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.

He looked too small and too cute to refuse. I chuckled softly, gathered my strength, and scooped him up into my arms. 


He looked at me for a lingering second, his eyes soft with a silent plea, before leaning in to press a brief, tender kiss to my lips. 


Then, he buried his face in the crook of my neck as I carried him back up to our bedroom.


The moment we lay on the bed, Zayn clung to me as if I were the only warmth in the world. He didn't just lie down, he anchored himself to me, pressing close with a familiar need.


I could feel the rhythm of his breathing against my chest, steady yet urgent. He pressed into me, first with gentle, lingering touches that traced my form, and then, almost absentmindedly, his thumb began to circle over my nipple, slow and deliberate, drawing a shiver from me.


Chapter 340 - Chapter 340: A Taste of Holding Restraint