Author's Note: Don't worry, they ams just doing a scene.
Contains: Sex acts (m/m), BDSM-type stuff, role-play dubcon, light choking.
Skwisgaar gasped at the sting of Charles's palm striking his cheek. Before he could react, Charles had spun him around and pinned him to the desk, one arm twisted behind his back. Skwisgaar struggled, but Charles's fingers were like steel against his wrist. For a moment, he heard nothing but Charles breathing hard, and then without warning his face was slammed against the surface of the desk as Charles yanked his other arm back. He felt the silky material of Charles's necktie on his skin, flowing and sensual for an instant before it was pulled tight, binding his wrists.
Now he was jerked upright by the back of the collar, now dragged down to his knees. Charles looked down at him, eyes giving away no emotion as he unzipped his pants and pulled down his red satin boxers, letting both slip to the floor. He seized a fistful of blonde hair, wrapping it around his hand until it stung at the roots, making Skwisgaar's eyes begin to water. Charles snapped Skwisgaar's head back and took his hard cock in his hand, tracing the head over Skwisgaar's lips.
Skwisgaar was breathing harder now, straining against his bonds only made the material cut into his wrists, making his dick even harder than it was already. He opened his mouth willingly, hungrily, but even so, he wasn't prepared for the force with which Charles slammed into him, forcing his jaw open, bruising his lips.
Charles thrust into his mouth, his expressing unwavering—cold, businesslike, no betrayal of enjoyment. Tears streamed down Skwisgaar's face as Charles held him in place and fucked his mouth.
When Charles shifted his stance slightly, moving one leg forward, Skwisgaar couldn't help but throw his hips forward, rubbing his painfully hard cock desperately against him with a pleading whimper. It earned him a look of contempt from Charles and a barely noticeable twitch at the corner of his mouth as he came with one last thrust.
Presently, his grip on Skwisgaar's hair loosened, and he released him to pull his pants back up.
Skwisgaar looked up at him, begging. "P—please," he whispered. Without reply, Charles pulled him to his feet and shoved him back onto the desk. He rubbed Skwisgaar through his jeans, hard, his other hand going to the blonde's throat, holding him against the desk, pressing down.
Skwisgaar cried out as he came in his pants, and lay trembling gasping for breath as Charles let him go. After a moment, he felt the light touch of the manager's hand, stroking his cheek, petting his hair, and he turned gratefully into the touch, letting Charles caress his face.
Charles sat on the edge of the desk and drew Skwisgaar to him, cradling him in his lap. "Shh," he murmured. "It's all right." Skwisgaar nodded, and Charles gently dabbed the tears from his face with the cuff of his shirtsleeve.
"Did you—ah—enjoy that?" he asked quietly, allowing himself a small smile.
"Ja," said Skwisgaar, still breathing heavily. "Thanks you."
Charles didn't answer, just held him closer and kissed him softly on the forehead.