Noah
I woke up earlier than I ever had on a Sunday, which was saying a lot
considering how late Aiden had pushed me the night before. For once,
it wasn’t nightmares or nerves pulling me awake–it was him. His arm
was heavy around me, his chest pressed against my back, and his
morning wood was impossible to ignore, digging into me like a secret
I wasn’t supposed to notice. Except I did. I noticed everything when it
came to him.
And when I whispered a half–question, half–plea into the still–dark
morning, he gave me a sleepy little hum that sounded a lot like
permission. So, yeah. I sucked him off right then and there. No
blindfold. No cuffs. Just me, wanting to please him before the sun
even bothered to rise.
When his cock swelled, shooting his release into my throat and filling
my mouth with his morning glory, he pulled me back against him,
kissed my forehead like I was something worth keeping, and smiled in that quiet, satisfied way that made my chest ache. “Good boy,” he panted, before adding, “I’ve got a surprise for today.”
A surprise.
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For a second, my brain twisted that into reward, like this was some
kind of acknowledgment for last night, for holding, for obeying, for
not breaking even when everything in me had begged to.
And, God, I needed that reward like I needed air right then… But then
I remembered the way he’d shut me down when I said I might not
care if people knew about us. How he’d told me it was foolish talk,
how he’d made it clear that lines existed for a reason.
So maybe this wasn’t a reward at all.
“Get dressed after breakfast,” he said casually, like it was no big deal.
But suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. The word “surprise” had sounded good
at first–now it felt more like a test.
Or a trap.
And the worst part? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pass it or fail it.
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I followed him out of the house with a knot in my stomach that only
got tighter with every step.
“Don’t look like I’m dragging you to the gallows,” he said, glancing at
me as we got in the car. His voice was calm, teasing, but it didn’t
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settle me at all.
“I’m not,” I lied. My palms were already sweating.
We stopped outside a narrow shopfront, nothing fancy–just a door
painted black with a neon sign buzzing faintly above it. Aiden parked
outside as he pushed the door open without hesitation. I followed,
stiff, into the sharp scent of alcohol wipes and metal.
That’s when my stomach dropped.
“You… you’re kidding.”
The flash of silver tools, needles, gloves, the clean sting in the air–I
knew exactly where we were. A piercing studio.
Aiden’s hand landed heavy on my shoulder, grounding me. “Relax.
You’ll live.”
“No, Sir,” I blurted, heart hammering, “I mean… maybe we don’t have
to–I mean, that’s kinda visible, right?”
“Shh.” He squeezed once, and that was the end of my protest. My
throat bobbed around words I couldn’t finish. “I thought you didn’t
mind others knowing….”
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The piercer came out from the back–broad, tattooed, all ink and easy
confidence. He grinned when he saw Aiden. “Good morning,
handsome!” He gave him a very enthusiastic hug and a kiss on the
cheek.”
“Good morning, Sebastian! It’s good to see you again.” Aiden
responded with a big smile before standing next to me.
“So, who do we have here?” Sebastian asked, looking me up and down
with an exaggerated gasp of approval. “He’s gorgeous! Your new
boy?”
I flushed hot at the word, but Aiden didn’t correct him. He just said,
“We’re here for a little decoration.”
“Nice… What do you have in mind? His tongue? Belly? Ohhh… maybe
a Prince Albert?” He almost clapped at the thought of whatever that
was.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
