Willy's master plan of execution for the day was deceptively simple:
Carefully select a specific combination of daily clothes for Tim that his stubborn pride would absolutely never want to wear in public.Force his tall frame to accompany him to the university campus and sit through every single boring lecture.Completely refuse to leave his physical side for a single running minute.
Unfortunately for the mastermind, this tactical operation crumbled into absolute failure from the very first step. It was honestly zero surprise, considering his memory had completely overlooked one vital, permanent rule: his devoted husband will gladly fulfill every single wish his heart formulates, regardless of how ridiculous it might appear.
Willy leaned against the wardrobe doors, tilting his chin up confidently. "Your mouth granted me absolute control over your punishment, Tim, so I am going to personally pick out your clothes for the campus today."
Tim didn't offer a single word of physical resistance; truth be told, the specific style of his daily attire held absolutely zero importance to his mind. He immediately nodded in smooth agreement, waiting for the choices.
Willy narrowed his eyes, a playful pout touching his lips. "You agreed to my terms far too easily, Grant. My heart is still technically exceptionally angry with you, and your brain holds zero knowledge regarding what strange garments I might choose out of pure revenge. Let me test your limits. If my hands picked out a bright silk dress for you to wear to the main building today, would your boots actually step into it?"
Tim let out a low, melodic chuckle, a brilliant smile softening his handsome features. To his mind, such superficial clothing standards held absolutely zero weight.
Tim stepped closer, looping his arms loosely around Willy's waist. "I will gladly put on whatever garment your hands choose to present, love. Wearing a stylish dress presents absolutely zero problem for my confidence, considering the reality that my hands have already donned such garments during my past overseas projects. Personally, my mind believes that clothes possess absolutely zero inherent gender boundaries. Everything within the fashion world shifts completely over the course of time. Centuries ago, high-standing men consistently wore elaborate robes and dresses as a symbol of status, then the global trends shifted and women systematically adopted the garments. Personally, my mind suspects the pendulum will swing right back around soon. But if your heart is genuinely searching for a specific aesthetic that my eyes truly despise, then I highly recommend selecting exceptionally bright, colorful clothes, because I absolutely hate wearing them."
Willy smirked triumphantly. "It is a verified fact that your wardrobe is completely populated by dark, midnight-colored fabrics. Excellent. In that case, I am going to step away from your closet and choose something directly from my own side of the wardrobe."
Willy dug through his neatly folded shelves until his hands unearthed a bright, vibrant yellow sweater. A brilliant grin lit his face as he marched back over, thrusting the fabric directly into Tim's hands. Tim didn't hesitate for a single microsecond; he simply unbuttoned his silk pajama shirt and slipped his broad shoulders smoothly into the bright yellow knit without a single word of complaint.
Willy tapped his chin, his eyes scanning the bright top. "Hold on, my brain just formulated an exceptionally brilliant vision to finalize this look."
He dashed back to the shelves, returning a moment later with a pair of sleek, tight black trousers.
Willy held them out, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Put these on immediately."
While Tim was smoothly changing into the black trousers, Willy turned toward the mirror to finalize his own preparations, completely refusing to let their domestic games cause him to be late for the morning sessions. As he pulled his own soft sweater over his head, he suddenly felt a pair of warm, powerful hands slip beneath the fabric, flattening securely against his bare stomach, gently caressing the skin. A split second later, Tim's cool lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss flat against the sensitive skin of his neck. Willy was completely trapped back against Tim's broad chest, holding absolutely zero avenue for escape. The truth was that his entire being had missed Tim's intoxicating kisses and warm touch so intensely over the past few suns that his logical mind completely forgot about the anger for a beautiful, fleeting moment. Tim's large hands and soft lips moved over his skin with pure, reverent gentleness. Willy found himself wishing this quiet morning microsecond would endure forever, but his memory suddenly recalled the official terms of the ledger.
Willy squirmed slightly, trying to project a firm tone. "Hey... what on earth do you think your hands are executing right now, Grant? Has your memory completely forgotten the reality that your body is actively being punished today?"
Tim chuckled against his skin, his teeth gently nipping his earlobe. "How can my mind forget, when my darling has deliberately dressed my physical frame up to look exactly like a bright yellow bumblebee? My gorgeous husband is as breathtaking as a summer flower, radiating an exceptionally sweet, intoxicating scent. That is precisely why my physical body is instinctively attracted to your coordinates. Ah... honestly, Willy, my entire being is completely incapable of surviving away from your side. My hands will gladly tear down empires for your sake, but I absolutely refuse to endure another day of physical distance."
Willy turned around inside the tight embrace, a playful smirk dancing in his eyes as he rested his hands flat against the yellow sweater. "Well, the terms of your sentence dictate that your boots are allowed to remain anchored to my side through every single hour of the day, Tim."
Tim's dark eyes lit up with pure, unadulterated happiness at the words.
Willy raised a single finger, tapping the tip of Tim's nose. "But... you are strictly, completely forbidden from physically touching my skin for the remainder of the day."
Tim let out a dramatic, suffering groan, his head dropping onto Willy's shoulder. "Wow. Now my mind fully realizes that your heart is planning to subject my body to absolute, brutal torture today."
Willy giggled softly, reaching up to gently pat Tim's head, looking at his mock-pouting expression. To the rest of the dangerous corporate world, Tim Grant was perceived as a terrifying, midnight-black cat capable of tearing a threat apart in the shadows; but to Willy's private eyes, he was merely an exceptionally cute, devoted puppy who constantly wagged his tail with pure joy the exact second his master stepped into the room.
Willy pinched his cheek playfully. "Now your brain will retain the lesson that you must never choose to abandon your master for multiple days ever again."
Tim huffed, trying to look imposing despite the bright yellow knit fabric covering his frame. "I am absolutely not a cute, defenseless puppy, Willy! Ordinary people on the streets are literally terrified to look my face in the eyes."
Willy smiled softly, his gaze melting with pure devotion. "I don't care a single shred about what ordinary people claim, Tim. To my heart, you will forever remain my cute, precious puppy, and my soul will absolutely never harbor fear toward your existence even if your character turns around tomorrow and transforms into a ferocious wolf or a roaring lion. Now, it is officially time for you to accept your destiny."
He gave his cheek a secondary, firm pinch.
Willy grabbed his backpack from the desk. "Time to march forward, sweet puppy. If your boots don't move swiftly, I am going to be completely late for my morning lecture."
Tim offered zero further arguments, quietly grabbing his keys and walking step-for-step with Willy toward the university campus. By the hour their boots hit the main corridor, the morning sessions had already formally commenced; the rest of their friends had already occupied their respective desks inside the lecture hall. They were the singular students running late today. Tim gently pushed the heavy oak door open, and they slipped into the back row as quietly as ghosts so as not to disrupt the professor's flow.
Al looked over from three seats down, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he took in Tim's bright yellow and black attire. He frantically scribbled on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk. "What on earth is that dangerous man executing inside an economics lecture?!"
Willy leaned over, whispering into Al's ear under his breath. "His physical presence is legally required to shadow my coordinates for every single hour of the day today. It is the official terms of his punishment."
As the hours dragged on, Tim found the academic environment to be completely and utterly boring. Since the explicit terms of his punishment strictly dictated that his hands were completely forbidden from operating his mobile device, his mind held absolutely zero avenues for distraction. Left with zero alternatives, he crossed his broad arms over his bright yellow sweater and slept peacefully through the entire academic lecture. Finally, the loud chime signaled the conclusion of the session, and the sea of students began systematically gathering their books to exit the hall.
As Willy was zipping his backpack, his ears caught Tim stepping forward, his voice suddenly shifting into a smooth, flawless stream of foreign words as he addressed the departing lecturer.
"Hola, profesor. Hace mucho que no nos conocemos. No sabía que enseñaba en esta universidad." (Hello, Professor. It's been a while since we met. I didn't know you taught at this university.)
The senior professor froze, turning around before a massive, respectful smile broke across his weathered face as he recognized Tim's frame. He quickly gripped Tim's hand in a warm, enthusiastic shake, responding in the same fluent language.
"Me alegra verte. Me enteré de que ahora estudiamos en nuestra universidad. Cuando tengas tiempo libre, necesito que me des algunos consejos para la empresa." (Nice to see you. I heard you're now studying at our university. When you have some free time, I need you to give me some advice for the company.)
Tim offered a smooth, diplomatic nod, his posture effortless. "Yo también me alegro de verte. Me pondré en contacto contigo en los próximos días." (I'm glad to see you too. I'll get in touch with you in the next few days.)
Tim offered a polite wave of goodbye to the academic, turning around to exit into the crowded courtyard with Willy anchored to his left side.
Willy stared at him, his mind completely blown by the exchange. "I held absolutely zero knowledge regarding the fact that your mouth could speak fluent Spanish, Tim. How on earth do your tracks even cross paths with my senior university professor?"
Tim shrugged casually, adjusting his backpack strap. "His international corporate firm was hired to design the architectural blueprints for one of my luxury resort hotels abroad last year. Personally, my mind holds fluent command over several foreign languages. An old teammate of mine systematically taught me Spanish during our traveling years."
A teammate? Willy thought, his chest tightening with a sudden wave of intense curiosity. How many more hidden chapters and unrolled secrets was Tim actively shielding from his knowledge?
Willy took a breath, trying to sound casual as they walked. "Back at the shooting range, Nora explicitly stated to the room that your past identity was exceptionally popular. What exactly did her mouth mean by that comment, Tim?"
Tim's footsteps slowed slightly, his gaze shifting down to the pavement as a sudden, heavy shadow crossed his handsome features. "Her deduction was correct, Willy. Once upon a time, my face was attached to an exceptionally famous public profile... but my existence completely vanished from the global grid immediately following a catastrophic accident. Personally, my mind holds absolutely zero desire to recount those details today. My subconscious still battles intense, vivid nightmares regarding that dark chapter."
Willy immediately closed his mouth, refusing to press for a single additional detail. He completely refused to let his own curiosity cause his husband to experience a single second of emotional pain or distress.
However, as they walked, Willy's analytical brain realized that Tim had already provided more than enough structural information to launch a secret investigation.
His mental ledger summarized the coordinates perfectly:
When Tim occupied that peak of global popularity, his identity was registered under an entirely different name and surname.His public profile completely evaporated immediately following a major accident, and his face had never been sighted on the global market since that day.
But one burning, logical query continued to torment Willy's thoughts: If his husband had truly been that globally famous, how on earth had a single student or professor on this massive campus not instantly recognized his facial features?
Tim had explicitly mentioned a "teammate," meaning he was absolutely not operating as a solitary figure during those legendary years. And because his background was backed by an immense mountain of wealth and elite status, there would inevitably be a massive archive of digital articles, media reports, and public information preserved across the internet archives.
Willy realized he simply required a strategic deep dive into the major international accident logs that had transpired over the past few recent years; if he mapped those coordinates, his hands would easily unearth the entire truth.
Slipping his hand into his pocket, Willy unlocked his phone, opening the exclusive group chat labeled "The Lovers' Support Club," and began frantically typing an operational directive to the team.
Willy:"How would the circle feel about pooling our collective intellect to help me untangle a massive, historic mystery at my apartment tonight?"
Al:"Count my assets in! What specific secret database are our minds attempting to crack open tonight, Willy?"
Seb:"I am down for the operation regardless of the variables! You guys know exceptionally well how much my brain loves a high-stakes investigation game."
Miles:"Let me guess... this hidden file is directly linked to Tim's secret history, correct?"
Willy:"Your deduction is entirely accurate, Miles."
Seb:"Hold on, will the bumblebee himself be occupying the apartment floor tonight? Or is the coast clear?"
Willy:"Do not let your mind worry about his presence. I will personally execute a strategy to clear him from the living room grid."
Since the circle had formally locked in their schedules to convene in the evening, the singular remaining task on Willy's agenda was to systematically nudge Tim into exiting the premises so their investigation could proceed without his sharp eyes monitoring the screen.
Willy cleared his throat, looking up at Tim with a sweet, innocent expression. "Hey, love... My friends are planning a small gathering at the apartment later this evening. It's been an exceptionally long time since our circle played games together, and they explicitly requested some private space for the core group..."
Tim stopped walking, a sharp, wickedly knowing smirk instantly pulling at the corners of his lips as his dark eyes locked onto Willy's face. "Ah, I see the strategic move you are executing, husband. And that is precisely the reason why your mind wants Logan and Ethan to accompany my boots outside tonight. Fine, I will hit their lines and arrange an outing... but since your choice has officially broken the terms of your morning promise, your body better prepare itself for a severe punishment tomorrow."
Willy blinked, completely caught off guard. "Wait... what specific promise did my mouth break?"
Tim leaned down, his voice a low, teasing vibration against Willy's ear. "The terms dictated that my presence was supposed to remain anchored to your side for every single hour of the day, love, yet now your own hands are actively engineering a move to evict me from our home. You have officially violated the treaty."
Willy let out a soft gasp, realizing with a wave of amusement that he had walked directly into his own tactical trap. His master plan had been completely doomed from the absolute start.
Willy rolled his eyes playfully. "Fine, Grant. What exactly does your wicked mind want? What will my official sentence look like?"
Tim's smirk turned entirely devious, his eyes scanning Willy's frame with a burning intensity.
Willy raised his hands defensively, a blush creeping up his neck. "Oh, please... your expression makes it crystal clear. My calendar is going to be completely wiped tomorrow to accommodate your demands, isn't it?"
Tim chuckled darkly, stepping back into a stride. "An interesting proposition, love. You spent the entire morning running away from my touch and enforcing strict boundaries, and now your mouth is openly offering me total control of your calendar tomorrow? Personally, my mind has just shifted its strategy. I am going to carefully evaluate my options tonight and deliver the terms of your sentence when I return."
Who on earth could have predicted that the entire power dynamic of their domestic game would shift so thoroughly over the course of a few short hours? Because they still possessed a tiny window of time, Tim and Willy returned to the quiet apartment together to prepare for the split evenings. Tim had already initiated contact with Logan and Ethan, and their lines had smoothly agreed to meet up at a designated city lounge.
Tim unbuttoned the yellow knit top, looking over at Willy. "Am I officially permitted to strip out of this bee uniform now, master?"
Willy laughed warmly, waving a hand dismissively. "As your heart desires, Grant."
Tim immediately bounded up the stairs to change his clothes into his preferred dark aesthetic. However, while his frame was occupying the upper suite, the apartment buzzer suddenly blared, and Willy opened the door to find Al and Seb standing on the welcome mat, completely bypassing the evening timeline.
Willy blinked in surprise, letting them into the hallway. "Why on earth are your boots hitting my floor so incredibly early, guys? Tim hasn't even exited the premises yet."
Seb grinned widely, holding up a massive canvas bag stuffed to the brim with corporate snacks and energy drinks. "My brain was burning with pure, unadulterated curiosity regarding this secret file, man, so I literally dragged Al out of his room and drove here immediately!"
They marched into the living room, dumping the chips and drinks onto the coffee table before collapsing onto the leather couch.
Seb rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Alright, spill the variables, Willy. Tell my brain every single clue your hands have scraped together so far."
Willy sat down on the armchair, systematically detailing every single piece of data he had extracted from the Spanish fluent professor to the mysterious global popularity and the historic accident. Seb's eyes were practically flashing with excitement; his mind was now a thousand times more desperate to crack open the digital vault. A few short minutes later, the door clicked open again, and Miles smoothly joined the assembly.
Miles tossed his car keys onto the counter, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me your mind started unrolling the search logs without my presence?"
Al groaned playfully from the cushions. "Blame Seb's hyperactive brain, Miles. His curiosity couldn't rest for a single microsecond, which is precisely why our feet are occupying this carpet so early."
Miles sat on the barstool, looking toward the hallway. "Do your channels hold any data regarding where the boys are planning to execute their meeting tonight? I pressed Logan for the coordinates before leaving the estate, but his mouth completely refused to share a single detail."
Seb shrugged. "I hold zero coordinates, man. Ethan merely transmitted a brief text message stating that Tim had hit his line and they were convening for an intense night out."
The entire room suddenly shifted their gaze, their eyes locking flat onto Willy.
Willy raised his hands in mock surrender. "Please, do not direct those demanding looks toward my face. Personally, my mind holds absolutely zero knowledge regarding their destination tonight."
At that exact microsecond, the quiet rhythm of the room was broken by the sound of deliberate footsteps echoing down the grand staircase. The group turned their heads as Tim stepped into the living room light. He had completely stripped away the yellow bumblebee look, now dressed exceptionally coolly for the dropping temperatures wearing a heavy, designer leather jacket over a dark knit shirt that perfectly accentuated his powerful frame.
Willy's protective instincts flared instantly; he stood up from the armchair, his eyes scanning Tim's outfit. "Tim, hold on... the atmospheric temperature is scheduled to drop abruptly later this evening and you are highly likely to catch a cold. At the very least, let your hands grab a heavy winter overcoat before stepping outside."
Tim offered a smooth, confident smirk, checking his watch. "I will absolutely not get cold, love. Besides, our vehicles are running late. Do not let your heart worry about our circle tonight; my hands will gladly take total care of Logan and Ethan. I wish your little assembly an exceptionally good evening... though my mind holds absolute certainty that your night won't match the level of fun our tracks are about to uncover."
Willy stepped into his path, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Where exactly are your boots traveling tonight, Tim?"
Tim leaned down, pressing a swift, scorching kiss flat against Willy's lips, a wicked glint dancing in his dark eyes. "Since your master plan explicitly dictated that you didn't desire our presence near this apartment tonight, our circle is simply going to board a ride far away from here to a destination where the climate is exceptionally warm and the entertainment is absolute."
With that final, cryptic declaration, Tim offered a smooth wave to the stunned living room and vanished out the front door, the heavy lock clicking shut behind his frame.
For the first few seconds, the assembly sat in absolute, stunned silence, their brains entirely powerless to process the coordinates of his statement. But a moment later, the hidden variables systematically clicked into place inside their minds, and their eyes widened in sudden panic.
Miles stood up from the barstool, his jaw dropping. "Wait... am I the singular individual in this room whose brain just concluded that those guys are actively planning to exit the country tonight?"
Seb scrambled up from the couch, his phone almost slipping from his fingers. "Holy hell, my brain just calculated the exact same variable! His mouth explicitly stated they were traveling far away to a coordinate where the climate is warm to uncover absolute entertainment!"
Al shook his head frantically, trying to maintain a shred of logic. "No, think about the timeline, guys. They couldn't possibly execute an international exit that easily. They held absolutely zero hours to map out flight plans or secure travel documents."
Seb waved his hands wildly. "Al, look at the target! It is completely impossible for ordinary citizens to plan an international flight this fast, but we are dealing with Tim Grant!"
Willy suddenly collapsed back into his chair, a look of absolute, horrified realization slamming into his face as his mind unlocked the ultimate truth. "Are your brains completely stupid right now?! Have your memories completely overlooked the foundational reality that Tim is a certified commercial pilot?! His father is a legendary former global ambassador. If their tracks required emergency visas or diplomatic clearances to cross a border, his family network could easily arrange those documents in a matter of minutes!"
The entire assembly froze, the absolute reality of the counter-prank hitting their minds like a tidal wave. Without wasting another microsecond, they scrambled from their seats, grabbing their jackets and phones as they sprinted toward the door to track down Tim's vehicle before his private jet could clear the tarmac.
Willy gripped his phone tight, his heart hammering against his ribs as he ran down the stairs. Is this the official sentence his mouth was teasing me about upstairs?! Did Tim literally just coordinate a mass revenge operation against our entire circle?! Because we chose to hide our investigation from his face, he literally just hijacked my own brothers and friends to launch a midnight international escape without us!