Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]-Chapter 46: He wasn’t his idea type before

Lance collapsed onto the bed for a moment, catching his breath. His mind was still spinning, but reality started to creep back in.

He sat up, stretched, and reached over to turn off the camera. The red recording light went dark, leaving the room quiet except for the hum of the laptop.

He removed the mask from his face and placed the camera neatly on the table next to the laptop.

There was editing to do, he needed to make sure everything was ready before sending it to Ansel but first, there were more practical tasks.

Like changing the sheets, again!

With a resigned sigh, Lance stripped the bed, tossing the used sheets into the washer.

He pulled out the clean set and carefully made the bed, smoothing every corner.

Another set of sheets down, two washes in a single day, he still couldn’t believe it.

Next came the equipment. He sanitized the vibrator once more and tucked it back into its box. The ring light and all related gear went back into the closet, organized so that nothing would be in the way later.

Everything had a place, and Lance liked it that way.

Finally, he headed to the shower. This time he took a thorough bath, washing away every trace of the lube in his body.

He lingered under the warm spray longer than usual, letting the heat and water soothe both his body and his frazzled nerves.

Once he stepped out, he dried off and dressed in comfortable clothes, feeling more like himself again.

With his laptop, phone, and camera in hand, he moved into the living room.

The first task: edit the video and send it to Ansel. After that, he would shift his focus to something completely different, the keynote speech for the business convention.

Professor Harding had sent him the overview of what the convention was going to be about.

So he knew the type of speech to write.

Lance leaned against the couch, laptop open, camera connected.

He worked quickly, his fingers moving efficiently over the keyboard as he imported the footage.

Cutting, trimming, adjusting angles, he didn’t need to overthink it. He just needed it done.

Within minutes, the video was edited with no particular specification.

He reviewed it one last time, attached the file, and sent it to Ansel.

He hoped he liked it.

The confirmation pinged, and he let out a small, relieved exhale.

He glanced at the clock.

Plenty of time before dinner, and it was the perfect window to focus on the speech. Laptop open, notes spread across the table, he dove in.

Meanwhile.

Ansel sat at the head of the long, polished conference table in the sterile boardroom of his company’s headquarters, surrounded by a sea of suits and ties.

The public relations team droned on about upcoming campaigns and damage control strategies, their voices blending into a monotonous hum that barely registered in his mind.

His thoughts were elsewhere, lingering on Lance, the young man who had become an intoxicating fixation.

The memory of Lance’s tear-streaked face from their last encounter, his body yielding under Ansel’s unyielding dominance, made it impossible to focus.

Ansel’s phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a notification on the message app.

Without hesitation, he tapped it, assuming he could sneak a quick peek.

The video sprang to life, and suddenly, the room was no longer filled with corporate jargon.

Instead, a series of explicit sounds erupted, Lance’s desperate moans, the rhythmic squelch of the vibrator going in and out of him, and the wet, obscene noises of self-pleasure.

The presenter’s words faltered mid-sentence, his face draining of color as he froze, the pointer still hovering over the projection screen.

The entire room plunged into stunned silence, twenty-odd employees exchanging wide-eyed glances, their discomfort palpable.

Whispers rippled through the air like a wave: "Is that...?"

"Did he just...?" The air thickened with awkward tension, the kind that made sweat bead on foreheads and ties feel too tight.

Ansel didn’t flinch. He paused the video with a swift tap, the sounds cutting off abruptly, leaving an echoing void.

His expression remained impassive, a mask of authority that dared anyone to comment. "Why did you stop?" he asked the presenter, his voice steady and commanding, as if the interruption were nothing more than a minor glitch.

The man stammered an apology, his cheeks flushing crimson, and quickly resumed his spiel about market trends and PR pitfalls. But the damage was done; the room buzzed with unspoken judgment.

Their boss, had just exposed them all to what sounded unmistakably like pornography in the middle of a professional meeting.

Their eyes darted away, notebooks rustled nervously, and the atmosphere grew stifling, a collective effort to pretend it hadn’t happened.

As the presentation limped on, Ansel slipped in his AirPods, resuming the video on a lower volume.

Now, the sounds were his alone, Lance’s whimpers and gasps, his hand working the vibrator with that frustrated urgency.

The images on the screen mesmerized him: Lance’s lithe body arched on the bed, sweat-slicked skin glowing under the light, his cock straining for release.

Ansel’s mind wandered, his thoughts a torrent of possessive desire. He should have made the contract open-ended from the start.

Lance was too good, too perfectly breakable, the way his hole clenched around vibrator, the tear that lined his face as he begged for a release that never came.

At first, Lance hadn’t been his type: he was too young, too defiant, with that air of innocence that screamed for corruption.

But now, the more Ansel watched him, the deeper the obsession burrowed.

He imagined pinning Lance down over and over, forcing him to take every inch, making him sob with a mix of pain and unwanted pleasure. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

His pants grew uncomfortably tight, his erection straining against the fabric, a physical manifestation of the hunger that consumed him.

The meeting dragged on interminably, but Ansel barely registered the details.

He nodded absently at key points, his mind elsewhere, until he finally dismissed the team with a curt, "Don’t let it flop.." his words clipped and authoritative.

The employees filed out in a hurry, their relief evident in the way they avoided his gaze, leaving him alone in the boardroom.

Once the door clicked shut, Ansel let out a slow breath, his hand dropping to his crotch.

He was rock-hard, his dick throbbing with need, the video still playing in his ears. "Fuck.." he muttered to himself, his voice low and gravelly.