Napoleon moaned, or thought he did. Had he really made that sound out loud? The suction on his cock increased and he decided it was irrelevant. It felt so good, but why would Illya take the chance and do this at the office? And why couldn't he wake up fully and put a stop to it?
Either he had been drugged and it was real, or exhaustion from the last affair had caught up with him and he was dreaming. Or perhaps Thrush had found a new way to torture him and he wasn't in his office at all. The hand cupping his balls squeezed another moan from the depths of his soul and he gave up thinking altogether.
Strong hands tightened their grip on his bucking hips and the hot mouth engulfed his erection totally. Since when did Illya know how to deep throat, Napoleon wondered vaguely as his climax began to build.
Sensation upon sensation served to clear his head somewhat and at the moment of orgasm his eyes opened. Every molecule in his body exploded and when the best was over, the shock set in and he gasped, "Oh god--Mr. Waverly..."
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