A Versatile Bet
Sunday afternoon found Frank at his parents’ house on the outskirts of Munich, sleeves rolled up as he helped his father trim the overgrown hedges in the backyard garden. The older couple had invited him for lunch, and Frank had shown up with fresh flowers for his mother and a willingness to tackle the chores they could no longer manage easily. It felt good, this simple family time, something he had neglected for years while burying himself in work and runs. His phone buzzed in his pocket while he paused to wipe sweat from his brow. He pulled it out and smiled at the screen.
Marc: How is the garden duty going? Missing you already.
Frank: Brutal. My dad still thinks I am twelve and need supervision with the shears. But the lunch was excellent. You?
Marc: Just unpacked the last box in my apartment. Feels official now. Hey, I have an idea for tomorrow’s run. A little bet to make it interesting.
Frank leaned against the garden shed, thumbs moving across the screen. He could already picture Marc’s easy grin.
Frank: I am listening.
Marc: Race up the Olympiaberg in the Olympic Park. Straight to the top. First one there wins. If I win, I get to top you. Finally show you what this bottom can do when he switches things up.
Frank stared at the message, stunned. He had never once considered that Marc might be versatile. The younger man had always presented as a clear bottom, eager and responsive under Frank’s hands. And even if he was vers, Frank knew the Olympiaberg was a steep climb. Marc had kept pace on their flat park loops, but this was different. Frank was faster, stronger on hills. He typed back quickly.
Frank: You are serious? I did not think you were vers. And you know I will smoke you on that hill, right?
Marc: Try me. Deal?
Frank chuckled under his breath, the idea sparking a low heat in his stomach despite the certainty of victory. He liked this confident side of Marc.
Frank: Deal. But if you lose, you wear something ridiculous for the next three weeks every time we run together. My choice.
Marc: Bring it on, old man.
Frank slipped the phone back into his pocket, a rare grin lingering on his face as he returned to the hedge. The bet felt playful, light, the kind of thing that would have been impossible a month ago. He was changing. And it felt right.
Monday morning at the office, the difference in Frank was impossible to miss. He arrived early, suit crisp but his posture more relaxed, and moved through the open workspace with purpose. The first person he sought out was Chris.
He stopped at Chris’s desk, hands in his pockets. “Hey, Chris. Got a minute?”
Chris looked up from his dual monitors, surprised. “Sure, Frank. What is up?”
Frank pulled up a chair and sat. “I noticed the fantasy novel on your desk last week. The one with the dragon riders and the shadow war. I am on book four of the same series right now. That last plot twist with the ancient relic had me up half the night.”
Chris’s eyes lit up. “No way. You read it too? I just finished book five over the weekend. The way the author handles the political intrigue is insane.”
They talked for a solid twenty minutes, voices animated as they compared favorite characters and debated theories for the upcoming finale. Frank laughed at one of Chris’s jokes, a real laugh that carried across the floor. Emily glanced over from her desk, eyebrows raised in quiet amazement.
Later that morning Frank caught Emily in the small conference room after she finished presenting her latest supplier efficiency report. He closed the door gently and leaned against the table.
“That report was excellent, Emily,” he said, voice sincere. “The way you broke down the logistics bottlenecks actually taught me something. I adopted your forecasting model into my own workflow for the BMW pitch. Saved me hours. Thank you.”
Emily blinked, clearly taken aback. “Really? I mean, thank you, Frank. I just thought it made sense.”
“It did,” Frank replied. “More than you know. Keep pushing like that. The team needs your discipline.”
She smiled, a genuine one that reached her eyes. “Will do.”
The biggest conversation came right before lunch when Frank pulled Josh aside near the coffee machine. He kept his voice low but steady.
“Josh, I wanted to thank you properly. That talk in my office last week. You were right. I was pushing Marc away because I was scared. You called me on my bullshit, and it woke me up. I owe you.”
Josh studied him for a second, then broke into a wide grin. “Damn, Frank. Look at you actually saying the words. I am seriously happy for you, man. For both of you. Just do not screw it up again. If you slip back into asshole mode, I will personally make sure the whole division knows exactly how soft you really are under that suit. And I have receipts.”
Frank chuckled. “Fair warning. I will not let it happen.”
Josh clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go be the decent boss we all secretly knew was in there somewhere.”
By the end of the workday, the energy in the division felt lighter, almost buoyant. Marc had watched the changes from his desk with quiet pride, but as the clock ticked toward five he could not resist sending Frank a private Slack message.
Marc: So, power bottom training starts tomorrow? I have been thinking about how I am going to bend you over and make you moan my name. You ready for that, boss?
Frank read the message at his desk and felt heat creep up his neck. He typed back quickly, keeping his face neutral for anyone who might glance over.
Frank: Keep talking like that and we will not make it to the run. Behave until we get to the locker room.
Marc: No promises.
They met at the basement locker room right after work, the space empty except for the two of them. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the tension snapped. Frank pushed Marc against the row of lockers, mouth crashing down in a heated kiss while his hands roamed under Marc’s shirt, palms sliding over warm skin and trimmed blond body hair.
“Been thinking about this all day,” Frank growled against Marc’s lips. “You teasing me about topping me. Fuck, it has me half hard already.”
Marc moaned softly, hands gripping Frank’s tie as he kissed back just as hungrily. “Good. Because I am going to wreck you tomorrow. Slow and deep until you are begging.”
Their bodies pressed tight, cocks hardening against each other through their clothes. Frank’s large bulge rubbed insistently against Marc’s average one, the friction delicious. They were seconds from stripping each other when the locker room door swung open.
Josh and Chris walked in, already in casual clothes and carrying running bags. Josh stopped short, taking in the scene with wide eyes before a wicked grin split his face.
“Well, well,” he drawled. “Looks like the running group has upgraded to a private show. Should we come back later, or are we all just going to pretend we did not see the boss with his tongue down the new guy’s throat?”
Frank pulled back instantly, cheeks faintly flushed, but he did not look ashamed. He straightened his tie with a low chuckle. “You two have terrible timing.”
Chris stood there blinking, clearly processing. “Wait. You guys are… together? Like, actually together?”
Marc laughed, adjusting his shirt. “Surprise.”
Before anyone could say more, Emily poked her head in from the hallway. “I am changing in the women’s side, but I heard you all in here. I am joining the run today too. Apparently there is some big battle happening?”
Josh clapped his hands together. “Hell yes. The whole team is in. We heard about the bet. No way we are missing this.”
They changed quickly, the mood light and filled with teasing banter. Marc caught Frank’s eye across the benches and winked. Frank shook his head, smiling despite himself.
The five of them set off together toward the Olympic Park, keeping an easy, conversational pace instead of the usual hard push. The route wound through Munich’s streets, the group chatting and laughing the entire way. Emily asked Frank about his garden project with his parents. Chris and Frank swapped more fantasy book theories. Josh cracked jokes about the spicy locker room situation. It felt like more than a running group. It felt like a real team, bonded and easy in a way it had never been before.
At the base of the Olympiaberg, the grassy hill rising steeply under the evening sky, Emily took charge with a grin. “All right, rules are simple. Straight up the main path to the top. First one there wins the bet. Josh already took the shortcut to the summit so he can watch and declare the winner fairly. No cheating. Ready?”
They lined up at the starting point. Frank rolled his shoulders, confident. Marc bounced lightly on his toes, looking relaxed.
“Ready,” Frank said.
“Set,” Emily called.
“Go!”
Marc exploded forward like a sprinter off the blocks. His lean athletic legs powered up the steep incline with effortless strength, stride long and efficient. Frank pushed hard, muscles burning, but within the first thirty seconds he realized the truth. Marc was not just keeping up. He was pulling ahead. Fast. The younger man’s years of serious running, the half marathons he had mentioned so casually, the hidden speed he had been holding back every single run in the Englischer Garten, all of it showed now. Marc climbed the hill like he had been born for it, breathing steady, form perfect.
Frank gave everything he had, calves screaming, lungs burning, but Marc crested the top a full twenty seconds ahead, barely winded. Josh stood at the summit, phone in hand, eyes wide.
“Holy shit,” Josh called out. “Marc wins by a mile. Frank, you just got absolutely dusted.”
At the top Marc turned, chest rising and falling evenly, a bright grin on his face. Frank reached him moments later, sweat dripping down his temples, breathing hard.
“Wow,” Frank panted, hands on his knees. “You fooled me. You were holding back the whole time and now you showed how strong you really are.”
Marc stepped closer, voice soft but warm as the others caught up behind them. “Well, so did you? You fooled all of us. You were holding back the nice person the whole time, and now you are showing how beautiful you are on the inside.”
The words landed gently between them. Frank straightened, hazel eyes meeting Marc’s with something deep and grateful. The rest of the team cheered and clapped, the moment light but meaningful.
They walked back toward the office together as the sun dipped lower, the group still buzzing with laughter and stories. Marc fell into step beside Frank, their shoulders brushing.
Looking forward to topping you tomorrow, he said under his breath with a wink. You better prepare.
Frank’s mouth curved into a slow, heated smile. “I will be ready, Fischer. Count on it.”
The bet had been won, but as the team laughed and talked on the way back, it felt like everyone had won something bigger. A real team. A changed boss. And for Marc and Frank, the promise of something even hotter waiting just around the corner.
... To be continued
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