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The kid was just too easy.
Sid knew it from the moment he blurted out the name of the first bill that Sid ever drafted, complete with filing number and date. He’d looked too big in his off-the-rack suit jacket, shoulders hunched and hunted. There was still some early-twenties chub hanging off his cheeks, young and naive and too tempting for Sid. He hadn’t been able to look at Sid when he’d said it, stop-sign-red in the face. His eyes had flickered up afterwards, into the surprised silence, and Sid took a moment to appreciate the icy blue of them before he’d said, “MacKinnon, is it?”
MacKinnon had blushed deeper. “Yes, sir, uh. MacKinnon. I’m Nate. Nathan. Nate MacKinnon”
Christ. Sid almost wanted to tell the kid to get a grip, not give himself away so much. Who went into politics with half as much earnestness? But he couldn’t deny that the obvious hero worship made his gut tighten a little bit. Selfishly, he knew he’d let the kid bumble around just as he was. It would make it so much sweeter when he finally got him around his dick.
It took exactly as long as Sid predicted. Not too hard to do when the kid’s every thought was plastered clear across his face. It was charming, in a way; Sid hadn’t met anyone so earnest almost since he got into politics. A personally requested errand here, a touch on the shoulder there. Thanks for completed tasks murmured out in too low a voice, eye contact held a second too long to be casual. Sid had always liked drawing out the hunt. And it was all the more delicious when his prey made it so easy.
In the end, Sid was competitive enough to want to work for it, but spoiled enough that he wanted to bask in the kid’s attention. It got him off like nothing else, when he finally got his dick inside the kid, barely enough lube, and Nate tilted his hips back for more, spread his legs. Too eager to please. He was braced on Sid’s desk, and Sid had barely had to get up from his chair, both their pants just pulled down enough for Sid to get at his hole. He made these noises he kept trying to throttle in his throat, that came out just a hair too loud anyway. If there was anyone else working late in the building and they passed by the door to Sid’s office, they’d know, and there was a thrill in it that made Sid push in a hair too fast, forcing a little moan out of Nate’s throat.
“Good job,” he praised, feeling Nate’s hole go molten around his cock in response. “You can take it for me, can’t you?”
Nate nodded vigorously, let out a small uh-huh, flushed all up the back of his throat. It made Sid want to fuck him rough, make him loud, until some innocent staffer caught them, scandalized. Sid could imagine how embarrassed the kid would feel, too aware of being some overeager little intern caught on Senator Crosby’s dick, how the staffer would scurry away, flustered, how Sid would keep going, maybe pinning Nate down and whispering all about how everyone would know about it. Sid could picture it so clearly, Nate starting to squirm on his dick with caught-out shame, but keeping his legs spread for Sid to nut in like a good little slut.
Next time, he’d stay sitting, make Nate fuck himself on it until Sid came inside. Maybe he’d make himself come on it, and Sid could make him keep going until he was shaking with it, overstimulated and tearful, and he’d still be so good for Sid, would want to please him, make him come, and Sid would just pull his pants back up after, make him walk around leaking Sid’s come for the rest of the day—
They had time. Sid had a lot planned.