Chapter 5: Heat in the Lift

Ahaan hadn’t made eye contact with Matteo since the “honey incident.”

He avoided his floor. Skipped the cafeteria. Took the stairs when he could. And when Matteo passed by — confident and sharp in tailored suits — Ahaan ducked behind walls like a criminal.

But it didn’t matter.

Because Matteo always knew.

Wednesday. 8:06 AM.

The elevator doors opened — and Ahaan stepped inside with a small breath of relief.

Empty.

He pressed the top floor button and leaned back, eyes closing. Just two minutes of peace—

Slide.

A hand caught the door just before it shut.

Ahaan’s stomach dropped.

Matteo walked in. Alone. Silent.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t even look at him.

He just hit the emergency stop button.

Click.

The elevator jolted. Then stillness.

Ahaan’s heart pounded.

“W-What are you—?”

“I’m done being ignored,” Matteo said, voice smooth but sharp.

He turned slowly. Eyes dark. Jacket unbuttoned.

Ahaan backed into the elevator wall, heart racing. “This is—this is illegal—”

“Illegal?” Matteo stepped closer. “No cameras. No one watching. And you’re still shaking.”

He placed a hand on the wall beside Ahaan’s head.

Close. Too close.

“You didn’t say stop last time,” Matteo whispered, lips grazing his ear. “You begged for more.”

“I—I didn’t—”

“You came on my tongue, Ahaan.”

His voice was low. Lethal.

“You tasted like sin and sugar. And you haven’t looked me in the eye since.”

Ahaan’s legs threatened to give way.

“I’m your boss,” Matteo murmured. “But I want to ruin you like I’m not.”

His fingers slid along Ahaan’s hip, inching beneath the hem of his shirt.

Ahaan gasped as Matteo’s hand found skin — warm, possessive, sliding down until his thumb brushed just above his zipper.

“You’re already hard.”

“I’m—n-not—”

“Liar.”

Matteo’s knee pressed gently between Ahaan’s legs, separating them. Ahaan’s breath hitched.

The elevator was still.

The city buzzed outside.

But inside — it was just heat and air and heartbeats.

Then Matteo leaned in fully — his lips brushing Ahaan’s neck, his words sharp and devastating:

> “You made a mess on my tongue.

Now be a good boy... and make one on my fingers.”

Ahaan’s gasp broke the silence.

Matteo’s hand slipped lower, palming him over the fabric — slow, controlled.

No rush. No mercy.

Ahaan bit his lip, eyes fluttering closed as his hips bucked against the pressure. It felt wrong. Too public. Too risky.

But he didn’t want it to stop.

“You like being touched when no one can hear you moan, don’t you?” Matteo growled, voice barely above a whisper. “Such a dirty thing, hiding that blush behind silence.”

He stroked him again — firmer this time.

Ahaan’s head fell against the wall.

“Say it,” Matteo demanded.

“…W-What?”

“Say you want me to make you come. Right here. Right now.”

Ahaan’s face flushed deep red. “I… I want you to…”

“To what?”

“To… make me come,” he whispered, breathlessly. “Matteo, please.”

Matteo smirked.

And rewarded him with faster strokes.

One hand inside the waistband now — skin to skin — pumping slow and deep.

Each stroke making Ahaan whimper and squirm, hips jerking as pressure built fast and hot.

“Look at me,” Matteo ordered.

Ahaan opened his eyes — hazy, desperate, needy.

“Good boy,” Matteo said, kissing him hard — claiming his mouth while his hand worked below.

Ahaan’s moan was swallowed into the kiss — body arching, heart racing.

And when he finally shattered — with a helpless cry into Matteo’s mouth, thighs trembling, pants sticky and shameful — Matteo didn’t flinch.

He just pulled back slowly, licking his bottom lip.

“Still pretending you don’t want this?” he asked.

Ahaan stood there, breathless and destroyed. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Matteo leaned close once more.

“You want more.”

Click.

He pressed the elevator back in motion.

As the lift moved, Matteo adjusted his sleeves like nothing happened.

But Ahaan?

Still ruined.

Still aching.

Still hungry for something he was terrified to name.

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