The Tyler Takedown pt. 2

Something strange is happening to Tyler in the aftermath of his encounter with Dr. Nielsen. For some reason, he just can’t get the handsome professor out of his very-straight, not-gay-at-all mind.

The sense of being unbalanced, of being unmoored and adrift, didn’t last long once Tyler was away from Robin. He’d been caught off-guard. That was all.

What Tyler needed to do was figure out just who this Dr. Nielsen was. If he could get to the bottom of that, he was sure he could find a weakness of some sort. All he needed to do was even the playing field.

Tyler tightened his grip on the duo-tang folder that Robin had given him. The cardboard crumpled under his fingers. It was strangely satisfying.

There was a part of Tyler that was concerned about Dr. Nielsen. No one had dared treat him like that before. And without even the slightest hint of fear, at that. Whatever he thought about Robin, he knew that his enemy wasn’t to be trifled with.

In a way, Tyler found it electrifying. He was faced with an enemy that he couldn’t just bully into submission. He couldn’t just say a word to his friends in high places to get rid of the nuisance. No. He had to play this game move for move with Dr. Nielsen and only the better man would come out on top.

Tyler smirked as he walked into his next class half an hour late. The professor for the course looked ticked for half a second before realizing who had just walked into his lecture hall.

God, Tyler thought to himself. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing the way these pathetic excuses for adults cower whenever he was involved.

One way or another, Tyler was going to see that expression on Robin’s face. Since he and Dr. Nielsen were in a contest that the better man would win, Tyler was the only real choice for the victor.

It didn’t matter how much power Robin wielded at the university. He wasn’t untouchable like Tyler was. Once he was through with the professor, Dr. Nielsen would be on hands and knees kissing his toes and begging for forgiveness.

Tyler walked up to the back of the lecture hall and sat down, placing the duo-tang folder on top of the desk in front of him. Like hell, he was going to do this ‘make-up’ assignment.

The solution to failing grade that Dr. Nielsen had given Tyler was pretty simple. Tyler just needed to get rid of Dr. Nielsen, and he was confident that he had the resources and the connections to make it happen.

Tyler covered his mouth with the top of the folder as he grinned. Robin had no idea who he was messing with. Tyler was going to make sure that he obliterated the professor so thoroughly no one would even remember his name.

Satisfied with himself, Tyler took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. Yeah. He definitely wasn’t going to lose. There wasn’t a chance of that happening. He was Tyler-motherfucking-Kingston.

As he was about to set the folder down on the desk, the hairs at the back of Tyler’s neck prickled up. Heat rushed into his cheeks and blossomed across his chest.

Robin’s scent lingered on the folder. It was faint and diffuse but it was unmistakable. Tyler sniffed the air. There it was. The slightest musk and the faint citrusy hint of lime. Before he realized what he was doing, he had already traced his nose along the top edge of the folder, breathing the not-entirely-unpleasant scent into his lungs.

The image of Robin standing so close leaped unbidden into Tyler’s mind. His professor had been so close. They had been mere inches apart. He could even feel the phantom of Robin’s heat on his skin, the pressure of Robin’s splayed fingers pressing the folder against his chest.

Tyler licked his lips. The professor had been so close. So tantalizingly close.

All it would have taken was a single step forward and their bodies would have been pressed flush together. Tyler would have felt the warmth of Robin’s skin against his. He could have leaned down, cupped Robin’s chin with his thumb and index finger and kiss—!

Tyler’s eyes shot open. "What the fuck?" he muttered, under his breath, having caught himself at the tail end of a quiet moan.

What the fuck?

Tyler’s heart was pounding in his chest. He’d fucking moaned in class. To say nothing of the half-erection that he was sporting in his sweatpants.

What the actual fuck was that?

Trying to come up with a rational explanation was an exercise in futility. There wasn’t one. Not that Tyler could think of. He couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around it.

As hard as Tyler tried to shut it out of his mind and have nothing to do with it, he could remember every excruciating detail of that last encounter with Robin, down to the way that Robin’s eyes seemed to glimmer in the light.

Tyler never paid such close attention to people. He knew faces well enough, remembered names. And yet, for some reason, he could clearly picture, in perfect, vivid clarity, every single line on Robin’s face. The way that Robin’s lips glistened and the way that they curled into a smile.


Not even the hottest girls he’d fucked in his life had left half as good an impression on Tyler. Even now, as he imagined the way that Robin spoke in that cool, unflappable, proper British accent of his, Tyler could feel a chill run down his spine.

He was so perturbed by what was happening to him that Tyler forgot about the moan he’d let out entirely. It wasn’t until he noticed people were staring that he realized he’d been loud enough to be audible.

Tyler glared at the other students. "The fuck you looking at?" he growled, trying to claw back some of that arrogant bravado that he was known for.

It seemed to work, but Tyler wasn’t sure. God. His heart was hammering in his chest.

The sooner Tyler got Robin out of his life, the better.


It was so hot.

Tyler felt like he was going to die.

Whoever it was that had turned the gym’s thermostat up to fucking Death Valley had to be fired. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

In a way, though, Tyler was grateful for the heat. It made the workout all the more intense, and it was something else to focus on instead of whatever the hell was going on inside of his head.

There was nothing like a good workout to clear the mind, Tyler had found. Well, it had been true, until today.

Shaking his head, Tyler pushed the thoughts to the side. Right now, all he had to worry about was finishing his workout without keeling over.

Fuck, Tyler groaned, powering through another set of reps. Sweat dripped from his forehead. His compression tank was completely drenched, clinging to every chiseled bevel of his muscular body.

Even though Tyler was sweating like a pig, the grime couldn’t possibly hope to cover up the jewel shining underneath. He was well aware he’d caught the attention of many of the female gym-goers, and some of the male ones too.

For once, Tyler had no interest in striking up a conversation. It was weird. He was never this laser-focused when working out.

Apart from the strange Zen-state that he’d somehow managed to accomplish, Tyler was also lifting more weight than he usually did. He was happy about it, but after plateauing for a couple of months it was really surprising to make progress out of nowhere.

well, it wasn’t exactly out of nowhere, Tyler supposed. He had a lot of aggression that he wanted to get out. As powerful a man as his dad was, he didn’t think he could get out of prison if he murdered a particular chemistry professor that had become something of the main character in his thoughts of late.

With a grunt, Tyler set the weights down and rolled his shoulders. He basked in the pleasant burn he could feel in his muscles for a moment.

Fuck. It felt so fucking good to finish a workout.

Tyler grabbed his hand towel off the bench and wiped the sweat off his face. Even his shorts were fucking soaked. He needed to get away from this heat, and fast.

Snatching his water bottle from the bench, Tyler slung the towel over his shoulder and made his way to one of the nearby refilling stations. Some guy was standing in front of it, but that didn’t really matter to Tyler. He unscrewed the top off his water bottle, walked up to the refilling station, and shoved the guy out of the way.

"Hey, man, what the fuck do you think you’re—O-oh…uh…S-sorry, Tyler. I-I didn’t know it was you," the guy stammered.

Tyler didn’t even give the guy the grace of a response. He smirked to himself. He still had it, and he’d be damned if he was going to let it go because of some third-rate piece of shit like Robin.

Without any regard for gym etiquette, Tyler stood in front of the refilling station, blocking it, as he gulped water out of his water bottle.

It tasted awful, which Tyler figured he should have expected since it was tap water. His dad donated millions to the university every year and yet the cheap fucks running the campus gym couldn’t be bothered to get a proper filtration system in. At least the water was cold, so that was something.

As he walked to the locker room, Tyler wondered whether Robin worked out. He hadn’t looked the type, but one of Tyler’s friends in high school was a nerdy-looking guy who was actually jacked as shit so he couldn’t say for sure.

Robin had cut quite the figure in his suit. He’d filled it out quite nicely, too.

Now that Tyler thought about it, the suit had to have been tailored since it settled on Robin’s shoulders in just the right way to accentuate the shape of his body.

Tyler laughed. It was almost too ludicrous to believe that a university professor would have a taste for bespoke clothing, but Tyler was never wrong when it came to these things. Even if begrudging, he had to give a little respect for the man’s taste.

Designer label aside, Robin fit his clothes so well that not only did they have to be tailored, but he also had to have had a pretty good foundation for the tailor to build off of, too. That kind of body only came from hard work.

Shaking his head, Tyler chuckled. Robin probably looked ridiculous whenever he went to the gym. The guy was so fucking old-fashioned he probably wore a full tracksuit while working out. Tyler could already imagine it.

Robin walked into the gym. He had his gym bag slung over his shoulder, wearing a compression tank and compression shorts. He stopped a few times between the door and the counter, making small-talk with a couple of students that he seemed to recognize.

The receptionist said hi to Robin. It was another few minutes spent talking to someone who didn’t really matter. No one cared how the guy’s day behind the counter was. Tyler just couldn’t understand why Robin wasted so much time on the plebs.

Robin wasn’t bulky. He had more of a swimmer’s physique, or maybe it was more of a runner’s. He didn’t look like the type to be doing heavy weight training.

The first place Robin headed to was the free weights. He’d take them off the rack and go through his sets while chatting with the people around him. It was fucking irritating.

Tyler licked his lips as Robin worked up a sweat. If Robin didn’t look so good with his sculpted muscles bulging in that compression top of his, Tyler would have found his incessant need to be pleasant to the people around him intolerable.

The only real consolation of going to the gym with Robin was that Tyler got to watch Robin’s tight ass in those compression shorts. They hugged every curve of Robin’s body in the most delicious way. It took every ounce of Tyler’s willpower not to drool at the sight.

Equally impressive was the front half. Robin didn’t have the biggest muscles, but what he did have looked like it had been cut from a block of granite. His figure was perfect and the V at his waist looked so fucking delicious that it just sucked Tyler’s gaze in and led it down toward the ample round bulge nestled right between those tight, sculpted thighs.

It looked so fucking delicious and it was just there. Right there. All Tyler had to do was reach out and he would touch—


Tyler jolted out of the fantasy with a start.

What the fuck?

Tyler’s heart thumped in his chest. He could practically feel it hammering at his ribcage.

What the fuck?

The sound of blood pounding in Tyler’s ear made it nigh-impossible to hear his own thoughts. He felt like he was drowning—like he couldn’t get enough air.

Jesus Christ. What’s happening to me?

Tyler would have said he was numb with shock at the sick, twisted fantasy that had just crossed his mind, but he wasn’t. He was hot. His chest was tingling. His cheeks felt like they were about to burst into flame.

Worst of all, Tyler was rock-fucking-hard and he couldn’t get the image of Robin with a tight muscular ass clad in form-fitting compression shorts out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

Tyler looked around. He was in the locker room. He didn’t even remember coming inside. He had no way to know how long he’d been standing there, staring at his locker, fantasizing about the professor he hated.

Judging by the look on the guy next to him’s face, Tyler had been there a while.

Tyler was fucking spooked but he tried his best not to show it. A cold shower would take care of the hard-on but that was the least of his concerns. What he really needed was to get rid of that damn professor as soon as humanly possible.

Tyler was wrong. He rarely was, but this was one of those occasions.

The cold shower hadn’t helped.

Tyler was freezing his fucking balls off and yet his cock refused to go down. The only reason no one was saying anything was that he was Tyler-fucking-Kingston and no one wanted to get accused of peeping.

There was a simple explanation for why Tyler’s cock refused to go down, and it was a single image that he just couldn’t get out of his head.

Tyler had tried everything to push the intrusive thought away, but it just kept coming back. He’d tried thinking of tits and pussy, but that hadn’t worked. Then, he’d tried to think of old, sagging grandmothers and dead puppies and it still didn’t work.

No matter what he did, Tyler just couldn’t get his erection to go down because he couldn’t get rid of the image of Robin, naked under the shower, handing him a loofah and asking him to scrub his back.

Tyler banged his forehead against the shower wall once before taking a deep breath. He had to suck it up. He had to own it. He could freak out all he wanted once he was back at his place, but not in front of all these people. He stormed off, wrapping his towel around his waist, pretending to not care about the huge tent leading his way.

Wordlessly, and with an aggression that dared anyone to comment, Tyler dressed. He stuffed his cock back into his pants and left.

As he was walking to his car, Tyler fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed his one nerd friend from high school. The jacked one. "Hey, Mickey. Please tell me you found something on that fucker," he said.

"Must be serious if you’re saying please," came the response from the other end of the line.

Tyler didn’t have the energy to come up with a witty response.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Mickey continued. "Well…uh…I did find a lot on the guy. The problem is, you’re probably not going to like it."

Tyler tried not to ask himself how the day could get any worse. He didn’t want to jinx it. "Alright," he sighed, as got into his car. "Lay it on me."

The day got worse, and Tyler hadn’t even thought it possibly could.

Tyler’s phone had been tossed haphazardly on his bed. Mickey was still talking to him through it, on speaker mode, while he paced. "So he wasn’t bluffing?" Tyler said.

"Nope," said Mickey. "Don’t think he was. I think he really could triple your dad’s donation and think nothing of it."

Six years ago, hardly anyone would have heard of Hierarch Industries, but then it exploded into the public scene from out of nowhere. It had been the biggest and fastest-growing company back then, and it had shown no signs of stopping in the years since.

Most people probably knew that Hierarch Industries was a pretty successful company, but Tyler wasn’t most people. He was aware of the weight that the name carried. The CEO and founder of Hierarch Industries, Thomas Crane, was slated to overtake the world’s richest person to become the first trillionaire in the next few years.

If what Mickey found was right, then Tyler was fighting an uphill battle. It was little wonder that Robin could speak to him with such impunity.

Surrender wasn’t in Tyler’s vocabulary, though. He ran his fingers through his hair as he wracked his brain for answers. "Wait," he said, eyes widening. Mickey had been telling him about Robin’s accomplishments but he’d tuned them out because he’d thought they were worthless to him, but he was pretty sure he’d heard something he could use. "Tell me about that thing he did."

"The research that he—"

"No. No! The other thing. He goes around speaking at universities about something," said Tyler, mind racing at the possibilities. If he was right, and if he had actually heard what he thought he’d heard, then maybe he could still find a way to come out on top.

"Oh. He was given an award by GLAAD for going around to universities and high schools talking about what it was like for him, growing up gay," said Mickey.

"Yes! That’s it!" Tyler laughed. Robin was going down.

"Ty… I can practically hear the gears in your head turning. Don’t do anything stupid," said Mickey. "You know how secretive Hierarch Industries is. You don’t know if this guy has something up his sleeve."

"Who cares?" said Tyler. "Not even Hierarch Industries is above the fucking law."

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