Part 1: The Mistake
She thought he’d forgotten.It had been two days since she went into his office. Two days since her curiosity got the best of her and she crossed a boundary he’d made very clear from the beginning.Do not touch what doesn’t belong to you.She thought she was clever—silent, sneaky, careful. But the moment she’d stepped in there, she’d felt it. That creeping, spine-chilling sense that she was being watched. Still, she looked. She opened his drawers. She read the names in his leather-bound book. She found the list with her name on it.She never should’ve seen that list.Now it was late, and the house was too quiet.She walked barefoot through the hall, hugging her arms. The floor was cold. The lights were dimmed to a soft amber glow. No music. No television. Not even the distant hum of the staff moving about.Just silence.She rounded the corner into the main hall—and stopped.There was a quiet knock at the door.Liam glanced up from his laptop, expecting to see his roommate’s shadow through the peephole—or maybe some random drunk pounding on the wrong dorm again.But when he opened the door, his heart nearly stopped.It was Drew.And this time, he wasn’t in a hoodie. No gym bag slung over his shoulder. No sweat-slicked skin from late-night workouts. No flushed, guilty look like he’d come to scratch an itch and run.He wore a dark green Henley and jeans. His hair was damp, not messy. And his eyes—they held something still. Something open.Something Liam hadn’t seen before.“You gonna let me in?” Drew asked, voice soft.Liam stepped aside without saying a word.Drew didn’t rush in like usual. He walked in slowly, like the room meant something now. Like he was paying attention to the way it looked, how it smelled. Like it wasn’t just a place to lose himself in Liam’s mouth, then disappear again.Liam shut the door behind him.“I thought you ghosted,” he said
Drew didn’t text him the next day.Or the day after that.But Liam wasn’t surprised. He knew the look Drew had worn after everything—the flushed face, the trembling hands, the blank eyes as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. It was the same look guys wore when they touched the fire and realized how good burning felt.And then they got scared.But scared or not, the damage was done. Drew had tasted him. Let him in. Fallen to his knees and stopped pretending for five fucking minutes.And Liam wasn’t about to let that go to waste.---Wednesday night. 11:42 PM.A knock on the door.Liam rolled out of bed in nothing but boxers and a tee. He knew before he even checked the peephole who it would be.When he opened the door, Drew was standing there in gym shorts and a thin white tank. No hoodie this time. No pretense. Just his raw, flushed face and eyes that flicked up to meet Liam’s like he couldn’t hold it in anymore.“I can’t sleep,” Drew mumbled.Liam stepped aside. “That so
Drew didn’t speak to him for three days.Liam didn’t mind. He’d seen enough in that locker room to know the silence was a reaction. Fear, maybe. Shame, definitely. But not disgust. No, that look Drew gave him before he turned off the water and stormed out—it wasn’t revulsion.It was want.Messy, pent-up, poorly-hidden want.And Liam had seen it before. Plenty of times. But never in someone like Drew Carter.That’s what made it interesting.---It was a Sunday night when the text came in. Liam was sprawled out on his dorm bed, sketching in his notebook. He saw the notification pop up and smiled.Unknown Number:You busy? Need help with Econ.Right. Econ.Liam:Who’s this?Unknown Number:You know who.He waited five seconds before replying.Liam:Be there in 10.---Drew’s dorm was on the athlete’s floor—slightly bigger rooms, private bathrooms, and the faint scent of protein powder in the hall.He answered the door wearing a black hoodie and gray sweats, hair damp from another shower.
The gym was nearly empty, just the sharp echo of sneakers against concrete and the soft hum of showers running in the back. Liam stepped inside, hoodie slung over one shoulder, earbuds still in. The weight room lights had dimmed, and judging by the musky air, the football team had just finished practice.Perfect.He didn’t expect much from a Thursday night lift session—just some quiet, maybe some eye candy. But when he turned the corner into the locker room, he walked straight into six feet of damp muscle and nervous tension.Drew Carter.Quarterback. Campus god. Thick arms, golden skin, wet curls clinging to his forehead. Liam had seen him around campus, always in packs, always loud. Never alone. Never quiet.But right now, Drew stood frozen, towel slung low on his hips, a water bottle in one hand, and eyes wide like Liam had caught him with something much worse than bare skin.“Didn’t think anyone was still here,” Drew muttered.Liam gave a polite smile and didn’t stop walking, head
She was still cuffed to the bench when he came back.Naked. Blindfolded. Skin welted from the crop. Thighs still slick with him, her own scent thick in the air.But now the room felt colder. Sharper.Something had shifted.He didn’t speak as he walked in. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence stretched.She barely flinched when the whip cracked in the air, right beside her ear—but it never touched her skin.It was a warning.He stood behind her and leaned close, breath hot against her neck.“You still think this is a game,” he whispered. “Still think this is about sex.”He ran the whip’s tip down her spine, slow and cruel. “But it’s not. Not anymore.”She swallowed hard, throat dry.“This is obsession now.”He yanked the blindfold off. Her eyes adjusted to the low red light, catching the reflection of herself in the mirror. She looked wrecked. Owned.And he was staring at her like she was his property.Because she was.“I should chain you here,” he murmured. “Keep you in t
The door clicked shut behind him. She was still bent over the padded bench, arms trembling, legs spread, her thighs slick from the punishment that hadn’t even started yet. “Don’t move,” he said, voice low and cutting through the dark like a blade. She stayed frozen. His footsteps were slow, calculated. She couldn’t see him, but she heard the sound of him opening drawers. Metal shifting. Something heavy being placed on the table beside her. Leather. Buckles. She could feel the weight of his gaze even when he wasn’t touching her. He stood behind her again. “Raise your head.” She lifted it, breath shaking. He tightened the cuffs around her wrists, locking them to the bench this time. “You’re mine now. Every inch of you. Your pain. Your pleasure. Your submission.” He bent lower, mouth at her ear. “And tonight, I’m going to remin