Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 104

Chapter 104

Aiden

Never before had I felt such overwhelming pride for him. Not when he scored that winning goal on the field, not when he stood his ground against his teammates, and certainly not even the first time he knelt at my feet. None of those moments came close to the intensity of this one. My chest tightened with a fierce ache—a desperate, consuming urge to hold him close, to press my lips to his, to never let him slip away from my embrace.

God, I was so utterly lost.

Backstage, far from the deafening cheers of the crowd, he was stripped of all pretense. His mask was gone. His soft curls, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead. His body trembled lightly but radiated warmth as he curled up against me beneath the weight of a thick blanket. He was still caught in that delicate, precious haze they called subspace—soft, vulnerable, and utterly trusting in a way that shattered me from the inside out. He clung to me as if I were the very air he breathed, his face nuzzled into my chest, fingers clutching at my shirt like letting go would cause him to unravel completely.

After a while, he stirred, blinking up at me with eyes glazed and glassy. “Hey, baby boy… there you are,” I whispered, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, and finally to his lips, now dry from the intensity of his experience. I reached for a bottle of water and held it to his lips. He drank in small, careful sips before his hands began to tremble too much to continue. I set the bottle aside, my gaze never leaving him.

“Did I… did I do good?” His voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and tentative, and it broke something inside me.

My heart softened, melting under the weight of his vulnerability. I cupped the back of his head, pressing a tender kiss to his temple. “You were perfect, my boy. You did so well for me.”

His lips parted slightly, breath shaky and uneven. “How good?”

I kissed him again, tracing the line of his jaw, then down the curve of his throat. “So good,” I murmured against his skin, tasting the mingled salt of sweat and tears. “So fucking good.”

A sound escaped him—half a sigh, half a sob—and I gently urged him to turn over. He obeyed without hesitation, still pliant and trembling beneath my touch. I reached for a small tube of soothing oil, reserved for aftercare, and began to massage it slowly into the heated skin of his ass and thighs. Each mark was a story, a memory of discipline that deserved care and attention. My hands moved with reverence, steady and sure, even as my eyes drank in the sight of him laid open before me.

I parted his cheeks, my fingers sliding between them, and felt the twitch that made my cock harden instantly. He turned his face away, burying it in his arms, cheeks flushed and body shivering.

The door creaked open.

Hale stepped inside, his presence filling the small room with the same commanding weight he carried in the hall. “Is he alright?” he asked quietly.

“He’s fine,” I replied without looking up, my hand steady as I stroked the oil along Noah’s tender skin. “He just needs comfort. And care.”

I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t hide what was mine.

Noah shivered, overwhelmed, his body tense under my hand—but he didn’t resist. He didn’t ask me to stop. Instead, he surrendered, even to the shame of being so exposed. I slid a finger inside him, slick with oil, stroking and massaging, offering more than just healing—giving him the reward he deserved. His breath caught, his body twisting beneath me as the tension drained away and I worked him open.

Tears still streaked down his cheeks when he reached blindly for my hand. I took it, letting him grip it tightly while my other fingers continued their gentle movements, coaxing and caressing.

“You took your punishment so well in public, my boy,” I whispered into his ear, curling over him, my breath warm against his skin. “Why should it matter if someone watches you receive your reward? Let me take care of you now.”

Had I pushed him too far?

He had trusted me completely. Given me everything tonight—and I had laid him bare in front of strangers. I had let Hale touch him. I told myself it was for his growth, for his strength. But lying awake with him pressed so close, all I felt was the sharp sting of worry. Regret stole my sleep, leaving me staring into the dark, clutching him tighter as if my embrace alone could make it right.

Morning arrived too quickly.

I moved carefully, quietly, giving him space even though every fiber of me wanted to hold on. I made breakfast, set it before him, and asked him to join me before he left. He obeyed, still silent, his gaze unreadable. He ate without a word, and I mirrored his quiet, hoping the calm would soothe rather than widen the distance between us.

When it was time to go, he lingered by the door. Pausing in front of me, hesitant, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. So close to saying something. So close to pulling me back—or tearing me apart.

I waited, heart pounding fiercely, fear clawing at me that he might say the words I dreaded—that he regretted me, regretted this, regretted everything we had.

Instead, I looked down, my voice low and steady, pretending I wasn’t breaking inside. “I’ll see you at practice.”

Then I let him walk away.

Hoping with everything in me that I hadn’t just ruined it all.