chapter 9

Elias pov

The sunlight came slow and hesitant through the thick curtains of his bedroom, a pale gold that did nothing to warm him. He stirred beneath the sheets, muscles stiff, mind buzzing with remnants of the night before. His first instinct was to reach for the familiar, the laptop, the phone, a book, but his body refused. Everything felt raw, electric, like a current ran through his veins that had nothing to do with caffeine or sleep.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, and the memory of the guide’s presence pressed against him, a weight both terrifying and comforting. He couldn’t name what it was. Relief? Fear? Recognition? Every emotion tangled into one knot in his chest. The lightest touch of a hand, the modulated voice, the way the words had landed like truth itself, they had unsettled something deep within him, something he had buried beneath expectation and performance for years.

The sensation lingered, like an afterimage burned onto his nervous system. He got out of bed, moving through the apartment on autopilot, brushing his teeth, showering, dressing. Each step felt disconnected, as though he were watching himself from the outside. When he tried to analyze the experience, to put it into words, he failed. Every attempt dissolved into a quiet, gnawing obsession: Who was that? Why did it feel like… home? Why did I want more?

He barely noticed the world beyond his apartment. The city hummed along, oblivious, and he drifted through it as though behind glass. A barista at the café smiled at him, a classmate waved in passing, and he barely registered them. His thoughts kept returning to the private room, to the soft insistence of guidance, the unspoken permission to exist as himself.

By mid-morning, Elias sank into a chair at his dining table, hands wrapped around a mug of lukewarm coffee, trying to ground himself. The memory was intoxicating. It wasn’t just the touch, not just the words, it was the permission to breathe, to be, to let the carefully constructed walls fall for a moment without consequence. That fleeting permission had left a residue he couldn’t ignore, and it scared him as much as it thrilled him.

He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. The thought of calling the club, of seeking out that guidance again, made his stomach tighten with anticipation. But he didn’t. He couldn’t yet. He needed time, space, a way to understand why this felt necessary, why his chest ached with both longing and fear. The addiction the word hadn’t formed in his mind, but the pull, the compulsion to return, was undeniable.

Even as he tried to occupy himself emails, half-hearted coursework, scanning articles, the guide’s presence lingered at the edges of his awareness. Every movement of the hand, every inflection of the voice replayed unbidden. He shivered without realizing why, a thrill and a tension intertwined, pulling him toward a reality he wasn’t ready to articulate.

By evening, Elias realized he had stopped noticing time. The city outside continued, indifferent to the awakening storm inside him. He collapsed onto his bed, curled around the memory of a stranger who had somehow dismantled his careful armor in less than an hour. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to yet. But somewhere, deep in the core of him, he knew he wanted more.

Alexander pov

Alexander didn’t sleep. Not really. Not since the door had closed behind Elias, not since the weight of that presence had pressed into him in ways no other guest had. He had returned to his private observation suite, pacing silently, replaying every movement, every pause, every tremor in Elias’s body as if memorizing it might make him tangible in some permanent way.

Every frame of security footage became evidence, proof that Elias had existed in this space, that he had been vulnerable, that he had surrendered even a fraction of himself. Alexander’s chest tightened each time he saw it, how the shoulders slumped, how the eyes darted, how the hands fidgeted when the words became too heavy. He wanted to reach through the screen and hold him, guide him, protect him. And as much as he told himself it was about safety, a more possessive thought crept in and refused to leave: I don’t want anyone else guiding him.

He watched Elias pace in the private room, small gestures amplified in his mind: the nervous tuck of hair behind an ear, the faint quiver of his voice, the way he exhaled when a touch finally grounded him. The guide’s mask obscured everything, but Alexander didn’t need to see the face to feel the connection, to know that Elias responded. Every instinct in him demanded intervention. Every rational thought warned restraint.

By mid-morning, Alexander had made a decision. Dangerous. Risky. Reckless by the standards of the club he had built. But he convinced himself it was necessary. Protection. Guidance. Understanding. And perhaps though admitting it aloud made his pulse spike possession. The line between intent and desire blurred, and he didn’t care to separate them. Not yet.

He contacted Vincent. “Assign me to him personally,” he instructed, calm and authoritative. “He’s a first-timer. I want to ensure the session is handled. No one else.”

Vincent hesitated, scanning the schedule. “That’s… unusual. You don’t normally—”

“Do it,” Alexander said sharply. There was no room for debate. Not with Elias. Not with this.

As the day stretched on, Alexander returned repeatedly to the footage, noting every glance, every shiver, every hesitant movement Elias had made in the room. Each replay deepened the fascination, the compulsion. He tried to distract himself with business calls, yacht planning, media appearances, but nothing stuck. Elias occupied the center of his attention, a gravitational pull he could not resist.

When he allowed himself a rare moment of reflection, he admitted the truth. He wasn’t merely ensuring safety. He was claiming a connection before anyone else could. Before anyone could define Elias, before anyone could misinterpret the fragile courage he had shown. Protection was a pretense. Possession was the reality he didn’t yet name aloud.

Even in solitude, Alexander’s mind circled back. Would he approach gently? Or would he assert control in subtle ways, testing boundaries without violating them? Could he guide without overstepping? The questions were both clinical and feral, careful and reckless.

By nightfall, he had made the arrangement. The decision settled over him like a weight he both cherished and feared. He would remain Elias’s guide, not just tonight, not just as duty, but because the alternative, the thought of leaving him vulnerable to the unknown, was unbearable.

He stared at the city lights beyond the club walls, pulse still racing from every detail of Elias’s first session. The thrill, the ache, the impossibility of containing it all they coiled tightly in his chest.