Crossing Lines Chapter 47

**Noah**

For someone who’d been playing with fire all month—and weirdly dying to touch and taste another man’s junk—it took me a hot minute to internalize the fact that I was actually about to suck Aiden’s cock.

I took the task at hand—*at hand*, classic pun—nice and slow. So slow, I half expected him to grab my head and fuck my mouth until I gagged.

But he didn’t.

Instead, I caught the way his chest rose, tight and deliberate, as I dragged my tongue from his balls all the way up his shaft—tracing the thick vein and circling the head with deliberate care. The second I wrapped my lips around the glans, twirling my tongue and sucking gently, he bucked just slightly, hips twitching with restraint. He could’ve wrecked my throat in one thrust—and part of me hoped he would—but this was supposed to be a reward, not a punishment. So he held back. Fists clenched. Muscles coiled.

I shifted up on my knees, taking him deeper, testing how much I could manage, even though we both knew I could probably take it all. And damn, I wanted to.

His hand found my jaw, thumb stroking over my throat like he owned it—which, I guess, he kind of did.

“That’s it, baby boy… Relax your throat. You can do this,” he coaxed, voice like gravel and sin. “Good boy… Just let me in.”

Fuck. I moaned around him, just from *that*—his voice, his praise, the way he called me his. He throbbed against my tongue in response, and I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks as I buried him deeper. His balls tapped my chin with every pass. I couldn’t tell who was more turned on—me or him.

“Fuuuck, Noah… That’s it. You’re doing so good—”

His hand fisted tighter in my hair, hips twitching, and I glanced up with pleading eyes, reminding him—*he promised.*

“You want to stroke yourself now, Noah?” He asked instantly, catching on.

I nodded so hard I almost lost him. His grip tightened, keeping me in place.

“I didn’t say stop.” His voice was dark now. Dangerous. “You’re doing beautifully, baby boy. Keep sucking me… and touch yourself while you do.”

He guided the rhythm of my head, setting the pace with those perfect rolls of his hips. I sucked, stroked, and moaned around him like my life depended on it. The sounds echoing off the walls were obscene—and so fucking hot I could’ve come untouched.

But the moment I wrapped my fist around my cock and moved in sync with his thrusts, I felt myself spiraling. Harder. Faster.

Aiden groaned, his whole body tightening as he pulsed in my mouth.

“Fuck, Noah—oh fuck…”

I swallowed him down, his release filling my throat. I licked him clean, tongue gliding over his softening length, savoring every drop like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.

He collapsed against the couch, chest heaving.

“That was incredible, baby boy. Now sit in front of me… and let me see how you work that gorgeous cock.”

I obeyed, lying on my back across from him, stroking myself with slow, tight pumps. I was so hard I thought I might burst. One squeeze and I was leaking all over my hand. He watched, hungry, lips parted like he was ready to devour me. For a second, I thought he’d lean forward and taste me.

But he didn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he was still holding that line between Dom and man. And honestly? At that point, I didn’t care—I was so far gone I could barely breathe.

I felt my orgasm building and then remembered—*fuck—the rule.*

Slowing my strokes, panting, I met his gaze. I begged with my eyes.

He smirked—God, he *smirked*—and leaned forward.

“Yes, come for me now, baby.”

I groaned with pure relief as the tension snapped. My cock erupted in thick, hot streams across my belly and chest, my whole body trembling with release. Aiden didn’t look away. He watched every pulse, every twitch, his gaze bouncing between my face and the mess I’d made—*his mess now.*

I exhaled, eyes falling closed as the orgasm rolled through me, dizzying and perfect.

My obedience.

My pleasure.

*His* pleasure.

And the terrifying realization that I had absolutely, irrevocably lost my damn mind.

****

After giving head for the first time in my life—and all else that went on—I felt like I'd been run over by a semi. My throat was raw, my balls ached, and my limbs were made of jelly. I didn’t know if it was the emotional breakthrough, the physical intensity, or just the whiplash of being seen, owned, and wrecked all in one night—but I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.

Aiden noticed.

He guided me to the shower, running the water until it was the perfect temperature, then pulled me under the stream with him. I expected him to bark out instructions or hand me the soap, but instead, he washed me. Carefully. Thoroughly. His fingers moving over my skin in slow, reverent sweeps.

“You need rest,” he said quietly, rinsing the shampoo from my hair. “Tonight was a lot for you.”

I didn’t argue. Didn’t even nod. I just stood there and let him take care of me.

By the time we dried off and made it to bed, I was half asleep already. But then he kissed me—slow, sweet, nothing like what we’d just done. It felt like the start of something.

He pulled me close, and I sank into the warmth of his chest, letting his heartbeat lull me into sleep.

I don’t know what time it was when I woke up. The room was dark, quiet. Aiden’s arm was still wrapped around me, heavy and secure. I slipped out of bed carefully and padded toward the bathroom, but as I made my way back, something caught my eye.

The light from the hallway spilled softly into Aiden’s office. The door was open.

I paused.

I wasn’t snooping. Not really. I just felt... curious. Like walking through someone’s memories and getting to know them better. The man who owned me. Who kissed me like I mattered. Who told me I was his.

The office smelled like him—leather and spice and a hint of wood polish. I ran my fingers over the edge of his desk, the clean lines of the oak, the familiar scuff marks near the keyboard. His trophies were lined neatly along the back wall, framed photos from his time as a player. He looked younger then, just as intense.

The bookshelf caught my eye. A row of thick, well-worn volumes. Psychology, literature, leadership. My fingers trailed along the spines until one title stuck out. Not because of the name, but because it was crooked…. I pulled it, and a photo album fell out from behind it.

It wasn’t labeled. Just a plain, black, leather-bound book. I hesitated. For half a second, I thought about putting it back. But I didn’t.

I sat down in his chair, opened it... and my chest clenched—Aiden. With someone else. The first few photos were innocent enough. A blond guy, maybe my age, grinning in a sun-drenched field. Aiden standing beside him. They looked... close.

Then the next set hit me like a punch to the gut—bondage, restraints…. That same boy, collared, cuffed, bound in positions I hadn’t even imagined yet.

The look on Aiden’s face wasn’t the usual cool, unreadable mask. He looked hungry. Intimate. Possessive.

My heart twisted.

I slammed the album shut, harder than I meant to, and shoved it back into its hiding place before I could think. My pulse thundered in my ears…. Who the fuck was that? I didn’t know this guy. Didn’t know the story. But suddenly, I hated him.

I stalked back to the bedroom, climbed into bed, and clung to Aiden like a lifeline, burying my face into his chest.

He was mine now. And no fucking golden twink was gonna take Aiden from me.