Colleagues To Domination – Part 5

Office Control Snaps: Arslan Takes Rohan Home

Read from PART 1 here. 

The office felt different that day.

Not dramatic. Just… charged.

Rohan reached his desk at 9:40. Arslan was already there, sleeves rolled up, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear while he typed. When he saw Rohan he simply nodded once, the same way he always did, and went back to the call. For a second Rohan wondered if last night had been a dream.

Then Arslan ended the call, leaned back in his chair, and stretched. His shirt pulled tight across his chest. He looked at Rohan properly this time.

“Late aa gaya. Jaldi to nikla tha mere yaha se”

“Traffic,” Rohan answered, sitting down. His voice came out normal. Almost.
Arslan’s mouth twitched. “Hmm. Chai leni hai?”
“Haan.”

Instead of calling the boy, Arslan stood up and went to the pantry himself. When he came back he placed the cup on Rohan’s side of the table, closer than necessary. Their fingers brushed when Rohan took it. Neither pulled away immediately.

The morning passed in small, ordinary things that somehow didn’t feel ordinary anymore. Arslan asked for a file and stood behind Rohan’s chair longer than needed while reading it. Once his hand rested on the back of Rohan’s neck for three full seconds while pointing at something on the screen. When Rohan glanced up, Arslan’s face was unreadable.

“Yeh number galat hai,” he said quietly. Only Rohan could hear the extra weight in his voice.

Around 1:30 the team went for lunch. Arslan and Rohan ended up walking side by side. The corridor was crowded. Arslan’s shoulder kept brushing his. At the lift he let everyone else enter first, then placed his hand on the small of Rohan’s back and guided him in. The touch lasted only a moment, but Rohan’s skin burned under the shirt.

Inside the lift Arslan spoke casually, loud enough for others to hear.

“Kal jo dispatch pending tha, aaj clear karna hai. Shaam tak rukna padega.”

Rohan nodded. “Theek hai.”

Arslan’s eyes flicked to him. A private look. “Mere saath.”

The words were simple. The meaning wasn’t.

By 6:45 the office had emptied. Only the two of them left in the cabin. Fluorescent lights hummed. Outside, the sky was already dark with fresh rain clouds.
Arslan shut his laptop, leaned back, and looked at Rohan for a long time.
“Bag pack kar. Chal.”
“Kahan?”
“Ghar.”

No explanation. Rohan didn’t ask for one. He packed his bag in silence. His hands were not completely steady.

The bike ride was quiet. Rohan’s chest stayed pressed to Arslan’s back the entire way. This time his hands sat lower on Arslan’s waist from the beginning. Arslan didn’t comment. He just rode.

Inside the flat Arslan locked the door, dropped his keys, and turned.

For a moment they just stood looking at each other. Then Arslan stepped forward, cupped Rohan’s face with both hands, and kissed him. Slow at first. Then deeper. The kind of kiss that already knew it owned the mouth it was claiming.
When he pulled back, his voice was low.

“Aaj office mein kitna control kiya maine. Dekha?”

Rohan’s throat worked. “Haan.”

“Ab control nahi karunga.”

He walked Rohan backward into the bedroom, still kissing him, already pulling at his shirt. Clothes came off in pieces. Shirt first. Then belt. Trousers pushed down. By the time the back of Rohan’s knees hit the bed he was in only his underwear, hard and leaking against the fabric.

Arslan stripped himself slower. Let Rohan watch. Broad chest, thick arms, the heavy cock already half-hard inside his briefs. When he finally pushed them down, the thick length sprang free, darker and fuller than Rohan remembered.

“Pet ke bal let ja.”

Rohan turned and lay on his stomach. The bedsheet felt cool against his flushed skin. He heard Arslan open the small drawer. The soft click of a bottle.

Then large hands spread him open.

Arslan didn’t start with fingers. He started with his mouth.

The first long, wet lick from the back of Rohan’s balls all the way up his cleft made Rohan’s whole body jolt. Arslan did it again, slower, pressing his tongue flat and dragging it over the tight hole. He ate him with the same focused hunger as before, but deeper this time. Tongue pushing inside, lips sealing around the rim, wet sounds filling the room.

Rohan’s hands fisted the sheet. His hips kept trying to push back. Soft, broken sounds kept leaving his throat.

“fuck bitch,” Arslan murmured against him. “Office mein itna shareef ban ke baitha tha. Ab dekh.”

He pulled back just long enough to pour lube. One thick finger circled the hole, then pressed inside slowly. Rohan’s breath caught. The finger slid deeper, curling, searching. When it found the spot, Rohan’s back arched hard.

“Yahan?” Arslan asked, voice calm. He pressed again.

Rohan could only nod into the pillow.

A second finger joined. The stretch burned sweetly. Arslan worked him open with patient, ruthless precision, scissoring, curling, rubbing that spot again and again while his other hand held Rohan’s hip down so he couldn’t escape the sensation.

“Hath mat lagaana apne lulli ko,” Arslan ordered quietly.

Rohan’s cock was trapped under him, hard and dripping onto the sheet, completely untouched. Every time Arslan’s fingers dragged over that place inside him, sparks shot up his spine. His thighs started shaking.

Arslan leaned down again and put his mouth back on him while his fingers kept moving. Tongue and fingers together. Wet. Deep. Relentless.

Rohan was making noises he didn’t know he could make. High, helpless, almost sobbing. The dual sensation was too much. His hole clenched around Arslan’s fingers. His cock throbbed against the mattress without any direct touch.

“Arslan… main… nikalne wala…”

“Nikal,” Arslan said against his skin, voice rough and absolute. “Hath nahi lagana bhosadike”

The command broke something open inside Rohan.

His orgasm hit hard and sudden. His whole body locked. Hole spasming tightly around the fingers buried inside him. Thick ropes of cum shot out onto the bedsheet under his stomach, untouched, let out only by the relentless pressure on his prostate and the wet heat of Arslan’s mouth. He cried out into the pillow, thighs trembling violently, completely overwhelmed.

Arslan worked him through it, slowing the fingers but not removing them, licking softly until the last tremor passed. Only then did he ease his fingers out.

Rohan lay there wrecked, breathing in shattered gasps, hole twitching, the sheet under him wet with his own release.

Arslan moved up, turned him onto his back, and looked down at him. His own cock was fully hard, dark, leaking at the tip. But he didn’t push it forward.

He just brushed Rohan’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. The touch was unexpectedly gentle.
“Dekha,” he said quietly. “Haath lagaye bina nikal diya. mere lie hi tu bana h sale.”

Rohan could only stare up at him, eyes glassy, still floating.

Arslan leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep, letting him taste himself. Then he settled beside him, pulled Rohan’s trembling body against his chest, and wrapped one heavy arm around him.

His hard cock rested against Rohan’s hip, ignored for now.

“Aaram kar,” Arslan murmured into his hair. “Abhi aur baki hai. Lekin pehle saans le le.”

Outside the rain had started again. Soft. Steady.

Inside, Rohan closed his eyes, face pressed to Arslan’s chest, still twitching with aftershocks, and realised he had never felt more owned in his life.

To be continued in the next and final part…