Chapter 13 Theo
THEO
I’ve never been particularly patient. The problem with patience is that it assumes time is neutral—that waiting costs nothing. But desire has a half-life, and I can feel Victor’s resolve decaying with each passing day.
So I escalate.
Getting Victor’s training schedule wasn’t particularly difficult.
People talk when you own nightclubs, and information is just another currency in Ravenwood.
I don’t examine too closely which palms were greased or which favors were called in.
The result is what matters: a meticulous breakdown of Victor Kaine’s weekly routine, printed on a sheet of paper I’ve memorized and then burned.
Monday morning finds me at Grind House, a coffee shop two doors down from Kaine’s Fight Club.
I’ve never set foot in the place before, but today I’ve decided they make the best espresso in Ravenwood.
I settle at a window table with my laptop, looking appropriately busy with club financials while positioning myself with a clear view of the gym entrance.
Wednesday afternoon, I’m overseeing the delivery of Eclipse’s new sound system, timing it perfectly so the truck blocks half of Victor’s private parking space.
When he pulls up in that ridiculous muscle car of his, I’m leaning against the loading bay door, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses perched on my nose, directing the installation crew with casual authority.
On Friday evening, I take a new running route that passes the warehouse just as his fighters arrive for their weekly underground matches. I’m shirtless despite the cool evening air, sweat glistening across my chest and back, earbuds in and seemingly lost in my own world.
Each time, I give him exactly three seconds of eye contact. Just enough for that smile—the one that says I know exactly what you look like when you lose control—before returning to whatever I was doing. Never approaching. Never acknowledging the tension crackling between us.
Today marks the sixth day of my campaign.
I’m back at Grind House, this time with a stack of vinyl records I’m sorting through for an upcoming set.
The bell above the door chimes, and I don’t need to look up to know it’s him.
I feel him immediately—that shift in the air, the weight of his attention settling on me like a hand at the back of my neck.
I reach for a record. Count to three. Look up.
His expression tells me everything. He’s done waiting.
“Outside,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear it. “Now.”
I follow him out the side door and into the narrow alley, and then the brick is at my back before I’ve fully registered moving.
The rough wall scrapes against my back, unforgiving as Victor’s mouth claims mine. His body presses me harder into the surface, all that coiled restraint finally snapping like I knew it would. His hands find my wrists, pinning them above my head as he deepens the kiss.
I moan into his mouth, not bothering to hide how much I want this—want him. He tastes like coffee and desperation, and his stubble burns against my skin in the most delicious way.
“Fuck,” he growls against my mouth, pulling back just enough to look at me. His pupils are blown wide, breath coming in short bursts. “You planned this.”
“I planned to get coffee,” I reply, letting my tongue dart out to wet my lips. His eyes track the movement hungrily. “Everything else is just... happy coincidence.”
Victor shifts, pressing his thigh between my legs, and I can’t help but roll my hips against the pressure. His grip on my wrists tightens.
“Six days,” he says, voice rough. “You’ve been everywhere I look for six fucking days.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You’ve been counting? I’m flattered.”
His response is another kiss, harder this time, teeth catching my lower lip in a way that makes heat pool low in my stomach. One of his hands releases my wrist to grab my jaw, tilting my head for better access as his tongue slides against mine.
When he finally breaks the kiss, we’re both breathing hard. My free hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the thunderous beat of his heart beneath my palm.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I challenge softly, holding his gaze.
Victor’s eyes darken, conflicted desire written across his features. His thumb brushes roughly across my lower lip, and I can feel him hardening against my hip.
“I can’t,” he admits, the words seemingly torn from somewhere deep inside him.
“Come with me,” I say, my voice low enough that only Victor can hear it. His eyes dart around the alley, checking for witnesses to our embrace. “I have a place nearby.”
Relief washes over his features, though the tension doesn’t leave his body. “Lead the way.”
Lucky for us both, my private members bar is only a block away—an exclusive space I established for Eclipse VIPs who need discretion rather than spectacle. We walk side by side, close enough that our shoulders occasionally brush, each contact sending a zap through my veins.
Victor maintains a deliberate distance between us, his jaw clenched and eyes forward. He’s still fighting it, still pretending this is something that’s happening to him rather than something he’s choosing. I let him have the illusion. For now.
“It’s closed until tonight,” I explain as I unlock the unmarked door. “No cameras, no staff. Complete privacy.”
The space is intimate—dark wood, leather seating, subtle lighting that casts everything in golden shadows. I’ve barely locked the door behind us when Victor’s control shatters.
His hands are everywhere at once, shoving me against the wall, mouth crashing into mine with desperate force. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, desperation made physical. My body responds instantly, arching into him as his hands grip my hips hard enough to leave marks.
Victor breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged against my ear. “I want your ass so fucking bad,” he growls, the words vibrating through his chest and into mine.
I smile against his neck, savoring the victory in his surrender. “Then take it.”
“I have something to show you,” I say, leading him deeper into the exclusive space. My fingers curl around his wrist, feeling his pulse hammering beneath my thumb.
At the back of the bar, behind an unmarked door that blends seamlessly with the paneled walls, lies my private sanctuary. I key in the code—only three people know it exists, and only I have access—and push the door open.
Victor’s sharp intake of breath is reward enough as the lights automatically rise to a dim glow. The room isn’t large, but it’s meticulously equipped. Padded leather benches. Restraints hanging from discreet hooks. A cabinet of toys and tools. And mirrored walls.
“What the fuck is this place?” Victor’s voice has dropped an octave, heavy with something between lust and apprehension.
I turn to face him, fingers already working at the buttons of my shirt. “Something tells me you know exactly what this is.”
His eyes track every inch of skin I reveal. I take my time, enjoying how his breathing quickens as I shrug the shirt from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. My hands move to my belt, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss.
“You planned this too,” he accuses, but there’s no real anger in his tone—just heat.
I step out of my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion. “I like to be prepared for every possibility.”
Naked now, I cross to the main bench—black leather over a sturdy frame, padded in all the right places. Without hesitation, I position myself on it, my knees spread wide on the lower platform, chest resting against the angled top. The leather is cool against my skin.
Looking over my shoulder, I catch Victor’s gaze. “Well?” I ask, arching my back slightly.
The transformation is immediate. Something primal takes over his features—pupils dilating, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched tight. His chest expands with each breath, filling the doorway like a predator blocking its prey’s escape. His cock strains visibly against his slacks, the outline unmistakable.
He looks... beastly. There’s no other word for it. The carefully maintained facade of civilization has slipped, revealing something raw and hungry underneath.
“Fuck,” he breathes, the single syllable rough with need.
Victor doesn’t waste a second. He’s across the room in three powerful strides, yanking open the nearest drawer like he somehow knows exactly where everything is kept. His hand emerges clutching a bottle of premium silicone lube—the expensive kind I keep stocked for occasions exactly like this.
“Can’t fuck around,” he growls, already tearing at his belt and zipper with his free hand. His slacks hit the floor with a heavy thud, followed immediately by his underwear. His cock springs free, impossibly hard and bobbing. “Need to be inside you right fucking now.”
I shift my hips on the bench, spreading my knees wider in blatant invitation. “God, yes,” I agree, feeling my entrance clench with anticipation. “I’m ready for you.”
Victor pauses, bottle already uncapped in his hand. “How ready?”
I look back over my shoulder, making sure to catch his eye as I deliberately lick my lips. “Pretty well stretched already. Been starting every morning, bouncing on my extra-large dildo.” I pause, watching his expression darken. “Imagining it was your cock the whole time.”
Whatever was holding him back dissolves. A guttural sound tears from his throat, not quite a growl but something deeper, more primal. His hand trembles slightly as he pours lube generously over his length, working it with quick, efficient strokes.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, stepping between my spread thighs. The cool slickness of the lube against my entrance makes me gasp as he drizzles more directly onto me. His thick fingers spread it around my rim with surprising gentleness that contrasts sharply with the naked hunger in his eyes.
Then he’s positioning himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against me. There’s a moment of resistance, a breath where we both hang suspended—and then he’s pushing in with one fluid thrust, stretching me wider than any dildo could prepare me for.
The stretch is exquisite—that perfect edge between pleasure and pain that makes my toes curl and my back arch. Victor bottoms out, his hips flush against my ass, and I can feel him everywhere, filling spaces inside me I didn’t know existed.
“Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he growls. “So fucking tight.”
He pulls back slowly, almost withdrawing completely before slamming back in with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. I moan shamelessly, pushing back against him, wanting—needing—more.
“That’s it,” Victor says, thrusting, making the bench creak beneath us. “Take what Daddy gives you.”
The word sends electricity down my spine. “Yes, Daddy,” I gasp, not even trying to hide how much it affects me. My cock throbs, leaking precum onto the leather beneath me.
Victor notices—of course he does—and one of his hands slides beneath me to grip my length. “Look at you, so hard for Daddy,” he says, voice dropping even lower. “Such a good boy.”
The combination of his words, his hand, and the relentless pounding against my prostate has me spiraling toward the edge embarrassingly fast. “Please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for.
“Please what?” Victor demands, slowing his thrusts torturously. His thumb circles the head of my cock, spreading the wetness there.
“Please don’t stop,” I manage, voice cracking with need. “Please, Daddy, I need it. Need you.”
His laugh is dark and satisfied. “That’s what I thought,” he says, releasing my cock to grab my hair instead, pulling my head back just enough to strain my neck. “My needy boy.”
He slams back into me with renewed vigor, the new angle hitting spots that make my vision blur. His other hand delivers a stinging slap to my ass that has me crying out, cock jerking between my legs.
“You like that?” Victor asks, delivering another sharp smack. “Like it when Daddy gets rough with you?”
“God, yes,” I moan, beyond shame now, lost in the perfect storm of sensations. “Harder, please.”
Victor’s rhythm becomes punishing, almost brutal, with each thrust. My body reacts instinctively, pushing back to meet him. Every nerve ending feels electrified—the sweet burn of the stretch, his hands marking my flesh, the delicious edge of pain when he yanks my hair.
“Look,” Victor commands, his voice a rough growl that vibrates through me. “Watch yourself take Daddy’s cock.”
I force my eyes open, meeting my reflection in the mirrored wall.
The sight nearly undoes me. My face is flushed, my lips swollen and parted around desperate breaths.
Victor towers behind me, his massive frame making me look so delicate by comparison.
His muscles flex with each powerful thrust, sweat glistening across his tattooed chest and shoulders.
“See how beautiful you look impaled on my cock?” he growls, one hand sliding up my spine to grip the back of my neck. “Fucking made for this.”
I can only moan in response, unable to look away from our reflection. Victor notices my fascination and smirks, slowing his pace to deliberate, grinding thrusts that have me whimpering.
“You like watching, don’t you?” His fingers tighten on my neck. “Such a dirty boy.”
“Only for you,” I gasp, surprising myself with the raw honesty in my voice.
Something shifts in Victor’s eyes—a flicker of vulnerability quickly masked by intensified desire. He releases my neck to grip my hips with both hands, angling me slightly higher as he resumes his brutal pace.
My cock throbs painfully between my legs, untouched but straining toward release. Every nerve in my body is focused on where we’re connected, on the exquisite fullness and the building pressure at the base of my spine.