JUSTIN’S POV

“See, here’s the thing,” Brian told you, though admittedly you weren’t at all prepared for the information he was about to bestow on you, “This room is outfitted with a state-of-the-art surveillance system; you know, one of those where you can log in remotely and see what’s going on anytime you want?” Your mouth started to feel like the Sahara desert again. “So, on Monday, I’m in my office having a hard time concentrating because I can’t stop thinking about driving home and putting you across my lap, and it gets so bad, that I decide to break my own rule, and log in to the system just to stare at the bed and imagine you laying on the black sheets on your stomach just dying for me to walk in to warm you up. Imagine my surprise when I don’t have to imagine it—"

“I’m sorry,” you immediately apologized, and he ignored you.

“Because there you are on your hands and knees with your pretty little ass pointed right at my camera, and you’re jerking off with your eyes closed.”

“Brian, please. I mean it.” Again, he ignored you.

“So then I see you break the seal on a little container you have stashed underneath you, and I watch you watch yourself coming into it. My lunch break went a little longer than usual that day.” You immediately scooted back from him a little and started staring at the floor, horrified when you realized your cock had been dripping the entire time. It left a trail on the floor, one you hid by closing your knees back together.

“Stand up, Jusitn.”

“You’re mad at me,” you protested, staying where you were.

“Stand up, Justin.” You hurried to your feet and kept your head hanging, afraid to make eye contact with him. “Stop acting afraid of me,” he ordered you, so you looked at him, so he could see that, well, you sort of…were.

BRIAN’S POV

This was all part of the plan; you wanted him to be a little on edge, and he was so on edge, that he got a little upset when you kissed him and told you (with a vulnerability in his voice that you hadn’t heard in a long time) to please stop. “No,” you told him, “I’ll kiss you whenever I want to kiss you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“You just don’t want to feel any ebb and flow in the shame coursing through your veins, but I do. That’s exactly what I want you to feel.”

“Please just be mad at me or don’t be mad at me. Just pick one.”

“Justin, you don’t give orders down here. I do. I decide how you feel, how much you feel, and when you feel it, and don’t stand there like a fucking statue when I’m kissing you and act like this is news to you.”

“I hate you—“

You slapped him across the face.  Hard.

It caught him completely off guard.