The moment Drew McIntyre's promotional photo ended up on Vince McMahon's desk the entire WWE Universe was completely changed. The roster was changed, a few lives had even been changed - or ruined, rather. Whether the employees knew it or not, even the office was about to change. It was further turned upside down when the boss had left his wife for the Scotsman he deemed his "Chosen One." When the new and improved "wife" had taken Linda's place in a less than professional method the employees of Titan Towers had two things to be grateful for: McMahon's improved bad-attitude and some eye candy to gawk at.
Staring down into the parking lot from the office, those employees crowd the window, watching the Bentley Continental swerve into the parking lot and glide without effort into a space or two, McMahon stepping out in his pristine suit and escorting out from the passenger's side, Drew, his typical office-get up. Chivalry was quite rewarding. It would have been completely professional had a woman been wearing the outfit that McMahon insisted on; Drew's pencil skirt was shorter and tighter, and from what the people in the window guessed, a button from his tucked in teal blue dress-shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a small bit of flesh just to tease the office, and Vince too, with his tanned, cologne bathed skin until the very moment they went home for the night or flew out to a show.
The Scotsman was completely and undeniably unprofessional. The outfits Vince had dressed him up in: completely ludicrous. Spoiled completely rotten with the latest luxury car he only drove on occasion, just to grab a coffee, or a sandwich. A new pair of customized pumps - because Vince had been adamant about the sultry look of Louboutins the Divas had been wearing, but Drew had not been a fan of the red color, and insisted they be the perfect shade of royal blue to fit his tastes. The small plus to all of that had only been that Vince had taken his sweet time getting over his insistence of this obnoxious, oversized Christmas bow tied up in the brunette's ponytail; like he was constantly presenting a new puppy to everyone they had come in contact with. No one had seen McIntyre complain about the outfits, the bow, anything. He was obedient, disciplined and …perfect.
The office takes to their morning gossip routine about the young cross-dresser before he gets into the building; jealousy for Vince's position running rampant through every floor of the headquarters. No one had talked more openly about the outrage than John Laurinaitis - until Vince had arrived, and then everything went directly back to brown-nosing. "How was the date night?" or "You two certainly make a great couple!" A couple of the select choices for the morning routine that never once faltered or garnered a response from the man in charge.
The couple kiss as Drew is helped out of the car, playfully attacking each other, grabbing at one another and exchanging kisses like teenagers as they walk down the sidewalk to the entrance, Drew tosses his head back, hair flowing in one fluid motion that even looked visually soft and silky as it was to the touch; kisses and bite marks left on the exposed skin of his neck while McMahon kept his young lover pinned up against a tree for a while; smooth, muscled leg thrown around his waist, caressing from his thigh right down to his high-heel clad foot. Something for the people driving by to see. Drew's body taunts Vince both physically and mentally with such expertise as he goes through the doors first; hips swinging.
The employee's attribute the brunette's ability to make their boss feel young again to that improvement on the atrocious attitude he possessed.
Every gossiping member of the staff bit their tongues the minute they set eyes on McIntyre and his legs, mouths watering and thoughts running wild with distractive ideas: baseball, grandmothers and politics mostly. They've already suggested to one another that Vince's ability to keep up with McIntyre's drive was due to the same thoughts throughout the day. Drew was so damn good looking they couldn't help but react the way they had to him. They mumble their quiet greetings to McMahon - not that he was about to reply, care, or acknowledge anyone… especially not with Drew walking in front of him.
The brunette's jet black stiletto pumps step with hypnotic, loud clicks, legs sashaying and hips swinging with perfect rhythm. The fabric of his black couture skirt hugged every single mouth watering curve of his shapely ass. His hair swished in it's neat, perfect ponytail like a pendulum. Literal arm candy as he was wrapped around Vince's forearm. Drew McIntyre-McMahon was perfect. Too perfect. He was essentially the modern version of the Stepford Wife- albeit a man. He steps forward and opens the doors to The Chairman's office and escorts him inside, shutting the doors behind them with little force to hear the audible click.
Their privacy doesn't last long, however, with some unsure and clearly frightened knocking at the door just a few moments after Vince had sat at his desk and Drew up on it, having to jump off a second later to let the menial, nervous worker in. He stares angrily at him, his perfectly shaped low eyebrows arching into an intense glare as he was moved past and the anxiety-ridden individual was standing in front of Mr. McMahon.
Drew paces slowly around the office, his heels a metronome to the new-guy in front of the boss, he knows exactly what he's doing as he makes the rounds in the office, sensually looking for something that didn't exist, bending over for Vince to see as he searched in lower drawers; the attention off the bumbling kid in front of , Drew gives an exhausted sigh and rips the binder of whatever had been so important from the pitiful individual and drops it down on the desk; he couldn't waste valuable time listening to this guy bitch it out with his man. Drew gives the kid a look that just tells him that if he didn't leave now and close the door behind him that he would die within moments. He rolls his eyes and moves in a few soft clicks to Vince's side and switches off the heels to sit down on his knees instead.
Pure envy sweeps over the top floor. Everyone has an individual theory to Drew's gorgeous moans that leak out of closed doors. His hands gripped so tight to the desk that his knuckles turned white with Vince shoving the eager Superstar down on the table - evident from the loud bang: either his body colliding with it or maybe something falling from the desk. Scratches had long since been embedded into the furniture from his manicured nails. Even the sounds of pleasure erupting from McMahon were …acceptable. The day was going to be less loud and hard to deal with. Drew might have been a godsend.
Drew nuzzles into Vince's knees, nudging them apart with a few soft grazes. His eyes command him to unzip his pants and he reaches up to caress the bulge while his lover is reaching into the drawer; condoms and lube visible to anyone who would have opened the desk - he had nothing to hide. Drew moans softly. Vince rolls his chair closer to his lover who hadn't needed to scoot forward any further on his already banged up knees; the bruises had faded, but McMahon had a thing for their constant appearance on his body. He wraps his fingers around the back of his neck and pulls him forward slowly, Drew moves readily without so much as a hint of resistance crossing his thoughts. Vince reaches down, moving his fingers to caress Drew's jaw and pulls his head up, leaning down and kissing him deeply; inciting a longer moan from the younger man: the entire floor is just quiet enough to hear the purrs.
There wasn't a single person who had not wanted to be The Chairman in that situation. It was ecstasy even for them just being able to hear what they had ''tried'' to keep quiet….
Not that they had ever once succeeded at being quiet.
With expertise in being nonchalant, the staff loses themselves in looking busy when the door opens up an hour later. Drew's gorgeous body is glistening with perspiration, he was glowing and dewy. His hair is tousled and had gone from being straight and in a pony tail to a gorgeous mane of shoulder length hair. He makes his rounds over a few desks, proving that he was meant to be seen, and heard from, licking at his lips as he goes about dropping stacks of paperwork on desks around the office. He walks around casually in his loud heels, grimacing at the smiles he's offered by the staff, rolling his eyes and being generally disrespectful to those below his new status in the company. He loved being the higher-up.
From the office, McMahon heads straight for the elevator, Drew picking up the pace to meet him inside. The doors close just as the Scotsman steps in, moving toward his lover and turning around, backing up against his boss; that voluptuous ass in it's tight pencil skirt rubbing up against his lover's crotch; the fabric riding up on his legs; arching against McMahon.
At the limousine, Drew stares down the chauffer until the man slinks back to the drivers seat. He steps in between the black vehicle and his lover while he opens it with his arm behind him; keeping his eyes locked on Vince until he moves to open the door and get inside. In arms reach, Vince is grabbed by the tie and pulled into the luxury ride; stumbling and falling on top of Drew just as he had planned.
Drew begs Vince with his sapphire blue eyes. Bracing himself on the leather seats, McMahon finds his bearings in the moving vehicle and climbs on top of him. Having Drew ready for him at every moment made travel outside their home and office worth it; he pants heavily and gets his body under control, his fingers sliding between his legs and the fabric of the black skirt, moving it up slowly just to tease himself with the muscles and reddened flesh it just-about concealed. The heat was still radiating off of Drew from the blowjob and short round of office sex they had earlier in the day; still ready to go.
The ride to the arena just thirty or so miles away was nothing short of exhilarating. Even the imaginations of other drivers staring at the rocking limousine at the stop light led to the delightful surprise of a blue heel soaring up through the sun roof, and a shirtless Vince McMahon exiting, holding his pants up as he went to retrieve the blue pump from the hood of a car in the next lane. He moves with lust as he crawls back into the limousine. The driver simply grins as the moans from Drew resume at an uninhibited pitch; and with the open sun roof, everyone else had gotten an earful at each stop or moment of traffic.
They arrive at the arena faster than expected, McMahon stepping out first and adjusting his tie as he stood up and began walking. Drew fixes his hair as he wiggles his foot back into the shoe that had taken flight through the sun roof earlier and in a few quick strides he's back to being at Vince's side, wrapped around his arm and cooing into his ear about something as they walk. He's cleaned up and redressed to what was his "professional" attire and looked completely put together and untarnished aside from the hazy look in his half-lidded eyes.
The classy act Drew puts on is ended rather quickly, pulling The Chairman into a hard kiss; the man was just as irresistible to him as he was to McMahon. Vince begins working the buttoned up dress shirt down, undoing the collar and leaving McIntyre's chest exposed until he's swatted away from doing so; Drew had long since decided his body was purely for The Boss' viewing pleasure only. His time out of the ring only reflected that even more. He wraps his arms around Vince's neck, nuzzling into his shoulder and tilting his head to one side for the much older man to leave a trail of kisses to his collar bone; all the while grabbing a clipboard, manila folder and an envelope file, and signing off on an arrival behind Vince's back, leaving him without any interruptions. Drew was the perfect balance of pleasure, business and more pleasure. The Chairman is far from perplexed at the multi-tasking skill of his young lover; again and again had he been reassured he made the right decisions in marrying the Scotsman, and pulling him from the roster and filling the vacant CEO position with the beautiful brunette was too a great decision.
With all eyes on their activity, Vince hikes up Drew's black pencil skirt from where it had clung just above his faded-bruised knees, right up to his crotch; and again Drew battles him on the subject, making a compromise around folding it up mid-thigh and letting a little more skin be exposed.
Vince loves all the eyes that fall on himself and Drew; the way they stare at his lover with envy and desire: the way they lust for him as he walks in those expensive pumps with skilled prowess. The minute questions begin to pile up for McMahon, he waives them off and grabs Drew by the arm, linking the two together as Drew carried the items he had collected from a stagehand in his free arm, eyes scanning over them in a well organized fashion as they made their way to the make-shift office. The elder sits down at the desk already beginning to crowd with even more work that had to be looked over, scripts and notes for the night. Before he even begins to eye over the entirety of it all, Drew scoops it up from the desk along with a pen. He props himself down, laying on his stomach across the desk and gently kicking his legs as precise assessments quickly go through his mind. Vince grabs at the legs swaying in front of his eyes as if they had tried to hypnotize him, his fingers caressing the soft skin.
Slipping his legs away from him and hearing a small huff of annoyance, McIntyre jumps down from the desk, landing like a cat on his heels and giving Vince a little show on the way to the door. He opens it and scans the area slowly, demanding loudly at the first person he sees to go deliver the scripts with his appropriate changes. He closes the door and walks back to the desk where Vince is reclining in his seat, a smirk playing on his face as he beckons to the foxy young Scotsman with his finger; watching him slowly walk to the desk while unbuttoning and untucking his shirt from his skirt. He leans across it on all fours, being pulled into The Chairman's lap, a hand holding the back of his neck and tugging on his brunette hair while the other yanks his skirt up, revealing that Drew had simply chosen to wear the garment as a kilt like a true Scotsman. Vince grabs a fistful of his lover's bare, firm ass and moving between his legs as he massages him. The hands in his hair and breath on his neck was enough to get him excited.
The door swings open as Drew is in the middle of leaning further onto his husband, in the middle of crooning about his love for the older man, when the opened door startles Vince, who stands up abruptly and Drew falls from the desk, between the furniture and his lover's legs. He stands up and stares down the stunned Triple H who just seems to be looking on them with this shocked expression that only annoys the brunette even more. Drew shoves his skirt down, covering his exposed body and pulling his shirt across his chest as he storms to the door, using all the force in his smaller body to shove Hunter out of the room and slamming the door shut again, this time, making sure it was locked.
His face is reddened as he turns back to Vince, muttering an apology even though his husband had not looked the least bit embarrassed or concerned by the interruption. He looks back at the door with a deep sigh before he hears the tapping on the desk and the low cat call from his love. Drew recollects himself with a few deep breaths, his heart beating just a bit faster as he goes about fixing his hair before turning back to Vince; smiling a sultry smile that easily replaced his embarrassment at the situation and it only proved that much more that everything about him was simply perfect to his partner. He rips his shirt off, his muscular arms freed from the restricting clothing and he simply lets it fall on the ground, crossing the office in a few quick strides before attaching himself at the hip to Vince who quickly went to work on pulling his skirt down and bending him down over the desk.
Every moan Drew made was the sound of perfection.