They say the body has memory.

I didn’t believe that until I started waking up soaked in sweat and c*m, my heart racing, my fingers trembling, my lips parted as if I’d been whispering his name in sleep.

But I never even knew his real name.

I remember his voice though, how it curled around me like smoke, soft and deep, commanding yet kind, dark and dangerous.

He never touched me. Never laid a hand on me. But I came so hard, I cried.

Now, every night, I crave it. That voice. That whisper that made my knees weak. That sin I never thought I’d want.

I thought I was straight. Now, I’m not even sure I’m sane.

And I think I’d ruin myself just to hear it again.

For 25 years, Zayn lived in a world of straight expectations, dating girls, chasing pleasure that always ended in silence and frustration. Sex was a routine, not release. Until one bored night, chasing a thrill, he said yes to something different.

A man in a club offered him more than money, he offered a secret, a night of satisfaction like he’d never known. But when Zayn entered that hotel room, he didn’t expect him, the rich, cold, dangerously alluring heir of a conservative empire, whose father publicly condemns everything he hides in the dark.

What started as a one-night experiment turned into a dangerous addiction. Without a single touch, Zayn was broken open, undone, and made to scream, cry, and beg, only through sound.

Now, even back home, Zayn trembles when he hears his voice in dreams, in memory, in madness. His sheets are always wet. His nights are restless. His body wants more.

And the worst part?

He's starting to want him, too.


18+ WARNING 
This story contains explicit male-male content, intense erotic scenes, and psychological seduction.
If you're not ready for a world where a voice can break you, proceed cautiously.

Read at your discretion.

I woke early, around 5:42 a.m., feeling remarkably better, stronger than I had any right to be after such an intense night and short rest. The room was bathed in the soft, gray light of dawn. Sometime during the night, my cock had finally slipped out of him.


Now, my energy was roaring back. I felt restored, capable of going for hours. I looked at Zayn, sleeping soundly beside me, his breathing slow and even. An immediate, selfish thought struck me: Is it proper for me to wake him up?


I gazed at his bare back, the sight of him still devastatingly beautiful. The curve of his waist, the line of his spine, made the desire flare up all over again, a powerful urge to slide inside him once more. But no. He needed his rest. I had promised him gentleness and care.


Instead, I reached out a cautious hand and gently brushed a stray curl of hair from his nape.


"Babe," I whispered, the sound barely loud.


Chapter 281 - Chapter 281: Our Forever, Our Rules