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Al Frigori didn't hire a secretary to sit in front of his office. He said that most bosses didn't actually need one, and he thought hiring somebody purely for the sake of appearances was a tacky thing to do. However, the building was laid out in such a way that his front office had a room in front of it, where a secretary would have otherwise sat. Accordingly, he had apparently decided to fill the room with a different kind of tacky.

The carpets and the paint were all dark, earthy tones, patterned to give the space the feeling of hewn stone. The walls were decorated with various medieval instruments of death. Swords, maces, a cardboard cutout of an iron maiden (because he couldn't fit a real one in the elevator). It gave the room a macabre sort of vibe. The rabbit, who stepped out of the elevator and into the antechamber, knew what the effect was supposed to be. It was supposed to give the impression that one had left the office, and was about to enter an old Middle Ages dragon's lair.

He also neglected to put in seating. After all, as Frigori often said "if you're coming up here, it's either because I called you, you're here to bug me, or you're a client. In all three of those cases, there's no point waiting; I want to get you dealt with as soon as possible."

Roger was the first of those three options. He took a moment to pause, to check that his dress shirt and slacks were in order. The room he was in was designed to discourage this kind of waiting around, but Roger was only intimidated by the sight of a dangling morning-star once. More importantly, he had a pretty good idea of why he was being called in. He wouldn't face the dragon. Not until he was perfectly ready for it. After double-checking, making sure everything was in order, he approached the door to Al's office, raising his fist to knock.

"Enter!" A voice called, before he could bring his knuckles down on the wood. Roger took a breath, then opened the door.

Al's office was ever so slightly less antagonistic than the antechamber. Whereas the first room went for the more immediate threat of physical harm, the office was more a projection of raw power. Trophies and corporate awards took up a large portion of walls and shelf space, as well as large, framed photographs of Al in various exotic locations. One depicted him atop a mountain, another showed him at a gun range, and yet another showed him at a charity event, handing a cartoonishly over-sized check to an organization whose mission statement Al could not, for the life of him, remember a week after the fact. His desk was, by the standard of CEO desks, exceptionally large. Allegedly, it needed to be built on site, by a master craftsman, and was built strong enough to withstand grenade blasts. Nobody really knew why Al insisted on the grenade part of the description. They just know it was a common talking point at company parties.

Al, himself, sat behind the desk. Roger made a mental note that the dragon's suit was fitting him tighter, than when the rabbit saw him last. It seemed that Al's campaign to bulk out was paying quiet dividends. Quietly, he approached the desk and extended his hand. "Mister Frigori? Roger Black. I was told you wanted to speak with me."

"Damn straight, I did." Al smiled, with all his polished fangs, as he clasped the rabbit's soft hand in his own and shook, forcefully. "You've been something of a myth around here, and I thought it was high time I confirmed your existence."

Roger returned his boss's grip with his own. "Should I be concerned, to hear that?"

Al chuckled, pulling his hand back and using it to indicate one of the soft chairs in front of his desk. "I've read your project list, Black. Your team has been taking on contracts for the company at a frankly staggering pace. If half the teams in this building worked as well as you and yours do, we'd have Walcomm brushing up against our ring-pieces in the markets, instead of needing to be content, perving at theirs from an arm's length."

Roger set his jaw. He knew something was coming, and he didn't trust it. "I won't accept thanks for doing my job, sir," he responded, levelly, "and in any case, the speed in which projects close has as much to do with me as it does the twelve other people on my team."

"Well, I'm hoping you're wrong, because I've got need of your talents." Al reached into a drawer, pulling out a folder and putting it on the desk in front of Roger. "The Sterling account. I assume you're at least familiar with it?"

Roger stared at the folder, but didn't pick it up. "The... yeah. That's our biggest client. It's something like a million dollar contract."

"One-point six million, actually. It's absolutely our biggest job. And it's been going to absolute shit."

"Sir?"

"The folks we've got working on it don't know how to wipe themselves. There's been more errors and fuck-ups in this one job than in my entire dating life, and if even half of them got back to Sterling, they'd wipe the contract and give Legal a nice suit for their trouble. Which is why changes need to happen, and they needed to happen yesterday. I think you're gonna be perfect to oversee those changes."

"Sir?" Roger looked from Al, to the folder, and back to Al. "Are... are you offering me a promotion?"

"Not officially. You'll still be team... team lead." Al paused a second, his expression becoming just the tiniest bit harsher, for a moment. Roger raised an eyebrow, but Al didn't notice, as he continued. "Technically it's a lateral move, but you're going to be handling work that the company actually gives a shit about, instead of subsidizing it."

Roger exhaled through his nose. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out his glasses and put them on, reaching for the folder with his other hand. "Well, sir," he said, his voice deep and serious. "I would have thought I didn't merit a kick upstairs. Not after the report I filed with HR."

Al clearly wanted to remain stony-faced, but he couldn't help a smirk playing across his pointed face. "Sorry? I'm not sure what report you're referring to."

"You know exactly what report I'm referring to, sir." Roger opened the folder, and flipped through the pages, with practiced indifference. "It's the reason you've called me in, today, and I would honestly prefer if we didn't pretend, otherwise."

Al made a show of thinking, before shaking his head. "No, no, I'm sorry. I honestly don't have any idea which report you're talking about." Reaching over to his computer screen, he turned it so the rabbit could see. "Perhaps you'd like to point out the one you're talking about, on this list I have." Craning his head, he clicked on one of the video files, that sat in the folder on his screen. "Are you maybe referring to those two programmers who started a Hardcast account?"

Roger's eyes widened, as a clip played of Shirley and Carol. They were bantering with their audience as Shirl was slipping her fingers into the mouse's dainty bra. Or, at least, Shirl was bantering. Carol was moaning loud enough to wake the dead, her eyes on the wolf's tenting compression shorts.

The clip stopped. Al moved the mouse down. "Maybe you're talking about the copywriters who left their genetic material in a malfunctioning elevator."

Black and white security footage played. A short, fidgety parrot drove his digits into the sopping, heat-addled sex of a thrashing tabby, the floor already streaked with cum.

Al stopped the video and moved the mouse down one last time. "No, no, I got it. I got it. Clearly, you're talking about the absolute glut of people who are using your office's supply closet as a dedicated Seven Minutes in Heaven spot."

Roger's fur stood on end, as his own voice came crackling out of the computer speakers. "B-Breed me, you stupid cat!" cried a past version of himself, with a frankness and desperation that made Present Roger squirm.

Al clicked the mouse one more time, silencing Past Roger's needy moans, before turning the monitor back in his direction. The whole time, the dragon's eyes never left his employee. He stared into Roger's eyes, steely and unblinking.

Roger stared back. Then, he released his breath through his nose. When he straightened up, his face was more determinedly set. "They've done nothing wrong," he said. "The company handbook has no rules for employees in the same pay tier engaging in relations with each other, so long as their behavior doesn't rise to the level of creating a hostile work environment. Shirley and Carol were duly cautioned about that, and they have kept their behavior off-campus ever since. As for Wendy and Cyrus, they were in a stressful situation caused by a defective Oxlift. I think you and I know that far worse things could have happened with two scared employees in a broken elevator."

Al leaned back. His hand drifted beneath the desk, as he smirked. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" Roger kept his expression level. "Are you expecting me to defend my behavior? The person with me in that tape was not a subordinate in my team, but the fact remains that I still engaged in relations on-campus, and the relationship may still be in violation of company policy. So far, nobody's been around to give me a write-up about that incident, but I fully intend to take that write-up on the chin, if and when it does come down the pipe. In fact, I have a written response to that write-up already made, on my personal laptop. I can print it out for you and have it on your desk by close of business."

Al's smirk deepened. Then, he chuckled. His chuckle turned into a full fledged laugh. He threw his head back, pointed fangs on full display. Eventually, he wound down, letting out a sigh that had the faintest hint of moan to it. Finally, he met Roger's eyes, again. "Looks like the rumors are true. For someone getting tail at work, you sure have a stick up your ass."

Roger rolled his eyes. "You can skip to the part where I'm fired, sir. I've kept meticulous notes on this whole ordeal, and while I have no intention of filing an official complaint, I will be using a redacted version of it to explain my position to any future interviewers."

"Oh, stop it." Al waved the idea away, with one hand. "You think I'm here to fire you? You're slower on the draw than I thought." Pulling away from his desk, the dragon looked down between his legs. "Get up here. I think he needs it spelled out, for him."

Roger raised an eyebrow. Then, both of them shot up. A thin, blushing shark pulled himself up from under Al's desk. He turned to face the rabbit, a line of spittle still hanging off one side of his mouth as he held up a hand. "Uh... hi, Boss."

"Pablo?" Roger looked from the shark, to Al, stymied.

Al stood up. From where he sat, Roger could clearly see that the CEO was naked from the waist down, his apple green, spittle slicked cock fully rampant and on display as he put one of his big hands on the back of Pablo's neck. "I'm not done with you," he said to Pablo. "Why don't you get out of those slacks, while I explain the situation to your manager?"

Pablo met Roger's eyes, then looked away. The shark's face burned, even as he bent over and began to undo the buckle of his belt.

Al stared over the shark's back, putting his tail against his shoulder. "You see, Black," he began, "I know we're cut from at least some of the same cloth, but unlike you, I'm not a stickler for the rules. All I care about is whether... hold on a second." He paused, putting a hand around his thick cock and rubbing it against the tight ring of Pablo's twitching anus. With a contented sigh, he pushed in, grinding forward until his hips were pressed against Pablo's toned ass. "Fucking... that's more like it. Where was I? Oh, yes." Pablo began to moan, softly, as Al started sawing back and forth. "All I care about is whether people get their jobs done, and get them done right. You? You definitely get the job done (Oh, loosen up, pup. This isn't your first time, and you're not fooling your boss by pretending). As I was saying..."

Roger crossed his leg. He tried to keep his expression level, even as his crotch began to itch. "Why are you doing this?" he heard himself asking. He vaguely realized that his eyes was directly on his boss's cock, as it poked in and out from Pablo's rear. Desperately, he tried to turn his eyes away. Pablo's face did nothing to put his mind at ease. The shark stared into his eyes, half-lidded, his mouth open as if silently begging for a kiss, or something else to occupy his mouth. It was all Roger could do to keep from biting his lip, which he steadfastly refused to do, seeing it as a sign of weakness he couldn't afford.

Al took a second to focus his attention on the shark between his legs. He swung his hips like he was trying to batter Pablo's ass into submission. Judging by the slutty moans Pablo made, it was a wholly unnecessary display of force. Finally, the dragon settled down to a comfortable pace, before parroting: "Why am I doing this?" He grinned, looking directly into Roger's eyes as his hips continued swinging. "I just wanted you to feel at home. Let...nnngh... let you know what your new job might look like, if you're willing to play ball."

"What...?" Roger began, before Pablo's moaning cut him off. "What are you...?" Another moan. Roger looked down at the shark. He emphatically did not trust the expression on his face. Roger tried one more time. "Sir, are you suggesting that you're planning on keeping me on, even though I'm...?"

"Fuck... fuck, Sir!" Pablo cried. "Harder, sir! I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna..."

The shark's words were cut off, when Roger put his hands down against the top and bottom of his snout and held his mouth shut. The rabbit glared at Pablo, as he growled. "The professionals are talking, Pablo!"

If Roger was expecting Pablo to be cowed by that, it backfired. If anything, the whine in the back of the shark's throat grew even more desperate. His eyes glazed over, hips twitching, as streaks of cum began to paint the top of the desk from his two thin cocks.

Roger sighed, looking up at Al with his hands still on Pablo's snout. "Sir, we're definitely going to have to establish some kind of understanding here. Could you stop...?"

Before Roger could finish that sentence, Al slammed home, growling as he began to dump a load of hot cum in Pablo's clenching ass. "Fuck, yeah..." his tongue lolled out of his mouth, drooling obscenely as he ground his hips against the shark's rear. "Keep clenching, pup. You milk cock better than any pussy I've ever had!"

"Fucking... whatever!" Throwing his hands up, Roger leapt out of his seat and walked away from the desk. He shook his hands like he was trying to throw water off of them, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. Behind him, the sounds of two toned, fit men riding out their orgasms slowly wound down to a close. He waited. Eyes closed, jaw set, a flutter in his lower body that he was trying desperately to master. Eventually, he turned around. "Are we good?" he said, his voice practically a yell. "Got our fucking nuts in? Can we finally get around to talking business?"

Al chuckled. Pulling out of Pablo, he walked to the front of the desk and leaned against it. Naked from the waist down, his impressive cock hung between his legs, slowly deflating but still dangerous in its size and shape. "Sure thing, Black. Let's talk business."

Roger realized his eyes were lingering on that slab of dragon meat, for far longer than necessary. He didn't let it take the edge out of his voice. "So, what is this, then? Blackmail?"

"Oh, my God, Black," Al looked up at the ceiling, in marked frustration. "Will you stop assuming you're in trouble, here? This is not blackmail, all right? This is a negotiation. It's uh... um..." Al snapped his fingers, a few times, before looking over to Pablo. "Hey, pup. What was the thing I called what we've got on Roger here, just before I put you under my desk?"

Pablo moaned, uselessly, his legs trembling on the far side of the desk.

Al snapped his fingers. "Mutually assured destruction! That's the phrase I was thinking of! Thanks, pup." Grinning, he turned back to Roger. "What we have here is a knife to each other's crotches. You've got evidence that could get me ousted by the board, and I've got evidence that can get you fired and blacklisted. Neither one of us is gonna use what we have, because then the other one's gonna report out of spite. Then it becomes a big song and dance, HR gets involved. There's lawsuits, reports on the six-o-clock news... basically everyone involved in this shit-show gets their names and personal lives traipsed all over social media."

Roger's brow furrowed.

Al shrugged. "And you know... I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly busting to fire one of my few above-average employees and fuck up one of my actually productive teams because someone I don't like is getting laid. This is a knife I really don't like having near my junk. So, I'll make you a deal: I put mine away, and you put yours away. What I want... is for us to have a working relationship. We are not each other's enemies, here, and I feel like together we might even be able to do some good business." Leaning to one side, he picked up the folder (which was thankfully spared the effects of Pablo's excitement) and held it out for Roger to take.

Roger looked from the folder, to Al. "What about my team?" he asked.

Al chuckled. "They're going with you, of course. You seem to gel with them pretty good. Besides, knowing my luck, any new team lead I assign to them is going to quash their mojo, if you know what I mean."

"You mean, a new lead would stop them from having sex with each other."

"Yeah, exactly," Al said, making a shrugging motion with the folder in his hand. "I'll admit, it's a bit unorthodox, as far as team-building exercises go. For all I know, however, that's the one thing keeping your team together and working this efficiently."

Roger reached a hand out, putting his fingers around the folder. Before pulling it away, however, he met Al's eyes. "I wanna lay down some ground rules, here."

Al shrugged. "Hit me."

"Number one: bosses don't fuck their subordinates." He saw Pablo pull his head up, about to protest. He cut it off at the pass. "Pablo over there decided, against my explicit advice, to keep pursuing a relationship with you. It's his decision, as stupid as it is, and I could live with that. But that does not mean it's open season on the people on my team, for either of us."

Al's expression was sterner. More professional. Were it not for the fact he was naked from the waist down, he would be the spitting image of the high-powered CEO. "So... you're saying it's okay as long as they pursue us?"

"They won't."

"But if they do?"

"They won't."

"But if... they do?"

Roger sighed. "If they're dumb enough to try, knowing what that means, and if you're dumb enough to accept more potential lawsuits... whatever. But I better not catch whiff of it being anything short of wildly consensual."

Al smirked, with a predatory glint. "I can do wildly consensual. What about you? Think any of your team members might be aching to get into your pants?"

Roger stared into Al's eyes, but didn't respond. Instead, he continued. "Number two: it stays off-campus."

"I'd settle for off-camera," Al interjected.

"You've already admitted to hiding cameras in my supply closet, sir," Roger said, with a scowl. "Forgive me, if I don't trust anywhere being especially safe, for something like this."

"I'll remove them." Al's voice was suddenly businesslike, again. "I already got what I needed. In fact, I can give you a list. Everywhere on your floor where it would be acceptable for your employees to have their 'secret' fun, where they wouldn't be caught on camera and wouldn't be able to disturb the rest of the team. You'd have my word."

Roger's expression changed. He didn't want to admit it, but he was considering the idea. He shook his head. "I'd still have to insist on keeping relations off-site. I can't advocate for my employees to fuck each other in the building. Not if I want to pretend like I'm a professional."

"Of course not." Al nodded his understanding. "Anything else?"

Roger nodded. "One more thing, I think. If any of these guys leave your company, you're gonna give them a glowing recommendation. No questions asked. You're gonna tell anyone who asks what a good job they did for you, and you're not going to breathe a syllable about their private lives, while you do it."

"You think any of them are planning to leave?"

"No. That's why I said 'if,' not 'when.'"

Al bit his lip and nodded his head, thoughtfully. Then, he opened his mouth with a sharp snap and said "Deal." As Roger pulled the folder away from him, the dragon smiled. "You know, you've spent all this time talking about the well-being of your team. Can't help but notice you don't have any questions about how your new job's gonna affect your pay."

Roger tucked the folder under his arm. "That's because I wasn't planning on asking. If I ask for a pay raise, while we're busy hashing out the dirt we have on each other, that's blackmail, which is illegal."

Al nodded in understanding. "And if I offer a raise, after we talked about the dirt we have on each other, that's bribery, which is merely unethical."

"Exactly."

"Fuck. You're a smart guy, Black. Where did you study business?"

"I didn't."

"Could've fooled me. I know a few assholes on the board who you could talk circles around." Al took a step forward, thrusting out a hand. "We've got a deal. I'll get your new pay package in writing, and drop the details in your inbox."

Roger shook Al's hand. "And my team?"

"I'll leave the good news part to you, and the details of their pay to the bean counters." Al leaned back against his desk, even as he continued to grip the rabbit's hand. He spread his legs a bit, manhood still ever-so-slightly peeking out from the slit between his legs. "So... feel like sealing the deal in a less informal way?"

"Sir?" Roger pretended like he didn't understand what that meant, even as his eyes drifted southward.

Al laughed. "Don't be modest, Black." He gestured with his head, over to the desk. "Pablo, over there, has been nursing a hard-on for you for a year and a half, now."

"What?" Pablo pulled himself up to his feet. "S-sir, you promised you wouldn't talk about th-"

"He calls you 'Boss,'" Al interrupted, grinning at Roger as he spoke to him. "Fucking adorable, right? He only calls me 'Sir.'"

Pablo clearly tried to find something to say, in his own defense, in the time it took for him to walk around to the front of the desk. However, he apparently couldn't think of anything. He merely stood there, also naked from the waist down, looking at both of his bosses in turn and sputtering uselessly.

Al continued to talk to Roger, not giving the shark an iota of eye contact. "What do you say, Black? That passes the benchmark of 'enthusiastic consent' or whatever, doesn't it?"

Roger looked over to Pablo. The shark blushed and rubbed the back of his head, looking away shyly. The rabbit smirked at him. Then, he turned back to Al and said "Unfortunately, unlike some people I could mention... I have work to do."

"Ah, well, I tried." Al put an arm around Pablo's shoulder and pulled him in. "Not to worry, pup. I'm sure you'll get your chance to be under your Boss, soon. Now that the air's clear, and we all know where we stand. Isn't that right, Bl...?"

Roger was already at the door, hand on the handle. He turned around, after hearing part of his name. "What is it, sir? Did you need me for anything else?"

"Nah. You get back out there. You know where to find me, if you need me."

With that, Roger left Al and Pablo, still half naked. He caught the tail end of their conversation, of Al attempting to negotiate a round two from the blushing shark, before the door closed completely. Roger took a deep breath through his nose, and then out through his mouth. Approaching the elevator, he paused. He reached into a pocket with his free hand, pulling out his cellphone, and clicked through the contact list.

He put the phone up to his ear, while he pressed the call button and waited for the elevator. "Hey," he said into the device. "You busy?" He shifted his weight nervously, to his other foot. "Parking lot. Yeah, you heard me. Yes, now. Like, right now." The doors opened up. Briskly, he stepped in. "Everything's fine. I just... I need you, okay? Yeah. See you in a minute."

Pressing the lobby button, Roger leaned against the far wall. His heart fluttered with held-in anxiety. His body further down fluttered as well, with something altogether more urgent and overpowering. He felt like he dodged a bullet. There were any number of things he was going to have to stress out about, in the future. A million-and-one different ways this situation could go to shit, and take the career of any number of people down, including his own. None of that mattered, right now.

Right now, what mattered was getting himself up on a certain cat's hips.