Elias had hoped that leaving the penthouse after that first encounter would grant him some reprieve. He had been wrong.
By the time he arrived at his apartment, the city below glittering like a thousand indifferent stars, the memory of Damien Blackwood's presence clung to him. Every movement, every word, every slow, deliberate gaze replayed in his mind. He had thought himself immune to charm, to manipulation, to lust disguised as control. Yet the older man had a way of weaving dominance into every gesture, every syllable, that left him raw, vulnerable, and achingly aware of his own desires.
Elias sank onto the edge of his bed, running a hand over his face. He hated himself for the way his body had betrayed him in that office, the way his chest had tightened when Damien's hand had lifted his chin. He hated the way he had lingered under the older man's gaze, like prey fascinated by the predator circling closer. And yet… he wanted more.
More than he wanted to admit.
The phone on his nightstand buzzed. A message from Damien. Short. Controlled. Precise.
"Don't think the first encounter counted as victory. I will see you tomorrow. Prepare yourself."
Elias froze. A thrill ran through him, sharp and unexpected. Even in text, Damien's presence commanded attention. Every word a warning, every sentence a promise. And that promise. unspoken, palpable. made him ache in ways he wasn't ready to face.
The next morning arrived too soon. Elias dressed carefully, choosing the outfit that balanced professionalism with the subtle edge Damien seemed to notice in him
fitted blazer, tailored shirt, just enough silk showing at the cuffs to tease without revealing. Every detail mattered, because Damien noticed everything.
By the time he reached the Blackwood Tower, Elias was aware of every inch of the city below, of the glass walls reflecting sunlight that could not hide the shadows in his own pulse. Damien was waiting, as always, at the top of the elevator. That sharp smile, the intensity in his gray eyes, made Elias's resolve crumble slightly with each passing second.
"Late again," Damien said, voice low and clipped. He didn't move, letting the words hang between them like a whip poised to strike.
"I'm… not late," Elias said, but the words were weak, defensive. Damien's presence made it impossible to command the room; all he could do was navigate the tension with careful steps.
Damien tilted his head, a slow, deliberate gesture. "You underestimate me," he said, his tone cutting through Elias's mind like a scalpel. "And yet, you still came. That's… obedience. Or perhaps curiosity. Which do you think it is?"
Elias's throat went dry. "Maybe a little of both," he admitted, the words tasting dangerous as they left his lips.
Damien's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. He took a step closer. The air seemed to compress, the room smaller, hotter. "Curiosity can be… dangerous," he murmured. His gaze swept over Elias, pausing, inspecting, evaluating. "I find it… irresistible."
Elias felt the words in his bones. Every nerve fired as if on cue. He wanted to hate Damien. He wanted to resist. Yet each measured step, each teasing glance, made him ache for more more attention, more control, more of the dangerous pull that Damien wielded like a weapon.
The day's meetings blurred past. Damien's office was a maze of shadows and light, glass walls, and silk curtains, every inch of the room designed to assert power and command attention. Elias navigated the space carefully, aware of the faint brush of Damien's hand when papers were handed, the lingering presence that never allowed him a moment of solitude. Every encounter was a battle of wills, a test of restraint, a slow dance of dominance and submission.
When the workday ended, Damien didn't release him. Not yet. "Stay," he said, his tone effortless, a simple word that carried weight, authority, and the unspoken promise of more.
Elias obeyed.
The penthouse at night was different. Shadows wrapped around the furniture, silk draped over surfaces, reflecting the soft city glow in pools of light and darkness. Damien approached, deliberate, measured, letting Elias feel the pull of his presence before any touch, letting the heat of proximity become unbearable.
"You're dangerous," Damien said softly, voice low, magnetic. "You think you can resist me, but you can't. And the more you try, the more you'll want me."
Elias's lips parted, breath hitching. "And you?" he whispered, the question loaded with challenge, defiance, and curiosity.
Damien's gaze dropped, slow, calculated. "I always get what I want," he said, stepping closer. The space between them shrank to inches. Elias felt the silk of Damien's suit brush his arm, the warmth of his body so close it was almost unbearable. "And you," he added, "will want me too."
Elias swallowed hard. "You think so?"
Damien's smile was sharp, predatory. "I know so," he said. Every word, every breath, every glance was a lesson in control. He let his hand hover near Elias's shoulder not touching yet, but close enough that the anticipation was almost cruel. "The question is… how long will it take you to admit it?"
The younger man's pulse hammered in response, a mix of fear, desire, and the magnetic pull of something he couldn't name. Fifteen years, fifteen years of experience, fifteen years of knowing exactly how to unravel a man Damien Blackwood's age was not a distance. It was leverage. And Elias felt it in every fiber of his being.
Hours passed like minutes. Damien didn't rush, didn't force, didn't allow relief. The slow burn of proximity, the teasing, the unrelenting tension, created a heat that was almost unbearable. Every glance, every touch that didn't happen, every word was a calculated act of dominance and control. Elias felt himself unraveling under it, and he hated how much he wanted it.
By the end of the night, when Damien finally allowed him a moment to breathe, Elias realized something undeniable. He wasn't safe. He wasn't in control. And yet… he wanted more. He wanted the chase, the tension, the danger. He wanted Damien to push him, to claim him in ways he couldn't yet admit.
Damien watched him, eyes sharp, calculating, predatory. "You think you can escape me," he said softly, voice low, "but you're already mine. Every step, every glance, every heartbeat belongs to me now."
Elias's breath caught. "Mine?"
Damien's smile was slow, deliberate, sharp. "Yes," he said. "And you will learn to like it."
And as the younger man sank into the plush leather chair, his body trembling with heat, tension, and desire, he realized just how right Damien Blackwood was. Resistance was useless. Obedience and something darker, something infinitely more thrilling was inevitable.
The war between them had just begun.
But for the first time, Elias didn't want to win.