Crossing Lines Chapter 50

**Aiden**

"Absolutely not."

The words came out sharper than I intended, slicing through the charged silence between us. Noah stood across from me, arms crossed, brows furrowed, that stubborn tilt to his chin already sending my blood pressure through the roof.

"It’s just a party," he said slowly, like I was the one who didn’t get it. "One night. Friday. Keon's birthday. You know—fun? Social interaction? That thing people our age are supposed to do?"

"It’s not *just* a night," I snapped, stepping toward him. "It’s *Friday* night. Weekends are part of our agreement. Non-negotiable. I was crystal clear about that."

He scoffed, turning away like he couldn’t stand looking at me. "Yeah, well, you didn’t say I was signing up to be your prisoner. You just said to ask, and I asked, didn’t I? I’m asking for one single night."

"You’re asking," I said, keeping my voice low but firm, "and I’m answering. The answer is no."

He turned back around, eyes blazing now. "I’ve been working my ass off in the field. I’ve followed every rule, every command, I’ve put up with—God, so *much*! The denial, the rules, the punishments..."

"Because you wanted this. *You* came to *me*."

"I didn’t come to be locked in your damn house! I came to learn, to grow—not to be cut off from my entire world. I deserve a break!"

My jaw tensed, hands clenched at my sides.

"This is not a part-time roleplay, Noah. It’s a dynamic. A lifestyle. We don’t drop it when it’s convenient… And no, you are not my prisoner," I added in a softer tone. “You are free, Noah. If this is not what you want, you may leave now.”

The words burned on their way out as fear crept in at the idea of him actually walking away, but I didn’t want a hostage; I wanted a willing submissive, a partner who, having a choice, would still choose me.”

He looked at me then, not angry anymore—just hurt. Frustrated. "Please, Sir. Just this once, I promise. It's Keon's birthday. I will not do anything wrong or break the rules… Don’t you trust me?"

That question hit harder than it should have. *The most famous expression humans have abused….*

"It’s not about trust," I said, softer now. "It’s about time. What we have—what we’re building—we only get two days a week for it. Two days where I don’t have to pretend we’re something else. Where I don’t have to keep my hands off you in public or pretend I’m not always thinking about what you need from me."

And just like that, I sounded like the typical clingy, needy guy in the relationship.

He stared at me like he didn’t expect me to say that. Like he saw something raw under my control I didn’t mean to show.

Then he stepped closer, voice dropping. "I’ll be back Saturday. I swear. And I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be the perfect boy for you…."

My breath caught.

He was playing a dangerous game—sweet talk and submission, all wrapped in temptation.

“And just how are you planning on doing that?” I asked, low and measured, because anything more than that would’ve given away just how close I was to caving.

Noah bit his lip, looking up at me from under those long lashes, with the kind of grin that could set fire to a church. “Well… I may or may not have been watching a few videos. Getting some, you know… pointers.”

“Oh?” I arched a brow.

He had the audacity to look bashful, then the audacity to keep going. “There’s this guy who teaches deepthroat tricks with a banana. Gag reflex training and everything. I even practiced holding my breath while humming.”

My cock twitched, straining against my zipper. I took a sharp breath. “Why wait until Saturday when you can show me now?”

Without another word, he dropped to his knees.

Just like that.

Naked, flushed, cock aching, and neglected—but eyes locked on mine like he was about to take his damn final exam.

He moved between my legs, fingers working at my belt with ease. This time, there was no hesitation. No awkward buildup. He wanted this—was desperate to prove himself. And fuck if it didn’t show.

He took me into his hand first, leaning in, lips parting. His breath ghosted over the head of my cock as he whispered, “Let me impress you, Sir.”

Then he wrapped those pretty lips around me and sank down.

No teasing swirls this time. No testing the waters. Just pure, focused intention—his throat tightening as he took more and more of me with every pass. His hands braced on my thighs, steadying himself. His moans vibrated around me, needy and sweet and absolutely filthy.

I gripped the armrest, jaw clenched, watching him work for it like a man on a mission.

If this was how he planned to earn that night out…

He was off to a very, very good start.

He worked me like he’d been made for it—slow at first, then faster, taking me deep enough that his nose brushed my skin and his throat contracted tight around the base of my cock. I groaned low, letting my head fall back as I threaded my fingers into his hair and gave him just a little pressure. Just enough to feel it. To remind him who he belonged to.

He moaned in response, sending shocks of heat down my spine.

My boy was showing off.

Not just to earn a night out, but because he *wanted* to. Because he liked knowing I was watching. Liked knowing I was on the edge, barely holding it together. And fuck, I was.

When he pulled back, he sucked hard on the head, eyes blazing as a string of spit connected his lips to my cock. “Was that good enough for a party pass, Sir?”

I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up at me. “You think this is about a party?”

His pupils dilated. “No, Sir.”

“You think this is a bribe?”

“No, Sir,” he whispered. “It’s a gift.”

“Damn right it is.”

And I shoved back into his mouth with a groan, using his throat like it was mine—which it was. All of him was. His lips, his obedience, his hunger.

He took it all. Every inch. Choking a little now, but not pulling back. Not even close. His hands fisted on my thighs, bracing himself as I rocked my hips, fucking that sweet mouth slow and deep, letting him feel the weight of my control.

I wasn’t going to last.

Not with him like this—his tongue working me with eager submission, his eyes glassy with lust, his cheeks flushed with the heat of needing to please me more than he needed to breathe.

I grunted, tightened my grip on his hair, and hissed, “Touch yourself. Now.”

He whimpered around my cock and obeyed, one hand snaking down between his legs. I could hear the obscene wet sounds of him jerking his neglected cock, and I almost lost it then and there.

“Keep going,” I growled. “Take me deeper, stroke yourself harder. Don’t stop until I say so.”

His throat spasmed as he moaned around me, the vibrations pushing me straight to the edge. My balls tightened and I thrust one last time—deep and hard—as I came in his mouth with a shout.

Noah didn’t flinch. He took it all, swallowed every drop, and even licked the head clean with a satisfied little sigh.

I looked down, chest heaving.

“Good. *Fucking*. Boy.”

He was still stroking himself, whimpering with need, his cock red and dripping.

“Please, Sir…” He breathed, voice wrecked, trembling with the need to finish.

“Not tonight,” I said, brushing the sweat from my brow. “You’ll come when I say. Not a second before.”

His jaw twitched. His hips bucked weakly into his own hand. But he obeyed—he always did.

And God… *he was stunning like this*. Feral and obedient, desperate and still mine.

I bent, kissed his forehead, then whispered against his temple,

“If you’re this good tomorrow night… maybe I’ll let you come *twice*.”