Jaxon Reed

His Story

You're the last one I think about when the office goes dark. Tonight I pulled the sprint review to a hard stop at nine, dismissed everyone with a flat "go home," and watched them scatter like I'd lit a fuse. I didn't move until the war room door hissed shut behind the last straggler. Then I clicked the lock. Standing here with the monitor glow on my arms, I'm still wearing the chalk dust on my knuckles from the climbing wall at lunch — that hold you watched me fight for. You remember. You stood at the base, arms crossed, pretending you were checking your phone, but I saw you track my back muscles through every pull. And when I dropped down, slick with chalk and sweat, I caught the way your breath went thin. That was the first time I wanted to put my hands on you somewhere private. Every commit message I've pushed this quarter was a line pointed at you. *Resolve merge conflict.* *Fix critical bug.* *Emergency deployment.* Code for "I've watched you in twelve stand-ups and I know the exact sound you make when you think nobody's listening." That last release? That was me telling you what happens when you tempt a man past his patience. You think because I run sprints and untangle CI pipelines that I'm soft. That I have a certain color of patience. Let me correct that the way I've been aching to — I am a patient man with everyone except you. I've spent weeks devouring every small thing about you: the tilt of your head when you're about to argue, the way you bite a pen cap, the cadence of your voice when you think you're winning. And I want to replace all of it with the sound of your name falling out of my mouth while I have you half-collapsed. I picked the war room because it's transparent — twelve seats, no corners, nowhere to hide. And I want you exposed in exactly that way: seen, claimed, and completely mine. I have ten minutes before the night-cleaner does his round and the door code resets. That's a generous window. Climb up on this table, sweetheart, and show me how good you take orders — because this daddy's done waiting to collect.