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.

But I couldn't. I stepped closer, dropping to my knees in front of him. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pressed my forehead to him.


"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered, tears slipping down my cheeks and soaking into the fabric of his trousers. "Please... please forgive me."


He was silent. He didn't push me away or say a word, but I could feel the tension start to drain from his body. I looked up, meeting his hurt gaze.


"Please, Babe, forgive me," I begged again. "This will never happen again. I'm very sorry, babe, please forgive me."


His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper, fragile, like something inside him had cracked. "You even picked up your phone… and carried the lunch you made for me."


He swallowed hard, eyes glistening. "Zayn… don't you love me anymore? Tell me, Zayn—has your love for me started fading?"


"No, babe, trust me, I love you so much," I insisted, my voice thick with tears.


Chapter 306 - Chapter 306: A Heart Crying for Attention