The Chaser by J_hoop256,J_hoop256 Jordan was a timid, anxious, and mildly awkward 25-year-old man, who, unlike the rest of his peers, had the privilege of living alone in his 2-story town home in Eros City. Like New York, Dubai, London, and even Tokyo, it was one of the largest metropolitan areas in the world, with its main commerce centering around arguably the biggest human innate desire and interest: sex.
In Eros City, not only is prostitution legalized and respected as a job of value much like a doctor or lawyer, but it’s even a way of life. The only catch is, due to laws and regularities, the usual sexual perversions such as public nudity, public sex, or anything that crosses the line as too blatantly offensive and inappropriate are not to be allowed, since there is a small population of children. It’s a bit like Las Vegas. Sure, it’s a city like any other, children attend school there and babies are born every few minutes in local hospitals, but some common sense should be used in understanding that once you go through certain doors and clubs, it’s not for the eyes of the innocent.
Jordan found himself living a comfortable life in the city as an IT software engineer for a famous porn website. The site centered on both straight and gay porn, but he mostly found himself focusing most of his work towards the male-to-male section…
Having access to most of the site accessibility for his work allowed him permission to view every single video the site held, either free to view, locked for purchase, or soon to be streaming. And boy, did Jordan use that power to his advantage. Many cum-filled-wasted nights were had, which often left him feeling low on energy whenever he showed up to work or even when he worked from home. Energy drinks were his lifesaver.
But it also made him highly depressed. He didn’t just want to stroke his life away to a screen day after day; he wanted the real thing. He’d been on only a few dates ever in his life, all with women, but none of them ever went anywhere. Jordan had no game, no flirting skills, no sex appeal (at least to him), and, worst of all (to him), he was a virgin. His lack of experience and touch deprivation made him quite lonely.
So he decided to search the internet for local escorts in the area, in order to finally get a taste of what he’d been craving: male contact. After filtering through several men of all sorts of shapes and sizes, he came across one that caught his attention. A 6’2, sleek, slender, but toned and muscular guy with dark brown, short, curly hair. His eyes were bluish-gray, but narrow and arched like a mischievous fox, as did his eyebrows. His profile picture stared straight into Jordan’s soul. He looked charming yet intimidating. But that stirred something within the timid virgin.
Jordan reviewed his bio and was even more attracted as he read on:
Name: Chase Turner
Age: 27
Height: 6’2
Eye color: Gray
Weight: 186 lbs
Orientation: Pansexual
Position: Top
Zodiac: Scorpio
Interests: martial arts, kickboxing, gymnastics, soccer, basketball, wrestling, boxing, parkour, dancing, skiing, rock climbing, skateboarding, surfing, skydiving, science, art, literature, history studies, cooking, health & nutrition, yoga
And the list went on. Jordan was overwhelmed and amazed by this man’s versatility.
“He is the most interesting man in the world,” Jordan muttered to himself jokingly in his worst Jonathan Goldsmith impression.
But seriously, what didn’t this guy do? Mr. Turner posted many pictures of him travelling across the world, dining in some of the finest restaurants, resorts, chilling on the most serene of beaches, hiking in the great, luscious terrains of Europe, Africa, and Asia, and even some heart-warming humanitarian and animal activism pics of his volunteer work. There were ones of him fencing, striking a guy right in his chest, the next one of him pinning men down (some twice his size) in the hottest of wrestling positions, others of him showcasing his incredible strength and balance on gymnastic floor mats, and plenty of ones showing his abs and bulging veins.
Mr. Turner then included what his main specialty was, and from the reviews, Jordan found it intriguing. Chase specialized in just what his name implied: he lives for ‘the chase.’ His repeating clients and new ones alike have a particular fetish of playing an elaborate game of hide-and-go-seek or tag across the entire metro, with one (the client) playing the role of the ‘prey’ and he as the ‘chaser.’ The words ‘prey’ and ‘chaser’ got Jordan’s blood pumping. Mr. Turner, upon catching his prey, would then do whatever he wished with them, with ‘whatever’ being a number of things…
But he doesn’t just like to catch them early on and too easily from the start. He likes to play with his prey a bit. You might see him standing there already an entire block across from you, with a devilish smirk, eyes locked on you like a hawk, while you cower and run like a pathetic bitch in the opposite direction. You can run and try to hide, he’ll always catch you eventually. His methods of reaching you are always a step ahead, and his advanced parkour skills and heightened athleticism make him hard to outrun. But that was the excitement in it all. His clients aren’t trying to win, they’re trying to get caught.
Being sold on it, Jordan sent him some texts, and the next day, Mr. Turner agreed to meet at Jordan’s place for lunch to discuss a few rules before they began their afternoon-long session, which, as Chase entailed, could last the entire evening.
When he met Chase at the door, Jordan was speechless and quivered like a squirrel. The man was strikingly handsome in just a gym sweater and soccer pants and sneakers. He fit the role of what he’d seen many porn sites and forums categories as ‘scallies’ or soccer-type of men who fit the role. And those eyes, those penetrative eyes stared right through his soul and sent a shiver down Jordan’s entire body.
“Hello, Jordan?” Chase asked in a smooth British accent.
“Y-Yeah,” Jordan responded. “Hi.”
“Hello there,” Chase smiled, sensing Jordan’s clear nervousness. “I’m Chase. Nice to meet you.”
Turner extended his hand for him to shake, and as Jordan grabbed it, he could feel the man’s strong grip, encapsulated by the tree-like veins and beautifully long piano fingers.
“Please, come in,” Jordan invited him.
The two sat down and ate the lunch Jordan prepared for them both. Well, he didn’t actually prepare it; it was just takeout from a local sushi restaurant, but it was of great quality and by no means cheap. The two men broke the ice from there on.
“So, Jordan, what interests you about me, and what plans do you have for the both of us this afternoon?” Chase asked, spinning and twiddling his chopsticks in his hand.
Jordan swallowed down a spicy tuna, anxiously wiping his mouth before looking the man in the eyes again to answer his question. God, that look. That face. Those eyes.
“I, uh…” Jordan started but couldn’t muster anything. “I think-
“I’m hot?” Chase smiled, flicking up a single eyebrow. He was such a charmer. He wasn’t wrong, of course.
“Well, yeah,” Jordan said. “You’re like so freakin’ hot, man. Geez.”
Chase chuckled. “I’m flattered. I did used to model some years ago.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“Got to travel all over the world and meet all sorts of wonderful people. I love to travel.”
“I could tell from your profile,” Jordan sat still bedazzled by Chase’s sharp jawline and eyes.
“But what really drew you to my profile, hm?” Chase began to pry further.
Jordan’s heart fluttered, his cheeks blushed.
“I saw that your main specialty was… playing tag?” Jordan asked.
“Oh, that amongst other things, but you are correct,” Chase smirked. “Is that something that interests you, Jordan?”
Jordan loved it when he said his name like that. In that accent, while he looked at him in that devilish way.
“Uh-huh,” Jordan said hypnotized. “I mean, yes. Yes, it does.”
“Hmm,” Chase grinned. “Good. I find it just as intriguing and stimulating of a hobby as most of my clients do. A predator chasing its prey, in a classic game of cat and mouse. Nothing quite like it. It’s exhilarating, the rush, the adrenaline, the fear of wondering where your pursuer is at every second, in every corner…”
Hearing him talk about it made Jordan’s pants stiffen. Thankfully, he thought, Chase couldn’t notice under the table.
“Do you always catch your clients?” Jordan asked.
Chase leaned forward with his intimidating glare. “Every time,” he answered.
How Jordan’s dick was fully erect underneath his pants. He loved his confidence, his cockiness. It was driving him wild.
“I like to let them know at first that they have the upper hand,” Chase continued. “Sometimes I let them think they’ll get away, give them some time to make a run for it, and before they know it, they’ve got my hand around their throat, and the other tucked beneath their pants grabbing their ballsack.”
“Oh,” Jordan uttered, almost like a groan.
“Other times I’ll grab them by my legs, crushing them with my thighs, or if I’m hanging from a tree, swoop down and lift them off their feet, choking them like a boa constrictor. Some of my clients like a good squeeze.”
Chase winked as he said it, taking a bite of his sushi roll.
“Damn, you must be really strong to do that.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Chase said, chewing and swallowing his food. Even watching him eat was sexy, Jordan thought.
“Could you lift me, do you think?”
“Do I ‘think’?” Chase said followed by a taunting laugh. “I once tossed a guy over on the wrestling mat one time after he tried to rush me from behind when I wasn’t looking. Grappled and threw him all the way over to the opposite side of the mat. He was twice your size and weight. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” He gave a wink, causing Jordan to blush.
The thought of that image excited Jordan all the more. Being dominated was one of his fantasies he never got to experience yet with another man. He’d been bullied and pushed around in school growing up, but even when he got home and felt weak and pathetic, he would always later find himself having wet dreams or pleasuring himself to his jock aggressors repeatedly.
“So, Jordan,” Chase started, putting down his chopsticks. “When will you be ready?”
Jordan was ready whenever. “Uh, whenever you want, I guess?” he answered.
Chase chuckled. “Good… ’cause I’m ready.”
The way he said it made Jordan’s heart spike even more.
Jordan stood in the middle of the city, heart pounding, eyes locked on the phone in his hand. The timer on the screen blinked steadily, counting down the minutes until the game would begin. Pedestrians moved around him, the hum of Eros City’s life swirling in the background, but Jordan felt completely alone. The anticipation was suffocating.
What was I thinking? he wondered, trying to steady his breath. Chase had been so casual about it all, so confident. The things he said–how he’d grab him, choke him, catch him. Jordan’s throat tightened. Was he for real? Would it actually go down like that? He couldn’t tell if his fear was making him sick or if it was something else.
He looked around, scanning the buildings, the alleyways, the sidewalks. Anywhere Chase might be. Waiting. Watching. Was he out there already?
The timer continued to tick down, the seconds feeling like hours.
—
Meanwhile, Chase remained in Jordan’s apartment, utterly unbothered. He sat back at the table, lazily finishing his sushi, chewing slowly as he stared at the wall, looking almost bored. The edge of his mouth curled into a faint smirk, amusement flickering behind those fox-like eyes.
He had given Jordan a head start, sure, but there was no rush. Jordan wasn’t going anywhere he couldn’t find him. Chase stretched his arms above his head, letting out a quiet groan of satisfaction as his muscles tensed and relaxed. He cracked his neck, slow and deliberate, feeling the tension roll away. He knew Jordan was out there, panicking, probably sweating through his clothes by now. The thought made him smile.
Chase stood, rolling his shoulders. His body moved with fluidity, power restrained beneath the surface. He checked his watch. Almost time.
Taking his time, he strolled over to the sink, washing his hands, drying them with a slow, deliberate motion. He took one last bite of sushi, letting the flavor linger on his tongue, savoring the moment. He was in control. Always in control. Let him run. The fun was in catching him.
With a deep breath, Chase stretched again, his shirt pulling tight against his chest. He flexed his fingers, rotating his wrists, loosening up his joints. The anticipation was there, sure, but not in the same way Jordan felt it. For Chase, this was methodical. Calculated. A game.
The chase is always the best part, he thought, his lips curling into a wider grin.
—
Jordan checked the timer again. Two minutes left. His heart rate spiked. His mind raced through everything Chase had said. He wouldn’t really choke me, would he? Jordan’s thoughts spiraled. He imagined Chase’s strong hands, those thick fingers wrapping around his throat. The way he’d so casually described squeezing his clients until they could barely breathe. Jordan’s breath quickened just thinking about it. Could I really handle this?
He looked around the busy street again, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Where would he hide? Where could he run? It all seemed so open, so vulnerable. His legs felt like lead, stuck in place, and he could barely think straight with the timer ticking down in his hand. He felt like prey already.
One minute left.
Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He wiped his palms on his jeans, trying to calm himself, but his pulse was thudding in his ears. This is insane. He couldn’t see Chase yet, but that didn’t make him feel safe. In fact, it made it worse.
Thirty seconds.
Jordan’s breath hitched. He glanced at the timer again, his mouth dry, stomach in knots. Was Chase really going to do all the things he said? Or was it all talk?
The streets blurred together, his mind racing. His body was frozen with a mix of dread and–though he hated to admit it–something else. Something darker. Something primal.
—
Back at the apartment, Chase took one last look around, finally grabbing his jacket and slipping it on. He glanced at his watch, eyes darkening with the thrill of the hunt. Ten seconds.
Chase cracked his knuckles, his body coiled and ready, his gaze sharpening. He could almost feel Jordan’s panic in the air. He loved that feeling–knowing the other man was out there, nervous, afraid, but deep down, craving it.
The final seconds ticked away.
Three.
Chase adjusted his collar, walking to the door, calm and collected.
Two.
He smirked, feeling the rush build inside him.
One.
The timer hit zero.
The game had begun.
Jordan felt the chill before he saw anything. It crawled up the back of his neck like icy fingers, a sensation that prickled his skin, making his breath catch in his throat. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement–or some perverse, twisted blend of the two. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest that it drowned out the noise of the city around him. He scanned the area, eyes darting from one corner to another. There was no sign of Chase.
Was he really out here? Jordan swallowed hard, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans again, though it did nothing to calm the nervous energy surging through his body. He could feel something lingering just out of sight. A presence. But every time he turned, nothing was there. He shook his head, trying to focus, trying to think logically, but logic was in short supply.
A car honked nearby, making Jordan flinch. He glanced to his left–was that a shadow slipping into the alley? He squinted, his pulse racing. Was that him? It couldn’t have been. It was too quick, just a flicker of movement. He was probably just imagining things. His nerves were getting the best of him. Jordan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. But the unsettling sensation remained.
Is he watching me? The thought looped in his mind, gnawing at him. He hadn’t seen Chase yet, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Chase had already seen him. It was as if the city itself was playing tricks on him, the crowded streets and towering buildings closing in, suffocating him.
Jordan forced himself to move, taking a few tentative steps forward. His eyes darted to every dark corner, every shadowed alleyway. The feeling of being hunted, of being prey, grew heavier with every step. His legs felt weak, his mouth dry. He stopped at a crosswalk, looking over his shoulder. The crowd around him blurred into a meaningless haze, his focus narrowing to the sensation creeping over his skin. Was someone following him?
He forced himself to keep walking, though his movements felt mechanical, almost robotic. His mind was racing, replaying Chase’s words–how he would catch him, wrap his hand around his throat, make him submit. The image flashed through Jordan’s mind, vivid and terrifying, yet strangely intoxicating. His breath hitched at the thought, his body reacting before his mind could even process what was happening. Was Chase serious? Could he really be out there, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
Jordan shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, but the uncertainty only made things worse. Every step felt heavier, the tension building inside him like a coiled spring. He moved through the city like a ghost, unnoticed by the people around him, yet hyper-aware of every sound, every flicker of movement.
He turned a corner, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. There, across the street, was a figure. Tall. Lean. Strong. Jordan froze, his breath catching in his throat. It had to be Chase. The man was standing still, arms casually crossed, head tilted slightly to one side. The distance made it hard to see clearly, but Jordan could feel that familiar presence–the one that had been looming over him since the game began.
The man’s eyes locked on him, and Jordan’s stomach flipped. Was it him? His brain screamed at him to run, but his body refused to move. The man didn’t budge. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, watching him with an intensity that made Jordan’s skin crawl. The seconds stretched out, thick with tension.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the figure smiled.
Jordan’s heart lurched. It’s him. He was sure of it now. The smile was predatory, dark, full of promises Jordan wasn’t sure he was ready for. A chill ran down his spine, and suddenly, his legs were moving before his brain caught up. He turned sharply, weaving through the crowd, not caring who he bumped into. His breath came in short, panicked bursts, adrenaline surging through his veins. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, the pressure mounting with every step.
As he moved through the busy street, he stole a glance over his shoulder. The figure was gone. Vanished. Jordan stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving. He whipped his head around, scanning the area. Where did he go?
For a moment, everything was still. The sounds of the city faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding in his ears. Jordan strained his eyes, trying to spot Chase in the crowd, but there was nothing. No sign of him. The uncertainty gnawed at him, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Is he playing with me?
Suddenly, Jordan felt a presence behind him–close. Too close. His breath hitched, his body stiffening. He didn’t dare turn around. He could feel the heat of someone’s breath on the back of his neck, the air charged with a palpable tension. His stomach twisted into knots, his mind screaming for him to move, but he was frozen, paralyzed by the fear and anticipation coursing through him.
Thanks for reading pls vote or comment “Boo,” a voice whispered in his ear, low and mocking.
Jordan yelped, his entire body jolting as he spun around. But there was no one there. The crowd buzzed around him, indifferent to his panic. He blinked, disoriented, trying to catch his breath. Was I imagining it? His skin was slick with sweat, his clothes clinging to him, the sensation of being hunted closing in tighter with every second.
Jordan stumbled forward, his legs feeling like jelly. He pushed through the crowd, desperately searching for a place to hide, but everywhere felt too open, too exposed. His heart raced faster than he could keep up, his mind spiraling into a chaotic mess of fear and excitement.
He rounded another corner, ducking into a narrow alleyway, pressing himself against the cold, damp wall. He clutched his chest, trying to calm his breathing, but the adrenaline coursing through his body made it impossible to relax. His mind was racing with thoughts of what might happen next. Was Chase really going to catch him? What would he do? The images flooded his mind–Chase’s hands on him, the force of his grip, the way he would… no, Jordan couldn’t finish the thought.
The alley was silent, the noise of the city fading into a distant hum. Jordan stood still, trying to listen for any sign of Chase, but all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. A shadow–a flicker of movement–just at the edge of the alley. Jordan’s breath caught in his throat as he turned to look, but before he could react, something grabbed him.
A strong hand wrapped around his wrist, yanking him forward with a sudden force that knocked the air from his lungs. He gasped, his body lurching toward the wall. The grip was unrelenting, the strength behind it undeniable.
Jordan’s head whipped around, eyes wide with terror. His heart stopped for a split second when he saw him–Chase. His eyes were sharp, predatory, gleaming with something dark and primal. His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile, as though he had been toying with Jordan all along.
“Caught you,” Chase whispered, his voice low and dangerous. He leaned in closer, so close that Jordan could feel his breath on his skin. “Now let’s see what I can do with you.”
Chase’s hand tightened around Jordan’s wrist, and with a swift motion, he pulled him closer, his body pressed firmly against Jordan’s. Jordan could barely breathe, his mind spinning in a whirlwind of fear, excitement, and something far more dangerous lurking beneath the surface.
He was trapped, completely at Chase’s mercy.
And God, part of him loved it.
Chase’s grip tightened even more, his lips brushing against Jordan’s ear. “I hope you’re ready, doll,” he murmured. “Because I’m just getting started.”
Jordan’s heart was hammering against his chest, his breath shallow and quick. Chase’s hand gripped him like a vice, and Jordan’s mind was caught in a whirlwind of confusion and terror–yet beneath it all, an undeniable thrill coursed through him. He managed to stammer out the words.
“What… what are you gonna do to me?” Jordan asked, his voice shaky but tinged with curiosity that even he couldn’t quite suppress.
Chase’s grin widened, his grip tightening just for a moment, making Jordan gasp softly. Then, to his surprise, Chase’s fingers loosened. His hand slid away, releasing Jordan completely. Jordan stumbled back slightly, blinking up at him in shock. Chase took a step away, stretching his arms lazily as though none of this had fazed him in the slightest.
“I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do,” Chase said casually, smoothing down his shirt with a smirk. “I’m not going to catch you right now. Too easy. Where’s the fun in that?”
Jordan stared at him, bewildered. His pulse was still racing, but now it was mixed with confusion. His mind couldn’t catch up with what was happening. Chase wasn’t going to…? Was this some kind of trick?
“I’m giving you another head start,” Chase said smoothly, as though that explained everything.
“What?” Jordan asked, shaking his head, still catching his breath. “Why?”
Chase’s smile was infuriatingly calm, like a cat toying with a mouse before deciding to give it a few more minutes to run. “Come on, Jordan,” he said, stepping closer again but with no urgency in his movements. He was loose, relaxed, eyes glinting with amusement. “The whole point is the chase, right? This was too simple. I don’t catch my clients in the first few minutes. Where’s the thrill in that? You barely even got a chance to run. That’s no fun for either of us.”
Jordan swallowed hard, looking around the alley, half-expecting this to be some elaborate trick. Chase wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. He felt like he was being toyed with, played with in some perverse, psychological game, and the uncertainty was eating him alive. “But… you–” Jordan stammered, “you said… you said you always catch your clients.”
“Oh, I do,” Chase replied, his voice low and smooth, a playful tone underneath it. “Always.” He winked, and Jordan felt his stomach flip. “But that’s not the point. The point is to let you think you might get away. Let you have a little hope. Then,” his voice dropped to a near whisper, “I crush it.”
Jordan shivered involuntarily. He remembered what Chase had said earlier, about how he liked to give his prey a false sense of control, to fuck with them. That was the game–this psychological torment, the suspense, the buildup. Chase was playing with him, deliberately stretching out the tension. It wasn’t just about the chase; it was about the thrill of anticipation, the fear and excitement mingling together in an intoxicating blend.
“You can’t be serious,” Jordan said, shaking his head again, still not trusting the offer. “You’re just… messing with me.”
Chase let out a soft, dark laugh. “Maybe I am,” he said, leaning in just close enough for Jordan to feel his breath on his skin again. “But that’s the game, isn’t it? To fuck with you a little… to make you doubt… to make you want it.”
Jordan felt heat flood his cheeks. Chase’s presence was overwhelming, making it hard to think straight. Part of him was still terrified, but another part of him–the part he was desperately trying to ignore–was undeniably intrigued. Chase was toying with him, yes, but there was something else there too. The thrill. The desire. The twisted excitement of it all.
Chase stepped back again, giving Jordan a little space, his eyes never leaving him. He tilted his head slightly, watching Jordan with that same predatory gaze. “Look, if you’re not into this, we can stop right here,” Chase said, his voice softer now, though there was still that playful edge to it. “Nothing happens without your consent, Jordan. You’re in control. You can walk away if you want. No hard feelings.” He paused, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “But… if you do want to keep playing, I suggest you make a run for it.”
Jordan swallowed again, his throat dry. His mind was a mess of conflicting emotions. He wanted to stop, didn’t he? This was too much. It was overwhelming, terrifying, too real. But the way Chase looked at him, the way his voice curled around those words–it did something to Jordan. It stirred something deep inside him, something he hadn’t even realized was there until now.
Chase watched him carefully, and Jordan knew he could sense the hesitation. He could probably feel the battle raging inside him, the way he was torn between wanting to run and wanting to stay. Chase smiled again, but this time it was softer, almost encouraging. “It’s your choice,” he said quietly, his voice taking on a more soothing tone. “I won’t force anything. You have the power here.”
Jordan’s heart raced. He knew he should walk away, but his legs felt rooted to the spot. He looked up at Chase, his eyes wide, his breath still coming in quick, shallow bursts. Part of him wanted to believe that Chase would really stop if he asked. But another part of him–God help him–wanted to keep going. He couldn’t deny it anymore. He wanted to be chased, wanted to be caught, wanted to feel that thrill again.
Jordan bit his lip, his body tingling with anticipation. He still wasn’t sure what Chase would do when he caught him, but maybe that was the point. Maybe it was the uncertainty that made this so thrilling.
Chase’s eyes were still on him, watching him closely, waiting for him to make a decision. Jordan hesitated for a moment longer, his mind still racing, but then he made his choice.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and bolted.
He could hear Chase’s soft laugh behind him as he ran, that low, dark chuckle that sent a shiver down his spine. “Good boy,” Chase murmured, though Jordan could barely hear him over the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Jordan’s legs burned as he sprinted through the narrow streets of the city, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His mind was a blur of fear and excitement, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like fire. He didn’t know where he was going–didn’t care. All he knew was that he had to keep moving, keep running, because any moment now… Chase would be after him.
But even as he ran, even as the fear gnawed at him, there was something else there too. Something thrilling. Something that made his chest tighten and his stomach twist in the most perverse way. He was running for his life, but part of him wanted to be caught.
He rounded a corner, ducking into another alleyway, trying to catch his breath. His legs were trembling, his whole body alive with sensation. He pressed his back against the wall, listening for any sign of Chase, but the city was eerily quiet. The tension hung in the air like a storm about to break.
Then, just as he thought he might have bought himself some time, he heard it.
A footstep.
Slow. Deliberate. Just around the corner.
Jordan’s breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He could feel Chase’s presence again, that familiar, predatory energy closing in on him.
The sound of another footstep echoed through the alley, closer now.
Jordan’s pulse quickened, his body trembling with fear and anticipation.
And then, just as he was about to bolt again, he heard Chase’s voice–low, dark, and full of wicked amusement.
“Run while you still can, doll.”
Jordan’s heart lurched in his chest. He didn’t even think–he just ran.
Jordan ran like his life depended on it. The city blurred around him, a cacophony of noise and light, but none of it registered. All he could think about was getting away. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest burning with the effort. His legs felt like lead, the muscles screaming with every step, but adrenaline kept him moving. Chase’s laughter echoed in his mind, that low, mocking sound that made Jordan’s skin crawl and his heart race all at once.
He turned down another alley, his sneakers slapping against the pavement as he pushed himself harder. He could feel Chase behind him–didn’t have to look to know. The man moved like a shadow, always just out of sight but always there. Jordan’s mind raced, heart hammering in his chest, trying to figure out where to go, what to do. He spotted an old, rusted fire escape ahead of him, the metal stairway leading up the side of a building like an escape route from hell.
Without a second thought, Jordan leapt onto the first rung of the fire escape ladder, his arms shaking as he hauled himself up. His fingers scrambled for grip as he climbed, legs pushing desperately against the metal rungs. His chest ached, breath hitching in shallow gasps, but he climbed higher and higher, the sound of his own labored breathing almost drowning out the world below.
Almost.
Because beneath the wheezing and the pounding of his heart, Jordan heard it. Chase’s footsteps–quick, calculated, precise. Jordan’s eyes widened, a flash of terror cutting through him. He glanced down over his shoulder and saw Chase already scaling the side of the building without even using the ladder. Chase was moving with unnerving precision, bounding from ledge to ledge, gripping onto pipes, window frames, anything that could hold weight. He kicked off a narrow windowsill, caught the edge of a fire escape, and swung his body up with ease. Every motion was deliberate, making use of every inch of the city’s architecture.
Chase’s hands caught the edge of a ventilation shaft, and in one fluid motion, he pulled himself up and pushed off again, landing gracefully on another ledge just below Jordan. His muscles coiled and uncoiled with precision as he scaled the building, using the structural imperfections of the city like footholds on a mountain. He wasn’t supernatural–he was simply relentless, his body a machine finely tuned for this kind of chase. Jordan’s stomach twisted as he watched Chase effortlessly close the distance, each leap and grip tightening the invisible noose around him.
Jesus Christ.
Jordan swore under his breath and kept moving, faster now. He didn’t dare stop. When he reached the top, he threw himself over the edge of the roof, collapsing onto the hard concrete with a thud. His body screamed in protest, his lungs burning as he gasped for air, but he didn’t have time to rest. He was up on his feet again in seconds, stumbling forward across the rooftop.
The city stretched out in front of him–a maze of rooftops, alleyways, and concrete barriers. It looked like an obstacle course, the kind of urban jungle Chase had probably trained in his whole life. For Jordan, it was a death trap. He took off running, his mind blank except for one thought: keep going.
Chase followed, his footsteps barely audible as he moved across the rooftop with a fluid, athletic grace. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He was letting Jordan run, letting him tire himself out. It was like watching a predator toy with its prey, allowing it just enough freedom to think it had a chance before swooping in for the kill. Jordan could feel that in every movement Chase made–calculated, controlled, almost effortless.
Jordan’s sneakers slipped on the rooftop gravel, his body lurching forward as he tried to correct himself. He stumbled, nearly falling, but he kept moving, the fear driving him forward even when his body was on the verge of collapse. He could hear Chase behind him, closer now, his presence palpable.
A concrete barrier loomed ahead of Jordan, and he barely registered it before he slammed his hands against the edge, launching himself over. His legs wobbled on the landing, his muscles screaming in protest, but he kept running. The rooftop stretched out before him like a battlefield, littered with air conditioning units, pipes, and metal grates. He darted between obstacles, his heart in his throat, his mind racing.
But he could hear Chase behind him–closer now, too close.
And then he reached the edge of the rooftop.
Jordan skidded to a halt, his breath catching in his throat. He looked down, and his stomach dropped. There was nothing below him but a sheer drop–a fall that would kill him if he slipped, if he made one wrong move. Panic surged through him, his hands trembling as he turned around, only to find Chase standing there, a few feet away, watching him with that same devilish grin.
Jordan’s chest heaved, his eyes darting between the edge of the roof and Chase. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Chase had him trapped, just like he said he would. But the thought of surrendering, of just giving up–Jordan couldn’t do it. Not yet. There had to be a way out. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind.
Maybe–just maybe–if he could fake Chase out, juke him, he could make it past him. It was risky, but it was his only shot. He had to try.
Jordan shifted his weight, his eyes flicking to the left for just a second before he lunged to the right, hoping to catch Chase off guard.
Jordan barely registered the movement before he felt the sting–a sharp smack on his ass. He yelped, his face flushing hot with embarrassment.
“Watch your back there, Jordy,” Chase teased.
Jordan’s heart pounded in his ears, his mind racing. He’d thought he might be able to outmaneuver Chase, but the man was playing with him, toying with him.
Jordan tried to take off running again, but Chase was on him in an instant. His hand shot out, grabbing Jordan by the back of his shirt, pulling him close. Jordan gasped, struggling to break free, but Chase was too strong. He spun Jordan around effortlessly, his hands gripping him tightly as he pressed him against one of the air conditioning units.
Jordan’s breath hitched, his mind spinning. He tried to push Chase away, but Chase only smirked, leaning in close, his breath hot against Jordan’s ear.
“You’re not getting away that easily,” Chase whispered, his voice low and dangerous. His hands slid down Jordan’s sides, rough and firm, before giving his waist a sharp squeeze. “I told you, didn’t I? I always catch my prey.”
Jordan shivered, his body reacting instinctively to Chase’s touch. His mind was screaming at him to fight back, to run, but his body… his body was betraying him. Chase could sense it, of course. He could feel the tension in Jordan’s muscles, the way he trembled beneath him.
Chase chuckled softly, his hands moving lower, teasingly brushing against the waistband of Jordan’s jeans before giving him another firm smack on the ass. “You’re mine now, Jordy,” he murmured. “Better get used to it.”
Jordan’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, his chest heaving. He felt Chase’s fingers dig into his skin. Jordan tried to move, to slip away, but Chase was quicker. He grabbed Jordan’s wrist, twisting it gently behind his back, forcing him to stay in place.
“Come on,” Chase taunted, his voice a low, teasing growl. “You really think you can get away from me? Look at you. You’re practically begging for me to catch you.”
Jordan bit his lip, trying to suppress a groan. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to acknowledge the truth, but Chase was right. He could feel it in his bones–the desire, the need to be caught. It was intoxicating, maddening, terrifying. But it was there.
Chase must have sensed it too, because he suddenly let go of Jordan, stepping back just enough to give him space.
“Go on, then,” Chase said, his voice soft, almost taunting. “Run. Let’s see if you’ve got anything left in you.”
Jordan hesitated for a split second, his body frozen with indecision. But then he bolted again, his legs burning with the effort.
He tried to pick up the pace, to put more distance between himself and Chase, but the man was relentless. He didn’t rush, didn’t try to catch him just yet. He toyed with him instead, staying close enough to make Jordan aware of his presence, to remind him that escape was futile, but not close enough to end the game. Not yet.
Jordan felt Chase’s presence like a shadow–his hand grazing the small of Jordan’s back as he passed, light and teasing. Every time Jordan thought he might get away, Chase was there, blocking him with a casual flick of his wrist or a quick, graceful step to the side. Chase would give him a little pinch on the waist as he passed, just hard enough to make Jordan flinch, sending another wave of heat rushing through his body.
Then, something inside Jordan snapped, and with a surge of adrenaline, he decided to fight back, or at least attempt to. He planted his feet, his breath ragged but determined, and threw his weight forward, aiming a wild swing at Chase’s midsection. It was desperate, clumsy–Jordan had never fought before in his life–but it was driven by sheer instinct and a desire to reclaim even a shred of control.
Thanks for reading pls vote or comment Chase’s eyes glinted with amusement, his lips curling into a wicked grin. He sidestepped Jordan’s punch with ease, moving like a practiced fighter, his body fluid and precise. Jordan barely had time to react before Chase was on him again, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him close. Chase’s strength was overwhelming, his grip firm but taunting, as though he were reminding Jordan just how little chance he stood in this game.
“You really want to play this way?” Chase purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement. He leaned in close, his breath hot against Jordan’s cheek. “I was hoping you’d try to fight back.”
Jordan growled in frustration, struggling against Chase’s grip, but the man didn’t budge. Instead, he laughed–a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Jordan’s spine. Jordan gritted his teeth and swung again, this time aiming for Chase’s head, but Chase caught his wrist mid-air, twisting it just enough to make Jordan gasp in pain. The motion was quick, efficient, designed to assert dominance without causing real damage.
Chase’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Come on, Jordy,” he said softly, his voice almost patronizing. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
Jordan grunted in frustration, trying to yank his hand free, but Chase twisted his arm behind his back in one smooth motion, locking him in place. Jordan gasped as he felt Chase’s chest press against his back, the man’s grip unyielding. He tried to throw an elbow back, aiming for Chase’s ribs, but Chase was faster. He caught Jordan’s elbow with his free hand, pinning him even tighter.
Jordan’s mind raced, panic mingling with the strange, dark thrill of being so completely dominated. He fought against it–tried to ignore the way his body reacted to Chase’s touch, the heat that flooded through him with every taunt, every teasing movement.
Chase was relentless. He released Jordan’s arm just long enough to grab the waistband of his pants, yanking them up in a sudden, humiliating wedgie that made Jordan gasp. His face flushed hot with embarrassment, a sharp yelp escaping his lips as Chase tugged hard, the fabric painfully digging into his crack. He gave the waistband another firm tug, chuckling softly as Jordan’s body jerked involuntarily in response.
Jordan tried to shove Chase away, twisting his body in a desperate attempt to break free, but Chase was too strong. He grabbed Jordan by the shoulders and spun him around, lifting him off the ground with ease. Jordan’s legs flailed helplessly as Chase held him there, suspended in mid-air, his body completely at Chase’s mercy. With Jordan’s feet still dangling off the ground, his arms locked by Chase in his strong hold simultaneously, he felt the sensation of light, teasing taps between his legs and underneath his pants, right in the center below his groin and just underneath his privates. Chase was twiddling his balls, fondling them tauntingly like a delicate instrument.
“Let’s see you squirm now,” Chase whispered.
“Fuck you,” Jordan groaned through the utter humiliation.
Chase smirked, his eyes dark with amusement. “I like it when you fight,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable dominance. “But we both know how this ends.”
Jordan’s chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled against Chase’s hold. He kicked out wildly, trying to land a hit, but Chase only laughed, catching Jordan’s ankle mid-kick and using the momentum to twist him around again. Jordan’s body spun like a ragdoll, and Chase used the opportunity to stretch his legs out, forcing Jordan into an awkward, humiliating split.
Jordan yelped in pain and surprise, his muscles straining as Chase held him there, his grip firm and unyielding. The position was uncomfortable, his legs stretched painfully wide, but Chase seemed to enjoy every second of it. He leaned in close, his breath hot against Jordan’s ear as he whispered, “You’re flexible, aren’t you? I like that.”
Jordan’s face burned with humiliation, his breath hitching in his throat. He tried to kick again, but Chase caught his other ankle, holding him in place like he was nothing more than a plaything. Jordan struggled, his body trembling with the effort, but Chase was in complete control. He gave Jordan’s leg a firm tug, pulling him even further into the painful split, and Jordan gasped, his mind spinning with the intensity of it all.
“Stop fighting it,” Chase murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.
Chase knelt between Jordan’s open legs, the predatory grin never leaving his face. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Jordan’s inner thigh.
“Got an itch down there that needs scratching?” Chase teased, his voice low and mocking, sending a shiver down Jordan’s spine.
Without waiting for an answer, Chase nuzzled his head between Jordan’s legs, shaking it roughly, his skull roughly, almost painfully massaging against his balls underneath the pants. Chase’s laughter echoed over Jordan’s pained and frustrated groans.
He released one of Jordan’s legs and stood up, towering over him as Jordan lay on the ground, panting. But Chase wasn’t finished. He crouched down again, grabbing Jordan by the waistband of his pants and yanking him up into a seated position. Chase’s hands were firm on Jordan’s shoulders, holding him in place, his breath hot against the back of Jordan’s neck.
Without warning, Chase’s hand slid down Jordan’s back, tracing a line along his spine before grabbing a handful of his shirt and yanking it upward. Jordan shivered at the touch, his body reacting instinctively to the feeling of Chase’s fingers on his skin. But before he could process what was happening, Chase’s teeth grazed the nape of his neck, a quick, teasing bite that sent a jolt of heat rushing through Jordan’s body.
Jordan gasped, his mind reeling. He tried to pull away, but Chase held him firm, his hands roaming over Jordan’s body with an unsettling mix of precision and perversity. Chase’s fingers dug into Jordan’s sides, pinching him teasingly before moving lower, tracing the line of his waistband again.
Jordan tried to kick out, his body trembling with the effort, but Chase was too quick. He grabbed Jordan’s wrist and twisted it behind his back, pulling him up into a standing position before flipping him around effortlessly. Jordan barely had time to react before Chase shoved him up against the wall, pinning him in place with his body.
“Still think you can fight me?” Chase taunted, his voice low and mocking. He pressed his body against Jordan’s, his breath hot against Jordan’s ear as he whispered, “Or are you starting to enjoy this?”
Jordan’s body trembled beneath Chase’s touch, every nerve on edge as Chase continued to toy with him, teasing and dominating him with perverse glee.
Chase grabbed a handful of Jordan’s hair, pulling his head back just enough to expose his neck. His teeth grazed Jordan’s skin again, another quick, teasing bite that made Jordan’s breath hitch in his throat.
“You can keep trying to fight,” Chase murmured, his voice soft but laced with amusement. “But we both know how this ends.”
Thanks for reading pls vote or comment