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 watched every second, every movement, until the girl's car drove out of sight. My chest felt tight, a slow burn rising from somewhere deep and uncertain.


Earlier, I had asked my driver to stop by Zayn's restaurant. I thought maybe he was working overtime, maybe too busy to pick up his phone. But when I got there, one of his staff members looked at me with confusion and said, "He didn't come in at all today."


Seeing him with that girl stirred questions in my mind, questions I didn't want to ask, questions I didn't want to believe. I stepped forward, walked to his door, and knocked.


It didn't take long before he opened it. His expression flickered with surprise.


"Evric…" he said quietly, as if unsure whether to smile or question my presence.


He moved aside, letting me in without hesitation. I stepped in, heart tight in my chest.


I asked casually, "Your friend… is he home?"


Zayn shook his head. "No, he's not around today."


Chapter 38 - Chapter 38: The Ache I Couldn't Hide with Zayn