Page 10 of The Titan and the Trainer

For the first time with Julian, he felt somewhat annoyed. He added over his shoulder, “I’ll wait for a message about next week.”

“Callum.”

Callum stopped and turned back. Julian was standing in the middle of the vast office space, looking somehow magnificently pumped and powerful, yet utterly alone.

“Thanks for tonight, that was our best session so far.”

Callum just nodded, choked and unable to find his voice, rooted in place. He wanted to say something, call out, admit his feelings, ask if Julian felt anything for him, but his throat was constricted tight. He couldn’t have spoken if he wanted to.

Julian’s back muscles were engorged from the exercises, and as he headed to his office he exhaled a long, ragged sigh as he peeled the soaked compression vest off over his head, discarding it on one of the nearby leather visitors’ chairs. The vest slid slowly off the seat, pooling in a pile on the floor beside it. This shirtless Julian gave Callum a spectacular view of his back, which was a perfect sea of muscle, glowing from their session.

Julian retreated to the sanctuary of his office.

Dare he?

Callum quietly tiptoed forward, dreading Julian’s return, and quickly made it across to the chair where the sweaty shirt lay on the floor. He picked it up. He sniffed it. It smelled of Julian’s scent.

Fuck it. Life is about taking risks he told himself as he stuffed it in his gym bag and scarpered.

With this memento of the session safely stowed in his bag he called the lift. He checked himself out in the mirror, expecting alarms to sound somehow and police to descend upon him.

He didn't feel like he’d just finished a workout; he felt like he’d been in a battle that was left unresolved. Was this guy playing with him? There seemed to be a real attraction; Callum was sure of that. But what was holding him back? He wanted Julian to act on his instinct, but Callum vowed not to make the first move. He was just a trainer; this guy was a CEO, a Titan of Industry. He had all the power here, but would he ever have the balls to actually wield it?

***

In the downstairs lobby, the elevator doors opened, waited, then closed once again. He couldn't leave, not like this.

The air between them had been too thick, the frustration too sharp to carry all the way back to Brooklyn. He needed to say something, anything, to either break the spell or finish it. Was this guy into him or not? He needed to know.

He jabbed the button for the 50th floor and rode the lift back up, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. When he stepped out, the main office suite was bathed in shadows, the only light coming from the moon outside.

“Julian?” he called out softly. No answer.

He crossed and walked past the chair where he’d taken the shirt, moving toward Julian’s corner office. He hadn’t seen inside before.. The office was large. Past the huge desk, a wall panel stood slightly ajar, a sleek, hidden doorway that led to another room. A sliver of warm, golden light spilled from it onto the carpet.

Callum tiptoed across and looked through the gap.

Then he heard it, a jagged, broken exhale.

A name, groaned with a desperation that made Callum’s blood turn to liquid fire.

“Callum.”

He peered in. He could see the end of a bed and another room with an open doorway leading to what must be a bathroom. Julian was visible, leaning against something marble, shirtless, shorts pulled down, eyes tightly shut, head tilted back, chest heaving. One hand was braced against the marble, knuckles white; the other was working his cock with a frantic and rhythmic intensity.

Julian wasn't the CEO in that moment. He wasn't a Titan of industry. He was just a man, horned up, undone and aching, his face contorted in a mask of pure agonised pleasure. He looked equally beautiful and destroyed.

Callum felt ashamed to look. This was an intensely private moment that shouldn’t be witnessed. He stepped back and checked around, but he was alone. He looked again; he somehow couldn’t help himself.

Julian’s cock was huge, curving upward in a graceful arc. Callum estimated it was probably seven inches around the girth at the base, and it was long. It was exceptional and somehow befitting of the man it was attached to.

Callum breathed consciously, quietly. He longed to cross the distance, kneel before him and take it in his warm mouth, and work it until its salty climax. He wanted to taste his cum. He could step inside, he could reach out, but the sheer intimacy of the moment, the private vulnerability of a man who never showed weakness, instead rooted him to the spot.

Callum wanted to stay and watch, maybe join in from a distance, but he couldn’t risk it. Shakily, he backed away on slow, silent feet, his trainers making no sound on the plush carpet. He tiptoed slowly on the marble floor and fled the office, skin crawling and aroused with a heat that was becoming unbearable.

He didn't go back down to the lobby. He hit the button for floor forty-eight.

The executive showers were empty, and he quickly pulled his shorts and briefs down, exposing his erection.