Archive of Our Own ^beta

Your job sucks.

Dull work, no upwards mobility, miserable pay, long hours, and a downright unethical contract. Paid time off is entirely at your boss’s discretion, which ultimately means never. But that is neither interesting nor unique; it’s hard to find anyone here whose appraisal of their job is better than “tolerable,” and even that is pretty hard to come by. That’s where your situation actually manages to be somewhat unusual; every now and again, you find your station to be quite enjoyable.

That isn’t for any reason related to your job description, of course. The means by which you manage to eke out satisfaction in your dismal career are, to put it gently, extracurricular. But it’s not like you’d ever get in trouble for it. It was his idea, after all.

You were Mr. Tenna’s secretary, a position you suspect had been granted to you not because of any kind of special aptitude for the work, but simply because he enjoyed getting to look at you any time he was coming or going from his office. The job itself was a boring, bureaucratic slog, mired in paperwork and phone calls and hopelessly outdated organization systems.

You were hanging around the water cooler with one of the security guards one day, and after they patiently listened to you bitch about your job and your boss for who knows how long, they asked, “Why do you put up with it? Why don’t you just… you know, quit? Or transfer?”

You sipped your water and shrugged. “The benefits are hard to pass up.”

You refused to tell a soul about what these “benefits” were, because you were well-aware of the whispers of favoritism and special treatment that circulated around the administrative side of the studio. And, to be frank… they were true. You did get special treatment, perhaps just not in the form of preferable working conditions like most had assumed. And he does, in fact, treat you with more kindness and patience than he affords most of his employees, even if that is still ultimately pretty meager and superficial.

Of course, there was a more pressing reason why you couldn’t quit; your contract simply wouldn’t allow for it. When he had taken over this place, it was a choice between servitude or exile, and you weren’t eager to pack up and move. And so you took the job, and eventually you accepted those additional responsibilities that made your continued employment seem like a more reasonable prospect.

Being his favorite wasn’t always the easiest to deal with; he was prone to vicious mood swings, and tended to make them into everyone else’s problem. He had this weird, overwrought manner of speech that could really grate on your nerves when your patience was running thin. His ability to read a room was so abysmal that you wouldn’t be surprised if he tried testing out a stand-up comedy routine at a funeral. And no matter how hard he tries to conceal it, it’s obvious that he’s horrifically self-conscious; he regularly tries to act like he’s much younger than he actually is, and worse, he seems to think that people actually fall for it.

Your personal least-favorite character flaw of his was the way he would tend to get all in his feelings after one of your encounters. There’s no buzzkill quite like when you’re coming down from the high of what was supposedly “no-strings-attached” sex and he starts whimpering about being scared that you’ll find someone to replace him, or guilt-tripping you into saying that you love him.

At the very least, you were quite confident that there was at least one area where he was completely irreplaceable; there’s no way you could find a cock like that anywhere else.

This evening, you’re enduring another one of his “game-changing” decisions; in an effort to increase employee satisfaction while doing little to no work to actually make the working conditions any more tolerable, he had introduced an employee feedback box. And, of course, you were the one who actually had to go through the endless complaints, compiling lists of commonly-mentioned issues that would almost certainly be ignored.

You’d gone through hundreds of those papers by the time he strolled up to your desk, smug and jaunty as ever. He was nearly twice your height, and he towered over your desk, leaning down and pressing his hand on its surface to get your attention. “Heee-lloooo, beautiful! How’s my leading lady doing on this lovely evening?” he asks a little too loudly.

“Busy,” you murmur, shuffling through the endless pile of papers. “Very busy.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” he chides, standing up straight and crossing his arms. “Aren’t you even a little happy to see me?”

“Very little,” you mutter under your breath. “Listen, Mr. Tenna, you gave me a task, and I’m trying to complete it. The least you could do is not expect me to be ecstatic about having to read fifty complaints in a row about the water cooler’s homicidal tendencies.”

“Hmph!” he grunts, his expression going sour. “Plenty of these guys would be thrilled to be in your position, I’ll have you know!”

“I’m sure they would,” you grumble.

He huffs indignantly. “Well, I don’t have time for you, either! Do you have any idea how much work it takes to operate hundreds of channels!?”

“You receive precisely fifty-three channels, Mr. Tenna,” you remind him.

“That’s a lot!” he snaps. “Whatever. Whatever! I’ll be in my office.” He storms away from you, slamming the door behind him.

You chuckle to yourself quietly, shake your head, and start a stopwatch.

You make your way through two more complaint forms before his voice crackles through the intercom on your desk. “…[Y/N]?” he asks softly.

You hit the stopwatch. Precisely three minutes and forty-two seconds. Still a far cry from his personal record of thirty five seconds. “Yes, Mr. Tenna?” you reply.

“I’m sorry I said I didn’t have time for you. I didn’t mean it,” he says sheepishly.

You huff a laugh. “It’s fine. I brought it on myself for being snippy.”

“So… you forgive me?”

“Yeah,” you affirm.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You return your attention to the paperwork.

He pauses. “…So?” he asks, providing no further context.

“So what?” you respond.

“So… get in here.”

You set the papers down, sighing exasperatedly. “Really? Now?”

“Please?” he begs quietly.

“…Okay. Okay, give me a second.”

You dash over to the employee restroom, make a couple last-minute preparations, try to redirect your focus away from the never-ending pile of complaint forms, and then head over to his office.

He grins at you broadly as you enter the room. “Lock the door behind you, would you?”

You nod, turning the lever on the knob with a loud click.

“Have a seat,” he says, his smile wide and mischievous.

You look around. There isn’t a single seat in the room except the one he’s currently using. “Um…” You blink. “You, uh… you removed all the chairs.”

“Clearly I didn’t,” he responds, leaning back.

You roll your eyes with a quiet chuckle as you walk over to where he’s sitting and turn to face away from him. “Help me up,” you request.

“Gladly,” he says in a low, husky tone, lifting you up and pressing you firmly into his lap. You feel your body tingling slightly as he does so, partially from the static electricity and partially because it’s thrilling how easily he can handle you.

As you settle yourself in on his lap, his large hands move to take hold of your shoulders. He presses his thumbs into the muscles above your shoulder blade and starts to rub. Your eyebrows raise. “What’s this?” you question.

“You just looked so tense out there. I want to help you loosen up.” He presses his screen against the top of your head, presumably to kiss you, although it’s a little hard to tell.

You let out an exhale as he squeezes your shoulders firmly. “Well… Damn. I… I do appreciate that,” you say sincerely, feeling yourself start to melt into his touch. He’s never done this before, and he’s extremely good at it. His skill at detecting your physical limits despite your substantial difference in size and strength was one of his most redeeming traits, and it was being put to extremely effective use in this moment. You let out a soft moan as he works across a particularly tense area.

He pushes his hips up slightly in response to your pleasured noise. “Mmmh… It’s good, isn’t it?” he asks.

“A-aah— y-yes, that’s… that’s really good,” you gasp, and suddenly you start to feel his erection pushing against where you’re sitting. There’s really nothing that gets him going like a bit of praise.

You can hear him starting to breathe heavily as he applies just a bit more pressure to his massage. “Well… you ought to know how this works by now. You want more… you keep telling me just how much you like it.”

“Mnnh… It… it feels incredible.” You let out a high pitched gasp as his thumb digs into a particularly sensitive spot on your back. “A-aaah! Nnh-aah, that’s… mmh, this is exactly what I needed.” You start to roll your hips slightly against the growing mass beneath you, starting to become as aroused as you are relaxed.

He lets out a frustrated growl as he firmly grabs your waist, pushing you even harder against him. “Fuck, that’s… Oh, you are making it so difficult to focus. How do you expect me to keep my attention on the task at hand when you’re making all those cute little noises?”

You laugh quietly, grinding yourself against his lap in slow, firm circles. “Well, that’s the thing, Mr. Tenna… I kind of don’t.”

“Have it your way, then.” He grabs onto your hips and matches your movements, the imposing mass of his erection desperately pressing between your legs. He leans down and speaks softly into your ear. “So, gorgeous… what’ll it be? Pay-per-view? Or perhaps one of those artsy late-night softcore offerings? Or even… scrambled?”

You shudder. “Haah, um, that last one might be too freaky, even for me.” You peek over your shoulder at him. “But other than that, I’ll let you pick.”

“Pay-per-view it is,” he says, lifting you up and pressing the front of your body against his desk. You gasp as you feel his girth pressing against you, grinding between your ass in slow, methodical pulses. “Now, isn’t this better than some boring old paperwork?”

“Mnnh, y-yes… yes, definitely,” you reply, arching your back to press against him.

“I make quite the welcome distraction, don’t I?” he asks, fishing for more praise.

“Y-yes… yes, Mr. Tenna, there’s nothing I’d rather do more.”

His screen hazes over with a pink static at your words, and he gives you a final slow, lingering pulse before he flips you over and starts to tug off your clothes. He smiles broadly as he takes in your naked body, tugging off his belt, his tight pants doing little to conceal the mass beneath it. Proportionally to the rest of his body, his dick is about average sized. It’s just that the rest of his body is also huge.

He tugs his pants down, revealing his alabaster-white, nearly-foot-long cock. Your only employment benefit that actually means anything. He grinds it between your legs again, gasping quietly as your wetness slicks his skin. “A-aah… Ah, y-you… you always look so good like this,” he breathes, beads of sweat starting to display on his screen. “Ngh… I’d love to take you just like this…” He pulls back with a smirk. “But what’s the rush? It’s still only the pre-show.”

He takes your hand, pulling you up and off of the desk. He leans against it as you move in front of him. “Sometimes I really wish I could tell you to get on your knees.” He runs a hand through your hair before pulling your face up in front of the head of his cock. “But really, who am I to complain.”

It was, without a doubt, a task better suited to bending at the hips. The only way you could feasibly take him on your knees if he was on his knees, as well. You press your tongue against the tip, making him let out a soft, shaky moan. You tease him with a tongue for a while longer before he can’t take it anymore, and he presses your head down to encourage you to take him in your mouth.

You oblige, opening your mouth widely as his girth slips inside. He moans loudly, holding onto your head but not controlling your movements. He was so large that you could only fit one-fourth of his mass inside your mouth comfortably, and maybe one-third if you really pushed yourself. To make up the remainder, you used your hands.

He gently pulses in and out of your mouth with a low groan, looking down to watch you take him. He lets out a low chuckle. “F-fuck, fuck, you always feel so good, too,” he says, increasing the speed of his thrusting just slightly. You strain yourself, taking him down as far as he could fit, making him let out a sharp gasp as his hands move to balance himself on the desk.

“Aa-aah… aah, damn,” he pants. “You know… I wish I could return the favor. But, well… you know how it is.”

You shake your head as much as you’re capable of and continue sucking him, drawing him in and out of your mouth, the static electricity generated by his touch intensifying slightly. Finally, he pulls you off of him and hoists you back up onto the desk.

“Oh, the anticipation is just killing me… I can’t wait anymore,” he says, opening up his drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube that he had kept there ever since the encounters you had attempted without it had proven to be… less than successful. “If you’d do the honors.” He grins and hands it to you.

You squeeze out a generous portion of it onto your hand and rub it onto his shaft. He groans ecstatically as your hands glide along it; his girth is such that you have to use both hands to ensure it’s sufficiently slick, and slickness is definitely not something you want to skimp on.

As you finish applying, he pushes your shoulder down, pinning your back against the desk as he lines up his cock with his other hand. “Are you ready?” he asks softly.

You whimper, nodding.

“Then let’s waste no time,” he snarls, thrusting his hips forward. Even with the lube, the entrance of your pussy doesn’t quite give. “Just relax,” he insists.

You try to slow your rate of breathing. “I— I am,” you gasp.

“Let’s try that one more time…” His second attempt is successful. You cry out as the head pushes inside, the sensation overwhelming and painful. But you’ve done this enough times to know that the pain is just a momentary hurdle to something much greater.

He looks down at you intently, a projected bead of sweat dripping down his display. “Mmmhh… Y-yes, that’s right… Take it,” he encourages as he slowly slides himself deeper in.

You grasp onto his arm, gritting your teeth, the pain becoming more and more intense until he’s finally sheathed all the way inside you, and at that moment, it’s like a switch is flipped. You let out a loud cry as the sensation within you is instantly converted to pure pleasure.

“O-oh, yes,” he breathes, leaning over you. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Nnggh… y-yes, yes! O-oh my god, it’s… ngh, I… I could never get enough of this,” you gasp.

“And I never want to stop giving it to you.” He starts to thrust himself slowly in and out, giving you time to acclimate. He tilts his head, quirking a grin. “Just how good does it feel, exactly?”

“Ngh— so— so, mmmnh— y-yes, it, it feels, gasp, a-aaaah, aaa-aaah…!” you moan incoherently.

“Hahahaha, wow. Correct answer.” He grabs onto your hips hard as he deeps his slow, deliberate, and still somewhat gentle pace. “I’ve barely done anything at all and you’re already acting like you’re about to lose it.”

“I— I am, I am, p-please… please don’t stop.”

“I won’t… as long as you keep asking for it.” He picks up his pace just slightly.

You continue trying to beg for it, but are rendered mostly incomprehensible by the intensity of the pleasure. His screen takes on that staticky pink tinge again as he watches you draw closer and closer to the brink, his smile turning into gritted teeth as his breaths become faster and heavier. Not long after, you’re pushed into an intense climax, letting out a loud, wailing moan as you grip the edge of the desk.

He makes a frenzied whine as your already-tight pussy gets even tighter around him, and as he finishes working you through your orgasm, he picks you up and takes you down to the floor with him, lying beneath you. “I think it’s your turn,” he says, his hand running along the contour of your body.

Once you catch your breath, you begin to pulse your hips. He groans softly, gripping your hips tightly. Suddenly, that static blush intensifies and he looks bashfully off to the side. “U-um… [Y/N]?” he gently asks.

“Yeah?” you answer breathily.

“Could you… um…” His screen gets pinker. “Could you do that thing I like?”

You smile, laughing quietly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He backs up until his upper back is pressed against a wall, giving you easier access to his upper half. You gently reach your hand out to the dial on the left side of his screen. “G-gentle,” he gasps, “be gentle.”

“I know,” you reassure as your hand makes contact.

He grits his teeth in anticipation, and as you very slowly start to turn the dial, he lets out a high-pitched, trembling whine. “A-aa-a-aaaah… A-aaa-aaaah…!” he cries, every part of his body getting immediately more sensitive as this erogenous zone is stimulated. “J-just like that, nggh… just like that!”

It’s his turn to be rendered totally incoherent as you start to pulse your hips and slowly turn the dial at the same time, taking breaks every now and again to prevent him from getting overstimulated. His antennas fall back as his entire body surges with pleasure.

You smirk slightly as your hand withdraws from the dial. “You like that?”

“Y-ye—aaaAAAAAaaaaa, y-YYEEEESSSSS,” he cries out as you interrupt him by turning it again. He can only endure a few seconds more of this before his antennas shoot up and he pushes your hand away. “W-wait, wait, stop, cut, cut, cut!” he gasps.

“You good?” you ask.

He takes slow, shaky deep breaths, attempting to re-center himself. He looks up at you again, grinning slightly. “You almost got me. But the show’s not over yet.” He pulls you up off of him, manhandling you in a pride-driven display of his superior strength, and puts you on your knees. “Hmmm…” He taps the side of his head. “Close, but we haven’t quite found the money shot.” He suddenly hoists you up so you’re lined up with him at his own kneeling height, one hand cradling your hips and the other supporting your chest. “Oh, there we go,” he breathes.

You let out a quiet gasp at this extremely vulnerable position, which then turns into a loud cry as he pushes inside you again.

“And now for our grand finale.” He slowly pushes you down to the base, and you let out a choked whine. “Are you ready?”

“Y-yes.”

He starts to pump into you slowly. “Are you sure!? Do you really want it?”

“Yes, yes, please! Please, I— aa-aaaaaAAAAAAAH!” You scream out as he thrusts his hips against you and your body against him, your dangling, trembling legs trying to anchor onto his own. The sensation is mind-numbingly intense; every one of your nerves crackles with pleasure to a degree that’s nearly overwhelming.

“Mmnnnhh… Y-yes, yes, yes,” he breathes as he starts to fuck you harder. “Mmmn, I can tell you love it so much.”

“Aaah— aaaaAAaaahhhh! Y-yes!”

“Come on. Say it. Say it, tell me how much you love it!”

You struggle to speak through the onslaught of pleasure, but you make a noble attempt. “Mhhh… Mr. Tenna, I— gasp, I… I love your cock, I love getting fucked by you! I love it so much!”

“A-aaah, yes, YES, more!” he demands, wielding your body effortlessly as he slams you against himself over and over.

You continue to praise him, and he insists that you keep going, until the only sounds you’re capable of making are wailing moans and gasps. You manage to get out a final sentence: “I— I’m so close!” you cry before dissolving into incoherence.

“Y-yes, yes, [Y/N], I’m… I’m…” He grits his teeth, trying to delay his own release just long enough for you to achieve yours.

You can’t help but thrash in his arms as an overwhelmingly intense climax overtakes you, your whole body trembling as you cry out. As his goal is accomplished, he allows himself to follow; your wails are interrupted by a quiet, jittery cry, your whole body going rigid as he discharges static electricity into you. As the initial discomfort fades, you’re left with a fuzzy, thrumming pleasure that makes your body go limp.

He falls to the ground, embracing you tightly as his screen presses staticky kisses onto the top of your head. You lay there with him a while longer, coming back to your senses, before ultimately the crushing burden of your work demands your attention. You sit up, strands of your hair floating around your head.

“Haaah… Well… Mr. Tenna, if that will be all, I think I ought to get back to work.”

“Oh— oh no you don’t!” he proclaims, sitting up and wagging his finger at you.

You look a bit confused. “And… why is that?”

“Because…” He crosses his arms with a self-satisfied smirk. “I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”

Your eyebrows raise. This was nearly unheard of. You shake your head, slightly baffled. “Wh-what!? I can actually…” You look at him skeptically. “Okay… what’s the catch?”

He waves his hands. “Oh, no, no no! No catch! No catch at all.” He pauses for a moment, his grin growing wider. “It’s just that you’ll have to let me take you to dinner tonight.”

You sigh exasperatedly, although it’s tinged with fondness. After a moment, you answer him: “Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll do it.”