All Chapters of Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The last of the staff trickled out, throwing Asher curious, sympathetic glances as they left. Soon, the only sounds in the vast, empty club were the distant hum of the refrigeration units and the frantic, ragged beat of Asher’s own heart.He was wiping down the same spot on the bar for the third time, his movements jerky and mechanical, when he felt a presence behind him. He didn’t need to turn. He knew who it was.“Asher.”Dominic’s voice was flat, devoid of the anger Asher had expected. It was worse. It was the calm, cold tone of a judge about to pass sentence.“Mr. De Luca, I—”“Don’t,” Dominic cut him off. “Don’t speak. Don’t make excuses. Just come with me.”He didn’t grab Asher or push him. He simply turned and walked toward the backroom, fully expecting Asher to follow. And Asher did. He felt like a marionette with its strings pulled, his feet moving of their own accord, carrying him toward the fate that awaited him.The backroom was dark, lit only by a single bare bulb hanging

Time in the backroom stretched and warped, each second an eternity of thick, suffocating silence. Asher’s breath hitched in his throat, his body frozen against the stack of bar mats. Every nerve ending was alight, screaming. Stay here. Don’t make a sound. Dominic’s command was a lifeline in the storm of his fear, the only thing holding him to the spot.From the main room, he heard a muffled voice—Viper’s, oily and arrogant. “Come on out, De Luca. I just want to talk. About your bartender.”A low growl was Dominic’s only reply. Then, the distinct, sickening sound of a struggle. A heavy thud, like a body hitting a wall. A pained grunt. Asher’s hands flew to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles to stifle a cry. He should do something. He should call the police. But his phone was in his locker, and his feet were nailed to the floor. He was trapped, a helpless spectator to a violence that felt both terrifying and intimately his own fault.Another thud, this one wetter, more final. Then,

Living with Dominic was an exercise in sensory adaptation. The penthouse was quiet, a stark contrast to the constant thrum of the club. The air was always clean, scented faintly with the sandalwood and bergamot of Dominic’s cologne. The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows was breathtaking, a panoramic vista of the city that made Asher feel like he was living on top of the world, in a gilded cage designed just for him.The first few days were a blur of new rules and adjustments. His clothes were replaced with a new wardrobe of soft, neutral-toned fabrics—cashmere sweaters, worn-in denim, simple cotton t-shirts—that Dominic had selected. All of it fit him perfectly. His old life was packed away in boxes that arrived and were stored in a spare room without him ever having to see them.His new role as Dominic’s “assistant” was a joke, and they both knew it. He spent his days in the office with Dominic, a large, sleek space dominated by a massive mahogany desk. Asher’s job was to be pre

"What? Brothers?" He said it like it tasted wrong. "We met five minutes ago, Tyler. I don't feel very brotherly toward you."The tension in the room shifted, thickened."What's that supposed to mean?" My voice came out more breathless than intended.He pushed off the doorframe, walked into my room uninvited. Sat on my bed like he owned it. "It means I'm trying to figure you out.""Nothing to figure out." I turned back to my suitcase, needing to look anywhere but at him. "I'm just here for the summer. Then back to school.""Where you're studying...?""English Literature. Junior year.""Ah. The artistic type." I heard the smile in his voice. "I should have guessed. You have that look."I spun around. "What look?"He stood, and suddenly he was right there, close enough that I could smell his cologne something cedar and masculine that made my head swim."Sensitive. Observant." His eyes dropped to my mouth for just a second. "Beautiful."My breath caught. "You can't...we're...""Not relate

His mouth moved to my ear, his breath hot and wet against my skin. "Say it, Tyler. I need to hear you say it. Beg me.""I want you to touch me. Please." My voice cracked with desperation."Please what?" His fingers dipped again barely touching my hard cock, teasing, torturing. "Say it properly."My breath hitched, hips arching into his touch that wasn't nearly enough. "Please, sir. Touch me. I'm begging you."He groaned, and something in his control snapped. "Your room. Now. Move."It wasn't a request. It was a command.He grabbed my wrist and pulled me down the hallway, his grip possessive. We moved quickly, quietly, both hyperaware of his mother and my father sleeping just down the hall. The danger of it, the wrongness, made my pulse race even faster.We reached my room. I fumbled with the door, hands shaking so badly I could barely turn the handle. Finally got it open. We slipped inside, and I locked it behind us with a soft click.Dante didn't give me time to think.He backed me a