Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

To the Team

Wednesday morning’s dry run in the main conference room went smoother than any of them had dared to hope. The slides clicked forward without a single glitch, the numbers aligned perfectly, and every potential question from the client side had already been anticipated and answered in the backup deck. Frank stood at the front, leading the rehearsal with calm authority, but he kept pausing to invite input from the team. Emily jumped in on the logistics section with crisp precision. Chris clarified a complex financial model with surprising confidence. Marc added sharp insights on stakeholder alignment that made Frank nod appreciatively. Josh lightened the mood with a perfectly timed analogy that even made the usually serious Emily laugh.

When the final slide faded, Frank looked around the table and let out a slow breath. “That was flawless. Better than I expected, honestly. We are leaving early today. Go home, rest, recharge. Tomorrow we show them what this team can really do.”

The division packed up with a collective sense of satisfaction that felt new and addictive. Normally Frank would have insisted on one more review, staying late himself to polish every detail alone. Today he simply shut down his laptop and wished them all a good evening. The change in him was no longer surprising. It felt right.

Thursday arrived with clear skies over Munich and a quiet hum of anticipation in the air. The client meeting was scheduled for ten in the manufacturer’s sleek headquarters on the outskirts of the city. This time Frank did something he had never done before. He insisted the entire team come along.

“I am not doing this solo,” he told them in the car on the way over. “You all earned a seat at that table. Your expertise, your support, your different perspectives. That is what we are bringing today. Not just me. Us.”

The pitch itself unfolded like a well-rehearsed symphony. Frank opened with his usual commanding presence, outlining the high-level strategy in his deep, authoritative voice. But every time a question arose, he turned it over to the right person. Emily handled the supply chain deep dive with disciplined clarity. Chris walked them through the financial projections with quiet expertise. Marc addressed the stakeholder risks and growth opportunities, his lean frame relaxed yet focused as he gestured to the slides. Josh added real-world analogies that made the complex data feel human and actionable.

The client representatives leaned forward, nodding, asking follow-up questions that the team answered seamlessly together. By the end of the ninety-minute session the room buzzed with unmistakable energy. The lead decision maker, a sharp-eyed executive in his fifties, leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“This was impressive,” he said. “Not just the numbers, but the way you presented as a true team. You showed us it is not a one-man show. You tackled problems we were not even fully aware of yet. We are excited to move forward and get to know your group better over the coming years. Consider the contract yours.”

The team held their professional composure until they reached the elevator. Then the celebration erupted in quiet high-fives and relieved laughter. Frank’s hazel eyes shone with something close to pride as he looked at each of them.

“You all were outstanding,” he said simply. “Thank you.”

They headed straight to a cozy bar just a few blocks from the client’s office, a place with dark wood panels and a sunny terrace that overlooked the Isar River. Frank insisted on paying for everything. They claimed a large table outside, ordered a round of drinks, and let the afternoon sun warm their faces while the city moved around them.

Frank raised his glass first. “To the team. Not just for today, but for everything these past weeks. I know I was not always easy to work with. I am grateful you stayed anyway. And even more grateful you helped me become someone worth following.”

Emily clinked her glass against his with a warm smile. “We saw the change, Frank. It means a lot.”

Josh leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Speaking of change, I am officially requesting to join the running group on a regular basis. Those after work battles are too good to miss. Plus, I need to keep an eye on you two lovebirds.”

Emily nodded quickly. “Same here. I have been meaning to get back into running anyway. Count me in.”

Chris chuckled, swirling the ice in his drink. “You all have fun with that. I will stick to our new fantasy book club. Way less sweat, way more dragons.”

The table erupted in laughter. The conversation flowed easily after that, stories from the pitch mixing with light teasing about Frank’s old grumpy days and Marc’s hidden speed on the hill. Drinks were refilled once, then twice, but no one overdid it. The mood stayed celebratory and comfortable, the kind of easy camaraderie that had been missing for years.

As the sun began to dip lower, they slowly parted ways with hugs and promises to regroup on Monday. Frank lingered on the terrace until only Marc remained. He reached across the table and took Marc’s hand openly, no longer hiding anything.

“Come back to my place?” Frank asked, voice low and warm. “Just us. No pressure. I want to end this day with you.”

Marc squeezed his fingers. “I would like that.”

Frank’s apartment felt like a sanctuary when they stepped inside. The evening light filtered through the large windows, soft and golden. Frank poured them each a glass of red wine, and they settled on the large couch without turning on any lamps. Marc kicked off his shoes and stretched out, pulling Frank down with him until they were tangled together, legs intertwined, Marc’s head resting against Frank’s broad chest.

They sipped the wine slowly, trading lazy kisses between swallows. The kisses started soft and grateful, then deepened gradually, tongues sliding together with familiar heat. Hands wandered without urgency, Frank’s palm slipping under Marc’s shirt to stroke the warm skin of his back, Marc’s fingers tracing the line of Frank’s neat beard and down to the firm muscle of his shoulder.

Both of them grew hard, cocks pressing against each other through their clothes. The arousal was there, steady and pleasant, but neither pushed for more. Frank set his glass aside and pulled Marc closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly on the couch. Marc shifted so they lay face to face, one leg hooked over Frank’s hip.

“Today was perfect because of you,” Marc murmured against Frank’s lips. “The way you led but let us all shine. I am so proud of you.”

Frank kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the taste of wine and the familiar warmth of Marc’s mouth. “I could not have done any of it without you. You started this. You crawled under my skin and refused to let the old me stay hidden. I like who I am with you.”

Their hands moved lower in quiet agreement. Marc opened Frank’s belt and slid his trousers down just enough to free the thick, uncut cock. Frank did the same for Marc, wrapping a large hand around the length and stroking with slow, perfect pressure. They jerked each other off like that, bodies pressed close, mouths never far apart. The rhythm stayed gentle and unhurried, thumbs brushing over leaking heads, fingers tightening just right.

Frank’s breathing grew ragged first. “Marc… you feel so good. I love this. Just us. No rush.”

Marc moaned softly into another kiss, hips rocking into Frank’s grip. “Me too. Come with me. I want to feel you lose it while I am holding you.”

They stroked faster together, foreheads pressed tight, eyes locked in the dim light. When Frank came, it was with a low groan, cum spilling over Marc’s fist and onto both their stomachs. Marc followed seconds later, shuddering as pleasure rolled through him, painting Frank’s hand and the front of his shirt.

They stayed tangled afterward, breathing slowly evening out, neither bothering to clean up right away. Frank pulled Marc even closer, one arm wrapped securely around his waist, the other hand lazily stroking his back under the shirt. The mess between them felt intimate rather than messy, a quiet reminder of how far they had come.

Marc smiled against Frank’s neck. “This is nice too. Not everything has to be intense. Sometimes just this is enough.”

Frank kissed the top of his head, the neat beard brushing blond hair. “More than enough. I spent years thinking I needed to be untouchable to be strong. You showed me that letting people in, letting you in, makes everything better. The team. The work. Us.”

They lay there for a long time, the city humming softly outside the windows, wine glasses forgotten on the side table.

... To be continued

---

If you’re curious, there’s more waiting on my Reddit profile.

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

To the Team

Wednesday morning’s dry run in the main conference room went smoother than any of them had dared to hope. The slides clicked forward without a single glitch, the numbers aligned perfectly, and every potential question from the client side had already been anticipated and answered in the backup deck. Frank stood at the front, leading the rehearsal with calm authority, but he kept pausing to invite input from the team. Emily jumped in on the logistics section with crisp precision. Chris clarified a complex financial model with surprising confidence. Marc added sharp insights on stakeholder alignment that made Frank nod appreciatively. Josh lightened the mood with a perfectly timed analogy that even made the usually serious Emily laugh.

When the final slide faded, Frank looked around the table and let out a slow breath. “That was flawless. Better than I expected, honestly. We are leaving early today. Go home, rest, recharge. Tomorrow we show them what this team can really do.”

The division packed up with a collective sense of satisfaction that felt new and addictive. Normally Frank would have insisted on one more review, staying late himself to polish every detail alone. Today he simply shut down his laptop and wished them all a good evening. The change in him was no longer surprising. It felt right.

Thursday arrived with clear skies over Munich and a quiet hum of anticipation in the air. The client meeting was scheduled for ten in the manufacturer’s sleek headquarters on the outskirts of the city. This time Frank did something he had never done before. He insisted the entire team come along.

“I am not doing this solo,” he told them in the car on the way over. “You all earned a seat at that table. Your expertise, your support, your different perspectives. That is what we are bringing today. Not just me. Us.”

The pitch itself unfolded like a well-rehearsed symphony. Frank opened with his usual commanding presence, outlining the high-level strategy in his deep, authoritative voice. But every time a question arose, he turned it over to the right person. Emily handled the supply chain deep dive with disciplined clarity. Chris walked them through the financial projections with quiet expertise. Marc addressed the stakeholder risks and growth opportunities, his lean frame relaxed yet focused as he gestured to the slides. Josh added real-world analogies that made the complex data feel human and actionable.

The client representatives leaned forward, nodding, asking follow-up questions that the team answered seamlessly together. By the end of the ninety-minute session the room buzzed with unmistakable energy. The lead decision maker, a sharp-eyed executive in his fifties, leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“This was impressive,” he said. “Not just the numbers, but the way you presented as a true team. You showed us it is not a one-man show. You tackled problems we were not even fully aware of yet. We are excited to move forward and get to know your group better over the coming years. Consider the contract yours.”

The team held their professional composure until they reached the elevator. Then the celebration erupted in quiet high-fives and relieved laughter. Frank’s hazel eyes shone with something close to pride as he looked at each of them.

“You all were outstanding,” he said simply. “Thank you.”

They headed straight to a cozy bar just a few blocks from the client’s office, a place with dark wood panels and a sunny terrace that overlooked the Isar River. Frank insisted on paying for everything. They claimed a large table outside, ordered a round of drinks, and let the afternoon sun warm their faces while the city moved around them.

Frank raised his glass first. “To the team. Not just for today, but for everything these past weeks. I know I was not always easy to work with. I am grateful you stayed anyway. And even more grateful you helped me become someone worth following.”

Emily clinked her glass against his with a warm smile. “We saw the change, Frank. It means a lot.”

Josh leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Speaking of change, I am officially requesting to join the running group on a regular basis. Those after work battles are too good to miss. Plus, I need to keep an eye on you two lovebirds.”

Emily nodded quickly. “Same here. I have been meaning to get back into running anyway. Count me in.”

Chris chuckled, swirling the ice in his drink. “You all have fun with that. I will stick to our new fantasy book club. Way less sweat, way more dragons.”

The table erupted in laughter. The conversation flowed easily after that, stories from the pitch mixing with light teasing about Frank’s old grumpy days and Marc’s hidden speed on the hill. Drinks were refilled once, then twice, but no one overdid it. The mood stayed celebratory and comfortable, the kind of easy camaraderie that had been missing for years.

As the sun began to dip lower, they slowly parted ways with hugs and promises to regroup on Monday. Frank lingered on the terrace until only Marc remained. He reached across the table and took Marc’s hand openly, no longer hiding anything.

“Come back to my place?” Frank asked, voice low and warm. “Just us. No pressure. I want to end this day with you.”

Marc squeezed his fingers. “I would like that.”

Frank’s apartment felt like a sanctuary when they stepped inside. The evening light filtered through the large windows, soft and golden. Frank poured them each a glass of red wine, and they settled on the large couch without turning on any lamps. Marc kicked off his shoes and stretched out, pulling Frank down with him until they were tangled together, legs intertwined, Marc’s head resting against Frank’s broad chest.

They sipped the wine slowly, trading lazy kisses between swallows. The kisses started soft and grateful, then deepened gradually, tongues sliding together with familiar heat. Hands wandered without urgency, Frank’s palm slipping under Marc’s shirt to stroke the warm skin of his back, Marc’s fingers tracing the line of Frank’s neat beard and down to the firm muscle of his shoulder.

Both of them grew hard, cocks pressing against each other through their clothes. The arousal was there, steady and pleasant, but neither pushed for more. Frank set his glass aside and pulled Marc closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly on the couch. Marc shifted so they lay face to face, one leg hooked over Frank’s hip.

“Today was perfect because of you,” Marc murmured against Frank’s lips. “The way you led but let us all shine. I am so proud of you.”

Frank kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the taste of wine and the familiar warmth of Marc’s mouth. “I could not have done any of it without you. You started this. You crawled under my skin and refused to let the old me stay hidden. I like who I am with you.”

Their hands moved lower in quiet agreement. Marc opened Frank’s belt and slid his trousers down just enough to free the thick, uncut cock. Frank did the same for Marc, wrapping a large hand around the length and stroking with slow, perfect pressure. They jerked each other off like that, bodies pressed close, mouths never far apart. The rhythm stayed gentle and unhurried, thumbs brushing over leaking heads, fingers tightening just right.

Frank’s breathing grew ragged first. “Marc… you feel so good. I love this. Just us. No rush.”

Marc moaned softly into another kiss, hips rocking into Frank’s grip. “Me too. Come with me. I want to feel you lose it while I am holding you.”

They stroked faster together, foreheads pressed tight, eyes locked in the dim light. When Frank came, it was with a low groan, cum spilling over Marc’s fist and onto both their stomachs. Marc followed seconds later, shuddering as pleasure rolled through him, painting Frank’s hand and the front of his shirt.

They stayed tangled afterward, breathing slowly evening out, neither bothering to clean up right away. Frank pulled Marc even closer, one arm wrapped securely around his waist, the other hand lazily stroking his back under the shirt. The mess between them felt intimate rather than messy, a quiet reminder of how far they had come.

Marc smiled against Frank’s neck. “This is nice too. Not everything has to be intense. Sometimes just this is enough.”

Frank kissed the top of his head, the neat beard brushing blond hair. “More than enough. I spent years thinking I needed to be untouchable to be strong. You showed me that letting people in, letting you in, makes everything better. The team. The work. Us.”

They lay there for a long time, the city humming softly outside the windows, wine glasses forgotten on the side table.

... To be continued

---

If you’re curious, there’s more waiting on my Reddit profile.

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Tuesday hit the division like a freight train of deadlines. The pitch for Thursday’s big meeting with the premium car manufacturer loomed large, slides needed final tweaks, financial models required one last stress test, and stakeholder questions had to be anticipated down to the smallest detail. Yet something in the air had shifted. The new team spirit that had bloomed over the past weeks turned the usual pressure cooker into a focused, almost joyful machine. Chris and Frank huddled over the fantasy series for five minutes before diving back into the numbers, trading quick laughs about plot twists while refining the risk analysis. Emily moved between desks with her usual disciplined energy, but now she paused to high-five Marc when he caught a subtle error in the supply chain forecast. Josh kept the mood light with perfectly timed jokes, yet his contributions to the narrative slides were sharper than ever.

To Frank’s quiet surprise, they wrapped the core work by four thirty. The slides were polished, the dry-run script ready, and every file synced to the shared drive with room to spare. He stood at the front of the open workspace, looking around at the five of them with something close to wonder in his hazel eyes.

“Team,” he said, voice carrying genuine warmth, “I cannot believe we are actually ahead of schedule. This new vibe we have going, the way you all stepped up and supported each other, it made today ridiculously productive. High quality too. I am confident this is one of the best pitches we have ever put together. Thank you. Really.”

Emily smiled. Chris nodded, looking almost bashful at the praise. Josh grinned and gave a mock salute.

Frank continued, “Tomorrow is polishing day. Dry run in the morning, then we leave early. Come in late if you want. Rest up. We are going to crush Thursday.”

The team dispersed with lighter steps than usual. As the others packed up, Frank caught Marc’s eye across the room and lowered his voice just for him. “My place around seven. I need to prepare more than just dinner tonight.”

Marc’s pulse kicked up. He nodded once, a small, heated smile tugging at his lips. “I will be there.”

At exactly seven Marc stood outside Frank’s door, dressed sharper than the casual runs ever allowed. Fine dark chinos hugged his lean athletic legs, a fitted light-blue button-down showed off the clean lines of his shoulders, and his blond hair was freshly cut and styled. He looked every bit the confident young professional who had just won a bet.

Frank opened the door in soft gray sweatpants that rode low on his hips and a loose black tank top that revealed the trimmed dark hair across his broad chest. The contrast made him pause. His neat beard was freshly trimmed, but the relaxed outfit screamed comfort. His hazel eyes widened for a second, then crinkled with laughter.

“Damn, Fischer. You show up looking like you are taking me to a Michelin restaurant, and I am standing here in pajamas ready to get wrecked. Now I feel underdressed for my own deflowering.”

Marc stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and pulled Frank into a deep kiss before either of them could say another word. Their mouths moved slow and hungry, tongues sliding together as Marc’s hands settled on Frank’s waist. When they finally broke apart, Marc rested their foreheads together.

“You look perfect,” Marc murmured. “Exactly how I want you tonight. Relaxed. Mine.”

Frank’s breath caught. “Dinner can wait a little longer if you want.”

Marc shook his head, smiling. “We eat first. Then I take my time with you. No rush.”

They sat down to a simple but thoughtful meal Frank had prepared, grilled chicken with herbs, roasted vegetables, and a good bottle of red wine. Conversation flowed easy, laced with teasing anticipation. Frank kept stealing glances at Marc’s fitted shirt, the way the fabric stretched across his chest. Marc’s foot brushed Frank’s under the table, a deliberate promise.

When the plates were cleared, Marc took Frank’s hand and led him to the bedroom. The lights stayed low, warm and intimate. Marc undressed Frank slowly, peeling the tank top over his head, then sliding the sweatpants down strong, hairy thighs until the older man stood naked and already half hard. Marc kept his own clothes on for now, the contrast making Frank look beautifully vulnerable.

“Lie on your stomach,” Marc said gently, voice steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Frank obeyed, stretching out on the bed. Marc climbed over him, fully clothed, and started with soft kisses down the back of Frank’s neck, across his broad shoulders, then lower along the spine. When he reached the firm curve of Frank’s ass, Marc spread the cheeks with careful hands and pressed his mouth there.

Frank gasped at the first wet lick. “Marc… fuck.”

Marc hummed against the tight ring, tongue circling slow and thorough. “You taste so good. Just relax for me. Tell me if anything feels too much.”

He rimmed Frank with patient devotion, tongue pushing inside, licking deep and wet while one hand stroked the back of Frank’s thigh. Frank’s breathing grew ragged, hips pushing back instinctively.

“Feels incredible,” Frank groaned. “Do not stop. I… I never let anyone do this before. Not like this.”

Marc smiled against his skin. “Good. I want you to feel every second. You are safe with me. Let go of that control you always carry.”

He added a slick finger, sliding it in alongside his tongue, gentle but insistent. Frank moaned louder, the sound raw and surprised. Marc worked him open with one finger, then two, scissoring carefully, curling to brush the prostate until Frank’s cock leaked steadily onto the sheets.

“Marc… please. I need more. I need you inside me.”

Marc kissed the small of his back. “I am right here. Tell me how it feels when I add another.”

He pushed in a third finger, slow and slick, watching Frank’s body open for him. Frank’s hands fisted the sheets, but his voice stayed honest, trembling with pleasure.

“So full. Burns a little but… god, it is good. Keep going. I trust you.”

Marc took his time, fingering him deep and steady, whispering praise the whole time. “You are doing so well. Look at you, taking my fingers like this. So beautiful when you let go. I am going to fuck you now, okay? Slow at first. You say stop and I stop.”

Frank nodded into the pillow, voice thick. “Yes. Fuck me, Marc. I want it. I want to feel you.”

Marc finally stripped, his cock hard and flushed. He slicked himself generously, then positioned himself between Frank’s spread thighs. The first push was careful, just the head breaching the tight ring. Frank exhaled sharply.

“Breathe for me,” Marc murmured, one hand stroking Frank’s back. “You are so tight. So perfect. Let me in, baby.”

Inch by inch Marc sank forward until he was buried completely, hips flush against Frank’s ass. He stayed there, letting Frank adjust, kissing his shoulders and whispering.

“How does it feel? Talk to me.”

Frank’s voice cracked with raw honesty. “Full. So fucking full. I have never… never given this up before. But with you it feels right. Move slowly, Marc. Please.”

Marc started slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock over Frank’s prostate with every thrust. The pace built gradually, still controlled, still careful. Frank’s moans grew louder, uninhibited, the grumpy alpha finally surrendering completely.

“More,” Frank gasped. “I can take it. God, you feel so good inside me. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Marc gave him what he asked for, thrusts turning deeper, more passionate, skin slapping wetly. He reached around to stroke Frank’s large cock in time, whispering filthy encouragement.

“You are taking me so well. My strong, beautiful boss letting me fuck him open. You love this, don’t you? Love giving up control to me.”

“Yes,” Frank groaned, pushing back to meet every stroke. “I love it. Do not stop. I am yours tonight.”

They moved together, bodies slick with sweat, the bed creaking under them. Marc fucked him with long, powerful strokes, one hand gripping Frank’s hip, the other still working his cock. Frank’s voice stayed constant, raw and verbal, telling Marc exactly how deep he felt, how perfect it was, how much he needed to come.

When the edge finally hit, Marc buried himself deep and stroked Frank faster. “Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze around my cock when you lose it.”

Frank came hard with a broken shout, cum spilling over Marc’s fist and the sheets. His hole clenched rhythmically, pulling Marc over the edge right behind him. Marc groaned Frank’s name as he pulsed deep inside, filling him with hot spurts.

They collapsed together, breathing hard. Marc stayed inside for a long moment, kissing the back of Frank’s neck, before pulling out gently. He rolled Frank over and kissed him slow and deep, tasting the surrender on his tongue.

Afterward they moved to the shower. Hot water cascaded over them as they stood wrapped in each other’s arms. Marc washed Frank with tender hands, soaping the broad chest and hairy stomach, then lower between his legs. Frank returned every touch, palms gliding over Marc’s lean frame, pulling him close under the spray.

“I never thought I would enjoy that the way I did,” Frank said quietly, forehead resting against Marc’s. “Giving up control. Letting someone else lead. I spent years thinking it would make me weak. But with you… it felt like freedom. Like I could finally breathe.”

Marc smiled, tracing a finger along Frank’s jaw. “You were incredible. So open, so honest. I loved every second of taking care of you. And I love the man you are becoming. Not the grumpy boss anymore. Just you. Real. Mine.”

Frank kissed him softly, water streaming between their lips. “This pitch on Thursday, the team, us… it all feels possible now. Because of you. You crawled under my skin and made me want to be better. I am not going back.”

They lingered in the shower until the water cooled, trading slow kisses and quiet promises. The slow burn that had started on those first runs in the Englischer Garten had finally settled into something steady and bright. A real relationship. A stronger team. A future neither of them had seen coming.

When they finally dried off and climbed back into bed, Frank pulled Marc against his chest and held him close. The city lights glowed beyond the windows, but inside the apartment everything felt warm and certain.

... To be continued

---

If you’re curious, there’s more waiting on my Reddit profile.

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Tuesday hit the division like a freight train of deadlines. The pitch for Thursday’s big meeting with the premium car manufacturer loomed large, slides needed final tweaks, financial models required one last stress test, and stakeholder questions had to be anticipated down to the smallest detail. Yet something in the air had shifted. The new team spirit that had bloomed over the past weeks turned the usual pressure cooker into a focused, almost joyful machine. Chris and Frank huddled over the fantasy series for five minutes before diving back into the numbers, trading quick laughs about plot twists while refining the risk analysis. Emily moved between desks with her usual disciplined energy, but now she paused to high-five Marc when he caught a subtle error in the supply chain forecast. Josh kept the mood light with perfectly timed jokes, yet his contributions to the narrative slides were sharper than ever.

To Frank’s quiet surprise, they wrapped the core work by four thirty. The slides were polished, the dry-run script ready, and every file synced to the shared drive with room to spare. He stood at the front of the open workspace, looking around at the five of them with something close to wonder in his hazel eyes.

“Team,” he said, voice carrying genuine warmth, “I cannot believe we are actually ahead of schedule. This new vibe we have going, the way you all stepped up and supported each other, it made today ridiculously productive. High quality too. I am confident this is one of the best pitches we have ever put together. Thank you. Really.”

Emily smiled. Chris nodded, looking almost bashful at the praise. Josh grinned and gave a mock salute.

Frank continued, “Tomorrow is polishing day. Dry run in the morning, then we leave early. Come in late if you want. Rest up. We are going to crush Thursday.”

The team dispersed with lighter steps than usual. As the others packed up, Frank caught Marc’s eye across the room and lowered his voice just for him. “My place around seven. I need to prepare more than just dinner tonight.”

Marc’s pulse kicked up. He nodded once, a small, heated smile tugging at his lips. “I will be there.”

At exactly seven Marc stood outside Frank’s door, dressed sharper than the casual runs ever allowed. Fine dark chinos hugged his lean athletic legs, a fitted light-blue button-down showed off the clean lines of his shoulders, and his blond hair was freshly cut and styled. He looked every bit the confident young professional who had just won a bet.

Frank opened the door in soft gray sweatpants that rode low on his hips and a loose black tank top that revealed the trimmed dark hair across his broad chest. The contrast made him pause. His neat beard was freshly trimmed, but the relaxed outfit screamed comfort. His hazel eyes widened for a second, then crinkled with laughter.

“Damn, Fischer. You show up looking like you are taking me to a Michelin restaurant, and I am standing here in pajamas ready to get wrecked. Now I feel underdressed for my own deflowering.”

Marc stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and pulled Frank into a deep kiss before either of them could say another word. Their mouths moved slow and hungry, tongues sliding together as Marc’s hands settled on Frank’s waist. When they finally broke apart, Marc rested their foreheads together.

“You look perfect,” Marc murmured. “Exactly how I want you tonight. Relaxed. Mine.”

Frank’s breath caught. “Dinner can wait a little longer if you want.”

Marc shook his head, smiling. “We eat first. Then I take my time with you. No rush.”

They sat down to a simple but thoughtful meal Frank had prepared, grilled chicken with herbs, roasted vegetables, and a good bottle of red wine. Conversation flowed easy, laced with teasing anticipation. Frank kept stealing glances at Marc’s fitted shirt, the way the fabric stretched across his chest. Marc’s foot brushed Frank’s under the table, a deliberate promise.

When the plates were cleared, Marc took Frank’s hand and led him to the bedroom. The lights stayed low, warm and intimate. Marc undressed Frank slowly, peeling the tank top over his head, then sliding the sweatpants down strong, hairy thighs until the older man stood naked and already half hard. Marc kept his own clothes on for now, the contrast making Frank look beautifully vulnerable.

“Lie on your stomach,” Marc said gently, voice steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Frank obeyed, stretching out on the bed. Marc climbed over him, fully clothed, and started with soft kisses down the back of Frank’s neck, across his broad shoulders, then lower along the spine. When he reached the firm curve of Frank’s ass, Marc spread the cheeks with careful hands and pressed his mouth there.

Frank gasped at the first wet lick. “Marc… fuck.”

Marc hummed against the tight ring, tongue circling slow and thorough. “You taste so good. Just relax for me. Tell me if anything feels too much.”

He rimmed Frank with patient devotion, tongue pushing inside, licking deep and wet while one hand stroked the back of Frank’s thigh. Frank’s breathing grew ragged, hips pushing back instinctively.

“Feels incredible,” Frank groaned. “Do not stop. I… I never let anyone do this before. Not like this.”

Marc smiled against his skin. “Good. I want you to feel every second. You are safe with me. Let go of that control you always carry.”

He added a slick finger, sliding it in alongside his tongue, gentle but insistent. Frank moaned louder, the sound raw and surprised. Marc worked him open with one finger, then two, scissoring carefully, curling to brush the prostate until Frank’s cock leaked steadily onto the sheets.

“Marc… please. I need more. I need you inside me.”

Marc kissed the small of his back. “I am right here. Tell me how it feels when I add another.”

He pushed in a third finger, slow and slick, watching Frank’s body open for him. Frank’s hands fisted the sheets, but his voice stayed honest, trembling with pleasure.

“So full. Burns a little but… god, it is good. Keep going. I trust you.”

Marc took his time, fingering him deep and steady, whispering praise the whole time. “You are doing so well. Look at you, taking my fingers like this. So beautiful when you let go. I am going to fuck you now, okay? Slow at first. You say stop and I stop.”

Frank nodded into the pillow, voice thick. “Yes. Fuck me, Marc. I want it. I want to feel you.”

Marc finally stripped, his cock hard and flushed. He slicked himself generously, then positioned himself between Frank’s spread thighs. The first push was careful, just the head breaching the tight ring. Frank exhaled sharply.

“Breathe for me,” Marc murmured, one hand stroking Frank’s back. “You are so tight. So perfect. Let me in, baby.”

Inch by inch Marc sank forward until he was buried completely, hips flush against Frank’s ass. He stayed there, letting Frank adjust, kissing his shoulders and whispering.

“How does it feel? Talk to me.”

Frank’s voice cracked with raw honesty. “Full. So fucking full. I have never… never given this up before. But with you it feels right. Move slowly, Marc. Please.”

Marc started slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock over Frank’s prostate with every thrust. The pace built gradually, still controlled, still careful. Frank’s moans grew louder, uninhibited, the grumpy alpha finally surrendering completely.

“More,” Frank gasped. “I can take it. God, you feel so good inside me. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Marc gave him what he asked for, thrusts turning deeper, more passionate, skin slapping wetly. He reached around to stroke Frank’s large cock in time, whispering filthy encouragement.

“You are taking me so well. My strong, beautiful boss letting me fuck him open. You love this, don’t you? Love giving up control to me.”

“Yes,” Frank groaned, pushing back to meet every stroke. “I love it. Do not stop. I am yours tonight.”

They moved together, bodies slick with sweat, the bed creaking under them. Marc fucked him with long, powerful strokes, one hand gripping Frank’s hip, the other still working his cock. Frank’s voice stayed constant, raw and verbal, telling Marc exactly how deep he felt, how perfect it was, how much he needed to come.

When the edge finally hit, Marc buried himself deep and stroked Frank faster. “Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze around my cock when you lose it.”

Frank came hard with a broken shout, cum spilling over Marc’s fist and the sheets. His hole clenched rhythmically, pulling Marc over the edge right behind him. Marc groaned Frank’s name as he pulsed deep inside, filling him with hot spurts.

They collapsed together, breathing hard. Marc stayed inside for a long moment, kissing the back of Frank’s neck, before pulling out gently. He rolled Frank over and kissed him slow and deep, tasting the surrender on his tongue.

Afterward they moved to the shower. Hot water cascaded over them as they stood wrapped in each other’s arms. Marc washed Frank with tender hands, soaping the broad chest and hairy stomach, then lower between his legs. Frank returned every touch, palms gliding over Marc’s lean frame, pulling him close under the spray.

“I never thought I would enjoy that the way I did,” Frank said quietly, forehead resting against Marc’s. “Giving up control. Letting someone else lead. I spent years thinking it would make me weak. But with you… it felt like freedom. Like I could finally breathe.”

Marc smiled, tracing a finger along Frank’s jaw. “You were incredible. So open, so honest. I loved every second of taking care of you. And I love the man you are becoming. Not the grumpy boss anymore. Just you. Real. Mine.”

Frank kissed him softly, water streaming between their lips. “This pitch on Thursday, the team, us… it all feels possible now. Because of you. You crawled under my skin and made me want to be better. I am not going back.”

They lingered in the shower until the water cooled, trading slow kisses and quiet promises. The slow burn that had started on those first runs in the Englischer Garten had finally settled into something steady and bright. A real relationship. A stronger team. A future neither of them had seen coming.

When they finally dried off and climbed back into bed, Frank pulled Marc against his chest and held him close. The city lights glowed beyond the windows, but inside the apartment everything felt warm and certain.

... To be continued

---

If you’re curious, there’s more waiting on my Reddit profile.

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

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

---

If you’re curious, there’s more waiting on my Reddit profile.

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Typical Bavarian Breakfast

Marc woke slowly, the scent of warm, buttery croissants and freshly brewed coffee drifting through the open bedroom door like an invitation. He stretched under the soft sheets, muscles pleasantly sore from the night of deep cuddling and emotional closeness. Sunlight poured across the bed, and when he turned his head, the view hit him like a spark straight to the chest.

Frank stood in the doorway holding a wooden tray laden with fresh pastries, two steaming mugs, and a small bowl of fruit. He wore nothing but a tight black tank top that stretched across his broad, hairy chest and a pair of black sport briefs that left almost nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung to his thick thighs and cupped the heavy bulge of his large penis, the outline clear and already slightly fuller in the morning light. His muscular arms flexed as he balanced the tray, the dark trimmed hair on his chest visible where the tank dipped low. Freshly shaved jawline, neat beard perfectly shaped, short brown hair still tousled from sleep. He looked every inch the confident, older alpha, but the soft smile on his face made the whole picture feel intimate instead of intimidating.

"Morning," Frank said, voice low and warm. "Thought you might be hungry after last night."

Marc propped himself up on one elbow, eyes roaming openly over Frank's body. A lazy grin spread across his face. "Wow. Is this a typical Bavarian breakfast? Strong coffee, fresh croissants, and a half naked boss serving it in his underwear? I could get used to Munich mornings."

Frank let out a deep laugh, the sound rich and genuine, the kind that still felt new from him. He set the tray on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed, knees bracketing Marc's hips. "Careful, Fischer. Keep talking like that and I might have to charge you extra for the view."

Marc's grin widened. "Charge me? With what, your enormous morning wood already trying to escape those briefs?"

That earned another laugh, louder this time. Frank leaned down and attacked, fingers digging gently into Marc's sides in a sudden tickle assault. Marc yelped and squirmed, laughter bubbling out of him as he tried to push the bigger man away. "Hey! No fair, you are way stronger!"

Frank did not stop, his tank top riding up to expose the trimmed dark hair on his lower stomach while his powerful thighs pinned Marc in place. Their bodies pressed together, the heat building fast. Marc's hands grabbed at Frank's arms, feeling the solid muscle flex under his fingers. The tickling slowed, turned into something hotter, Frank's hands sliding under Marc's hoodie from the night before, palms gliding over bare skin.

"You look so good like this," Frank murmured, voice dropping into that deep, dominant register. "Laughing, squirming under me. Makes me want to keep you here all day." He rocked his hips once, letting Marc feel the thick length of his cock hardening inside the tight briefs. "Tell me if this is okay. I like it a little rough sometimes. I want to take you apart, but only if you want it too."

Marc's breath hitched, his own average cock already fully hard and pressing against Frank's thigh. "Yes. God, yes. I like it rough. I like you dominant. Just keep talking to me."

That was all the permission Frank needed. He stripped Marc's hoodie and sweatpants off in one swift motion, leaving him naked on the sheets. Frank's tank top and briefs followed, his large uncut cock springing free, thick and heavy, the flushed head already slick. He pushed Marc's legs apart and settled between them, mouth crashing down in a hungry kiss while one big hand wrapped around both their cocks, stroking them together.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," Frank growled against Marc's lips. "So hard for me already. You want me to fuck you, Fischer? Want me to bury this big cock inside you until you are screaming my name?"

Marc moaned, hips bucking up into the grip. "Yes. Please, Frank."

Frank reached for the lube on the nightstand, slicking his fingers generously. He worked Marc open with two thick digits first, scissoring gently but firmly, curling to hit that spot inside that made Marc arch off the bed. "That good? Tell me if it is too much."

"More," Marc gasped. "I can take it."

Frank added a third finger, stretching him wider, all while stroking Marc's cock with his free hand and whispering filthy praise. "Such a good boy. Taking my fingers so well. Going to feel even better around my cock."

They started in the bed, Frank flipping Marc onto his stomach and sliding in deep from behind in one long thrust. The stretch was perfect, full and burning in the best way. Frank fucked him with deep, powerful strokes, one hand braced beside Marc's head, the other gripping his hip hard enough to leave faint marks. "You feel incredible. So tight. So fucking wet for me." He leaned down, beard scraping Marc's shoulder. "Is this rough enough? You like me pounding you like this?"

"Yes! Harder, Frank. Please."

Frank gave it to him, hips snapping faster, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. They moved to the edge of the bed, Marc bent over it while Frank stood behind, gripping both hips and driving in with raw force. Marc's moans turned into cries, his cock leaking steadily onto the sheets.

Frank pulled out suddenly, spun Marc around, and lifted him like he weighed nothing. "Wrap your legs around me." He carried Marc to the living room, still kissing him, and lowered him onto the wide leather couch. Marc straddled him, sinking back down onto the thick cock in one smooth motion. They fucked like that for long minutes, Marc riding hard while Frank thrust up to meet him, hands roaming everywhere, pinching nipples, slapping Marc's ass with just enough sting to make him gasp.

"Look at you," Frank panted, eyes dark with lust. "Riding my cock so beautifully. You love being full of me, don't you? Tell me."

"I love it," Marc moaned. "Love your big cock stretching me. Fuck me deeper."

Frank stood again, still buried inside, and walked them to the kitchen island. He set Marc on the cool marble edge, legs spread wide, and drove back in with renewed force. The angle was devastating. Marc's back arched, head thrown back as Frank pounded into him, one hand wrapped around Marc's throat lightly, the other stroking his cock.

"Too much?" Frank asked, voice rough but caring. "Tell me if you need me to slow down."

"Do not stop," Marc begged. "I am so close."

Frank grinned, feral and tender at the same time. "Not yet. I have an idea." He pulled out, helped Marc down, and led him back to the bedroom. From the closet he pulled out a black leather harness, simple but sturdy with metal rings and straps that would cross Marc's chest and back.

"Want you to wear this," Frank said, holding it up. "So I can hold onto you tighter while I fuck you. Grip the straps and pull you back onto my cock. Is that okay? You can say no."

Marc's eyes lit up. "Yes. Put it on me."

Frank buckled it around him with careful hands, adjusting the straps so they framed Marc's lean athletic body perfectly, the leather contrasting against his trimmed blond body hair. He turned Marc around and bent him over the bed again, gripping the back straps of the harness like handles. When he thrust back in, the leverage let him pull Marc onto his cock with every stroke, deeper and harder than before. The room filled with the wet sounds of fucking, Marc's loud moans, and Frank's constant stream of praise and questions.

"God, you look so hot in this. Like you were made for me to wreck. Does it feel good when I pull you back like this? Too rough?"

"Perfect," Marc cried out. "Harder. Use me."

Frank fucked him relentlessly, the harness giving him total control, muscles flexing, sweat shining on his hairy chest. They moved once more, this time to the large armchair by the window. Marc sat in Frank's lap facing away, the harness straps still in Frank's fists as he bounced Marc up and down on his thick cock. The morning light poured over them, highlighting every detail: the way Frank's large shaft disappeared into Marc's stretched hole, the flex of powerful thighs, the bounce of Marc's average cock slapping against his own stomach.

"I am close," Frank growled, voice strained. "Want to come together. Stroke yourself for me, Fischer. Let me feel you come while I am buried inside you."

Marc's hand flew to his cock, jerking fast. Frank's thrusts became erratic, deep and punishing. "Come on. Give it to me. I want to feel you squeeze around my cock when you lose it."

Marc came first with a broken shout, the load shooting across his stomach and the harness straps. His hole clenched hard. Frank followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and pulsing deep inside, groaning Marc's name like a prayer as he filled him completely.

They stayed locked together for long minutes, breathing hard, Frank's arms wrapped around Marc from behind, still holding the harness straps gently now. Soft kisses landed on Marc's neck, his shoulder, his jaw.

"You were incredible," Frank whispered. "So perfect for me."

Eventually he pulled out carefully, helped Marc out of the harness, and guided him to the spacious shower. Hot water cascaded over them as they stood under the spray, bodies pressed close. Frank washed Marc with tender hands, soaping every inch, massaging his shoulders and thighs. Marc returned the favor, running soapy palms over Frank's muscular chest, through the dark hair, down the powerful lines of his back and ass. They kissed slowly under the water, no urgency left, just warmth and connection. Frank held Marc against him, arms wrapped tight, foreheads resting together.

"I meant what I said last night," Frank murmured between kisses. "I want this. Us. All of it."

Marc smiled against his lips, the afterglow settling deep in his bones. "Me too."

They lingered in the shower until the water started to cool, trading lazy kisses and quiet touches, the raw heat of the morning giving way to something even sweeter. The slow burn had turned into a steady, passionate flame, and neither of them wanted to put it out.

... To be continued

---

If you’re curious, there’s more waiting on my Reddit profile.

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Lunch Surprise

The office hummed with the usual Friday morning energy, but the air around the coffee machine felt heavier than usual. Marc stood between Josh and Emily, nursing a fresh cup as the three of them kept their voices low. Josh had been cracking a light joke about the latest client email chain, trying to coax a smile out of Marc after the rough week. Emily listened with her usual sharp focus, nodding along while stirring sugar into her own mug.

Marc had kept his distance from Frank all morning, burying himself in the final tweaks to the pitch numbers. The hurt from the previous days still sat heavy in his chest, a dull ache that no amount of professional focus could fully dull.

Frank appeared at the edge of the small kitchenette without warning. His suit was impeccable as always, neat beard trimmed, short brown hair styled perfectly. He stopped a few feet away, hazel eyes locking onto Marc with clear intent.

"Marc," he said quietly, using the first name in front of the others for the first time. "Can we talk? Privately. Just for a minute."

Marc set his coffee down with deliberate calm. His expression stayed neutral, professional, the same mask he had worn since the sharp comments in the meetings. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Klink, but I think I will pass. I just fueled up on coffee to deliver better results for the pitch. Obviously I could not satisfy you enough in the last couple of days, so I need to focus on making sure the numbers are flawless this time."

The words landed with surgical precision. Emily's eyes widened, her spoon freezing mid-stir. Josh's easy grin vanished, replaced by stunned silence. Both of them stood there, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Frank had never taken anything resembling criticism well, especially not in front of the team.

But Frank did not explode.

He stood completely still, the professional mask cracking right there in the open. His jaw tightened, then loosened. His hazel eyes glistened suddenly, growing watery as he blinked hard once, twice. The big, untouchable alpha boss looked small for the first time any of them had ever seen. Speechless.

Josh recovered first. He cleared his throat and turned to Emily with a quick, forced smile. "Emily, could you do me a huge favor and pull the latest supplier data from the shared drive for the afternoon review? I think I need it updated before the meeting."

Emily hesitated, glancing between the three men, but she caught the serious look in Josh's eyes. "Sure. On it." She slipped away, leaving the kitchenette quiet except for the soft hum of the coffee machine.

Josh stepped closer to Frank and placed a firm hand on his broad shoulder. His voice dropped low but carried weight. "Actions and behavior have consequences, Frank. Fix it. He is probably more hurt than you right now."

Frank swallowed hard, the watery shine in his eyes not quite spilling over. He nodded once, short and stiff, then turned and walked back toward his glass-walled office without another word.

At exactly eleven fifty-five Frank's voice came over the internal messaging system. "Team meeting at noon in the main conference room. Mandatory. No exceptions."

The division exchanged nervous glances. Chris muttered something about another temper tantrum. Emily shot Josh a worried look. Marc stayed silent, jaw set, expecting the worst. They filed in at noon with the kind of tension usually reserved for bad quarterly results.

What they found instead surprised everyone.

The long conference table had been set with catering, platters of fresh sandwiches, salads, warm pastries, and bottles of sparkling water. Frank stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, no jacket. He gestured for them all to sit.

"Eat first," he said, voice quieter than usual. "Please."

They settled in, plates filled, but the room remained thick with uncertainty. Frank took a breath, looked around at each face, and began.

"I owe every one of you an apology. Not just for the last couple of days, but for all the time I have been your boss. I have been mean. Snobbish. Sometimes outright bullying. I put myself above the team, pushed too hard, and kept everyone at arm's length because I thought that was strength. I cannot understand why you all stayed as long as you did. The achievements we have pulled off together over the last couple of years, the big projects for the car manufacturers, the way you have delivered under pressure, I am so proud of that. Proud of you. I am embarrassed it took me this long to see what my behavior has done to people. To all of you."

He paused, eyes moving over the table again. Marc sat perfectly still, fork hovering over his plate, face unreadable.

Frank continued, voice steady but raw. "The only thing I ask now is that you stand up. Be open. Be transparent. Tell me when I slip back into the old me. I want to be better. I know my weakness now. It is this need to be strong and untouchable all the time. I sincerely want to change that. Starting today."

The room stayed quiet for a long beat. Emily shifted in her seat, hesitant. Chris looked down at his sandwich, clearly unsure about this sudden new Frank. Marc remained silent, arms crossed now, the hurt still fresh. He had opened Frank up, had seen the tender man underneath, only to be let down hard when the stress hit. People did not change that fast. He did not want to go through it again.

Josh broke the silence with a grin that carried both humor and edge. "Well, damn, Frank. If I had known all it took was one blond runner calling you out on your bullshit to turn you into a decent human being, I would have hired a personal coach years ago. Or at least bought you better running shorts."

The comment hung there, funny and harsh at the same time. Frank stared at Josh for half a second, then burst out laughing. A real, deep, genuine laugh that filled the room and made everyone jump. The team had never heard it before. Frank's shoulders shook, the sound warm and surprised, like he had forgotten he could make it. The tension cracked wide open. Emily smiled. Chris let out a nervous chuckle. Even Marc's mouth twitched, though the skepticism stayed in his eyes.

The rest of lunch passed with lighter conversation, Frank listening more than speaking, asking questions about their workloads and actually hearing the answers. When the plates were cleared and people started filing out, Frank caught Marc's eye.

"Marc, stay a minute. Please. I need to talk to you."

The others left, the door clicking shut behind them. Frank stepped around the table until he stood in front of Marc, close enough for Marc to catch the faint trace of his cologne.

"I am sorry," Frank said, voice low and sincere. "Deeply. I hurt you. I let the stress turn me back into the dickhead I have always been, and you did not deserve any of it. You sparked something good in me. Something I was afraid of. I need your help exploring it. And spending time with you makes me happy. Really happy. Come to my place tonight for dinner. No running beforehand. Just me cooking, and us talking. Please."

Marc looked at him for a long moment, the hurt still there, raw and protective. "I will think about it." He turned toward the door.

Frank reached out and caught his arm, the grip tender, almost pleading. "Please, Marc. I know I hurt you. I have been a complete dickhead. You sparked the good in me. You sparked something I was afraid of, and I guess I need your help exploring it. And spending time with you makes me happy."

Marc hesitated, eyes searching Frank's face. The watery vulnerability from earlier was still there, honest and unguarded. "I will be there around eight," he said finally, voice dry. "Still have to fix the numbers for the big pitch next week."

He left without another word.

At eight o'clock sharp Marc knocked on Frank's door. He had come straight from the office after a long evening of work, dressed completely casual, gray sweatpants, a simple black hoodie, and white sneakers. Comfort over everything.

Frank opened the door and Marc stopped short. The older man looked stunning. Expensive dark trousers and a fitted charcoal button-down that hugged his muscular frame perfectly. Fresh haircut and trim from the barber, neat beard shaped with precision, a hint of expensive cologne in the air. He looked like he had prepared for a perfect date.

Marc glanced down at his own outfit, then back up. "Wow. I am underdressed."

Frank's mouth curved into a soft smile. "You look perfect as ever. Authentic. Not like me."

Marc felt a reluctant warmth creep in despite himself. "You look perfect. And hot. You can change after dinner, but please stay like this for now."

Dinner was incredible. Frank had cooked with obvious care: perfectly seared steak, roasted vegetables, a rich red wine reduction, fresh bread still warm from the oven. He served it at the dining table with quiet focus, pouring wine, making sure Marc's plate was full. They ate slowly, conversation careful at first, then opening up as Frank spoke about his fears, the loneliness he had carried for years, how Marc had walked into his life and made him want more than the untouchable shell he had built.

At the end of the meal Frank stood, stepped around the table, and pressed a very tender kiss to Marc's forehead. "Thank you for coming. I am going to change into something more comfortable."

He returned a few minutes later in soft pajama pants and a loose tank top that showed the dark hair across his chest and the strong lines of his shoulders. Marc had moved to the large sofa, legs stretched out, the hoodie unzipped now.

Frank sat beside him and opened his arms. "Cuddles," he said simply. "No sex. Just holding you. Being near somebody I trust. Feeling the warmth I have not felt in years."

Marc blinked, surprised. He had expected the dinner, the sharp clothes, the apology to lead straight to the bedroom, to hot, possessive sex as makeup. Instead Frank wanted this. Closeness. Tenderness.

Marc shifted closer. Frank pulled him in gently until Marc's head rested against the broad, hairy chest. Strong arms wrapped around him, one hand stroking slowly up and down his back under the hoodie. Their legs tangled on the sofa, Frank's thigh pressed warmly against Marc's. The older man's heartbeat thumped steady and calm beneath Marc's ear. Frank's fingers traced light patterns along Marc's spine, then slipped under the hem of the hoodie to rest on bare skin, warm and reassuring. Marc let out a long breath he had not realized he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time in days.

They stayed like that for a long while, the city lights twinkling through the windows. Frank pressed occasional soft kisses to the top of Marc's head, his neat beard brushing blond hair. No words at first, just the quiet rise and fall of breathing, the solid warmth of Frank's body, the way his muscular arm held Marc close without any demand.

Eventually they moved to the bedroom. Frank guided Marc under the covers, then slid in behind him, pulling the younger man back against his chest. They spooned, Frank's arm draped over Marc's waist, hand resting flat over his heart. Marc turned his head and their lips met in slow, tender kisses, nothing rushed, just soft presses and gentle explorations. Frank's free hand cupped Marc's cheek, thumb brushing along his jawline with aching care.

"I mean it," Frank whispered against Marc's mouth between kisses. "I want this relationship to evolve. Slowly. Honestly. I want to be the man you see when the walls are down."

Marc's eyes stung with unexpected emotion. The hurt was still there, but it felt smaller now, softened by the genuine warmth radiating from the man holding him. "It is hard for me to believe people change this fast," he admitted quietly. "I thought I had opened you up, and then you let me down. I do not want to go through that again."

Frank held him tighter, forehead resting against Marc's. "I know. And I will prove it every day if I have to. No more hiding behind the grumpy boss. You make me want to be better. For the team. For you. For me."

They kissed again, deeper this time but still tender, mouths moving with quiet emotion. No hands wandered lower. No urgency built toward sex. Just closeness, warmth, the steady comfort of two bodies trusting each other in the dark. Marc felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and let them come, silent and cathartic. Frank brushed them away with gentle fingers, then pulled him even closer until there was no space left between them.

They fell asleep like that, tangled together, the slow burn of their connection deepening into something steadier and more real than either had expected. For the first time in years, Frank's apartment and heart did not feel empty. And for the first time since the hurt had settled in, Marc allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this time the change would last.

... To be continued

---

If you’re curious, there’s more waiting on my Reddit profile.

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Evaporating Warmth

Wednesday evening arrived after another grueling day of pitch preparations, but the moment Marc laced up his running shoes in the park, the stress of the office melted into something sharper and far more pleasurable. The run started hard and fast. Frank set a punishing pace from the first stride, his muscular legs driving forward with that disciplined power Marc had come to crave. Their shoulders brushed repeatedly on the narrower stretches of the path, sending electric jolts through Marc's body each time. Sweat poured down Frank's broad back, soaking the tight black compression top until it clung transparently to every ridge of muscle and the dark trimmed hair across his chest. Marc's own tank grew damp quickly, his lean athletic frame shining under the fading light. He could feel his cock growing inside his shorts with every step, half hard and aching by the third kilometer. Frank's bulge looked even more pronounced than usual, the heavy outline of his cock shifting visibly with each powerful stride. Neither of them spoke, but the air between them crackled with raw need.

By the time they slowed to a walk near the fountain, both men were breathing hard and flushed. Frank's hazel eyes met Marc's for a long, heated second.

"My place," Frank said, voice low and rough. "Now."

They barely made it through the door of Frank's apartment before they were on each other. The lock clicked shut and Frank pushed Marc against the wall, claiming his mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. Their hands moved frantically, tugging at damp clothes. Marc pulled Frank's compression top over his head, exposing the full expanse of that muscular, hairy chest. Frank yanked Marc's tank off in one swift motion, then shoved the running shorts down his legs, freeing Marc's uncut cock which sprang up already fully hard, the blond pubic hair slightly longer and neatly trimmed around the base.

Frank's own shorts came off next. His large cock slapped heavily against his stomach, thick and veiny, the flushed head already leaking as the foreskin pulled back. They stumbled toward the couch, still kissing, bodies pressed tight. Frank spun Marc around and bent him over the wide leather armrest, kicking his legs apart.

"Been thinking about this all day," Frank growled against Marc's ear, his neat beard scraping deliciously along the younger man's neck. "Watching you run beside me, that tight ass flexing in those shorts. I need to be inside you."

Marc moaned, pushing back against the solid heat of Frank's body. "Yes. Fuck me, Frank. Hard."

Frank dropped to his knees for a moment, spreading Marc's cheeks with strong hands. His tongue dove in without hesitation, licking broad and wet over Marc's hole, circling the tight ring before pushing inside. Marc cried out, gripping the couch cushions as Frank rimmed him thoroughly, the older man's talented mouth sucking and probing until Marc's legs trembled. Two thick fingers joined the tongue, slick with spit, stretching him open with steady, insistent strokes.

"You are so fucking tight for me," Frank murmured, voice husky. "Going to feel incredible around my cock."

He stood, slicked his large shaft with lube from a small bottle kept in the side table, and lined up the blunt head against Marc's entrance. With one hand braced on Marc's hip and the other guiding his cock, Frank pushed forward. The stretch burned beautifully as the thick length sank in inch by inch, filling Marc completely. When Frank bottomed out, his trimmed pubic hair pressed against Marc's ass, balls heavy and warm.

Marc gasped, pushing back to take every last centimeter. "God, you are so big. Feels so good."

Frank groaned, the sound deep and possessive. He started thrusting then, slow at first, deep rolls of his hips that dragged the fat head of his cock over Marc's prostate with every stroke. The pace built quickly, turning harder, more demanding. Skin slapped against skin, the wet sounds of their fucking filling the apartment. Frank's muscular body covered Marc's from behind, his hairy chest rubbing against Marc's back, sweat slicking between them. One of Frank's strong arms wrapped around Marc's waist, holding him steady while the other reached down to stroke Marc's leaking cock in time with the thrusts.

"Take it," Frank panted, voice rough with lust. "This ass is mine. You are mine right now."

Marc cried out with every deep plunge, the angle perfect, prostate hammered relentlessly. His own average cock throbbed in Frank's grip, pre-cum dripping onto the leather below. The couch creaked under the force of Frank's powerful hips. Marc pushed back to meet every thrust, chasing the overwhelming pleasure.

"I am close," Marc gasped. "Do not stop."

Frank fucked him harder, hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt again and again. "Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze around my cock."

Marc came with a loud moan, body shuddering as thick ropes of cum shot across the leather armrest and onto the floor. His hole clenched tight around Frank's shaft. Frank followed seconds later, burying himself deep and pulsing hard as he filled Marc with hot spurts, groaning low and long against Marc's neck.

They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing ragged. Frank pulled out gently, cum trickling down Marc's thigh. He turned Marc around and kissed him slow and deep, the passion still simmering but now wrapped in tenderness. They collapsed onto the couch, tangled together, Frank pulling Marc against his broad chest.

"You are changing me," Frank said softly, fingers tracing lazy patterns on Marc's thigh. "Making me want to be better. Less of an asshole to the team. More open."

Marc turned his head and kissed Frank's chest right over his heart. "Good. Because I am not going anywhere."

They cleaned up and ordered food, spending the rest of the evening in quiet conversation and soft touches. Marc left late, body deliciously sore and heart full.

Thursday morning at the office, however, the warmth from the night before evaporated under the weight of looming deadlines. The big pitch for the premium car manufacturer had been moved up, and pressure from the partners was mounting. Frank walked into the team meeting with his usual crisp suit and neat beard, but his hazel eyes carried a sharper edge. When Marc presented his updated stakeholder analysis, Frank cut him off mid-sentence.

"This section is sloppy, Fischer," Frank said, voice clipped and cold. "You missed two key risk factors that even Chris caught yesterday. I expect better from someone who is supposed to be supporting me directly. Do it again before lunch."

The room went quiet. Marc felt heat creep up his neck, a mix of embarrassment and hurt. It was the first time Frank had spoken to him like that since their first run together. Emily shot Marc a sympathetic glance. Chris looked uncomfortable. Josh's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Frank.

Marc reworked the analysis and sent it over before lunch, but Frank's reply was a single curt line: "Adequate. Barely." No thanks, no acknowledgment of the late night Marc had pulled to fix it. By Friday the tension had thickened. During a one-on-one in Frank's glass-walled office, Frank barely looked at him while reviewing the latest files.

"You seem distracted lately," Frank said, tone snobbish and distant. "If this relationship is going to affect your performance, we need to rethink it. I do not have time for weakness right now. The partners are breathing down my neck."

The words landed like a slap. Marc kept his face neutral, but inside something twisted. "Understood," he replied quietly before leaving the office.

He spent the rest of the day buried in work, avoiding eye contact with Frank. The grumpy, mean boss had returned full force, and Marc felt the doubt creeping in. Had the closeness been a mistake? Was Frank already pulling away because of the stress?

Josh noticed everything. Late Friday afternoon, after most of the team had left, he knocked once on Frank's office door and stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. He closed the door behind him and stood in front of the desk, arms crossed, his usual easy smile replaced by a serious expression.

"Frank, we need to talk," Josh said, voice calm but firm. "Man to man. No bullshit."

Frank leaned back in his chair, eyebrow raised. "This is not the time, Josh. I have a pitch to finalize."

Josh did not budge. "It is exactly the time. I have watched you for years. The grumpy loner act, the way you push everyone away, the mean comments that keep the team at arm's length. Then Marc shows up. Sporty, smart, openly gay, and suddenly you are different. You smiled in a meeting last week. You gave Chris actual praise. The whole division noticed. You were lighter. Happier."

Frank's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.

Josh continued, leaning forward slightly. "Now you are back to being a dick to him specifically. Cutting him off in meetings, questioning his work when it is actually excellent. I see how he looks at you. He is crazy about you. And I know you feel the same, or you would not have let him get this close. So what is it? Work stress making you doubt everything? Afraid that letting someone in shows weakness? Because from where I am sitting, Marc is the best thing that has happened to you in years. He makes you better. Not just as a boss, but as a person. Do not throw that away because you are scared."

Frank stared at his desk for a long moment, the professional mask cracking. His shoulders sagged slightly. "It is not that simple," he said finally, voice quieter. "I built this reputation for a reason. No one gets close. No vulnerability at work. Then Marc just... walks right in. Makes me feel things I have not felt in a decade. And now with the partners riding my ass on this pitch, I keep thinking what if it all blows up? What if I look weak? What if I lose focus and drag him down with me?"

Josh shook his head. "You are not weak for caring about someone. You are human. And Marc is tough. He can handle the job and whatever this is between you. But only if you stop pushing him away every time things get stressful. Talk to him. Be the guy he sees when you are off the clock. The team needs that version of you. Hell, you need that version of you."

Frank exhaled slowly, running a hand over his neat beard. The words hit deep. For the first time in a long while, the loner alpha felt the weight of his own isolation lifting just a little. "You are a pain in the ass, California," he muttered, but there was no real bite in it.

Josh grinned, the humor returning. "Yeah, but I am right. Fix this before you lose something good."

Frank nodded once, eyes thoughtful. "I will."

Josh left the office, and Frank sat there alone for several minutes, staring out the window toward the park where everything had started. The conversation had struck exactly where it needed to, cracking through the doubts and the old habits. He picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Marc's name, but he set it down again. Tomorrow's run would be the place to start fixing it. In person. The way they had begun.

The weekend could not come soon enough.

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Evaporating Warmth

Wednesday evening arrived after another grueling day of pitch preparations, but the moment Marc laced up his running shoes in the park, the stress of the office melted into something sharper and far more pleasurable. The run started hard and fast. Frank set a punishing pace from the first stride, his muscular legs driving forward with that disciplined power Marc had come to crave. Their shoulders brushed repeatedly on the narrower stretches of the path, sending electric jolts through Marc's body each time. Sweat poured down Frank's broad back, soaking the tight black compression top until it clung transparently to every ridge of muscle and the dark trimmed hair across his chest. Marc's own tank grew damp quickly, his lean athletic frame shining under the fading light. He could feel his cock growing inside his shorts with every step, half hard and aching by the third kilometer. Frank's bulge looked even more pronounced than usual, the heavy outline of his cock shifting visibly with each powerful stride. Neither of them spoke, but the air between them crackled with raw need.

By the time they slowed to a walk near the fountain, both men were breathing hard and flushed. Frank's hazel eyes met Marc's for a long, heated second.

"My place," Frank said, voice low and rough. "Now."

They barely made it through the door of Frank's apartment before they were on each other. The lock clicked shut and Frank pushed Marc against the wall, claiming his mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. Their hands moved frantically, tugging at damp clothes. Marc pulled Frank's compression top over his head, exposing the full expanse of that muscular, hairy chest. Frank yanked Marc's tank off in one swift motion, then shoved the running shorts down his legs, freeing Marc's uncut cock which sprang up already fully hard, the blond pubic hair slightly longer and neatly trimmed around the base.

Frank's own shorts came off next. His large cock slapped heavily against his stomach, thick and veiny, the flushed head already leaking as the foreskin pulled back. They stumbled toward the couch, still kissing, bodies pressed tight. Frank spun Marc around and bent him over the wide leather armrest, kicking his legs apart.

"Been thinking about this all day," Frank growled against Marc's ear, his neat beard scraping deliciously along the younger man's neck. "Watching you run beside me, that tight ass flexing in those shorts. I need to be inside you."

Marc moaned, pushing back against the solid heat of Frank's body. "Yes. Fuck me, Frank. Hard."

Frank dropped to his knees for a moment, spreading Marc's cheeks with strong hands. His tongue dove in without hesitation, licking broad and wet over Marc's hole, circling the tight ring before pushing inside. Marc cried out, gripping the couch cushions as Frank rimmed him thoroughly, the older man's talented mouth sucking and probing until Marc's legs trembled. Two thick fingers joined the tongue, slick with spit, stretching him open with steady, insistent strokes.

"You are so fucking tight for me," Frank murmured, voice husky. "Going to feel incredible around my cock."

He stood, slicked his large shaft with lube from a small bottle kept in the side table, and lined up the blunt head against Marc's entrance. With one hand braced on Marc's hip and the other guiding his cock, Frank pushed forward. The stretch burned beautifully as the thick length sank in inch by inch, filling Marc completely. When Frank bottomed out, his trimmed pubic hair pressed against Marc's ass, balls heavy and warm.

Marc gasped, pushing back to take every last centimeter. "God, you are so big. Feels so good."

Frank groaned, the sound deep and possessive. He started thrusting then, slow at first, deep rolls of his hips that dragged the fat head of his cock over Marc's prostate with every stroke. The pace built quickly, turning harder, more demanding. Skin slapped against skin, the wet sounds of their fucking filling the apartment. Frank's muscular body covered Marc's from behind, his hairy chest rubbing against Marc's back, sweat slicking between them. One of Frank's strong arms wrapped around Marc's waist, holding him steady while the other reached down to stroke Marc's leaking cock in time with the thrusts.

"Take it," Frank panted, voice rough with lust. "This ass is mine. You are mine right now."

Marc cried out with every deep plunge, the angle perfect, prostate hammered relentlessly. His own average cock throbbed in Frank's grip, pre-cum dripping onto the leather below. The couch creaked under the force of Frank's powerful hips. Marc pushed back to meet every thrust, chasing the overwhelming pleasure.

"I am close," Marc gasped. "Do not stop."

Frank fucked him harder, hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt again and again. "Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze around my cock."

Marc came with a loud moan, body shuddering as thick ropes of cum shot across the leather armrest and onto the floor. His hole clenched tight around Frank's shaft. Frank followed seconds later, burying himself deep and pulsing hard as he filled Marc with hot spurts, groaning low and long against Marc's neck.

They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing ragged. Frank pulled out gently, cum trickling down Marc's thigh. He turned Marc around and kissed him slow and deep, the passion still simmering but now wrapped in tenderness. They collapsed onto the couch, tangled together, Frank pulling Marc against his broad chest.

"You are changing me," Frank said softly, fingers tracing lazy patterns on Marc's thigh. "Making me want to be better. Less of an asshole to the team. More open."

Marc turned his head and kissed Frank's chest right over his heart. "Good. Because I am not going anywhere."

They cleaned up and ordered food, spending the rest of the evening in quiet conversation and soft touches. Marc left late, body deliciously sore and heart full.

Thursday morning at the office, however, the warmth from the night before evaporated under the weight of looming deadlines. The big pitch for the premium car manufacturer had been moved up, and pressure from the partners was mounting. Frank walked into the team meeting with his usual crisp suit and neat beard, but his hazel eyes carried a sharper edge. When Marc presented his updated stakeholder analysis, Frank cut him off mid-sentence.

"This section is sloppy, Fischer," Frank said, voice clipped and cold. "You missed two key risk factors that even Chris caught yesterday. I expect better from someone who is supposed to be supporting me directly. Do it again before lunch."

The room went quiet. Marc felt heat creep up his neck, a mix of embarrassment and hurt. It was the first time Frank had spoken to him like that since their first run together. Emily shot Marc a sympathetic glance. Chris looked uncomfortable. Josh's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Frank.

Marc reworked the analysis and sent it over before lunch, but Frank's reply was a single curt line: "Adequate. Barely." No thanks, no acknowledgment of the late night Marc had pulled to fix it. By Friday the tension had thickened. During a one-on-one in Frank's glass-walled office, Frank barely looked at him while reviewing the latest files.

"You seem distracted lately," Frank said, tone snobbish and distant. "If this relationship is going to affect your performance, we need to rethink it. I do not have time for weakness right now. The partners are breathing down my neck."

The words landed like a slap. Marc kept his face neutral, but inside something twisted. "Understood," he replied quietly before leaving the office.

He spent the rest of the day buried in work, avoiding eye contact with Frank. The grumpy, mean boss had returned full force, and Marc felt the doubt creeping in. Had the closeness been a mistake? Was Frank already pulling away because of the stress?

Josh noticed everything. Late Friday afternoon, after most of the team had left, he knocked once on Frank's office door and stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. He closed the door behind him and stood in front of the desk, arms crossed, his usual easy smile replaced by a serious expression.

"Frank, we need to talk," Josh said, voice calm but firm. "Man to man. No bullshit."

Frank leaned back in his chair, eyebrow raised. "This is not the time, Josh. I have a pitch to finalize."

Josh did not budge. "It is exactly the time. I have watched you for years. The grumpy loner act, the way you push everyone away, the mean comments that keep the team at arm's length. Then Marc shows up. Sporty, smart, openly gay, and suddenly you are different. You smiled in a meeting last week. You gave Chris actual praise. The whole division noticed. You were lighter. Happier."

Frank's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.

Josh continued, leaning forward slightly. "Now you are back to being a dick to him specifically. Cutting him off in meetings, questioning his work when it is actually excellent. I see how he looks at you. He is crazy about you. And I know you feel the same, or you would not have let him get this close. So what is it? Work stress making you doubt everything? Afraid that letting someone in shows weakness? Because from where I am sitting, Marc is the best thing that has happened to you in years. He makes you better. Not just as a boss, but as a person. Do not throw that away because you are scared."

Frank stared at his desk for a long moment, the professional mask cracking. His shoulders sagged slightly. "It is not that simple," he said finally, voice quieter. "I built this reputation for a reason. No one gets close. No vulnerability at work. Then Marc just... walks right in. Makes me feel things I have not felt in a decade. And now with the partners riding my ass on this pitch, I keep thinking what if it all blows up? What if I look weak? What if I lose focus and drag him down with me?"

Josh shook his head. "You are not weak for caring about someone. You are human. And Marc is tough. He can handle the job and whatever this is between you. But only if you stop pushing him away every time things get stressful. Talk to him. Be the guy he sees when you are off the clock. The team needs that version of you. Hell, you need that version of you."

Frank exhaled slowly, running a hand over his neat beard. The words hit deep. For the first time in a long while, the loner alpha felt the weight of his own isolation lifting just a little. "You are a pain in the ass, California," he muttered, but there was no real bite in it.

Josh grinned, the humor returning. "Yeah, but I am right. Fix this before you lose something good."

Frank nodded once, eyes thoughtful. "I will."

Josh left the office, and Frank sat there alone for several minutes, staring out the window toward the park where everything had started. The conversation had struck exactly where it needed to, cracking through the doubts and the old habits. He picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Marc's name, but he set it down again. Tomorrow's run would be the place to start fixing it. In person. The way they had begun.

The weekend could not come soon enough.

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

The Aftercare

Marc stayed wrapped in Frank’s arms for several long minutes, the steady thump of the older man’s heartbeat a soothing rhythm against his ear. The afternoon light filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting soft patterns across their still-damp skin. Frank’s fingers continued their slow, absentminded strokes along Marc’s spine, tracing the line of his lean back down to the curve of his ass. It felt surprisingly natural, this quiet closeness after the intensity of what they had just shared.

Eventually Frank shifted, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Marc’s head. “Come on,” he said, voice low and warm in a way Marc had never heard at the office. “Let’s clean up properly and get some food in us. I make a decent omelette when I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

Marc lifted his head and grinned. “Lead the way.”

They showered again, this time without the frantic edge of the first round. Frank took his time soaping Marc’s body under the multiple heads, large hands gliding over every inch with deliberate care. He massaged the residual tension from Marc’s shoulders and thighs, thumbs digging into tight muscles until Marc moaned softly. When Frank’s fingers slipped between his cheeks to rinse away the evidence of their earlier release, the touch lingered, teasing. Marc returned the favor, running his palms over Frank’s hairy chest, feeling the firm swell of his pecs and the way his nipples tightened under the attention. Their cocks stirred again, but they kept it light, trading slow kisses under the spray until the water began to cool.

Dressed in nothing but soft towels wrapped low on their hips, they moved to the open kitchen. Frank cooked with quiet efficiency, cracking eggs, chopping vegetables, and sliding two perfect omelettes onto plates. They ate at the small dining table overlooking the park, legs brushing under the wood. The conversation picked up where it had left off on the bed, deeper now, unguarded.

“I have not done anything like this in a long time,” Frank admitted between bites, hazel eyes steady on Marc’s face. “After my divorce ten years ago I just shut down. Focused on the job, the gym, the runs. It was easier to be the grumpy boss everyone kept their distance from. No one gets close enough to see the cracks. No weakness.”

Marc reached across the table and covered Frank’s hand with his own. “You are not weak for wanting this. For letting me in a little. I see the man under the suit and the attitude. The one who pushed me on those runs without knowing I could outpace you if I wanted. The one who made me feel wanted today.”

Frank’s mouth twitched into a small, genuine smile. “You are too damn perceptive for your own good, Fischer. Marc.” He corrected himself softly, using the first name like a gift. “I like having you here. Makes the apartment feel less empty.”

They lingered over coffee, talking about everything from Marc’s beach volleyball days in Cologne to Frank’s secret love for classical music he played only when alone. By the time the plates were cleared, the air between them had thickened again with heat.

Frank stood and pulled Marc to his feet. “Bedroom,” he said simply, the word carrying both command and invitation.

This time there was no hesitation. They dropped the towels and tumbled onto the sheets, bodies pressing together with fresh hunger. Frank’s mouth claimed Marc’s in a deep, passionate kiss, tongue sliding slow and possessive. His hands roamed, squeezing Marc’s ass, then sliding up to pinch a nipple until Marc arched with a gasp.

“I want to fuck you,” Frank murmured against his lips, voice rough with need. “Been thinking about it since the first shower we shared. But only if you are ready. I will go slow. Make it good for you.”

Marc’s breath caught. His cock throbbed hard between them. “I am ready. I want you inside me.”

Frank took his time preparing him. He rolled Marc onto his stomach and started with a long, luxurious massage, strong thumbs working down his back, over his glutes, then spreading his cheeks. Marc felt the hot press of Frank’s neat beard first, then the wet heat of his tongue circling his hole again, licking and probing with the same tender thoroughness as before. Marc moaned into the pillow, hips pushing back instinctively.

Frank added a finger, slick with lube he had retrieved from the nightstand, sliding it in slow and deep. He worked Marc open patiently, adding a second finger, scissoring gently until Marc was rocking back onto his hand, begging quietly.

“Please, Frank. I need you.”

Frank flipped him onto his back so they could see each other. He slicked his large cock thoroughly, the thick uncut shaft glistening, head flushed and leaking. Positioning himself between Marc’s spread thighs, he pressed the blunt head against Marc’s entrance and pushed forward with exquisite control. Marc felt the stretch, the burn, then the overwhelming fullness as Frank sank in inch by inch. Their eyes locked the entire time.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Frank groaned, voice strained with the effort of holding still. “So tight. So perfect.”

Marc’s hands gripped Frank’s shoulders, nails digging into the muscle there. “Move. Please.”

Frank started slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his thick cock over Marc’s prostate with every thrust. The pace built gradually, sensual and loving at first, then turning more passionate as Marc’s moans grew louder. Frank’s muscular body covered him, hairy chest rubbing against Marc’s smoother one, sweat slicking their skin. He fucked Marc with controlled power, one hand braced beside his head, the other stroking Marc’s average cock in time with his thrusts.

“You are mine right now,” Frank whispered, the words possessive but wrapped in tenderness. “All mine.”

Marc came first, crying out as pleasure crashed through him, painting his own stomach and chest with thick ropes. The sight pushed Frank over the edge seconds later. He buried himself deep and came hard, pulsing inside Marc with a low, guttural groan. They stayed locked together, breathing ragged, until Frank finally pulled out gently and collapsed beside him.

Aftercare was immediate and sweet. Frank fetched a warm cloth and cleaned them both with careful strokes, then pulled Marc back into his arms. They cuddled in the afterglow, Frank’s fingers carding through Marc’s blond hair.

“This changes things,” Frank said quietly. “At work I still have to be the boss. But with you… I do not want to hide anymore. Not completely.”

Marc kissed his chest. “We take it one step at a time. No rush.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon like that, talking and touching until Marc finally dressed to head home. The goodbye kiss at the door was long and lingering.

Monday morning at the office felt surreal. Marc walked in with a secret buzzing under his skin. Frank was already at his desk, suit impeccable, neat beard trimmed, the alpha boss mask firmly in place. Yet when he addressed the team in the morning huddle, the usual sharp edge was dulled just a fraction.

“Chris, your numbers on the supplier analysis were actually useful this time,” Frank said, nodding once. “Build on that for the pitch.”

Chris blinked in surprise. Emily shot Marc a quick, confused glance. Josh, ever observant, raised an eyebrow at Marc across the table.

The day passed in a haze of work, but the stolen glances between Marc and Frank were electric. When Frank dropped a file on Marc’s desk, their fingers brushed. Frank’s hazel eyes darkened for a split second before he walked away. Marc’s cock twitched at the memory of how that same man had looked above him yesterday, buried deep inside him.

At lunch Josh cornered him near the coffee machine. “Okay, spill. You are glowing like you won the lottery and got laid in the same weekend. And Frank just gave Chris a compliment? What alternate universe did I wake up in?”

Marc laughed softly, keeping his voice low. “Let’s just say the running group is… going well. Really well. I am seeing a different side of him.”

Josh’s grin widened. “I knew it. You absolute legend. Just be careful, yeah? Bosses and complications and all that. But if anyone can handle it, it is you.”

The week continued with the same delicious undercurrent. Tuesday’s run was charged from the start. They pushed harder than ever, shoulders brushing constantly, bodies slick with sweat. In the office locker room afterward the showers felt like foreplay. Frank’s gaze raked over Marc’s naked form, his own large cock half hard and obvious. They did not touch, but the promise hung heavy in the steam.

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

The Aftercare

Marc stayed wrapped in Frank’s arms for several long minutes, the steady thump of the older man’s heartbeat a soothing rhythm against his ear. The afternoon light filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting soft patterns across their still-damp skin. Frank’s fingers continued their slow, absentminded strokes along Marc’s spine, tracing the line of his lean back down to the curve of his ass. It felt surprisingly natural, this quiet closeness after the intensity of what they had just shared.

Eventually Frank shifted, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Marc’s head. “Come on,” he said, voice low and warm in a way Marc had never heard at the office. “Let’s clean up properly and get some food in us. I make a decent omelette when I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

Marc lifted his head and grinned. “Lead the way.”

They showered again, this time without the frantic edge of the first round. Frank took his time soaping Marc’s body under the multiple heads, large hands gliding over every inch with deliberate care. He massaged the residual tension from Marc’s shoulders and thighs, thumbs digging into tight muscles until Marc moaned softly. When Frank’s fingers slipped between his cheeks to rinse away the evidence of their earlier release, the touch lingered, teasing. Marc returned the favor, running his palms over Frank’s hairy chest, feeling the firm swell of his pecs and the way his nipples tightened under the attention. Their cocks stirred again, but they kept it light, trading slow kisses under the spray until the water began to cool.

Dressed in nothing but soft towels wrapped low on their hips, they moved to the open kitchen. Frank cooked with quiet efficiency, cracking eggs, chopping vegetables, and sliding two perfect omelettes onto plates. They ate at the small dining table overlooking the park, legs brushing under the wood. The conversation picked up where it had left off on the bed, deeper now, unguarded.

“I have not done anything like this in a long time,” Frank admitted between bites, hazel eyes steady on Marc’s face. “After my divorce ten years ago I just shut down. Focused on the job, the gym, the runs. It was easier to be the grumpy boss everyone kept their distance from. No one gets close enough to see the cracks. No weakness.”

Marc reached across the table and covered Frank’s hand with his own. “You are not weak for wanting this. For letting me in a little. I see the man under the suit and the attitude. The one who pushed me on those runs without knowing I could outpace you if I wanted. The one who made me feel wanted today.”

Frank’s mouth twitched into a small, genuine smile. “You are too damn perceptive for your own good, Fischer. Marc.” He corrected himself softly, using the first name like a gift. “I like having you here. Makes the apartment feel less empty.”

They lingered over coffee, talking about everything from Marc’s beach volleyball days in Cologne to Frank’s secret love for classical music he played only when alone. By the time the plates were cleared, the air between them had thickened again with heat.

Frank stood and pulled Marc to his feet. “Bedroom,” he said simply, the word carrying both command and invitation.

This time there was no hesitation. They dropped the towels and tumbled onto the sheets, bodies pressing together with fresh hunger. Frank’s mouth claimed Marc’s in a deep, passionate kiss, tongue sliding slow and possessive. His hands roamed, squeezing Marc’s ass, then sliding up to pinch a nipple until Marc arched with a gasp.

“I want to fuck you,” Frank murmured against his lips, voice rough with need. “Been thinking about it since the first shower we shared. But only if you are ready. I will go slow. Make it good for you.”

Marc’s breath caught. His cock throbbed hard between them. “I am ready. I want you inside me.”

Frank took his time preparing him. He rolled Marc onto his stomach and started with a long, luxurious massage, strong thumbs working down his back, over his glutes, then spreading his cheeks. Marc felt the hot press of Frank’s neat beard first, then the wet heat of his tongue circling his hole again, licking and probing with the same tender thoroughness as before. Marc moaned into the pillow, hips pushing back instinctively.

Frank added a finger, slick with lube he had retrieved from the nightstand, sliding it in slow and deep. He worked Marc open patiently, adding a second finger, scissoring gently until Marc was rocking back onto his hand, begging quietly.

“Please, Frank. I need you.”

Frank flipped him onto his back so they could see each other. He slicked his large cock thoroughly, the thick uncut shaft glistening, head flushed and leaking. Positioning himself between Marc’s spread thighs, he pressed the blunt head against Marc’s entrance and pushed forward with exquisite control. Marc felt the stretch, the burn, then the overwhelming fullness as Frank sank in inch by inch. Their eyes locked the entire time.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Frank groaned, voice strained with the effort of holding still. “So tight. So perfect.”

Marc’s hands gripped Frank’s shoulders, nails digging into the muscle there. “Move. Please.”

Frank started slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his thick cock over Marc’s prostate with every thrust. The pace built gradually, sensual and loving at first, then turning more passionate as Marc’s moans grew louder. Frank’s muscular body covered him, hairy chest rubbing against Marc’s smoother one, sweat slicking their skin. He fucked Marc with controlled power, one hand braced beside his head, the other stroking Marc’s average cock in time with his thrusts.

“You are mine right now,” Frank whispered, the words possessive but wrapped in tenderness. “All mine.”

Marc came first, crying out as pleasure crashed through him, painting his own stomach and chest with thick ropes. The sight pushed Frank over the edge seconds later. He buried himself deep and came hard, pulsing inside Marc with a low, guttural groan. They stayed locked together, breathing ragged, until Frank finally pulled out gently and collapsed beside him.

Aftercare was immediate and sweet. Frank fetched a warm cloth and cleaned them both with careful strokes, then pulled Marc back into his arms. They cuddled in the afterglow, Frank’s fingers carding through Marc’s blond hair.

“This changes things,” Frank said quietly. “At work I still have to be the boss. But with you… I do not want to hide anymore. Not completely.”

Marc kissed his chest. “We take it one step at a time. No rush.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon like that, talking and touching until Marc finally dressed to head home. The goodbye kiss at the door was long and lingering.

Monday morning at the office felt surreal. Marc walked in with a secret buzzing under his skin. Frank was already at his desk, suit impeccable, neat beard trimmed, the alpha boss mask firmly in place. Yet when he addressed the team in the morning huddle, the usual sharp edge was dulled just a fraction.

“Chris, your numbers on the supplier analysis were actually useful this time,” Frank said, nodding once. “Build on that for the pitch.”

Chris blinked in surprise. Emily shot Marc a quick, confused glance. Josh, ever observant, raised an eyebrow at Marc across the table.

The day passed in a haze of work, but the stolen glances between Marc and Frank were electric. When Frank dropped a file on Marc’s desk, their fingers brushed. Frank’s hazel eyes darkened for a split second before he walked away. Marc’s cock twitched at the memory of how that same man had looked above him yesterday, buried deep inside him.

At lunch Josh cornered him near the coffee machine. “Okay, spill. You are glowing like you won the lottery and got laid in the same weekend. And Frank just gave Chris a compliment? What alternate universe did I wake up in?”

Marc laughed softly, keeping his voice low. “Let’s just say the running group is… going well. Really well. I am seeing a different side of him.”

Josh’s grin widened. “I knew it. You absolute legend. Just be careful, yeah? Bosses and complications and all that. But if anyone can handle it, it is you.”

The week continued with the same delicious undercurrent. Tuesday’s run was charged from the start. They pushed harder than ever, shoulders brushing constantly, bodies slick with sweat. In the office locker room afterward the showers felt like foreplay. Frank’s gaze raked over Marc’s naked form, his own large cock half hard and obvious. They did not touch, but the promise hung heavy in the steam.

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Breaking the Silence

Sunday morning arrived with a crisp, golden light filtering through the trees of the Englischer Garten. Marc had barely slept, his body already buzzing from the memory of Friday's shower. The way Frank's large cock had thickened under the spray, the heated stare they had shared with no words spoken, the heavy silence that had followed them out of the locker room. Marc's cock had been painfully hard the entire walk home, and he had jerked off twice that night thinking about it. Now, as he stretched against the familiar tree near the Chinese Tower, he felt the tension coiled tight in his chest like a spring ready to snap.

Frank appeared right on time, seven sharp, dressed in the same tight black running kit that had become a uniform of sorts. The compression fabric clung to every ridge of his muscular forty six year old body, the dark trimmed hair on his chest visible through the dampening material even before they started. His thighs flexed powerfully as he approached, and that heavy bulge between them pressed forward unmistakably, thick and prominent. Marc's gaze lingered there for a second too long before he forced it upward.

"Ready?" Frank asked, voice low and clipped as always.

Marc nodded, and they set off without another word.

The run started harder than usual. Frank pushed the pace from the first kilometer, legs driving forward with disciplined power. Marc matched him effortlessly, his lean athletic frame moving smoothly beside the older man. Their breathing fell into sync, steady and deep. Shoulders brushed on the narrower sections of the path, each contact sending sparks across Marc's skin. Sweat began to build quickly under the morning sun, darkening the front of Frank's top and making the fabric cling transparently to his nipples and the defined lines of his abs. Marc felt his own tank grow damp, his trimmed blond body hair matting against his chest.

They covered nearly ten kilometers in near silence, the only sounds their rhythmic footfalls and the occasional huff of breath. Marc's mind raced the entire time. The tension from the showers, the lingering looks, the way Frank's large uncut cock had swelled visibly under the water. It had been building for weeks now, this slow burn of heat and unspoken want. Marc could not take it anymore. His cock was already half hard inside his shorts, aching with every stride.

Near the quieter northern edge of the park, where the path curved into a secluded stretch lined with thick bushes and ancient oaks, Marc made his decision. He slowed abruptly and reached out, fingers brushing Frank's forearm.

"Wait," Marc said, voice rough. "Frank, stop."

Frank slowed to a walk, then turned, chest heaving, hazel eyes narrowing slightly. "What is it? Cramping?"

Marc shook his head, stepping closer until they stood face to face on the empty path. His heart hammered against his ribs. "No. I just. I cannot keep pretending this tension is not there. In the showers. Friday. We were both hard. We looked at each other. Nothing happened, and neither of us said a word. But I have been going out of my mind since then."

Frank's expression remained professional at first, jaw tight, arms crossing over his broad chest. The alpha boss mask slid firmly into place. "Fischer, this is not appropriate. We work together. I am your superior."

Marc held his ground, breathing still quick from the run. "I know that. And I am not asking for some office fling. But I am openly gay, Frank. I like you. The dad type. The way you are during these runs, the way your body looks in those shorts, the way you push me. I have been craving more since the first time we showered together. I masturbate after every single run. Every time. Thinking about you. About that big cock of yours. About what it would feel like if you touched me."

The words hung in the air between them. Marc's cheeks burned, but he did not look away. Frank stared at him, the professional facade cracking just enough for something raw to flicker in his eyes. He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his neat beard.

"Fuck," Frank muttered, voice dropping. The snobbish edge softened. "You are really going to put it out there like that."

Marc nodded. "I have to. The tension is killing me."

Frank glanced around the empty path, then back at Marc. His own cock had thickened noticeably in his tight shorts, the large outline pressing heavily against the fabric. He let out a short, rough laugh that sounded almost surprised.

"All right," he said, the words coming out quieter. "Since we are being honest. I do the same thing. After every run. Every shower. I go home, strip down, and stroke myself thinking about your tight little body under that tank top. About how you keep up with me without breaking a sweat. About bending you over in that locker room and finally giving in. I have not let myself want anyone like this in years. Not at work. Not anywhere. I keep everything locked down. No weakness."

The admission hit Marc like a wave of heat. Frank's hazel eyes held his now, no longer guarded but open, hungry. The grumpy, untouchable boss was still there, but underneath it something else had surfaced. Vulnerable. Wanting.

"My place is not far," Frank continued, voice lower. "Just across from the park. We can shower there. Properly. No one around. No rush."

Marc's pulse spiked. "Yes. Please."

They walked the short distance in charged silence, bodies still buzzing from the run. Frank's apartment was a sleek, modern loft on the top floor of a quiet building overlooking the green space. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Frank turned and pulled Marc close. No words at first. Just strong hands on Marc's waist, pulling him in until their sweat damp bodies pressed together.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted this," Frank murmured against Marc's ear, the neat beard brushing his jaw. His voice had lost all the professional sharpness. It was deep, sensual, almost tender.

He kissed Marc then, slow and deep, nothing like the alpha show off from the office. It was loving, passionate, the kind of kiss that explored and savored. Marc melted into it, hands sliding up over Frank's broad, hairy chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the damp compression top. Frank's large cock pressed hard against Marc's stomach, thick and insistent through the fabric.

They stripped each other right there in the living room, clothes dropping to the floor. Frank's body was even more impressive up close: muscular, trimmed dark hair across his chest and stomach, powerful arms and thick thighs. His cock stood fully hard now, large and uncut, the heavy shaft curving slightly upward, foreskin pulled back to reveal a flushed, leaking head. Marc's own cock throbbed between them, uncut and already slick at the tip.

"Shower first," Frank said, taking Marc's hand. "I want to take my time with you."

The bathroom was spacious and luxurious, glass walled shower with multiple heads. Hot water cascaded over them as soon as they stepped inside. Frank turned Marc under the spray and began to massage his shoulders, strong hands working the tension from the run out of his lean muscles. It was sensual, almost reverent. Fingers kneaded down Marc's back, thumbs pressing into the small of his spine, then lower over his firm ass.

"You are so tight here," Frank whispered, voice husky. "So fucking beautiful."

Marc moaned softly as Frank dropped to his knees behind him. The older man spread Marc's cheeks gently and pressed his face in, tongue tracing slow, loving circles around his hole. The rimming was tender and thorough, Frank's neat beard brushing the sensitive skin while his tongue pushed inside, tasting and opening him. Marc braced his hands against the tile, legs shaking with pleasure.

"Frank. God," he gasped.

Frank stood after several long minutes, turning Marc around and kissing him again, deep and passionate. Water streamed between their bodies. "On your knees," he said, the command soft but firm. "I need to feel that pretty mouth."

Marc sank down willingly, water beating against his back. He took Frank's large cock in both hands first, stroking the thick length, pulling the foreskin back and forth over the swollen head. Then he leaned in and wrapped his lips around it, sucking slowly, savoring the taste. Frank groaned, one hand gentle on the back of Marc's head, guiding but never forcing.

"That's it. Just like that. You look so good with my cock in your mouth."

Marc worked him with loving strokes of his tongue, taking as much as he could, hollowing his cheeks. Frank's hips rocked gently, sensual and controlled. The passion between them built steadily, no rush, just heat and connection.

After a while Frank pulled him up, kissing him hard. "I want to fuck you so badly," he murmured against Marc's lips. "Want to feel how tight you are around me. But only when you are ready. I can wait."

Marc nodded, breathless. "Next time. I want that too. But for now. I want to feel you come on me."

Frank's eyes darkened with lust. He turned off the water and led Marc to the large bed in the bedroom, towels abandoned. They stretched out together, bodies still damp. Frank's hands roamed everywhere, massaging Marc's chest, his thighs, stroking his average cock with slow, perfect twists of his wrist. Marc did the same, wrapping his hand around Frank's thick shaft, jerking him in time.

They kissed and touched for what felt like hours, the sex tender and intense. Frank's mouth found Marc's nipples, sucking gently, then lower to lick along the trimmed blond treasure trail. When they finally stroked each other in earnest, bodies pressed close, the pace quickened just enough. Frank's large cock pulsed in Marc's grip, leaking steadily.

"Come for me," Frank whispered, voice loving and rough at the same time. "I want to watch you."

Marc came first with a shuddering moan, thick ropes of cum landing across his own flat stomach and chest. Frank followed seconds later, groaning deep as he painted Marc's body with hot spurts from his large cock, mixing their releases together on Marc's skin.

They collapsed beside each other, breathing hard. Frank pulled Marc close without hesitation, strong arms wrapping around him in a cuddle that felt surprisingly natural. His hand stroked Marc's back slowly, tenderly. The grumpy alpha was gone. In his place was a man who seemed almost relieved to let the walls down.

"I do not do this," Frank said quietly after a long silence. "The whole relationship thing. Or even casual. I keep everyone at a distance. Work is everything. The runs were the only thing that kept me sane. Then you showed up. Smart. Sporty. Happy. You crawled right under my skin without even trying."

Marc nestled against Frank's hairy chest, listening to the steady heartbeat. "I moved here for the job. Left everything in Cologne. I was ready for the pressure, but I was not ready for you. The way you are at the office, all snobbish and mean sometimes. I saw through it though. There is more to you. I wanted to find it."

Frank's fingers traced lazy circles on Marc's shoulder. "I have not been out at work for a reason. Shows weakness. Or at least I thought it did. My last relationship ended badly years ago. After that I just buried myself in the gym and the job. Became the asshole boss everyone complains about. Easier that way."

Marc lifted his head to look at him. "You are not an asshole. Not really. Not with me. Not like this."

Frank smiled, the expression softening his whole face. It was the first real smile Marc had seen on him. "You bring it out of me. Makes me want to be better. For the team. For you."

They lay there for a long time, talking quietly about everything and nothing. Frank admitted how lonely the loner life had become. Marc shared stories from Cologne, his love for winter sports and beach volleyball, the excitement and nerves of starting fresh in Munich. The conversation flowed easy, deeper than any they had managed before. No pressure, no walls.

Eventually Frank kissed the top of Marc's head. "Stay for a bit longer if you want. I can make us something to eat after we clean up."

Marc smiled against his chest. "I would like that."

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Breaking the Silence

Sunday morning arrived with a crisp, golden light filtering through the trees of the Englischer Garten. Marc had barely slept, his body already buzzing from the memory of Friday's shower. The way Frank's large cock had thickened under the spray, the heated stare they had shared with no words spoken, the heavy silence that had followed them out of the locker room. Marc's cock had been painfully hard the entire walk home, and he had jerked off twice that night thinking about it. Now, as he stretched against the familiar tree near the Chinese Tower, he felt the tension coiled tight in his chest like a spring ready to snap.

Frank appeared right on time, seven sharp, dressed in the same tight black running kit that had become a uniform of sorts. The compression fabric clung to every ridge of his muscular forty six year old body, the dark trimmed hair on his chest visible through the dampening material even before they started. His thighs flexed powerfully as he approached, and that heavy bulge between them pressed forward unmistakably, thick and prominent. Marc's gaze lingered there for a second too long before he forced it upward.

"Ready?" Frank asked, voice low and clipped as always.

Marc nodded, and they set off without another word.

The run started harder than usual. Frank pushed the pace from the first kilometer, legs driving forward with disciplined power. Marc matched him effortlessly, his lean athletic frame moving smoothly beside the older man. Their breathing fell into sync, steady and deep. Shoulders brushed on the narrower sections of the path, each contact sending sparks across Marc's skin. Sweat began to build quickly under the morning sun, darkening the front of Frank's top and making the fabric cling transparently to his nipples and the defined lines of his abs. Marc felt his own tank grow damp, his trimmed blond body hair matting against his chest.

They covered nearly ten kilometers in near silence, the only sounds their rhythmic footfalls and the occasional huff of breath. Marc's mind raced the entire time. The tension from the showers, the lingering looks, the way Frank's large uncut cock had swelled visibly under the water. It had been building for weeks now, this slow burn of heat and unspoken want. Marc could not take it anymore. His cock was already half hard inside his shorts, aching with every stride.

Near the quieter northern edge of the park, where the path curved into a secluded stretch lined with thick bushes and ancient oaks, Marc made his decision. He slowed abruptly and reached out, fingers brushing Frank's forearm.

"Wait," Marc said, voice rough. "Frank, stop."

Frank slowed to a walk, then turned, chest heaving, hazel eyes narrowing slightly. "What is it? Cramping?"

Marc shook his head, stepping closer until they stood face to face on the empty path. His heart hammered against his ribs. "No. I just. I cannot keep pretending this tension is not there. In the showers. Friday. We were both hard. We looked at each other. Nothing happened, and neither of us said a word. But I have been going out of my mind since then."

Frank's expression remained professional at first, jaw tight, arms crossing over his broad chest. The alpha boss mask slid firmly into place. "Fischer, this is not appropriate. We work together. I am your superior."

Marc held his ground, breathing still quick from the run. "I know that. And I am not asking for some office fling. But I am openly gay, Frank. I like you. The dad type. The way you are during these runs, the way your body looks in those shorts, the way you push me. I have been craving more since the first time we showered together. I masturbate after every single run. Every time. Thinking about you. About that big cock of yours. About what it would feel like if you touched me."

The words hung in the air between them. Marc's cheeks burned, but he did not look away. Frank stared at him, the professional facade cracking just enough for something raw to flicker in his eyes. He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his neat beard.

"Fuck," Frank muttered, voice dropping. The snobbish edge softened. "You are really going to put it out there like that."

Marc nodded. "I have to. The tension is killing me."

Frank glanced around the empty path, then back at Marc. His own cock had thickened noticeably in his tight shorts, the large outline pressing heavily against the fabric. He let out a short, rough laugh that sounded almost surprised.

"All right," he said, the words coming out quieter. "Since we are being honest. I do the same thing. After every run. Every shower. I go home, strip down, and stroke myself thinking about your tight little body under that tank top. About how you keep up with me without breaking a sweat. About bending you over in that locker room and finally giving in. I have not let myself want anyone like this in years. Not at work. Not anywhere. I keep everything locked down. No weakness."

The admission hit Marc like a wave of heat. Frank's hazel eyes held his now, no longer guarded but open, hungry. The grumpy, untouchable boss was still there, but underneath it something else had surfaced. Vulnerable. Wanting.

"My place is not far," Frank continued, voice lower. "Just across from the park. We can shower there. Properly. No one around. No rush."

Marc's pulse spiked. "Yes. Please."

They walked the short distance in charged silence, bodies still buzzing from the run. Frank's apartment was a sleek, modern loft on the top floor of a quiet building overlooking the green space. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Frank turned and pulled Marc close. No words at first. Just strong hands on Marc's waist, pulling him in until their sweat damp bodies pressed together.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted this," Frank murmured against Marc's ear, the neat beard brushing his jaw. His voice had lost all the professional sharpness. It was deep, sensual, almost tender.

He kissed Marc then, slow and deep, nothing like the alpha show off from the office. It was loving, passionate, the kind of kiss that explored and savored. Marc melted into it, hands sliding up over Frank's broad, hairy chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the damp compression top. Frank's large cock pressed hard against Marc's stomach, thick and insistent through the fabric.

They stripped each other right there in the living room, clothes dropping to the floor. Frank's body was even more impressive up close: muscular, trimmed dark hair across his chest and stomach, powerful arms and thick thighs. His cock stood fully hard now, large and uncut, the heavy shaft curving slightly upward, foreskin pulled back to reveal a flushed, leaking head. Marc's own cock throbbed between them, uncut and already slick at the tip.

"Shower first," Frank said, taking Marc's hand. "I want to take my time with you."

The bathroom was spacious and luxurious, glass walled shower with multiple heads. Hot water cascaded over them as soon as they stepped inside. Frank turned Marc under the spray and began to massage his shoulders, strong hands working the tension from the run out of his lean muscles. It was sensual, almost reverent. Fingers kneaded down Marc's back, thumbs pressing into the small of his spine, then lower over his firm ass.

"You are so tight here," Frank whispered, voice husky. "So fucking beautiful."

Marc moaned softly as Frank dropped to his knees behind him. The older man spread Marc's cheeks gently and pressed his face in, tongue tracing slow, loving circles around his hole. The rimming was tender and thorough, Frank's neat beard brushing the sensitive skin while his tongue pushed inside, tasting and opening him. Marc braced his hands against the tile, legs shaking with pleasure.

"Frank. God," he gasped.

Frank stood after several long minutes, turning Marc around and kissing him again, deep and passionate. Water streamed between their bodies. "On your knees," he said, the command soft but firm. "I need to feel that pretty mouth."

Marc sank down willingly, water beating against his back. He took Frank's large cock in both hands first, stroking the thick length, pulling the foreskin back and forth over the swollen head. Then he leaned in and wrapped his lips around it, sucking slowly, savoring the taste. Frank groaned, one hand gentle on the back of Marc's head, guiding but never forcing.

"That's it. Just like that. You look so good with my cock in your mouth."

Marc worked him with loving strokes of his tongue, taking as much as he could, hollowing his cheeks. Frank's hips rocked gently, sensual and controlled. The passion between them built steadily, no rush, just heat and connection.

After a while Frank pulled him up, kissing him hard. "I want to fuck you so badly," he murmured against Marc's lips. "Want to feel how tight you are around me. But only when you are ready. I can wait."

Marc nodded, breathless. "Next time. I want that too. But for now. I want to feel you come on me."

Frank's eyes darkened with lust. He turned off the water and led Marc to the large bed in the bedroom, towels abandoned. They stretched out together, bodies still damp. Frank's hands roamed everywhere, massaging Marc's chest, his thighs, stroking his average cock with slow, perfect twists of his wrist. Marc did the same, wrapping his hand around Frank's thick shaft, jerking him in time.

They kissed and touched for what felt like hours, the sex tender and intense. Frank's mouth found Marc's nipples, sucking gently, then lower to lick along the trimmed blond treasure trail. When they finally stroked each other in earnest, bodies pressed close, the pace quickened just enough. Frank's large cock pulsed in Marc's grip, leaking steadily.

"Come for me," Frank whispered, voice loving and rough at the same time. "I want to watch you."

Marc came first with a shuddering moan, thick ropes of cum landing across his own flat stomach and chest. Frank followed seconds later, groaning deep as he painted Marc's body with hot spurts from his large cock, mixing their releases together on Marc's skin.

They collapsed beside each other, breathing hard. Frank pulled Marc close without hesitation, strong arms wrapping around him in a cuddle that felt surprisingly natural. His hand stroked Marc's back slowly, tenderly. The grumpy alpha was gone. In his place was a man who seemed almost relieved to let the walls down.

"I do not do this," Frank said quietly after a long silence. "The whole relationship thing. Or even casual. I keep everyone at a distance. Work is everything. The runs were the only thing that kept me sane. Then you showed up. Smart. Sporty. Happy. You crawled right under my skin without even trying."

Marc nestled against Frank's hairy chest, listening to the steady heartbeat. "I moved here for the job. Left everything in Cologne. I was ready for the pressure, but I was not ready for you. The way you are at the office, all snobbish and mean sometimes. I saw through it though. There is more to you. I wanted to find it."

Frank's fingers traced lazy circles on Marc's shoulder. "I have not been out at work for a reason. Shows weakness. Or at least I thought it did. My last relationship ended badly years ago. After that I just buried myself in the gym and the job. Became the asshole boss everyone complains about. Easier that way."

Marc lifted his head to look at him. "You are not an asshole. Not really. Not with me. Not like this."

Frank smiled, the expression softening his whole face. It was the first real smile Marc had seen on him. "You bring it out of me. Makes me want to be better. For the team. For you."

They lay there for a long time, talking quietly about everything and nothing. Frank admitted how lonely the loner life had become. Marc shared stories from Cologne, his love for winter sports and beach volleyball, the excitement and nerves of starting fresh in Munich. The conversation flowed easy, deeper than any they had managed before. No pressure, no walls.

Eventually Frank kissed the top of Marc's head. "Stay for a bit longer if you want. I can make us something to eat after we clean up."

Marc smiled against his chest. "I would like that."

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Unspoken Heat

Marc woke up on Wednesday morning with a pleasant ache in his legs from the previous evening's run. The apartment in Schwabing was still half filled with unpacked boxes, but the view from the small balcony overlooking the quiet street already felt like home. He stretched in bed, feeling the familiar pull in his hamstrings and the low, persistent thrum of anticipation that had settled in his chest ever since that first run with Frank. Two weeks into the job and the pattern was already forming: long days of intense client work, brief moments of camaraderie with Emily and Josh, and then the sharp, electric evenings spent beside his boss on the gravel paths of the Englischer Garten.

At the office, the day started with a team huddle in the main conference room. Frank stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up to expose those thick, veined forearms dusted with dark hair. His neat beard was freshly trimmed, brown hair styled with military precision, and the crisp white shirt stretched across his broad chest in a way that made Marc's focus waver for a second. Frank laid out the details of a new pitch they had just landed, a major strategy overhaul for one of the premium car brands. The project was huge, high visibility, and Frank would be leading it personally.

"Fischer," Frank said without looking up from his notes, voice clipped and professional. "You will support me directly on the stakeholder mapping and the initial cost analysis. I want your first draft by Friday close. No fluff."

Marc nodded, pulse quickening. "Understood. I'll have it ready."

Emily shot him an encouraging smile from across the table. Chris looked relieved not to be the one pulled into the spotlight. Josh, seated beside Marc, nudged his knee under the table and whispered, "Big leagues, blondie. Don't let the grumpy overlord eat you alive."

The rest of the morning disappeared into spreadsheets and research files. Marc buried himself in the work, but every time Frank passed his desk to drop off additional materials, the air between them felt charged. Frank's cologne, that same expensive woody scent, lingered after he walked away. Marc caught himself staring at the way Frank's suit pants hugged the powerful curve of his ass, the faint outline of muscle shifting with each step. He forced his eyes back to the screen, but the heat in his stomach refused to settle.

By late afternoon Marc had a solid outline completed. He sent it to Frank for review and received a reply almost immediately: "Solid start. Keep going." The words were brief, almost curt, but coming from Frank they felt like high praise. Marc allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

Josh appeared at his desk right before five, leaning against the partition with his usual easy grin. "Hey, new hotshot. Emily and I are grabbing a quick beer after work to celebrate surviving another week. You in? Or are you off to another torture session with the boss?"

Marc hesitated for only a second. "Running group tonight. But maybe next time?"

Josh's eyebrow lifted. "Still at it, huh? You really are a glutton for punishment. Or is it something else?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I see the way you look at him, Marc. Just remember, Frank is like one of those fancy German cars: looks great on the outside, but the engine might chew you up and spit you out."

Marc laughed softly, keeping his tone light. "It's just running, Josh. Clears the head. And he's actually a decent pace setter."

"Uh huh." Josh straightened and gave Marc's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "Well, if you need to vent after he grunts at you for the twentieth time, my couch has beer and terrible reality TV. Offer stands."

"Thanks, man. Appreciate it."

The office emptied out slowly. Marc changed in the small restroom near his desk, slipping into his running kit under his work clothes. By six twenty he was on the S-Bahn heading toward the park, heart already beating a little faster than usual.

Frank was waiting at the usual spot, arms crossed, looking every bit the untouchable alpha. Tight black compression top and shorts again, the fabric molded to his muscular frame like a second skin. The dark hair on his chest showed through the material in damp patches already forming from the warm evening. His thighs looked even more powerful today, calves carved and ready. And between them, that heavy bulge pressed forward prominently, the large uncut cock outlined clearly enough to make Marc's mouth go dry on sight.

"Ready?" Frank asked, no greeting, just that deep, authoritative tone.

Marc nodded and fell into step as they started jogging. The path felt familiar now, but something about tonight's run carried a different energy. Frank set a slightly harder pace from the beginning, pushing them faster than the previous sessions. Marc matched it without effort, lungs and legs responding smoothly. He kept his expression neutral, not letting on that he could have surged ahead and left Frank behind if he chose.

They ran in near silence for the first three kilometers. The only sounds were their rhythmic breathing and the crunch of gravel. Sweat began to bead on Frank's forehead, tracing a path down the side of his neck and into the collar of his top. Marc watched it disappear, imagining the salty taste on his tongue. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat straight to his groin. His own cock stirred against the compression shorts, thickening slowly but not enough to be obvious yet.

Halfway through, Frank spoke, voice rough with exertion. "That draft you sent. Good detail on the supply chain risks. Most new hires miss half of it."

Marc felt a flush of pride that had nothing to do with the run. "Thanks. I dug through the last two quarterly reports. Figured the patterns would help."

Frank grunted, the sound almost approving. "Keep that up and you might actually last longer than the last guy I had on this account."

It was the closest thing to a compliment Marc had heard. He took it, letting the words settle warmly in his chest. They continued running, shoulders brushing more often now on the narrower bends of the path. Each contact lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary. Marc could feel the heat rolling off Frank's body, the solid muscle of his upper arm pressing briefly against his own. The scent of sweat and cologne mixed together, masculine and heady.

They pushed the loop to nearly eight kilometers tonight, both men breathing harder by the end. When they finally slowed to a walk near the fountain, Frank's chest heaved visibly, the compression top soaked and clinging transparently to his nipples and the ridges of his abs. Marc's tank was damp too, his lean athletic frame glistening, blond body hair darkened with moisture at the collar.

Frank bent to drink, giving Marc another unobstructed view of that broad, muscular back and the way the shorts rode low on his hips. The waistband dipped just enough to reveal the top of the trimmed dark hair leading downward. Marc's cock filled more noticeably now, pressing against the tight fabric. He adjusted discreetly as Frank straightened.

"Not bad," Frank said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His hazel eyes met Marc's for a long moment. "You're holding your own better than I expected. Most people would have tapped out by now."

Marc shrugged, trying to keep his voice steady. "I like the challenge. Keeps things interesting."

Frank's gaze dropped for the briefest second, flicking down Marc's body before returning to his face. Something unreadable flickered there, but he said nothing more about it. Instead he jerked his head toward the path back to the office. "Shower?"

They walked the short distance together. The locker room was empty again, the overhead lights casting long shadows across the tiled floor. Frank stripped first, peeling the soaked top off to reveal the full expanse of his hairy, muscular chest. The dark hair was matted with sweat, trimmed neatly across his pecs and down the center of his abs. His arms flexed as he tossed the shirt aside, veins standing out prominently. When the shorts came down, that large uncut cock swung free, heavy and thick, the foreskin covering the head completely. It looked even fuller than usual after the harder run, hanging low between his powerful thighs.

Marc turned slightly away to undress, but he felt Frank's eyes on him. He pulled off his tank, exposing his smooth chest with its light dusting of trimmed blond hair, then stepped out of his shorts. His cock was already half hard, the uncut skin pulled back slightly from the head, his blond pubic hair kept a little longer than Frank's but still neat. He wrapped a towel around his waist quickly and followed Frank to the showers.

Hot water cascaded over them. Marc took the spot two heads away again, but the distance felt smaller tonight. Steam filled the air. Frank soaped his chest slowly, large hands moving through the wet hair, over the flat planes of his stomach, then lower. Marc watched from the corner of his eye as Frank's palm slid down that thick shaft, lathering it thoroughly, pulling the foreskin back to rinse underneath. The cock thickened noticeably under the attention, not fully hard but definitely responding. Marc's own erection surged to full mast. He faced the wall, heart pounding, water beating against his back while he willed his body to calm down.

"You ever run competitively?" Frank asked suddenly, voice echoing off the tiles.

Marc cleared his throat. "A few half marathons back in Cologne. Nothing serious. Just for the fun of it."

Frank made a low sound of acknowledgment. "Shows. Most guys your age couldn't keep this pace."

The compliment landed like a spark on dry tinder. Marc risked a glance over. Frank had turned slightly toward him, water streaming down his body, that large cock now hanging heavier, the head partially exposed and flushed. Their eyes met again. This time neither looked away immediately. The air thickened with something heavier than steam. Marc's cock throbbed painfully against his stomach, the towel long forgotten on the hook. Frank's gaze dipped downward once more, lingering for a full second before returning to Marc's face. His own expression remained guarded, but the muscle in his jaw tightened visibly.

They finished rinsing in charged silence. Back at the benches, they dried off side by side. Marc kept his movements efficient, but he could not stop the occasional glance at Frank's naked form: the way the towel dragged across that hairy chest, the heavy swing of his cock as he bent to dry his legs, the firm roundness of his ass when he turned. Marc's erection refused to subside completely. He dressed quickly, pulling on fresh clothes over still damp skin.

Before they left the locker room, Frank paused at the door, keys in hand.

"Friday evening run," he said. "Same time. And bring your A game. I might push it a little harder."

Marc met his eyes. "I'll be ready."

Frank nodded once, then walked out without another word. Marc stood there for a long moment, exhaling slowly, body still humming with unresolved tension. His cock ached inside his jeans as he made his way home.

That night in his apartment, Marc lay on the bed after a quick dinner, hand wrapped around his cock. He stroked slowly, eyes closed, replaying the shower scene in vivid detail. Frank's muscular body under the spray. The way that large uncut cock had thickened when soaped. The long, heated look they had shared. Marc imagined what it would feel like to drop to his knees right there on the wet tiles, to take that heavy shaft into his mouth, to feel Frank's strong hand on the back of his head. The fantasy pushed him over the edge fast. He came with a quiet groan, thick ropes landing across his trimmed blond pubic hair and flat stomach.

Afterward he cleaned up and stared at the ceiling, a small smile tugging at his lips. The shell was still mostly intact, Frank as grumpy and distant as ever at the office, but the cracks were widening. The runs were becoming something more than exercise. The showers were becoming something more than cleanup. Marc could feel the slow burn building toward a tipping point, and he was in no rush to get there. Every heated glance, every brush of skin, every grudging word of approval from Frank felt like progress.

The next day at work, Marc delivered the full draft of his analysis right on time. Frank reviewed it during a one on one in his glass walled office. Marc sat across the desk, watching Frank's strong hands turn the pages, the way his brow furrowed in concentration. When Frank looked up, there was a flicker of respect in those hazel eyes.

"This is thorough," he said. "We'll use most of it in the pitch. Good work, Fischer."

Marc felt the warmth spread through him again. "Thank you."

Frank leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. For a moment the professional mask slipped just enough for Marc to see the man underneath: tired but satisfied, the loner who pushed everyone away but maybe did not want to anymore. Then the mask returned.

"Friday run," Frank reminded him. "Don't be late."

"I won't."

Marc left the office feeling lighter, the anticipation for Friday already coiling tight in his belly. He grabbed a quick lunch with Josh and Emily, laughing at Josh's stories about California life, but his mind kept drifting back to the park, to the shower, to the way Frank had looked at him under the water.

Friday evening could not come soon enough.

When it finally arrived, Marc was at the meeting point early, stretching under the fading light. Frank appeared right on time, dressed in the usual tight black gear that showcased every powerful inch of his forty six year old body. They started running without much talk, but the pace was noticeably harder from the first step. Marc matched it, lungs burning pleasantly, legs strong. They pushed past eight kilometers, then nine, shoulders brushing repeatedly now, bodies slick with sweat.

By the time they finished, both men were breathing hard, faces flushed. In the locker room the tension felt electric. Clothes came off. Water turned on. This time Marc took the shower head right next to Frank's. They stood side by side under the spray, soaping up in silence that crackled with unspoken heat. Marc's cock hardened fully. Frank's did the same, the large uncut shaft swelling visibly, foreskin retracting as it filled. Their eyes met again and held. No words passed between them, but the air was thick with possibility.

They dressed afterward with the same charged quiet. Frank paused at the locker room door.

"Sunday morning," he said, voice lower than usual. "Longer loop. Seven sharp."

Marc nodded, throat tight. "I'll be there."

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

Unspoken Heat

Marc woke up on Wednesday morning with a pleasant ache in his legs from the previous evening's run. The apartment in Schwabing was still half filled with unpacked boxes, but the view from the small balcony overlooking the quiet street already felt like home. He stretched in bed, feeling the familiar pull in his hamstrings and the low, persistent thrum of anticipation that had settled in his chest ever since that first run with Frank. Two weeks into the job and the pattern was already forming: long days of intense client work, brief moments of camaraderie with Emily and Josh, and then the sharp, electric evenings spent beside his boss on the gravel paths of the Englischer Garten.

At the office, the day started with a team huddle in the main conference room. Frank stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up to expose those thick, veined forearms dusted with dark hair. His neat beard was freshly trimmed, brown hair styled with military precision, and the crisp white shirt stretched across his broad chest in a way that made Marc's focus waver for a second. Frank laid out the details of a new pitch they had just landed, a major strategy overhaul for one of the premium car brands. The project was huge, high visibility, and Frank would be leading it personally.

"Fischer," Frank said without looking up from his notes, voice clipped and professional. "You will support me directly on the stakeholder mapping and the initial cost analysis. I want your first draft by Friday close. No fluff."

Marc nodded, pulse quickening. "Understood. I'll have it ready."

Emily shot him an encouraging smile from across the table. Chris looked relieved not to be the one pulled into the spotlight. Josh, seated beside Marc, nudged his knee under the table and whispered, "Big leagues, blondie. Don't let the grumpy overlord eat you alive."

The rest of the morning disappeared into spreadsheets and research files. Marc buried himself in the work, but every time Frank passed his desk to drop off additional materials, the air between them felt charged. Frank's cologne, that same expensive woody scent, lingered after he walked away. Marc caught himself staring at the way Frank's suit pants hugged the powerful curve of his ass, the faint outline of muscle shifting with each step. He forced his eyes back to the screen, but the heat in his stomach refused to settle.

By late afternoon Marc had a solid outline completed. He sent it to Frank for review and received a reply almost immediately: "Solid start. Keep going." The words were brief, almost curt, but coming from Frank they felt like high praise. Marc allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

Josh appeared at his desk right before five, leaning against the partition with his usual easy grin. "Hey, new hotshot. Emily and I are grabbing a quick beer after work to celebrate surviving another week. You in? Or are you off to another torture session with the boss?"

Marc hesitated for only a second. "Running group tonight. But maybe next time?"

Josh's eyebrow lifted. "Still at it, huh? You really are a glutton for punishment. Or is it something else?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I see the way you look at him, Marc. Just remember, Frank is like one of those fancy German cars: looks great on the outside, but the engine might chew you up and spit you out."

Marc laughed softly, keeping his tone light. "It's just running, Josh. Clears the head. And he's actually a decent pace setter."

"Uh huh." Josh straightened and gave Marc's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "Well, if you need to vent after he grunts at you for the twentieth time, my couch has beer and terrible reality TV. Offer stands."

"Thanks, man. Appreciate it."

The office emptied out slowly. Marc changed in the small restroom near his desk, slipping into his running kit under his work clothes. By six twenty he was on the S-Bahn heading toward the park, heart already beating a little faster than usual.

Frank was waiting at the usual spot, arms crossed, looking every bit the untouchable alpha. Tight black compression top and shorts again, the fabric molded to his muscular frame like a second skin. The dark hair on his chest showed through the material in damp patches already forming from the warm evening. His thighs looked even more powerful today, calves carved and ready. And between them, that heavy bulge pressed forward prominently, the large uncut cock outlined clearly enough to make Marc's mouth go dry on sight.

"Ready?" Frank asked, no greeting, just that deep, authoritative tone.

Marc nodded and fell into step as they started jogging. The path felt familiar now, but something about tonight's run carried a different energy. Frank set a slightly harder pace from the beginning, pushing them faster than the previous sessions. Marc matched it without effort, lungs and legs responding smoothly. He kept his expression neutral, not letting on that he could have surged ahead and left Frank behind if he chose.

They ran in near silence for the first three kilometers. The only sounds were their rhythmic breathing and the crunch of gravel. Sweat began to bead on Frank's forehead, tracing a path down the side of his neck and into the collar of his top. Marc watched it disappear, imagining the salty taste on his tongue. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat straight to his groin. His own cock stirred against the compression shorts, thickening slowly but not enough to be obvious yet.

Halfway through, Frank spoke, voice rough with exertion. "That draft you sent. Good detail on the supply chain risks. Most new hires miss half of it."

Marc felt a flush of pride that had nothing to do with the run. "Thanks. I dug through the last two quarterly reports. Figured the patterns would help."

Frank grunted, the sound almost approving. "Keep that up and you might actually last longer than the last guy I had on this account."

It was the closest thing to a compliment Marc had heard. He took it, letting the words settle warmly in his chest. They continued running, shoulders brushing more often now on the narrower bends of the path. Each contact lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary. Marc could feel the heat rolling off Frank's body, the solid muscle of his upper arm pressing briefly against his own. The scent of sweat and cologne mixed together, masculine and heady.

They pushed the loop to nearly eight kilometers tonight, both men breathing harder by the end. When they finally slowed to a walk near the fountain, Frank's chest heaved visibly, the compression top soaked and clinging transparently to his nipples and the ridges of his abs. Marc's tank was damp too, his lean athletic frame glistening, blond body hair darkened with moisture at the collar.

Frank bent to drink, giving Marc another unobstructed view of that broad, muscular back and the way the shorts rode low on his hips. The waistband dipped just enough to reveal the top of the trimmed dark hair leading downward. Marc's cock filled more noticeably now, pressing against the tight fabric. He adjusted discreetly as Frank straightened.

"Not bad," Frank said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His hazel eyes met Marc's for a long moment. "You're holding your own better than I expected. Most people would have tapped out by now."

Marc shrugged, trying to keep his voice steady. "I like the challenge. Keeps things interesting."

Frank's gaze dropped for the briefest second, flicking down Marc's body before returning to his face. Something unreadable flickered there, but he said nothing more about it. Instead he jerked his head toward the path back to the office. "Shower?"

They walked the short distance together. The locker room was empty again, the overhead lights casting long shadows across the tiled floor. Frank stripped first, peeling the soaked top off to reveal the full expanse of his hairy, muscular chest. The dark hair was matted with sweat, trimmed neatly across his pecs and down the center of his abs. His arms flexed as he tossed the shirt aside, veins standing out prominently. When the shorts came down, that large uncut cock swung free, heavy and thick, the foreskin covering the head completely. It looked even fuller than usual after the harder run, hanging low between his powerful thighs.

Marc turned slightly away to undress, but he felt Frank's eyes on him. He pulled off his tank, exposing his smooth chest with its light dusting of trimmed blond hair, then stepped out of his shorts. His cock was already half hard, the uncut skin pulled back slightly from the head, his blond pubic hair kept a little longer than Frank's but still neat. He wrapped a towel around his waist quickly and followed Frank to the showers.

Hot water cascaded over them. Marc took the spot two heads away again, but the distance felt smaller tonight. Steam filled the air. Frank soaped his chest slowly, large hands moving through the wet hair, over the flat planes of his stomach, then lower. Marc watched from the corner of his eye as Frank's palm slid down that thick shaft, lathering it thoroughly, pulling the foreskin back to rinse underneath. The cock thickened noticeably under the attention, not fully hard but definitely responding. Marc's own erection surged to full mast. He faced the wall, heart pounding, water beating against his back while he willed his body to calm down.

"You ever run competitively?" Frank asked suddenly, voice echoing off the tiles.

Marc cleared his throat. "A few half marathons back in Cologne. Nothing serious. Just for the fun of it."

Frank made a low sound of acknowledgment. "Shows. Most guys your age couldn't keep this pace."

The compliment landed like a spark on dry tinder. Marc risked a glance over. Frank had turned slightly toward him, water streaming down his body, that large cock now hanging heavier, the head partially exposed and flushed. Their eyes met again. This time neither looked away immediately. The air thickened with something heavier than steam. Marc's cock throbbed painfully against his stomach, the towel long forgotten on the hook. Frank's gaze dipped downward once more, lingering for a full second before returning to Marc's face. His own expression remained guarded, but the muscle in his jaw tightened visibly.

They finished rinsing in charged silence. Back at the benches, they dried off side by side. Marc kept his movements efficient, but he could not stop the occasional glance at Frank's naked form: the way the towel dragged across that hairy chest, the heavy swing of his cock as he bent to dry his legs, the firm roundness of his ass when he turned. Marc's erection refused to subside completely. He dressed quickly, pulling on fresh clothes over still damp skin.

Before they left the locker room, Frank paused at the door, keys in hand.

"Friday evening run," he said. "Same time. And bring your A game. I might push it a little harder."

Marc met his eyes. "I'll be ready."

Frank nodded once, then walked out without another word. Marc stood there for a long moment, exhaling slowly, body still humming with unresolved tension. His cock ached inside his jeans as he made his way home.

That night in his apartment, Marc lay on the bed after a quick dinner, hand wrapped around his cock. He stroked slowly, eyes closed, replaying the shower scene in vivid detail. Frank's muscular body under the spray. The way that large uncut cock had thickened when soaped. The long, heated look they had shared. Marc imagined what it would feel like to drop to his knees right there on the wet tiles, to take that heavy shaft into his mouth, to feel Frank's strong hand on the back of his head. The fantasy pushed him over the edge fast. He came with a quiet groan, thick ropes landing across his trimmed blond pubic hair and flat stomach.

Afterward he cleaned up and stared at the ceiling, a small smile tugging at his lips. The shell was still mostly intact, Frank as grumpy and distant as ever at the office, but the cracks were widening. The runs were becoming something more than exercise. The showers were becoming something more than cleanup. Marc could feel the slow burn building toward a tipping point, and he was in no rush to get there. Every heated glance, every brush of skin, every grudging word of approval from Frank felt like progress.

The next day at work, Marc delivered the full draft of his analysis right on time. Frank reviewed it during a one on one in his glass walled office. Marc sat across the desk, watching Frank's strong hands turn the pages, the way his brow furrowed in concentration. When Frank looked up, there was a flicker of respect in those hazel eyes.

"This is thorough," he said. "We'll use most of it in the pitch. Good work, Fischer."

Marc felt the warmth spread through him again. "Thank you."

Frank leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. For a moment the professional mask slipped just enough for Marc to see the man underneath: tired but satisfied, the loner who pushed everyone away but maybe did not want to anymore. Then the mask returned.

"Friday run," Frank reminded him. "Don't be late."

"I won't."

Marc left the office feeling lighter, the anticipation for Friday already coiling tight in his belly. He grabbed a quick lunch with Josh and Emily, laughing at Josh's stories about California life, but his mind kept drifting back to the park, to the shower, to the way Frank had looked at him under the water.

Friday evening could not come soon enough.

When it finally arrived, Marc was at the meeting point early, stretching under the fading light. Frank appeared right on time, dressed in the usual tight black gear that showcased every powerful inch of his forty six year old body. They started running without much talk, but the pace was noticeably harder from the first step. Marc matched it, lungs burning pleasantly, legs strong. They pushed past eight kilometers, then nine, shoulders brushing repeatedly now, bodies slick with sweat.

By the time they finished, both men were breathing hard, faces flushed. In the locker room the tension felt electric. Clothes came off. Water turned on. This time Marc took the shower head right next to Frank's. They stood side by side under the spray, soaping up in silence that crackled with unspoken heat. Marc's cock hardened fully. Frank's did the same, the large uncut shaft swelling visibly, foreskin retracting as it filled. Their eyes met again and held. No words passed between them, but the air was thick with possibility.

They dressed afterward with the same charged quiet. Frank paused at the locker room door.

"Sunday morning," he said, voice lower than usual. "Longer loop. Seven sharp."

Marc nodded, throat tight. "I'll be there."

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

2. Breaking a Sweat

Marc arrived at the Englischer Garten on Thursday evening with his running gear already on under a light hoodie. The late September air carried the first real bite of spring, crisp and clean, but his blood felt warm the moment he spotted Frank waiting near the Chinese Tower. The older man stood with his arms crossed, dressed in another set of tight black running clothes that left little to the imagination. The compression fabric stretched across his broad chest, outlining the firm swell of his pectorals and the faint shadow of trimmed chest hair beneath. His muscular thighs filled the shorts completely, and once again that heavy, prominent bulge sat front and center, thick and unapologetic. Frank looked every inch the disciplined alpha, neat beard perfectly trimmed, short brown hair styled even for a run, hazel eyes scanning the path with impatient authority.

“You’re on time,” Frank said by way of greeting. No hello, no small talk. Just that deep, clipped voice that somehow managed to sound both approving and challenging at once.

Marc pulled off his hoodie and stuffed it into his small backpack. “Told you I would be.”

Frank’s gaze flicked over him once, quick and assessing. Marc felt it like a physical touch, sliding across his lean athletic frame, the fitted gray tank, the black compression shorts that hugged his own trimmed blond body hair and the average but neat bulge between his legs. Frank didn’t comment. He simply turned and started jogging, setting the same solid pace as before.

They fell into rhythm side by side. The gravel crunched under their shoes. Leaves rustled overhead. For the first kilometer they ran in silence again, the only sounds their steady breathing and the occasional distant laugh from other park visitors. Marc kept his stride easy, matching Frank exactly. He could have pushed harder. His legs felt fresh, his lungs strong from years of consistent training. But he held back, letting Frank lead, letting the older man think he was setting the standard.

After fifteen minutes Frank spoke, voice slightly rough from the effort.

“Most people quit after the first session. They say I push too hard.”

Marc glanced sideways. Sweat was already starting to darken the neckline of Frank’s top. A single drop traced down the side of his neck and disappeared into the collar. Marc forced his eyes forward.

“I’m not most people,” he answered simply.

Frank gave a short, humorless huff that might have been a laugh. “We’ll see.”

They continued along the familiar loop. The path narrowed in places, forcing their shoulders to brush occasionally. Each contact sent a small jolt through Marc. Frank’s body radiated heat, solid and powerful. Marc could smell the clean scent of his cologne mixed with fresh sweat, masculine and intoxicating. He felt the slow burn building low in his stomach, a warm tension that had nothing to do with the run and everything to do with the man beside him.

Halfway through the run Frank picked up the pace a fraction. Marc matched it without comment. His heart rate climbed, but he stayed controlled, breathing steady. Frank’s breathing grew a little heavier, the powerful muscles in his back and shoulders working visibly under the tight fabric. Marc watched the play of those muscles from the corner of his eye, the way Frank’s ass flexed with each stride, round and firm. The heavy swing of Frank’s large cock in those tight shorts was impossible to ignore completely. Marc felt his own cock twitch in response, thickening slightly against the compression material. He was grateful the shorts were dark enough to hide any obvious reaction.

They finished the five kilometers in good time. Both men were breathing harder now, chests rising and falling, skin glistening with sweat. They slowed to a walk near the fountain. Frank bent forward, hands on his knees for a moment, giving Marc a perfect view of the broad, muscular back and the way the shorts clung to his powerful glutes. When Frank straightened, his face was flushed, beard damp, eyes bright with the endorphin rush.

“Not bad, Fischer,” he said. The words sounded almost grudging. “You kept up.”

Marc wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. “Felt good. Same pace again next time?”

Frank’s mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile Marc had seen. “We’ll see if you still say that after the third run.”

They stood there for a minute, catching their breath. The tension between them felt thicker than the humid evening air. Marc’s gaze drifted involuntarily to Frank’s chest, where the compression top clung transparently to his nipples, then lower to the prominent bulge that looked even heavier now, slightly more defined after the exertion. Frank caught him looking. For a split second their eyes locked. Marc felt heat flood his face, but he didn’t look away. Frank’s expression remained unreadable, though something flickered in those hazel eyes, something dark and assessing.

“Shower at the office locker room?” Frank asked, voice lower than usual.

Marc nodded. “Yeah. I’ll head back with you.”

They walked the short distance to the company building in relative silence. The locker room on the basement level was empty at this hour. Marc followed Frank inside, heart beating a little faster. The space smelled of clean tile and faint disinfectant. Rows of lockers, wooden benches, open showers along the far wall. Frank stripped without hesitation, peeling the damp compression top over his head to reveal a muscular, hairy torso trimmed to perfect neatness. Dark hair covered his broad chest in a neat pattern, narrowing to a trimmed treasure trail that disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. His arms and shoulders were thick with muscle, veins standing out from the run. When he pushed the shorts down, Marc had to fight not to stare openly.

Frank’s cock was everything the tight running gear had promised and more. Large, thick even soft, uncut with a generous foreskin covering the head. It hung heavy between powerful, hairy thighs, the dark pubic hair trimmed short and neat. His balls were full and low. Frank stood there completely unselfconscious, alpha confidence radiating from every inch of his fit forty-six-year-old body. He grabbed a towel and headed toward the showers, giving Marc a brief view of his muscular ass, also dusted with trimmed hair.

Marc turned away, pulse racing, and quickly stripped his own clothes. His lean athletic body felt almost boyish next to Frank’s mature power. Blond body hair trimmed to the perfect length, smooth chest with just a light dusting, flat stomach, average-sized uncut cock that was already half-hard from the visual overload. He wrapped a towel around his waist and followed Frank into the shower area.

The showers were open, no stalls, just a row of heads along the tiled wall. Frank had claimed the far one and was already under the hot spray, head tilted back, water cascading over his shoulders and down the planes of his back. Marc took the shower two heads away, giving them both space, but the distance felt meaningless. He turned on the water and let it sluice over his heated skin, trying to calm his breathing.

They showered in silence for a few minutes. Marc kept his back mostly to Frank, but he couldn’t stop the occasional glance. Frank soaped his chest with slow, deliberate strokes, fingers moving through the wet chest hair, down over his abs. When he washed lower, Marc caught the movement from the corner of his eye: Frank’s large hand sliding over that thick cock, soaping the length, pulling the foreskin back briefly under the water. Marc’s own cock swelled fully now, pressing against the towel he had hung on the hook. He faced the wall, willing himself to calm down, but the image burned behind his eyelids.

“First week treating you okay?” Frank asked suddenly, voice echoing off the tiles.

Marc cleared his throat. “Yeah. Emily’s been great. Josh too. The BMW files are intense, but I’m getting through them.”

Frank grunted. “Good. I expect you to pull your weight on the new pitch next month. No hand-holding.”

“Understood.”

Another silence. Marc risked a quick sideways glance. Frank had turned slightly, rinsing the soap from his front. Water ran in rivulets down his hairy chest, over the defined ridges of his stomach, and straight down to the heavy cock that now looked slightly thicker, the foreskin pulled back just enough to show the flushed head. Marc’s mouth went dry. His own erection throbbed painfully. He turned the water cooler, hoping it would help.

When they finally shut off the showers and walked back to the benches to dress, the air between them crackled. Marc kept his towel wrapped tight as he dried off, but he was achingly aware of Frank only a few feet away, naked and completely at ease. Frank pulled on fresh clothes, a casual polo and jeans that still managed to look expensive. Marc dressed quickly, trying not to let his gaze linger on the way Frank’s jeans hugged his thick thighs and the prominent bulge that was once again on display.

Before they left the locker room, Frank paused at the door.

“Saturday morning run,” he said. “Seven sharp. Same place. You up for it?”

Marc met his eyes. The tension was unmistakable now, at least on his side. He wondered if Frank felt even a fraction of it.

“I’ll be there,” Marc answered.

Frank nodded once, then walked out.

Marc stood alone for a moment, exhaling slowly. His cock was still half-hard, his skin tingling. The slow burn had just turned up another notch, and they had barely spoken ten sentences to each other.

Back at his apartment in Schwabing, Marc unpacked another box while his mind replayed the evening on loop. The brush of shoulders on the path. The sight of Frank’s powerful body under the shower spray. The heavy, uncut cock swinging as he moved. Marc’s hand drifted down unconsciously, palming himself through his sweatpants. He thought about Frank’s deep voice, the arrogant tilt of his head, the way he pushed without apology. Marc liked it. More than he probably should.

He stripped and lay on his bed, hand wrapping around his cock. He stroked slowly, eyes closed, imagining Frank’s larger one, imagining those strong hands on his hips, that neat beard brushing against his neck. The fantasy built quickly. Marc came with a quiet groan, spilling over his trimmed blond pubic hair, chest heaving.

Afterward he lay there, staring at the ceiling, a small smile on his face.

This was only the beginning. Frank’s shell was thick, grumpy and snobbish on the surface, but Marc could already sense something deeper underneath. Something worth the slow, patient burn. He would keep matching Frank’s pace, keep showing up, keep letting the tension simmer.

And eventually, he would crack that shell wide open.

The next day at the office passed in a blur of meetings and client research. Emily helped Marc navigate the complex BMW stakeholder map. Chris kept mostly to himself but offered a surprisingly insightful comment during a team huddle that earned a rare nod of approval from Frank. Josh pulled Marc aside at lunch, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So, how was the death run yesterday?” he asked, biting into a sandwich. “Did Frank make you cry yet?”

Marc laughed. “Not even close. It was good. I like running with him.”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “You like running with the grumpy alpha who eats interns for breakfast? Bold choice, blondie.”

Marc shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “He’s a strong runner. Pushes me. That’s all.”

Josh studied him for a second, then grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure. Just be careful. Frank doesn’t do friends. And he definitely doesn’t do… whatever you’re thinking with that look on your face.”

Marc felt heat creep up his neck but played it off with a laugh. “No idea what you mean.”

Josh just shook his head, still smiling. “My advice? Keep your heart and your dick in separate boxes for now. Frank’s complicated.”

Marc took the warning seriously, but it didn’t stop the anticipation building in his chest for Saturday morning.

When Saturday arrived, he was at the park by six fifty, stretching under the trees. Frank appeared right on time, looking somehow even more imposing in the early light. Same tight running kit, same powerful body on full display. They exchanged the briefest of nods and started running.

This time the pace felt a touch faster from the start. Marc matched it effortlessly, keeping his breathing even. They ran longer today, nearly seven kilometers. Sweat poured down both their bodies. Shoulders brushed more often on the narrower sections of path. Each time the contact lingered a fraction longer. Marc’s skin felt electrified. When they finally stopped, both men were breathing hard, faces flushed.

Frank wiped his face with the hem of his tank, exposing a strip of hairy, muscular stomach. Marc’s gaze dropped before he could stop it. Frank noticed. Again.

“Shower?” Frank asked, voice rough.

Marc nodded.

Back in the empty locker room the routine repeated. Clothes came off. Bodies stood under hot water. This time Marc allowed himself a longer look when Frank wasn’t watching. The way water clung to the dark hair on Frank’s chest. The thick, heavy cock hanging between those powerful legs, swaying as Frank shifted his weight. Marc’s own cock filled rapidly. He faced the wall, but the ache was becoming harder to ignore.

They dressed in charged silence. Before leaving, Frank paused again.

“Tuesday. Same time.”

It wasn’t a question.

Marc met his eyes. “I’ll be there.”

Frank’s gaze held his for a beat longer than necessary. Then he turned and walked away, leaving Marc with another night of heated fantasies and the growing certainty that the tension was no longer one-sided.

The work week continued. Marc impressed everyone, including Frank, with a sharp analysis on the new project. Frank acknowledged it with a short “Solid work, Fischer” in the team meeting, the closest thing to praise Marc had heard from him. The words sent a warm flush through Marc’s chest that had nothing to do with professional pride.

Tuesday evening arrived. Another run. Another shower. The brushes of shoulders on the path grew more frequent. In the locker room the air felt thicker, hotter. Marc’s erection was impossible to hide completely this time. When he turned slightly while rinsing, he caught Frank’s eyes flicking downward for the briefest moment. Frank’s own cock looked heavier, the foreskin slightly retracted, though he said nothing.

They parted with the usual curt nod, but the heat between them had climbed another degree.

By the end of the second week, Marc could feel the slow burn turning into something sharper, more insistent. Frank remained grumpy and snobbish at the office, barking orders and keeping everyone at arm’s length. But during the runs and in the quiet moments of the locker room, something was shifting. Small comments. Longer glances. A grudging respect that felt like the first crack in that thick, armored shell.

Marc was patient. He would keep showing up. Keep matching Frank’s pace without revealing his full strength. Keep letting the tension simmer and build.

Because he knew, deep down, that when that shell finally cracked, the heat would be worth every slow, aching minute.

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

<--- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

2. Breaking a Sweat

Marc arrived at the Englischer Garten on Thursday evening with his running gear already on under a light hoodie. The late September air carried the first real bite of spring, crisp and clean, but his blood felt warm the moment he spotted Frank waiting near the Chinese Tower. The older man stood with his arms crossed, dressed in another set of tight black running clothes that left little to the imagination. The compression fabric stretched across his broad chest, outlining the firm swell of his pectorals and the faint shadow of trimmed chest hair beneath. His muscular thighs filled the shorts completely, and once again that heavy, prominent bulge sat front and center, thick and unapologetic. Frank looked every inch the disciplined alpha, neat beard perfectly trimmed, short brown hair styled even for a run, hazel eyes scanning the path with impatient authority.

“You’re on time,” Frank said by way of greeting. No hello, no small talk. Just that deep, clipped voice that somehow managed to sound both approving and challenging at once.

Marc pulled off his hoodie and stuffed it into his small backpack. “Told you I would be.”

Frank’s gaze flicked over him once, quick and assessing. Marc felt it like a physical touch, sliding across his lean athletic frame, the fitted gray tank, the black compression shorts that hugged his own trimmed blond body hair and the average but neat bulge between his legs. Frank didn’t comment. He simply turned and started jogging, setting the same solid pace as before.

They fell into rhythm side by side. The gravel crunched under their shoes. Leaves rustled overhead. For the first kilometer they ran in silence again, the only sounds their steady breathing and the occasional distant laugh from other park visitors. Marc kept his stride easy, matching Frank exactly. He could have pushed harder. His legs felt fresh, his lungs strong from years of consistent training. But he held back, letting Frank lead, letting the older man think he was setting the standard.

After fifteen minutes Frank spoke, voice slightly rough from the effort.

“Most people quit after the first session. They say I push too hard.”

Marc glanced sideways. Sweat was already starting to darken the neckline of Frank’s top. A single drop traced down the side of his neck and disappeared into the collar. Marc forced his eyes forward.

“I’m not most people,” he answered simply.

Frank gave a short, humorless huff that might have been a laugh. “We’ll see.”

They continued along the familiar loop. The path narrowed in places, forcing their shoulders to brush occasionally. Each contact sent a small jolt through Marc. Frank’s body radiated heat, solid and powerful. Marc could smell the clean scent of his cologne mixed with fresh sweat, masculine and intoxicating. He felt the slow burn building low in his stomach, a warm tension that had nothing to do with the run and everything to do with the man beside him.

Halfway through the run Frank picked up the pace a fraction. Marc matched it without comment. His heart rate climbed, but he stayed controlled, breathing steady. Frank’s breathing grew a little heavier, the powerful muscles in his back and shoulders working visibly under the tight fabric. Marc watched the play of those muscles from the corner of his eye, the way Frank’s ass flexed with each stride, round and firm. The heavy swing of Frank’s large cock in those tight shorts was impossible to ignore completely. Marc felt his own cock twitch in response, thickening slightly against the compression material. He was grateful the shorts were dark enough to hide any obvious reaction.

They finished the five kilometers in good time. Both men were breathing harder now, chests rising and falling, skin glistening with sweat. They slowed to a walk near the fountain. Frank bent forward, hands on his knees for a moment, giving Marc a perfect view of the broad, muscular back and the way the shorts clung to his powerful glutes. When Frank straightened, his face was flushed, beard damp, eyes bright with the endorphin rush.

“Not bad, Fischer,” he said. The words sounded almost grudging. “You kept up.”

Marc wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. “Felt good. Same pace again next time?”

Frank’s mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile Marc had seen. “We’ll see if you still say that after the third run.”

They stood there for a minute, catching their breath. The tension between them felt thicker than the humid evening air. Marc’s gaze drifted involuntarily to Frank’s chest, where the compression top clung transparently to his nipples, then lower to the prominent bulge that looked even heavier now, slightly more defined after the exertion. Frank caught him looking. For a split second their eyes locked. Marc felt heat flood his face, but he didn’t look away. Frank’s expression remained unreadable, though something flickered in those hazel eyes, something dark and assessing.

“Shower at the office locker room?” Frank asked, voice lower than usual.

Marc nodded. “Yeah. I’ll head back with you.”

They walked the short distance to the company building in relative silence. The locker room on the basement level was empty at this hour. Marc followed Frank inside, heart beating a little faster. The space smelled of clean tile and faint disinfectant. Rows of lockers, wooden benches, open showers along the far wall. Frank stripped without hesitation, peeling the damp compression top over his head to reveal a muscular, hairy torso trimmed to perfect neatness. Dark hair covered his broad chest in a neat pattern, narrowing to a trimmed treasure trail that disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. His arms and shoulders were thick with muscle, veins standing out from the run. When he pushed the shorts down, Marc had to fight not to stare openly.

Frank’s cock was everything the tight running gear had promised and more. Large, thick even soft, uncut with a generous foreskin covering the head. It hung heavy between powerful, hairy thighs, the dark pubic hair trimmed short and neat. His balls were full and low. Frank stood there completely unselfconscious, alpha confidence radiating from every inch of his fit forty-six-year-old body. He grabbed a towel and headed toward the showers, giving Marc a brief view of his muscular ass, also dusted with trimmed hair.

Marc turned away, pulse racing, and quickly stripped his own clothes. His lean athletic body felt almost boyish next to Frank’s mature power. Blond body hair trimmed to the perfect length, smooth chest with just a light dusting, flat stomach, average-sized uncut cock that was already half-hard from the visual overload. He wrapped a towel around his waist and followed Frank into the shower area.

The showers were open, no stalls, just a row of heads along the tiled wall. Frank had claimed the far one and was already under the hot spray, head tilted back, water cascading over his shoulders and down the planes of his back. Marc took the shower two heads away, giving them both space, but the distance felt meaningless. He turned on the water and let it sluice over his heated skin, trying to calm his breathing.

They showered in silence for a few minutes. Marc kept his back mostly to Frank, but he couldn’t stop the occasional glance. Frank soaped his chest with slow, deliberate strokes, fingers moving through the wet chest hair, down over his abs. When he washed lower, Marc caught the movement from the corner of his eye: Frank’s large hand sliding over that thick cock, soaping the length, pulling the foreskin back briefly under the water. Marc’s own cock swelled fully now, pressing against the towel he had hung on the hook. He faced the wall, willing himself to calm down, but the image burned behind his eyelids.

“First week treating you okay?” Frank asked suddenly, voice echoing off the tiles.

Marc cleared his throat. “Yeah. Emily’s been great. Josh too. The BMW files are intense, but I’m getting through them.”

Frank grunted. “Good. I expect you to pull your weight on the new pitch next month. No hand-holding.”

“Understood.”

Another silence. Marc risked a quick sideways glance. Frank had turned slightly, rinsing the soap from his front. Water ran in rivulets down his hairy chest, over the defined ridges of his stomach, and straight down to the heavy cock that now looked slightly thicker, the foreskin pulled back just enough to show the flushed head. Marc’s mouth went dry. His own erection throbbed painfully. He turned the water cooler, hoping it would help.

When they finally shut off the showers and walked back to the benches to dress, the air between them crackled. Marc kept his towel wrapped tight as he dried off, but he was achingly aware of Frank only a few feet away, naked and completely at ease. Frank pulled on fresh clothes, a casual polo and jeans that still managed to look expensive. Marc dressed quickly, trying not to let his gaze linger on the way Frank’s jeans hugged his thick thighs and the prominent bulge that was once again on display.

Before they left the locker room, Frank paused at the door.

“Saturday morning run,” he said. “Seven sharp. Same place. You up for it?”

Marc met his eyes. The tension was unmistakable now, at least on his side. He wondered if Frank felt even a fraction of it.

“I’ll be there,” Marc answered.

Frank nodded once, then walked out.

Marc stood alone for a moment, exhaling slowly. His cock was still half-hard, his skin tingling. The slow burn had just turned up another notch, and they had barely spoken ten sentences to each other.

Back at his apartment in Schwabing, Marc unpacked another box while his mind replayed the evening on loop. The brush of shoulders on the path. The sight of Frank’s powerful body under the shower spray. The heavy, uncut cock swinging as he moved. Marc’s hand drifted down unconsciously, palming himself through his sweatpants. He thought about Frank’s deep voice, the arrogant tilt of his head, the way he pushed without apology. Marc liked it. More than he probably should.

He stripped and lay on his bed, hand wrapping around his cock. He stroked slowly, eyes closed, imagining Frank’s larger one, imagining those strong hands on his hips, that neat beard brushing against his neck. The fantasy built quickly. Marc came with a quiet groan, spilling over his trimmed blond pubic hair, chest heaving.

Afterward he lay there, staring at the ceiling, a small smile on his face.

This was only the beginning. Frank’s shell was thick, grumpy and snobbish on the surface, but Marc could already sense something deeper underneath. Something worth the slow, patient burn. He would keep matching Frank’s pace, keep showing up, keep letting the tension simmer.

And eventually, he would crack that shell wide open.

The next day at the office passed in a blur of meetings and client research. Emily helped Marc navigate the complex BMW stakeholder map. Chris kept mostly to himself but offered a surprisingly insightful comment during a team huddle that earned a rare nod of approval from Frank. Josh pulled Marc aside at lunch, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So, how was the death run yesterday?” he asked, biting into a sandwich. “Did Frank make you cry yet?”

Marc laughed. “Not even close. It was good. I like running with him.”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “You like running with the grumpy alpha who eats interns for breakfast? Bold choice, blondie.”

Marc shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “He’s a strong runner. Pushes me. That’s all.”

Josh studied him for a second, then grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure. Just be careful. Frank doesn’t do friends. And he definitely doesn’t do… whatever you’re thinking with that look on your face.”

Marc felt heat creep up his neck but played it off with a laugh. “No idea what you mean.”

Josh just shook his head, still smiling. “My advice? Keep your heart and your dick in separate boxes for now. Frank’s complicated.”

Marc took the warning seriously, but it didn’t stop the anticipation building in his chest for Saturday morning.

When Saturday arrived, he was at the park by six fifty, stretching under the trees. Frank appeared right on time, looking somehow even more imposing in the early light. Same tight running kit, same powerful body on full display. They exchanged the briefest of nods and started running.

This time the pace felt a touch faster from the start. Marc matched it effortlessly, keeping his breathing even. They ran longer today, nearly seven kilometers. Sweat poured down both their bodies. Shoulders brushed more often on the narrower sections of path. Each time the contact lingered a fraction longer. Marc’s skin felt electrified. When they finally stopped, both men were breathing hard, faces flushed.

Frank wiped his face with the hem of his tank, exposing a strip of hairy, muscular stomach. Marc’s gaze dropped before he could stop it. Frank noticed. Again.

“Shower?” Frank asked, voice rough.

Marc nodded.

Back in the empty locker room the routine repeated. Clothes came off. Bodies stood under hot water. This time Marc allowed himself a longer look when Frank wasn’t watching. The way water clung to the dark hair on Frank’s chest. The thick, heavy cock hanging between those powerful legs, swaying as Frank shifted his weight. Marc’s own cock filled rapidly. He faced the wall, but the ache was becoming harder to ignore.

They dressed in charged silence. Before leaving, Frank paused again.

“Tuesday. Same time.”

It wasn’t a question.

Marc met his eyes. “I’ll be there.”

Frank’s gaze held his for a beat longer than necessary. Then he turned and walked away, leaving Marc with another night of heated fantasies and the growing certainty that the tension was no longer one-sided.

The work week continued. Marc impressed everyone, including Frank, with a sharp analysis on the new project. Frank acknowledged it with a short “Solid work, Fischer” in the team meeting, the closest thing to praise Marc had heard from him. The words sent a warm flush through Marc’s chest that had nothing to do with professional pride.

Tuesday evening arrived. Another run. Another shower. The brushes of shoulders on the path grew more frequent. In the locker room the air felt thicker, hotter. Marc’s erection was impossible to hide completely this time. When he turned slightly while rinsing, he caught Frank’s eyes flicking downward for the briefest moment. Frank’s own cock looked heavier, the foreskin slightly retracted, though he said nothing.

They parted with the usual curt nod, but the heat between them had climbed another degree.

By the end of the second week, Marc could feel the slow burn turning into something sharper, more insistent. Frank remained grumpy and snobbish at the office, barking orders and keeping everyone at arm’s length. But during the runs and in the quiet moments of the locker room, something was shifting. Small comments. Longer glances. A grudging respect that felt like the first crack in that thick, armored shell.

Marc was patient. He would keep showing up. Keep matching Frank’s pace without revealing his full strength. Keep letting the tension simmer and build.

Because he knew, deep down, that when that shell finally cracked, the heat would be worth every slow, aching minute.

... To be continued

Pace Control

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

Next Chapter ---> (Soon)

---

1. Madman

Marc Fischer stepped into the gleaming lobby of the F+ Munich office building and felt a rush of adrenaline hit him square in the chest. At twenty-five, fresh out of his master's program in business administration back in Cologne, he had just moved across the country for this exact moment. The firm specialized in high-stakes consulting for the biggest German car manufacturers, and Marc had crushed the assessment center. He was one of only three new hires selected from over two hundred applicants. His lean, athletic frame moved with easy confidence as he adjusted the knot of his tie. Blond hair neatly combed, clean-shaven face glowing from the brisk walk from the S-Bahn, he looked every bit the sharp young professional he intended to be. Underneath the crisp white shirt and tailored navy suit, though, his body was already humming with the kind of restless energy he usually burned off on a long run or a beach volleyball court. Today, that energy had nowhere to go except straight into his new life.

The elevator doors slid open on the fifth floor and deposited him into a bright, open-plan workspace filled with glass partitions and sleek desks. A young woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile approached him immediately.

"Hi, you must be Marc Fischer," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Emily Berger. Welcome to the team. I'll be your onboarding buddy today."

Emily was twenty-eight, dressed in a crisp blouse and pencil skirt, and she radiated the kind of disciplined efficiency that made Marc relax instantly. She walked him through the basics: security badge, email setup, the shared drive full of client files on the latest Volkswagen and BMW projects. Within minutes she had him seated at his new desk, a coffee in hand, and was pointing out the key players scattered around the open office.

"That's Chris over there," she said, nodding toward a thirty-two-year-old man hunched over dual monitors, glasses perched on his nose. Chris gave a quick wave and a shy grin before diving back into whatever spreadsheet held his attention. "Smart as hell, but do not ask him to join anything that involves actual physical movement. He once tried a company hike and lasted about fifteen minutes."

Marc chuckled. "Noted."

Emily's voice dropped a little as she gestured toward a desk near the window. "And that is Josh. California transplant, thirty-five, and the only person here who can make even the most brutal deadline feel like a comedy sketch."

Josh looked up from his keyboard, flashed a bright smile, and stood to shake Marc's hand. He had an easy, athletic build under his button-down, dark hair tousled just enough to look intentional, and an openly friendly vibe that screamed "instant ally."

"Welcome to the madhouse, Marc," Josh said, voice carrying a faint West Coast lilt. "If you need the real scoop on anything, or just someone to vent to after your first week of soul-crushing PowerPoint marathons, my door is always open. Or my Slack channel. Whichever is less depressing."

Marc liked him immediately. There was something comforting about Josh's humor, and the quick, knowing glance they shared told Marc that Josh had already clocked him as family. Good. Being openly gay had never been an issue for Marc, but it was nice to know he had at least one person in the office who would get it without explanation.

The morning passed in a blur of introductions and orientation slides. By eleven, the entire division was called into the main conference room for a team alignment meeting. Marc took a seat near the back, notebook open, trying to look both eager and professional. The room buzzed with quiet conversation until the door opened and Frank Klink walked in.

The air seemed to shift.

Frank was forty-six, and he carried his age like a weapon. Short, perfectly styled brown hair framed a strong, angular face dominated by a neat, trimmed beard that accentuated a square jaw. His dark suit was tailored to perfection, hugging broad shoulders and a chest that clearly spent serious time in the gym. Even from across the room Marc could see the way the fabric stretched over powerful arms and a flat stomach. Frank moved with the kind of disciplined authority that made everyone sit up straighter. He set a leather portfolio on the table, scanned the room once, and began speaking without preamble.

"New faces today," Frank said, voice deep and clipped. His eyes landed on Marc for a fraction of a second longer than the others. "Marc Fischer. Masters from Cologne. Top performer in the assessment center. You'll be supporting the BMW account directly under my lead."

Marc nodded, pulse quickening. Up close, Frank was even more striking. The faint scent of expensive cologne drifted across the table. Marc's gaze flicked involuntarily to the way Frank's shirt collar framed the base of his throat, to the subtle flex of muscle beneath the fabric when he gestured. Marc had always had a weakness for the dad type, the confident, older, in-control kind of man who looked like he could bench-press a small car and still make it look effortless. Frank checked every single box. And yet there was an edge to him, something cool and distant in those sharp hazel eyes that warned Marc not to get too comfortable.

Frank continued, laying out the current portfolio. They were in the middle of a massive project for one of the premium manufacturers, pressure high, deadlines tighter than ever. He expected excellence, he said. No excuses. When Chris asked a clarifying question about data timelines, Frank's response was short, almost dismissive.

"Figure it out, Chris. That's why we pay you the big numbers."

A few people shifted uncomfortably. Emily shot Marc a small, sympathetic glance. Josh rolled his eyes so subtly only Marc caught it.

The meeting wrapped with Frank assigning action items. As people filed out, he lingered by the door.

"One more thing," he announced, voice carrying across the room. "I run a small group after work three times a week. Keeps the mind sharp, the body sharper. Anyone interested is welcome. We meet at the Englischer Garten entrance near the Chinese Tower. Six thirty sharp. No stragglers."

Most of the team exchanged quick looks. Chris muttered something about "death marches" under his breath. Emily smiled politely but shook her head. Josh leaned toward Marc as they left the conference room.

"Don't do it, man," he said quietly, voice laced with amusement and warning. "Frank's a machine on the pavement. He runs like he's trying to outrun his own personality. First session, he basically bullied two guys off the team last quarter. Calls it motivation. I call it being a massive dick. Trust me, stick to the gym on your own time."

Marc nodded, but something in his chest had already decided otherwise. He had always loved running. It was his escape, his reset. And the idea of sharing that with Frank, of seeing that powerful body in motion, sweat darkening his shirt, muscles working under those expensive clothes, sent a low, warm spark through Marc's stomach. He knew it was probably stupid. He knew the warnings. But the thought of holding his own next to a man like Frank, of pushing himself while trying not to stare at the way Frank's broad back moved, felt too tempting to pass up.

By the end of the day, Marc had his badge, his laptop configured, and a stack of reading material on the latest automotive supply chain challenges. Emily had already walked him through three client files and offered to grab lunch together the next day. Josh had sent him a Slack message with three GIFs and the words "survival tips for new meat." Chris had nodded at him once in passing, eyes already back on his screens.

Marc was packing up when Frank appeared at the edge of his desk.

"Fischer."

Marc looked up. Frank stood there, arms crossed, suit jacket now off and draped over one forearm. The short sleeves of his dress shirt revealed forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair. Marc's throat tightened for a second.

"Yes, Mr. Klink?"

"Frank," he corrected, though the word came out more like an order than an invitation. "Running group. You in or not?"

Marc didn't hesitate. "I'm in."

Frank's eyebrow lifted a fraction, the closest thing to surprise Marc had seen all day. "Good. Don't be late. I don't slow down for anyone."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Marc staring after the broad line of his back and the confident stride that screamed control.

Josh appeared at Marc's side a moment later, shaking his head.

"You absolute madman. I warned you."

Marc grinned, trying to ignore the way his pulse had kicked up again. "I like a challenge."

Josh laughed. "Famous last words, my friend. Just don't say I didn't tell you."

Marc locked his desk, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed for the elevators. Outside, the Munich evening was cooling off, the city lights beginning to flicker on. He thought about the week ahead, the projects waiting on his laptop, the new apartment still half-unpacked in Schwabing. But mostly he thought about six thirty tomorrow at the Englischer Garten. About lacing up his running shoes and stepping onto the path beside Frank Klink. About the slow, deliberate way he would hold himself back at first, matching pace without revealing how easily he could pull ahead. About the heat that would build between them under the trees, the sound of their breathing, the occasional brush of shoulders when the trail narrowed.

He smiled to himself as he stepped onto the street. This job was going to be interesting. Very interesting.

The next afternoon Marc arrived at the meeting point ten minutes early. The park was beautiful, paths winding under ancient trees, the distant sound of the Eisbach surfers echoing faintly. He wore his favorite running kit: black compression shorts that hugged his lean, athletic legs, a fitted gray tank that showed off the definition in his shoulders and chest, and the lightweight trainers that had carried him through half-marathons back in Cologne. His blond body hair was trimmed neat and short, just visible at the collar of the tank. He stretched lightly against a tree, feeling the familiar pull in his hamstrings, already imagining the burn that would come later.

At six thirty exactly, Frank appeared.

He wore tight black running shorts and a matching compression top that left almost nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung to every ridge of muscle across his chest and abs, the dark hair on his torso visible through the material in a way that made Marc's mouth go dry. Frank's legs were thick with power, calves carved from years of disciplined training. And between those powerful thighs, the unmistakable outline of a very large, uncut cock pressed against the tight fabric, thick and heavy even at rest. Frank carried himself like a man who knew exactly what he looked like and exactly what effect it had.

"Glad you showed," Frank said, voice low. He didn't smile. He simply nodded once and started jogging without another word.

Marc fell in beside him.

The first kilometer was easy, a gentle warm-up pace along the gravel path. Frank set a solid rhythm, breathing steady, arms pumping. Marc matched him effortlessly, keeping his own stride light and controlled. He could feel the older man's presence like a physical force: the heat radiating off Frank's body, the occasional huff of breath, the way Frank's broad shoulders rolled with each step. Marc kept his eyes forward, but his peripheral vision caught everything. The flex of Frank's ass under those shorts. The way sweat was already beginning to darken the fabric between his shoulder blades. The heavy swing of that impressive cock with every stride.

They ran in silence for the first twenty minutes. When Frank finally spoke, it was clipped and direct.

"You keep up better than I expected."

Marc allowed himself a small, modest smile. "I run a lot back home. Helps clear the head after long days of spreadsheets."

Frank grunted. "Good. I don't carry dead weight."

The words were harsh, but Marc felt a spark of heat low in his belly anyway. He liked the challenge in Frank's tone. Liked the way the older man pushed forward, testing him without realizing it. Marc held back just enough to stay neck-and-neck, never letting on that he could surge ahead and leave Frank in the dust if he wanted. Not yet.

They finished the loop, five solid kilometers, both of them breathing harder now, skin glistening. At the water fountain near the start, Frank bent to drink. Marc stood a step behind, watching the way the compression top rode up to expose a strip of tanned, hairy lower back, the waistband of the shorts dipping just low enough to hint at the trimmed dark hair disappearing beneath. When Frank straightened and turned, their eyes met for a beat longer than necessary.

"Same time Thursday," Frank said. "Don't be late."

Marc nodded, throat tight. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Frank walked off toward the parking area without another word, leaving Marc standing there with his heart hammering and a very clear, very inconvenient awareness of how turned on he already was. He adjusted himself discreetly in his shorts and started the walk back to the S-Bahn, mind replaying every flex of muscle, every heavy breath, every arrogant tilt of Frank's head.

... To be continued

Summary: Fresh out of his master's degree, athletic and openly gay Marc Fischer starts a demanding job at a Munich consultancy firm. His boss, the grumpy, snobbish, and closeted alpha Frank Klink, immediately intrigues him. When Marc joins Frank's "running group," it turns out to be just the two of them. What starts as charged runs, lingering locker-room tension, and slow-burn attraction gradually cracks Frank's armored exterior.

Start the Series here!

Next Chapter --->

---

1. Madman

Marc Fischer stepped into the gleaming lobby of the F+ Munich office building and felt a rush of adrenaline hit him square in the chest. At twenty-five, fresh out of his master's program in business administration back in Cologne, he had just moved across the country for this exact moment. The firm specialized in high-stakes consulting for the biggest German car manufacturers, and Marc had crushed the assessment center. He was one of only three new hires selected from over two hundred applicants. His lean, athletic frame moved with easy confidence as he adjusted the knot of his tie. Blond hair neatly combed, clean-shaven face glowing from the brisk walk from the S-Bahn, he looked every bit the sharp young professional he intended to be. Underneath the crisp white shirt and tailored navy suit, though, his body was already humming with the kind of restless energy he usually burned off on a long run or a beach volleyball court. Today, that energy had nowhere to go except straight into his new life.

The elevator doors slid open on the fifth floor and deposited him into a bright, open-plan workspace filled with glass partitions and sleek desks. A young woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile approached him immediately.

"Hi, you must be Marc Fischer," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Emily Berger. Welcome to the team. I'll be your onboarding buddy today."

Emily was twenty-eight, dressed in a crisp blouse and pencil skirt, and she radiated the kind of disciplined efficiency that made Marc relax instantly. She walked him through the basics: security badge, email setup, the shared drive full of client files on the latest Volkswagen and BMW projects. Within minutes she had him seated at his new desk, a coffee in hand, and was pointing out the key players scattered around the open office.

"That's Chris over there," she said, nodding toward a thirty-two-year-old man hunched over dual monitors, glasses perched on his nose. Chris gave a quick wave and a shy grin before diving back into whatever spreadsheet held his attention. "Smart as hell, but do not ask him to join anything that involves actual physical movement. He once tried a company hike and lasted about fifteen minutes."

Marc chuckled. "Noted."

Emily's voice dropped a little as she gestured toward a desk near the window. "And that is Josh. California transplant, thirty-five, and the only person here who can make even the most brutal deadline feel like a comedy sketch."

Josh looked up from his keyboard, flashed a bright smile, and stood to shake Marc's hand. He had an easy, athletic build under his button-down, dark hair tousled just enough to look intentional, and an openly friendly vibe that screamed "instant ally."

"Welcome to the madhouse, Marc," Josh said, voice carrying a faint West Coast lilt. "If you need the real scoop on anything, or just someone to vent to after your first week of soul-crushing PowerPoint marathons, my door is always open. Or my Slack channel. Whichever is less depressing."

Marc liked him immediately. There was something comforting about Josh's humor, and the quick, knowing glance they shared told Marc that Josh had already clocked him as family. Good. Being openly gay had never been an issue for Marc, but it was nice to know he had at least one person in the office who would get it without explanation.

The morning passed in a blur of introductions and orientation slides. By eleven, the entire division was called into the main conference room for a team alignment meeting. Marc took a seat near the back, notebook open, trying to look both eager and professional. The room buzzed with quiet conversation until the door opened and Frank Klink walked in.

The air seemed to shift.

Frank was forty-six, and he carried his age like a weapon. Short, perfectly styled brown hair framed a strong, angular face dominated by a neat, trimmed beard that accentuated a square jaw. His dark suit was tailored to perfection, hugging broad shoulders and a chest that clearly spent serious time in the gym. Even from across the room Marc could see the way the fabric stretched over powerful arms and a flat stomach. Frank moved with the kind of disciplined authority that made everyone sit up straighter. He set a leather portfolio on the table, scanned the room once, and began speaking without preamble.

"New faces today," Frank said, voice deep and clipped. His eyes landed on Marc for a fraction of a second longer than the others. "Marc Fischer. Masters from Cologne. Top performer in the assessment center. You'll be supporting the BMW account directly under my lead."

Marc nodded, pulse quickening. Up close, Frank was even more striking. The faint scent of expensive cologne drifted across the table. Marc's gaze flicked involuntarily to the way Frank's shirt collar framed the base of his throat, to the subtle flex of muscle beneath the fabric when he gestured. Marc had always had a weakness for the dad type, the confident, older, in-control kind of man who looked like he could bench-press a small car and still make it look effortless. Frank checked every single box. And yet there was an edge to him, something cool and distant in those sharp hazel eyes that warned Marc not to get too comfortable.

Frank continued, laying out the current portfolio. They were in the middle of a massive project for one of the premium manufacturers, pressure high, deadlines tighter than ever. He expected excellence, he said. No excuses. When Chris asked a clarifying question about data timelines, Frank's response was short, almost dismissive.

"Figure it out, Chris. That's why we pay you the big numbers."

A few people shifted uncomfortably. Emily shot Marc a small, sympathetic glance. Josh rolled his eyes so subtly only Marc caught it.

The meeting wrapped with Frank assigning action items. As people filed out, he lingered by the door.

"One more thing," he announced, voice carrying across the room. "I run a small group after work three times a week. Keeps the mind sharp, the body sharper. Anyone interested is welcome. We meet at the Englischer Garten entrance near the Chinese Tower. Six thirty sharp. No stragglers."

Most of the team exchanged quick looks. Chris muttered something about "death marches" under his breath. Emily smiled politely but shook her head. Josh leaned toward Marc as they left the conference room.

"Don't do it, man," he said quietly, voice laced with amusement and warning. "Frank's a machine on the pavement. He runs like he's trying to outrun his own personality. First session, he basically bullied two guys off the team last quarter. Calls it motivation. I call it being a massive dick. Trust me, stick to the gym on your own time."

Marc nodded, but something in his chest had already decided otherwise. He had always loved running. It was his escape, his reset. And the idea of sharing that with Frank, of seeing that powerful body in motion, sweat darkening his shirt, muscles working under those expensive clothes, sent a low, warm spark through Marc's stomach. He knew it was probably stupid. He knew the warnings. But the thought of holding his own next to a man like Frank, of pushing himself while trying not to stare at the way Frank's broad back moved, felt too tempting to pass up.

By the end of the day, Marc had his badge, his laptop configured, and a stack of reading material on the latest automotive supply chain challenges. Emily had already walked him through three client files and offered to grab lunch together the next day. Josh had sent him a Slack message with three GIFs and the words "survival tips for new meat." Chris had nodded at him once in passing, eyes already back on his screens.

Marc was packing up when Frank appeared at the edge of his desk.

"Fischer."

Marc looked up. Frank stood there, arms crossed, suit jacket now off and draped over one forearm. The short sleeves of his dress shirt revealed forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair. Marc's throat tightened for a second.

"Yes, Mr. Klink?"

"Frank," he corrected, though the word came out more like an order than an invitation. "Running group. You in or not?"

Marc didn't hesitate. "I'm in."

Frank's eyebrow lifted a fraction, the closest thing to surprise Marc had seen all day. "Good. Don't be late. I don't slow down for anyone."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Marc staring after the broad line of his back and the confident stride that screamed control.

Josh appeared at Marc's side a moment later, shaking his head.

"You absolute madman. I warned you."

Marc grinned, trying to ignore the way his pulse had kicked up again. "I like a challenge."

Josh laughed. "Famous last words, my friend. Just don't say I didn't tell you."

Marc locked his desk, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed for the elevators. Outside, the Munich evening was cooling off, the city lights beginning to flicker on. He thought about the week ahead, the projects waiting on his laptop, the new apartment still half-unpacked in Schwabing. But mostly he thought about six thirty tomorrow at the Englischer Garten. About lacing up his running shoes and stepping onto the path beside Frank Klink. About the slow, deliberate way he would hold himself back at first, matching pace without revealing how easily he could pull ahead. About the heat that would build between them under the trees, the sound of their breathing, the occasional brush of shoulders when the trail narrowed.

He smiled to himself as he stepped onto the street. This job was going to be interesting. Very interesting.

The next afternoon Marc arrived at the meeting point ten minutes early. The park was beautiful, paths winding under ancient trees, the distant sound of the Eisbach surfers echoing faintly. He wore his favorite running kit: black compression shorts that hugged his lean, athletic legs, a fitted gray tank that showed off the definition in his shoulders and chest, and the lightweight trainers that had carried him through half-marathons back in Cologne. His blond body hair was trimmed neat and short, just visible at the collar of the tank. He stretched lightly against a tree, feeling the familiar pull in his hamstrings, already imagining the burn that would come later.

At six thirty exactly, Frank appeared.

He wore tight black running shorts and a matching compression top that left almost nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung to every ridge of muscle across his chest and abs, the dark hair on his torso visible through the material in a way that made Marc's mouth go dry. Frank's legs were thick with power, calves carved from years of disciplined training. And between those powerful thighs, the unmistakable outline of a very large, uncut cock pressed against the tight fabric, thick and heavy even at rest. Frank carried himself like a man who knew exactly what he looked like and exactly what effect it had.

"Glad you showed," Frank said, voice low. He didn't smile. He simply nodded once and started jogging without another word.

Marc fell in beside him.

The first kilometer was easy, a gentle warm-up pace along the gravel path. Frank set a solid rhythm, breathing steady, arms pumping. Marc matched him effortlessly, keeping his own stride light and controlled. He could feel the older man's presence like a physical force: the heat radiating off Frank's body, the occasional huff of breath, the way Frank's broad shoulders rolled with each step. Marc kept his eyes forward, but his peripheral vision caught everything. The flex of Frank's ass under those shorts. The way sweat was already beginning to darken the fabric between his shoulder blades. The heavy swing of that impressive cock with every stride.

They ran in silence for the first twenty minutes. When Frank finally spoke, it was clipped and direct.

"You keep up better than I expected."

Marc allowed himself a small, modest smile. "I run a lot back home. Helps clear the head after long days of spreadsheets."

Frank grunted. "Good. I don't carry dead weight."

The words were harsh, but Marc felt a spark of heat low in his belly anyway. He liked the challenge in Frank's tone. Liked the way the older man pushed forward, testing him without realizing it. Marc held back just enough to stay neck-and-neck, never letting on that he could surge ahead and leave Frank in the dust if he wanted. Not yet.

They finished the loop, five solid kilometers, both of them breathing harder now, skin glistening. At the water fountain near the start, Frank bent to drink. Marc stood a step behind, watching the way the compression top rode up to expose a strip of tanned, hairy lower back, the waistband of the shorts dipping just low enough to hint at the trimmed dark hair disappearing beneath. When Frank straightened and turned, their eyes met for a beat longer than necessary.

"Same time Thursday," Frank said. "Don't be late."

Marc nodded, throat tight. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Frank walked off toward the parking area without another word, leaving Marc standing there with his heart hammering and a very clear, very inconvenient awareness of how turned on he already was. He adjusted himself discreetly in his shorts and started the walk back to the S-Bahn, mind replaying every flex of muscle, every heavy breath, every arrogant tilt of Frank's head.

... To be continued