People say that you shouldn't mix work and pleasure. But no one explains to you what to do when your submissive has an important presentation the next day and can barely speak because you've fucked his throat until he's hoarse. I guess those details don't fit into human resources manuals.

My first mistake was coming to work. I should have taken the day off, or better yet, kidnapped Alex and kept him in my bed until the marks on his neck were less... obvious, binge-watching some terrible series and ordering takeout. But of course, the idiot had to present the results of the last sprint, and I had to be there. As the director and as the asshole who had left his neck looking like a fucking leopard.

My second mistake was running into my useless superior.

“M, can we talk for a moment?” Carmen’s voice sounded conciliatory, which only made her more annoying. “About yesterday…”

I took a deep breath before turning around. Two years. I just had to endure two fucking years until she retired and I could take her position. Two years smiling and nodding while she lectured me as if I were a kid.

“It wasn’t very professional to leave the celebration like that,” she continued. “Second place is an important achievement. It means a government contract, guaranteed funding…”

“I know,” I interrupted, keeping my tone neutral while internally counting to ten. As if I didn’t know better than anyone what that contract meant. As if I hadn’t planned every fucking detail of the project.

“Then you’ll understand that your reaction was… excessive. You can’t just take an employee like that, grabbing him by the collar…”

My mind immediately went to how I had grabbed Alex in much less professional ways last night. How he had trembled under my hands, how he had moaned my name…

“… and competitiveness is fine, but…”

“It won’t happen again,” I lied with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. In my mind, I was already planning how to reorganize the department when she left. Two years. Just two years.

------------------------

I correct my mental note. I guess those details don’t fit into human resources manuals, or into the condescending talks from superiors who know shit about project management.

“Good morning, sir,” murmured Alex as he crossed paths with me in the hallway. His voice was barely a hoarse whisper, but the little smile he gave me made all the anger from the useless sermon evaporate.

Laura, who was passing by, stopped dead. “Are you okay, Alex? You sound terrible.”

“Yeah, it’s just… a cold,” he replied, nervously tugging at the collar of his shirt. A shirt that, by the way, didn’t hide half of what it should. I need to buy him a shirt to make up for yesterday's... I’ll make it a turtleneck.

“You should take something,” Laura suggested. “You have th...