Mag-log inThe first week in the cabin was a blur of adjustment. There was no hum of electricity, no distant traffic, no ticking clocks. There was only the wind, the crackle of the fire, and the sound of their own breathing.They fell into a routine that was primitive and domestic. Aiden chopped wood. Julian c
Julian cried out, his head falling back. It burned. It had been days. He was tight.Aiden didn't stop. He thrust all the way in, burying himself to the hilt."Fuck!" Julian screamed. "Yes!"Aiden grabbed Julian’s hips. He fucked him hard and fast. The car rocked under their movements. The metal crea
Aiden sat in the back of a van parked three blocks from the precinct. He was shirtless, his shoulder bandaged, sweat gleaming on his chest. The van was filled with monitors.On the main screen, he watched Julian in the interrogation room. He watched every subtle shift of Julian’s body language. He s
Across from him sat DeteRtive Miller. A man with a tired face and a mustache that had seen better decades."You're saying he forced you," Miller said for the third time. He tapped his pen on the file. "He kidnapped you from your office? Held you for weeks?""Yes," Julian said. He kept his voice soft
Julian’s eyes snapped open. The sound cut through the post-coital haze like a knife. It wasn't a dream. It was a siren. And it was close.He sat up, wincing at the pain in his arm. "Aiden."Aiden was already moving. He rolled out of bed and ran to the window. He peeled back the curtain just an inch.
The infection set in that night.They were driving through the mountains, aiming for the coast, trying to put as much distance between them and the ghost town as possible. The road wound treacherously along the cliffs, the drop-off falling away into darkness.Julian started shivering. He pulled his
The package arrived the next day. It was not a plain brown box. It was a long, sleek black box with a silver ribbon. Inside, nestled on a bed of black satin, was the lingerie. It was a delicate, lacy thing, a strappy teddy in a deep, blood red. It was sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination, with
He brought the flogger down on my chest. It wasn't a hard slap, but a series of sharp, stinging bites. I cried out, more from surprise than pain. He did it again, on my stomach, my thighs. The feeling was strange, a hot, prickling sensation that spread across my skin. It hurt, but it also felt good.
The first thing I noticed was the silence. My apartment was never silent. There was always the hum of traffic, the drip of a leaky faucet, the shouts of my neighbors. Here, there was nothing. A deep, heavy quiet that pressed in on me. The second thing I noticed was the bed. It was too soft. I sank i
He was in his home office, a large, sunlit room filled with books and a massive mahogany desk. He was on the phone, his back to me, talking in a low, serious voice about mergers and acquisitions. I stood in the doorway, not sure what to do.He ended his call and turned around. His eyes scanned me, a







