HIDE

EPISODE 12 - AND THE MOUTH TOO.

Wilson knew that he couldn't feel anything less than gratitude towards Brandon for saving his ass numerous times. Now, the thought of women was far-fetched in his busy mind. His nightmares subsided and the worry of his father was almost wiped from his thoughts. All because Brandon was doing a better job than Wilson's booty calls.

That was how the whole thing had started. The thing being the fact that he now gave Wilson hand jobs every time the d**k was up for it—pun intended. It was both extremely weird and not weird at all. Wilson didn’t act any differently toward him, just because Brandon relieved his tension as part of his job. Brandon didn’t deceive himself into thinking that the arrangement was more than just a matter of convenience for Wilson. Now the guy didn’t have to go through the inconvenience of having to create time to get a release. He was more than sure that no other sane person would accept such.

Brandon was sure Wilson was still getting laid on the weekends, but the rest of the week, Brandon’s hand was being put to—very frequent—use. Not that he received an accolade for his 'extra, inhumane job.' His efforts were, in fact, belittled. Wilson remained indifferent towards his 'handy-call.'

Brandon couldn’t say the same about himself. He did feel a little differently now that he intimately knew the shape and the feel of his boss’s c**k. He didn’t hate Wilson any less, but he wasn’t as scared of him. There had simply come a point when he’d realized that Wilson was just a man, made of flesh and blood, who had a healthy huge s*x appetite when he wasn’t reducing his employees to tears. Others would be mortified for being put through such ugliness, but Brandon was happy he had a means of helping. The hand jobs had another unexpectedly good side effect: they made him totally focused at work.

If Brandon got told by anyone that he would last this long in EW despite his determination, he would have simply laughed and waved it off like a practical joke. Not only did he last, but he has also gotten used to the job and his boss to the extent that nothing freaked him out anymore despite the tons of ridiculous tasks Wilson gave him constantly. He did, in fact, look up to getting them done every day. Maybe he had grown on Wilson or. . . Brandon now knew what tasks to delegate to the secretaries and messengers, and what tasks he had to do himself. It was manageable. Tolerable. His job was surprisingly tolerable. He sometimes actually found himself enjoying the challenge.

“God, I don’t know how you do it,” Becky said one afternoon after Wilson had fired dozens of people at the annual meeting. “I’m frankly amazed you’re still here. No one has ever stayed this long as his PA.”

Brandon probably shouldn’t have felt pleased hearing that. But hey, it was totally something to be proud of. It required a high level of self-esteem and the patience of a god to put up with Wilson for so long.

“And the weird thing is, you aren’t even polite to him,” Becky said, shaking her head in bewilderment. “He actually lets you talk back.”

Brandon wrinkled his nose and laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. He only lets me talk back when it amuses him.”

From the look on her face, Becky disagreed. “Seriously, what’s your secret?” she said, leaning in. “Please tell me, so I can help out the poor guy who will be his PA after you’re gone next month!”

Right. He would be gone next month. The thought was… kind of weird.

“There’s no secret,” Brandon said belatedly when he realized that she was still waiting for his answer.

No secret at all, he thought as he walked away. I just annoy him all the time and touch his c**k sometimes. Lately, though, “sometimes” meant every day, or even twice a day. Wilson’s libido was ridiculous; it was a good thing Brandon was a fast learner and by now knew how to get him off fast. Though, Brandon was pretty sure his boss demanded his assistance so often just to annoy him into quitting. Too bad it didn’t work.

***

Wilson sat on his exaggerated throne-like leather seat, lost in thought. He was beating himself up about gradually. . .

“Sir, you have a meeting in the next ten minutes with the Talent Department.”

“I am too keyed off. Come do your job,” he started casually as if what they have been doing wasn't a mortal sin or worse.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, looking at Wilson incredulously. “You have a meeting in about ten minutes and yet, you want me to take care of that? Can't it wait until later?”

“If it could, I wouldn't have been asking.”

“But-”

“That’s precisely why it needs to happen now,” Wilson said in a tone of finality, his face expressionless as if he were speaking about the monthly report. “I’ll need a clear head for the meeting. It’s too important.”

Brandon scoffed. “What, you can’t think when you’re horny?”

Wilson gave him a look that made it clear how little he thought of Brandon’s intelligence if Brandon really expected that he was going to explain himself to a lowly PA.

“Fine,” Brandon grumbled, kneeling in front of him and unzipping his boss’s pants with total ease. “After this meeting, we need to revisit my job description and p*****t for the services I am rendering is far too much for what I am getting paid,” he joked. “Horny already. I did this yesterday evening,” Brandon mumbled.

“Then you can blame only yourself for your slacking effort.”

Glaring at him, Brandon pulled out Wilson’s already-hard c**k and squeezed it tightly, the way Wilson liked it. It creeped him out how familiar the weight and the feel of that c**k was by now. Big. Warm. Pulsing. Perfectly thick. A c**k. In his hand. Licking his lips, Brandon tore his gaze away from the thing and started stroking it.

Wilson was quiet, as usual, his heavy-lidded eyes on Brandon’s hand working his c**k. The bastard didn’t close his eyes anymore, but he’d recently taken to watching Brandon’s hand on his c**k, which was slightly unnerving.

Brandon looked away before their gazes could accidentally meet. He always felt weird when that happened. Somehow, it was weirder than giving the man a hand job.

Stroke, stroke, stroke.

His wrist started aching soon enough. Almost ten minutes had passed, but Wilson still hadn’t come. Brandon huffed in frustration. “They’ll be here any minute now. The door isn’t even locked.” Not that anyone would dare enter Wilson’s office without a knock, but still.

“Then make me come.”

Brandon scowled. “You think I’m not trying?”

“Try harder,” Wilson said, meeting his gaze, his black eyes glinting.

Brandon swallowed, his stomach in knots. “My wrist is tired,” he complained.

A strange expression appeared in those eyes. “Then use something else.”

It took Brandon a few seconds to register the meaning of his words. He flushed. “I’m not sucking your c**k,” he hissed. “I’m straight!”

Wilson shrugged and leaned back in his chair, his posture confident and so very male. “So am I,” he said. “So what?”

The nerve of him. Brandon could only open and close his mouth wordlessly, absolutely speechless.

There was a knock on the door. “The Talent Department is here, sir,” Becky’s muffled voice sounded through the door.

Brandon jerked his hand away from Wilson’s c**k, but the asshole grabbed it and kept it where it was. “Give me a minute,” Wilson called out before shifting his gaze back to Brandon and lowering his voice. “Well? Are you going to make an entire Department wait?”

Brandon could very well choose death over being in this situation at the moment. It was easy for Wilson because he was used to getting things done for him but not for Brandon. This was his first crazy experiment, and he wasn't appreciating it much. How can the same man ask another man with a beautiful body and d**k, although not up to top-notch standard, to do s**t like that? He was well-trained in making Brandon quit but, that joke would soon be on him because Brandon was staying until the very last day of his best month. He was that determined, and nothing could stop him.

Glaring at Wilson, Brandon muttered inaudible curses.

A twinkle of amusement appeared in Wilson’s eyes. “You can say no, obviously. I’m not forcing you. You can quit.”

“f**k you. I’m quitting after I win the bet in a month, and not a second sooner.” Before he could think twice, Brandon leaned in and fit his mouth over his boss’s erection.

It tasted… nowhere near as bad as Brandon had thought it would. Just of salty skin. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he had fingers in his mouth, and not another man’s c**k. Except he didn’t have fingers in his mouth. He had another man’s c**k in his mouth. A c**k. In his mouth. His boss’s c**k.

His face burning with both anger and passion, Brandon squeezed his eyes shut and moved his head, trying to take as much of the thing into his mouth as he could. He failed. There was just so much of it. How the hell did women do it? Women were golden for doing such a perfect job on hard work like Wilson's d**k with ease. When you watch them do it, you might think it was an easy job, not until you are the one doing it.

Brandon tried his possible best to mimic what his girlfriends had done to him.

“You’re terrible at this,” Wilson commented when Brandon pulled up for some much-needed air.

Glaring up at him, Brandon bit out, “I’m straight. Of course, I’m terrible at this. Yours is the first c**k I’m trying to suck.”

A drop of pre-come appeared on the c**k head. Brandon wrinkled his nose but simultaneously gave it a small, seductive lick.

Wilson groaned and came all over his face. Just like that.

“You—” Brandon spluttered, springing to his feet. Opening the desk drawer, he pulled wet wipes out of it and rubbed at his face frantically. “Jesus, this is gross.”

His gaze heavy-lidded from his orgasm, Wilson tucked his c**k into his pants and zipped up. And of course, he now looked picture-perfect and not at all like he’d just come all over his assistant’s face.

Scowling at him fiercely, Brandon finished cleaning his face and turned to the door.

“There’s still a drop on your nose,” came Wilson’s voice from behind him.

Brandon flushed and wiped his nose. “I hate you so much,” he said with feeling.

“Noted,” the bastard said, and was that amusement in his voice? “Now go tell them that they may come in.”

Brandon did just that.

“Are you okay, Brandon?” Brenda said sympathetically as Talent Department disappeared into the office.

Brandon flinched, looking at her warily. “What? What do you mean?”

She c****d her head to the side. “You look flushed. Was he hard on you?”

Brandon nearly cursed. But had to restrict himself from doing so. Brenda and all the other coworkers weren't golden. Just like in every other workplace, tell them your secret, and it will be up and filling as the headline within the company. They were selfish and didn't give two f***s about you. That is the standard of every organisation. So, the best thing to do is keep your mouth shut and fight through it alone. Moreover, she might get all judgmental and see him as a suck-up who couldn't simply say know because he was too proud to lose a stupid bet which his boss was now using to his advantage. Only a mad man like Wilson would need to get an orgasm regularly like his life depended, oh, point of correction, his life did depend on it. 'Clear mind,' Brandon's white ass. He could as much employ another PA who would deal with that when Brandon was gone. And there would be none after Brandon that would accept such hideous engagement.

Best for Brandon, suck him off a couple more times and keep us with his shenanigans. In a few weeks, he would be kissing EW Group goodbye for good.