s c**k in my mouth.

“I need to go home,” Brandon blurted out. “Tell him I caught the flu.”

“Okay,” she said, glancing at the door behind Brandon and wincing a little. “But can’t you tell him yourself? He isn’t going to be happy. He likes having you at his beck and call at all times.”

Yeah, you have no idea.

“He’s on the phone,” Brandon said, already heading for the elevator. “I don’t want to interrupt his conversation.”

He needed to leave. He needed to leave now.

Brandon barely remembered how he got back home. Considering his distracted state, it was probably lucky he hadn’t managed to get himself killed.