The Leash Tightens

The weekend arrived like a storm Eli wasn’t ready for. Lily wanted to spend the day out with friends, shopping and catching a movie. She had begged Eli to tag along, but something in her tone told him she wouldn’t mind if he stayed behind.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” she said, tugging on his arm playfully. “We’ll just be running around all day, and I know how you hate malls.”

Eli hesitated, torn. A day surrounded by Lily’s friends meant a reprieve from Damian’s gaze, but it also meant hours pretending to laugh at inside jokes he didn’t understand. The thought of it made his chest heavy.

“Maybe I’ll stay here,” he muttered.

Lily grinned. “Perfect. Dad’ll be around anyway. He can keep you company.”

His stomach dropped, but she kissed his cheek quickly before running off to grab her bag.

Minutes later, Eli found himself standing in the foyer, the sound of the front door clicking shut behind her. The silence that followed was suffocating.

He turned slowly. Damian was already there, leaning against the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, watching him.

“You stayed.” His voice was calm, almost amused.

Eli swallowed hard. “Yeah. I… I thought it’d be better.”

A long pause stretched between them. Damian’s eyes traced over him, slow and deliberate, like he was reading every unspoken word carved into Eli’s skin.

“Good,” Damian said finally, pushing off the doorframe. “Come with me.”

The words weren’t loud. They weren’t sharp. But Eli’s feet moved before his brain caught up, following Damian down the hall like he was tethered by an invisible leash.

Every step made his pulse quicken. He knew this was the moment—the moment where politeness stopped being an excuse.

And obedience started being the truth.

Damian led Eli into his study, a room Eli had never been inside before. The door clicked shut behind them, muting the rest of the house.

The space was masculine and severe—dark wood shelves lined with books, a heavy leather chair behind a wide desk, the faint smell of whiskey and tobacco lingering in the air. The curtains were half-drawn, allowing only a sliver of daylight to cut across the room.

“Sit,” Damian said, nodding toward a smaller chair near the desk.

The word was soft. Not demanding, not harsh. But Eli’s knees bent immediately, lowering him into the seat before he had even processed it. His palms pressed against his thighs to still the trembling.

Damian took his time. He poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter, the amber liquid catching the light. He didn’t offer Eli any. Instead, he leaned against the desk, watching him with that steady, unreadable gaze.

“You react quickly,” Damian said at last, swirling the glass lazily. “Almost too quickly.”

Eli’s mouth went dry. His chest tightened, panic and something darker twisting together. “I… I was just being polite.”

A smirk ghosted across Damian’s lips. “Politeness is hesitation. You don’t hesitate.”

The words landed heavy. Eli couldn’t look away, caught in the weight of them. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Damian set his glass down, the sound sharp in the silence. He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Stand up,” he said.

Eli rose instantly, pulse hammering in his ears.

“Come here.”

His feet moved before he had time to think, carrying him across the rug until he stood directly in front of Damian. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough to smell the faint spice of his cologne.

Damian let the silence stretch, studying him. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached up and adjusted Eli’s collar, straightening it like a father might for a son—except his fingers lingered, brushing against the skin of Eli’s neck.

Eli’s breath caught. The touch was nothing. It was everything. His skin burned under Damian’s fingertips, his entire body taut with the effort not to shiver.

“Better,” Damian murmured. His eyes flicked up, catching Eli’s. “You’ll listen when I speak to you. Won’t you?”

Eli’s throat worked. He wanted to deny it, to shake his head, to break the spell. But the word slipped out before he could stop it, low and shaky:

“Yes, sir.”

Damian’s smirk deepened. His hand dropped away, but the ghost of his touch lingered like a brand. He picked up his glass again, turning his back as though the moment hadn’t happened at all.

“You can go,” he said casually, sipping his drink.

Eli staggered back a step, heat flooding his face, his chest, his entire body. He turned quickly, nearly fumbling with the doorknob as he escaped into the hall.

But even as he left, he knew the truth.

He had obeyed. Without hesitation. Without resistance.

And Damian knew it.

Eli shut the bedroom door behind him and pressed his back to it, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. The silence of Lily’s room was a shield, but it did nothing to calm the pounding of his heart.

He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the carpet. His body buzzed, alive in ways it shouldn’t be. Every nerve seemed to hum with the memory of Damian’s touch—those fingers brushing the collar of his shirt, grazing the bare skin of his neck.

It was nothing. Nothing more than an adjustment. Something any man could do to another without a second thought.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not with Damian.

Eli’s stomach twisted as he replayed it again and again: the command, the way his body obeyed without thought, the quiet authority in Damian’s voice. And then, the word that had slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

“Yes, sir.”

Eli groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes. Why had he said it? He hadn’t planned to. It had just… fallen out of him. Instinct. Reflex. Like his body knew the answer before his mind did.

And Damian had heard it. Of course he had. He’d smirked, satisfied, like he’d been waiting for it.

Eli sank down onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. His body ached with guilt, with shame, but beneath it—buried deep, dangerous, undeniable—was need. A need that scared him more than anything.

Because the truth was, he didn’t regret saying it. Not really. The word had fit too perfectly in his mouth. It had felt right.

He thought of Lily—sweet, laughing, oblivious Lily—who trusted him, who curled up against him at night without knowing the storm inside his chest. She saw only the version of him that smiled and kissed her and played the role of boyfriend.

But Damian saw through it. Damian saw everything.

The leash wasn’t just tightening. It was already there, invisible, coiled around Eli’s throat. And with every command, every look, every brush of his hand, Damian was tugging it shorter, closer, pulling Eli toward something he couldn’t name aloud.

Eli lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his breath shallow. His body betrayed him—the heat low in his stomach, the tightness in his chest, the restless hunger in his veins.

He wanted it. He wanted him.

And that truth terrified him more than anything else in the world.

The clink of silverware filled the dining room, a rhythm broken only by the occasional scrape of a chair or the hum of Lily’s chatter. She carried the conversation as she always did—stories about her friends, about her classes, about the movie she’d seen that afternoon.

Eli smiled when he was supposed to, laughed in the right places, but his attention wasn’t on her. Not really.

It was on Damian.

Across the table, Damian ate with deliberate calm, his movements precise, unhurried. But every now and then his gaze flicked up, locking with Eli’s for a moment too long. A silent reminder.

The study still lingered in Eli’s body. The brush of fingers at his collar, the low murmur of You’ll listen when I speak to you. He could feel it now, ghosting over him even as Damian sat half a table away.

“Eli,” Damian said suddenly, cutting through Lily’s voice.

Eli stiffened. “Yes?”

“Pass the bread.” The request was simple, ordinary.

But the tone wasn’t.

It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t casual. The weight in Damian’s voice carried the same authority as it had in the study, that same quiet command.

Eli’s hand shot out before his mind caught up. He grabbed the basket and placed it neatly in front of Damian, quick, efficient, almost too eager.

Damian’s eyes flicked to him, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks.”

Lily didn’t seem to notice—she was busy checking her phone, laughing softly at a text. But Eli felt the heat crawl up his neck, his body betraying him once again.

A few minutes later, it happened again.

“Salt,” Damian said, without looking up from his plate.

Eli’s hand moved instantly, sliding the shaker across the table. Their fingers brushed—accidentally, inevitably—and Eli’s breath caught.

Damian looked at him then, eyes sharp, knowing. Another leash tug, another test passed.

Lily glanced up, frowning slightly. “You okay? You’re… jumpy tonight.”

Eli forced a laugh, shaking his head. “Just tired, that’s all.”

But Damian didn’t look away. He held Eli’s gaze for a moment longer, then returned to his meal, as if nothing had happened.

Eli tried to steady his breathing, but it was useless. Every command, every slip, every brush of skin dragged him deeper into something he couldn’t control.

And the worst part was—he didn’t want to.

The dishes were still clattering in the kitchen when Eli slipped down the hall, hoping to escape upstairs before Damian found him. His chest was tight, his mind still buzzing from dinner.

He’d obeyed. Twice. Too quickly, too easily.

And Lily had noticed—if only faintly.

He took the stairs two at a time, relief flooding him when he reached the landing. But as he turned toward Lily’s room, a voice stopped him.

“Eli.”

His body froze. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

Slowly, he looked back. Damian stood at the base of the stairs, arms folded, watching him with that steady, unreadable gaze.

“Come here.”

The command was quiet, casual. But Eli’s feet moved before he could think. Down one step. Then another. Until he was standing only a few feet above Damian, his breath uneven.

Damian didn’t move closer. He didn’t have to. His presence filled the space, heavy and certain.

“You were quick at dinner,” he said softly. “Too quick.”

Eli swallowed, his throat dry. “I… I was just trying to help.”

A low hum left Damian’s chest, somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Helping is hesitation. You didn’t hesitate.”

The words mirrored what he’d said in the study. And just like then, Eli had no defense. No excuse.

Damian’s eyes narrowed, sharp in the dim light. “You’ll answer me honestly. Why did you obey so fast?”

Eli’s stomach knotted. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He wanted to lie, to say it was coincidence, to say he hadn’t thought about it. But the truth pressed against his lips, raw and dangerous.

Finally, in a whisper, he said it.

“Because… you told me to.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Damian’s lips curved slowly into a smirk. “Good boy.”

The words slammed into Eli’s chest like a physical blow. His knees went weak, his breath hitched, his entire body alight with shame and heat and something he couldn’t name.

Damian stepped up one stair, closing the space between them. His voice dropped lower, darker.

“You’ll keep listening when I speak. And you won’t make me remind you. Understood?”

Eli’s pulse hammered. His throat felt tight, but the answer slipped out before he could stop it.

“Yes, sir.”

Damian’s hand brushed his arm—light, fleeting, enough to make Eli’s skin burn. Then he stepped back, turning toward the kitchen as though nothing had happened.

“Go upstairs,” he said over his shoulder. “She’ll be looking for you soon.”

Eli stood frozen on the stairs, heart racing, the echo of good boy lodged deep in his chest.

The leash wasn’t just tightening anymore.

It was locked.

Thanks for reading, lovelies 💕 If you enjoyed this chapter, drop a comment and let me know your thoughts. I love hearing your reactions — they inspire me to keep writing!