Marcus adjusted his tie, posture ramrod straight as the boardroom lights cast down over his graying temples and sharp jaw. He was the image of composure, except for the twitch at the corner of his mouth… and the hand gripping the armrest.
"…Q3 revenue is up by twelve percent," he said, voice low and steady, despite the distraction currently kneeling beneath the table.
Elias.
His godson.
The same boy he helped raise, now twenty and far from innocent. The same one who had whispered in his ear this morning, "Bet you can't handle me while doing your little CEO thing."
He didn't knock. He didn't ask. He just slipped under the desk before the meeting began, smirking as he crawled between Marcus's legs with wicked intent.
Marcus cleared his throat sharply.
A tongue slid along his inner thigh.
He shifted slightly in his chair, enough to hide the way his knees nearly buckled from just a breath.
No one could see. But he could feel it.
And Elias? He was making sure Marcus felt everything.
Marcus's jaw clenched. His voice didn't crack, didn't stammer, but his fingers dug into the armrests with such force the leather creaked beneath them.
Underneath the table, Elias was feasting.
His mouth warm, tongue skillful, lips wrapping around Marcus like he'd been practicing in secret for years. The boy wasn't nervous. He was possessive.
Marcus gave a nod to the finance head, pretending to study the graphs on the screen while Elias gripped his thighs, pulling him deeper into his mouth. Every subtle bob, every slurp hidden by the polished oak of the boardroom table, every filthy sound meant only for Marcus.
He wanted to groan. He wanted to pull Elias up by the hair and slam him against the table, claim him in front of everyone watching, just to show whose goddamn mouth that was.
But he couldn't.
So he bit down on the inside of his cheek until it bled, while Elias moaned low against him, vibrating pleasure through his veins.
Marcus swallowed hard. "Please continue," he said to the room, voice hoarse.
But his eyes were locked on the projection screen, seeing nothing.
Only feeling.
Elias didn't stop until Marcus's hand twitched, just once, beneath the table.
A signal.
And with a soft pop, the boy pulled back, licking his lips with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he whispered against Marcus's thigh,
"Didn't think you'd last this long, old man."
The moment the boardroom cleared, Marcus didn't speak.
He moved.
A sharp tug at Elias's collar dragged him into the private lounge attached to the executive floor. The door slammed shut behind them with a cold thud that echoed.
"You think that was funny?" Marcus's voice was low, calm. Dangerous.
Elias's smirk was sinful. "I think you liked it."
Marcus loosened his tie. Slowly. Deliberately. "I was restrained. You won't see that version of me again."
Elias backed up until the edge of the desk hit the back of his thighs. "Oh?" he taunted, "So what are you gonna do now, discipline me, Godfather?"
Marcus's palm slammed beside his head.
"No," he whispered, eyes dark. "I'm going to break you."
And he did.
Marcus yanked Elias around and bent him over the desk, pushing his chest flat against the cold wood. "You want to play games under the table?" he growled against his ear. "Then you take the consequences."
SWAT.
His hand cracked across Elias's ass, leaving a sting that pulled a gasp out of him. Another. And another.
Each one punctuated by Marcus's voice:
"For."
"That."
"Stunt."
Elias whimpered, panting, clutching the edge of the desk. "I-I wanted to make you lose it."
"You succeeded." Marcus leaned down, teeth grazing the shell of his ear. "And now you'll feel everything you asked for."
Buttons popped. Belts snapped.
And Marcus didn't just punish, he reclaimed.
Elias slumped over the polished wood, breath shaky, legs trembling. Marcus hadn't said a word since the last strike, had just let silence linger, let Elias feel everything.
But Elias, ever the cocky brat, chuckled softly.
"You still wearing that suit?" he said, voice raspy. "C'mon, Godfather. I wanna see what wrecked me."
Marcus didn't move.
Elias turned his head slightly. "What? Gonna make me beg for it?"
Marcus's voice, finally, cold and dark.
"No."
Then Elias felt it.
Arms under his body. A sharp lift. And suddenly, the world spun, the desk gone. He was being carried. Cradled.
"Wha-Marcus?!"
"Too bold for your own good," Marcus muttered. "And you don't get to decide when this ends."
He kicked open the private suite door in the corner of his office. Yes, the one no employee dared to mention existed. The one only he used.
He dropped Elias on the plush mattress.
Elias barely caught his breath before Marcus was on him again, this time slower. Rougher. More intentional.
"You thought I'd leave you with just a spanking?" he whispered as he pinned Elias's wrists. "That was a warning. This…" He leaned in, lips brushing his jaw, "This is the real punishment."
"Marcus…" Elias moaned, trying to wriggle free, only to find the man hadn't even removed his tie, he'd just unfastened it enough to tie both of Elias's wrists to the headboard.
"You wanted to play, Elias?" Marcus's eyes burned. "Now you'll feel what it means to lose."
Marcus's grip tightened around Elias's wrist, eyes narrowing. "You think I won't do something just because you're my godson?"
Elias smirked, leaning in just close enough to let his breath graze Marcus's skin.
"I know you will," he whispered, lips brushing his ear, "because I've done worse and you still haven't stopped me."