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Bellamy lifts his head from between Clarke’s legs, his face covered in her come. He licks his lips, the taste of her still fresh as she tries to get her breathing back to normal after her recent orgasm. She’s flushed, blissed out smile on her face, her pencil skirt pushed up around her waist, panties on the floor. A far-cry from the stern, uptight, bitch of a boss the rest of the office know her to be. He’s the only one who gets to see her like this.
Bellamy picks her panties up and helps her step into them, dragging them up her thighs to where they’ll be soaked through within minutes. He loves the thought of her walking around all day in her wet panties. It’s even better when she lets him come inside her, and he’ll rip her come-stained panties off at the end of the day and fuck her again.
He stands up, and Clarke smooths her skirt down to cover herself. He leans down to kiss her, slowly exploring her mouth with his tongue. His cock aches, and he knows he won’t be able to hide his erection if he has to leave her office like this. They’ve still got fifteen minutes until the briefing—plenty of time for her to get him off, return the favour.
He pulls away, stroking her hair as he gestures to his cock with his head. “I’m so hard for you, baby,” he murmurs. “Think you could do something about that? Think it’s time I finally felt those pretty lips around my cock.”
Clarke screws up her nose. “There isn’t enough time,” she says.
“Believe me, there is plenty of time,” Bellamy chuckles. “It will take a couple of minutes, tops. God, you have no idea how much I want to fill your mouth with my come—”
“I said no!” Clarke snaps. Bellamy flinches. “I don’t want your come in my mouth, or your cock. It’s disgusting.”
Bellamy frowns. She’s always found excuses not to do it before, but Bellamy always figured she was just teasing him. This is the first time she’s outright refused.
“What are you saying? You’re never going to suck my cock?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You can have my pussy or you can have nothing, got it? I don’t want to taste it.”
“I always go down on you,” Bellamy huffs. He’s aware he sounds like a petulant child. But seriously, no blow jobs? Ever? He didn’t realise he was dating such a fucking prude.
“You like doing it,” Clarke shrugs. “You like the taste, I don’t.”
“How do you know if you’ve never tried it?”
“I just know, okay? Now go and make me my coffee before the briefing starts.”
Bellamy clenches his jaw. He wants to argue further, but she’s made it clear the discussion is closed. She’s out of girlfriend mode, and back in boss mode. Sometimes secretly dating his boss fucking sucks.
He slams the door on the way out of her office, which he knows is petty, but he’s horny, and pissed off, and he can’t help it. Even the virgin he dated in high school sucked his cock. Even the girl who would only fuck in missionary position. But apparently Clarke is too good to suck his cock, too precious to swallow his come.
The tea room is empty when he gets there. Clarke has terrorised everyone in the company, so they’re probably all already waiting in the briefing room, thirteen minutes early.
Bellamy mutters to himself as he gets a mug from the cupboard, slamming doors, doing everything more aggressively than usual. Fuck, he needs to get off. He’s still hard, and he’s always been useless at thinking of other things to get his erection to go away. Jerking off is the only way he’s ever been able to do it.
He glances at the door to the break room, then strides across to close it, already unbuttoning his pants as it clicks into place. He hurriedly shoves his pants down, pulling out his hard cock, stroking himself, rubbing his precum all over his cock.
He closes his eyes, thinking of Clarke taking his cock deep in her throat, choking on it then swallowing load after load of his come, then begging for more. He groans, his balls tightening. Fuck, this isn’t going to take him long at all.
He lasts at least two minutes, (at least, that’s what he tells himself), frantically tugging his cock, and at the last moment he panics, not wanting to get come on himself or the floor, and he grabs the mug from the counter and fills it up with his come, shuddering through his orgasm.
He pulls the mug away, and sets it on the counter, hands shaking as he pulls his boxers and pants back up. He grabs the mug again, with the intention of washing it out before he makes Clarke her coffee. But as he looks into the mug, filled a quarter of the way up with his semen, he gets an idea.
She hates the taste of come so much? Let’s see how she likes it in her coffee. The thought of her drinking his come, none the wiser, has him already hardening again. Could he get away with it? Would she notice? Could he even go through with it? It’s fucked up, he knows that. But she deserves it.
Making his decision, he sets the mug under the coffee machine, heart pounding, dick throbbing as he presses the buttons, and the cup starts to fill. Once it’s full to the brim, he gives it a quick stir, making sure his come isn’t all clumped at the bottom.
And then he makes his way back to her office, and places the coffee on the desk in front of her. Excitement pulses through him as she picks up the mug, not even looking up from her computer.
“Thanks,” she says, just before she takes a sip. She pauses. Takes another sip.
“Is it okay?” Bellamy asks. He’s sure he’s been caught. She definitely notices something up with the coffee.
“Yeah,” she says, smiling at him. “Did you make it different? It tastes even better than usual.”
It’s a miracle he’s able to keep a straight face. “No, nothing different,” he says. He watches as she takes another huge gulp of her come tainted coffee. Fuck, he can’t wait to do this to her every morning. Make her drink his come.
“Okay, I’ll see you at the briefing,” Clarke says. “And, um—you’re okay about what I said before, right? I know I should have said something sooner, but I didn’t want to disappoint you. You can have my pussy whenever you want it. Surely you don’t need my mouth too?”
“It’s okay,” Bellamy assures her. “You don’t like the taste of come, I get it.”
Clarke smiles. “Great.” She sips her coffee again. “I don’t know what you did, but I need you to make my coffee like this every morning.”
Bellamy grins wickedly. “Anything you want, boss.”
-
He continues to do it every morning. He jerks off in the tea room while everyone is waiting for morning briefing, comes in her coffee cup, then makes her coffee as normal.
She drinks every last drop of it, always telling him how good it is, how no one makes coffee quite like he does. Watching her drink it gets him hard again, and he usually has to go and rub one out in the bathroom after the briefing.
But soon, just watching her drink it isn’t enough. He wants her to know what she’s drinking. He wants to prove to her how much she loves the taste of his come. He wants her to beg him to fuck her face, to come in her mouth, and then he wants to watch her swallow it like a greedy whore. He honestly thought she’d figure it out faster than this.
So, after two weeks of coming in her coffee, he stops. He makes her a regular coffee, like he used to, and he waits for her reaction as she takes her first sip. Disappointment flits across her face, and Bellamy feels a flash of glee. She really does love the taste of his come.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
Clarke shrugs. “It tastes different,” she says. “Not bad or anything. I just got used to it the other way. Are you sure it’s not made differently?”
“Well…” Bellamy says, smirk playing on the corners of his lips. “There is a secret ingredient.”
“I knew it,” Clarke says triumphantly. “What is it?”
“Why don’t you guess?”
Clarke rolls her eyes. “I don’t have time for guessing games.”
“It’s something you claimed to hate before.”
“Bellamy, just tell me. Briefing is in five minutes, we don’t have time for this.”
“I think you can cancel briefing for today. How about I add that secret ingredient for you now, huh?”
Clarke frowns at his suggestion of cancelling briefing, but that’s only because she doesn’t know what he has in store for her yet. Bellamy rounds the desk and takes the mug from her hands placing it on the desk in front of him.
Then, keeping complete eye contact with her the whole time, he unbuttons his pants, drops them to his ankles, then shoves his boxers to his knees, letting his hard cock spring free.
Clarke eyes him nervously. “What are you doing?” she asks, though it seems to him like she’s already figured it out.
“You claimed you didn’t like the taste,” he says, stroking his cock. “But it turns out you love it. You love it so much you’ve been guzzling it every day for two weeks straight.”
Clarke goes white. She swallows. “You didn’t,” she whimpers. “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t act all disgusted,” Bellamy says. “You told me it was the best coffee you’d ever had.”
“I didn’t know,” Clarke says, and he can see that she’s absolutely livid. “You’re a conniving asshole, you know that?”
Bellamy shrugs. “Now that we’ve established how much you like the taste of my come, how about you get a taste of it straight, huh? Lick my cock. I know you want to.”
“I’m not going to lick your cock. I’m not going anywhere near your cock again.”
“Lick my fucking cock, or I’ll tell everyone what you’ve been drinking every morning. And that’s only the start of what I could tell them.”
“As if they’d believe you.”
“They’ll believe me. And they’ll think I’m a hero. Everyone here hates you, you know that, right?” Clarke shakes her head, tears of anger and frustration in her eyes. “Get on your knees and suck my cock.”
Clarke doesn’t move. But then, with her face set in an expression of pure hatred, she slides off her desk chair and onto her knees. He’s waited so long to see her like this.
“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he says patronisingly. He knows she hates that term of endearment. She eyes his cock, looking pathetic. “What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whimpers. “I’ve never done it before.”
“Let me help you.” He grabs her chin and forces her mouth open. “Lick me. Put your tongue all over my cock. And you better look like you like it.”
She looks like she wants to cry. She wraps her hand around the base of his cock, then starts lapping at the head, like a little cat drinking milk from a bowl. The actual sensation leaves a lot to be desired, but the visual more than makes up for it.
“Balls too,” Bellamy grunts, after Clarke has run her tongue over every inch of his cock. She whines pathetically. But he can see her squeezing her thighs together as she flattens her tongue against one of his hairy balls. Bellamy wants to laugh.
She licks both of his balls, and before she’s even finished, he grabs her by the hair and pulls her head back, making her gasp. Bellamy takes advantage of her open mouth, shoving his cock halfway into his mouth. She moans.
He doesn’t hold back after that. He fucks her face, making her choke on his cock as he pushes it as far back into her throat as it will go. Tears stream down her face, but he doesn’t let up until he’s on the edge, and he pulls her head back again, letting his cock bounce out of her mouth.
“Where do you want my come?” Bellamy asks. Clarke shakes her head. “Tell me where you want it. And you better get it right.”
“My mouth,” Clarke says, trying to avoid eye contact. God, the humiliation in her eyes almost sends him over the edge right then.
“Beg for it.”
“Please, come in my mouth. I love the taste of your come. Please, Bellamy.”
He smirks. “Since you want it so bad.” He forces his cock back into her mouth, and it only takes a few quick thrusts for him to spill his load into her mouth, coating her tongue, dribbling over her lip and onto her chin. “Don’t waste any,” he says, removing his cock from her mouth. He watches Clarke swallow what’s in her mouth, then run her tongue over her lips, gathering most of the rest of it. A tiny bit sticks to her chin. He doesn’t tell her.
“Good?” Bellamy asks. Clarke nods. “Good,” he says. “From now on, you get come for breakfast. No coffee.”
“Okay,” Clarke says quietly.
“Ready for briefing?”