Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 55

Chapter 55

When I found I could no longer be Aiden—when facing the man I had become was too much—I chose to become someone else entirely.

Mr. A.

In that persona, in that carefully crafted identity, I reclaimed a part of myself. Mr. A gave me a fresh start, a chance to be someone again. Within that space, I could lead with confidence. I could teach, guide, and even help others heal, even if I struggled to mend my own wounds. That’s what I tried to offer Micah.

But Micah wanted Aiden.

And Aiden was gone. Not truly there anymore.

He was swallowed by shame, too afraid to show his face, too broken to try again.

So when Micah looked at me with so much hope, so much love and devotion, I pulled away. I kept him at a distance, pretending I didn’t care. But deep down, I cared more than he could ever imagine.

And in the end, I lost him.

I lost everything.

Now, lying here with Noah in my arms—this bright, fragile boy who already meant more to me than I was willing to admit—I felt a wave of fear crash over me.

Because if I failed him too… if I couldn’t be the person he needed, the one he deserved… I wasn’t sure I could survive that. Not this time.

Noah stirred beside me just as the morning sun filtered softly through the curtains. I watched the warm light caress his skin—golden and tender—and my heart softened.

His eyes blinked open, blue and still heavy with sleep, remnants of exhaustion from the night before.

I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, then his cheek, and finally his lips.

“Good morning,” I whispered quietly.

His breath hitched. “Sir…”

Before he could say more, he suddenly sat up, eyes darting to the clock. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—breakfast. I was supposed to—”

He scrambled out of bed, naked and half-asleep, rushing toward the kitchen.

Then, his voice came back, soft and surprised: “You made breakfast?”

I stepped into the room, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Just this once.”

He turned slowly, disbelief flickering across his face as he looked at the table, already set. Eggs, toast, fruit, coffee—nothing extravagant, but prepared with care.

He took the keys reverently, as if they were something sacred.

“If you arrive before I do,” I said, “you know what to do.”

He nodded slowly, eyes wide with respect.

“Tonight is Friday,” I added. “But on weekdays, it’s better if you go home at night—to avoid questions. And as I mentioned yesterday…”

I stepped closer, my thumb brushing gently along his jaw. “From the moment we became sexual last night, there will be no one but me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

And in that quiet moment, with the sun warming his skin, the keys resting in his hand, and the softness of his submission in his voice, I understood something else.

I wasn’t just stepping into this role as his Dom; I was risking everything.

Not just as a Master…

But as a man.