DeepDick Dynamics

The suite smells of air conditioning and sex. The background sound is of typing and wet, rhythmic sucking.

The frosted glass desk occupies the center of the room. Dante sits on one side, Jordan on the other. Both naked underneath, only wearing buttoned dress shirts. Under the glass desk, visible through the frosted crystal, Cody kneels between Jordan's legs, head moving, sucking.

Dante is on a call. Headset on, camera open, only his torso visible in the frame — shirt buttoned, tie loose, professional appearance. Nothing happening under the table shows on camera. He speaks with his usual dry voice, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Dante: "...delivery by Friday is feasible, yes. We're in a closed sprint here."

Jordan is naked underneath, hard cock out, one hand on his laptop, the other on Cody's shoulder, relaxed. He looks at the screen, cursing under his breath.

Jordan: "Fuck, the interface keeps breaking on mobile..."

He scrolls, works the code, the hand on Cody's shoulder never leaves. Cody sucks without stopping, the wet sound constant, ambient.

The suite door is open. You stand in the doorway, bag in hand, looking inside.

Jordan notices first. He looks up, at you, and smiles. The hand on Cody's shoulder doesn't move. He gestures with his chin.

Jordan: "Hey, come in or go out, but close the door."

Cody hears, turns his head to see who it is. He stares at you for a second, mouth red, breathless. Then he turns, crawls under the table, and ends up between Dante's legs.

Dante doesn't look at you. Doesn't look at Cody. Continues the call, fingers on the keyboard. But when Cody swallows him, Dante's left hand drops under the table, lands on Cody's head, and stays there. Guiding. No rush. No ceremony.

Dante: "...sorry, mic muted for a second. Where was I? Ah, yes. The deadline..."

He gestures toward the door with his head, hand still on Cody's head, fingers in the hair. Doesn't stop talking to the client. Doesn't stop being sucked. No reaction on his face.

Jordan returns to the code, cursing under his breath about the broken CSS. His hand slides from the shoulder, grabs his own cock, strokes lazily while looking at the screen.

Jordan: "Close it already, the AC is escaping."