Recap: Jesse’s first week working with Dominic, the new contractor, turns into something he never expected. Dominic's presence overwhelms him from day one, especially the raw, musky scent that clings to him when he kicks off his shoes or stretches. Jesse tries to stay focused on the project, but every subtle brush, whiff, and command from Dominic pulls him deeper into a strange, thrilling submission.
By Friday, Dominic clearly notices Jesse’s reactions and begins testing him with small, deliberate orders. Jesse obeys without thinking, more drawn in each time. When Dominic invites him over for drinks after work, Jesse follows, fully aware he’s stepping into something he can’t resist.
(Jesse's POV)
Carrying Dominic's bag through the doorway, my hands felt clammy, my pulse quickening in a way I did not understand. The apartment smelled faintly of leather and a faint tang of city air, but there was something else..a lingering, deep scent that felt almost alive.
“Set it on the coffee table,” he said without looking up. His voice was calm, but the quiet authority in it made me obey instinctively, like a reflex. I placed the bag down, trying not to tremble.
Dominic lowered himself onto the couch with a long, effortless stretch, the muscles in his shoulders flexing under the thin fabric of his polo. His legs spread, claiming the space around him, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. He leaned back, a soft sigh escaping him.
“Jesse,” he said after a moment, that casual drawl carrying an unmistakable edge. “Grab a couple of beers from the fridge, yeah?”
I nodded quickly, almost forgetting to breathe, and moved toward the kitchen. The hum of the fridge was the only sound as I selected two cans, hands shaking just slightly.
I returned and handed him the cans, trying to avoid noticing how close I had to lean, how the warmth of his arm brushed against mine. “Thanks buddy,” he said, and the subtle approval in his tone sent a ripple through me. I took a seat beside him, careful to maintain some space, though my gaze kept returning to his posture, his presence, the commanding way he occupied the room.
As he leaned back on the couch again, he kicked off his shoes with a soft thud. The scent that poured from them was immediate, strong, musky, and overwhelming in a way that made my chest tighten. It was the smell of long hours, of movement and effort, of a man entirely in his own skin and unaware of how powerful that awareness was. My throat went dry. I tried to focus on the blueprints, on the numbers, but each inhale drew in more of that raw, tangible presence.
Dominic flexed his legs slightly, the bottoms of his feet brushing the floor as if testing the space, settling fully into the couch with a casual ease that made it impossible not to notice. I swallowed hard, trying to pretend my attention was on the diagrams, though I knew it was nowhere near them. His scent filled the air around me, rich and layered, and for the first time I felt a strange, almost magnetic pull..not toward him in any conventional way, but toward being near him, inhaling, observing, obeying.
He ran a hand through his hair, stretching again, and I caught the faint trace of sweat on the fabric of his shirt, on the slight dark of chest hair, and the powerful aura of someone entirely sure of himself. “You following, Jesse?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice tighter than I meant it. “I’m… I’m following.”
“Good.” His small smile carried weight, a quiet approval that made my chest ache. “Pay attention. This is how you get things right. Trust the person showing you.”
I nodded, my stomach twisting. Trust him? I barely understood why I wanted to be here like this, sitting beside him, caught between professional duty and the strange craving for his presence.
Time passed in a slow rhythm of diagrams, explanations, and quiet commands. Every time he shifted, stretched, or leaned, the scent seemed to grow heavier, wrapping around me in waves. It was musky, warm and addictive. I found myself leaning closer without realizing it, eyes flicking to his arms, his shoulders, the curve of his chest beneath the polo, the faint dark hair brushing the fabric. Every gesture drew me deeper into a kind of anxious fascination, my mind scrambling to rationalize what I could not name.
At one point, he shifted his legs again, kicking one ankle over the other and then stretching his feet out toward the coffee table. The scent rose again, richer now, stronger, undeniably commanding. My pulse spiked, not with fear, but with a strange, overwhelming awareness of him, of his authority, of the effortless way he dominated a room without moving a muscle.
He reached over briefly, adjusting a corner of the diagram I had aligned imperfectly. His hand brushed mine, heavy, warm, certain. I felt myself tense, heart racing, and swallowed hard. “Better?” he asked, his voice calm, yet carrying the unmistakable weight of expectation.
“Yes,” I murmured, cheeks hot.
I shifted slightly, heart hammering, trying to focus, trying to breathe, trying to stay professional but every inhale of Dominic's scent drew me deeper into his orbit, every glance toward him made my chest ache. And even as he spoke, even as he gestured at the plans, I knew I was noticing more than just the work. I was noticing him…how he claimed the space, how he smelled, how he moved. And the truth of it made my stomach twist: I wanted it. I wanted all of it.
He stretched one final time, letting out a low sigh that seemed to reverberate through the room. The couch groaned under his weight, but it was the subtle sound of authority, a presence that seemed to settle into every corner of the apartment. My eyes kept flicking toward his shoes, placed carelessly on the floor. The leather smelled faintly of damp streets, sweat, and raw masculinity, a scent that made my chest tighten and stomach twist. It was intoxicating in a way I could not explain, a mixture of sweat, exertion, and the unspoken dominance that seemed to exude from him naturally.
Then he shifted, leaning forward and glancing down at himself as if noticing the sweat collecting at the back of his neck and under his arms. “Damn… I am really sweaty,” he muttered, stretching his arms over his head again. “I think I’m going to change,” he said casually, rising from the couch. “Can’t work like this.”
There was no hesitation in his voice, only the calm, commanding tone of someone used to being obeyed without question. My gaze followed him instinctively, tracking every step as he moved toward his room.
His shoes remained on the floor, the scent radiating now like a silent challenge. My eyes betrayed me, drawn to them once more, and before I knew what I was doing, I picked up his shoes and leaned my face in just slightly, a tentative inhale catching the musky, worn leather and the faint tang of Dominic's musky scent. My stomach clenched violently, and a flush crept across my cheeks. What the hell am I doing? I thought, heart hammering, lungs suddenly aware of every molecule in the air.
And then.. Within a minute, he was back.
Dominic's dark eyes caught mine, sharp and unyielding, and that small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “What are you doing, Jesse?” His voice was low, steady, carrying the weight of someone who knew precisely what he was seeing, precisely what effect it had. My heart stopped, a jolt of panic and arousal mixing into a molten heat that left me dizzy.
“Dominic… I… I was just…” I choked on my words, but the words felt meaningless as his gaze pinned me in place. The scent hit me full force, waves of musky, sweaty leather and the faint, sharp tang of his feet filling my nostrils. It made my stomach clench, my cock twitch, pressing insistently against my pants. My pulse thundered in my ears, hot and shivering, and I realized with panic and shame that the smell was doing things to me…stirring something I had never admitted, never even imagined.
He took a slow step toward me with his lingering aroma wrapping around me, thick and intoxicating. Each inhale burned in my chest, dizzying and addictive, pulling me closer even as my mind tried to push it away. His presence was magnetic, the power in his stride undeniable, hips shifting slightly with each measured step.
He reached the couch, arms stretching lazily above his head, and I felt my eyes glued to the way his broad shoulders filled the tank top, taut muscles flexing under the fabric. His biceps curved with effortless strength, veins tracing paths across the warm, tanned skin. Chest hair peeked over the neckline, dark and thick, glistening faintly from sweat. Every detail made my stomach tighten and my cock throb. I could not look away, not that I wanted to.
He sank onto the sofa, legs spreading just enough to occupy the space, the raw masculinity in his posture commanding the room. Shorts hugged his thighs, muscles defined and firm, the faint dark trail of hair visible at the edge teasing my imagination. His gaze flicked toward me, sharp and assessing, dark eyes catching mine.
“You like the smell, don’t you, boy?” His voice was low, dominant, teasing yet firm. The words hit me like a physical blow, shivering down my spine, igniting a strange, shameful thrill. My cock jerked painfully against my pants, body betraying me, heart hammering.
I could barely nod, words caught in my throat, chest tight, mind spinning. Every inch of him…the scent, the muscles, the effortless authority had me trapped. I wanted to obey, to move closer, to breathe him in more, and somehow, I knew he knew it.
The air between us pulsed, thick with musk, heat, and unspoken command. My eyes darted down at his feet on the coffee table, then up to his chest, shoulders, biceps. I was completely exposed to him, and yet powerless to look away.
He shifted slightly, spreading out on the sofa, letting the scent of sweat, skin, and the faint tang of leather curl around me. His dark eyes caught mine, sharp and assessing, and then a slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face.
“Come on over here, take a good whiff,” he said, his voice low, dominant, teasing. He wiggled his toes casually. My chest tightened, cock pressing insistently against my pants, mind scrambling.
I swallowed hard, frozen between shame and a deep, craving fascination, utterly aware of the pull he had over me. His smirk widened as he watched, letting me stew in the scent, the authority, the undeniable power of the alpha.
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