Free The Administration Series by Manna Francis

ear. "Pick a word," he murmured.
    Warrick blanked completely for a moment, and then said, "Plastic duck."
    Toreth laughed, and he felt it all down the length of his body. "All right. 'Plastic duck' it is."
    Toreth moved back, walking round to stand in front of Warrick.
    "Close your eyes."
    "Why?"
    Too fast for Warrick to react, Toreth slapped him across the face, rocking his head back and bringing a heat to his cheek that set off an echoing flash of warmth in his stomach.
    "Close your eyes," Toreth repeated calmly.
    Warrick obeyed. The handprint still glowed on his skin, each finger distinct. He felt himself hardening, the tell-tale response out of his control.
    "You liked that?" Toreth started to move round him again, touching, rough and gentle, pain and pleasure, oddly impersonal and intensely arousing. "What else do you like, I wonder? Do you want me to fuck you? Not that I care whether you want it — I'm going to do it anyway. You were right to think twice about coming up here with me. Still think you made the right choice?"
    Every so often, the touching stopped, and Warrick heard him undressing. However, it never stopped for long, and the words not at all. By the time Toreth stepped away, Warrick had lost all sense of place or time. There was only himself, in the dark, breathing fast and shallow as his heart raced to keep up.
    "Give me your hands."
    Instant obedience this time, and Toreth took Warrick's wrists in his hands, squeezing tightly to complete the circle.
    "You can open your eyes."
    When he did so, the first things he saw were his own hands, trapped by Toreth's, and he found he couldn't look away. The single point of contact between them captured his whole attention — everything else seemed distant and insubstantial. His pulse tripped against Toreth's fingers, blood humming with alcohol and desire and . . . something else? Had Toreth slipped something into his drink after all? Did it matter, now?
    Then Toreth spoke and the thought was lost. "No handcuffs, I'm afraid," he said. "If you'd let me know what you liked, I'd have brought something from work."
    Warrick felt a fleeting rush of the real apprehension he'd experienced earlier in the evening. Then Toreth smiled. "But I don't need chains, anyway. Not for you." With that, Toreth pulled him forwards and wrestled him down onto the bed.
    Warrick fought back, for real at first because of the surprise. However, Toreth had professional experience of restraining the unwilling, so Warrick's resistance posed him no problem at all.
    They finished up with Warrick pinned face-up underneath, struggles limited to fruitless writhing which felt so good it quickly began to take the edge off the fantasy of force.
    "I don't need chains," Toreth repeated, "because you'll do what you're told anyway, won't you?"
    Warrick nodded, too breathless to speak.
    "Good." Then Toreth kissed him full on the mouth, not kindly, and in fact hard enough to bruise. Real bruises, Warrick thought distractedly. Something people would see at SimTech tomorrow. The idea of tomorrow, of sitting in his office with this as a memory to relive, was almost as exciting as the hard body on top of him.
    Toreth knelt up, straddling Warrick's thighs. "Turn over, then keep still." He lifted his hand again when Warrick hesitated. "Do it."
    The threat was thrill enough and Warrick turned obediently, shivering at the rubbing of skin against skin where their thighs touched.
    Toreth planted his knee firmly in the small of Warrick's back. It pressed him down into the bed as Toreth leaned over, knocking things over on the bedside table and swearing under his breath. Warrick felt a fleeting hint of annoyance at the brief interruption. In the sim, he could think anything he wanted directly to hand. In fact, in the sim, they wouldn't need lubricant at all. This was why the real world had lost —
    The shock of the cold gel made him squirm away, even though he didn't want to. Toreth lay down again, half on him and half on