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 walked closer, my breathing shallow. Zayn must have caught my scent or felt the tension in the air. He slowly raised his head. His eyes widened when they met mine, and his voice came out as a shaken gasp. He didn't know whether to call me Babe or Evric.


He wanted to speak, to explain, to lie, or perhaps to simply apologize, but I cut him off, my voice dangerously calm. "Should I wait for you, or not?"


Zayn was silent for a full minute, his gaze desperately trying to read my expression, searching for the anger or the heartbreak I was working so hard to conceal.


"I was about to dress up and go and meet my friends," he finally said, his voice regaining a fraction of its composure.


"Okay," I replied, the word flat. "Are you still going there? I can drop you off and come back to pick you up later." I was trying so hard to act like everything was normal, like the woman in his shirt and the early shower meant nothing.


Chapter 196 - Chapter 196: No Way I Will Ever Do That