“Occupied,”I want to shout, but my voice is trapped in my throat.
“Not in there,” a woman’s voice says from the hallway. “This way.”
Footsteps fade. The hallway goes silent.
I exhale a shuddering breath, my shoulders slumping as adrenaline drains from my body. Theo tucks himself away, straightening his clothes in the darkness. When I try to stand, my legs shake beneath me. The throbbing arousal that consumed me seconds ago has vanished completely, killed by the close call.
“That was too fucking close,” I mutter, adjusting myself in pants that suddenly feel too spacious.
I watch Theo’s expression shift in the dim light. The playfulness drains from his face, replaced by something that makes my stomach twist.
“It’s not like anyone would recognize me with your cock down my throat,” I attempt to joke, but it falls flat.
Theo tucks in his shirt. “Would it really be the end of the world if someone saw us together?”
I busy myself adjusting my tie to avoid his eyes.
“You know it’s different for me,” I mutter.
“Is it?”
Something in his tone makes me look up. There’s hurt there, hurt he’s not quite hiding behind his usual confidence.
And suddenly I get it. For Theo, being caught with a man would mean nothing. His sexuality isn’t a secret; it’s just anotherfacet of who he is. Being found in a compromising position might be embarrassing, but not life-altering.
For me, it’s everything.
“My entire business is built on this image,” I say, gesturing vaguely at myself. “The tough guy. The alpha. The straight fight club owner who can knock someone out with one punch.”
The words sound hollow even as I say them. I’ve spent years crafting this persona—the hypermasculine ex-fighter who commands respect through strength and intimidation. Being discovered on my knees for another man doesn’t fit the narrative I’ve sold to everyone—my fighters, my sponsors, myself.
“Kaine’s Fight Club isn’t just a gym,” I continue, hearing the desperation creep into my voice. “It’s a brand. It’s who I am.”
But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m not sure that’s true anymore. Who I am has been shifting beneath my feet for months now, like sand washing away with the tide.
Theo’s eyes darken. He steps closer, his voice low but vibrating with intensity.
“I won’t be kept hidden forever, Victor.”
I open my mouth but find no response.
“I understand your business. I understand your image.” He straightens his tie with precise movements. “But I won’t spend my life hiding in closets and sneaking around like we’re doing something shameful.”
“Theo—”
“No.” He cuts me off with a raised hand. “You have a choice to make. Eventually, you’ll either need to move on and find someone you can tuck away forever, or you’ll decide that what we have is worth standing up for.”
My stomach twists. The unfairness of it burns in my chest—that I should have to choose between everything I’ve built and the one person who makes me feel alive. But looking at Theo’s face, the hurt no longer concealed behind his eyes, I realize I’vebeen asking him to make that same choice every day. And each time, he chooses me.
“This isn’t just sex anymore,” he continues, softer now. “And you know it.”
He’s right. What started as a physical obsession has become something else entirely—something that terrifies me far more than being caught on my knees in a supply closet.
“I need time,” I manage, hating how weak it sounds.
Theo’s expression hardens. “Time isn’t what you need, Victor. Courage is.”
He adjusts his cuffs and reaches for the door.
