Alasdair closed his office door behind them and gave Cosmo a moment to put down his guitar and shuck off his jacket. He glanced up at the clock. Five minutes before the senior cleaning team managers would be up here to discuss proposed uniform changes with him. Right. Not much time.
“Over here and pull up your T-shirt,” he ordered, as he flipped open his briefcase.
“Huh?” Cosmo walked over. “I thought you had a meeting.”
“I do. And I don’t see you pulling up your T-shirt.”
Cosmo gave him a wary look, but hoiked up the skin-tight fabric that declared him to be a “Manhole Inspector”. It was a good thing Alasdair’s staff had already met Cosmo at the summer and Christmas parties. He figured they were probably immune to the lad’s shock value by now.
Alasdair pulled out the tiny clamps from his jacket pocket.
Alasdair pinched Cosmo’s nipples so they pebbled up, then one by one, pulled them through the clamp jaws and tightened the delicate screws on each side. They went behind the barbells Cosmo now wore through both nipples, pushing them forward in a provocative way. He normally only made Cosmo wear clamps during sex, but he figured they could be useful today.
“Ow!” Cosmo’s breath came faster for a moment, but then settled back into something deeper. Alasdair pulled his top back down again and studied the way it pulled over Cosmo’s chest. You wouldn’t even know the clamps were there. Not unless you really knew what you were looking for.
Cosmo’s eyelids fluttered and Alasdair could see a distinct bulge in his jeans. “Naughty boy. What have I told you about badly behaved pricks?”
“That they won’t get any attention from you?”
“Sorry, boss. You just look really fucking hot in your suit.”
“Not a good enough excuse.” Although it was always good for the ego to hear that from a man in his twenties.
Cosmo squeezed his eyes shut and his lips began moving fast. Reciting his lyrics, probably. He generally did that when he wanted to distract his mind away from his body’s reactions. This was good, though. Between fighting off his arousal and the sensation of the clamps, Cosmo wouldn’t have time to think about cigarettes. Oh, and Alasdair had other distractions planned too.