Chapter One
It might seem bizarre from the outside, but everything had started very innocently with a prank gift from Tim. Jon had mentioned, offhandedly, that he’d wished he had something better suited to the overactive heating of the Archives—joys of being in the basement near the boiler room, and all that—and a few days later Tim proudly handed him a package. Jon unwrapped it to find a schoolgirl outfit.
Well, never let it be said that Jonathan Sims didn’t commit to the bit.
As irritating as it had been having to adjust his boxers so they didn’t show under the skirt, Jon had honestly loved the attention. He’d never had the opportunity to tease someone like this, but now he could see the appeal. That first day, he’d had fun arranging himself and his clothing to pull all kinds of reactions from Tim, feeling bold behind their clear, though unspoken, rule: look, but don’t touch.
A few days later, Tim sheepishly handed him a pink-and-white nurse costume, complete with pantyhose and kitten heels. Jon silently indulged him. If the outfit made him stand a little taller, or smile a little brighter, no one felt the need to point it out.
Thus began this odd dance they did.
It felt nice to wear what the others gave him. Tim favored costumes that seemed to be a cross between real clothes and lingerie. Sasha liked to see him in lace and latex, which admittedly surprised him at first, but not in an unpleasant way. Martin, most interestingly of all, kept bringing Jon his own sweaters and hoodies along with the tiniest shorts Jon had ever seen in his life, always with a burning face. Jon would never say it out loud, but Martin’s things were always his favorite to wear, even if he did have to roll up the sleeves a ridiculous number of times if he wanted to use his hands.
— — —
The kissing was welcome when it started several weeks later. Sasha had been the first, coming into work one day with blood-red lipstick and a spark in her eyes. When he’d emerged from his office at the start of the day wearing her full-body harness over his work clothes, she’d reached for his hand and very slowly brought his knuckles to her lips. He watched her kiss him with light curiosity.
Jon’s eyes followed her when she turned and walked away, noting her little triumphant smile. It made him feel unspeakably happy. He kept the tacky red mark on his hand until lunch, when Sasha took it as permission to pull him close by his D-rings and cover his face in lipstick. Jon wondered why he’d never asked Sasha for a kiss before when it felt this amazing.
He only realized he’d left his door open when Sasha left his office to eat her lunch in the breakroom and he noticed his other assistants frozen at their desks. Jon felt suddenly shy. Tim’s eyes were the size of saucers, and Martin’s face was almost the same color as Sasha’s lipstick.
All three of them stopped by his office that day before heading out, one by one. By the time Martin had left, Jon’s lips felt numb, and he sat with his head tipped back in his office chair for a long time, just grinning dopily at the ceiling. Good lord, his assistants were great kissers.
Their unspoken rules decreed that the next day was Martin’s turn to pick out something for him from the growing wardrobe Jon kept in an unused storage closet. After the introduction of so much new territory yesterday, Jon felt tingly with nerves. He accepted the big soft hoodie that used to be Martin’s and the little bootie shorts with a racing heart, his pulse jumping again when Martin pulled out a pair of gray thigh-highs to finish the look.
This wasn’t the most risque outfit Jon had worn by a long shot, but after yesterday the glass wall between him and his assistants had vanished. Jon felt vulnerable. He hesitated before opening his office door, but then he thought of the kind smiles and gentle hands of his assistants, the shyness with which they’d all approached him at first, the care with which they helped him out on tasks made difficult by the clothing they’d chosen for him. He thought of the way they still jump to do the work he assigns them, only now with an undercurrent of fawning affection that Jon tried, at first, to pretend he hated.
With all this in mind, Jon steeled himself, fixed his posture, and did his best to casually enter the bullpen.
He noticed right away that the air was different today. As he walked around to check in with them one by one, trying not to feel bare without shoes, he could feel the eyes on his back. Jon didn’t fight it today when the neck of the hoodie slipped off one shoulder. He leaned forwards to point out something Martin had missed in his work, feeling with a prickle of excitement the way the hem of the hoodie shifted up to show exactly how short his shorts were. He heard two quiet gasps from behind him.
Jon had never felt this smug in his life.
The tension finally broke when Martin pulled him into his lap and nuzzled his cold nose into Jon’s shoulder. He laughed, swatting at Martin’s arms with his overlong sleeves, and two chairs behind him squeaked as his other assistants came over to crowd around him. Tim leaned in to kiss the side of his neck and Jon did his best not to scrunch up, giggling.
Sasha spoke, surprising him. “Is this still okay, Jon? Can we kiss you?”
He looked up. “M—uh—more than okay. This is wonderful.”
“Oh, thank god.”
Jon laughed again at how enthusiastically she began pressing kisses to his jaw. He could feel her lipstick smudging across his skin, down his neck. Martin was still holding him so close that Jon could feel his heartbeat against his back, and Tim had moved around to the front to lovingly attack Jon’s mouth. Martin’s hands stroked up and down gently over his front, following the shape of Jon’s torso through the hoodie, and Jon thought he’d never felt softer or more comfortable.
They got back to work eventually, after Tim found a particularly ticklish spot on Jon’s leg and he jerked and almost kneed Sasha in the eye. Jon wanted nothing more than to stay in Martin’s soft lap as he worked, but he’d already spent half an hour here with his assistants. Unfortunately, there was work to be done. He gave them each a final goodbye kiss and practically floated back to his office.
He should probably wipe the lipstick off his face.
…It could wait.
— — —
It didn’t come as a surprise to Jon when Tim asked to blow him. He’d pulled back slightly, thinking.
Tim’s hands on his hips instantly stilled. “Shit, sorry, forget I asked—” He tried to pull away, but Jon grabbed his shirt.
“Wait. That wasn’t a no.”
It was true that Jon felt only a vague distaste for touching genitals to genitals, but if Tim was offering a different form of orgasm, free from any obligations on Jon’s part, he definitely wasn’t passing.
“Just that? You wouldn’t expect me to…reciprocate at all?”
Tim lit up, though he was clearly trying to be cautious. “Just that. Only if you want."
“No strings attached?”
Jon worried he was being obnoxious, but Tim’s fond, earnest expression put his fear to rest. “No strings attached.”
Excitement bubbled up in Jon. He would love it if this went the same way as the kisses, and briefly dared to imagine being completely taken care of by his friends. Jon thought of what further barrier this could break between the four of them and something warm glowed in his stomach.
“Please.” Jon was surprised at how rough his voice was, but then Tim was beaming at him like he’d given him something incredible and it was hard to care about anything else.
Tim made quick work of Jon’s fly, pausing only briefly to groan at the black lace panties Sasha had chosen for him and slide his fingers over the glossy black corset Jon had been wearing under his normal clothes all day. Sasha seemed to like it when she was the only one who knew what she’d put Jon into, and the two other assistants had been following Jon’s rigid posture and suspiciously small waist with hungry eyes all day long. Jon had noticed.
He didn’t exactly have a lot to compare it to, but Jon was sure Tim’s skills would stand up to much higher competition than the handful of uncomfortable sexual encounters Jon had had in Uni. Tim didn’t seem bothered that Jon wasn’t hard right away, seeming to take pleasure in getting him there. Jon honestly didn’t know what Tim was getting from this, but it was undeniable that he was enjoying himself.
The quiet warmth of arousal began spreading through Jon’s body as Tim worked. It was…peaceful. Easily the best sexual experience Jon had ever had.
He came faster than he was used to, and he curled silently forwards like usual, fingers tangling in Tim’s hair, who made some ridiculously graphic noises that brought a smile to Jon’s face when he came back to himself a few seconds later. Tim was sweet enough to pull off before Jon grew too sensitive, and for a while they just sat there, Jon cradling Tim’s head in his lap, stroking his hair and feeling absurdly fond. Tim seemed dazed, still visibly hard, and Jon wondered if something was wrong.
“Tim? Are you alright?”
The man tilted his head sideways to grin up at Jon. “Amazing.”
Jon leaned down to kiss his head. “That was lovely, Tim. Thank you very much. Would you, ah, like to take care of yourself?”
“Here? Is that okay?”
Jon tilted his head. “You could sit on the other chair, if you like. You don’t have to stay on the floor.”
Tim stood with a groan and shook out his legs. Jon put everything back in his pants and zipped up his fly, cinching his belt again to the absurd measurement Sasha’s corset gave him. He dug back into his paperwork as Tim settled himself into the chair opposite him and began jerking off.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m just working,” Jon said.
Tim made an odd noise. “That’s, uh, kind of hot, actually.”
“Hmm.” Jon smirked as he cross referenced something from his notes, listening as Tim began to pant. “In that case, try not to make a mess when you finish. Use the tissues on my desk if you must.”
It was flattering how quickly Tim came after that. Jon dropped his semi-pretense of distraction to hand him several tissues, feeling extra smug about the sweat standing out on Tim’s forehead. He pulled him in for several minutes of kisses before finally letting him back out into the bullpen, hoping the others got back from lunch recently enough to see the mess Jon had made of his hair.
Jon hoped it was obvious to the others what they had done together. For a while, he allowed himself to daydream about the softness of Martin’s hands and the cleverness of Sasha’s tongue. Even though they probably wouldn’t be interested in just getting someone off with nothing in return, it was still nice to think about. A man could dream.
Chapter Two
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Martin’s hand stilled on his cock, and Jon wriggled impatiently.
“For the last time, Jon, I’ve wanted to do this for literal months. Are these the actions of a man who’d rather be doing something else?” He sounded mildly hysterical, and for a moment Jon felt foolish, but then Martin gave him an absolutely incredible stroke and it was back to that warm, happy place.
Jon loved his assistants.
It was hard to feel any other way, when they seemed so dedicated to making him happy. Jon was entirely naked at the moment except for a thick collar that Sasha had hooked two of her fingers under. Between that and her arm around his waist, Jon was trapped on her lap with Martin’s big hand working between his legs—not that he wanted to move. This felt like lying in the sun.
“Hey, guys! What’s—” Tim froze in the doorway. Jon felt Martin tense up beside him (and around him, ouch). Sasha kept running her nails over his ribs possessively, and Jon could almost feel the shit eating grin she sent at Tim.
“Hi, Stoker! Late again?”
Tim opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, his face cycling through too many expressions for Jon to keep track of. Jon scowled. Maybe they were having a moment, but he’d been close, okay.
“Are you three just going to stand there? Do I have to beg?” Jon’s voice didn’t sound as grouchy as usual, but at least it turned Martin’s attention back to him.
“O-oh! Sorry, Jon!” Martin started back up again, and Jon let out a content sigh. The man’s face was extraordinarily red right now, but Jon could figure out what that meant later.
Just as Jon reached climax, Tim kissed him deeply, and Jon came with a groan. Three sets of hands caressed him as he came back to earth. Jon felt like he was bundled in a blanket of affection.
He was still pretty out of it when Martin grabbed the fuzzy jumper off the back of his chair and guided Jon into it, and when Tim ran to get a ridiculously short tennis skirt and chunky platforms from the closet. Jon grumbled good-naturedly as Tim strapped him into the shoes, already imagining the nightmare of trying to walk in them only a few minutes postcoital.
As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry; Martin carried him easily enough to the breakroom, where they all squeezed onto the couch, draping a pliant Jon across all of their laps. Jon was vaguely aware that he still wasn’t wearing underwear, and his junk was definitely showing from under Tim’s skirt. It made him feel vulnerable, but in a soft, achingly intimate way that had Jon curling closer into his three assistants’ warmth.
Martin was stroking his hair in a way that raised the nicest goosebumps on Jon’s arms. Sasha had a hand under his sweater to feel up his stomach, and another wrapped around one of Jon’s meager thighs, squeezing as though she disagreed with Jon about how appealing they were. Tim took Jon’s shoes off again, happy to rub at Jon’s feet with a deep pressure that had Jon curling his toes. Every part of Jon tingled. He felt like he’d been touched all over. He felt like he’d been known.
It wasn’t long before Tim began whining about how he’d missed most of their morning with Jon. Sasha tilted Jon’s face towards hers with mischief in her eyes and waited until Jon was looking at her to ask him if they could go again. Jon stretched deliberately.
“Well, you’re welcome to try.”
And try they did. It was odd to have three people so focused on his junk, but Jon couldn’t deny that they were effective. It was barely twenty minutes before he was curling inwards again, ears ringing and vision black as he was kissed and sucked through a second orgasm.
It took Jon a while after that to remember that they had work to do. Tim and Martin had switched places at some point, but Sasha still had his ass in her lap, and she kept toying with his balls, barely covered by the hem of the skirt. It was almost too much. It was perfect.
He was aware of Tim and Sasha very unsubtly communicating a desire to hook up once Jon was back in his office, and through his sleepiness Jon gathered that Martin had come in his pants at some point. For some reason, that made Jon feel unspeakably fond of the man.
Martin helped Jon back to his office, as he was wobbling worse than ever both from the shoes and from his three assistants’ attentions. They both ignored the way Tim and Sasha hurried off together to the Archive’s unisex bathroom. After several more minutes of deep, strong kisses that left Jon absolutely boneless, Martin left him in his desk chair.
All four of them began the workday an hour and a half late.
It was so worth it.
— — —
It didn’t take them long to settle into a new routine. Jon had shyly let them know he’d be happy to come at any time and he’d tell them on the rare cases he wasn’t, so they should feel free to initiate whenever they felt like it. The three of them had stared at Jon with the hungriest eyes he’d ever seen. It was immensely flattering.
Lately, when Jon arrived at work, the one in charge of choosing his things just pulled him aside and helped him strip. Sometimes this escalated, but usually they held off until Jon was in whatever kinky clothing they had picked out. (Jon had only turned down an escalation once, and it was because he needed to run to the bathroom, not from a lack of interest on his part.)
Jon didn’t think there had ever been a time in his life where he’d masturbated daily or gone for a second orgasm after the first. He couldn’t deny it was nice, though. Jon realized, about a week in, that his work was no longer the most important thing in his life. It hadn’t been replaced, but to Jon it seemed work had sunk back into a healthier priority level, down below things like sleep and food for maybe the first time since his promotion. Going home no longer felt like tearing himself away from his work, but like stepping into a mini-retreat where he could let his tingling skin and wobbly legs calm themselves, and rest up in preparation for another, uh, vigorous day ahead.
As his assistants got more comfortable with his blanket permission, and after many conversations confirming his boundaries—no interest in genital contact or giving pleasure, but everything else was great—the three of them began to get bolder. Some part of Jon lamented that their productivity was flagging slightly, but he wasn’t willing to give this up.
— — —
Jon noticed the outfits were getting less and less innocent with each passing day. There had been one memorable morning when Sasha brought him a pair of cat ears, a little jingly collar, and a tail that attached in a very intrusive way, and Jon only hesitated a little bit before allowing himself to be “dressed” in just those. The plug was mildly unpleasant, until it…wasn’t. Something about the place it was nestled up into began to spread warm, slow arousal through Jon’s body, and he realized, oh, that must be his prostate.
Sasha wiped the lube off her hands and reached into her bag. “I’d be surprised if you said yes to this next thing, Jon. Please don’t feel pressured,” she said, pulling out a ball gag.
Jon blinked in surprise. He searched his feelings for any hesitancy, but surprised himself by finding only interest. “As long as I don’t have to keep it on all day.”
“Oh my god. Okay.” Sasha laughed a little, sounding mildly hysterical. She leaned in to kiss him a final time before lifting the gag up to his mouth.
It felt odd to close his mouth around the ball, but not in a bad way. The straps tightened as Sasha buckled it behind his head and excitement stirred in Jon’s stomach.
She hooked a finger under his collar and guided him over to her desk. Jon did his best not to stumble as he was led. He blushed at a wolf whistle from Tim and a quiet curse from Martin, keeping his head down until Sasha instructed him to sit in her lap as she worked.
It was difficult to find a position that didn’t shift the plug in strange ways, so by the time Jon was seated comfortably, he was already half-hard. Sasha reached around his bare torso to open her computer.
Odd as this was, it felt nice to be cradled like this by someone focused on something else. The gag in his mouth was just uncomfortable enough that Jon could never really forget it was there, and it was bizarrely soothing to know that even if he wanted to say something, he couldn’t. He was just here in Sasha’s lap, mute and exposed. Jon felt like a pet.
His thoughts paused. Was Jon a pet? Not just now, but the rest of the time, too? His assistants definitely pampered him like one, and they barely asked for permission anymore when they wanted to do something to him. Jon supposed that kind of did make him a pet.
He was the office pet.
Jon tucked his face into Sasha’s shoulder, not sure how he felt about that realization.
He startled a little when her left hand drifted to his inner thigh. She scratched her nails lightly over his skin, and Jon’s yelp was muffled through the gag. Sasha seemed to ignore him. She kept teasing him, and at one point switched hands to tug at his tail, which drew another muffled yelp from him. Sasha chuckled and began working at the base of the plug, using her grip on the tail to jostle the bulb inside him, and Jon’s slight inhibitions fell away as he went back to that nice soft place of an approaching orgasm.
She took the gag out once he came, which was a relief in the moment, but as the day wore on Jon found himself missing it. He approached Sasha a little after lunch and sheepishly asked if he could wear it again.
He came two more times that day.
— — —
Jon wouldn’t have been surprised even before all this if someone had told him that Sasha was kinky, or even Tim, but Martin was a different story. Though the man delighted in sharing Jon with the others, and Jon had seen solid proof of him enjoying watching Tim and Sasha make a mess of Jon, Martin had a major thing for performative possessiveness. The sweaters were a big deal for him, but they’d only been the tip of the iceberg.
This was how Jon had ended up splayed across Martin’s desk, squirming with frustrated arousal while Martin took a break from blowing him to write his name in sharpie across Jon’s thighs, his stomach, his chest, his throat, even dipping into the cleft of his ass.
Afterwards, assessing the “damage” in front of the bathroom mirror—today wearing Martin’s socks and one of Martin’s massive tanktops and nothing else—Jon felt a little thrill. He traced his fingers over one signature across his meager pecs, lingering on an absurd little heart the man had drawn around his nipple.
Jon felt treasured. He felt owned, the way a home was owned, or a cat. He felt anchored.
Of course Tim and Sasha wanted in on the fun when they got back from their lunch break. Jon laughed as their markers tickled his skin, laid out bare on top of his own desk. He got back to work with new marks on the sole of a foot, his calf, his upper arm, an armpit that Jon was sure Sasha did just to see him try to wiggle away, and two more on his ass.
The marks took almost a week to fade. It was a week of the most minimal clothing choices Jon had experienced so far.
Next Monday, his assistants ambushed him, stripping him and carrying him over to the break room table to mark him up all over again, Tim going so far as to decorate his lower abdomen with the words FREE CUM and several descriptive illustrations. Jon couldn’t even pretend he hated it.
While Jon lay in bed at night, trying to sleep, the words on his skin felt like an extra embrace, and it was easy to drift off with that tangible reminder of who he belonged to. The evidence of their affection for him was literally written on his skin, and Jon loved it.