Prologue
The last of the mourners drifted out the front door, leaving the living room hushed in an awkward, grief-stricken silence. Flower-scented air clung to everything. Only three people remained.
Nathan stood by the window—broad-shouldered, tie loosened, jaw locked in a soldier’s stoicism. Logan hovered near the hearth, hands shoved in his pockets, his face conveying despair in place of its recognizable handsomeness. Between them, Nick swayed like something unmoored, suit jacket draped over one arm, eyes fixed on nothing.
A soft knock broke the stillness. Patrick stepped inside and pressed a sealed envelope into Nick’s hand. “He asked me to give you this if…” Patrick’s voice caught; he started again. “…if anything ever happened.” Nick stared at Daniel’s bold script—Nick—then set the envelope on the mantel as though it were fragile glass. He managed a mute nod.
Knowing there was nothing left to say or do, Nathan and Logan recognized it was time for them to say their goodbyes. Nathan approached Nick first, resting a heavy palm on his shoulder, then reconsidering, pulled him into an intense hug, both of them sobbing. “The agency’s behind you, brother. Whatever you need…” as he choked back sobs. Logan followed, folding Nick into another deep hug, “Day or night, we’re here. Call, text, kick in my door—anything.”
Nick’s lips twitched toward gratitude, but no sound emerged. Understanding, Nathan guided Logan toward the door. Shoes scuffed, hinges creaked, and the house fell silent again.
Alone now, Nick eyed the envelope—the last words Daniel would ever speak to him.
Chapter 1 – Summoned to the Deep End
Five Years Earlier
Nick adjusted the cuffs of his crisp white shirt as the Dallas skyline spread out in front of him, a jagged promise of everything he’d hoped to become. The morning sun glinted off the glass towers, throwing beams of gold across the streets. He leaned into the moment, taking a long breath, tasting heat and ambition in the air.
This wasn’t just any interview; it was the interview. The culmination of years chasing approval he’d rarely received. Getting a job at Bishop & King wasn’t only about launching his career—it was about finally getting to meet the legendary Daniel King—in person.
His Uber dropped him in front of Bishop & King, one of the most prestigious advertising agencies in the Southwest. The kind of place he'd dreamed about while poring over AdWeek articles during sleepless nights in college. It had the clout, the reputation, the weight.
Inside, the agency buzzed with a curated mix of cool and chaotic—art on the walls, industrial lighting, and stylish people moving with purpose. He was ushered into a waiting area with sleek leather chairs and a cold bottle of water. One by one, members of the team came to greet him. Smart, confident people who clearly loved where they worked.
Behind the receptionist’s desk the agency's logo gleamed, angular and confident. Just like the man who would be interviewing him.
Daniel King.
What Nick didn’t know was that Daniel had known about him long before today’s interview.
It started with a Texas Monthly feature a few years ago—a glossy spread on “Sexy College Baseball Stars to Watch.” Nick had been highlighted on the cover during his junior year at SMU. The photo stuck with Daniel: shirtless under stadium lights, cleats dug into turf, abs taut and glistening, that half-cocked grin daring the camera to look longer. But Daniel’s interest in Nick went well beyond his athletic torso. It was his eyes. Something behind them. A quiet ache to please. A barely concealed hunger to be noticed—used, even. It wasn’t cocky. It was desperate. Beautifully, vulnerably desperate.
Daniel tagged the article. At first, it was amusement. Then curiosity. And then obsession—not with Nick’s fame, but with his pattern. Daniel began to follow his progress. A stand-out athlete who never took credit for the wins. Always deferring praise to others. Taking the hardest tasks without complaint, almost as if obedience itself gave him meaning. The more Daniel followed him, the more convinced he became: Nick wasn’t just subservient in attitude—he was wired for it. This wasn’t just a sexy athlete with jaw-dropping good looks. This was someone who needed structure. Someone who hungered for authority. Daniel knew it in his bones: Nick was made for someone like him.
What Daniel didn’t know—yet—was that Nick had been following his career as well.
During his senior year, when Nick began researching ad agencies, one name kept surfacing: Bishop and King. Prestigious. Bold. Brilliant. But what captivated Nick was its CEO and namesake, Daniel King. Mature. Dominant. Commanding. He ran the agency like a war general with a perfect jawline. Every interview, every keynote, every published quote struck Nick in the chest. Daniel never hedged. He never asked for permission. He led. And Nick was drawn to it in a way that went far beyond ambition. There was something raw, magnetic, and almost frightening about Daniel’s presence—like walking into a room and instinctively knowing who was in charge.
And then there was Daniel. For Nick he was the sexiest man alive. When Nick learned that Daniel was on his interview schedule he couldn’t believe his good fortune. He'd studied Daniel’s moves for months, even fantasized about what it would be like to work under him—literally and figuratively. Nick’s infatuation with Daniel was indisputable evidence of something he couldn’t come to grips with: his sexuality. Every time he read an article or keynote by him, his cock became as engaged as his brain. He craved Daniel’s physical presence, but he found his take charge attitude even more intoxicating. The idea that this man, this man, might take an interest in him felt too dangerous to hope for.
But the moment Daniel entered the interview room, that danger became real.
Nick stood just inside the doorway of his vast, glass-walled office, his breath catching in his throat. There he was. Daniel King.
The man who had haunted his dreams, his browser history, and—if he were being honest—his sense of identity.
Daniel was taller than expected—easily 6'3"—with the powerful build of a former athlete who never gave up the gym. His body exuded strength and command: broad, square shoulders perfectly tailored into a dark navy suit, narrow hips, a solid chest that pressed slightly against the crisp fabric of his white dress shirt. There was no softness on him. Just sharp lines, carved muscle, and the barely restrained energy of a man used to being obeyed.
His jawline was severe and masculine, dusted with just enough salt-and-pepper stubble to suggest maturity without softness. His skin, tanned and smooth, looked sun-warmed and well-kept—like a man who spent equal time commanding boardrooms and open-air pools. His hair was thick and silvered at the temples, slicked back with ruthless precision, exposing a high, intelligent brow and deep-set eyes the color of storm clouds—steel grey with flecks of frost. Eyes that pinned you down without a word.
Nick couldn’t help but take in the way the trousers hugged Daniel’s thighs—thick and powerful like he could still do box jumps and hip presses that would put half the office to shame. And the way he moved... slow, sure, like he had all the time in the world—and you didn’t.
Holy shit, Nick thought, pulse thudding. That’s a man.
His mouth went dry watching Daniel shift his weight casually from one leg to the other—his muscular quads shifting beneath fine wool, the curve of his glutes outlined in just enough shadow to make Nick imagine how firm they'd feel under his hands. There was something obscene about how good he looked. And how clearly he knew it.
When Daniel spoke, his voice landed somewhere low in Nick’s belly. “Nick,” he said, extending a hand. “Glad you could make it.”
Nick took it, barely suppressing a tremor at the contact. The handshake was firm but not rushed. Daniel held it just long enough to claim something—Nick wasn’t sure what, but he felt it down to his toes. It wasn’t professional. It was possession.
Daniel gestured to the seat across from his desk, and Nick sat, trying not to draw attention to the growing tightness in his pants.
Focus. Stay sharp, he told himself. But it was hard. The scent of Daniel’s cologne—leather, spice, something darker—hung between them like a dare.
He tried to listen. To make sense. But his mind kept drifting to the V of Daniel’s shirt, the faint trace of chest hair, the silver watch on his wrist, the way his thighs sat wide apart.
Nick wasn’t just nervous. He was aroused. And utterly outmatched.
Nick had studied for this moment, but as prepared as he thought he was, he’d never felt so inadequate.
“Thanks for having me,” Nick replied, gulping for air but able to extend a hand. Daniel took it, firm grip, holding it just a second longer than expected.
Nick regained his footing and the conversation started conventionally—portfolio reviews, talk of strategy, creative philosophy. But there was something under the surface. A current. Daniel watched him intently, eyes scanning not just his words but something deeper. Nick could feel it—like the man wasn’t just interviewing him for a job, but reading him, sizing him up for something else. It was simultaneously off-putting…..and thrilling.
“You’ve got a look that could ruin a man’s focus,” Daniel said at one point, out of nowhere. “A presence.”
Nick blinked. “Thank you?”
Daniel didn’t flinch, he was already testing Nick, “Confidence. But still willing to learn.”
The words alone were borderline inappropriate, but it was the tone, the way Daniel’s gaze lingered that made Nick feel like his skin was too tight. His pulse was drumming in his ears. He forced a smile, willed his voice steady.
“Guess it’s the athlete in me,” he said. “Four years of D1 baseball will do that to you.”
Daniel nodded slowly. “I can see that. You’ve kept the kind of form that begs to be tested.”
Nick swallowed hard. Was this still part of the interview?
Eventually, the meeting wrapped. Daniel offered a firm handshake and a final look that seemed to say more than words. As Nick walked out, his skin tingled, his mind spinning.
***
Nick got the call three days later. The job was his.
His first day passed in a blur of introductions and orientation, the agency’s creative pulse already starting to feel like home. But nothing compared to the moment when Daniel’s tall frame appeared in the doorway of his new office.
“Settling in?” Daniel asked.
Although surprised to see him, Nick had the wherewithal to stand and greet him, “Yes, sir. It’s been great.”
Daniel didn’t reply…he simply waited for Nick to continue. “Thank you for stopping by and for the opportunity to be part of the team.” Nick was now simply filling dead air, but he didn’t have a choice, Daniel’s silence was deafening and appeared to be a test…of what? Nick didn’t have a clue.
Daniel stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft click. The air seemed to change. “Just wanted to say how glad I am you’re here,” Daniel said. “I think you’re going to do very well.”
Nick nodded, heart thumping. “Thanks. I appreciate the chance.”
Daniel leaned against the desk, arms crossed.
“You know,” he said, voice lower now, “I knew you wanted to be on my team. I could see it in your eyes during the interview.”
“What’s that?” Nick asked, wary of where this was going.
Daniel tilted his head. “That you’re curious. Open. Hungry. Willing to do whatever it takes.”
Nick’s breath hitched. The words weren’t explicit—but they felt charged. Intimate.
Daniel stood. “We’ll talk more. I have plans for you here.”
He walked to the door, pausing before he opened it.
“I like talent that knows when to listen,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “And when to obey.”
And with that, he was gone.
Nick stood frozen for a full minute, heat surging beneath his skin. He sat down slowly, heart racing, and stared out the window. That set of words signaled that Daniel knew Nick better than he knew himself.
Whatever he’d just stepped into, it was more than a job—it was a test of how far he'd go to feel wanted, to be seen... to be owned.
It felt like the beginning of something he wasn’t ready to name—but something that made his insides ache and his dick swell.
And those were reasons enough to want it—badly.
Reflecting on this first encounter, Daniel had his own thoughts, and although he’d never let on, he was even more aroused than Nick.
Nick’s first few weeks at Bishop & King passed in a kind of kinetic blur. The pace was relentless, the standards high—but he thrived on it. His title, Junior Account Executive, might not have sounded glamorous, but it came with real responsibility. He was already deep in two product launches and leading the research on a third, one that could lead to a sizeable new account. Donald, his immediate boss and head of research, had taken a liking to him, offering steady guidance and subtle praise that always made Nick want to push harder.
“Solid work, Nick,” Donald said one morning, after Nick handed him a set of audience metrics on a startup they’d just signed. “I have to say—you’ve got a rare focus. You’re making a name for yourself.”
Nick beamed. “Thanks, Donald. Means a lot.”
Donald paused. “Also... word is, you’ve caught Daniel’s attention. That doesn’t happen much, just so you know.”
Nick blinked. “Really?”
Donald nodded, then hesitated. “Daniel tends to keep his distance from the junior staff. But he’s... noticed you. He’s asked about you.”
Something in Donald’s tone gave Nick pause. There was a layer under the words. Not concern, exactly—but curiosity. Maybe even warning. Nick filed it away.
Daniel’s presence in his life didn’t fade after that first encounter. If anything, it grew.
Daniel’s next visit was casual—professional, even. He strolled into Nick’s office mid-morning, glancing over the research pinned to his wall.
“Impressive work,” he said, his voice calm and smooth. “You’ve got an eye for clarity. Most people overthink things.”
Nick flushed at the compliment. “I try to keep it clean. Telling the truth is hard enough without over-complicating it.”
Daniel smiled, stepping closer. “Truth. That’s a rare instinct. Especially from someone who looks like he belongs in a Nike campaign.”
Nick, secretly loving the approval, but recognizing the innuendo, laughed nervously.
“Guess I missed my calling.”
Daniel’s eyes didn’t leave him. “Maybe not. You’ve got presence. People notice. That matters in this business.” He turned to leave, then paused at the door. “Keep listening to your gut. You’ll go far.”
***
Despite the intensity of the job and Daniel’s apparent interest, Nick found himself slowly drawn into a circle of employees close to his age—each of them relatively new to the agency, all still trying to prove themselves.
There was Nathan, strikingly handsome, athletic, with sharp features and effortless style. Openly gay, a former track athlete, and devastatingly quick-witted. Lena brought a warmth to the group, tall and graceful with an easy smile and a way of making everyone feel seen. And then there was Megan—short, Italian, gritty, with a dry humor and a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude that made her instantly magnetic.
When they invited Nick to join their ranks, the dynamic shifted. His notoriety—especially that infamous Texas Monthly cover naming him one of the “Sexy College Baseball Players to Watch”—preceded him. At first, his three new peers were slightly skeptical. A sense that they weren’t sure if he was a team player or just a golden boy skating by on charm and abs.
It didn’t help that Nick had always wrestled with the burden of his talent and looks. Back in college, he’d tried to shrug off the attention—tried to be one of the guys, not the star. He wanted to belong, not stand apart. But the more people projected desire or envy onto him, the more he’d retreated into quiet discipline.
That same instinct—his yearning not to dominate but to support, even submit—was part of what drew him, so irresistibly, into Daniel’s orbit. Daniel seemed to have a sixth sense for Nick’s desire to retreat, to support, not to shine.
Once they got to know Nick, the group thawed. Nathan was the first to take to him, half-flirting, half-testing, before eventually offering a knowing wink and a spot at the team’s favorite lunch table. Lena followed with her usual openness, and finally Megan, who respected his hustle and was rarely intimidated.
They became his anchor—at least in the daylight hours. People his own age, facing the same challenges he was. He appreciated their friendships more than they knew.
And despite their growing comradery, Nick was relieved that not a word was mentioned about Daniel.
Daniel's third visit came the next week.
Nick was deep in analytics when he heard the familiar knock—light, then the door opening before he could respond.
Daniel stepped in again, sleeves rolled, tie loose, eyes sharper this time.
“I was thinking about our last conversation,” he said. “You said you liked to keep things clean. Honest. That tells me you’re someone who understands discipline.”
Nick sat straighter. Nick was no fool. He was becoming aware of Daniel’s intentions, or what he hoped they were, and he wanted to play along…encourage him. “Discipline has its rewards”, Nick responded.
Daniel filled the room as he spoke; his presence was intoxicating. “Indeed, it does. Discipline isn’t just consistency,” Daniel said, walking toward him. “It’s surrender. It’s choosing structure, even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts.”
Nick’s breath caught. Daniel was taking this dance one step further, but no lines crossed; something in Daniel’s gaze made him shift in his chair. His pulse ticked faster.
“D1 baseball,” Daniel said, as if reminding himself. “The repetition. The pressure. All those years of training... it molds you. Makes you responsive. You learn to take direction without question. To follow the manager’s orders, even if you disagree. Even if it’s painful. I value that.”
“I guess I never thought about it that way,” Nick said, voice quieter now.
Daniel smiled. “I did. I know what to look for.” Then he left, leaving a silence that reverberated with words unspoken and Nick grasping for answers.
The next visit was shorter—but more charged than the ones before.
Daniel appeared in the late afternoon, when the office was quieter. He leaned against the doorframe like he owned the air between them.
“I swam competitively,” he said out of nowhere. “College. D1. 800m mostly.”
Nick looked up, intrigued. “No way. I was a swimmer too. Well... baseball first, but swimming was my second love. Would love to be able to keep at it.”
Daniel’s eyes flickered. “You live nearby?”
“Fifteen minutes away. But my building doesn’t have a pool, so...” Nick shrugged.
Daniel nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth pulling just slightly as he subtly assessed Nick’s physique. “Shame. A body like yours shouldn’t be hidden—especially not from someone who uses it so--powerfully.”
There it was again—that pause. That tension.
Nick didn’t respond, but he felt it in his throat. The pull. The question. The heat.
Daniel gave him a long look. “Let me know if you ever want to use a real pool. I’ve got one.”
And then he was gone.
Like after Daniel’s other visits, he felt flattered with his attention and aroused beyond words.
Meanwhile, over lunch that afternoon, Nick’s friend group found themselves pondering something that had caught their attention: People were beginning to notice Daniel’s visits to Nick’s office. “Nick, that just doesn’t happen,” Megan told him, half serious, half just curious. “Daniel doesn’t do drop-ins. I don’t think he’s ever seen the inside of my office.” The others agreed—it was odd, even unprecedented. They weren’t malicious, just naturally puzzled, their voices laced with good natured intrigue rather than jealousy. Addressing it head on to Nick, Megan leaned in with a smirk, “You must have made quite the impression,” leaving her comment wide open for interpretation. Nick nervously laughed it off and cleverly offered that it was probably because he had been assigned to an important new business pitch that Daniel was deeply involved with. But the truth was, he had a growing concern that the attention Daniel was paying him, which he recognized wasn’t normal, was being noticed. But after years of competitive baseball, Nick was trained to stay cool under pressure and just sat there, smiling faintly, his imagination spinning, and cock swelling.
Trying hard to put all this behind him, later that day Nick found a text on his phone.
From: Daniel King
Nick—
I imagine you miss the water. You need a proper workout. Join me at my home this Saturday at 3PM. Bring a suit
—DK
It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even an invitation. It was a summons.
Nick stared at the screen, heart pounding. The cursor blinked. The words felt like heat against his chest.
Was this real?
Nick reread it three times. The tone wasn’t friendly—it was expectant. Confident. Commanding.
He leaned back in his chair, heart pounding. What the hell was happening?
Daniel was openly gay…that wasn’t the question. Was this flirting? But there was more to it. Something more than Nick could even imagine.
Nick hadn’t even begun to explore that side of himself—not out loud, anyway. But lately, he’d felt the quiet hum of curiosity getting louder. And Daniel wasn’t just waking it up—he was bending him toward something dark, something thrillingly irreversible.
He knew this was dangerous—wrong, even—but the idea of submitting to Daniel lit something in him he couldn't extinguish.
He sat motionless for several minutes, then typed a reply. Deleted it. Typed again. Fingers shaking, he landed on something simple. Something that said yes, without fully admitting why.
From: Nick Courser
Thank you for the invitation, Daniel. I’d be honored to join you Saturday. Thank you for thinking of me and looking forward to it.
—Nick
He hit send before he could second-guess himself.
Then he leaned back in his chair, chest heaving, unsure if he’d just made the best decision of his life—or the most dangerous one.
End of Chapter 1
Note to Readers
Thanks for joining me on Nick and Daniel’s journey. I’ve been away for a while working on this story. It’s been a personal passion for me as there’s a quite a bit of both Nick and Daniel in me. I hope you hang in for their twists and turns. Warning—this is a long story. About 20 more chapters about this length, but I think you’ll find it rewarding, particularly the conclusion. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comment section or to me at [email protected].
Full disclosure: As I’ve been writing this story, on more than one occasion I noticed thematic similarities to some of the stories written by Broken Boundaries on this site. I reached out to him to share my observations and assure him the similarities were purely coincidental. As we exchanged emails, it became apparent we simply get off on many of the same things. We’ve talked more about this since and had a laugh over it. This will be the first time he’s read this this story, so I wonder if he’ll agree. And if you like this story, check out his on this site; they’re terrific.
