Page 26 of Body and Soul

Eli shifted slightly, the movement causing his shirt to ride up, exposing a strip of pale skin above the waistband of his jeans. My gaze zeroed in on that tantalizing glimpse of flesh, a sudden hunger sparking to life inside me. I imagined trailing my fingers along that smooth expanse, feeling the warmth of his skin, the shudder that would run through his slight frame at my touch.

The desire that had been simmering in my veins since Eli's arrival surged to the forefront, hot and insistent. I wanted him. Wanted to take him apart, piece by piece. To lay bare his secrets, his scars. To possess him—wholly, completely. Body and soul.

I watched, transfixed, as Eli continued his task, seemingly unaware of my presence. His movements were graceful, almost reverent, as he carefully washed each dish.

As I watched him, my thoughts began to wander down a familiar path. I imagined guiding Eli's hands as he worked, molding his motions to my liking. Teaching him to serve me not just in this, but in all things. The image sent a thrill through me, my cock stirring to life.

I pictured Eli kneeling before me, those haunting eyes gazing up at me with a mix of trust and trepidation. Submitting to my will, his slender body trembling under my hands. The thoughtalone was enough to make me fully hard, my erection straining against my slacks.

I remained in the doorway a moment longer, drinking in the sight of Eli. The domesticity of it all, the sheer rightness of having him here in my home, carrying out this simple task, struck me anew. It was a glimpse of what could be, if I managed to tread the delicate line between guiding him and breaking him entirely.

With effort, I wrenched my gaze away and forced my feet to carry me out of the kitchen, leaving Eli to his work. I needed to clear my head, to regain some semblance of control over the hunger coursing through my veins. The desire to possess, to claim, to conquer.

In my bedroom, I stripped off my slacks and button-down, the clothes suddenly feeling far too constricting. I replaced them with a pair of soft, fitted pajama pants and a snug t-shirt that clung to my chest and arms like a second skin. The fabric did little to hide the evidence of my arousal, my cock still half-hard and clearly outlined against the thin material.

I took a moment to breathe deeply, trying to center myself. But thoughts of Eli continued to swirl through my mind - the graceful movement of his hands, the vulnerability in his eyes, the tantalizing strip of pale skin above his waistband. It all coalesced into a singular, overwhelming need. To touch, to take, to make him mine in every way possible.

When I returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, Eli was finishing up the dishes. He turned to face me as I entered, his eyes widening slightly as they flickered over my body. His gaze lingered a second too long on the way the thin fabric of my pants hugged my thighs, the unmistakable outline of my half-hard cock.

A delicate flush crept into Eli's pale cheeks and he quickly averted his eyes, focusing intently on drying his hands on adishtowel. But I had seen the flash of interest in his gaze, the unconscious way his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“I appreciate you taking care of the dishes, Eli,” I said, as I stepped into the kitchen.

“It’s the least I can do,” he murmured, eyes downcast, his fingers absently twisting the dish towel.

I took a step closer. “You don't owe me anything, Eli. I want you to understand that. You're not here to serve me or earn your keep.”

Eli's hands twisted in the dish towel, his knuckles white. “I know. I just... I want to be useful. To have a purpose.” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with unspoken emotion.

My heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, the way he seemed to be fighting against his own instincts. I recognized the struggle all too well—the war between the desire to submit and the fear of what that submission might mean.

I took another step forward, drawn by an irresistible force. The air between us crackled with tension, the space separating our bodies suddenly charged and heavy. Eli's eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide and uncertain, a hint of something else lurking in them. Anticipation, perhaps. Or fear.

He was close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating off his slight frame, could catch the subtle scent of dish soap and something uniquely him. Clean and sharp, with an underlying sweetness. It made my head swim, my fingers itch with the urge to reach out and touch. To trail along the delicate line of his jaw, to bury themselves in the silken strands of his hair.

“Shepherd, I...” Eli's voice wavered, barely above a whisper. His teeth worried at his bottom lip, the small silver ring there catching the light.

I silenced him with a look, a silent command. He fell quiet immediately, his posture shifting subtly. Shoulders curvinginward, head dipping down. Submitting. The sight sent a dark thrill through me, a rush of heady power.

I slowly lifted my hand, giving Eli plenty of time to pull away. When he didn't, I gently cupped his chin, tilting his face up to meet my gaze. His skin was soft and warm beneath my fingers, his pulse fluttering wildly at the hollow of his throat.

“You're doing so well, Eli,” I murmured, letting my thumb trace the plush curve of his bottom lip, catching lightly on the silver ring. “I'm pleased with your progress already.”

Eli shivered, his eyes slipping half-closed. A breathy sound escaped him, halfway between a sigh and a whimper. It made heat coil tight in my gut, my cock hardening further.

I let my touch linger a moment longer, relishing the way Eli trembled beneath my fingertips. His lips parted slightly, his tongue darting out to wet them, an unconscious invitation. It took every ounce of my self-control not to claim that tempting mouth with my own, to devour him until he was breathless and begging.

But I held back, knowing Eli wasn't ready for that. Not yet. He was still too fragile, too uncertain of his place here. I needed to be patient, to guide him gently into his new role.

“You've had a long day,” I said softly, letting my hand fall away from his face. “Why don't you head to bed? We can talk more in the morning.”

Eli blinked up at me, a flicker of disappointment crossing his delicate features. But he nodded, stepping back and breaking the charged connection between us. “Okay. Goodnight, Shepherd.”

“Goodnight, Eli. Sleep well.” I watched as he turned and padded out of the kitchen, his slim hips swaying slightly with each step. The urge to follow him, to press him into the mattress and map every inch of that pale skin with my hands and mouth, still strong.

I gripped the edge of the counter, fingers pressing hard into the cool marble, grounding myself. Closing my eyes, I slowed my breath. Forced my heartbeat to steady, to stay in control. The hunger Eli evoked in me was practically overwhelming, almost as if…

Keres.

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