Part 9: Yours in Every Room
The first time they went out together, it was to the store.
Just an errand. Harmless. Necessary.
But Eli dressed carefully — high-waisted jeans, soft grey tank top, no bra. He didn't wear makeup, didn't need it. His body did the talking now. Slim hips, a gentle curve at his waist, and that natural softness that always seemed effortless.
Aaron stood by the car, arms crossed, eyes dark.
"You're going out like that?"
Eli blinked. "Is it too much?"
Aaron walked over, grabbed his chin, and tilted his face up. Not gently.
"It's not for them," he said.
"It never was," Eli whispered.
Aaron kissed him. Right there in the driveway. Slow and rough. No one around — but if someone had been, he wouldn't have cared.
Inside the store, Aaron stayed close.
Too close.
His hand brushed Eli's lower back when they turned corners. His body pressed just a little too near in the aisles. When a cashier lingered with his eyes on Eli's lips, Aaron stepped forward — said nothing — but stared hard enough to make the man flinch and scan faster.
Eli noticed it all.
He didn't say a word.
But he smiled the whole way home.
Back at the house, Aaron pulled Eli onto his lap before he'd even taken his shoes off.
"You liked that," Aaron muttered, lips grazing Eli's ear.
"Liked what?"
"Making me want to drag you into a restroom and ruin you."
Eli shivered.
"I didn't make you feel that way," he whispered. "You're just finally letting it out."
Aaron gripped his thighs and pulled him closer. "You're mine."
Eli's voice was breathy. "Say it louder."
Aaron did.
With his hands. With his mouth. With his weight.
The groceries stayed unpacked for hours.
That night, Eli wore a sheer robe around the house — nothing beneath it. His steps were light, almost teasing, as he poured tea, folded a blanket, stretched on the couch like a cat in heat.
Aaron was a shadow behind him — every movement tracked, every sigh memorized.
And when Eli leaned forward to grab a book from the table, Aaron was there.
Not speaking.
Just grabbing him by the hips and pressing his body flush.
"You want to be seen like this?" he asked.
Eli didn't turn. "I want to be yours in every room."
Aaron breathed hard through his nose.
"You already are."
The doorbell rang the next morning.
Neither of them moved at first. Aaron was still half-naked in bed, Eli curled beside him, lazy fingers tracing scars on his chest.
Then the knock came again — firmer.
Aaron grunted and threw on a hoodie.
When he opened the door—
Mia was standing there.
Eyes bloodshot. Duffle in hand.
"Can I come in?"
Aaron stepped aside silently.
Eli appeared at the top of the stairs, still in Aaron's shirt, hair tousled, eyes unreadable.
Mia looked up at him.
Their gazes locked.
Something inside her collapsed — or cracked — but she didn't speak. Not yet.
She walked in. The air between them was thick. Charged. Silent.
Eli went back upstairs.
Aaron followed Mia to the kitchen, the weight of her arrival heavy in his chest — not like guilt, but like interruption.
"You staying long?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said.
Aaron opened the fridge.
But his hands were shaking.
Upstairs, Eli sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded, waiting.
The game wasn't over.
It was just starting a new round.
[To Be Continued — In Part 10: Mia begins testing boundaries. Eli plays the perfect innocent again — but Aaron's loyalty is no longer in question. When he's forced to choose, he does. And it's Eli who wears the crown.]