[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice-Chapter 341: Homecoming Heat and Temptation

~Evric’s POV~

He stood up, clapping his hands together. "This calls for a celebration. Since I didn’t lose millions today, I’m taking you out. I’ll call Ben and Miles—we’re hitting the club tonight."

"Wait, no," I cut in immediately. "I need to get back. Zayn is the only one at home, and things are... delicate."

Jude laughed, shaking his head. "He’s a grown man, Evric. Nothing is going to happen to him. I finally managed to pull you out of your shell; I’m not letting you go back this early." He then pivoted, knowing my weakness for professional growth. "Besides, you owe me. Use the rest of the afternoon to give me a proper lecture on how you spotted that fraud. Consider it a mentorship session."

I had no choice. I started lecturing him on forensic accounting and risk assessment, but my focus was fractured. Under the table, I pulled out my phone and accessed the encrypted CCTV feed of the house.

I checked the bedroom—empty. I swiped to the living room and found Zayn. He was curled up on the sofa, mindlessly eating popcorn while staring at a TV show he clearly wasn’t interested in.

As time passed, Jude insisted on taking me to a late lunch. Even as we ate, I kept the live feed open on my lap. I watched Zayn pace. I watched him go to the window every few minutes, looking out at the driveway with a longing that made my chest tighten.

While Jude was talking about market trends, my eyes were glued to the screen. Zayn went into the kitchen and started cooking. When he was done, he didn’t sit down to eat; instead, he pulled a bottle of wine from the rack and poured himself a large glass. Then another.

"Why is he drinking so much on an empty stomach?" I muttered under my breath, my brow furrowing.

"Who?" Jude asked, stopping mid-sentence.

I didn’t even answer him. My eyes were locked on the small screen where Zayn was now sitting at the kitchen island, staring at the front door with a glass of red wine in his hand.

Jude leaned over, tracing my gaze to the phone. "You aren’t even listening to me, are you? You’re obsessed."

"Jude, listen," I said, finally looking up. "Can you and the guys just come over to my place instead of going out? I need to return home. Now."

Jude paused, studying me with a mix of pity and disbelief. "Damn... no wonder he has that kind of hold on you, Evric," he said quietly. "He’s intense under your skin."

"He has that much power because I let him," I countered, my voice low and protective, shutting down any room for negative comments. "I love him, so I allow him to have that space in my life. Now, take me home."

Jude went quiet, realizing I wasn’t joking. It was already evening by the time he pulled his car into my driveway.

The atmosphere inside the car shifted as we turned onto the long, winding road leading back to the house.

Jude gripped the steering wheel, his expression thoughtful.

"Evric," he started, breaking the silence. "I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. About Zayn having too much power over you. It was out of line."

I looked out the window, watching the trees blur past. "It’s okay, Jude. I wasn’t angry, per se. I just didn’t like hearing that coming from you. Out of everyone, I thought you’d understand the nuance of this better, given your own history."

Jude nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the road. "You’re right. I do understand better. I know what it’s like to navigate those waters, especially when your partner is still finding their footing. It wasn’t right of me to simplify it like that. I’m sorry."

"It’s fine," I replied, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly.

A few minutes later, Jude pulled the car into the gravel driveway. The house looked quiet, but the warm glow of the living room lights told me Zayn was exactly where I’d seen him on the monitor—waiting.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door, the cool evening air hitting my face.

"I’ll head back and grab Miles and Ben," Jude said as I stepped out onto the gravel. "We’ll be back in an hour or so. Give you some time to... check in."

"Thanks, Jude. See you in a bit."

I stood in the driveway for a moment, watching him drive out through the gate.

Drawing in a slow breath, I shifted my focus back to the fragile emotional terrain waiting for me inside.

I checked my watch again. I had been gone much longer than I intended, and the guilt was starting to gnaw at me. I walked to the front door, pressed my thumb to the scanner, and listened for the heavy thud of the deadbolt retracting.

The house was silent, bathed in the soft glow of the kitchen pendants. I found Zayn sprawled across the couch, an almost empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. He slept heavily, his chest rising and falling in the slow, unsteady rhythm of someone who’d had one too many.

I didn’t wake him immediately. I knelt beside the sofa, looking at his peaceful, slightly flushed face. I leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. He stirred at the touch, his eyes fluttering open and landing directly on mine.

He didn’t stir, just smiled, a lazy, wine-softened grin. "You always smell so good," he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Likewise, baby," I murmured, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone.

He let out a soft chuckle, sitting up slowly with a small wince. "You were gone way too long."

"I know. I’m so sorry, baby. The meeting ran longer than I expected."

He leaned back against the cushions, letting out a soft sigh. "It’s okay," he murmured. Then, curiosity edged into his voice. "So... how did the meeting go?"

I gave him a concise summary of the fraudulent business deal I’d helped Jude untangle. He listened quietly, a faint, proud smile tugging at his lips. Reaching out, he gently squeezed my hand. "Good thing my baby is smart," he said.

Then he added, almost proudly, "I cooked."

"Thank you, baby," I said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "But... why did you drink so much?"

He shrugged, his gaze dropping to the empty bottle. "I got bored waiting. I missed you."

"I’m sorry, baby," I said again, but my words died in my throat when I realized Zayn wasn’t looking at my face anymore. His gaze had dropped, focused intensely on my crotch. The wine had clearly heightened his arousal, and the look in his eyes was one of raw, desperate pleading.

I knew that look. My own body responded instantly, but I forced myself to pull back. "We should eat now," I said, my voice a bit strained. "I’m hungry."

"I’ll help you," he offered, but I shook my head gently.

"It’s okay, baby. I’ll handle plating everything. Don’t stress yourself."

We ate in the kitchen, a quiet conversation flowing between us, punctuated by small laughs. But the tension was a physical thing, thick and humming between us. After we finished, I took the plates to the sink.

As I rinsed the dishes, I heard the soft thud of Zayn’s footsteps approaching from behind.

He didn’t say a word, just slid up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing his front against my back. He began to trail hot, wet kisses along the sensitive skin of my neck, his hands wandering over my chest.

I finished the last dish with shaking hands. Before I could turn around, Zayn reached down and slid his hand inside my trousers, his fingers closing around my cock with a firm, possessive grip.

"Evric," he gasped into my ear, using my name with a weight that told me he had reached his absolute limit. "I’m so horny. Please... please have sex with me..."