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By *am1e31 OP Man
1 week ago
Westgate |
PART 3: https://www.fabguys.com/forum/fantasy/1681743
The honeymoon phase hadn’t just lingered; it had deepened into something that felt both exhilarating and dangerously comfortable. Two months had passed since that first night at my house, and the novelty of Marcus hadn’t worn off - it had only sharpened.
I didn’t just leave the office at five; I vanished. The moment the digital clock on my monitor flipped, I was already grabbing my coat, offering the briefest of nods to my coworkers as I headed for the elevators. My commute used to be a slog of podcasts and traffic-induced boredom, but now, every red light felt like a personal affront to my schedule.
I gripped the steering wheel of my car (blessedly back in my possession and running smoothly, although I must admit getting the bus hadn’t been too bad of late…) as I wove through the tight country lanes towards home. My mind was already three steps ahead: Shower, the blue shirt, a quick splash of aftershave, and out the door. My phone buzzed in the centre console, Marcus’s name lighting up the screen. I swiped 'answer' on the steering wheel controls, a grin already tugging at my lips.
"I'm moving as fast as the speed limit allows, I promise," I said by way of greeting.
Marcus’s laugh came through the speakers, low and resonant, a sound that still sent a faint shiver down my spine. "Is that right? Because I’m already sat with a drink, and I’ve got a very comfy, secluded booth away from the bar… I’d hate for someone else to try and take it."
"Tell them it’s reserved," I countered, checking my rearview mirror. "I just need twenty minutes to make myself presentable."
"Presentable? You could turn up in your work tie and nothing else and I wouldn't complain," Marcus teased, his voice dropping into that playful, gravelly register I’d grown to love. "But don't rush so fast you get pulled over. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve waited all day; I can wait another half hour."
"I’ll be there in fifteen," I promised. "I missed you today."
"I missed you too, Jamie. Now get moving."
The pub was one of those dimly lit, wood-panelled places where the air smelled of hops and old stories, the kind of place Marcus preferred over the neon-soaked bars my friends usually frequented. I spotted him immediately. He was tucked into a corner booth, looking ruggedly handsome in a dark jumper that stretched across his broad shoulders. He looked up as I approached, his expression softening into a genuine, warm smile that made me feel like the only person in the room.
"Look at you," Marcus murmured as I slid into the booth beside him, rather than across from him. "You look like you’ve had a long day."
"It was long until about five minutes ago," I admitted, leaning in. Marcus reached out, his large, calloused hand finding the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin just behind my ear. It was a possessive, grounding gesture that I had grown to crave.
"I was thinking," Marcus said, his eyes searching mine. "We could stay for one drink, and... we could skip the second round and head back to my place. I bought that steak you liked. And I might have remembered to pick up that bottle of wine you mentioned."
I felt the familiar heat pool in my stomach. The "Daddy" dynamic we had explored that first night hadn't been a one-time experiment; it had become a secret language between us, a way for me to let go of the stresses of my professional life and simply be taken care of.
"The steak sounds good," I whispered, my hand settling on his thigh under the table. "But I think I’m more interested in what happens after dinner."
Marcus’s grip on my neck tightened just a fraction, a silent promise of exactly what the night held in store. "Good boy… now, what do you fancy to drink?" |
