Overtime

Tory Mason slammed his fist on the jammed copy machine, his patience fraying like cheap thread. The damn thing had been spitting errors all morning, and now this hunky repairman, Hayden Stephens, sauntered in like he owned the place. 'What the hell kind of service is this?' Tory snarled, his voice sharp as a whip. 'You call this fixing it? It's been down for days!' Hayden's jaw tightened, his broad shoulders rolling back. He wasn't some pushover taking lip from a whiny prick like Tory. With a firm grip, he seized Tory's collar, yanking him close until their breaths mingled hot and heavy. 'You think you're tough?' Hayden growled, his free hand pinning Tory's wrist to the machine. Tory's protests melted into gasps as Hayden shoved him against the humming metal, dominance flooding the air like dark wine. He stripped Tory's shirt open with deliberate tugs, exposing taut skin that begged for marks. Hayden's mouth claimed Tory's neck, teeth grazing just enough to sting, while his hips ground forward, hard length pressing insistent against Tory's thigh. Tory bucked, half fighting, half yielding, his cock stirring traitorously under Hayden's unyielding control. Hayden flipped him roughly, pants yanked down to bare ass and balls, vulnerability laid raw. He spat into his palm, slicking his thick shaft before thrusting in deep—one brutal stroke that split Tory open, filling him to the hilt. Tory cried out, the burn twisting into filthy pleasure as Hayden pounded relentlessly, each slap of skin echoing authority. 'Who's the man now?' Hayden rasped, fingers digging into hips, owning every quiver and moan until Tory shattered, spilling hot across the machine's glass, utterly conquered.