Overtime
Reid, Vice President of Strategy, is all composure and quiet authority, the kind that makes Eli’s throat tighten and his body confess before his mouth can. A loosened tie becomes a question. A single word becomes an answer. And in the narrow privacy of partition walls and after-hours silence, Eli discovers what it feels like to be seen properly… used properly… held properly.
Overtime is a filthy, consent-forward workplace surrender with control, restraint, praise, and aftercare, finishing on the sweetest kind of threat: a Post-it note that turns one mistake into a ritual.
Saturday in the city was always half-forgotten.
The sun outside filtered gold through the blinds, catching on dust motes that drifted like secrets above the cubicle rows. The office hummed with its usual quiet, air vents and fluorescent buzz, the soft groan of old furniture, but nothing else moved. No phones ringing. No heels on tile. No forced laughter over bad coffee.
Just Eli. Alone.
He sat hunched at his desk, the overhead light too bright for his hangover, tie loosened like a confession. His white shirt was wrinkled, sleeves rolled halfway up. His fingertips hovered over his keyboard, but the screen was idle. The spreadsheet hadn’t been touched in thirty minutes.
He was thinking about things he shouldn’t.
Not numbers.
Not deliverables.
Not quarterly reports.
A deep breath filled the silence. He exhaled through his nose and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Just long enough to hear it.
The elevator.
A distant ding.
His heart jumped. He glanced at the clock. 5:42 PM.
No one else should be here.
He sat up straighter. Adjusted his tie, fingers shaking slightly. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even nerves. It was something lower. Something warmer.
Footsteps.
Measured. Confident.
Eli’s lips parted before he could stop them. He turned just as the figure appeared at the opening of his cubicle.
Reid.
Vice President of Strategy. Forty-three. Salt at his temples, steel in his posture. Navy slacks tailored within an inch of their life. Button-down open at the collar, blazer missing, cufflinks glinting. His body held the kind of tension that didn’t come from stress. It came from control.
Eli blinked. “Sir.”
Reid arched a brow. “Didn’t expect anyone else in.”
Eli swallowed. “I just had some data sets to clean up before Monday.”
A faint smile. “Always the overachiever.”
Reid didn’t leave.
He stepped inside the cubicle.
The space was too small for two. It became smaller with every inch he closed. Eli didn’t stand. Couldn’t.
Reid’s eyes swept over the monitor, the idle screen. “Busy?”
Eli flushed. “I was. Just, taking a moment.”
Reid looked down at him. His eyes caught on Eli’s loosened tie. The faint pink at his throat. The way his thighs were pressed too tightly together.
“I can see that,” Reid said.
And Eli… couldn’t move.
Reid didn’t sit. He stayed standing in the narrow space, close enough that Eli could smell his cologne. Something sharp. Something expensive. It mingled with the office air in a way that felt out of place. Too alive.
Eli’s mouth was dry.
The screen behind him went black with sleep. The numbers vanished. It didn’t matter. His whole world had narrowed to this space between cubicle walls and the man filling it.
“You always work Saturdays?” Reid asked.
Eli nodded, not trusting his voice.
Reid’s gaze dipped again. The undone tie. The slow rise and fall of breath. The hint of sweat at Eli’s collarbone. Nothing indecent, but the suggestion of it… that was the problem.
“You look flushed.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
Eli forced himself to breathe. His legs had gone tight. His thighs ached from how long they’d been clenched. He shifted in the chair, but the movement only made things worse. His cock pressed harder against the inside of his slacks.
Reid’s eyes dropped. Just for a moment. Long enough to notice. Long enough to let Eli know it had been seen.
He stepped closer.
Eli could see the lines at his mouth now. Could see the way his throat moved when he swallowed. Reid wasn’t smiling anymore. He was watching.
“You don’t have plans tonight?” Reid asked.
“No. I… was going to head out soon.”
Reid nodded, slow. “But you stayed.”
Eli’s voice came quieter now. “Didn’t feel ready to leave yet.”
The silence stretched. Reid’s hand came up, not to touch, but to gesture toward the tie.
“You always keep it that tight during the week.”
“I get headaches when it’s loose.”
Reid leaned in slightly.
“And what do you get when it comes off?”
Eli stopped breathing.
He hadn’t imagined it. That wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t casual.
The air between them changed. Sharpened.
He looked up at Reid. Slowly.
And Reid didn’t look away, but reached out.
Not to touch. Not yet. His hand came close, fingers hovering just beside Eli’s throat. He didn’t close the space, but the heat of him was undeniable. Eli’s breath hitched.
“You’ve been thinking about this,” Reid said.
It wasn’t a question.
Eli’s lips parted, but the words caught. He nodded, barely. A small, desperate movement.
Reid’s voice dropped lower. “How long?”
Eli swallowed. “Since the quarterly review.”
That made Reid smile. Small. Sharp. “When you wore that blue shirt.”
Eli blushed.
“You remember,” Reid said.
Eli nodded again.
“Didn’t know you were paying attention.”
“I was trying not to.”
Reid let his hand drift forward. Just enough. His fingers brushed the loose knot of Eli’s tie. The touch was featherlight. Still, Eli’s entire body reacted. His legs pressed tighter together. His spine straightened. His breath came faster.
“You want me to fix this,” Reid murmured.
Eli’s voice was barely there. “Yes.”
“Then don’t move.”
Reid’s fingers slid beneath the tie’s knot. Tugged. Loosened it further. One slow inch at a time. The fabric slipped against Eli’s throat, whispering.
He didn’t untie it. He didn’t remove it.
He simply opened it wider. Let it fall loose against Eli’s chest.
“There,” Reid said. “Better.”
Eli’s pulse thundered. His cock strained against his slacks. The shame of it only made it worse.
Reid leaned closer.
“You’ve got to stop pretending this is just work.”
Eli’s breath trembled. “I don’t know how.”
“I can teach you.”
He was so close now. Eli could feel his breath at his jawline. His thigh brushed the arm of the chair. He hadn’t even touched him, not really.
But Eli’s body was already undone.
“You have to say it,” Reid said.
Eli looked up. “Say what?”
Reid’s eyes burned into him. “Yes.”
“Yes.”
The word came too fast, too soft, but it was enough.
Reid stepped forward. Fully now. No more teasing the edge. His knees touched the desk, his body filled the cubicle’s narrow breath. Eli didn’t flinch. He sat still in the chair, hands flat on his thighs, face tipped up like he was waiting for instructions.
Reid didn’t speak. He reached again for the tie.
This time, he took it.
Both hands. One holding the knot, the other pulling the tail through slow and deliberate until the tie came free. He folded it once. Then again. Ran his fingers along the length like he was checking for flaws.
Eli watched every motion.
“Stand up,” Reid said.
Eli stood.
His legs shook, just a little. Not enough to fall. Just enough to betray how badly he wanted to.
Reid moved behind him. Close. Not touching. His breath came warm beside Eli’s ear.
“Hands.”
Eli held them out behind his back without being told how.
Reid wrapped the tie around his wrists.
Not tight. Not binding. Just enough to hold him still.
“You can speak,” Reid said. “If you want me to stop.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
Reid’s hands slid down his arms, from shoulders to elbows. He pressed closer, his body firm behind Eli’s, his belt brushing the curve of Eli’s ass.
“You know what I see when I watch you at your desk?” Reid asked.
Eli’s breath caught. “No.”
“I see how hard you try to be good.”
Reid’s fingers brushed the waistband of Eli’s slacks.
“How quiet you are.”
The button popped open.
“How obedient.”
The zipper came down, slow and loud in the silence.
“And all I can think about,” Reid said, voice low against his neck, “is what you sound like when I break that.”
Eli made a sound. It wasn’t a word. It wasn’t polite.
Reid smiled behind him.
And reached into his pants.
Eli gasped.
The office was too quiet. The air felt tight. His cock pulsed against Reid’s palm, already slick at the tip, already throbbing with how little it took to push him here. The tie around his wrists pressed gentle against the base of his spine, a reminder. You asked for this. You said yes.
Reid stroked him once.
Not kind.
Not cruel.
Just real.
Eli buckled forward slightly, hips jerking, but Reid caught him. One hand stayed at his chest, steadying. Holding. Owning.
“I told you,” Reid said, voice close. “You’re not ready to leave yet.”
Eli’s breath came ragged. “Please.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
Reid kissed the spot just below his ear.
“I do.”
Another stroke. Slower. Tighter.
Eli bit his lip, teeth digging deep. The only thing worse than making noise in the empty office was knowing how much he wanted to. His knees locked. His mouth stayed open.
“You keep so much inside,” Reid whispered. “So much pressure.”
Eli nodded, eyes closed. “Yes.”
Reid pressed harder. “Let me take some.”
Eli groaned. Quiet. Desperate.
Reid licked a slow line up his throat.
Then pulled his hand free.
The loss was sharp. Eli whimpered before he could stop himself. His cock bounced against his stomach, hot and leaking, still untouched now, still denied.
“Turn around.”
Eli obeyed.
Reid sat in the chair. Spread his legs.
His eyes never left Eli’s face.
“Come kneel between them.”
Eli dropped.
His slacks fell to his thighs. His knees hit the floor. His wrists stayed bound, the tie soft but inescapable. His eyes lifted, wide and waiting.
Reid leaned back in the chair. Unbuckled his belt.
“Good.”
