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หน้าหลัก / LGBTQ+ / Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire / บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

บททั้งหมดของ Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

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Zed's Secret Nights

Every television in the city seemed to sing the same name: Zed.His face owned the airwaves, polished, sharp, impeccably composed. The opening bars of the evening news theme might as well have been written as a hymn in his honor. Viewers across the city paused whatever they were doing when that familiar music swelled, turning toward their glowing screens like loyal disciples answering a call to worship.Zed was there. Always there.Viewers trusted him. Adored him.To the city, Zed was the moral compass pointing true north. A reliable constant in a world spinning out of control.Fathers quoted his reports over breakfast. Mothers nodded at his closing statements as if they’d been personal reassurances. Children heard his voice in the background and equated it with adulthood, with certainty, with truth.But none of them knew him.Not really.Behind those camera-perfect smiles and designer suits was something else e
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Zed's Secret Nights: Part 2

Every evening, as the nation tuned in to Zed's velvet voice cascading through the primetime news hour, Nigel stood just off-camera, eyes fixed. Zed was the anchor, a paragon of trust and integrity. But to Nigel, he was far more, he was ritual, he was the pulse of obsession.Nigel was Zed's personal assistant, always composed, always ready, always watching.He adjusted Zed's suit before every broadcast, fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary on the lapels. He knew the weight of that tailored coat, the exact number of heartbeats it took for Zed to give him that nod of readiness. And every time Zed signed off, every time he undid his cufflinks with a sigh, Nigel swallowed.He timed his steps to Zed's. Followed every routine like choreography. When Zed disappeared into his dressing room, Nigel would sneak into the storage lounge, just a wall away. Behind the locked door, his breaths grew shallow. He'd close his eyes and replay it all: the smooth bari
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Zed's Secret Nights: Part 3

The card had no name. Just an address, neatly printed on a silver surface that shimmered under the light. It was unlike anything they'd seen before, but both Nigel and Thanos, pulled by curiosity, desire, and something unspoken, arrived at the gates that night.Nigel arrived first, his steps quiet, careful. The building towered in front of him, elegant and discreet, like a secret too refined to be spoken aloud. He handed over the card to the silent figure at the door and was led inside without a word.Soon after, Thanos showed up, brushing dust from his jacket. He looked unsure, a little nervous, yet stubborn. He too handed the card over and was taken down the same quiet hallway.They didn't speak when they met inside. They couldn't. The moment demanded silence.The room was massive, walls draped in black velvet, candles burning at the corners, shadows dancing across polished floors. But the centerpiece stole everything: a king-sized bed, untouche
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Zed's Secret Nights: Part 4

Zed's eyes slid back to Nigel, his fingers now ghosting across his own chest, slow, uncertain, trying to mimic what he thought Zed wanted. Trying to fill the silence with his own rhythm.Zed clicked his tongue once.Then looked at Thanos again."You're interrupting the view."Thanos' head snapped toward him. "What?"Zed's eyes narrowed, lips barely parting as he spoke again, quieter this time."On the bed."Three words.Thanos froze.The breath in his chest caught like it hit a wall."Don't order me around."Zed's brow lifted, just slightly. "Then go."The dare in his voice was laced with ice.Nigel turned toward Thanos again, gaze softer this time, open, lips parted like he was about to speak but chose not to.Thanos' fingers twitched."You're both freaks."Zed smirked, "Then why are you still here?"The silence answered for him.
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Zed's Secret Nights: Part 5

The tension didn't just thrum, it pulsed. Not a word spoken. Not a command issued. Zed merely leaned back into the leather of his chair, swirling his glass, his robe parted slightly, but he didn't move, didn't blink. Nigel breathed unevenly, his fingers still tingling from where Thanos had touched him. Thanos didn't retreat. He couldn't. There was something in the way Nigel's throat moved when he swallowed. In the way his pupils were blown wide, reflecting the heat in the room. No more pretending. No more play. And Thanos, prideful, brash, always in control, let go. He surged forward. Their lips crashed, not softly, not delicately. Desperate. Starved. Their hands roamed like they'd been waiting too long, fumbling for skin, for friction, for more. Nigel gasped into Tha
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Zed's Secret Nights: Part 6

Zed's glass touched his lips, yet his voice slipped through the rim, calm and cutting like a blade through silk. "Tie him up." No name. No glance. Just the command, and it echoed like thunder. Thanos blinked, already breathless, but something in that voice hit him deeper than sound. His fingers moved before thought could stop them, instinct tangled with temptation. The ropes, soft, silken, and far too eager, slid like serpents across Nigel's skin, coiling in ritual. Wrists behind his back. Ankles bound just enough to stagger his stance. Loops kissed the curve of his waist, chest, thighs, then knotted into a sinful, delicate bow right at the center of his body. A gift not to unwrap, but to admire. Nigel? He didn't resist. He breathed out, a shaky, beautiful offering, as if surrender had always been stitched into his skin. Zed leaned back into the couch, exhaling slowly, the glass clink
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Zed's Secret Nights: Part 7

Zed sat there, slouched now in the throne, like couch, head resting back, lips slightly parted as he watched the chaotic beauty unravel before him. No more commands. No more fingers pointing. Thanos and Nigel had long since stopped seeking permission. They tangled like instinct made flesh, colliding and melting in new ways, discovering uncharted skin, drawing paths across bodies with mouths and trembling fingers, their sounds echoing into rhythm. But Zed, he was the true storm. Silent, yet shaking. The soft clink of the new whiskey glass as it tilted in his unsteady grip broke the tension only for it to rise higher. His fingers tightened, not from anger, but from the unbearable heat surging through him. He sank deeper into the couch, legs stiffening as his toes curled into the carpeted floor. A wave hit, sharp, unpredictable. It dragged him down with a quiet grunt, hips twitching, couch groaning beneath his weight as every nerve in his body lit up.
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The Ghost in my Apartment

Nathan wasn't picky.He wasn't spiritual.And he damn sure didn't care if someone died in the tub or jumped out the window ten years ago.As long as the rent was cheap, the roof didn't leak, and no nosy neighbors banged on his door at midnight asking for sugar, or small talk, he was in.And so, when the landlord smiled with a twitch in his eye and said,"Place comes with… a bit of history,"Nathan only nodded."Does it come with working plumbing?""Yes.""Then I don't care."---The apartment wasn't much.Creaky floorboards, a faint smell of lavender that didn't come from him, and windows that stuck when you tried to open them.But it was quiet.Empty.And more importantly, his.The key fit in the lock with a hesitant click.Like even the door wasn't sure he belonged there.The air inside was stale, like no one had breathed here in a while.Perfect.
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The Ghost in my Apartment: Part 2

Day 6. Nathan had officially stopped pretending things were normal. At first, he’d told himself it was stress. Lack of sleep. Overwork. Maybe even the start of a slow, embarrassing mental breakdown. He’d Googled it, hallucinations from exhaustion, auditory misfires, random muscle twitches from too much caffeine. That was easier to believe than… this. But by Day 6, denial felt pointless. There was no logical explanation for the extra toothbrush sitting in his bathroom cup, the pale blue one that definitely wasn’t his, appearing without fanfare next to his own worn-out green brush. Or the way his favorite hoodie, the oversized black one, kept ending up draped over the armrest, even though he’d left it folded at the back of his closet. And the music. God, the music. It played softly from the old speaker in the living room, warping in and out like a radio stuck between stations. One second, it was
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The Ghost in my Apartment: Part 3

Day 7. Nathan stood in front of the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth like it was any other morning. Shirtless, hair a disaster, sleep clinging to his eyelashes like a lazy fog that refused to lift. His movements were slow, almost robotic, the kind of sluggish pacing that only came after nights spent tossing and turning with too many questions and too few answers.The bathroom light overhead buzzed, again, but that was practically a fixture now, like everything else that had started shifting in his life.He spat, reached for the towel, wiped his mouth, and leaned in toward the mirror, still groggy enough not to register at first what he was seeing.And then he froze.The glass in front of him had fogged.More than it should have.The water hadn’t even run that long, and the air wasn’t warm enough to cause it naturally.No, this… this felt deliberate.Slowly, like a fingertip dragging through condensati
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