Part 11: The God in the House
There was no more pretending.
No more shame.
No more waiting.
Mia was gone, and with her went the last thread tying Aaron to the rules of the world outside.
Now, it was just the two of them.
Aaron and Eli.
Hunter and prey.
Master and muse.
But only one of them ever really held the leash.
The house changed first.
Eli no longer knocked before entering Aaron's room — their room. He didn't dress to please Mia anymore. He didn't dress much at all. Oversized sweatshirts, thigh-high socks, tiny cotton shorts. Sometimes just Aaron's scent on his skin.
He moved through the house like something worshipped.
Aaron didn't speak when he saw him. He just followed.
And Eli let him.
The world outside tried to creep in.
Neighbors knocked. A coworker stopped by, asking why Aaron hadn't returned texts.
Eli answered the door once.
Just once.
He wore a simple tank top and boxers. Hair tied up lazily. No smile. Just wide eyes, soft voice, bare thighs.
The man stammered. Apologized. Left quickly.
When Aaron returned, he saw the flushed look on Eli's face, the tremor in his breath.
"What did he want?" Aaron asked, jaw tight.
"Nothing important."
Aaron stepped close. "Did he look at you?"
Eli met his eyes. "Does it matter?"
Aaron pushed him against the counter.
And the answer was clear.
It did.
Later, Eli curled up on Aaron's lap on the couch, small and warm, sipping tea as Aaron stroked his thigh lazily beneath the blanket.
"Someone's going to notice eventually," Eli said.
Aaron didn't look away from the TV. "They won't say anything."
"And if they do?"
Aaron leaned down and whispered against his ear: "Then they don't come back."
Eli shivered.
Smiled.
And leaned closer.
The heat of summer came fast.
They rarely used the AC.
Eli liked the way Aaron sweat — how his muscles glistened, how his patience thinned. How he'd grab him, without warning, pin him to a wall, a doorframe, the kitchen counter, the shower glass.
Aaron became quieter.
More watchful.
He started walking Eli to the mailbox. Standing outside when Eli stretched on the patio. Sitting on the porch like a silent wolf, arms crossed, shirt off, eyes fixed on anyone who walked too close.
Eli never teased him for it.
Because he liked it.
He liked being wanted this much.
He liked being owned.
One night, Aaron came home later than usual.
He opened the door and found Eli asleep on the couch, curled up in his hoodie.
Aaron walked over. Knelt.
Watched.
Touched his cheek with the back of his hand.
"I don't know what I am anymore," he murmured. "But I know I can't let you go."
Eli didn't wake, but his lips curled into a smile in his sleep.
As if he'd heard it anyway.
[To Be Continued — In Part 12: A neighbor speaks out. Eli is spotted in public. Whispers begin. Aaron's possessiveness hardens into something dangerous. He begins reshaping the world around Eli — and maybe even Eli himself.]