Chapter 17 Victor
VICTOR
Tonight was everything. Three years of blood, sweat, and broken bones culminating in the biggest underground fight night Ravenwood has ever seen. Scouts from three neighboring cities, serious money changing hands, and my reputation solidifying with each victory.
Standing in the center of the empty warehouse, I breathe in the lingering scent of sweat and adrenaline. The cleaning crew will come tomorrow. Tonight, this space is still mine.
Jonah surprised even me. The kid’s always been strong despite his smaller frame, but tonight he was something else entirely—surgical precision combined with raw power.
When his opponent, a beast from Eastlake with an undefeated record, finally hit the mat, the crowd erupted.
I saw money changing hands and heard my name shouted alongside his. My gym. My fighter. My win.
Dawson was here.
Front row, left of the ring. Sandwiched between Hartwell from Southwest Financial and Lin from BioMax—two of my sponsors, two of mine—both of them laughing at something Dawson had just said. Hartwell had a hand on Dawson’s shoulder.
I registered it during Jonah’s third round and filed it away. There are always interlopers at fights this size. Old rivals are showing up to take their measurement. It happens.
But Hartwell signed our renewal six weeks ago. And Lin’s been a fixture at our last four cards. Neither of them came over to say hello tonight. Neither of them looked up when I passed.
I’ll have Marco pull their contract records this week. Just to be sure.
Marco had to practically drag Jonah away from the post-fight celebrations. The kid deserved every drink offered, every number slipped into his pocket, but tomorrow is another training day. No exceptions.
Now it’s just me and the empty ring. This is my ritual—standing alone after everyone leaves, feeling the power of the space. A king surveying his kingdom.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, breaking the silence.
I pull it out, swipe open the notification, and—
“Fuck.”
My throat goes dry instantly.
Theo is on all fours, wearing black stockings and crotchless panties that frame his ass. He’s looking back at the camera, his face flushed, eyes heavy with desire. His cock hangs hard and heavy between his legs, and his ass is spread wide, waiting. Ready.
The caption beneath it reads.
missing Daddy’s dick
My body responds immediately, blood rushing south so fast I feel lightheaded. I glance around the empty warehouse, suddenly aware of how exposed I am standing in the middle of the ring, getting hard over a man’s photo.
I should delete it. Block his number. End whatever this is.
Instead, I save the photo.
I open a new message, my fingers hovering over the screen. Every instinct tells me to walk away, but my body has other ideas.
“You’re a lunatic.”
The response is almost immediate.
“Your lunatic, though.”
I grip the phone tighter, jaw clenched.
“This isn’t fucking cute, Theo.”
“No? Your dick seemed to think differently last time.”
I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that I’m already calculating the fastest route to his place.
“Not tonight. I’ve got work.”
“The fights are over. Your boys won. Come celebrate properly.”
A second message pings through with an address in the arts district.
“I’ll be waiting, Daddy.”
I slam my phone down on the corner post, pressing my palms against my eyes. The quiet of the warehouse amplifies my ragged breathing. Every muscle in my body is tense, ready for a fight—or something else entirely.
Ten minutes. That’s how long I stand there in the darkness, listening to the battle in my head. The voice telling me I’m not this guy, that everything I’ve built could crumble if anyone knew. The other voice—the one growing louder every day—saying maybe I am this guy after all.
My phone screen glows in the darkness. That address burns into my retinas.
“Fuck it.”
I snatch my keys from the hook in my office, lock up the warehouse, and slide into my Charger. The engine roars to life, vibrating through the leather seat.
As I pull onto the empty streets, I tell myself this is the last time. That after tonight, I’m done with whatever this is.
I know I’m lying.
I don’t text him. I don’t want a record of this weakness.
The drive to Theo’s place passes in a blur of streetlights and self-loathing. Each mile closer, my knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. This is the last time—I’ve said that before, but tonight it has to stick.
When I reach his building, I park haphazardly and take the elevator to his floor. My heart pounds against my ribcage like it’s trying to escape. I should turn around. I should walk away.
I knock instead.
Theo opens the door, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties. His eyes meet mine, and there’s no surprise there—just that sharp look that makes me want to both punch him and press him against the wall.
“I figured you’d come,” he says, stepping aside to let me in.
I storm past him into his apartment. “This has to stop.”
“Does it?” Theo closes the door with a soft click that somehow sounds final. He moves closer, and I can smell his cologne—expensive and subtle—which clings to my clothes for days after I leave him.
“Yeah, it fucking does.” My voice is rougher than I intend. “The texts, the pictures. I can’t have that shit on my phone.”
Theo raises an eyebrow, circling me like a predator despite being half my size.
“Funny. You promised to service this ass regularly.” He turns, giving me a view of his round backside in those crotchless fucking panties.
“You made me promise not to call anyone else Daddy.” He looks back over his shoulder.
“So either step up, or I’ll find someone who will. ”
It ignites something inside me I can’t contain. The thought of someone else touching him, hearing him moan as he does for me—my blood boils.
“What did you just say?” I grab his arm, spinning him to face me.
“You heard me.” Theo doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. “I need someone reliable. Someone who isn’t ashamed of what they want.”
Before I can stop myself, my hand wraps around his throat. My fingers easily encircle his slender neck, thumb pressing against his pulse point. I lift him slightly, feeling his weight—so much lighter than he should be for someone who commands such power over me.
“You think I’m gonna let you run to someone else?” I growl, backing him against the wall. My hand flexes, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind him how easily I could. “You’re not gonna fucking look at another man. You understand me?”
Theo’s eyes widen, but not with fear. His lips part, a soft moan escaping as his eyelids flutter. My grip tightens just a fraction.
“I asked you a question.” I lean closer, our faces inches apart. I can feel his rapid pulse beneath my fingers.
“Yes,” he breathes, his voice raspy from the pressure of my hand. “I understand.”
“What do you understand?” I press him harder against the wall, my body completely dwarfing his. The size difference between us still shocks me sometimes—how someone so small can drive me so fucking crazy.
“That I’m yours,” Theo gasps. His hips buck forward involuntarily, his erection evident through the lace. “Only yours, Daddy.”
That word. That fucking word that should repulse me instead sends fire through my veins.
“That’s right.” I lean down to his ear, my beard scratching against his cheek. “Mine. And if I ever find out you’ve been with someone else, I’ll remind you exactly who you belong to.”
Theo moans louder this time, his hands gripping my forearms, not to pull away but to steady himself. His eyes have gone glassy with desire, pupils blown wide.
“You like that, don’t you? Like knowing how fucking possessive I am over what’s mine.”
He nods frantically, another moan escaping his lips as my grip shifts slightly.
“Say it,” I demand, my voice dropping lower. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” he whimpers. “Only you, Daddy. No one else.”
I grasp Theo’s waist and lift him effortlessly, carrying him to the bedroom like he weighs nothing. I throw him onto the bed, and he bounces once.
“Lie on the bed,” I command, already unbuckling my belt. The leather slides through the loops with a hiss.
Theo obeys instantly, his eyes never leave mine as I undress, watching hungrily as each piece of clothing hits the floor.
When I’m naked, I climb onto the bed, hovering over his smaller frame. I force his legs apart with my knees, positioning myself between them. He arches up against me, desperate for contact.
“Please,” Theo whimpers, his hands reaching for me.
I pin his wrists above his head with one hand, using my other to grip his jaw. “Beg for it properly.”
“Please, Daddy. I need you inside me. Need you to fill me up.”
Those words send liquid heat through my veins. I release him just long enough to grab the lube from his nightstand, coating myself generously before positioning at his entrance. I push in slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure as I stretch him open.
“Fuck,” I groan as I bottom out. The tight heat around me is almost too much. Each thrust forces small, desperate sounds from Theo’s throat. His eyes roll back, hands clutching at my shoulders, nails digging crescents into my skin.
“God, Victor,” he gasps between thrusts. “You feel so good inside me.”
He looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “I wonder what you’d feel like around my dick.”
My hips stutter to a halt. My entire body goes rigid.
“What?” The word comes out strangled.
“Your ass,” Theo continues, running his hands down my chest. “I bet you’d feel amazing. So tight around me.”
My brain stutters. The dominant haze that’s been driving me evaporates instantly. I’m frozen, buried deep inside him, but suddenly unable to move.
“I... No. That’s not—” I can’t even form a coherent thought.