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"Hey, Zach." Chuck, working the ovens, was everything that Zach wasn't: a big, cheerful jock. "You mind refilling the napkins for me? A party order came in, I'm getting fucked back here."
Zach grabbed a stack of napkins to refill the dispensers. Hal followed him, continuing his rant. "Times are tough enough for small businesses without dealing with employees like you—"
A tirade like this was nothing new. Hal was constantly threatening to fire him, but he never followed through. Zach was a warm body willing to work for minimum wage, and good help was hard to find.
"I mean it!" Hal continued to bluster. "You think you can just waltz in here anytime you want?"
Zach tuned him out as he refilled the napkin holders and blotted spilt soda, having heard this all before. After a few minutes of yelling, Hal would stomp back to his office grumbling under his breath. It was nothing Zach hadn't dealt with a hundred times before.
But Hal didn't go back to his office. Not this time.
A customer came in, the doorbell chiming. Hal's tirade abruptly stopped, an ugly gleam entering the older man's eyes.
Zach tensed. He knew that look all too well.
"Get in my office, now," Hal said gruffly, turning on his heel.
Zach's stomach churned, but he wordlessly followed Hal into the cramped office.
Hal slammed the door behind them, flipping the lock. "You know, I was just working on next month's schedule," Hal said casually, settling into his worn office chair. "It doesn't look like there's going to be many shifts for you."
Zach stared at the stained carpet, his throat tight. He knew what was expected of him.
He didn't give a shit about this job. Hal knew that.
But he needed to pay his rent, and Hal knew that, too. He'd known it ever since Zach had first started working for him, all those years ago.
If there had ever been a time to stop this, it was back then.
But Zach hadn't. He'd let it happen.
So now he might as well get it over with.
With robotic movements, Zach sank to his knees between Hal's spread legs. He reached for Hal's zipper.
Hal let out a pleased hum as Zach took him in his mouth, working him over with detached efficiency.
Zach's heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't dare show any sign of resistance. He hated this. Hated the way his stomach churned and his pride shriveled with each humiliating bob of his head.
But what choice did he have? He needed this job, needed the money to pay for his crappy apartment and weed habit. So he closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else as Hal got into it, his cock growing harder in Zach's mouth.
"That's it," Hal purred, running a hand through Zach's dark hair, yanking it roughly to angle him into the position he wanted. "Suck it like you mean it."
Zach gagged as the thick length forced its way into his mouth, invading him. His jaw ached and eyes watered, but he didn't dare slow down or risk incurring Hal's wrath. He slid one hand down to grip the base of Hal's cock while using the other to massage the shaft.
Faster and faster he went, taking as much of the cock down his throat as possible despite the bile rising in protest. The room was silent save for the wet smacking noises of flesh on flesh and Hal's labored breathing.
"Yeah," Hal whispered viciously, bucking his hips forward with growing urgency. "You know how I like it."
His mind drifted as he mechanically bobbed his head up and down on his boss's cock, his thoughts far away from the dingy office and the rank smell of pizza that permeated the air. He thought about the times he'd been on his knees by choice, in the dimly lit corners of a gay bar or the musty stalls of a public bathroom.
He loved those times. He loved the way a man's cock felt in his mouth — hard and pulsing with need, like a living thing demanding attention. He relished in the way he made them moan and gasp, their hips bucking as he teased them with his lips and tongue, bringing them to the brink of ecstasy before pulling back just enough to make them beg for more.
There was power in that — in making a grown man whimper and squirm under his ministrations. Making them forget their worries, their responsibilities, everything but the pleasure he could dish out with just a flick of his wrist or swirl of his tongue. Zach lived for those moments when they'd shoot their load down his throat, eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, reduced to a quivering mess by his skills.
But this... this was different. This wasn't about power or pleasure. It was about survival.
Zach gagged as Hal shoved himself deeper into his mouth, calloused hand tangled roughly in his dark hair. The older man grunted above him, oblivious to Zach's discomfort as he neared climax. Zach hated himself more with every sound that escaped him, each one only spurring Hal on further.
