The office of Pinnacle Marketing buzzed with the late-night hum of desperation and caffeine. Cubicles stretched endlessly under the harsh fluorescent lights, each desk a battlefield of crumpled Post-its, half-empty coffee cups, and the faint scent of burnt popcorn from the break room microwave. It was past 9 PM, and the deadline for the quarterly campaign loomed like a guillotine. Most of the team had fled hours ago, leaving only the diehards—or the suckers—to slog through the final edits.
Mark Tanner leaned over his desk, his toned arms flexing subtly as he scribbled a note on a mock-up ad. His sharp jawline caught the light, a smirk playing on his lips as he tossed a glance across the aisle. At twenty-eight, Mark was the office charmer, a man who could sweet-talk a client into a million-dollar deal or flirt his way out of a missed deadline. His runner’s build—lean, taut, and always in motion—made him the subject of more than a few watercooler fantasies. But tonight, his focus wasn’t on the campaign. It was on Eric.
Eric Voss sat hunched over his laptop, his broad shoulders tense under a crisp white shirt that strained slightly at the seams. Also twenty-eight, Eric was the quieter of the two, his athletic frame a product of relentless gym sessions rather than natural swagger. His dark hair fell just over his brow as he typed, his jaw tight with concentration—or something deeper. He carried a weight no one else could see, a curse that had haunted him since his first heartbreak at seventeen. Every relationship he’d dared to pursue ended the same way: his partner ballooned in size, their body transforming in ways that defied logic, while Eric’s own muscles swelled unnaturally, as if feeding off their ruin. He’d sworn off love after the last disaster, but Mark… Mark was a problem.
“Yo, Voss,” Mark called out, spinning a pen between his fingers like a magician. “You gonna stare at that screen until it confesses its sins, or are we actually gonna finish this tonight?”
Eric didn’t look up, but a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Some of us take our jobs seriously, Tanner. Not everyone can charm their way through a deadline.”
Mark barked a laugh, leaning back in his chair with a stretch that showcased the hard lines of his chest beneath his fitted polo. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you don’t wanna ditch this dump and grab a beer? I bet I could charm you into saying yes before you even finish that spreadsheet.”
Eric’s fingers paused on the keyboard, his hazel eyes flicking up to meet Mark’s. There it was—that glint of mischief in Mark’s gaze, the one that had been chipping away at Eric’s resolve for months. Their banter had started as harmless office teasing, sly glances over stale donuts at meetings, but lately, it carried an edge. A heat. And Eric, damn him, couldn’t stop himself from playing along, even as dread coiled in his gut.
“You’d lose that bet,” Eric shot back, his voice low and steady, though his heart thudded traitorously. “I’ve got more willpower than you’ve got pickup lines.”
Mark grinned, standing and sauntering over to Eric’s cubicle with the easy confidence of a man who always got what he wanted. He leaned against the partition, arms crossed, his biceps flexing just enough to draw the eye. “That’s a challenge, big guy. And I never back down from a challenge. How about this: one drink. Just one. If I can’t make you laugh by the end of it, I’ll do your expense reports for a month.”
Eric snorted, leaning back in his chair to mirror Mark’s posture, though his broad shoulders seemed to carry a heavier burden. “You’re assuming I’d trust you with my numbers. I’ve seen your math skills, Mark. They’re as shaky as your game.”
“Ouch,” Mark clutched his chest dramatically, his smirk widening. “You wound me, Voss. But I’ll have you know, my game is airtight. Ask anyone in this office. Hell, ask Linda in HR—she still blushes when I walk by.”
Eric rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Linda blushes at everyone. She’s got a crush on the coffee machine.”
Mark laughed, a rich, warm sound that seemed to fill the empty office. “Alright, fine. But you can’t deny I’ve got you halfway to a yes already. I can see it in those brooding eyes of yours.”
Eric’s stomach flipped at the comment, his mind screaming at him to shut this down before it went too far. But Mark’s gaze—playful, piercing, persistent—pinned him in place. He stood abruptly, needing distance, and muttered something about needing more coffee. Mark, of course, followed.
The break room was a dismal corner of the office, with a flickering light and a coffee machine that sputtered like it was on its last legs. Eric busied himself with a Styrofoam cup, his back to Mark, trying to ignore the way his pulse raced. *Don’t do this,* he told himself. *You know what happens. You can’t afford to want him.*
Mark leaned against the counter beside him, close enough that Eric could smell the faint citrus of his cologne. “So,” Mark drawled, his voice dropping an octave, “what’s it gonna take to get you to loosen up, Eric? I’ve been throwing myself at you for weeks, and you’re still playing hard to get. I’m starting to think you enjoy making me beg.”
Eric’s hand tightened around the coffee pot, his knuckles whitening. He turned his head just enough to meet Mark’s eyes, his own expression a mix of exasperation and something dangerously close to longing. “You’re not begging, Tanner. You’re fishing. And I’m not biting.”
Mark’s smirk turned wicked, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Oh, I think you are. You just don’t wanna admit it. Tell you what—let me take you out for that drink, and I’ll prove I’m worth the risk. One hour. No strings. Unless, of course, you’re into that kinda thing.”
Eric’s breath hitched, a flush creeping up his neck. He set the coffee pot down with more force than necessary, turning fully to face Mark now, his broad frame towering just slightly over the other man. “You’re relentless, you know that? Most people would take a hint by now.”
Mark didn’t back down, stepping closer instead, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Most people don’t know a good thing when they see it. I do. And I’m not giving up until I get a taste of whatever’s got you so damn guarded.”
The air between them crackled, thick with unspoken tension. Eric’s mind raced—part of him wanted to shove Mark against the counter and kiss that smug grin off his face, curse be damned. But the other part, the louder part, screamed at him to run. He’d seen what his curse could do. He’d watched lovers transform, their bodies warping under some cruel magic he couldn’t control, while his own grew stronger, harder, as if mocking their pain. He couldn’t let that happen to Mark. Not when Mark looked at him like… like that.
“Fine,” Eric said finally, his voice rough, almost defeated. “One drink. But don’t think this means anything, Tanner. I’m just shutting you up for the night.”
Mark’s grin was triumphant, his eyes alight with victory. “That’s all I need, Voss. One drink to start. You’ll see—I’m irresistible.”
Eric shook his head, hiding the storm of dread behind a forced smirk as they headed back to their desks to wrap up. Inside, Mark was buzzing with cocky confidence, already planning how to turn one drink into something more. He thrived on the chase, and Eric was the ultimate prize—stoic, mysterious, and just out of reach. But for Eric, every step toward that bar felt like a step toward disaster. He could feel the curse lurking, a shadow waiting to strike, and as Mark’s laughter echoed beside him, he wondered if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.