a/n: thank you so much to dani @ghostgirl-22 for beta reading and both dani and diya @diyasgarden for being vested, it’s helped me keep going! this is the longest thing i’ve ever written (7k-ish words) and posted, completely self indulgent but I hope you enjoy :)
pairing: ceo!art donaldson x ceo!patrick zweig
summary: art hates nepo babies, patrick is a nepo baby. hate to love, teasing, flirting, and tashi is all-knowing (and a lesbian) of course
In Art’s head they were rivals. Art Donaldson was the second youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 investment company in New York City. His firm had their hands in many pots, buy-side, sell-side, reinsurance. He was second youngest only to Patrick Zweig. CEO of Zweig Limited Inc. He was younger than Art only by 3 months. Patrick was also a cocky son of a bitch. In Art’s head Patrick’s title didn’t even count since he was handed down that position from his dad. If there’s one thing Art hates more than egomaniacs, it’s nepo babies.
Art worked so hard to get where he was. Graduated his undergrad (summa cum laude) with a degree in Structured Finance. Busted his ass as an actuary, calculating risk for other people. Finished his executive MBA with a concentration in finance while still working full time. Now he runs the whole damn thing. His promotion was the culmination of hard work, luck, and networking.
So in Art’s head, they were rivals.
When Forbes dropped their 40 under 40 list, it ticked Art off that Patrick was listed one spot above him.
They’ve never met in person but Art was sure they’d bump into each other. Tonight was the Forbes lists gala where all the 30 under 30, 40 under 40, etc participants would come and receive their awards in person.
Lo and behold, during the cocktail hour while Art was ordering a drink from the bar, a voice sounded behind him.
“I would’ve bought you a drink but somehow I get the vibe you wouldn’t have come home with me after,” Patrick grins inserting himself next to Art at the bar.
“Of course you would assume that buying someone a drink means they’re obligated to engage in anything with you.” Art scoffs, pulling out his wallet. Since it’s an open bar, he grabs a $20 to put in the bartender’s tip jar.
Patrick watches him. Eyes glued to where Art picks up his whiskey glass to take a sip.
“You really think I’m a dick don’t you?” Patrick questions. He nods towards the bartender, “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“No,” Yes, “I just think that you think you’re above everyone else.” Art shrugs, taking another sip.
Patrick smirks, pulling his wallet out to tip the bartender a $100 bill. Art watches him. Show off.
“I don’t think I’m above anyone. Except for you, considering I am taller than you,” Patrick looks around, surveying the room. Whiskey glass weighing heavy in his hand.
Art can already feel his eyes getting tired of consistently rolling at everything Patrick says. “We’re the same height,” Art shoots back. It’s taking everything in him to not look at Patrick. He wants to say, Well let’s just stand back to back and settle this right now, but for some reason that feels a little childish. So Art settles with continuing to stare off at the gala happening in front of him.
Patrick turns back towards Art’s direction. He’s leaning against the bar, sizing up Art for a second. Looking him up and down at a painfully slow pace, like he’s contemplating something.
He’s about to step away from the bar but decides to leave Art with one last comment. He licks his lips before leaning in to whisper right by Art’s ear. Art almost flinches at how close Patrick is to him right now.
“Maybe in your dreams. Everyone’s the same height when they’re lying down,” Patrick winks at him when stepping away. He makes his way further into the crowd.
Art is frozen in spot. His heart is racing and his pants are tightening.
“No Tashi you don’t get it. I don’t like him, he’s an arrogant asshole,” Art says.
His desk phone is on speaker as he stands facing the floor to ceiling windows in his office, appreciating the view.
Tashi hums on the other side of the phone. Tashi was Art’s right hand women. He promoted her to CPO (Chief Product Officer) shortly after he was promoted to CEO. They’ve been best friends since college. Of course they had tried their hand at dating a long time ago, but decided it was better to be friends.
Her office was on the other side of the floor since she preferred south facing windows.
“Sure you do,” She laughs, leaning back in her desk chair.
Art scrunches his eyebrows together, turning to face the phone, “What? You know I do.”
“Okay let’s say you do hate him. It’s still clear that he wants to fuck you,” She shrugs, bored. Art was the most oblivious person on the planet, especially when it came to judging people’s perceptions of him.
“What are you talking about?” He questions sitting down at his desk.
“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again. That man wants you Art. I know you complain about his email etiquette and how he speaks to you, but it’s so painfully obvious that he’s teasing you. Now whatever you decide to do about it is your own decision,” She sighs continuing, “Now that that’s settled, we have a 10am meeting with the rest of the board so I’ll see you there.”
And with that she hangs up, dial tone ringing throughout Art’s office.
Art doesn’t usually go to the company happy hours at the bar across from their office building, but he was trying to get know some of the new employees more, and hang out with some old ones he already knew.
There was alot of joking from his old teammates saying, “Well you’re the big boss now,” and “So when’s our next bonus exactly?” It was nice to just hang out and have fun for once. Tashi was right, being the one that convinced Art to go since “All you do is work, just go have some fun.”
Art was about to order another drink at the bar until the bartender handed him a glass of whiskey unprompted.
“The guy over there sent you a drink,” The bartender points to the other side of bar where Patrick is sitting. Oh fuck off.
Art storms over to the barstool Patrick is occupying, “Are you stalking me or something?”
Patrick huffs, “Don’t flatter yourself sweetheart.”
“How else am I supposed to take it when you buy me a drink?” Art questions, raising his voice. He was a little tipsy so maybe he didn’t need another drink anyway, this was a work thing after all.
“How many drinks have you had?” Patrick, amused, asks leaning his elbow on the bar top.
“None of your fucking business,” Art grunts, “Stay the fuck away from me.” He turns his back to Patrick, going to rejoin his colleagues.
Later that night, Art definitely got little more than tipsy.
Patrick had been watching him most of the night. He watched as Art got goaded into a drinking game that he shouldn’t have participated in. Watched Art go from tipsy to drunk ridiculously fast.
Once someone dared Art to dance on the table and Art tried to actually do it, Patrick stepped in.
“Okay I think it’s time to go home, don’t you?” Patrick asks, grabbing Art’s shoulder to pull him away from the table.
“You’re no fun,” He huffs slurring his words severely.
Patrick throws Art’s arm over his shoulder, walking them outside. “Hey no, don’t touch me,” Art slurs, making no attempt to push Patrick away.
Patrick gets off the phone with his driver, who’s now on the way to pick them up. He sighs, “I’m gonna take you home, what’s your address?”
“Stranger danger, ‘m not telling,” Art huffs like an absolute child.
“If you don’t tell me, then I’m just gonna have to take you back to mine. Is that okay?
“ ‘m cold,” Art whines squeezing his eyes together like if he imagines his bed hard enough, he’ll teleport there.
Patrick sighs in amusement, “The car is almost here.”
“But I’m cold right now,” Art whines again and Patrick rolls his eyes, despite how cute he thinks Art is being right now.
So he takes off his jacket, throwing it around Art’s shoulders and pulling Art into a hug. Shielding him from the cold. But Art is the drunk one, he shouldn’t even be cold.
The car ride is short, Patrick doesn’t live too far away and since it’s so late there’s not too much traffic. Patrick lives on the upper west side, in one of those brownstones that have been converted to one big unit instead of several smaller units. His house had 3 floors, equip with both an elevator and stairs. Specifically for times when he was too drunk to walk up two flights of stairs.
Except now he was loading Art into the elevator to take him up to the guest bedroom. Art had stayed quiet for the most part, tiredness most likely taking over. Art did make one comment about how big Patrick’s house, saying “This is like a million square feet,” hyperbole of course.
Once they got to the guest room, Art plopped face down onto the bed. Patrick took his jacket back, tossing it to the side. He pulls Art’s shoes off before asking, “Do you want me help you take off ur clothes or you’re okay?”
Art just mumbles something incoherent and shakes his head into his pillow. Patrick shakes his head, smiling. He seriously can not wait to see the aftermath tomorrow.
Just as he’s about to go to his own room, he hears a whine from Art, “Stay with me,” He slurs.
Patrick raises one eyebrow, “You sure? Not gonna try to kill me in my sleep or something?,” He jokes.
Art shakes his head no, “Can you just hold me til I fall asleep?” He says just above a whisper. And that’s the cutest fucking thing Patrick has ever heard, how can he not oblige.
He does grab a bottle of water and advil from the en suite bathroom, to leave on the night stand for Art when he wakes up. Afterwards, he ends up spooning Art in his 2nd floor guest bedroom.
What Patrick expects to wake up to is a disgruntled hungover Art who berates him for taking Art home against his will. Probably says a couple smart things about how buying a drink does mean taking someone home for Patrick.
Instead Patrick has the absolute pleasure of waking up to Art mid wet-dream. At first he thinks Art is messing around, trying to get back at him or something? No clue.
They were still cuddling but now Art was laying on Patrick’s chest, one of his own legs thrown over Patrick’s leg. Except now Art was fully humping Patrick’s side. His hard length pressing into Patrick’s hip, grinding against him.
Patrick wasn’t sure if he should wake Art up until he hears a very soft, very faint whimper that sounds alot like Patrick leave Art’s lips.
This just got a whole lot more fun.
Patrick keeps watching Art. The way Art is gripping Patrick’s waist to get a better angle. His whines getting a little louder, more distinguishable, he’s definitely dreaming about Patrick.
So Patrick being the gracious person he is, kisses Art’s shoulder before softly before moving his hand down to palm Art over his slacks (since Art refused to get undressed before passing out last night).
That really makes Art responsive, which in turn wakes him up.
Art takes a deep inhale through his nose, sitting up way to fast, very confused by his surroundings.
“What? Why—huh?” He questions, holding his head since he has a pounding headache. Still hungover for last night.
“Good morning,”Patrick laughs lightly, “You had a little too much to drink last night and wouldn’t tell me your address so I could take you home. So now we’re at mine,” Patrick continues, still palming Art’s hard length.
Art bites his lip to hold back a whimper, “Why are you—doing that?” Bringing his gaze down to focus on Patrick’s hand on him.
“Did you sleep well? Have any dreams?” Patrick smirks, moving to unbuckle Art’s pants.
“I-I didn’t—,” Art is flustered and his decisions making skills are still not fully recovered from last night.
“I think you did,” Patrick insists as he starts jerking Art off, “Tell me, I wanna know what happened in your dream.”
Art shakes his head no, “I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t,” He moans out. His hips are already bucking into Patrick’s fist. He’s already close.
“Why are you lying to me? Were you lying this whole time? Did you actually hate me or was that a lie too?” Patrick whispers in Art’s ear, taking the time to lick up the side of Art’s neck and nibble at his ear lobe.
Art groans closing his eyes, “Patrick I can’t,”
“Fortune 500 CEO gets a little stupid with my hand on his cock right?”
“Fuck—gonna cum, shit.” Spilling over Patrick’s fist, some of it even landing on his dress shirt.
Art leans back, slumping against the pillow. Patrick going to wash his hands and get a washcloth from the bathroom.
“You know, deep down I always knew it was an act,” Patrick says, walking back to sit at the foot of the bed, in front of where is sitting.
Art scoffs, “Wasn’t an act. I genuinely think you’re a dick.”
“Says the man who just let me jerk him off,” Patrick retorts looking at the cum stains on Art’s shirt.
Art huffs unbuttoning his shirt to take it off, “Doesn’t mean anything, thought you hated me too.”
“Why would I hate you?” Patrick chuckles.
“Because you’re like— or like—,” Art is realizing just how baseless his hate of Patrick was. Even if Patrick was a nepo baby, so was 80% of all the business world.
“You have no idea, do you?”
“Well it just feels like you don’t respect me and I get that our positions in this space are similar—“
“You think I don’t respect you?”
“Your email etiquette is awful and you always make fun of me—“
Patrick starts laughing, cutting Art off. “I was just teasing you, that’s just how I flirt. Didn’t know if you liked guys.”
“Oh.” So Tashi was right. Well when isn’t she right? She was going to have a field day once Art told her what happened.
“But I guess I have my answer now,” Patrick shrugs smiling, “If you want you can shower in the en suite. I should have some clothes in the closet too if you want.”
“Yeah, yeah I’ll do that,” Art sighs running hand through his hair.
“Left some painkillers on the nightstand and I’ll make us some breakfast so come downstairs when you’re done.”
Art made his way downstairs in a clean pair of Patrick’s sweat pants that were a little big for him and a white t-shirt.
He takes a seat at the kitchen island while Patrick finished plating their food. The silence is a little awkward at first. The only sounds being the utensils Patrick is using to plate their food, faint sounds from the street outside. Art is picking at his thumb, nervous habit he could never really kick.
He takes this time to observe his surroundings. Patrick’s house was surprisingly homey? It didn’t really seem like a bachelor pad at all. There were curtains on the windows, a plush rug on the living room floor, and a mix of family photos and art on the walls. It was still cohesive. A prominent vibe Art could only describe as warm.
Art’s condo was nothing like this. Tashi had offered to help him, maybe even hire an interior designer but Art didn’t see much of a point since he spent so much time in the office.
The sounds of the plate being placed in front of him startling him.
“Thanks,” Art says, eating a forkful of eggs.
Patrick goes to sit in the barstool next to him, but not before pushing the barstool to be impossibly close to Art, “Not what you expected I’m guessing.”
Art shakes his head no in between bites, “Thought this would be more like a bachelor pad or something.”
Patrick laughs before sipping his water, “God forbid a man have taste.”
“No it’s just nice is all. Like warm, homey,” Art shrugs not looking up from his plate. He had finished the eggs. There was a stack of 2 pancakes left untouched.
“First you think I have no taste, and now you think my cooking sucks?” Patrick gestures towards the pancakes on Art’s plate, “I saved you from embarrassing yourself in front of your employees, slaved away in the kitchen to make you the best pancakes known to man, and this is how you thank me?” He jokes.
Art side eyes him, small smile on his lips, “No I— the eggs were surprisingly good. Pancakes just have like no nutritional value.”
“Oh you’re one of those gays,” Patrick smiles shoving Art’s shoulder lightly. He stuck his fork into the pancakes on Art’s plate to start eating them.
“What are you even talking about?” Art scoffs. He’s not even gay he’s just…open.
“Like the guys who are always at Equinox because they have to workout and be fit and are so obsessed with their body image. And go to Fire Island every summer.”
“I mean I never said it wasn’t me, but I still ate both our pancakes. Would love to eat your cake sometime though… ”
Art shoves Patrick playfully, “Fuck off,” He was actually enjoying Patrick’s company more than he’d like to admit. But it was already 2pm on a Saturday and he needed to start prepping for work on Monday. “I need to go home and- and yeah. I should go.”
“You can take the car if you want, I can have Paul drop you off,” Patrick offers.
“No it’s fine subways faster anyway,” Art says standing up, walking to put his plate in the sink “Thank you for breakfast and for saving me last night as you so nicely put it. Kidnapping is more like it.” As he makes his way to the front door to put his shoes on.
“Anytime,” Patrick smirks following him to the door to see him out.
When Tashi walked into Art’s office on Monday at 7:30am she knew something was different.
“You’re early,” He says out loud, not looking up from the two glowing monitors sitting atop his desk.
“I’m always here early, it’s nice working when the floor is empty,” She shrugs.
He nods, “Well usually it’s just me and my EA (executive assistant) since we both get here at 7.”
“No me and my EA also get here at 7 everyday,” She insists.
“Then how come I never see either of you then?” He leans back in his desk chair, looking at her as he speaks.
“You look different.” She continues, grazing over his question.
“What’re you talking about?”
Tashi perches herself on the edge of Art’s desk, crossing her arms. She studies Art face for a moment. He tries to keep his face neutral, unsure what she’s searching for. There’s no way Tashi would be able to tell what happened this weekend right?
“You seem more relaxed. Released some pent up energy maybe. Did you fuck someone?”
Blood rushes to Art’s face at the casual way Tashi can talk about something like this like it’s the weather, “No I didn’t fuck anyone. Now can you leave so I can prep for the board meeting?”
She sighs standing up, “Fine. But I’ll figure out what it is. I always do.”
Art had been in his head all day. Mainly about work stuff since Q3 was ending soon and anytime it’s quarter opening or closing he’s always busy. So pretty much he was busy all the time.
The added anxiousness of Patrick weighing on his shoulders. He doesn’t know what his next move should be. He had fun, sure, but what did Patrick want out of this? Like fuck buddies or like…more?
And maybe Art is just too in his head. Maybe it was a one time thing and that’s it. But why did that thought make him sad?
There’s a knock on his door which pulls him out of his thoughts. There leaning against the door frame, stood Patrick. Black slacks stretched over his long legs topped with a crisp white button up that had not a single wrinkle in sight.
“How did you even get in here?” Art questions as his stomach turns and his heart rate picks up.
“I have my ways,” Patrick shrugs, pushing off the door frame to walk inside the office, looking around, “This is nice, no privacy though,” Patrick notes looking at the wall of floor to ceiling glass windows that separates Art’s office from the rest of the floor.
Art keeps his eyes locked on Patrick’s movements, “I have a remote to change it to privacy glass. How did you even know I’d still be here?”
Patrick turns to look back at Art smiling, “You know I’m a CEO too right? Working until,” He looks down at the patek phillipe nautilus watch on his wrist, “10pm really isn’t that unfathomable. Where do you think I just came from?”
“Okay well why are you here is a better question?”
“Can’t a guy just visit their favorite irritable blonde post hangover handjob?” He smirks, sitting against Art’s desk. He pulls Art’s desk chair so that Art is sitting between the V of Patrick’s legs.
Art’s heart rate picks up even more which he didn’t think was possible, “What are you doing?” he says barely above a whisper.
“Here’s what I think,” Patrick whispers back, “I think you’re a little tense.” He moves his thumb to smooth out the lines between Art’s brows, “Why don’t you just relax, yeah? Let me take care of you.”
Art doesn’t know how to respond but before he can think of what to say Patrick getting on his knees under Art’s desk. It’s a little comical at first because of how tall Patrick is but he makes it work.
He’s unzipping Art’s fly and pulling down Art’s briefs just enough to pull his half hard cock out. Patrick strokes him a few times to get him to full hardness.
“Patrick we can’t do this here,” Art gasps out.
“It’s not like you’re trying to stop me. Besides, floor is empty,” He says before taking Art into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Art groans, his hands flying to tangle in Patrick’s curls.
Patrick makes quick work, sucking Art’s cock. He swirls his tongue around Art’s tip a few times before sinking down, letting Art hit the back of his throat. He continues sucking, swallowing around Art’s length. He pulls off for a moment, taking Art’s balls into his mouth, while jerking him off simultaneously.
“Ah-Patrick, please,” Art whines, hips bucking into Patrick’s fist.
Patrick smirks pulling away, “Thought you said I couldn’t do this here? Seems like you’re enjoying it.”
Art groans, the grip Patrick has while stroking his dick is perfection, in another state of mind Art would be thinking about how many other people Patrick has done this with before.
Patrick continues, “Yeah? Nothing to say now huh? That’s good, like when you get nice and stupid for me.”
Art feels like he’s going to combust if he doesn’t cum soon.
Patrick goes to stand up, hand still stroking Art’s cock, to lean in and whisper by Art’s ear, “Gonna let me fuck you? Right here on your desk? It’s the only way for you to relax fully…” he trails off.
Art doesn’t even realize he’s nodding in agreement until Patrick is swiftly changing their positions. He has Art bent over the desk, pulling down Art’s slacks and briefs.
“Here, help me out babe.” Patrick says bringing his fingers to Art’s lips. Art gets the message opening his mouth to suck around Patrick’s fingers. His coats them thoroughly before Patrick pulls them out.
“There we go,” Patrick whispers as two of his fingers sink past Art’s rim. Two fingers is alot to take right off the bat which leads Patrick to believe that—“Did you prep yourself?”
“No I— maybe,” It’s hard to focus with Patrick pumping his fingers inside Art. And if by ‘maybe’ Art actually means that he jerked off while fingering himself in the bathroom an hour ago. What? It was late, the bathrooms are singles, and there really was nobody left on the floor.
Thinking about Art getting off, fingering himself nonetheless, in his office? “Fucking hell,” Patrick says under his breath. He’ll ask Art to elaborate later, for now he just needs to fuck him as soon as humanly possible.
Patrick unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants and boxer briefs just enough to pull himself out, “Condoms?”
Art whines at the loss of Patrick’s fingers, “Don’t have any here, ‘s fine ‘m clean.”
“Are you saying you want me to fuck you raw Art Donaldson CEO of Trade Reinsurance? I haven’t even bought you dinner yet.” Patrick teases, dragging his tip across Art’s hole.
Art groans in anticipation and slight annoyance. Patrick being a cocky son of a bitch as always, “Patrick,” he whines, annoyed.
“Okay okay, relax. Said I was gonna take care of you, I meant it.” Patrick assures as he slowly pushes in until he bottoms out.
Patrick pulls out slowly before pushing back in, setting a slower pace with harder thrusts, “Feels good?”
Art nods gripping the desk so hard his knuckles are white.
“That’s good. Just relax and take it. I’ll do all the work yeah?” Patrick grips Art’s hips to continue his pace, “You do so much thinking, all day every day, now you get to stop thinking,” he grunts out in between thrusts.
“Yeah that’s all you should be thinking about,” Patrick smirks, “Just concentrate on how good I’m making you feel. How my dick is stretching you open, fuck you’re so tight.”
Art feels like his brain is melting. The way that Patrick is quite literally stretching him out is more euphoric than he could’ve imagined. Patrick is assaulting his prostate, ramming into it over and over again.
“Fuck, I’ve thought about this for so long. Imagined it so many times. Taking you on your desk. You probably wish this floor wasn’t empty. All your employees seeing their CEO getting fucked stupid. Bet you couldn’t even form a sentence right now if you tried,” Patrick groans.
Stupid Patrick and his stupid fucking ego and his stupid fucking big dick. Art can’t tell if he’s more annoyed or turned on by the fact that Patrick is right.
Art is right on the edge so when Patrick’s hand grips Art’s cock, stroking to match his thrusts, the drag of Patrick’s calloused fingers sends him over the edge, “Fuhhhh…’m coming,” Art’s words slur as pleasure washes over him. It gets all over Patrick’s fist and some even landing on Art’s dress shirt and desk. That was the hardest orgasm he’s had in a while, and his left ear is ringing.
“Yeah? Gonna make a mess of your fucking desk? Holy shit—fuck,” Patrick moans out as his thrusts get faster, his hips start to stutter and finishes inside Art.
Art lays limp against his desk, it’s a little uncomfortable since he’s bent over the top but he swears he could fall asleep right there.
Patrick sighs from exhaustion, pulling out and sitting down at Art’s desk chair behind him. Now this is a fucking sight. Art with his slacks and briefs pulled halfway down his thighs, dress shirt bunched up so his ass is fully exposed. It gives Patrick the perfect view of his own cum leaking out of Art’s hole, running down his inner thighs. Running all the way down to Art’s briefs. Fuck.
If Patrick was 20, he would’ve been hard again so fast.
But he’s not, he’s 33 and as much as he would love to use his cum as lube and fuck Art again, he should probably get them cleaned up instead.
“Should’ve known you weren’t a gentleman. What does a man have to do to get cleaned up? Or you just want to keep letting your mess make a mess of my clothes,” Art sighs from his place leaning over the desk.
Patrick snickers, “Well I wanted to take you dinner first but you asked me oh so nicely to fuck you raw Art Donaldson,” he stands up to pull his pants back up, buckling his belt. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll get you cleaned up. Just tell me where.”
Art gestures to the bottom left drawer of the desk and Patrick pulls out a pack of wipes. After Art’s all cleaned up and put together as much as he can be, Art plops down onto the sofa in the corner of his office with a sigh. Slightly wincing in pain from previous events.
Patrick stays where he’s seated at Art’s desk, “This office is actually really nice—“
Now it’s Art’s turn to cut Patrick off, “What is this Patrick? What are we doing?”
Patrick smirks, locking his eyes on Art, “I think you know what sex is we just—“
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Art is looking down at the floor now, fidgeting with his fingers.
Patrick takes in Art’s body language and his face drops, putting his teasing act aside, “I meant what I said before. I do want to take you to dinner, get to know you properly.”
Art takes a beat, looking up to meet Patrick’s gaze across the room, “And who said I wanted to date you?” Okay now Art was the one doing the teasing.
“Tomorrow night 8pm, I’ll pick you up from here. And wear those gray slacks I like, the ones from last Friday. Your ass looks insane in those.”
Art scoffs, “Okay whatever—“
This time they’re both cut off from the glass door to Art’s office opening. Their eyes snapping over to see who’s intruded on what they thought was an empty floor. It was almost 11:30pm.
It was none other than Tashi.
She leaned against the door frame crossing her arms. Her long white slacks and white dress shirt that looked pristine except for the fact that the top button was unbuttoned and there seemed to be makeup smudges by her collar. Very unlike Tashi.
“And who do we have here?” She asks.
Art tries not to panic saying, “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough to know this isn’t a work meeting. But relax I didn’t see anything, thank god,” She looks over at Patrick then back to Art, “Knew something was different.”
“It’s not what it looks like—“ Art starts
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Patrick interrupts, smirking.
“And how long has this been going on?”
“Since Friday,” They say in unison. Freaky.
“Well technically since Saturday,” Art corrects.
“I don’t know if that makes it better,” She laughs, “but good to know I was right, as always.”
“What are you even still doing here?” Art shoots back.
Patrick chimes in this time, “It’s obvious, she was fucking too.”
Arts eyebrows shoot up at that, taken aback, “Huh?”
“It’s obvious,” he repeats, “look at her face, even if there weren’t makeup smudges on around her collar or the top button of her shirt was still buttoned it’s still written all over her face,” Patrick shrugs, reading her like an open book.
Tashi is stunned but keeps her face neutral. She’s never had someone read her back, she likes being the all knowing omniscient figure. Maybe Patrick Zweig was more than meets the eye.
“No comment,” She says in a cool tone, trying not to let any cracks show.
But Art knows what that means, “Shit you’re right,” Art says to Patrick but keeps his eyes on Tashi.
Art thinks back to the conversation they had this morning about how Tashi and her EA supposedly get into at 7am everyday but he never sees them. It’s like a lightbulb goes off in his head.
“You’re fucking your assistant! That’s why I never see her or you in the morning” He accuses, a hint of shock in his tone.
“That’s actually hilarious,” Patrick chimes in.
“Whatever. How did you even get Art to put his own ego aside enough to make this work?” She gestured vaguely to the two of them.
“My ego?” Art questions. If anyone had an ego it was Patrick, not him.
Patrick starts to tell the story of how they ended up here, “Well—“
“It’s a cute story,” Patrick tries again.
Art groans covering his face with a pillow, “Fine.”
“Art had a wet dream about me, while sleeping at my house,” Patrick finishes, smiling like he’s so proud of himself.
Tashi cocks an eyebrow, “I think some backtracking is needed, how did Art end up at your house?”
“He got really drunk and—“
Art removes the pillow from his face to defend himself, “No, no, I was a reasonable level of tipsy at most and Patrick was the one sending me drinks anyway—“
“And then he quite literally kidnapped me.”
Tashi thinks for a second before asking, “So you want me to believe that you were only tipsy yet somehow allowed yourself to be ‘kidnapped’?”
Art has no rebuttal and lets Patrick continue.
“Yeah and I took him to the guest room, so he could have his own space, and then he asked me to stay. Being the courteous host that I am, I stayed and we fell asleep together. Then I woke up the next morning to Art humping my leg and the rest is history.”
A blush rises to Art’s cheeks, he knew this story was ridiculously embarrassing, “No comment.”
“You’re right that is a cute story,” Tashi says in a way that Art feels is more patronizing than endearing.
“So how did you start fucking your assistant?” Patrick asks.
“And that’s my time. Have a goodnight gentlemen.” She finishes, heading out of Art’s office.
Art wasn’t sure what to expect on their date tonight. He wasn’t sure what to expect in this whole situation thing they were doing to begin with.
Patrick insisted on picking him up to keep the date a mystery. Art wasn’t sure he wanted the few employees left scattered on the floor to see him leaving with Patrick so he just met Patrick in the lobby instead.
Art was shocked to find out Patrick would be driving them today instead of Patrick’s driver. He drove a sleek dark blue maserati and if Art knew more about cars maybe he’d be able to distinguish the model too.
Dinner was at Maison Close. A french restaurant downtown that had amazing drinks and even better food.
“I would say I’m impressed but I can only imagine how many of your conquests you’ve brought here,” Art says as he takes another sip of his drink.
Patrick laughs, “Well unless you’re also counting family, the answer would be zero. I usually go here with my sisters when they’re in town.”
Art isn’t fully convinced but maybe if this thing was going to work, whatever this is, he should start to trust the things Patrick says.
“Well it’s…nice. I’ll give you that.”
“I believe the word you used before was impressed”, Patrick smirks before pulling Art’s chair closer to his. He leans in to whisper by Art’s ear, “Do me a favor, stop acting like you don’t enjoy my company.”
A shiver ran down Art’s spine as Patrick’s lips lightly brushed against his ears. “Well maybe I don’t,” Art says weaker than he would’ve liked.
Patrick lets his hand rest in Art’s inner thigh, next to Art’s growing semi. Fuck his hands are so big. How did Art not notice that before?
“You sure about that?” He whispers, sneaking his hand further up Art’s thigh until he’s pressed up against Art’s erection, “Because it feels like you do. And you wore the pants that I told you to wear. Like a good boy.”
A man with a thick parisian accent pulls them both out of the little bubble they created, “Mr.Zweig! I hope everything has been to your satisfaction tonight?”
Patrick sits back in chair, keeping his hand on Art’s thigh, “It’s been perfect night, just like every night I dine here. Thank you Antoine. Please give my compliments to Chef Edouard.”
The man whose name Art now knows as Antoine does a short nod, “As always. Ms. Zweig won’t be joining you tonight?”
Patrick’s sister. Okay well maybe Art should trust Patrick more.
“Not tonight but please, let me introduce you to Mr.Donaldson. CEO of Trade Reinsurance.”
A series of handshakes and pleasantries are exchanged before Antoine leaves them to enjoy the rest of their dinner.
For the rest of night Art allowed himself to be more open. Engaging in conversation that allowed him to share more about himself and learn more about Patrick. Funnily enough they both used to play tennis when they were younger, all the way until college.
And Patrick kept his hand right where it was.
Patrick and Art had been officially dating for 3 months. Art hasn’t really told anyone, not even Tashi. But he’s sure she knows anyway. Him and Patrick have been hanging out almost every weekend and sometimes on weekdays.
They text and call pretty frequently. As frequently as they can. Art finds himself staying up late at night smiling at his phone screen like a teenager. Until Patrick sends him a dick pic and it becomes a very different type of conversation.
Their jobs as CEO are still super demanding so they don’t get to see each other most weekdays. Especially during quarter open, or quarter closing, so again basically most days. But they’ve been making it work (mainly by Patrick showing up to Art’s office unannounced.) Like today.
He strolls into Art’s office without knocking as always.
“What’re you doing here?” Art sighs, eyes glued to his monitor.
Patrick pouts, tilting his head to the side, “Sorry I thought my boyfriend would be happy to see me. My mistake. How’d you even know it was me? You didn’t even look. And I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
Art just points to the speaker phone in his desk, insinuating that his executive assistant had called Art to let him know Patrick was coming.
“Can you at least look at me? I came all the way over here to see those pretty blue eyes,” Patrick smirks sitting on the edge of Art’s desk.
Art sighs again, clicking his mouse a few times, locking his computer screen as Patrick makes his way over. Then he looks up to meet Patrick’s gaze with his own, “Yes Patrick you now have my full undivided attention for,” He checks his watch, “about 20 minutes.”
Patrick wants to make a comment about how Art should be taking his lunch at this time for at least an hour. Okay maybe 30 minutes. Okay maybe 20 minutes is more accurate. Patrick can’t even remember the last time he took a full hour lunch, maybe when he was an intern.
“I can work with that,” He gestures to Art’s now locked monitor, “Why’d you lock it? Scared I’m going to sell your company secrets?” He teases.
Art stands up so he can be closer to Patrick’s eye level. He shoves his hands in his pockets, “No I know you won’t. Just have something big coming up.”
Patrick pulls Art closer to him by his waist. He keeps his hands there, “Big like what? Bigger than my d—“
Art cuts him off, covering Patrick’s mouth with his hand, “I’m not even gonna let you finish that sentence. Sometimes I swear you act like you’re a 21 year old intern.”
Art can feel the smirk growing across Patrick’s face and under Art’s hand. He pulls Art’s hand away to intertwine with his own, “I mean I didn’t know you were into roleplay. We can make that happen if that’s what you’re into Mr.Donaldson.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, bringing his arms to rest around Patrick’s neck, “No. But if you must know, we’re taking the company public.”
Going public was a big deal. Working with a team of lawyers and analysts to establish an IPO, asses all the current internal stakeholders, current ownership percentages of board members, it was a lengthy process meaning that Art had been working on this way before him and Patrick ever started seeing each other.
“What? That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you,” Patrick smiles, “we should celebrate tonight. C’mon I’ll take you out.”
“I don’t know I think I just wanna stay in? I’m just so tired all the time, working even more ridiculous hours than usual. Just wanna relax.”
Patrick moves his hand to cup the side of Art’s face. Art leaning into his touch. “Then come over tonight, I’ll cook. Let me take care of you.”
On Art’s way out of the building he catches Tashi. She raises an eyebrow, “You’re heading home early. It’s only 7pm.”
“Yeah I-,” He almost slips up and says he’s going to Patrick’s, “Just going to get a quick session in at the gym before I go home.”
She makes an amused face, “Your gym is in your apartment building Art.” So he wouldn’t need to stop at a gym before going home, he would’ve just said he was going home. “It’s fine, go have fun with your man. You guys are cute.”
Art tries to fight off the blush rising to his cheeks as he makes his way out the lobby.
Patrick such cooked an amazing dinner that Art would’ve questioned if he even made it himself if Art didn’t get to witness Patrick cheffing it up in the kitchen. It wasn’t anything crazy, just steak, mashed potatoes and asparagus. And a side of red wine of course. Patrick grilled the steak to perfection (somewhere between medium rare and medium) while Art sat at the kitchen island pouring himself another glass of wine.
They ate at the dining table this time. Easy conversation that seemed to just flow like it was nothing. Everytime they spoke it was like they had been friends for years it was freaky.
Art has never felt more seen or loved, than when he was talking to Patrick. It was the little things he did. Like always making sure Art’s cup was full (whether it was alcohol or water), texting Art everyday at 12 pm religiously to make sure he eats something for lunch, helping Art put on his cufflinks the morning after sleeping over, always knowing what Art’s thinking or feeling at any given moment. That was insane.
After changing into comfy clothes, they started the movie in Patrick’s room. Cuddled up together in bed. Art had started to talk about the IPO again. How nervous he was about it, which Patrick engaged in for a little until he cuts Art off by kissing up his neck, “I think you need a break from work. From thinking. Think you can be good for me?”
Art nods biting his lip. This was another thing. Patrick always knowing what he needed. Being able to to tell when Art was stressed out, anxious, overthinking, or overwhelmed with work. Art thought he hid it pretty well but Patrick can always tell.
And it wasn’t always sex. Sometimes it was just being in each other’s company, not having to make decisions. Anything that wasn’t work related, because work took up so much of their time.
But most times it was sex. Only because it was the only thing that Patrick could guarantee would keep Art focused on him and only him. And Patrick definitely was not mad at that.
Patrick snakes his hand into Art’s briefs, stroking him to full hardness, “How about you fuck my mouth? Think you can do that for me baby?”
Art involuntarily fucks into Patrick’s hand while nodding, his body’s response to Patrick’s words.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Patrick smirks. He makes his way down Art’s body. Watching how Art’s abs contract once Patrick takes him into his mouth.
Patrick loved when Art got like this. Just pliant and perfect. Ready to please. To be good. Not a single other thought in his brain. Only Patrick, Patrick, Patrick. Moaning and whining and whimpering. It drove Patrick insane.
Art’s hands find their way to Patrick’s curls. Pulling just the right amount to ellcit a moan from Patrick that vibrates around Art’s length.
He starts slow. Slow thrusts, giving Patrick a chance to adjust. But he quickly lets the pleasure take over. His thrusts picking up speed, consistently hitting the back of Patrick’s throat. It’s sloppy. All the spit in Patrick’s mouth collecting at the base of Art’s cock. Drooling out the sides of his mouth. The squelching and occasionally gagging noises are obscene, only driving Art further towards release.
He opens his eyes to look down at the brunet taking him so well. Fuck. Patrick’s lips stretched around the girth of his dick. He looks like a slut.
“You look like a—fuck—like a slut,” Art groans, keeping his pace.
Patrick pulls off, replacing his hand where his mouth once was. The spit causing an easy glide as he jerks Art off, “Yeah? You like that? Keep talking,” wrapping his lips around Art’s tip to sink back down.
Patrick’s voice is already wrecked, raspy and hoarse. Art squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep his orgasm at bay, “Love your mouth. Your throat fuck. Think about it all the time. Think about you all the time.”
Patrick pulls off again to say, “Think about me how? Said you were gonna be good, so tell me everything. Wanna know all your dirty thoughts baby. Don’t hold back,” before going back to it.
Art pulls Patrick’s hair harder, before fucking his throat relentlessly, “You’re such a fucking cockslut fuck. Always coming to my office on lunch. Sucking my dick at my desk, shit. Sending me fucking nudes when you know I’m working,” he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Pulling Patrick up by his hair to look at him. Curls messy, eyes glazed over, tears threatening to escape, lips slick with spit. A fucking vision. Art smears his tip against Patrick’s lips a few times before guiding his cock back down Patrick’s throat.
Keep his grip in Patrick’s hair, and his brutal pace fucking in Patrick’s throat as his orgasm approaches.
“Your lips are so fucking perfect. Wrapped around my cock. Fuck you’re so fucking—. Want you to ride me at my desk next time. Shit. Want that so fucking bad. Want everyone to hear you, taking my cock so well. Wanna cum deep inside you ah. Think about it all the time. Think about you all the time. Dirty fucking whore. Such a slut for my cock. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” Art whines out towards the end. Burying himself deep in Patrick’s throat to make sure he gets every last drop.
After Patrick swallows and pulls off, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, “How was that?” he smiles.
Art nods from his place on the bed, exhausted, “Good. Really good. Thank you.”
“You never have to thank me for that. Hands down one of my favorite ways to take care of you. It was fun with you doing all the talking. Hot.” Patrick smirks before moving back up to lay next to Art.
Art rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm around Patrick’s waist to pull him closer, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
thank you for making it this far :)
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