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 stood there, numb. My body refused to move, my throat burned, yet no words escaped. I didn't even know how to react.


Just then, Liana came out, cheerful and unaware. "Good morning, bro!" she greeted warmly.


I forced a reply, "Morning," but the tightness in my voice betrayed me. She caught the look on my face and stopped, frowning. "Zayn, what happened? Why are you…?"


Before she could finish, I cut in quickly. "It's nothing to worry about." Then I turned to Nuala, forcing a smile I didn't feel. "I'll head back upstairs."


Upstairs, I sank onto the edge of my bed, running both hands through my hair. What did I do wrong this time? The question clawed at me, but I refused to let it consume me. I drew a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm, and picked up my phone.


Babe, what is wrong? Are you that busy that you left my message unread all since yesterday? I typed, then stared at the screen, waiting.


Chapter 137 - Chapter 137: The Distance Hurts More