Chapter 38 Victor
VICTOR
The drive to Theo’s place passes in a blur. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Every few minutes, I check the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see Dawson’s car following us.
I’m not afraid of Dawson. I could break him in half without breaking a sweat. But his words—his threat—those hit harder than any punch I’ve ever taken.
“You okay?” Theo asks from the passenger seat, his voice soft.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The surge of adrenaline is crashing, leaving me feeling hollow.
At Theo’s apartment, I pace back and forth while he makes us drinks.
My phone buzzes with texts from Marco and Jonah, asking if everything’s okay, saying the team has my back.
I should feel comforted, but all I can think about is how fast it happened.
One moment I was finally being honest, the next I was defending that honesty against someone who wants to use it to destroy everything I’ve built.
“Sit down before you wear a path in my floor,” Theo says, patting the couch beside him.
I sink down, and he pulls me against him. My body resists for a moment—old habits—before I let myself collapse into his embrace. His arms around me feel like the only solid thing in a world suddenly turned to quicksand.
“You were incredible back there,” he murmurs against my hair. “The way you stood up for us.”
“I just reacted.” My voice sounds distant to my own ears. “Didn’t even think.”
“That’s what makes it real.” Theo’s fingers trace patterns on my back. “It wasn’t calculated. It was just you.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, the weight of the day settling between us. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of him, letting it ground me.
“You know he’s going to make good on that threat,” Theo says finally, his voice low but steady.
I pull back enough to look at him, at the face that’s somehow become the center of my world.
“I know.” My jaw sets. “But I’m not going back. Not now.”
“What happens now?” Theo asks, his fingers still tracing patterns on my back.
I exhale slowly, trying to organize my thoughts. “I don’t know. Damage control, I guess. Call my sponsors before Dawson does.”
“Or...” Theo shifts to face me, those dark eyes of his locked on mine. “We could just go all in.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we go public. Completely public.” His voice grows animated, hands gesturing as he speaks. “Instagram, interviews, showing up together at events. No hiding, no shame, just us.”
My stomach drops. The thought of that kind of exposure makes my skin crawl. “Theo—”
“Think about it, Victor. If we control the narrative, Dawson can’t use it against you.”
“I just came out to my core team today. I need time before I’m ready for the whole world.” I stand up, needing to move. “This isn’t easy for me. It’s not like flipping a switch.”
Theo watches me pace, his expression unreadable. “So what’s your plan? Wait for Dawson to force your hand? Let him out you to your sponsors, your fighters, the press?”
“No, I—”
“Because he will. You know he will.” Theo leans forward, elbows on his knees. “So what would you rather? Have Dawson drag you out kicking and screaming, or stand up first and show the world you’ve nothing to be afraid of?”
His words hit like a body blow. “I’m not ashamed.”
“Aren’t you?” His voice is gentle despite the challenge in his words. “Because from where I’m sitting, that’s what it looks like when you panic at the thought of people knowing about us.”
I stop pacing, staring down at him. “It’s not shame. It’s...” I struggle to find the words, to articulate the storm inside me. “Everything I built, I built as Victor Kaine, the straight, tough-as-nails fighter. That’s who people invested in, that’s who fighters come to train with.”
“And you think that changes based on who you choose to be with? Something, mind you, that has fuck all to do with your proven skill as a fighter or trainer?”
“In this world?” I laugh, the sound hollow. “Yeah, it might.”
Theo reaches across the space between us, taking my hand. The simple gesture centers me, pulling me back from the edge of panic.
“Victor, listen to me.” His voice drops, becomes softer. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. Not once in my life.”
Something shifts in my chest at his words—a tightening that’s almost painful.
“I’m all in here. Have been for months.” He squeezes my hand. “But we don’t need to do anything crazy to control this narrative.”
“What are you suggesting?” I ask, sitting back down beside him.
“Let’s just have a public date. A normal dinner at a restaurant we both like.
Not some hidden corner table—a visible spot where people might recognize us.
” Theo’s eyes never leave mine. “No press conference announcing you’re bisexual.
No Instagram post declaring your coming out. Just us, being us, in public.”
“You think that’s enough?”
“The point isn’t to make a statement. It’s admission without drawing attention to it.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “We act like there’s nothing unusual about it—because there isn’t. Two people who care about each other, having dinner.”
I consider his words. There’s a simplicity to it that appeals to me. No grand gestures, no dramatic announcements. Just stepping into the light instead of hiding in the shadows.
“We don’t need to wear rainbow flags or make out across the table,” he adds with a small smile. “Just be seen together. Hold my hand if you want. The rest will follow naturally.”
I feel myself nodding before I’ve consciously decided. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His eyebrows rise slightly.
“Yeah. Dinner. Public.” I take a deep breath. “I can do that.”
“Dinner. Public. Together.” The words sound strange coming from my mouth after months of hiding, but they feel right. Like I’m finally exhaling after holding my breath for too long.
Theo’s smile slowly breaks across his face, transforming his features. It’s not the cocky smirk I’m used to—this is something softer, more vulnerable. He reaches up to touch my face, his fingers tracing my jawline with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.
“Thank you,” he whispers, and the pure emotion in his voice knocks the air from my lungs.
I turn my face to press my lips against his palm. “Don’t thank me for something I should have done months ago.”
We move toward each other like magnets, my hands finding his waist as his arms wrap around my neck.
The kiss isn’t hungry or desperate like so many before—it’s tender, unhurried, as if we have all the time in the world.
I feel something crack open inside me, walls I didn’t even know I’d built crumbling to dust.
I lift him, cradling him against my chest as I carry him to the bedroom. His weight feels right in my arms, like he belongs there.
On his bed, I undress him slowly, reverently, mapping every inch of his skin with my hands and mouth. His body responds to my touch with eagerness, but there’s something different in his eyes tonight—a shadow I can’t quite read.
When I finally push inside him, the sensation nearly overwhelms me. I’ve been with him countless times before, but this feels new—like we’re truly seeing each other for the first time. I move slowly, deliberately, watching his face for every flicker of pleasure.
“Look at me,” I whisper, and his eyes open, dark and fathomless.
He’s with me, around me, responding to every thrust and touch, but I catch moments when his gaze seems distant, like he’s bracing himself for something. His hands clutch at my back with an almost desperate intensity, as if he’s trying to hold onto something that’s slipping away.
I kiss him deeper, trying to pull him back to me, to anchor us both in this moment. His body arches into mine, but I feel the subtle tension in his muscles—not from pleasure, but from some unspoken worry.
I gaze down at Theo beneath me, watching his face transform with pleasure. Sweat glistens on his skin, his curls damp against his forehead. There’s something powerful about being with him that I’ve never experienced with anyone else—this blend of dominance and vulnerability.
“I can’t get enough of this—of you,” I whisper, my voice rough. “The way you feel around me, the sounds you make. It’s... everything.”
Theo’s lips curve into that smile that always undoes me. His hands slide up my chest, fingertips tracing the ridges of muscle.
“You know what I keep thinking about?” I slow my pace, grinding deeper. “That night in the mirror room. Your birthday.”
His eyes darken with recognition. “When I fucked you?”
“Yeah.” The memory sends heat rushing through me. “I want that again. Tonight. Want you inside me.”
Theo’s breath catches. “You sure? It’s only been—”
“I’m sure.” I’ve never been more certain of anything. “I want to feel you everywhere. Want to give you everything.”
Without warning, I flip us, pulling Theo on top of me. His smaller frame settles against mine, and I spread my legs, making room for him between them.
“Like this,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “Face to face.”
Theo reaches for the lube on the nightstand, his movements deliberate as he coats his fingers. When he reaches between us, I tense instinctively before forcing myself to relax.
“Breathe for me,” he murmurs, working one finger inside me with careful patience.
I close my eyes, surrendering to the unfamiliar sensation. By the time he adds a second finger, I’m pushing back against his hand, seeking more.
“That’s it,” Theo encourages, finding that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. “Just like that.”
When he finally pushes inside, the stretch burns in the most exquisite way. I grip his hips, urging him deeper.
“Fuck, Victor,” he groans, bottoming out inside me. “You feel incredible.”
Theo rocks into me with steady, deep strokes, his rhythm building like a well crafted beat. My body burns with the stretch of him inside me—still unfamiliar, still overwhelming. It’s only the second time I’ve ever let him do this, but the sensation of fullness, of surrender, ignites a fire in me.
“Fuck, you’re so tight around me,” he pants, sweat beading on his forehead. His eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide. “You like this, don’t you? Taking my cock like you were made for it.”
I grip his ass, pulling him deeper, wanting more. “Harder,” I command, my voice barely recognizable. “Don’t hold back.”
Theo’s pace turns savage. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with our harsh breathing. He angles his hips and hits something inside me that sends white-hot pleasure coursing through my veins.
“Fuck! There—right there,” I growl, my cock jerking untouched against my stomach.
“You’re mine, Victor,” Theo says, his voice thick with emotion. “All of you. Not just when we’re hidden away.”
He reaches between us, wrapping his fingers around my cock. The dual stimulation—his hand stroking me, his cock hitting my prostate—pushes me toward the edge.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he promises, his rhythm faltering as his own release approaches. “Fill you up completely. Would you like that, Daddy?”
The filthy words combined with that name on his lips shove me over the edge. My back arches as I come in thick ropes across my abs, my body clenching around him. The intensity of the orgasm blindsides me, tearing a shout from my throat.
“Fuck, I feel you squeezing me,” Theo gasps, driving in one final time. “Taking my cum. Taking all of me.”
His hips stutter as he empties himself inside me, his face a beautiful mask of pleasure. Even through my haze, I memorize every detail—the flutter of his eyelashes, the parting of his lips, the flush spreading across his chest.
As we both come down, he collapses onto my chest and licks up all my spilt cum from it, still buried inside me. Our lips find each other in a deep, languid kiss that speaks volumes more than words ever could. I taste myself on his tongue, and the intimacy of it—of all of this—nearly breaks me.