Chapter 11

As the contented hum of their shared orgasm faded, a gradual descent from the exhilarating heights set in. Hunter's body was languid in the aftermath. His muscles relaxed, and his breath slowed to a steady, calming rhythm.

With Ethan's taste in his mouth, the world around him took on a gentle, hazy quality. He watched Ethan move and noticed how his earlier fluid grace was replaced by a more languid pace. It was like watching the slow retreat of the tide, leaving behind the deep, indelible impressions of their shared experience in the wet sand of his consciousness.

When Ethan rose from the bed, Hunter allowed him to take him into the shower stall. The man must be a mind reader. Beneath the hot-water jets, they explored each other's bodies with calm and patient strokes.

Despite the mother of all orgasms only minutes ago, a tingling began at the base of his neck. While he wasn't in the mood for more sex, his cock nevertheless swelled. With his hands covered in suds, he reverently washed Ethan's body, lingering on each and every tattoo. He also discovered a few scars. The man's skin was like a book in a foreign script, and he needed to know, touch, and understand.

Taking extra care, he washed Ethan's firm buttocks, neatly trimmed groin area, and his heavy sack and cock. Despite being flaccid, Ethan still packed a solid couple of inches and Hunter grinned when the flesh hardened beneath his strokes.

"You like the effect you have on me, don't you?" Ethan rumbled.

"I do." Hunter licked over the tip for good measure, and chuckled when Ethan curled his hands beneath Hunter's armpits and yanked him upright.

"My turn." Ethan pressed a hard kiss to his mouth before spinning Hunter around and pushing him against the shower tiles. Hunter braced himself as Ethan's fingers traced the paths pain and pleasure had carved just hours before. Hunter almost jumped as a sharp slapping sound preceded a searing heat in his right ass cheek.

Ethan gripped the rounded flesh in his hand and squeezed. Hard.

Jesus .

A hot mouth suckled on Hunter's earlobe, and he had to lock his knees to prevent his legs from giving out.

With a sharp nip, Ethan released his ear and whispered, "I love leaving my marks on you, but there's time for more later. Let's go home."

After drying, they collected their clothes. Hunter had never taken this long to get dressed. The process was constantly interrupted by heated glances and fleeting touches, each small contact reigniting the sparks.

After tidying the room and gathering their belongings from the locker, the air around them was thick with unspoken words and simmering tension. Hunter felt the weight of each glance from Ethan, heavy with meaning and promise, like sparks waiting to catch fire. As they moved together, they kept the night's intensity alive in the space between them.

Hunter's senses were acutely tuned to Ethan's every move: the way his shirt clung to his shower-heated skin, the occasional whiff of the shower gel blended with Ethan's unique scent, and the deliberate, yet seemingly casual brushes of contact. Each touch sent a shiver down Hunter's spine and a longing through his body that was hard to ignore.

After the intensity of their scene at Thorns their scene had woven a silent agreement between them. As the Master in their relationship, Ethan would guide, and Hunter would follow. Not blindly obedient but handing over the reins, nevertheless.

As they gathered their things, Ethan's heart raced with exhilaration and openness. In that quiet moment, Ethan knew he would do anything to protect Hunter. An overwhelming desire to be the strength Hunter needed made Ethan's chest tighten. Ethan wanted to shield Hunter from any harm, physical or emotional. He felt a responsibility, not just as a partner in their scene but as someone who now held a piece of Hunter's trust and vulnerability in his hands.

As they stepped out into the cooler night air, Ethan gently, but with determined care, steered Hunter away from his motorcycle. He could feel the slight tension in Hunter's body at being led, but it melted away under Ethan's firm, yet reassuring grip.

At his car, Ethan opened the passenger door and helped Hunter settle into the passenger seat. Ignoring the man's scowl, he fastened Hunter's seatbelt and kissed the angry expression right from his face, before walking to the driver's side and sliding in.

"You're not steady enough on your feet to drive your Harley, Crosscut, but you have choices—your home or mine?"

Hunter considered the question so long Ethan almost didn't expect him to answer.

"Yours, Sir."

The drive back to Ethan's apartment was enveloped in a quiet that was both comfortable and charged with the energy of their shared night. The confined space of Ethan's car wrapped them in an intimate cocoon, isolating them from the outside world. The engine purred, and the windshield wipers swiped against the gentle drizzle. Driving home with Hunter beside him was as mundane as it was out of the extraordinary.

He never took a sub home with him, never even considered it, but with Hunter, it felt like second nature.

As they approached Ethan's apartment complex, the stark, modern lines of the building cut through the night like a sentinel. It was a fortress in the urban sprawl, equipped with the latest security measures—keypad entries that required passcodes, surveillance cameras that monitored every corner, and a twenty-four-hour concierge whose eyes missed nothing. This place was Ethan's haven, designed to shield him from the unpredictability of the world outside. The rent was exorbitant, but Ethan didn't require much, and he allowed himself this indulgence.

In the quiet, well-lit parking garage, the soft beep of the car locking underscored the transition from the untamed energy of their night to the controlled calm of his personal sanctuary.

Inside his apartment, Ethan watched Hunter take in the minimalist decor and carefully organized spaces. He wondered what Hunter made of his meticulously controlled environment, whether it felt like a sanctuary or a cage to him.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" Ethan broke the silence.

"No, thank you, Sir," Hunter replied, the resonance of their scene still coloring his tone.

"Ethan is fine."

Hunter blinked.

"You don't need to observe protocol all the time, I'm not a twenty-four-seven Master."

"All right." A smile broke free on Hunter's gorgeous face. "Ethan." He stepped closer and interlinked their fingers. "To be honest, I'm dead tired."

Ethan nodded, as the fatigue of the night's emotions settled over him. "Let's go to bed. We both need sleep." His voice carried an unspoken promise that sleep was just one of the many needs they would tend to together.

On the way to his bedroom, the invisible thread connecting them pulled taut and drew them irresistibly together.

In the sanctuary of his bedroom, the walls they had built around themselves began to crumble, replaced by the intimacy between them. More than the sexual release, Ethan craved the human connection with this strong man, who was resilient enough to allow himself to be led without losing his inner strength.

Before he let himself drift off to sleep, spooning Hunter from behind, Ethan admitted to himself, he might just be falling for this incredible man.