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.

After telling him to wait, I made my way downstairs and called security, giving the order to let him in.


When he finally pulled up and stepped out of his car, seeing him again shattered every thought I had rehearsed. I wanted him. I just didn't know how much yet.


He sat down, silently watching me for a while before finally speaking.


"I'm sorry... about this morning," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. 


I looked at him, but said nothing. He went on.


"Everything I said. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I wasn't trying to hurt you."


I nodded. "It's okay… I'm not thinking too much about it anymore."


Looking at Zayn now, I knew exactly why he was here. It wasn't just to say sorry. He was addicted, not just to my voice, but to my control, my dominance. He came for sex. And I hated how obvious it was, written all over his face.


Then he turned to me, his voice quiet but certain.


Chapter 27 - Chapter 27: To Feel Him, To Keep Him