INICIAR SESIÓNDon’t Touch MeChapter 3The weekend stretched the tension until it felt like a live wire under the floorboards.Noah doubled down on avoidance. He left before sunrise, came back after midnight, and moved through the apartment like any prolonged eye contact might detonate something. I let him have the distance. For two days I barely spoke. I cooked when he was gone. I worked late at the café down the street. I brought no one home.By Sunday night the silence had become its own kind of pressure.I was on the couch with a book I wasn’t reading when the front door finally opened. Noah stepped in looking wrecked—damp from the rain, backpack sliding off one shoulder, dark circles under his eyes. He froze when he saw me. For a second I thought he might turn around and leave again.Instead he shut the door and muttered, “You’re still up.”“Waiting.”“For what?”I closed the book and set it aside. “You.”He dropped the backpack by the wall and dragged a hand through his wet hair. Water drippe
Don’t Touch MeChapter 2Three days later he was still pretending I didn’t exist.Noah moved through the apartment like a ghost with excellent posture. Up early. Headphones in. Out the door before I finished my coffee. Back late. Straight to his room. Door closed. No conversation. No lingering. If I was in the kitchen, he waited until I left. If I was on the couch, he took the long way around.It only made me harder.I started staying in more. Not enough to look obvious. Just enough to be in the way. I’d cook when I knew he was due home. Leave the bathroom door cracked while I showered so the steam and the sound of water would reach him. Sit on the couch in nothing but low-slung sweatpants with a book I wasn’t reading, legs spread, watching him try not to look when he crossed the living room.He always looked.Quick. Guilty. Like he hated himself for it.Thursday night the tension finally cracked.I came home late from the gym, still in a damp black tank and joggers, gym bag over one
Don’t Touch MeChapter 1I knew he hated me the second he walked through the door.Noah Reid stood in the doorway of the apartment with a single duffel bag and an expression like someone had just told him he’d be sharing oxygen with a convicted felon. Twenty-two. Lean. Dark hair that always looked like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. Mouth set in a hard line. And those eyes—sharp, wary, already deciding I was the problem.“You’re Dominic,” he said. Not a question.“I am.” I leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching him the way I watched anything I already wanted. “You’re late.”“Traffic.”“Right.”The building manager had warned me the new subletter was “quiet and private.” What he hadn’t mentioned was that Noah Reid looked at me like I was something he needed to scrape off his shoe. The previous roommate had bailed three weeks into the lease, and the agency had stuck me with the first warm body that could make rent. That warm body was currently
Chapter 5I woke to the weight of an arm across my waist and the solid heat of a body pressed against my back.For a few disoriented seconds I forgot where I was. Then the scent of cedar and clean skin settled over me, and the night before came back in a rush—Adrian’s bed, the way he’d held me open and fucked me slow, the quiet invitation to stay. Morning light filtered through the tall windows, soft and gray. Rain still tapped against the glass.Adrian’s breathing was steady against the back of my neck. His hand rested low on my stomach, fingers splayed like he’d claimed the space in his sleep. I shifted carefully and felt him stir, the soft length of his cock against the curve of my ass thickening as he woke.“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.“Morning.”His hand slid lower, cupping me. I was already half-hard. A few lazy strokes and I was fully there, pushing back against him without thinking. He made a low sound of approval and reached for the lube on the nightstand.
The Tutor’s HandsChapter 4His apartment smelled like cedar and rain.I stood in the hallway outside unit 4B with my heart slamming against my ribs, the scrap of paper he’d given me already soft from how many times I’d folded and unfolded it. Friday night. His place. No library table. No chance of someone walking past the door. Just us.I knocked once.Adrian opened the door wearing a soft black T-shirt and dark jeans, barefoot, hair slightly damp like he’d just showered. The second our eyes met, the careful distance he’d kept in the study rooms disappeared.He pulled me inside by the front of my jacket and kicked the door shut.The kiss was immediate and hungry. He backed me against the wall in the entryway, one hand fisted in my hair, the other already shoving my jacket off my shoulders. I dropped my bag without looking. Keys hit the floor. Neither of us cared. His mouth moved to my throat, teeth scraping, and I tilted my head back with a broken sound.“Been thinking about this all
Chapter 3I lasted four days.By the fifth I was losing my mind.Adrian’s rule—no touching myself—had turned every ordinary moment into torture. Showering was dangerous. Walking across campus with a backpack pressed against my front was worse. At night I lay in bed hard and aching, replaying the way he’d stretched me open in that chair, the thick drag of his cock, the low sound he made when he came. My hands stayed clenched in the sheets. I didn’t break the rule. I wanted the reward too badly.Thursday evening I showed up to the study room fifteen minutes early, already leaking into my underwear. The door was unlocked. He was waiting.Adrian looked me over once and knew.“Good boy,” he said quietly.Two words and my knees went weak.He locked the door, set his bag on the table, and pointed at the clear space in front of it.“Clothes off. Fold them. Then get on your knees.”I stripped fast, folding everything the way he wanted, and dropped to the floor. The carpet was thin. My cock sto
Chapter 1: Caught in the ActThe bass from Jordan’s speakers thumped through the walls as I slipped out of his room, heart hammering like a damn traitor. The party downstairs was still raging—cheap beer, shitty EDM, and too many people crammed into his parents’ living room. But I wasn’t going back
Chapter 4: Shadows and Surrender The crack outside the cabin window jolted me awake before dawn, my body still sore and marked from Damien’s relentless claiming the night before. I lay tangled in the heavy blankets, his arm draped possessively over my waist, his breath warm against my neck. For a
Chapter 3: Cabin Fever The family cabin loomed ahead like a trap wrapped in pine trees and fresh snow. Mom and Dad had insisted on the weekend getaway to bond us all together, but they bailed at the last minute with some excuse about a work emergency back in the city. Convenient. Or maybe suspicio
Chapter 1: Caught in the Dark I never thought I would see my stepbrother like this. The house was supposed to be empty. Mom and Dad had left for their anniversary weekend, and I had planned to spend the night buried in my books, finally getting some peace from Damien’s constant noise. Hockey prac







