Page 25 of Rivals

For a moment, neither of them moved. Nick could feel Viktor's control trembling, could sense the effort it took him to remain still, allowing Nick's body to adjust to the intrusion. Then Viktor shifted his hips, dragging his cock against that spot inside Nick that made stars explode behind his eyes, and all thought dissolved into raw sensation.

"So tight," Viktor growled, his accent thickening the way it always did when he was lost in pleasure. "Every time—like you were made for my cock."

The first real thrust drove Nick forward, his chest pressed against the cool surface of the photocopier. He bit back a moan as Viktor withdrew almost completely before driving back in with enough force to make the machine creak beneath them.

"Shh," Viktor warned, though his own breathing was rough. "Unless you want the entire accounting department to hear how well you take my cock."

Nick’s head tipped forward, forehead nearly pressing to the cool surface of the copier as he exhaled a shaky breath. Thestretch, the slow, deep fullness, had his toes curling in his damn shoes. He bit his lip hard—too hard—until the sharp taste of copper bloomed on his tongue, anything to keep the moan threatening to escape locked behind his teeth.

The forbidden nature of it all—their office, the copier beneath him, the thin walls that did nothing to muffle sound—made the sensation so much worse. So muchbetter. The challenge of staying quiet made everything burn hotter, coil tighter, the stakes rising with every slow, deliberate movement.

Viktor knew. Of course he did.

Nick’s knuckles turned white against the copier’s edge as Viktor moved, dragging back just enough before rolling his hips forward in a slow, devastating rhythm. Nick’s jaw clenched, his body bowing under the pressure, every nerve alight as heat licked up his spine.

Every motion hit exactly right, deep and unrelenting, forcing Nick to fight to contain the noises that wanted to rip from his throat. His eyes fluttered shut, pleasure coiling tighter, sparks dancing behind his lids.

The wet, rhythmic sound of movement filled the small space, obscene in the quiet. Nick bit down on his wrist, desperate to muffle himself, but Viktor only picked up the pace, dragging another sharp inhale from him.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, barely holding it together.

This game had been his idea.

But Viktor was winning.

His fingers trembled against the copier as Viktor shifted, adjusting just enough to make his vision go white at the edges. The copier’s surface was already smudged from his breath, fogging beneath his ragged exhales.

“Getting a little loud there,” Viktor whispered, his voice thick with amusement and something darker, hungrier.

Nick barely had time to register the taunt before Viktor snapped his hips forward—sharp, deep, devastating. A strangled gasp escaped him before he could stop it.

Viktor grinned, smug as hell. “What happened to that challenge?”

Nick’s legs trembled, knees threatening to give out as Viktor picked up the pace. The copier dug into his hips, the dull ache only heightening the pleasure that was winding so tight in his gut he could barely breathe through it.

“Fuck you,” he grit out, voice raw, shaky.

Viktor chuckled against his back, the sound reverberating through Nick’s entire body. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he murmured, punctuating it with a particularly wicked thrust that had Nick biting down on his own wrist to muffle the noise.

Viktor nipped at his shoulder, pleased, smug, relentless. “And you’re loving every second of it.”

Nick had no smart comeback for that.

Because Viktor was right. And that was the worst part.

Nick’s breath hitched, his entire body a live wire of sensation, pulsing with need. Every nerve screamed, every inch of him drawn so tight he thought he might snap.

He gritted his teeth, trying to hold onto some shred of control, but then—damn it—the words slipped free before he could stop them.

“If you can make me cry out…” His voice was wrecked, barely a whisper, a desperate gasp torn from his lips.

His fingers clenched against the copier. The moment hung heavy between them, thick with heat, with challenge. He exhaled sharply, locking eyes with Viktor through the haze of pleasure, and smirked. “Then you win.”

Viktor growled, a deep, possessive sound that sent a violent shudder straight through Nick. Then he moved, grip tightening,hips snapping forward in a rhythm that stole every ounce of air from Nick’s lungs.

Nick's fingers scrambled for purchase as the copier rocked beneath them, plastic creaking in protest. He bit down hard on his lower lip, desperately swallowing the sounds that threatened to escape with each brutal thrust. The air conditioning was supplying a helpful cover of white noise, but the supply room's walls wouldn't contain a full-voiced moan—not with the accounting department barely fifteen feet away, reviewing quarterly reports.

The slick drag of Viktor against him—inside him—made every inch of him burn, a wildfire spreading outward from his core. His free hand flew up to cover his own mouth as Viktor hit that perfect spot, eyes rolling back as pleasure spiked through him.

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