Limits | Joshua x MC

“What made you think it was a good idea to touch me like that during the briefing?” Joshua growls in your ear.

His body is flush against yours, a scorching line of toned muscle that burns your skin even through the layers of clothes between you two. Were you in any other place, you would’ve already turned around and shut his harsh lips with yours -- but you’re at the office.

More specifically, you’re in his office. Both of you occupying a hidden corner of a backroom (... fine, it’s a closet) that’s barely wide enough to stretch your arms; he uses this place to store a spare suit, old books and an assortment of random things that a small part of you is eager to go through.

However, he’s now using this place to touch you in ways that are most definitely not workplace appropriate. His things were carelessly pushed aside in a rush to get in here without anyone catching you two, and you suspect he did not think this through at all, but it’s not like you’re about to complain.

And like a fool, you take the bait he dangles in front of you.

“I just wanted to see how you perform under pressure,” you say with much less sass than you intended to. The way his hands are running on the sides of your body and his hot breath tingles your neck make it quite hard to focus.

“Pressure, huh?” his voice is a dark whisper, and the vibration of his breath as he closes the distance and brushes his lips on the curve of your neck is enough to make your knees weak. “I clearly passed the test, so I think now is time to see how you handle it.”

Before you can ask what he means by that, Joshua swiftly undoes your pants and touches the aching spot between your legs, while clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that escapes you.

“Let’s see how long you can hold out for, shall we?”

You melt. Every stroke of his fingers is dragged out, every kiss he lays on your neck sets your skin alight. Your lower stomach tightens more and more by the second, and your mind is sent into a frenzy under his ministrations.

His touch is sinful and maddening, he knows exactly how to touch you and your desperate moans can’t even be heard with his strong hand over your mouth.

You can feel his hard bulge pushing up against your ass, a hardness you’d give everything to hold in your hands, to feel inside of you… but you know he won’t let you.

You used to think a control freak like him would enjoy giving up on control in bed -- boy, had you been wrong or what? You’re just glad this time he’s actually touching you instead of just torturing you with whispered words, harsh commands and fleeting touches.

With no warning, Joshua increases his rhythm. He’s rough and relentless, nibbling on your neck hard enough to make you shiver but not enough to leave a mark.

Heat pools in your core, and the aching spot between your legs is now a throbbing mess. Your release is close, so close that you’re having a hard time standing up on your own.

“Are you about to come?” Joshua asks in a rough voice, his breath burning against your damp skin.

Since his hand is still covering your mouth, all you do is nod desperately. A numbing heat starts to spread from your core and then--

It’s gone.

It’s all gone.

Joshua’s hand is no longer touching you, his strong body is no longer pushing you up against the wall, and your release is slowly but surely slipping through your (his) fingers.

In a daze, you turn around to stare at him. “What the--”

“Put your clothes back on, C.I. You can’t walk around with your pants down like this.” Joshua nods at you with a smug smirk on his face, and your cheeks immediately flush when you realise he left you with your pants open and underwear pushed down, and that he’s letting his eyes linger longer than they should on your body.

“You’re just going to stop?” you huff, fumbling with shaky hands to fix your clothes.

“I believe that is what I did,” he shrugs, opening the door and stopping just before stepping outside to look back at you. His eyes are darker than usual, the desire in them as clear as day when he catches your eyes. “My place. Eight p.m. Don’t be late.”

Your mind is still hazy from the high you’d just been mercilessly pulled out from, so you can’t even come up with a smart comeback to his awful invitation.

The man isn’t exactly fluent in romance, and you’re sure romance isn’t what he has in mind for you two tonight anyway, so you’ll let that slide.

Thus, you nod. And that’s enough to get that pain in the ass of a suit to give you one of his rare, bright smiles that are capable of getting you to forgive his lack of tact every single time. God, you hate how much you love him.

“And don’t worry about dinner, I’ll make us some italian.”