Crossing Lines Chapter 62

**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.

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.

****

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 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….”

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 St. Albert?” He almost clapped at the thought of whatever that was. 

Aiden gave me an evil look, almost considering that option before shaking his head. “Not this time,” Aiden told the guy calmly. “He wants to get his nipples pierced.”

My head snapped around so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. “I do what? No—Sir, I don’t!”

The piercer chuckled at my panic like it was the highlight of his day. Aiden, on the other hand, didn’t even blink.

“Believe me,” he said with absolute certainty, eyes locked on me, “you do.” His mouth twitched like the faintest smile was threatening. “And that little outburst just cost you ten.”

My pulse spiked so fast I thought I’d be sick. Every cell in me wanted to bolt, but my feet stayed planted. Because he’d told me to. Because part of me needed to prove I could.

The piercer smirked at my panic and started laying out supplies on a steel tray. “First timer?”

Aiden’s hand slid down to my lower back, warm and steady. “He’ll manage.”

I sat when Aiden told me to sit. I stripped my shirt off when he told me to. The chair reclined with a mechanical groan, and leather straps clicked around my wrists before I could think twice.

My breath came fast and shallow.

The piercer pinched one nipple between his gloved fingers, rubbing it with alcohol before clamping down. The metal bite made me flinch hard against the restraints.

When he reached for the curved needle, my body betrayed me—I jolted like an animal in a trap. “Please, Sir,” I gasped, dizzy. “May I ask something?”

Aiden leaned closer, his face filling my vision. “What is it?”

“Can he numb it? Please. I—" My voice cracked. “I’m terrified of needles.”

The piercer laughed. “Kid, this isn’t a tooth extraction—”

“Do it,” Aiden cut in, sharp as steel.

The man blinked, then sighed, reaching for a small vial of gel. Cold slid over my chest. My relief came out as a broken whisper: “Thank you, Sir.”

Aiden’s eyes locked on mine. “Breathe. Look at me. Not at him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” I rasped, clinging to his voice like it was the only thing holding me upright.

The needle pierced through. Pain shot white-hot, stealing the air from my lungs, and—*Oh, my God, you motherf*…— I gasped, eyes wide, but Aiden was there—calm, immovable. “Good boy,” he murmured, brushing a hand along my jaw. “You’re doing so well.”

So well, my ass… I had tears in my eyes, and I was probably hyperventilating and ready to throw up, but for some reason that escaped my understanding, I stayed put.

The second clamp snapped into place, and before I could beg, the other needle drove through. I shouted, half in pain, half in disbelief that I’d let this happen. Aiden’s palm pressed over my sternum, steady, commanding, and I forced myself to breathe through it.

By the time the silver rings were in place, sweat plastered my hair to my forehead, and my chest was a throb of raw fire. The piercer cleaned me with saline, the cool spray almost unbearable in its relief.

“Keep them clean, four to six times a day,” the guy muttered, packing up. “No rough stuff for now, no playing, no licking, nothing.”

Aiden’s lips curved at that, but his eyes never left me. He reached down, brushing a thumb across the tender skin between the new jewelry. His touch was reverent and cruel at once. “Beautiful,” he said softly, and I didn’t know if he meant the piercings or the fact that I hadn’t run.

I swallowed hard, trembling, unsure if I was proud or humiliated—or both.

And God help me, when he leaned down to murmur “Mine” against my ear, I knew I’d do it all over again.