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.

He let out a soft sigh. "The girl you saw with me."


Zayn's eyes lingered on mine. "Why do you always do this?" he whispered. "Why do you have this habit of holding all your pain inside like it doesn't matter?"


My throat tightened, the ache in my chest growing worse than the one between my legs.


I murmured, my voice low. "What if I say it... and you end up walking away from me? What if you think I'm being too much… or that you never loved me to begin with?"


My voice trembled. I couldn't look at him, I just stared at my hands, afraid of how exposed I felt.


Zayn watched me in silence. There was no judgment in his eyes, but I still felt raw under his gaze.


"I've never been this scared of losing someone before," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Then I finally looked at him. "I love you, Zayn. I really, truly love you."


Chapter 39 - Chapter 39: The Way You Moan My Name, Evric