Page 6 of The Titan and the Trainer

Julian stepped back, almost as if he checked himself. The CEO mask slid quickly back into place, though his eyes remained dark with hunger. “You have a shift to get to. I have work to do.”

He drops his guard at times but never seems to fully let it down, Callum thought to himself. “Right, yes, the shower,” he said, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed sand. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, his fingers white-knuckled tight on the strap. “I’ll see you next week. Let me know which days suit you best.”

Julian watched him walk towards the door, his gaze lingering on the swing of Callum’s hips. “Will do. Go get washed up, Callum. Floor forty-eight.”

Callum headed to the elevator, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird and his dick hammering uncomfortably rock hard in his shorts, straining for release.

***

The executive showers on the forty-eighth floor were as expected, a modern sanctuary of glass, slate and oversized rainfall showerheads. The air smelled of eucalyptus and freshly laundered towels.

Callum stripped quickly, his clothes hitting the floor in a heap. He stepped into the first stall. The water was instantly scalding as it hit his back, but it did nothing to cool the fire Julian had started upstairs. Every time he closed his eyes he saw those grey joggers and the bulge they contained. He saw the green eyes, the way Julian had bitten his lip, the raw hunger in a man who spent his life behind a desk. He wanted to know him. He wanted to help him find himself. He just wanted him, period.

He nervously checked to make sure no one else was around, then leaned his forehead against the cool stone wall, his hand naturally drifting down. He had been hard when he got into the shower and had stayed that way the whole time. The friction of the soap, the heat of the steam and the memory of Julian’s lower back and that friendly punch were too much.

He groaned into the spray. He was going to have to wank, but he didn’t really have time for this. His movements were urgent and rapid as he imagined Julian’s hand, not his own, around his dick. What he thought would take a while was actually over in a matter of minutes. Finished, he slumped against the glass, exhausted, his breath ragged as the suds swirled the evidence down the drain.

After drying himself with one of the world’s fluffiest towels, minutes later he was standing in front of the mirror, transforming himself for go-go.

It was now time for him to play a role, wear a mask, and for the Callum who trained CEOs to disappear. He took his club gear out of the holdall. This consisted of his leather harness, codpiece leather shorts, white socks and Doc Martens. He started putting on the leather harness, a somewhat complicated contraption with straps and buckles. He’d left it pretty much set up so he could just lower it over his shoulders. The metal O-ring sat right in the centre of his sternum, suddenly cold against his flushed skin.

The challenge was the linked cock ring at the bottom of the longest strap. It hung all the way down his chest and abdomen, the idea being that you put your junk through it for maximum bulge. He laughed quietly to himself, the sound echoing in the vast bathroom, thinking about Julian’s bulge. Maybe with this on he could compete? This wasn’t a good thought; he was already getting hard again.

He struggled to get it on, still semi-engorged from jacking off moments earlier. Think of nuns, think of nuns, not Julian Newman. He managed, after a little uncomfortable manoeuvring, to squeeze himself into the cold metal ring. Leather shorts on next. These were also a feat of engineering, with a built-in codpiece that could flip off at the release of four press studs, and a zipper in the rear. The shorts went on easily and he was quite impressed by the bulge he was displaying tonight. This would drive the gays wild, and tips would be good.

He hadn’t bought any other sweatshirt or joggers, and his were so sweaty that he didn’t want to put either back on. He decided to chance it and stuffed both into his holdall along with his other clothes. He just wore his oversized trench coat to cover the outfit for the subway ride. He started to fasten the buttons from the bottom up but didn’t go all the way to the top, aware that he was already so late.

He used his card in the elevator to go back downstairs, his heart still thrumming from the shower and the prospect of a bit of dancing. His mind was elsewhere as the doors opened into the sleek, darkened lobby, so much so that he almost collided with a figure walking toward the exit.

Julian.

***

The CEO had changed back into a suit and a crisp white shirt, no tie, his collar open. He stopped dead, his eyes widening as he took in Callum’s appearance and the heavy bag on his shoulder.

“I thought you’d be long gone by now,” Julian said, his voice echoing in the empty lobby.

“Just finished up,” Callum said, trying to pull the edges of his coat together, but the movement only caused the trench coat to flare wide open.

The lobby’s security lights caught the shiny black leather and silver studs of the harness against the contrast of Callum’s flushed skin. Julian’s gaze dropped instantly. He froze, his eyes tracing the line of the leather strap as it crossed Callum’s pectorals, disappearing under the coat. He looked at the metal ring, then down at the leather shorts that clung to Callum’s thighs.

The silence was thick enough to choke on. Julian swallowed hard, his professional poise finally, utterly shattered. He didn’t look shocked; he looked fascinated, mesmerised.

“That’s…” Julian started, his voice cracking. He stepped closer, his hand twitching at his side as if he wanted to reach out and tug on one of those leather straps. “That’s your second job?”

Callum felt a bold, reckless heat rise in his chest. He didn’t immediately pull the coat shut. Instead, he stood a little taller, his go-go persona bleeding into this reality. “I told you, Julian, not everyone has a corner office. Some of us have to dance for our tips.”

Julian’s eyes snapped back to Callum’s, dark and dilated. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, peering down at something he knew would destroy him but still wanting to jump anyway.

“Where?” Julian whispered, voice raspy. “Where is this?”

“The Vault,” Callum said over his shoulder as he headed towards the revolving glass doors, a challenge in his smirk. “But it’s a long way from Broadway, Julian. I don’t think you’d fit in.”

Julian watched through the glass, looking like he’d seen either a ghost or salvation.

***

The revolving door slowed to a stop behind Callum, leaving Julian standing in the silent, amber-lit lobby. He remained there for a long minute; the image of that leather harness burned into his retinas.