Chapter 5

In the calm aftermath of the night, Ethan sank down on the huge grey sofa in his living room. Beyond his windows, a storm brewed and charged the atmosphere. His body still resonated with the echoes of Top-space, that transcendent rush where every nerve felt electrified, where his pulse beat a powerful rhythm under his skin. He was descending now, coming down from the high that domination always left him with, a slow, spiraling journey back to earth.

The weightlessness of the experience lingered and wrapped a warm afterglow around him like a blanket. His body tingled from head to toe, a gentle, persistent reminder of the power he'd wielded, the control he'd exerted. His stomach fluttered, not with nervousness, but with a deep, resonant satisfaction that seemed to expand his chest and make his heart race all over again.

The deep blues and soft grays of his apartment seemed more vivid, as if he was seeing it through a lens of heightened clarity.

This mental journey was interrupted by flashes of Hunter's face. Those hazel eyes that had shown a vulnerability Ethan had never anticipated. The memory brought a different kind of tingling surge, starting deep in his core and spreading outward, making his cock swell.

With a low curse, Ethan widened the stance of his feet and shoved his hand in his pants.

His mind replayed the scene with Hunter, the way his commands had shaped their encounter. He gathered some of the liquid gathering at the tip of his dick, remembering he'd done the same with Hunter's. His hand jerked, gripping the base of his cock in an almost punishing grip and easing off on the pressure when he neared the tip. His heartbeat sped up as pleasure surged through him like a torrent as he came all over his hand and lower belly.

Ethan leaned back, his eyes drifting closed as he allowed himself to catch his breath before reaching for the tissues to clean up most of the mess.

Damn, I haven't come this hard in a very long time.

A smile crept onto his face as he remembered the way Hunter had looked at him, the intensity of their connection that promised so much. Then flashes of their conversation echoed in his mind, the way their wants and needs had aligned so perfectly, as if the universe had conspired to put them on the same path.

As he basked in the afterglow, Ethan found himself making mental plans, not just for his next scene, but for how he might once again cross paths with the biker. The thought of acting like strangers, or worse, enemies, seemed impossible now that he knew how sweet Hunter's submission tasted.

Standing on trembling legs, Ethan stumbled to the bathroom and took a short, but scalding-hot shower. Once again, his hand drifted to his cock, as he remembered the naked biker, his glorious body on display for him to use. The pull toward Hunter was irresistible, a rapture that promised more than just shared desires—it hinted at a connection that could transform them both. Bracing himself against the damp tiled wall with his left hand, his dominant one sped up to wrench another orgasm from his insatiable cock.

As dawn crept through his curtains, casting a soft light across the room, Ethan found himself more exhausted than when he'd first lain down. He'd tried to find solace in sleep, seeking refuge from the relentless replay of memories that danced behind his closed eyelids. But last night rest proved elusive; his mind was a tumultuous sea. And wave after wave crashed against the shores of his consciousness with the vivid intensity of dreams that seemed determined to keep him tethered to the edge of wakefulness. Every hour, like clockwork, he awoke with a start, disrupting the fragile peace of slumber and leaving him staring at the ceiling in the dark, his heart racing and his skin tingling.

Kicking off his blankets, Ethan stumbled into the bathroom to answer nature's call and shower away the night's sweat.

If only it was as easy to wash away lingering thoughts.

Never one to procrastinate, he gulped down a coffee and tackled his household chores with a mechanical precision that was usually comforting. But today, his movements were sluggish, his mind still ensnared by the residual fog of his dreams.

The simple act of making his bed became a laborious task with each fold of the sheets reminding him of the way Hunter's clothes had clung to his powerful frame before he took them off.

In an instant, he was back at Thorns & Roses, under the dim, sultry lighting, staring into Hunter's hazel eyes. Those deep pools had revealed a vulnerability Ethan had never expected to witness. The shock of seeing the rugged biker in such an unexpected context still sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. Memories of Hunter's strong body yielding under Ethan's mastery, sent blood rushing south, and Ethan quickly finished tidying his bedroom.

Moving on to the bathroom, he grabbed a sponge and began to scrub at the tiles. The repetitive motion usually soothed him, gave him space to think. But now, every stroke only served to replay the moment their eyes had locked, the world around them fading into insignificance. The elation that had bubbled up in his chest was hard to ignore, the way Hunter's gaze had held his, intense and revealing. As he cleaned his shower stall, his mind kept drifting and his eyes kept straying. The control he prided himself on dissolved like the water that poured through the drain. His hands moved, but his thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the ‘what ifs' and ‘could bes' that last night had sparked.

Shaking his head, he rinsed off the suds from the tiles.

They'd talked, sharing pieces of themselves over the noise of the club. The more Hunter revealed, the more Ethan realized how much their desires aligned.

Bathroom done, he dragged the vacuum cleaner across the living room rug. Ethan's grip on the handle tightened. His mind wandered to what he'd truly wanted to do—pull Hunter aside, away from the prying eyes to a secluded corner where he could explore the biker's limits and his own.

Ethan paused, the vacuum idling at his feet, and let out a deep, steadying breath. He looked around at his apartment, at the life of order and routine he built.

"I need a cold shower," Ethan muttered to himself as he turned off the vacuum. "How can I focus on this when every part of me is still there, in that club, in that moment?" The question hung unanswered as he leaned against the couch. The soft fabric against his back was a poor substitute for the warmth of another.

Pushing off from the couch, Ethan continued his chores, but his mind remained a captive of the possibilities the night at Thorns & Roses had opened.

The question of what came next hung heavy in his mind. Would Hunter return to the club? They hadn't exchanged numbers, no tangible promises had been made, only the unspoken connection that neither could deny. Ethan's brow furrowed as he considered the frustrating possibility of running into Hunter on the street, having to don the masks of strangers, or worse, enemies.

For now, though, Ethan knew he had to wait, to live in the memories of that night until fate decided their next meeting. As he put away the cleaning supplies and glanced around his now-spotless home, he realized that no amount of domestic order could tidy his inner turmoil.