Glass Slipper [MxM] | 18+

01

01: incipience

"CAN I HELP YOU?"

One small question. Said with such a cold demeanor.

Conrad Miller looked up from the paperwork in front of him, glancing at his current Personal Protection Officer before he went back to reading the document in front of him.

New housing plans for the nuclear plant workers. He sighed, running a hand down his face. The initiative was great. It always was when it came from Shiloh O'Neal, one of his closest friends. It was convincing Varjot that made him stress. If he could, he would laugh at his predicament. A head of state worrying what the underworld bullies would say about a plan that would help thousands.

"Your new PPO would be arriving tonight, Mr President."

Aaron Tibbet was the third PPO Conrad had in the two years of his presidency. He was the best. Of course anyone who was employed by the V-C-III is. That's why Conrad was unsure if he was doing the right thing by letting him go to take in someone who he had no idea would be like.

At least, not anymore.

"I have already been debriefed."

Conrad closed the document after signing the bottom of the page and leaving it on the left side of his desk. It would be taken by his Chief of Staff tomorrow morning and given to the Press Secretary. It was better to get the news out to the public. Granted, he'd suffer from this decision as some people wanted to know his every move before he went public. However, he couldn't take a chance this time. If Varjot saw fault in the housing plan – in that it would affect their job negatively – they would put an immediate stop to it.

And since Varjot was bigger than the fucking president and military combined, Conrad did not want to take any chances. He'd dealt with them before and this time would be no different. Their own puppet was the head of state. They would hurt him, yes, but he would not be killed like all the others before him and his father.

Conrad got into the private elevator, leaning against the wall as security surrounded him. He realised he'd ignored Aaron but when Varjot fucking him up came to mind, other matters seemed significantly unimportant. Plus, he already knew what his PPO wanted.

A small smirk came to his lips as he looked sideways, feeling eyes on him already. He hadn't left his home even after the presidential election. There rarely was a threat with Varjot and V-C-III guards surrounding every nook and cranny of the estate. And the masochistic side of him needed to live in his personal hell to feel alive.

He was so lost in thoughts that when Aaron came up behind him in the ensuite washroom, he momentarily felt a surge of panic before he looked up in the mirror. And suddenly it was all calm.

"I can always make time for you even when I'm gone," the man behind him murmured, unbuttoning his crisp white dress shirt as he kissed along his neck, making sure not to leave any marks.

At least not where they would be seen.

Conrad looked at him blankly in the mirror as he took off his shirt, leaving it on the counter. "We can shower later. Let's make the most of tonight, Mr President."

Sweat, seamen, and blood coated the white sheets of his king-sized bed within an hour of their rough play. And through all that, Conrad never made a sound. He was used to the pain now... hell, he craved it. His back throbbed as Aaron planted an open mouth kiss just where he'd given him a thorough lashing a few minutes ago.

"You're not going to scream? Even on our last night?" He whispered, pausing his brutal thrusts to yank back the compliant body that was slumped in front of him.