The Velvet Mafia, Part 1

In the shadowed glow of a penthouse lounge, Casio Starr leans close to Kent Reason, the magazine magnate whose sharp eyes command empires of ink and desire. Casio's voice drops low, a velvet promise laced with intent. He offers secrets—whispers of favors, doors unlocked, alliances forged in the heat of ambition. Kent's gaze hardens, but his lips curve, intrigued. Casio presses on, his hand brushing Kent's thigh under the table, a bold claim on power's edge. The air thickens with tension, each word a step toward surrender. Kent resists at first, his editor's armor intact, but Casio's persistence cracks it wide. Soon, suits shed like inhibitions, bodies collide in raw urgency. Casio's mouth claims Kent's cock, sucking deep with expert rhythm, teasing the swollen head before swallowing him whole. Kent groans, fingers twisting in Casio's hair, thrusting up to meet the wet heat. They shift—Kent bends Casio over the leather couch, spits into his palm, and drives his thick shaft inside, pounding with relentless force. Casio arches, moans echoing, as Kent's hips slap against him, filling every inch. Sweat slicks their skin; pleasure builds to a shattering peak. Casio comes first, spilling hot across the cushions, and Kent follows, flooding deep with a guttural cry. In the afterglow, influence peddled and sealed in ecstasy.