Title: Best Served Cold

Author: Quinn Harper

E-mail: rat27@moscowmail.com

Fandom: Original Characters

Rating: NC-17 -- m/f rape

Status: Part I is complete but there is another piece to this story that isn't finished.

Archive: yes

Website: http://www.slashcity.net/~quinn

Summary: Umm...this is the first part of a story I'm working on and I thought I would share it with you all. The second part is m/m rape/torture but I'm still working on it. It pretty much can stand alone but fair warning, I just knocked it out in one day and it's not betaed. Apologies for any mistakes I missed. The story is a Christmas present for Juxian, Merry Christmas....and a Happy New Year to you all!



BEST SERVED COLD
By Quinn Harper
******

Aidan Clay unconsciously rubbed the rigid muscles at the back of his neck and leaned closer to the glowing green numbers on his computer screen. The figures swam and blurred before his bloodshot green eyes, sending another wave of tension surging up his spine to wind the muscles into a spasming knot. He sucked in a sharp breath, grimacing at the pain, but his eyes never left the eerie glowing screen.

He reached for his half-empty coffee cup with fingers that shook from a combination of too much caffeine and too little sleep, and took a quick sip of the cold liquid, unaware that his hair stood on end, his tie was askew, and his shirt was stained with nervous sweat. He wouldn't have cared if he had known. The audit started on Monday and unless he wanted to wind up residing in the state pen, he had to have this stuff fixed by that time.

Aidan worked in the accounts payable department at a respectable pet food company and had embezzled something over fifty thousand dollars in the past year. He thought his plan was foolproof. He created dummy corporations, then placed modest orders for common supplies. When the checks were cut, they came to him and he cashed them into a holding account. It wasn't a lot of extra money, not enough to be missed, especially not by a company as big as Happy Pets.

Only problem was, he hadn't factored in year-end inventory. Fifty thousand wasn't much money, but it would sure as hell buy a lot of pencils. Pencils that couldn't be accounted for. Aidan felt a rivulet of sweat trickle down his back, accompanied by a crippling pain that gripped the back of his skull. He had to fix this, but how? He'd been trying to come up with a plan all day long and still didn't know what he would do.

Jesus, what had he been thinking? He'd traded his future for a measly fifty grand and he had nothing to show for it. Nothing. The screen blurred as unaccustomed tears of pure frustration pooled in his eyes. He dropped his head into his hands, tasting the bitter tang of panic flooding his mouth.

A blinding flash of lightening followed by a deafening crack of thunder jolted him upright with a hissed curse of surprise. Fuck! Periodic bursts of light into the darkness drove home the fact that night had fallen and all his coworkers had all left for the weekend. He hadn't realized he had been working for so long. He sighed, rubbed fatigue gritted eyes wearily with the heels of his hands and blearily returned his attention to the computer screen. It only took a moment or two for him to understand that he wasn't going to get anywhere until he'd taken a break. Maybe not even then.

He stood and stretched his cramped muscles, uncomfortably aware of the sweat dampened fabric of his fine wool pants against the skin of his thighs and between his legs. He generally preferred to wear boxer shorts because they were less confining, but today he'd been in too much of a hurry to hunt a clean pair down and had been forced to forego such amenities. The unusual sensation of the wool brushing against his testicles and caressing his dick would ordinarily have been most distracting, but today hardly qualified as ordinary.

He rolled his shoulders restlessly, grimacing at the feel of his limp, wrinkled dress shirt clinging to his broad back. God had he been sweating today! He would have to have his suit dry cleaned for sure. That is, providing he still had a job after tomorrow.

He sighed and walked out into the dark hallway, carefully withdrawing a cigarette from an ornate silver case. He lit it while standing directly beneath a no smoking sign, amused as always by the irony of the act. He would flick the ashes on the floor too, and probably grind the butt out on the side of the sign. It was a small act of defiance but no less important.

The acrid taste of smoke overwhelmed the sourness of the fear that had taken up residence on his in his mouth and a wave of sedating relief rushed through his limbs, carried by tiny molecules of nicotine transmitted through his bloodstream. He crossed to the door and watched flickering tongues of lightening stretch greedily toward the earth in amazingly intricate patterns before dissolving into the darkness without a trace.

Another clap of thunder as loud as a gunshot startled him, though he'd been expecting something of the sort. It was going to be a pretty intense storm. He took another deep drag off his cigarette, held the smoke deep in his lungs for a moment, then released it on a long exhale. Yeah, having a smoke was a good idea. He could feel tightly clenched muscles all over his body responding to the familiar soothing ritual and the dagger sharp pain behind his eyes was slowly easing.

He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes to better appreciate the relaxation. A side benefit to walking away from his problem for a moment was that he was beginning to enjoy his current state of partial undress. His mother would be shocked..Aidan grinned at the thought, shifting his hips to generate a tiny bit of friction against his swelling sex. She was a lady in the truest sense and would have beaten him bloody for daring to walk out the door with no underwear on.

Ah fuck her anyway. She wasn't here to see. No one was. A tantalizing thought stole into his over tired brain, something that never would have occurred to him had he been in his right mind but he really did need to relieve some stress, right? If he didn't relax, he was never going to figure out the solution to his problem and what better way to do it than to blow off some sexual energy?

His hand shook a bit as he lifted the cigarette to his lips and took another quick, nervous drag. Too bad the security guard was a guy. They'd had a female here for a while but she'd been raped one night and quit. Well, what good was the bitch to the company if she couldn't even protect herself? No, this would be a solo operation, not as good as sharing the pleasure, but it would have to do.

He dropped the cigarette to the gleaming white tile floor and crushed it out with the toe of his polished oxblood loafers, heart racing with the excitement of the forbidden. He made his way back to his office through dimly lit corridors, gliding past walls lined with showcases of various pet foods and awards, advertising literature and more. No one was permitted a locked office in these days of camaraderie and teamwork so he was able to slip into his boss' office without any trouble at all.

She was a royal bitch, showering the entire accounting group with smiles and soft assurances while planning which worthless sack of shit to fire next. He hated working for her, though it wouldn't have been so bad had she been a decent human being. Not to mention the fact that everyone knew she'd sucked and fucked her way to the top. Rumor had it she'd started off in the accounts payable department as a clerk, something that might have given him cause to hope, but he hadn't been blessed with the right equipment to take that route to the top.

He settled into her plush, ergonomically designed chair, his cock as hard as he could ever remember it being. His eyeballs felt hot and his palms itched, a throb of longing stabbing him in the belly. Christ he needed this! He swallowed hard, trying to slow his breathing down, and carefully lowered his zipper, allowing his stiff prick to spring free.

He stifled a groan and touched himself, just the barest brush of his fingertips, imagining what he would do if Isabelle were to walk in here right now, her shoulder length blond hair swept up in its usual twist, her slim, lithe body clad in a fancy velvet evening gown.

"Aidan!" She would be shocked, outraged. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

And he would open his eyes slowly and take a nice, slow inventory of her assets, lingering on those firm, round tits. It would be a low cut number with half her breasts exposed, slashed down nearly to her navel. He'd know she wasn't wearing a bra because she couldn't and that the firmness of her flesh was due to the care she took with her body. She had three kids but it was perfectly clear none of those snot nosed little brats ever sucked on her tits. He would smile slowly, lick his lips and lean back in her chair.

"I'm jerking off all over your desk, bitch. What does it look like?"

She would flinch with surprise at the insolent drawl, that thin mouth drawing tight with displeasure, her fingers clenching on her tiny, useless evening bag.

"That's it, Mr. Clay. You are fired. Now, you can leave now or I can call security. Don't bother stopping at your desk to clean it out. I'll have someone clean it for you."

He'd let his smile stretch across his face and stroke his hand over his prick again..ah, shit that was good! He groaned softly, running his fingers over the taut, velvety surface of his balls and back up the shaft, imagining how her lightly tanned face would turn a dull shade of red and she would stalk over to the desk, push his feet off the edge, reach for the phone.

He would grab her wrist so hard she'd have bruises and shove her backward, make her stumble on those worthless three inch strappy sandals she worth and fall flat on her ass.

"No, Isabelle, you fucking whore, it's not going to work like that this time." He would be out of the chair and around the desk before she understood what was happening, towering over her delicate body, crumpled on the floor like a rag doll, mouth open in surprise. v "How dare you - " She would gasp, one hand pressed to her bruised wrist, still deluded into thinking that she had some power in this situation.

"Shut up." That's all he would say. Just that. Then he would dig his fingers in her stiff, moussed hair, drag her head back and present her with his cock. He wasn't overly endowed, but he'd never had any complaints. It measured seven and a half inches and was nearly three inches in diameter. It was the width that usually took women off guard and it would be no different with dear Isabelle.

Her eyes would get all teary from the pain of his fingers twisting in her hair and would go wide with understanding and terror. She'd clamp her mouth shut fast, trying to plead with her expression, trying to shake her head in denial.

He gasped, pressing down on the base of his cock to keep from losing it at the image of her classically beautiful features all twisted up with fear. //Oh yeah, you *will* suck my dick, Izzy, baby.//

He would shake his head sorrowfully and smack the bitch across the face with an open palm, leaving behind angry red imprints of each individual digit. "Open your mouth, Izzy," he would whisper.

She would shake her head, sobbing softly and he would drag her head back around so she could look into his eyes. But she would clench her eyes shut and tears would squeeze out from beneath her thick, mascara coated lashes, trickling down her smooth cheeks, to leave black smears across her face.

"Don't make me hurt you, Izzy. Open up like a good little girl because if you make me damage you, you won't ever be able to look in the mirror again without gagging."

He grinned and chuckled breathlessly, panting with the effort of retaining control of his body. He could almost feel her slender body shuddering against him, could just about hear the wracking sobs.

"Please don't hurt me," she would whimper. "Whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt me."

He would roll his eyes, exasperated with her stupidity. How had she ever wound up as the division head? He would keep one hand wrapped in her hair and drop the other to one of her magnificent tits, ripping the fabric away so he could squeeze the ample flesh, pinch the half dollar sized nipple between his manicured fingernails. She would scream, of course; she was so bloody predictable, and he would backhand her again.

"I said shut up. And open your mouth. I don't want to have to repeat myself, bitch."

By now, she would be nearly incoherent and he would be aroused to the point of pain. She would open that bow shaped mouth and he would press his hot flesh inside..

Nothing could stop him from spewing like a fountain at that image. Isabelle, red faced, bawling and shaking with terror, her tiny mouth stretched wide to accommodate his swollen dick.he groaned and curled into the orgasm, heedless of where the thick, creamy fluid landed, his entire being overwhelmed by pleasure.

When the shudders finally ceased wracking his body, he sighed and opened his eyes, pissed off that he hadn't been able to hold out until he'd gotten to fucking her tight little ass. Ah well. He snatched a couple of tissues from a gold gilt box at the edge of Isabelle's desk and roughly wiped the semen off his hand and her desk, brushing ineffectually at the white streaks that decorated the front of his trousers.

There was no hope for it now, he would definitely have to get these pants dry cleaned, he thought with a reflective smile. Didn't really matter tonight though. He was the only one left in the building save the security guard who might or might not come by and he could always stay seated to hide the telltale stains.

He stood and stretched, surprised at how loose and limber his body felt. Sex always had that kind of an effect on him though, which was why he'd done it. His mind felt cool and clear, the solution to his dilemma suddenly so apparent he wondered that he'd ever missed it.

He tucked himself back into his pants and strolled back to his office, whistling Jingle Bells as he went.



End