Exclusively His

The morning sun filtered into Noah’s bedroom like an unwanted guest. He stirred awake at the sound of his alarm beeping, reached across the bedside drawer and turned the alarm off. He didn’t get up; he just lay there, the silence of his small apartment magnifying the echo of Elliott’s voice from three nights ago. It’s not unusual for a stray to go back to the alley. That was where I picked you up from, wasn’t it?The words had hurt him more than a physical cut would. And every time he closed his eyes, he could clearly see the disdain in Elliott’s eyes as he looked at him. He knew Elliott could be cold but what he saw was worse than that. It was cruelty stemming from jealousy. A side he never saw. Noah swiped the phone screen open, the brightness stinging his eyes. There were no new messages. He scrolled up through their one-sided chat history. He had left tons of messages that Elliott had read but not responded to. His last message, Can we talk? Please, was yet to be read. He stared

Several weeks had passed since Noah accepted Elliott’s offer. Most of his nights were now spent in the high-rise, curled up on the tangled silk sheets of Elliott’s bed. The arrangement had been purely transactional; arrive by 7:30, leave by 10:00pm. No sleepovers or early morning coffee. No familiarity in public spaces. No emotional connection. Just service and payment. These were Elliott’s rules and Noah had kept them all, until… One night, he slept off and woke up the next day to Elliott brewing coffee for him. Not angry at him or eager to throw him out. Elliott was relaxed. A little bit too relaxed that morning that after coffee, he made breakfast. They ate and chatted a bit before Noah left. From that day, the boundary they’d live by began to dissolve. Elliott cooked him dinner occasionally. They argued about books, philosophy. Sometimes they sat on opposite ends of the couch reading in silence, the silence between them was oddly comfortable. They bonded over their shared lov

Noah didn’t sleep that night.His room was a small cubicle at the end of the hallway. It could only fit in his bed and a reading table. The small window high on the wall was half opened yet the room was a furnace. Noah was stretched out on his student-sized mattress with eyes to the ceiling. Exhaustion sat behind those eyes like bruising.He had spent the entire night awake thinking of his debts. He calculated the numbers over and over again in the dark, as if they might somehow rearrange themselves out of mercy. The loud bang on the door wasn’t a wakeup call but a call to reality for Noah. He didn't move until the knock came a second time. It was Max, the building manager. Noah wasn’t surprised. Neither did he have the strength to plead.“I have been patient with you,” Max said, ignoring his tired looks.Noah just stared on.“Noah?” Noah staggered back. “I have it already. I will bring it to your room tonight when I get back.” Max weighed him for a bit, unsure if to believe or n

Black Halo was swarmed up the way it always did every night. Yet it didn’t smell like the typical bar. It smelled of expensive sandalwood mixed with rich tobacco. On the stage, a woman moved with the slow, liquid grace of a predator. Her skin shimmered under the golden spotlight. The music was a deep rhythmic pulse. She commanded the attention of the men in the room. Men who commanded multi billion dollars companies and empires. Elliott was here and this time it was not by accident. He told himself it was curiosity but even he did not believe that. There was something about the performance that made him stayed the previous night and that same thing has brought him to Black Halo again. He sat in the same shadowed section as before. He did not order immediately but watched.Something was amiss. Elliott could tell. He didn’t feel the same way he did the last time. He struggled to enjoy the performance and ambience that when it ended, he contemplated leaving.Then...Noah appeared.

“One, Two, Three.” Noah murmured under his breath before taking a leap. His slender body rose into a familiar arc, muscle and memory working together without thought. One hand held on tightly to the pole and the other stretched out in the air, as if defying gravity. The music in the club blared. The lights were low, and the crowd half-hidden in shadows, cheered in excitement.Not only was he a master of his craft, it was moments like this he lived for. Moments where the noise in his head quietened. Moments where he felt confident. Desired. In control. The air rushed past his ears, a soothing humming drowning out the room until his rotation brought the crowd back into clear focus again. Then, the rhythm broke.Staring into the crowd, Noah’s jaw dropped. His face, white as a ghost. His hand slipped off the pole but with a little luck he regained balance. There, in the front row under the dim golden glow, a perfect posture with hands folded loosely. No drink was in front of him and