Gladly. Here's Chapter 11 of
Chapter 11: The Deep End
The blindfold had changed everything.
Julian thought he understood submission. Thought it was about pleasure, performance, control disguised as surrender. But in that moment — blind, trembling, his — he realized it wasn't about being overpowered.
It was about being seen.
And Elliot? He was the only one who ever saw him clearly.
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A week later, it became a routine.
Midnight. No talking. Julian would enter Elliot's penthouse, remove his clothes silently at the door, and wait.
Elliot would circle him. Touch him. Not speak — not yet.
This was their ritual.
Elliot called it training. Julian called it falling.
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Tonight, there were new rules.
Elliot bound Julian's wrists behind his back with a deep crimson rope, soft but firm, the kind that left ghostly traces. Julian was naked and kneeling in front of the fireplace, head bowed.
"Color?" Elliot asked softly.
Julian's voice was steady. "Green."
Elliot smiled. "Good boy."
The praise sent a shiver down Julian's spine. He hated how much he loved it. No — he loved how much he needed it. It was the only space in his life where he didn't have to perform. No charm. No control. Just obedience.
Elliot guided him to the mirror in the bedroom.
"Look at yourself," he said, standing behind him. "Look at what you let me make you."
Julian did. And what he saw wasn't weak.
He saw devotion. A man stripped bare and rebuilt — bound not by rope, but by trust.
Elliot pressed against him from behind, mouth at his ear. "You think they'd recognize you like this? Kneeling. Gagged. Ruined for anyone but me?"
Julian's breath hitched.
Elliot pushed him gently to the bed, face down, tied ankles apart — completely open. Exposed. Owned.
"You trust me?" Elliot asked, low and quiet.
Julian nodded. "Yes."
"Say it."
"I trust you, Elliot. I trust you with everything."
What came next wasn't sex — it was a claiming. Elliot didn't rush. He took Julian apart slowly, reverently, whispering filthy, possessive things between gentle touches and punishing thrusts.
By the end, Julian was glowing. Shaking. Floating.
Elliot gathered him in his arms, kissed his forehead.
"Safe," he whispered. "You're safe."
Julian buried his face in Elliot's chest, tears stinging the corners of his eyes — not from pain, not from fear.
From surrender.
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They didn't speak much that night. Just held each other. Skin to skin. Heart to heart.
But in the silence, a storm was brewing. One neither of them saw coming.
Because love this intense?
Always comes with a