Chapter 5: The Sound Of Surrender

He was standing right in front of me. It was already too late to shut the door.

He pushed it open, wide, and let himself in like he owned the place.

I froze, not knowing what to do, but my feet moved before my brain could catch up. I walked toward him, my voice low and tense.

"Why are you here?"

Before I could even finish the question, he was already sitting on my couch, like he belonged there. Like he was my boss.

"You're not welcome here, Evric," I told him firmly.

He just looked up at me, calm and unbothered. "If you want me to leave quickly," he said, "sit down and hear me out. But if you want me to stay longer... keep standing and asking questions."

I hated how composed he sounded. How in control he always was. But I sat. Slowly. And then he patted the seat beside him.

"Sit here."

I hesitated, then gave in. I sat next to him, close enough to feel the heat of his body.

I kept my voice soft. "Why are you here?"

"I came to visit you," he said. "And to take something... in exchange for the suit you ruined earlier."

I scoffed. "There's nothing for you here. Just give me the bill and I'll pay."

He chuckled, that arrogant smile tugging at his lips. "Do you remember who you're talking to? I'm Evric Draeven. Money isn't my problem."

"Then what do you want from me?" I asked, frustration building in my chest.

He looked at me like the answer was obvious. "What I want is simple. And if you want me to stop showing up everywhere… You can't refuse me."

My throat tightened. "What do you want?"

His eyes met mine, sharp, dark, full of heat.

"All of you," he said. "Your voice, your body. This time, I won't settle for just making you fall apart with words. I want to feel you. Fully. Deeply."

I shot up from the couch, my heart thudding. "I'm not interested in your sick, twisted offer."

He stood too slowly, calmly, and controlled. "Okay," he said. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

I clenched my fists. I didn't want to see his face again. Ever. This was becoming too much, too constant, too dangerous. Before he could reach the door, the words left my mouth on instinct.

"Wait."

He turned slowly.

"Who's taking?" I asked. "And who's… giving?"

He tilted his head, like he already knew I knew the answer. "What do you think?"

I looked down, ashamed at how my body was already reacting to the idea.

Of course, I'd be the one giving.

I knew that.

The truth was... I'd never done anything like this before.

But I was desperate to end this madness. To make it stop. So I said it against all logic against all fear.

"Fine," I breathed. "Let's do it."

Not knowing I had just invited a new kind of hell into my life.

Don't know what madness made me say it. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe tiredness. Maybe it was how close his mouth was to mine when he said those words.

"All of you."

The air between us was already too heavy, and when I whispered "Fine," I felt something shift, like a trap quietly closing around me.

He turned, calmly, confidently, then offered his hand.

I stared at it, frozen. His fingers waited, patient but sure, like he already knew I'd take them.

I did.

The moment I touched him, his grip tightened. And just like that, he turned and started walking toward my bedroom. Like it was his place.

My feet followed.

The hallway felt longer than usual. The silence rang in my ears, except for the quiet rhythm of our footsteps on the floor. My pulse was louder than anything. My skin tingled like it already knew what was coming.

When we stepped inside my room, he didn't turn on the light. The city's glow from the window cast a dim silver across everything. It felt unreal. Like I was watching someone else's life.

I stood there, heart pounding, hands shaking.

Evric turned to face me. He looked calm. Like a storm that already knew it would destroy everything in its path.

"Take off your shirt," he said softly.

His voice… it wasn't loud. It was low and firm, soaked in control. That voice curled down my spine and wrapped around something inside me.

I didn't speak. Just obeyed.

I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor. I couldn't meet his eyes. My chest was rising and falling too fast.

He came closer. One slow step at a time.

When he reached me, he touched my cheek, his thumb grazing along my jaw like he was memorizing it.

"You're already shaking," he murmured. "Do you know what that does to me?"

I closed my eyes.

He leaned in. His lips barely brushed my ear.

"It makes me want to hear you break."

I shuddered.

He pushed me gently, and I fell backwards onto the bed.

My knees bent, legs slightly apart. I didn't mean to, but he made it look so easy.

Evric knelt on the mattress, crawling between my legs with slow, dark hunger.

"Tell me to stop," he said. "If you're not ready."

"I'm…" My voice trembled. "I don't want to stop."

His mouth curved. "Good."

Then, I felt his fingers at my waistband. Undoing, lowering, exposing me inch by inch.

The cold air hit me first.

Then his mouth.

A gasp ripped from my throat. My back arched on instinct. "Ah—Evric—!"

He chuckled against my skin. "That's the sound I want. Don't hide it."

His voice. God, his voice was worse than his mouth.

It was velvet over broken glass.

"I want to memorize every sound you make," he whispered as he kissed her lower. "I want to know what you sound like when you're not thinking anymore."

I moaned again, helpless.

When he finally moved back up, his hand gripped behind my knee, pushing it gently aside. I tensed, breath catching in my throat.

He reached between us.

Schlk.

The wet, slow sound of him stroking himself sent another tremor through me.

I turned my face, embarrassed, overwhelmed, burning alive.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine.

"You're going to feel full," he whispered, breathless now. "You'll feel me stretch you… slow… deep."

I whimpered, legs trembling.

Then...

Push.

The first press made me choke on air.

"Ah—nn—wait—Evric—!"

"Shh…" He kissed my cheek. "Breathe through it. I've got you."

His voice… it settled under my skin like a drug. Low. Controlled. Darkly sweet.

He pushed in deeper.

I cried out.

"F-fuck—!"

"That's it," he groaned. "God, Zayn… you feel like fire."

The sound of him filling me—schlk… schlk…was soaked in wet friction and gasps.

He hadn't moved yet. He just spoke again.

"You're perfect," he murmured. "You're taking me so well. You were made for this."

Every word struck my chest like thunder. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak.

"Now…" he whispered, rolling his hips gently. "Let me hear you."

He thrust in fully.

I screamed—loud, messy, undone.

"Ah—Evric! I—I can't—"

"You can," he said in my ear. "You will. And you'll love every second of it."

He started moving, dragging in and out with slow, deep strokes that made me cry out again and again.

Thmp… schlk… thmp…

The sounds were wet, loud, and shameless. My body echoed with them.

I clung to him, nails digging into his back.

"I want you to remember this," he breathed. "Every time you sit. Every time you breathe. You'll remember who made you moan like this."

My body locked.

I was losing myself.

He was inside, his voice was everywhere, and I didn't know where I had ended, and he began.

And worst of all...

I didn't want him to stop.

And he didn't stop. His mouth was on my neck, his voice in my ear.

"Listen to yourself," he whispered. "You sound so fucking sweet when you take me."

My back arched.

He moaned, guttural, broken, like the sound of his control snapping.

"You feel this?" he rasped, thrusting harder now, dragging another cry from my throat. "This is what I wanted. This heat. This sound. Your voice, shaking and soft and mine."

I couldn't speak, I could only gasp, moan, and beg. The bed creaked beneath us. The headboard knocked on the wall. And his voice, his maddening, velvet voice, never stopped.

"Say it again," he groaned, gripping my thighs. "Say you want it... say my name, say you'll let me have you."

"Evric—ah, God—Evric—"

The way he moved inside me was merciless and deep. A rhythm that drove me insane, made me cry out louder, made my body tighten around him.

He leaned down, lips brushing my temple.

"Sing for me, Zayn," he whispered, hips slamming into mine. "Let me hear your surrender."

And I did.

I gave him every sound.

Every gasp.

Every breathless moan that echoed off the walls.

Until we were both undone.

Together.

Mad from the way we took each other.