Crossing Lines Chapter 37

**Aiden**

This wasn’t how I anticipated the day would end.

With a brutal training session? Absolutely.

With an argument? Of course.

Some kind of punishment? No doubt.

Me apologizing, ashamed out of my mind, and two seconds from taking him home?

… One in a hundred, but possible. I’m not perfect.

But climbing into bed with Noah, stripped of every defense I had left, about to devour him whole—aching to please *him*?

That hadn’t been on the table.

Yet here I was.

Hovering over him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the flush in his cheeks, the flicker of hesitation in his eyes—hesitation he’d earned the right to feel. He wasn’t here by accident. He wasn’t here because I lost control.

He was here because he stood his ground.

Because when every part of me tried to push him away, he stayed.

*This wasn’t about guilt.*

*It wasn’t some attempt at redemption.*

He needed to hear that.

Hell, *I* needed to hear it.

"This isn't a consolation prize," I murmured, brushing a kiss just above his navel. His stomach tightened under my lips, a soft, startled gasp escaping him. "And it’s not forgiveness."

I kissed a little higher—slow, teasing. Just a taste of skin. He whimpered as his fingers dug lightly into my shoulder. I took his hand in mine, kissing his fingers gently and placing it back on the bed. “Hands to your side.” I muttered, lowering my head to his waist, breathing over his cooled skin.

“This,” I said, between kisses along his ribs, “is a reward.”

He arched slightly beneath me, hands fisting the sheets.

“For not giving in when your friends pushed. For not drinking. For not letting them drag you into something you knew would disappoint me.” I paused, lips ghosting just below his nipple. “And most importantly…” I flicked my tongue, just once.

Noah moaned—low and desperate.

“…for daring to *ask* for what you wanted.”

His whole body trembled under my mouth. Each breath came shallow, frantic. He was unraveling, and I hadn’t even *touched* him properly yet.

I was going to ruin him.

*But only because he asked me to.*

I kissed back down the slope of his ribs, circling one nipple with my tongue before closing my mouth around it and sucking, slow and deep. He cried out—just a little sound, broken at the edges—and his hand flew toward my hair.

I caught it mid-air without looking.

“Hands at your sides,” I murmured, mouth still brushing his chest. “That’s the last time I’ll remind you.”

He froze. Then nodded.

I rewarded him with a soft bite, then sucked again—harder. His back arched off the mattress, hips twitching as another whimper escaped him. I kissed my way across his chest, lavishing the other side, dragging the sharp edge of my teeth over his skin just to feel the way he gasped.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Aiden…”

I didn’t answer right away. Just held his gaze.

God, I loved the sound of my name from his lips—raw, needy, trembling.

But rules were rules. And reward or not… breaking them was still punishable.

I leaned in, pressed a kiss just under his collarbone, then brushed my mouth up to his ear.

“One,” I whispered.

His whole body jerked. “Sir—please, I’m sorry, I didn’t—I just—”

“Shhh,” I hushed him, brushing a kiss over his lips before pulling back just enough to watch him squirm. “Quiet, Noah.”

I trailed a finger down the center of his chest, slow and deliberate.

“Punishment doesn’t cancel reward,” I murmured. “So relax… and enjoy.”

Then, I kept moving—lowering my mouth to his shoulder, my tongue tracing the line where muscle met neck, my breath hot against his skin. As he reached for me again, I bit down on the curve of his neck.

Hard.

He *yelped*—but I was already kissing the spot better, tongue flicking over the mark, mouth trailing up to his throat and along his jaw. His breathing hitched as I reached his ear.

I sucked his earlobe into my mouth, teasing it between my teeth, then whispered:

“You wanted this…”

A sound escaped him—half gasp, half groan—as I hovered over his mouth. Close enough for him to feel my breath. Close enough to tempt.

He leaned up, desperate, but I pulled back.

“No,” I said, smirking. “Not yet.”

He stared up at me, eyes wide, pupils blown, and for one perfect second, I saw it—that helpless hunger, that ache for surrender.

I reached for his wrists again, gently but with intent, sliding them above his head and pinning them to the mattress with one hand. He didn’t fight it. Not really. He trembled, uncertain—but didn’t resist.

I kissed up his arm. Slow. Worshipful. Then—quickly—I undid my belt.

His breath caught. His eyes flicked to mine, searching.

I didn’t speak. I wrapped the leather around his wrists, threading the end through the buckle, tightening until he gasped. One hard tug. Secure. Then I clipped the strap to the headboard with a soft, satisfying click.

Now he couldn’t move his arms.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Sir—wait, is this—”

“Shhh.” I brushed my mouth over his sternum. “You're doing so well.”

I slid off the bed and crossed the room, pulling open the small chest in the closet. His eyes followed me—nervous now, trembling anticipation in every breath.

He tried to lift his arms. Couldn't. His thighs twitched.

This was our first bondage session, and my heart was pounding. The sight of him, struggling, trembling with anticipation and discomfort, yet submitting to my will, trusting me in his vulnerability, made my cock ache with need. But tonight wasn’t about me. Not in this way, at least. Tonight was all about him.

I brought the leather straps back slowly, deliberately, letting him see every inch of them.

“What are those…?” he asked, voice thinner now.

“Something special,” I said, with a smirk. “You’ll love them.”

He didn’t reply. But he didn’t ask me to stop.

I took his right ankle first, fastening the leather snug but careful, then clipped it to the small hook on the side of the bed frame. He gasped—half shock, half thrill. I did the same with his left, spreading his legs wide and securing them until he was utterly open and utterly mine.

Then I stood there for a second—just looking.

Noah. Naked. Flushed. Breathing like he’d run a marathon, stretched out, bound tight and helpless beneath me.

God, he was beautiful.

I reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the last piece.

He stared at it—wide-eyed. “A blindfold?”

I nodded. “Just trust me.”

He swallowed hard. “I—I do.”

I kissed him, one slow kiss to the center of his chest, and then slid the blindfold over his eyes.

Darkness claimed him.

And I smiled.