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Chained to His Bed, Addicted to His Cock
publish date:
2026-10-22 23:28:35
Latest chapter
Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts Chained to His Bed, Addicted to His Cock 2
Shen Wei’s eyes darkened. He pulled his thumb free, slow, letting it drag against the soft inner edge of Liu Xue’s lip, and the wetness there—spit and blood and the slick heat of a mouth that hadn’t meant to yield—glistened on his skin. He raised his thumb to his own mouth and licked it clean, eyes never leaving Liu Xue’s face. The gesture was obscene. It was a promise. It was a claim staked in front of every minister and guard in that hall, and Liu Xue’s face burned with shame and something worse—something hot and twisting that pooled low in his belly and made him want to press his thighs together.“Take him to my chambers,” Shen Wei said, already turning away, robes swirling. “Clean him up. Feed him. And chain him to the bed.” A pause. Over his shoulder: “Not the guest bed. Mine.”The walk to the warlord’s private quarters was a blur of torchlight and marble corridors, guards’ hands on his arms, his own heartbeat drowning out every other sound. Chain him to the bed. The words looped
Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts Chained to His Bed, Addicted to His Cock
The chains around Liu Xue’s wrists were cold iron, biting into pale skin already rubbed raw from three days of forced march. He knelt on the marble floor of the Hall of Judgement, knees aching against the unforgiving stone, and refused to look up. Let them think him cowed. Let them think him broken. He’d rather bleed out on this floor than give the warlord the satisfaction of seeing fear in his eyes.But when the heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor—measured, unhurried, each strike of boot on stone like the beat of a war drum—something in Liu Xue’s chest clenched that had nothing to do with fear. The guards at the door dropped to their knees. The minister at the dais went silent mid-sentence. Every soul in that hall bent their head as Lord Shen Wei entered, and Liu Xue, whose family had ruled the Northern Provinces for three hundred years, felt the air itself thicken with the weight of one man’s presence.“Look at me.” The command was quiet. Not soft—quiet like a blade sliding fro
Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts His Assistant Bent Me Over the Boardroom Table 19
"Hurts you? He will. He'll try. That's what he does." Theo's voice was steady, certain, the voice of someone who'd survived his own damage and knew the terrain. "But you're not nine anymore. You're not seventeen. You're a man who faced down a board coup for the person he loves, who lets me put my socks in the wrong drawer, who made kimchi jjigae for breakfast—" A wet laugh. "—okay, I made the kimchi jjigae. But you ate it. That's growth."Kieran laughed — broken, tearful, real — and pressed his forehead against Theo's."Come with me.""To Boston?""To Boston. To the hospital. To whatever this is." Kieran's hands found Theo's waist, gripping hard. "I can't do this alone. I've done everything alone my whole life, and I'm done. I want you there. I need you there.""I'll be there." Theo kissed him — soft, fierce, a promise sealed. "I'll always be there."They drove to Boston the next morning.Kieran's driver took the sedan, and they sat in the back — Theo's hand on Kieran's thigh, thumb d
Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts His Assistant Bent Me Over the Boardroom Table 18
The phone call came at noon.Kieran was in his home office — a glassed-in corner of the second floor that looked out over Central Park — when Margot's name flashed on his screen. Not unusual; she called a dozen times a day. But something in the timing, in the way the phone had rung exactly once and stopped — as if she'd rehearsed the moment — made his stomach tighten."Margot.""Kieran." Her voice was careful. Too careful. The voice she used when delivering news that couldn't be softened. "I just received a call from a law firm in Boston. Whitmore & Associates. They're representing your father."The world went very quiet.Kieran hadn't heard the word father spoken aloud in eleven years. Not since he'd stood in a courtroom at nineteen and legally emancipated himself from the man who'd spent his childhood teaching him that love was conditional, affection was leverage, and the only person you could rely on was yourself.Richard Voss had been a venture capitalist — successful, ruthless, l
Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts His Assistant Bent Me Over the Boardroom Table 17
Moving in, Kieran discovered, was an act of war.Not with Theo — never with Theo, who unpacked his books with the quiet reverence of a curator installing an exhibition and folded his clothes into Kieran's closet like he'd always been there. The war was internal, fought in the space between Kieran's ribs, every new object that entered the penthouse a small invasion that his control-freak instincts registered as a threat.Theo's toothbrush in the bathroom — electric blue, bristles still damp from that morning. A row of spices on the kitchen counter — gochugaru, sesame oil, things Kieran couldn't pronounce. A record player in the living room, because of course Theo had a record player, and now the penthouse that had been silent for years hummed with Chet Baker and Nina Simone and artists Kieran had never consciously listened to but was already learning to love.It had been eleven days. Kieran was losing his mind."You're staring at my sock drawer again." Theo appeared in the bedroom door
Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts His Assistant Bent Me Over the Boardroom Table 16
The bedroom was different from the rest of the penthouse.Theo stopped in the doorway and stared, and Kieran watched his face cycle through surprise, fascination, and something that looked almost like tenderness.The walls were dark — not white, not grey, but a deep navy that absorbed the city light from the windows and gave the room the feeling of being underwater. The bed was enormous, dressed in charcoal sheets that looked like they'd never been slept in. But the surfaces — the nightstand, the dresser, the windowsill — were cluttered, in a way that contradicted everything the rest of the penthouse proclaimed.A stack of books with cracked spines and dog-eared pages. A watch with a scratched face, too old to be current, too worn to be decorative. A photograph in a simple frame — a woman, dark-haired, fierce-eyed, holding a toddler on her hip. A ceramic mug with a chip on the rim, clearly handmade, clearly loved."You keep it all hidden," Theo said softly, moving into the room like h
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