"When you blushed toward my deal, I didn't expect you to think about wanting to do this, Asta."
Marvel sipped his coffee, gazing downward at me. His eyes were on the small side, narrowing sharply, as if not to let the light in.
The pearl threads of ray transformed the morning into a brand new ambient optimism, finding me a way to express my energy. Marvel's office room was bright in the daylight, the white-painted wall made it even brighter. He was sitting on the swivel chair behind his desk, being unknowingly quiet as he was enjoying his coffee until he saw me sulking toward a certain reason.
"Don't make the face as if this whole thing is unfair for you. You chose my clothes, and I just did the same thing to return the favor."
I frowned to hear that from someone who told me to wear an apron in the office.
Right. Just an apron.
The rest of my clothes were lying beside me on the floor, while I was sitting knee-deep in silence. On the floor. Although, at this point, the floor would be the least of my problems.
Under the rim of the table, I had Marvel's eyes fixing on me as I was unbuckling his belt, my head in between his legs. From the very beginning, I should have already known that something like this would happen to me, and I should have said no.
And yet, here I am. Again.
"You made me breakfast, I was thankful, and now you're having yours, getting to do whatever you want."
Other than Marvel's monologue, the only sound in the room was his watch, ticking away, marking every second. Each passing moment only led to the next. So still, almost poignant and tight.
Behind his cup of coffee, his mouth was crooked and frigid, as if only used for the sort of smiles that masked atrocity. Perhaps, it was born from a lifetime of particular superiority that radiated contempt to mock me.
"Are you happy?" He asked softly, almost like a whisper. His voice had a husky drawl and every word he pronounced was in slow motion compared to almost anyone else I knew.
"S-so... big..." I recognized in a shaky voice, gulping hard. My nerves were already so bad that I trembled at just the thought of putting it into my mouth.
"You flatter me," Marvel suppressed a chuckle seeing me intimidated by it.
At first, it was just initial licking and sucking, becoming repetitive, until I was ready enough to push it inside, I tried to technically squeeze it with my throat.
"Oh?" Marvel expressed in a low tone, seeming rather impressed with my act. "Slow down. You don't want to choke on a mouthful of it," he simpered, slowly downing his coffee again.
The words he spoke in such well-intentioned purity triggered something in my heart. Of course, the whole previous line was sarcasm, because it was those lips that would only twitch upward when the satisfaction had been fulfilled.
By the arranged amber liquids, the picture of my head below drowning in his long and muscular legs was reflected on the whiskey bottles on the shelf, arching to follow the glassy curves. At a close range, I felt how his thighs were so powerful and sturdy, caging me in an intimidating manner. I was lying if I said that his legs were the only thing that bothered me. To be honest, it was his gaze, his presence, his everything.
Staring nonstop, he finally put his coffee on the table and his hand reached out to my head.
"What a view," he admitted. Seeing me deeply immersed in the whole process made him curious about my motivation.
I slightly lifted my head, stealing a glance. He was already looking at me, focused and undisturbed, knowing I wished for more connection. Gently caressing my hair, playing with the strands on my ear, while leaning back against his chair as if not to show too much interest, the way he was doing it nonchalantly, even almost half-heartedly, made me want to capture him more-
KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!
"Boss?"
I flinched as I heard the door was knocked and a familiar voice appeared from behind it. That noise startled me, and also Marvel, although he was still seen composed. His eyes immediately shifted to the door, anticipating what might happen in the near future.
"Boss, I'm bringing some documents that need your signature. May I come in?"
I was sure the voice belonged to Gilbert. In the realization that he might be hearing us, my entire body froze, in reverse to my heart that had started thumping violently. Marvel saw the shock register on my face before I could hide it, and a small grin played on his lips.
"Yes," he permitted Gilbert to enter.
For perhaps a split second, my grief was suspended, the shock protecting me until it shattered in front of my eyes. It occurred to me that it must be a nightmare, so I ought just to play along. But, even if I refused to believe in it, the reality still didn't right itself.
Not long after Marvel had given the permission, Gilbert opened the door and walked into the room. He saw Marvel sitting alone on the chair, so he just passed the documents to him. After reading the details, Marvel did his part and gave the documents back to Gilbert.
"Anything else?" Marvel asked with a total lack of enthusiasm, and Gilbert immediately knew it was another term of Marvel's; why haven't you left yet?
"About that, I'm also bringing some files for Asta to work on as soon as possible," explained Gilbert shortly with a flash drive already in his hand, then his eyes quickly scanning the room. "But, I couldn't find him anywhere. Is he by any chance here, Boss?"
Laying his elbow on the chair armrest, propping his tilting head with his hand, Marvel's eyes shifted downward, aiming at me sitting on the floor in between his legs under the table that was concealing my presence from the sides to the back.
"Asta, Gilbert is looking for you," Marvel casually told, and for a moment, I felt my heart was violently wrung as it had just lost a beat.
The warmth of my body abandoned me as quickly as Marvel's words ended and his voice vanished. The sun rays were cold and the brilliance of almost noon-hour was as dark to me as any night, even I shivered. The painful tears began to roll down the outer corner of my eyes, not because it hurt that I was still having his head in my throat, but because there was a chance that everything was real.
This man knew...! He freaking knew I was terrified and yet he still let this situation happen to provoke me!
Frowning in panic, I carefully shook my head, begging Marvel to spare me.
"No?" Marvel responded, catching my signal. "As expected, this isn't the right timing, is it?"
He playfully confirmed and then reached my head, stroking my hair with his hand again. He was taking his time to enjoy the entire moment, the entire view. I wanted to get mad, but not having enough strength to pull any resistance against him.
After a while, he turned back to Gilbert without a word, making the secretary confused.
"You heard me well, Gill," Marvel concluded just like that.
Gilbert might hear Marvel well, but he didn't understand one bit whether he should just leave now or put the documents and then leave. Knowing his boss' nature, he chose the former.
"Then, I will bring the files with me so please let Asta know later, Boss," Gilbert requested before his leave.
Marvel didn't answer, only smiled, knowing he didn't need to tell me anything as I was listening to the conversation all along.
"Gill, can you lock the door for me?" Marvel asked, causing Gilbert to halt and feel weird.
Marvel was asking, not ordering, which was so unlike him.
Boss is in a good mood and something like that rarely happens, was Gilbert's only deduction.
"Sure," Gilbert granted his boss' wish without question.
As soon as the door was shut and locked, I pulled my head away to be free from the state I had been in. Breathing, much more of coughing, was the only thing that I could do, the result of my long endurance.
Marvel lifted and carried me easily like I just weighed a bundle of grapes, walking while patting my back to soothe my cough. He laid me on the sofa and pinned me down against it. Not too close, just enough to let me feel his presence.
When I slowly calmed down, my blurred vision gradually became clear and I found his smile above my teary eyes.
"Hmm... What is this? You almost lost it," he judged the messy appearance below my stomach covered by just a sheet of the pink apron. "Could it be that being seen by someone doing something like that excites you?"
"N-no, that was..." I denied it, but until the end, I failed to defend myself.
"It's totally fine. You're cute when you're flustered," he tried to lift my confidence, coming closer to my face to whisper. "Moreover, now you have an interesting kink."
The rosy color infused my cheeks along with Marvel's blooming smile and at the end of his low voice, my eyes fluttered in a way that only deep embarrassment could bring.
I wish I didn't blush so fast, that I had some ability to keep my emotions to myself.
Yet, in an instant, I got emotionally attached and showed my true feelings as if they were transparent. I wanted to stop the triggering, but somehow I just felt unprotected, so prone to the vulnerability.
"Your body seems so delicate like it would break if I put more pressure on you, so I wondered why every time I caused you pain, you always looked like you're feeling it, acting as if you're attracted to it, like you're enjoying it."
While talking, Marvel positioned his thighs underneath mine, slipping in as he lifted my legs before continuing in a firm statement.
"I understand now."
With the back of my hand, I hid my flushed face as it got feverish by the exposure. He touched my body with his eyes and I felt like being licked all over.
"Y-you are wrong..." I disagreed, not letting him judge me. "I'm nothing like what you were talking about."
"Is that so?" He scoffed, grinding me down with his crotch. I jerked backward frantically, but he pulled me just as quick, not letting even a fraction of me go away. "Calm down. I'm going to show you who is wrong between us, so watch properly, Asta."
When my name was called, in that tone, in that manner, I looked at Marvel nervously. His predatory gaze didn't match his kind intention at all. But, it was exactly what drove me crazy because even though I knew what would happen to me, I still couldn't help expecting it.
With my eyes, I saw the man in front of me was still as beautiful as I thought he was the first time I met him. Never have I considered a man as beautiful, but every feature of him conveyed so. I could sit there all day simply to watch and still be captivated. Everything about him, all that made him beautiful, making me want to lock his eyes in an endless gaze, feeling how his lips move with mine in a kiss, and how his hands follow the curves of my body...
This is the worst.
I've been stable for many years, going undercover with all my heart. I could act on a cue, switching from one character to another, with or without preparation. If my opponent started to get suspicious of me, I would behave as if I do what I'm supposed to do from their point of view. My traps worked, they always did.
But, with Marvel, it's been the series of me setting a trap then falling to the trap myself.
All the time.