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 looked at him and smiled, my chest still heaving from everything we'd just shared. We rested for a while, then went to shower together, warm water sliding over our skin as our fingers occasionally brushed.


Afterward, we slipped into bed. He pulled me close, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.


"Baby, can you swim with me tomorrow?" he asked.


I looked at him. "I'm not good at swimming. And you only asked for my morning, you never said I should take the whole day off work."


He gave me that charming little smirk. "You don't have to know how to swim. Besides, 


I haven't even touched the private pool in my suite for months. But since you're here, it would be perfect to swim together."


His voice softened, almost shy. "So, Mr. Smith… can you please take the whole day off tomorrow? I'd love to spend the entire day with you."


Chapter 51 - Chapter 51: Burns, Breakfast, and Belonging