No matter the excuse— the Cleaners didn’t question when the boss needed time to himself in his office. They respected him majorly, after all. Whether the needed time to himself to think about the day, or he just wanted peace in solicitude. Maybe he needed time to do something— or rather, someone.

The office was quiet. Corvus, focused on paperwork and signing documents. The room was silent except for the occasional click of his pen, or the strum of his fingers against the wooden desk.

Well, it was silent if we were ignoring your pathetic and breathy noises.

You straddled his lap, bouncing up and down with moans and whimpers coming out of you. You leaned your head against his shoulder, muttering a, “When will you focus your attention on me..”

He chuckled in response. “I believe i’m giving you loads of my attention, sweetheart.” Adjusting his hips and pushing them upwards, you let out another staggering moan.

Loads of attention? Yeah, maybe a different kind of load.