"Don't you get it!? I'm doomed, Ember! My life is fucking over!"

"C'mon, it can't possibly be that bad. Just tell your boss it was a mistaken text?"

Spike, who was currently resting his forehead against his steering wheel, let out a whine of sheer distress. "Even if it's mistaken, I still sent my boss my fucking nudes, Em! I'm fucking good as fired! I may as well just ask the receptionist for my pink slip when I walk in!"

The girl on the other end sighed. "Dunno what to tell you Spikey...least you can do is be professional? As long as he knows it was a sincere mistake, even if he fires you, you might get a decent recommendation later?

Oh yeah, sure. Spike could practically fucking see it. 'Oh, Mr. Sparkle? He's a decent worker. Makes a good macchiato. Has a star birthmark on his inner thigh and has okay taste in lingerie.'

"I'll...I'll come by later, Ember. Make sure you've got some ice cream."

You know it baby. Take care, alright Spikey?

The boy clicked off the car phone, and leaned back in his seat.

Okay, so, best case scenario: Mr. Noir didn't even see the message. He might have an auto delete set up on non-important texts, and he was pretty sure that as a personal assistant, he didn't qualify. They communicated solely over phone call or through email. Sombra hadn't even noticed his scandalous photos, and he was worrying about nothing.

Worst case scenario: He now had a case with HR for sexual harrassment in the works against him, and would never work again anywhere in this city...hell, anywhere in the country. His family would disown him for being a complete pervert, and he would end up penniless and destitute.

'Strangely enough, the worst case scenario was way more implausible...'

Oh gods, it was almost time to clock in.

Gritting his teeth, Spike scooped up his briefcase, turned his car off, and stepped out.

He was sincerely hoping for the best case scenario.

"Yes, Mr. Noir wants you to report to his office ASAP. He said it's a matter of the utmost urgency."

Well fuck.

Spike forced a nervous smile onto his face. "Oh, r-r-really? That's...that's great! I-I've been meaning to speak with him too, s-so that works out!"

Gods he hoped he sounded more confident than he felt, because how he felt was on the verge of a goddamned panic attack.

Denise raised an eyebrow, before returning to her computer work. "I'd hurry up if I were you. Whatever you're in trouble for, the reprimanding you're going to get will be even worse if you're late."

'Gee, thanks Denise.'

"R-Right! Right, of course, s-silly me—"

The deflated boy made his way to the elevator, calling one and stepping on as if his loafers were crafted from solid lead.

How was he going to even handle this? How was he going to explain this? He was up shit creek without a paddle...or even a fucking boat.

The climb up to his boss' floor was torture, and Spike half wished that the thing would catastrophically fail and crash down the shaft, turning him into finely minced hamburger meat upon impact. But nonetheless, his desperate wish was not made reality. The telltale 'ding!' of the elevator sounded out, signifying his arrival at his destination.

Spike's time was up.

He stepped out of the elevator with a tremble in his step, feeling vaguely lightheaded as he left it behind.

This was it. He had approached his doom.

Sombra took an agonizingly long time to tell the boy to enter. Spike could've sworn his fucking heart would stop beating as the seconds wore on, until at last.

"You may enter, Mr. Sparkle."

Taking a moment to bid a sorrowful farewell to his career, Spike took in a soft breath, grabbed ahold of the brass doorknob, and turned it.

The creak that sounded out after his entrance made Spike cringe like nothing else.

"Close the door behind you."

Spike nearly jumped at the sound of Sombra's voice. Fuck it sounded so much scarier all of a sudden, probably because Mr. Noir was going to eat him alive—

"Of...O-Of course, Nr. Noir." He managed to stammer, closing said door with shaky hands and fidgety fingers.

"...I'd appreciate being looked at if we're going to speak, Mr. Sparkle."

Spike's soul felt as if it would mist out through his nose and exit his body, before the boy slowly turned around to face his likely furious boss.

"Y-Yes...you wanted to speak with me, sir?"

"I did. Please. Have a seat."

Oh, he was so fired. So fired he could practically taste the fucking ink on his pink slip.

Spike stepped towards the chair lined up in front of Sombra's desk, and gingerly sat down, as if the chair was some sort of torture implement.

Sombra seemed to be all business, as he opened up a medium sized armoire near his desk.

"Did you have a safe trip here, Mr. Sparkle?"

Fuck's sake, was the man seriously trying to make small talk when he was moment's away from permanently fucking Spike's chances of being anybody in this city!?

"U-Uh, fine...? D-Decent weather, n-nice traffic..." Fuck, wait, that was backwards—

Sombra hummed noncommittally, and Spike heard the sound of a cork popping off, and the distinct glug of bottled liquor.

"Very nice...now...onto business. You do know why I called you into my office, correct...?"

This was it. The end. The grand fucking finale of his career.

He shrunk down in his chair as if he could meld with the pleather seat cusion.

B-Because...B-Because I accidentally sent you...c-compromising photos of myself?" He murmured, face hot with shame and humiliation.

The sound of pouring liquid froze, and so did Sombra...then after a few seconds, he managed to utter one simple word:

"Accidentally...?"

Spike's head snapped up so hard he nearly got whiplash.

"S-Sir...I...yes. Those were accidental. I-I didn't mean to, really. Your contact was just very close to my friend's and I-I—"

Wait.

The confusion in Sombra's voice, liquor being poured...the fact that he wasn't even being reprimanded...

The assistant began processing. Slowly, of course. As to not fry his fucking brain.

"Mr...Mr. Noir...? Were...were you...assuming I sent them on purpose...?"

The other man was stock still, holding the bottle of red wine in a death grip.

Spike decided to be brave, and stood to his feet, then carefully walked over to his boss. Just enough to see what he was doing, and—

Holy shit. No fucking way.

"Sir? Were you...pouring us both a glass of wine? Were you about t-to...about to proposition me?"

Finally, Sombra reacted, bringing himself from his daze to set the bottle down and then look over his shoulder at the shorter man.

"To be fair, I assumed you were propositioning me."

Spike's brow furrowed. "So...so you were what...? Reciprocating? Isn't that against company policy?"

Sombra's expression soured and he made his way over to his desk with a soft chuckle. "I am the CEO of this company, Mr. Sparkle. 'Company policy' is whatever I wish for it to be, as long as it is within the bonds of federal legality. And there is nothing illegal about indulging a pretty boy like yourself."

Spike could feel his neurons frying as they spoke. Pretty boy!? Sombra was still trying to flirt!? He was actually interested!?

"I-I...don't think that's a good idea, sir. Fraternization can lead to troubles in the office—"

"I'm not going to be giving you preferential treatment, if that is what you're referring to. Our relationship during business hours would remain the same. But off of those hours..." He leaned forward, blood red gaze smoldering. "I would be glad to indulge in you, Spike."

Oh fuck, why did the way his first name was said by Sombra sound so hot!?

"S-Sir, I..." Spike swallowed thickly, making his way back to his chair before he flat out collapsed or fainted. "S-So, what sort of relationship are you even suggesting...? Is this a sugar baby thing? Friends with benefits? D-Do you actually want to date me?"

"Mm...a bit of column A and column C, dear boy. I'd be willing to give you extra funds on the side if you need them. And friends with benefits doesn't have nearly enough exclusivity for me. I want you to be mine alone."

A shudder passed down Spike's back and his face felt torrid. His alone? This was starting to sound like some trashy, bargain bin smut novel.

"Yours...alone. I...wow, okay..."

The boy rubbed his temples and looked blown away, leaning back in his seat. "You...aren't gonna fire me if I say no, right?"

Sombra almost looked insulted, hand raising to his chest and eyes narrowing. "What? Of course not. Do I seem like the type of man to blackmail someone into my bedroom? Or even a man that would need to? Hardly. If you say no, I'll leave the matter here, and you may return to your work as per usual."

Spike shuffled softly. "I...I see..."

He then looked at his shoes, flustered. His attractive, affluent boss not only saw his nudes, but now the older man wanted him to be his little boyfriend. It was like a damn fantasy, and he felt as if he was seconds from waking up.

"...is there a catch that I'm not being told Mr. Noir?"

Sombra cocked his head, then hummed. "I would have disclosed it with you regardless, but yes. I should make you aware that my sexual proclivities are...less than vanilla. If kink bothers you, we cannot make this work."

Oh damn.

Taking a moment to process, Spike responded. "I-I...kink...? I-I know the term, of course ...but you should be more specific. When you say kink, do you mean...like, BDSM...or something fucking weird."

"The former...I can lay out my hard and soft limits for you later, if you accept my proposal."

Spike shivered. He was actually talking about entering a BDSM relationship with his boss.

And...and he was...conflicted.

"I...need time to think about this, sir. It's...quite a bit to unpack."

Sombra frowned, before nodding. "O-Of course. This isn't a commitment to jump into willy nilly. Could I at least have your answer by this time next week...?"

A whole week to decide. It somehow felt like a generous deadline and yet...didn't.

"...okay. Sure, sure, I-I can work with that. I just need...processing time."

"I understand. Now..."

He moved back over to his armoire (which apparently doubled as a wine cabinet), and picked up one of the glasses of wine he had poured prior.

"I'm sure you could use some to make you less high strung. Here."

He walked around his desk and handed Spike the glass, the boy's eyes wide.

"I...isn't drinking on the job against—"

The deadpan stare he received made him shut up and swirl his glass, before lightly sipping, a million thoughts racing through his mind.

Thankfully, he at least had a week to figure things out.

Author's Note

I'm not even gonna pretend I know why this took forever, because I just dont, lmao. Hope you enjoyed, and hopefully next chapter comes much swifter.