All Chapters of Sacred Sins; A Dark Erotica Tale: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the windows. The dinner dishes were forgotten in the sink, the television muted in the background. Eli sat on the couch, legs stretched out, Damien curled beside him, head resting on Eli’s chest.‎It should have been peaceful.‎But the silence was heavy, thick with the words they hadn't spoken all week.‎Damien’s fingers traced lazy patterns along Eli’s ribs, his eyes distant, lost in thought.‎“You’re thinking about him,” Eli said, voice low, unreadable.‎Damien’s hand stilled, his body tensing for a breath before he nodded. “Aren’t you?”‎Eli didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed, his gaze fixed on the darkened television screen like it held answers. “He… gets under my skin.”‎Damien shifted, lifting his head, watching Eli with quiet intensity. “It’s more than that.”‎Eli’s lips pressed together, his eyes flicking to Damien’s. “I hate how my body responds to him,” he admitted, his voice rough, begrudging. “It’s li

Zeke’s eyes shifted from Eli to Damien, and for a moment, the full force of his presence turned onto the younger man.‎‎It was like a physical weight pressing down—a quiet, consuming intensity that made Damien’s breath stutter. Zeke didn’t even touch him, yet his gaze stripped him bare, like he could read every secret thought, every hidden craving, every inch of submission Damien tried to keep tucked away.‎‎It lasted seconds… but it was enough.‎Damien’s cheeks flushed, his legs subtly shifting under the table as he glanced down, breaking the gaze. Zeke chuckled softly, the sound low and pleased—he’d gotten his reaction, and he was satisfied.‎‎“Relax, sweetheart,” Zeke said smoothly, gesturing to the couch. “Sit down.”‎Eli remained rooted in place, tense, jaw clenched.‎‎Zeke poured two glasses of juice, sliding one across to Damien with a teasing smile. “Hydrate,” he added, eyes glinting with something unreadable.‎‎Damien accepted it with a small laugh, eager for the distraction. “Thank

‎The air was heavy—thick with unspoken words, sharp edges of longing, and the slow, creeping surrender neither of them wanted to admit.‎‎Eli sat rigid in Zeke's lap, Damien pressed to Eli's back, both their bodies taut, minds tangled in the storm that was Zeke.‎Zeke's eyes, sharp and knowing, drifted between them. His presence alone dominated the space—unapologetic, possessive, simmering with dangerous control.‎“You’re both tense,” Zeke observed, voice low and deceptively calm, like a predator toying with its prey. “We should fix that.”‎Eli opened his mouth, but the quiet authority in Zeke’s tone robbed him of protest.‎Zeke rose to his full height, taking Eli along, extending a hand toward Damien first. "Come."‎‎Damien hesitated for only a breath, his pulse thrumming beneath flushed skin as he slipped his smaller hand into Zeke’s. The warmth of Zeke's palm dwarfed his own, sending a jolt of anticipation straight through him.‎‎Zeke's other hand reached for Eli—a firm grip arou

‎Eli's fingers trembled as he obeyed, peeling away his clothes until vulnerability wrapped around him tighter than fabric ever had‎‎Zeke circled him slowly, like a predator savoring the moment. His gaze devoured every exposed inch, but his touch was patient… waiting.‎“You asked for this, princess,” Zeke murmured, his voice roughened with possessiveness. “You begged me to break you… tame you.” His hand brushed Eli’s cheek, thumb grazing the sharp line of his jaw. “But this time, you choose every step.”‎Eli's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, nodding, his eyes wide with unspoken need‎Zeke retrieved lengths of dark fabric—soft restraints, familiar yet daunting. His movements were deliberate as he secured Eli's wrists, then his ankles—limiting but never cruel, offering structure more than punishment.‎‎The blindfold followed, plunging Eli into darkness, amplifying every sound, every brush of breath across his skin.‎“Breathe,” Zeke instructed, his lips ghosting over Eli's ear. “I’v

The morning sun filtered into the penthouse kitchen, deceptively warm, considering the tension simmering in the air.‎At the dining table, Eli and Damien sat as instructed—stark naked, the cool leather of the chairs sticking to their skin. His little game of power and possession woven into every moment.‎Damien, ever compliant, nibbled on his toast, eyes glittering with shy amusement. Eli, on the other hand, fumed—jaw tight, brows drawn, his discontent radiating like heat off his body.‎Zeke noticed‎“Eli,” Zeke's voice cracked through the quiet like a whip. "To me. Now.‎The room seemed to shrink as Eli pushed his chair back, his defiance battling with the simmering awareness that he liked this—being called out, being owned.‎Zeke’s fingers curled around Eli’s jaw, tilting his face up, his voice low and dark. “You pout, you disobey… I remind you who you belong to."‎“On your knees ,” he said, while he shoved Eli to his knees not giving him much of a choice. Zeke pulled out his ever e