Chapter 10: Supervisor Roger San Pedro

The office where Magnus Jordan worked never imagined that these men are gaining grounds for what they felt about themselves. The two have devoted their lives to the course of their actions. They created a world of their own and enjoyed the blessings from heaven. Their action speaks of what they felt about each other.

Jordan's knuckles turned white as he clung to the edge of the table he was bent over. His cheek pressed against the cool silver surface, his vacant stare fixed on the closed blinds that shielded the general public from all the goings-on in the department head's office.

His upper body rubbed on the smooth tabletop, the few buttons that he hadn't undone in the hurry pushed painfully into his flesh, every time one of the violent thrusts propelled him forward, he couldn't escape the concentrated force that had him in its grip could not oppose him anymore.

It didn't matter to him, none of it meant anything.

Not the knowledge that Roger San Pedro was using Magnus Jordan as an outlet for his insecurities, for the pressure on him, like Michael Carpio.

Not the pain that accompanied its furious intrusion when, like today, he took it in a desperate rage. When he tried to show himself that whatever he set out to do, he would not succeed nor did the never-ending craving for the drug that had long since become a part of him. Even if it was the only reason he had left to keep going; even if that reason expressed nothing other than a desire to end his fruitless efforts.

All of that meant nothing to him when he felt Roger over him, when the dark-haired man bent over him, letting him share in the heat of his body. When he leaned on him, panting and moaning, ramming his member into him, again and again, in rhythmic movements that gained strength once the tightness of his body had expanded, the first harbingers of inevitable ejaculation the dryness of his brutal entrance made forgotten.

He had known as soon as Roger entered the company; the moment he saw Roger's glowing gaze felt the vibrations the elder radiated when he pushed aside everything else, any doubt, any guilt, any regret that he knew the mere presence of his wife, who was in that very building, only a few floors below worked, tormented.

Magnus Jordan's senses responded to Roger's looks without him wanting to. He had tried to evade that power, to avoid the effect the other was having on him, but to no avail.

He'd owned his skin and hair for a long time, much longer than he'd admit to himself. He couldn't help but follow the unspoken call, again and again. As much as he tried to fight back, as much as he fought to stay away from these four walls, from any room where Roger intended to do what they did again and again, from which there was no escape and no escape, which the passion, the desire for the other, compelled him to do. Wild, uncontrolled, cruel in an attempt to quell, to contain, the long-pent-up lust, to convince themselves that it was the last time they didn't need it, that they could go on without giving in to each other.

And yet, at least Magnus Jordan knew that he couldn't, that his strength, which seemed almost inexhaustible to some, ended at this point, that he would not let go, would never be able to.

Even if Roger struggled, if everything in him cried out to give up the others, he didn't succeed. Every forced attempt only resulted in him trying to subdue Jordan even more cruelly, even more uncontrollably, as if to punish him for the fact that his longing for him was stronger than his desire to remain faithful to his wife. But Jordan knew that wanted it, submitted the moment Roger made his claim, the moment he felt Roger glare at him.

There had been a time when Magnus Jordan tried to stay away from him, tried to ignore the signals being sent across the cool room that kindled his heat just as Roger was already ablaze.

When he finally got into the secluded room that Roger had planned for him, which had been darkened as a precaution and had been cleared of cameras, there were no more unanswered questions, no doubts, no more contradictions. The lock snapped shut and Roger's hands were everywhere, unzipping his shirt, and tugging at the zipper of his jeans or suit pants, impatient, indignant, and greedy.

And Magnus Jordan loved it, loved the little evidence of the uncontrolled passion the other had for him, even though he had broken away from him countless times, broken and lost him over and over again, left alone with nothing but the memory and the imagination what could have been but never would be.

So he surrendered, did whatever Roger asked of him, demanded in his insatiable hunger, even if it hurt when it tore him inside because he knew it couldn't last. He felt Roger fill him up, pumping into him, panting, going deeper and deeper wanting to own him, to make him a part of himself.

Jordan's semi-erect penis responded to the stimulation of the rhythmic pressure against the smoothness of the table, jerking and vibrating, but still far from release. Finally, Roger stopped deep inside him, waited, groaned, and seems to come to his senses for a moment. He switched angles, almost pulling out, sliding his penis against Magnus Jordan's prostate.

Jordan gasped. He hadn't expected Roger to think of him, that after four-week abstinence he would be able to control his urge to respond to Jordan's needs as his own. And yet he did. The throbbing tip massaged rubbing the sensitive spot inside him, making Jordan feel like he was about to explode. He moaned as Roger worked his prostate, pounding it in the way only he could, spurred on by Jordan's reactions as he began to squirm and sigh, trying to move his hips toward the other, arching his back into the futile efforts to absorb more of Roger's power.

Roger held him in an iron grip, not allowing him any extra freedom, reveling in the feel of his power. Jordan heard it in the way his gasps changed, saw the bright grin, the triumphant look he'd seen countless times when they'd made face-to-face love.

"What do you want, Magnus Jordan... what do you want?" His voice was hoarse, the chuckling laughter strange and unnatural.

"You," Jordan moaned, "only you."

"And how do you want me?"

"Deep and hard and..." he gasped now too. "Please Roger, please... give me everything."

"You really want it?"

Roger bent down to him, and licked his cock, letting his hot, wet tongue penetrate the ear canal, imitating the movement of his member with short, sharp thrusts.

"Yes ahhhhh."

Magnus Jordan bucked as one of the taller one's hands slid down, grabbing his penis at the base, cupping it, and rhythmically squeezing wherever it managed to find access to the soft skin.

"Oh God, please Roger..."

Roger buried his face in Jordan's neck, kissing hotly from side to side. His hand left Jordan's throbbing cock, ignoring the whimper that Jordan couldn't stop from leaving his lips at the loss, wandering around the slender body until he reached the base of his penis and sunk into Jordan. He gripped his penis and gyrated it, rotating it, stretching and widening the walls of Magnus Jordan's tight canal, multiplying the stimulation.

Jordan groaned again. "Oh god, Roger... how...?"

Roger's other hand was now between Jordan's shoulder blades, holding the clerk immobile, tight in his grip as he worked on him. Short, strong thrusts alternated with lascivious rotational movements, satisfied, breathless laughter with excited breathing.

"How can you... how can you..."

Magnus Jordan fell silent. Another moan escaped his lips. "Oh god, Roger..."

Roger pumped faster, his mouth hanging open, the sharp intake of breath accompanying the violence of his thrusts. “You want it, you want more, Jordan? You want to know why I haven't come yet?"

He leaned forward again, whispering softly. "Look at my wife contented face and you'll know why." Magnus Jordan whimpered, and he didn't know if it was the force of the relentless thrusts that made the sound, or the agony that cut his heart at the thought of Roger cheating on all three of them, Roger's wife, his lover, and him.

And yet he didn't want to miss it, couldn't finish it, couldn't say the words that would drive him away, couldn't finish what officially hadn't started at all. The thought that the others went about their work just one floor below them, would never dare to disturb the supposedly important meeting between them, that somewhere below them his wife didn't suspect anything, weighed worse than the feelings of guilt with which he was used to dealing with.

But once again the pain gave way to pleasure Roger knew which buttons to press, which keys to press to drive him to ecstasy. He'd been leaning more into him, burying his entire length inside him to the max, and Jordan bit his lip to stifle a scream as he felt it deep and hard inside him, trembling, swelling, screaming for fulfillment.

Both of Roger's hands now clasped his arms, completely paralyzing him. And deep inside Magnus Jordan, Roger San Pedro's hot cock swelled bigger and more powerful than it had ever been before. Slowly, unbearably slowly, the dark-haired man drew his aching member out again, only to thrust it into the receiving flesh again.

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