Tyrone had just finished a set of pushups—sweat glistening on his bare, bulging chest—when the knock came. Not the usual buzz of the intercom. Not the chime of a visitor with pre-approved access.
A knock.
Slow. Deliberate.
He stood, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his jaw. His penthouse was cast in the golden orange of dusk, shadows slipping over his hardwood floors as he strode toward the door, barefoot and curious.
When he opened it, he froze.
Daniel Renner.
Tall. Late 30s. Square-jawed. Cool as ever. Dressed in a charcoal-gray designer suit with the tie loosened, and that same sharp intensity in his steel-blue eyes.
Tyrone hadn’t seen Daniel in almost two years. Not since that fateful Acura Industries merger conference where they’d spent three sleepless nights arguing, negotiating… and sharing hotel gym workouts that ended with lingering stares and too-close showers.
Daniel had always been straight.
At least, he’d claimed.
“Renner,” Tyrone said evenly.
Daniel looked at him like a man trying not to drown.
“You always open the door half-naked?”
“Only for ghosts.”
Daniel gave a crooked smile. “I was in the city. Didn’t call ahead. Figured you’d prefer the element of surprise.”
Tyrone stepped aside. “You figured right.”
Daniel entered, eyes scanning the luxury and taste that saturated Tyrone’s space—glass, leather, steel, and wood. And scent—that rich, carnal blend of oud, sweat, and something uniquely Tyrone.
“Still smells like victory in here,” Daniel muttered.
“No. That’s just my skin.”
They stood facing each other. The air charged.
Tyrone broke the silence. “You here for business?”
Daniel exhaled, jaw tightening. “No. Not really.”
The room went still.
Then Daniel stepped forward. “I never stopped thinking about it.”
Tyrone raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about what?”
“Stockholm. The gym. The way you looked at me in the mirror.”
Tyrone crossed his arms. His biceps bulged. “You left before I could ask what that meant.”
“I was scared,” Daniel said plainly. “And if I’m being honest—jealous. You walked around knowing exactly who you are. I was still pretending.”
“Are you done pretending now?”
Daniel nodded slowly. “I came here to find out.”
The Unraveling
Tyrone closed the gap between them like a lion circling prey. His hand reached for Daniel’s collar and gripped it—firm, dominant. Daniel didn’t flinch. His breathing only deepened.
“You still work out,” Tyrone said, running a hand down the other man’s chest. “But I remember you being… tighter.”
Daniel smirked. “I’ve been stressed.”
Tyrone tilted his head. “Let me help with that.”
He kissed him.
Slowly at first. Testing. Then hungrily—lips parted, tongues tangling, heat surging like lightning in a storm. Daniel groaned, fists clenching the back of Tyrone’s neck as he surrendered to the contact he’d denied himself for years.
Tyrone lifted him—lifted—Daniel wrapping his legs around his waist instinctively as the world spun. Tyrone carried him to the black leather sofa, laid him down, and straddled him.
The kiss deepened. Grown men groaning, gasping, fingers tugging at buttons and belts and zippers until clothes were tossed aside in every direction.
Daniel’s chest was still broad and firm, peppered with dark hair that Tyrone dragged his tongue down slowly, enjoying every tremor and curse whispered under his breath.
“You’re so goddamn confident,” Daniel whispered.
“No,” Tyrone said, dragging his lips across Daniel’s inner thigh. “I just know what I want.”
And then he showed him.
Every inch. Every moan. Every shift of power.
He let Daniel feel what it meant to be under someone like Tyrone—commanding yet tender, strong yet attentive. They shifted positions—Daniel on his knees now, hands gripping the couch for support, Tyrone behind him, hand firm on his waist as he whispered filthy truths in his ear.
“Say it,” Tyrone demanded.
“I wanted this… I want this,” Daniel moaned. “I want you.”
Aftercare and Confessions
Afterward, they lay tangled on the couch, the sun fully set outside the windows. The city sparkled beneath them.
Daniel’s head rested on Tyrone’s chest. His fingers traced a lazy pattern over abs that felt like carved stone.
“I was wrong to run,” he said quietly.
Tyrone stroked his hair. “You were scared. It’s different now.”
Daniel looked up. “Does that mean… I can come back?”
Tyrone smirked. “We don’t do labels here. But you’re welcome in my bed… or on my couch… whenever you need to be.”
Daniel smiled. “I’ll need to be. Often.”
And the Night Isn’t Over Yet…
Tyrone’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Unknown Number: “You don’t know me yet. But I’ve heard everything about you. Let’s meet. I think I’m your type.”
Another surprise. Another mystery.
Tyrone cracked his neck and sat up, Daniel still draped across his lap.
The game wasn’t over.
It was just beginning.
***Think you can be my new pet? Send me a Tip and let’s see just how obedient you can be***
Now beg for me…
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