(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

things inevitably end here. the merger’s fallen through based on pointless legal detail; of course, what that really means is that the force washington wanted to consume has wriggled away from him. his frustration is hot and furious in his stomach, rage wailing across the bars in his chest. he wants to crush this little creature that offers senseless apologies like overripe fruit. wants this puny human’s innards to splatter like a raw egg clenched in his fist. he doesn’t; he thanks the man for the opportunity and wishes him well. the man, rat-vermin that he is, mutters and bolts. washington steams in his office.

“this is your fault,” he says to alex, who washington can see is flicking through grindr. his rage triples, throws itself against walls. alex looks over his shoulder and smirks.

“yeah, it’s my fault,” he answers, and puts his phone in his pocket. his eyes gleam. “maybe i deserve to be punished.”

they go to washington’s condo - his secret address, not his known address - and washington takes alex’s clothes off. alex is bruised, as he always is, marked and welted and comes pre-used.

“maybe you should fuck me until we can rework the legal obligations of the merger,” alex says, naked, lazily fisting his own cock. “i don’t think they should be able to escape a looser reconstruction of the rules. at least we could take them to court and lawyer them into submission if we consider the circumstances from another angle.”


“shut up,” he says.

“for example,” alex continues, striding through his condo and dumping himself on his bed, “the bit about stocks. is it common stock we’re referring to? maybe we could modify the terms to indicate high-arch stock. that would—”

washington gags him roughly. the black rubber ball looks good in his lips.

“I know what you want,” washington says. alex doesn’t struggle when washington buckles him into the leather cuffs chained to the bed. alex rattles his bonds; the chains clinking is pleasantly musical. “and i’m not going to give it to you.”

alex snorts, audible even gagged. he pushes his hips up.

“in fact,” washington says, calmly, as he roots around in their box of toys thoughtfully, “i think that’s exactly the point, don’t you?”

alex rolls his eyes, and he grunts in complaint as washington walks away. when the man comes back, he’s holding a reusable ice pack that he presses to alex’s cock. alex startles through his gag, he works on wriggling away. he can’t get far, though, and with not too much effort washington clicks the cage around his flaccid, frozen cock. he clicks the thing shut and alex glares at him.

“i would have you wear that all day if i thought you’d be half as capable castrated,” washington says, easily. he studies the little key in hand, then reaches down and strokes alex’s balls where they’re available through the cage. alex hisses as the bumpy surface of the inside of the cage interferes with his hard-on. “but. that’s the benefit of stallions and pit bulls, isn’t it?”

he reaches through the box again, finds a dildo. drops the key into the hollow of it, and clicks it shut. he shakes it and it jingles.

“did you lube up your ass for me, you slut?”

alex’s expression is less smug now. his cool, deranged rage glows in his eyes. washington makes a satisfied noise.

“no? you? sometimes i think i don’t even know you anymore.”

alex wriggles a foot. washingon catches his ankle.

“struggle and i’ll put this inside you without any lube,” he says, with soft venom. alex clearly thinks about it, then surrenders. washington works him open with quick efficiency, slides the dildo inside of him. alexander’s moans are garbled, but it’s beautiful to watch his cock struggle against the cage, watch the pain flit across the man’s face.

“you know,” washington says, once the dildo’s nicely set inside alex and alex is breathing hard around the gag, “that point with the stock is good. i’ll review the contract.”

he squeezes alex’s balls, too hard, and alex growls deep in his throat. his face is already pale and slick with sweat, tears leaking at his eyes. washington feels calm, studying his misery. controlled. the rage drips out all over his assistant.

he stands, and listens to alex’s stifled complaints. he sits down with the contract in the dining room table and looks at the clock. 9:30pm. Tomorrow is saturday.

The contract is quite a lengthy document indeed.