Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is a universal consensus among any nine-to-five employee. Or anyone who works, really. Everyone hates Mondays. But this one? This was a special circle of hell created just for you.

This particular Monday was the first time you were going to see Tenna, your tyrannical, violent, and now intimate boss, after the company vacation. After you let him ruin you. After you accepted his deal. Your stomach was a pit of fear, making the very idea of breakfast impossible. Every step through the familiar, sterile halls of the Studio felt like a walk to the gallows. The door to your office seemed miles away.

What were the rules now? Your mind was a broken record, repeating the same questions over and over. You had accepted, yes. A desperate decision, made in the heat of the moment. But now what? Were you dating the king of the news-nightmare? The idea was so absurd it almost made you laugh, a hysterical bubble of panic that you choked back down. You'd rather dig your own grave than face a prospect like that.

No. No, you weren't going to think about that. You weren't going to think about his weight, or the shocking heat of his skin, or the low, static purr that had vibrated you to your bones…

Damn it.

A treacherous heat tingled across your skin, a full-body flush that had nothing to do with the office air conditioning. You self-consciously tugged at the high neck of your blouse, in a futile attempt to hide the evidence. The bruises on your neck and hips remained, brazen and gaping. A permanent, painful reminder that it wasn't a dream. If you could just reach your office, lock the door, and bury yourself in paperwork, maybe you could, just maybe, pretend everything was normal. You could avoid him. You had to.

At least until Friday.

The thought was a bucket of cold water. Friday. His live show. Your moral compass and his ratings-driven monstrosity were on an inevitable collision course, and given his lack of morality and questionable methods, it was your direct responsibility to oversee the program and, if necessary, stop it.

Your thoughts were a crash of contradictions.

“Huff…” A weak, frustrated puff of air escaped you. The only outlet for the turmoil raging inside you. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. You were still his employee, the only one who could stand up to him. Showing an ounce of weakness wasn't just a personal failure. It was professional suicide. You couldn't afford it.

And you had never felt so completely unraveled.

The door to your office felt like a blessing in the middle of a battlefield. You were so close you could almost taste victory. At least you could forget your troubles for a while, even if it was short.

Wasn't it all a little too quiet? 

Tenna was ruthless when he wanted to be; the chances he was up to something were disconcertingly high. Yet, everything had been unnervingly quiet since you'd arrived.

He wasn't much of an early riser, either. You knew he could barely keep himself awake in early morning meetings, avoiding coming to work on time at all costs— a fact you'd confirmed when you slipped from his room after sleeping with him; he had been completely out. So, probably, maybe, you hoped you could avoid him until you decided how you were going to deal with him.

There was only one right answer to that, anyway. You'd simply have to pretend nothing had happened. And if Tenna refused, the same way he refused at the resort, you'd have to quit. But as the thought of leaving crystallized in your mind, the truth hit you: you didn't want to leave this twisted place. 

It was complicated, but you couldn't let him ruin the delicate balance you had; you wanted that fragile balance back. Boss and employee. Tyrannical boss and the only subordinate who could stand up to him. Couldn't things just stay as they were? You weren't going to deny it was one of the best nights of your life, but… Sigh, it was Tenna. Anyone with two brain cells knew there was much more to it than met the eye. How much of the rumors about his cruel nature were just exaggerations? He had proven himself soft and caring around you, yet a darker undercurrent always remained. What of all the rumors about him was actually true? You didn't know him well enough to interpret him, despite the newfound intimacy you now shared. He was a mystery, and much to your dismay, he was starting to pique your curiosity.

The doorknob of your office was cold to the touch, and it felt like a well-deserved rest for your sweaty hand. You told yourself it was just nerves, a mantra you repeated even as the office's ruthless air conditioning chilled your skin. You had arrived here without any disturbance. Perhaps the glimmer of hope you so longed for was closer than you thought. Perhaps, just perhaps, Tenna was also certain that the best course of action was for both of you to feign amnesia and that everything would return to normal.

Your office was freezing, but a sigh of relief escaped from the depths of your lungs as you closed the door. You leaned back against the wood, letting your exhausted head fall. It wasn't going to be an easy week.

“Don't you think it's too early to be sighing?”

You froze. Holding your breath, as if that could hide you from the predator lounging in your chair, his back to you. 

Should you run? Ignore him? You hadn't even seen him, and he'd already elicited this reaction from you.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, what were you supposed to do now—?

The chair swiveled with torturous slowness. There he was, seated comfortably at your desk, legs crossed, a confident smirk plastered on his screen. That damned smile that made you so angry. You'd swear that every time you saw him smile like that, your head split in two: the part that wanted to strangle him and the part that wanted to kiss him and shut him up.

He was shorter, too. Your office wasn't designed for him to fit in without bending down at his normal, imposing height, and your chair definitely wouldn't support the weight of someone whose midsection you could barely reach.

“Why are you so surprised?” He hummed. “I was dying to see you. I couldn't help myself.” He rested both arms on your desk as if he owned it. Every move made you feel smaller and smaller. “Are you coming over of your own accord, or do you want me to bring you here?”

It was a threat. It was absolutely a threat.

“Why are you here so early?” You demanded, the words coming out much harsher than intended. It was your body's natural reaction to the predator that had appeared before you.

He simply tilted his head. “Because I wanted to see you.” He answered as if he were repeating the most obvious thing in the world. “And you?” He stood, circling your desk. “Didn’t you miss me?”

You swallowed hard. The way he stalked you brought the memories rushing back, pooling low in your stomach.

You looked away when he stopped in front of you, leaning imposingly over you. You realized you wasted the chance you had to open the door again and escape. But, realistically, who could blame you?

His hands were tucked into his pockets, the perfectly tailored suit failing to disguise his predatory relaxation. That infuriating smile was still there.

“Darling, look at me when I’m talking to you.” His words were accompanied by two fingers under your chin, guiding your face to his. “You're still the only person I shrink for; it's more fun when I can see your reactions up close.” A whimper left your throat. Tenna knew you danced in the palm of his hand, and he wasn't about to miss this chance to remind you.

“If you really didn’t miss me,” his voice dropped, a suggestive whisper that travelled down your back. “I should just kiss you until you do, don’t you think?” 

His suggestion barely registered. Before you could process what he’d said, his lips devoured you.

It was just as you remembered. The smooth, cool texture of his screen melted you in an instant, your arms flying around his neck. He wasted no time, using your surrender to slide his tongue into your mouth, tracing every weak spot he’d memorized, making you give in, making you his. The hand that slid down your waist and the one that landed in the curve of your neck were so soft, soft, soft, soft—

“Tenna,” you moaned his name against his mouth, and that seemed to bring him back.

He let out an annoyed growl as he pulled away from you. His hands ran up and down your arms before he tore himself from your body. “I don’t have the willpower to refuse you right now.” He sighed against your mouth. “But I need to talk to you,” he sighed against your mouth. His tone shifted abruptly; now he was talking about work. “Can you come to my office in a while and bring the Upcoming Programming Schedule?”

“What’s wrong with that?” you asked, puzzled. A hint of frustration rose in the back of your throat.

“Problems, at least for me.” The sigh that followed sounded weary. He didn’t seem to want to elaborate.

Part of you wanted to hug him and make him feel better. But the dominant part remained on guard. What were you supposed to do now? It was clear Tenna wasn’t going to pretend nothing had happened. The kiss had been proof enough.

His body leaned against yours, letting his weight press you against the door. Damn.

His hands slithered down your back, his arms acting like a prison that wouldn't let you escape. You were putting all your strength into supporting his weight; if your legs gave away, you'd both fall to the ground. One hand brazenly pressed against your buttocks, massaging them slowly.

You watched the ease with which his hand touched you through your pants, crudely… He was definitely a complete pervert. However, you didn't stop him for the moment.

“You're too heavy,” you declared, placing both hands on his shoulders, trying not to lose your balance.

His response came in the form of a groan from his screen, which was resting on the crook of your neck.

“I can't carry you any longer,” you pressed again. You needed him to return to his professional demeanor before someone came.

The hand that had been resting on your butt suddenly lifted you, spinning you around in the air. The shock made you squeal. You still weren't used to him carrying you around.

“Is that the only problem?” he asked from your shoulder, walking away from the door. “Doesn't anything else bother you?”

In one swift motion, he had you sitting on your desk, his hands caging you on either side. He slid between your legs, his chest pressing you back, trapping you completely. Somehow, you were grateful you'd decided to wear pants to work today; a skirt would have ridden up to your waist in this position.

“What do you think you're doing?” You placed both hands on his chest, trying, half-heartedly, to push him away. The ease with which he handled you had lulled you into a dazed compliance.

Someone could certainly walk in at any moment and see you in a very compromising situation. The audacity of this man, seriously.

“Hm?” For a moment, he stepped back, letting you see his screen. It was black, and you were beginning to understand that he did that when he was up to something. He stood in front of you for a few seconds, perhaps analyzing your expression, before using the softest tone you'd ever heard. “I need to recharge.”

As if to prove his point, his screen returned to your neck. This time, his lips barely grazed your skin, tickling you.

“That's not what I meant. What if someone sees us?” Your anger seemed to vanish in front of the giant dog before you. You let your hands climb to his shoulders, your thumbs circling his suit.

“No one's going to come into your office,” he whispered in your ear. His fingers now splayed on your waist, stroking up and down. “It's been the longest weekend of my life. It was more comfortable when there wasn't a suit in the way.” He seemed to say the last part to himself, but you understood perfectly what he meant.

It was more comfortable when there were fewer clothes between us.

Memories of the resort flooded back into your mind. His room lit only by the moonlight filtering through the curtain. His soft laughter and your body covered in sweat. Your muscles ached from the exertion, your legs trembled around his waist, squeezing tightly. His name escaped your lips like a mantra as he continued each thrust with agonizing slowness— You blinked once. Twice. Ah, you'd fallen for him again. You never thought the day would come when you'd find yourself struggling to deny Tenna anything, of all people. 

How did he do it? The anger of giving in to him so easily began to bubble up inside you.

His chest vibrated, and you felt his laughter against your neck. “I was hoping to last longer without putting my hands on you. But I guess it’s not a bad deal, if I’m being completely honest.”

His overconfidence only made things worse. There. Your thumbs stopped moving. Deliberately, your hands slid from his shoulders to rest, cold and still, in your own lap.

The change in attitude didn’t go unnoticed by him. The way his shoulders stiffened and his entire body tensed was quite noticeable. It was clear he hadn't expected to make you angry now, and he didn't know what to do about it.

“Are you angry? Why?”

Men. You sighed internally. Your feminine instincts kicked in, just as any woman's would.

“I'm not angry.”

Liar! You were, but you knew you wouldn't admit it even over your own grave.

“Look at me.”

No, thank you!

If you had known it would be so difficult to refuse him when he used that soft voice after sleeping with him, you might have thought it twice. Now you had discovered a new weakness of yours, and you were sure Tenna was quite aware of how prone you were to give in when he begged you like that.

“Look at me.” He repeated, and you finally realized you had closed your eyes. Your hands were clenched into fists at your sides, and your shoulders were rigid from the tension in your muscles.

You opened your eyes, and your breath caught in your throat. You traced the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each breath. His neck, a well-defined blend of metal and plastic, disappeared behind his immaculate shirt. The knot of his tie, the way it rested on his chest, and the suit clinging perfectly to his figure. Why on earth did he have to be so handsome? For some reason, it only made you angrier.

You understood then that any answers you wanted from this man, you would have to find yourself. And there were many things you wanted to ask him. But none of them would form a coherent sentence on your tongue.

His screen tilted, tracking your every move in a desperate attempt to read your thoughts, to fix whatever he had unknowingly done to ruin your mood. What were you going to do, anyway? You had no idea; the only thing that seemed right in that moment was having him close to you.

Your eyes settled on the black screen, emitting a low murmur of static that seemed to jump every time you blinked.

It was only now that you noticed he smelled only of his cologne. There was no trace of the characteristic smell of ashes or cigarettes.

Hadn't he smoked today? That was strange. Tenna was a complete nicotine addict.

“What?” he finally asked when you didn't seem to react after a moment.

“You asked me to look at you.”

And you saw it in his very being— that was the crack that shattered the dam.

The sound that came from the back of his throat pulled you from your thoughts. His screen was still black, but now it was rigid, fixed on your face. You could feel his attention travel from your covered neck to the curve of your breasts and down to your hips. Your body, treacherous and seduced by the attention, caused an unconscious moan to escape your lips.

And that seemed to break him completely.

His shoulders tensed, and his antennae, which had previously been drooping lazily in your direction, straightened completely. But what caught your attention most was the way his gloves stretched at the fingertips. Tenna rarely extended his claws, but you knew them. You had seen them on more than one occasion in the past, but the way the silhouette of his hands lengthened was something you had never paid much attention to before. “I can’t even hide it, huh.” His voice was laced with bitter self-deprecation, but beneath it was a hint of desperation that you had recently become familiar with.

He leaned over you with agonizing slowness, but every cell in your body immediately went on alert. It was the instinct of a defenseless herbivore cornered by a hungry carnivore.

Even so, you refused to move. It probably stemmed from that proud and determined part of you that had worked under his command for so many years. Your eyes didn't leave his screen as he leaned, nor his hands that slithered around you like snakes; your heart pounded in your ears.

“You know?” he began, his voice almost a whisper, stopping just inches from you. His height, though not as titanic as usual, was very much in character, keeping with the ruthless person he normally portrayed. “How do you expect us to continue working together?” His shadow engulfed you completely. “If you keep looking at me like that…”

You didn't understand the provocation, but you had to respond. Your pride couldn't allow him to have the last word.

As your mind raced, your peripheral vision caught his hand, moving closer to your face. The way his hips pressed against your core— Gods, you could already feel him through his pants.

“Like what?”

Well, no one said it had to be a smart question.

“Like you want me to devour you right here, right now.”

One of his claws, softened by the smooth texture of the glove, ghosted over your lower lip from corner to corner. “What makes you think I have enough self-control to stop myself when you're looking at me like this? Do you even know what I’m thinking about doing right now?” As if he needed to prove his point, he pressed his hips against you.

The air rushed from your lungs, the delicious friction relieving the ache building between your legs.

No, no, no. Don’t answer. You’ve already proven you weren’t in your right mind enough for this not to end in something you’ll regret.

He didn’t let you answer.

“But…” He started again, pulling you from your thoughts. “I’m still thinking.” He declared, delivering another thrust, redirecting your discomfort to the clothes that were now between you.

You tilted your head, questioning him. You couldn't say anything without being absolutely certain it wouldn't come out as a moan begging for more.

In return, before he could continue, you decided to return the favor by other means.

You grinded against him, making sure he could feel your whole body through the clothes, using the desk as support to get him closer. Your hips, belly, and breasts pressed firmly against his suit. Your hand took his tie, grabbing it roughly to bring his screen to your face once more. The surprise made his screen return to normal, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. How you wished to sear the image of his shocked expression into your memory forever.

He no longer had to pretend or keep his distance. His hips were moving rapidly now, seeking the friction you, too, desperately craved. Your office was now filled with sighs and the sound of clothes rubbing together.

The kisses became short, desperate gasps against each other's mouths, stealing what little breath remained. You wanted to rip off his suit, his tie, his shirt. Anything that stood in the way of feeling his body against yours.

“Damn, I’m already late for a meeting.” He sighed before capturing your mouth again. Despite his statement, the rhythm as he rubbed against you didn’t seem to slow down.

“Go.” Despite what your words said, your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist didn't seem to loosen their grip at all.

Neither of you was close, and the desire was frantic. But you both agreed to separate after a moment. It was hot. Your short, labored breaths made the office chill disappear completely.

Your legs trembled. You could feel your damp underwear sticking to your skin. Hell, you didn't want to find out what state he was in. As if he'd read your mind, he smiled lazily.

“I'll be fine. I have extra clothes at my office.”

Your gaze dropped to his pants. It was a good thing he was wearing black. If anything, the only clear evidence was the prominent strain of his erection against the dark fabric, any other traces mercifully hidden.

“Look,” he began again, bringing a gloved hand to your cheek. The claws were gone again. “Coming all the way here was a mistake, I admit it, okay? But still, I'm not going to ruin you like this. I want you to enjoy every moment you're with me so much that it's etched in your memory, and I'm not going to ruin it just because I'm too horny to hold back.”

You felt that separating from you was almost painful for him. He took several steps back, and the distance between you never felt so cold. But you both had responsibilities to fulfill. He turned and faced away from you, each breath so deep that it made his shoulders rise.

“If I keep seeing you, I’ll never calm down. I need a moment.” Somehow, that made you feel embarrassed, as if everything you had done so far hadn’t been awkward enough already.

His fists were clenched tightly at his sides in frustration. “You…” His voice was rough, strained, struggling to find his usual authority. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I’ll see you in my office after my meeting.”

You scrambled under the desk, straightening your clothes, wrinkled during the, ahem, exchange.

“I’ll go get some coffee,” you said after making sure you looked presentable.

He didn’t reply. He was leaning against the wall away from the door, still with his back to you, his figure looking far too weak. You didn't dare interrupt that moment. Tenna would never want anyone to see him weak, not even you.

You pressed your lips together; it would be best to leave him in your office a little longer.

You hesitated for a moment. This man would definitely be the end of you.

He seemed to cross the line between his professional and personal selves as if it were a chalk line drawn on the floor. The way your memory saw both the man in the suit and the man moving rhythmically over you, superimposed, was torturous. He couldn't possibly know, under any circumstances, how close you'd come to taking off his tie right there.

And so, with one more worried glance back, you went to the door and left your office.

When you arrived at his office later, you couldn't help but admire the imposing dark oak doors before you. You'd been here many times, but the butterflies in your stomach had a completely different origin than usual, and it was more terrifying than ever.

After a moment of guilty reflection and deep contemplation, while he left for his meeting, your feelings evolved into a mixture of guilt and adrenaline. Once again, you had let Tenna do whatever he wanted, without setting the boundaries you had already established in your mind.

Now you would have to face him again, and that, somehow, was terrifying.

You clutched the papers in your hands. You somehow had no idea what or who Tenna had been meeting with, but it seemed strange that it was important enough to get you both out of the situation you were both entangled in.

As you approached the door, you could hear two voices from inside. He wasn’t alone? He wasn't alone! It was a miracle. You could feel relief wash over you in an instant. You knew how delicate it would be to be alone with him again; there was only one possible outcome.

You couldn't make out anything from the conversation, but it was too late to back out. You took a deep, shaky breath, begging your pulse to slow, and knocked softly.

“Come in.”

You sighed deeply and opened the heavy doors.

The first thing you noticed was a thick cloud of cigarette smoke. You wrinkled your nose and fought back a cough before proceeding. It was already strange that Tenna hadn't smoked when he'd come to see you earlier, but the fact that he was now in this environment was worrying. You could guess that the meeting had stressed him out, but you still had no idea about it.

The interior of his office was decorated with fine wood and had a gloomy atmosphere that you often wondered where it came from. The floor-to-ceiling bookcase on one of the side walls impressed you every time you came; it truly was a work of art.

Mike stood in the middle of the room, looking at Tenna, who hadn't bothered to look up from the reports on her desk when you entered, stubbing out her cigarette in the already overflowing ashtray.

“Good morning,” Mike said wearily, glancing at you over his shoulder. The day had barely begun, and he already looked like he was about to collapse.

“Good morning,” you replied with an apologetic look. You could understand the sentiment. But before you could say anything else, Tenna spoke to him again.

“I don't care how, Mike. I don't want them here, and if I have to burn the whole city down to get them off my show, I will.” You knew that tone; you'd heard it a thousand times before. Something had set him off, and the possibility of him exploding on a Monday before lunch suddenly became so real that you'd have to make a mental note to avoid making him any angrier.

Tenna… You sighed inwardly.

The mental note was promptly ignored when you raised an eyebrow, completely unaware of the situation that had Tenna fuming and Mike exhausted. But seeing your confused expression, Mike enlightened you with some context.

“It’s about the guests on Friday’s show.” He began, but was cut off by Tenna almost immediately.

“Find a reason to decline this. I don’t care if you justify it with gut feeling and bad vibes.” For the first time, he addressed you, and for some reason, the interaction made something burn inside your chest. Yes, this was a feeling you knew. It was the anger and audacity that his persona stirred in you, the way he bossed everyone around him, as if they were mere worms. You could almost taste the anger from past encounters, and for a moment, you completely forgot what had happened between you.

The papers he handed you were crumpled where he'd taken them, as if he could barely restrain himself from throwing them away. You quickly scanned them. It was an Application Form for a Guest appearance on Friday's broadcast. There were two names on the list of Proposed Participants.

The first was a surprise, but you understood the displeasure coming from him. It was Queen. And along with the application was a rather thick packet with her information, possibly detailing why she would be a good candidate. But it didn't really matter to you; you already had a clear answer.

The second was an unfamiliar name, with a photo of a strikingly beautiful woman. The form indicated that she was a rising actress who had become quite famous in recent months. On the final page, a space for the signatures of all the department heads was almost full, except for the space above your name, waiting to be signed and approved. If you refused to sign, the paper would be thrown away.

You lowered the documents, bringing your arms to the sides. Something was stirring inside you, slowly taking hold of any remaining shred of reason. The ghosts of the kisses they'd given you weren't enough to soothe the anger that he was making you feel, nor all the fights you two had had in the past.

“I don't want them here, under any circumstances. And I don't care what you have to say about it, Mike.” Again, his angry tone wasn't even directed at you, as if you were completely invisible.

And that made you angry.

This idiot, this damned bastard. How dare he? Who did he think he was? And now he was ignoring you as if you didn't exist? He called you all the way here just for this?

You were so stupid.

And something, something you didn't expect, came out of your mouth.

“No.”

The office fell into an eerie silence, both of their attention turning to you. The murmur of static suddenly invaded your ears. Tenna's screen had gone black, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Mike sweating profusely under the pressure. You couldn't blame him. The most basic part of you, the instincts most deeply rooted in your self-preservation, told you that you hadn't just entered the dragon's lair, but had awakened it while it slept.

The sweat that broke on the back of your neck was icy cold.

But that didn't stop you. The courage and the need to defy him wouldn't subside, no matter how much your inner voice screamed for you to stop. The defiant gaze you fixed on him never wavered.

“Battat, get out of my office. Now.” Tenna ordered without taking his screen off you. His attention was fixed on you, but swallowed by black. You couldn't tell what kind of expression he had at that moment. Did he say Battat? Who was that?

But Mike slipped away without a word, practically running for his life. You could see him stumble and almost fall, but the adrenaline kept him on his feet long enough for him to dash to the door and slam it shut behind him.

The office fell into an eerie silence. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, but that didn't seem to stop you from staring defiantly at Tenna. He leaned over his desk, silent. One arm slowly slid down, but your eyes followed his every move in slow motion. He rested his head on his hand, lifting his chin slightly, as if signaling you to elaborate on your answer.

You took a deep breath, hoping your professional mask would hold until you were out of there.

“I’m not going to turn Queen down. First, I have no reason to— her application seems quite complete. Second, I don’t want to get blacklisted just for the sake of it.” It would be downright stupid to follow his orders just because he was in a bad mood, especially if they involved Queen. But if he really needed to reason with her at this point, you'd make sure to send him a full report later.

“Second, give me one good reason why I should reject a candidate who's already been approved by the rest of the Heads of Department. I work with them; I know they have good judgment.” You crossed your arms, waiting for his shouts in response. You weren't going to let him intimidate you.

But all you got was a deep sigh. Whether it was the calm before the storm or a light at the end of the tunnel, you couldn't tell.

The silence stretched on for what felt like hours. Until a low static escaped from his speakers. It was like a purr.

“You… You really have no idea, do you?” When he finally spoke, he seemed to be debating internally. You couldn't tell if what he was holding back was anger or exhaustion. After a moment, his intimidating facade returned to normal. “You want a professional reason? Well, Queen is too wild, a ticking time bomb, and I don’t want her here. The other one…” He paused, as if he didn’t want to say what he really wanted. “You just don’t understand how hard you’re making this.” His voice trailed off, and your eyes fell back on the man who had knelt before you just days before.

He leaned back in his chair, making it creak under his weight. His hands still rested on the desk, and your attention was drawn to his gloved fingers. It was like a trance; suddenly, you were back on your hotel bedroom balcony, sitting next to him, those same fingers in your mouth. The memory made you swallow hard as a wave of shame and need washed over you. You fought the sudden urge to squeeze your legs together.

“One, give me one good reason to reject that girl, Tenna.”

He remained silent, somehow reminding you of a child caught lying to their parents. You approached his desk, but it was too high. Of course, it was designed for him; your neck barely cleared the surface. You shrugged and returned the folders you held, sliding them as close to him as possible.

He rested his screen on his hand, tilting it slightly, but it was impossible to read him when his screen was a void of black, hiding whatever calculation was happening behind it.

Tenna didn’t answer your question. His screen remained a void, but his voice dropped, losing its professional edge and slipping into that intimate, static-laced murmur that went straight to your core.

“You’re right. I don’t have a reason. Not one that would satisfy you.” He leaned forward again, the distance between you feeling suddenly charged.  A cold knot tightened in your stomach. He just lied. “But this… this stubbornness,” He spoke, as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “Is this really about the show? Or are you still punishing me for this morning?”

He showed a crack in his own armor. Mixed with the lie he just told you… There was that gut feeling. You decided to weave with care.

“I can’t think straight when you look at me like that.” His gloved hand gestured vaguely between both of you. “How do you expect me to give you professional reasons when all I can think about is the sound you made when I had you on your desk?” As much as you wanted to melt once more into his words, the suspicion didn’t let you.

“Come here,” he said, his voice soft, almost pleading. It wasn’t an order. It was a request, and that was far more dangerous. He was lacing the fake freedom he was offering you with the uncontrollable desire growing between both of you.

“Why?” you asked, rightfully suspicious.

“Because I’m not going to yell. You’d like me much more when I'm begging, wouldn’t you?” His screen flickered back to life, his expression unreadable but intense. “But if you don’t come here, I’m going to get up, walk over there, and finish what we started in your office. And I don’t think either of us wants to explain that to the next person who walks in.”

Come to me willingly, or I’ll take what we both want and damn the consequences. 

As you reluctantly approached, the atmosphere shifted. Every instinct screamed that this was a mistake, but your feet carried you forward anyway. The space behind his desk felt like sacred ground. It was the first time you had been on this side of his office, and it felt like a profound transgression.

“That’s it,” he purred, his voice dropping into that resonant frequency that vibrated in your teeth. He didn’t move to touch you. He just looked up at you, his screen beginning to soften at the edges, the light within starting to swirl lazily. “Now, look at me. Just look at me and tell me the truth. Do you really want to fight about this?”

“No.” You answered honestly.

The moment the word left your lips, the world tilted. A wave of powerful dizziness washed over you, your vision blurring at the edges as if you'd stood up too fast. The lazy swirl on his screen was the only fixed point in a suddenly unmoored room. You stumbled, your knees buckling, before Tenna’s arm snapped out to catch you by the waist.

“...Huh?” The word was sludge in your mouth. Why would you want to fight him? The thought felt alien, a relic from a different mind. No, a distant part of you whispered, those weren’t your thoughts.

“It's okay, relax.” His voice sounded distant, like an echo bouncing around inside your skull.

When he lifted you to sit on his lap, your world spun. You couldn't concentrate; your head was throbbing, and your eyes began to hurt. What was happening?

“Just relax… and focus on me.” Relax. The word wasn't a suggestion anymore; it was a commandment, turning a lock deep in your mind. His voice became a sacred whisper that every cell in your body was wired to obey.

And most of you wanted it that way. It would have been so easy to get lost in his words in this moment. Of course you would forgive him. Why wouldn't you? You just had to obey him, relax in his arms, and let everything be right between you.

Your arms felt too heavy to lift, even though you wanted to hold him close.

Tenna’s voice was the only thing that mattered. “It’s so much easier when you just obey. You’ll reject the guests for the show. You’ll be happy to do it, for me.”

Obey. The word felt… warm. Right.

A split second before the command could fully root itself in your mind, the lights in the office flickered.

Tenna’s purring static hitched, ever so slightly. Annoyance, not yet alarm. His grip on your waist tightened.

Then, his landline rang. 

The old, abandoned thing in the corner that wasn’t even supposed to be connected.

He froze, in front of you, and your ears were no longer filled with his voice, but a slow, peaceful Christmas tune that glitched ever so slightly every few notes.

He turned his head, equally distressed and confused about why the old phone could be ringing now. “How—?!” He yelled, but it was already too late.

The cozy, fuzzy warmth in your mind shattered like glass.

It was a violent, physical return to your senses. The dizziness didn't fade, not yet. But the horrifying realization of the strong arm around your waist solidified like a rock. Your head pounded, the afterimage of the swirling screen seared onto your retinas.

You were in his lap. His screen was still trying to cycle through the repetitive pattern, but it was glitching now, stuttering between his face and the swirling void.

A sheer, visceral horror washed through your body, leaving you cold and stiff.

Tenna didn’t acknowledge you immediately. He was rigid with a fury so absolute it chilled the air. He wasn't looking at you anymore. His entire focus was on the phone.

And in the sudden, deafening silence of your own mind, one thought screamed louder than any hypnotic command. 

He was in your head.

“You tried to hypnotize me.”

His mind snapped back to you like a whip crack. You were putting the pieces together too fast, and he knew it.

“Wait a minute—!”

But you were already moving, shoving yourself off his lap so violently you stumbled, putting the massive desk between you. The room tilted, your head was still spinning, and it was incredibly difficult to focus your vision.

“No.” The word was a ragged gasp, ripped from a place so deep inside you it hurt.  “Don’t come near me.” You vomited with difficulty, unable to tell if the dizziness was making your words carry the venom you were spitting out.

He froze, half-risen from his chair. It seemed your words had hit their mark, but seeing his expression through the blurry vision was impossible.

Tenna had betrayed your trust in the most despicable way. He was going to force you to do something that… Had he already done it before?

It detonated like a bomb.

The resort.

Oh, gods. The resort.

That night. The way you’d given in so easily. The way you let him touch you so freely, without resistance, breaking down every barrier you’d so carefully built… You thought it was a connection. You thought it was real.

Had it been?

The possibility pierced your chest like a dagger. Had he been deceiving you all this time?

Was that the first time? A soft, hypnotic purr under the moonlight, a swirling pattern in his screen you were too dazed to notice? Had he programmed you to want him? To accept him?

You knew the emotion reflected in your eyes, because he wasted no time in retorting at you.

“Just listen, alright?!” His voice boomed in your ears, your still-recovering senses overloading, making you cover your ears in pain. 

That took him aback for a moment.

“Wait, wait!” He continued, minding his volume this time. “I didn’t mean to!” He was torn between obeying you to not approach you and trying to help you and hold you close. “Hear me out for a moment! I just need to explain it!” But his voice no longer carried the trust you blindly put in his hands.

It was a moment after that when your senses came back, clear enough for you to stand straight. Undiluted, raw rage burned in your eyes.

“I am done here.” 

Unlike the last time you left the room, you didn’t bother looking back.