Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60

Aiden

The moment Noah stepped onto the field today, I sensed something was off. It was unmistakable. His usual sharp focus was missing, his movements lacked their usual fluid rhythm, and the energy he carried was strangely subdued—something I hadn’t witnessed in weeks. At first, I chalked it up to the pressure of juggling two demanding roles: his quarterback and his dominant. A gnawing fear crept in—the fear that maybe he was growing weary of what we shared, perhaps even of me. But the longer I observed him, the clearer it became that this wasn’t just fatigue or frustration. Whatever weighed on Noah was deeper, more complex, and I couldn’t quite grasp it.

When he arrived late tonight, I didn’t feel anger. Instead, concern settled over me, stronger than any urge to reprimand. Lately, he’d poured himself into everything—training sessions, classes, and the time we spent behind closed doors. I had witnessed his growth, both as an exceptional player and as a submissive whose obedience carried a quiet, intense desire to please me. It wasn’t merely about rules or control anymore. We had built something more profound—a connection, a bond. He’d started opening up to me about his friends, his dreams, even the burdens he carried. I’d hoped tonight would be no different, that he’d share whatever was troubling him. But when I gave him the chance to speak, he shut me out completely.

That silence stung more than I cared to admit. Because with Noah, my goal was never just obedience. It was about life—helping him grow, guiding him through more than just the rituals we practiced in private. I wanted to be his support, to help shoulder whatever weight he bore. But I couldn’t do that if he refused to let me in.

I sat there wrestling with this inner conflict when he finally looked up at me. His eyes—clear, aching, and strikingly beautiful—held mine with a rare, unwavering certainty. And then, for almost the first time, he voiced what he truly needed.

“I need you to punish me, Sir.”

That wasn’t what I expected. Not even close. But in that moment, I knew I would give him exactly what he asked for—even if it meant punishment and pain.

“Come with me,” I said, rising to my feet.

Noah hesitated for a brief second before standing and following me out of the living room. Instead of heading to the bedroom, I led him down the hallway at the back of the house, past the study, toward a door he had never seen me open before.

He remained silent as I unlocked it.

We descended a narrow staircase, my hand brushing the cold railing as we went down. At the bottom, another locked door awaited. I opened it and stepped aside, letting him enter first.

The look on his face made every moment of silence worth it.

Welcome to Mr. A’s world.

The room was dimly lit by amber sconces that cast a warm glow and deep shadows across the walls. Heavy red velvet curtains covered the far wall, muffling sound. The air carried a faint but unmistakable scent—a blend of polished leather, subtle sandalwood, and aged oak.

This space was fully outfitted. Hooks gleamed from the ceiling, catching the soft light. A Saint Andrew’s cross was bolted firmly to one wall, a bondage swing rested in the corner, and a heavy four-poster bed draped in black satin dominated another side. Shelves lined the far wall, neatly arranged with toys, restraints, paddles, whips, and crops—all meticulously cared for despite long periods of disuse. At the heart of it all stood the spanking bench, its black leather padding curved for comfort, polished steel rings fixed at the base and sides for restraints.

Noah’s eyes scanned the room, lingering a moment too long on the cross. “This looks like a medieval dungeon,” he murmured.

I almost smiled at his comment. “The lighting’s better. And fewer rats.”

That earned a small, nervous laugh from him.

“Mercy,” he answered without hesitation.

“Good.” My voice was steady. “Tonight, this isn’t about punishment. It’s what you asked for. But you need to understand—spanking isn’t just about pain. It’s about release. Emotional release. Letting go. Surrendering control to someone you trust and using that to process whatever’s weighing down on you. We use it to work through the things we can’t put into words. To burn away guilt. To remind you of your strength.”

His eyes softened, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

For a long moment, he stood there, breathing as if holding something back. Then, barely above a whisper, he asked, “Will this… make it stop?”

I didn’t ask what “it” was. I didn’t need to.

“It might not stop it forever,” I said quietly, my voice steady. “Not until you fully surrender. But I’ll be here through all of it.”

“And will you… will you stay after?” he murmured.

“Yes, Noah. I’m not going anywhere. For as long as you need me.” I let the promise hang between us before adding, “Tonight, I won’t count. There’s no number. We’ll go as far as we need to go, and when we’re done, we’re done.”

I didn’t realize then how much this would hurt both of us. But there was so much I still didn’t know.