Aiden was enjoying the stunning view of the city from the observation deck near the top of the Burj Khalifa when one of the bodyguards approached him and handed him a phone.
Aiden stared at it blankly before realizing that there was a call active.
He brought the phone to his ear and walked away from the bodyguards. “Zain?” he said, because there was only one person who would speak to him on the phone in this country.
“Is everything fine?” Zain’s voice sounded kind of tense and abrupt.
Aiden pressed the phone closer to his ear, as if that would magically bring Zain closer. “Sure,” he said belatedly. “Don’t your bodyguards report to you?”
There was a small pause.
“They do.”
Aiden found himself smiling. “Aw, so you just wanted to hear my voice, right?” He knew he was projecting. If he had a phone, he would have called Zain hours ago, not two hours and twenty-odd minutes later. Not that he’d been keeping track of time or anything. Much.
Zain didn’t dignify that with a response, of course. “The bodyguards said you are at the Burj Khalifa. So cliche.”
“Hey, cliches exist for a reason! And being in Dubai and not visiting the tallest building in the world would be a missed opportunity, wouldn’t it? At least I’ll have something to tell my grandchildren!” Aiden imitated an old man’s voice, “When I was young like you, children, I saw the Burj Khalifa when I was a pleasure slave of the local sheikh—”
“You’re ridiculous,” Zain said, but was that a hint of a smile in his voice? “And I’m not the sheikh. I’m one of his sons.”
Aiden shrugged with a smile. “It’s my story, so I can exercise some creative freedom! I’m sure my imaginary future grandchildren would be less impressed if their grandpa were a pleasure slave of a mere sheikh.”
He fell silent, a feeling of disquiet twisting his gut as he imagined decades passing, having children, then grandchildren, growing old until this misadventure—Zain—would be a distant memory, like something from a dream.
Aiden cleared his throat a few times, trying not to freak out about how much that possible future freaked him out.
“I have to go,” Zain said, his voice rather abrupt. He hung up.
Aiden returned the phone to the bodyguard, feeling a little numb on the inside. A little hollow.
He shook his head, trying to shake the feeling off. “Let’s go to the aquarium, guys,” he said with forced cheer. “It seemed really cool.”
The rest of the day passed in a bit of a haze. Aiden tried to distract himself with cool sights and landmarks, but everything failed to hold his attention, no matter how grand and awe-inspiring the architecture of this city was. The feeling of disquiet in the pit of his stomach grew with every hour until Aiden couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Call your boss, please,” Aiden requested at last. He was tired of sightseeing.
Liar, said the voice at the back of his mind. All you’re tired of is being away from the man who owns you. You’re pathetic.
Shut up. He felt cranky and far too hot. All he wanted was to get home, into his cool, air-conditioned room, and take a long shower. Nothing more.
“I can’t do that,” the bodyguard said, frowning. “We are not allowed to bother the sheikh unless it’s very urgent. He’s a busy man.”
“Don’t worry about it, call him. I’ll take the blame if he’s pissed.”
Looking doubtful, the bodyguard exchanged a few words with his partner. They both looked hesitant, as if it were unthinkable to bother their boss for such an insignificant reason.
“Come on. You can tell him I said it was urgent.”
The men exchanged another look.
At long last, one of them reached for his phone and handed it to Aiden after unblocking it and picking Zain’s contact.
Aiden walked a little away from the bodyguards as he waited for the call to connect.
To his surprise, Zain picked up on the second ring. He said something in Arabic, sounding irritated.
Aiden shivered, enjoying the sound of his low, growly voice probably a little too much.
“It’s me,” Aiden said and smiled when Zain fell silent. “I’m done sightseeing. I wanna go home. Are you done already? Can you pick me up?”
After a moment, Zain said, “Give the phone to the bodyguard.”
Aiden did as he was told and watched the bodyguard as he spoke to Zain. The apprehensive expression on the man’s face shifted to one of surprise. When he hung up, he gave Aiden a suspicious look. “He told us to bring you to his penthouse.”
Frowning, Aiden repeated, “Penthouse?”
“Yes. That’s where the boss lives in the city. It’s in his company’s building.” He exchanged a look with the other bodyguard and said something in Arabic.
The other man shook his head and headed to the car. “Let’s go.”
Zain’s company was located in a skyscraper that was nearly as tall as the Burj Khalifa. But Aiden didn’t have time to admire it before he was rushed into the private elevator by the bodyguards. The security guards gave Aiden some strange looks but didn’t ask any questions—they must have been forewarned.
Once the elevator reached the 134th floor, it stopped. Aiden got out and waved to the bodyguards, who still looked rather perplexed as the elevator doors closed.
Aiden looked around.
For a penthouse, the apartment wasn’t actually gigantic. It was spacious, sure, and the panoramic view it offered was ridiculous, but it had a cozy, lived-in feel to it. The open floor area took most of the penthouse. There was only one bedroom, decorated in white and blue-green, and the floor-to-ceiling windows provided a fantastic view of the Walk and the sea. Aiden was in love.
But he was far too hot.
A quick shower fixed that, and Aiden helped himself to one of the shirts from the closet. He sniffed it, but it didn’t smell of Zain, only of laundry detergent.
Sighing, Aiden went to the fridge. He’d eaten with the bodyguards, but he was a little hungry already.
After carefully examining the fridge’s contents—a lot of the labels were a mystery to him—Aiden found some chocolate ice cream, put it in a bowl, and took it to the terrace.
Evening was falling.
Sprawled on a comfy chaise lounge, Aiden slowly ate his ice cream, gazing at the brilliant lights starting to illuminate the city.
It was really beautiful here.
A bird in a gilded cage, whispered a voice at the back of his mind.
Aiden stabbed the ice cream with his spoon, brought it to his mouth, and chewed.
He wasn’t. He was going home soon.
Are you? Do you really believe that?
Yes, Aiden snapped. Zain promised.
Oh, if Zain promised, his inner voice snarked. Do you even hear yourself? Did he fuck the remaining brain cells out of you?
“Shut up,” Aiden muttered, putting another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.
Look at you. You’re lazing around in this fancy penthouse while your family probably thinks you’re dead.
Aiden’s stomach twisted. That was true. But he was going home soon. A few weeks wouldn’t make a difference to his family. And how could he have contacted them?
You’ve been handed a phone twice today. You could have easily called Mom instead of flirting with Zain over the phone.
Aiden went still, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
It was… It was true. All of it. He hadn’t even thought of calling his family. He could have easily done that. It wasn’t like his bodyguards had been all that watchful while he talked to Zain. It wasn’t like it would have been impossible to slip away from them. But he hadn’t even considered it.
This is a textbook case of Stockholm syndrome. You sympathize with your captor, you don’t want to leave him, and you feel anxious away from him. Run away, you idiot. This is not good for you. He’s not good for you.
Aiden squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bring his chaotic thoughts into a semblance of order. But he couldn’t.
All of it was true. He needed to leave.
But he’d never see Zain again.
The thought was paralyzing. He couldn’t—he couldn’t do it. Not yet. He needed just a little more time. Maybe another week. Yes, another week. And after that, he’d go to the embassy. And then it would be over.
But not yet.
There was the sound of footsteps.
“Aiden?”
He lifted his head and stared at Zain, trying to summon the burning hatred he’d used to feel for him. He used to hate him, right? He used to hate him a lot.
But looking at that hard, chiseled face right now, all Aiden could feel was want. And the want wasn’t just lust; it was much worse than that. Zain’s presence made him feel on edge—and made something in his soul relax. It felt like his skin was too small, crawling with the need to be closer, to feel Zain’s arms around him.
God help him, he wanted a hug right now. A hug. From the man who owned him. It was official: he was an idiot.
Aiden sighed. “I just realized that you Stockholm syndrome’d me.”
His brows furrowing, Zain walked forward. “I don’t know that expression.”
“Google it,” Aiden said with a crooked smile. “I don’t really feel like explaining it to you.”
Zain pulled out his phone and started tapping on its screen.
Aiden laughed. “Are you actually Googling it?” he said, nudging Zain’s thigh with his bare foot.
“Yes,” Zain said, absently catching his foot with his hand, his gaze on his phone.
Aiden shivered, his toes curling at the touch.
“Hmm,” Zain said. “Stockholm syndrome is a coping mechanism to a captive or abusive situation, when the victim develops positive feelings toward their captors over time.” He lifted his gaze, his dark eyes glinting as he met Aiden’s eyes. “Are you saying you developed ‘positive feelings’ for me?”
There was a great deal of mockery in his tone, but his grip on Aiden’s foot was strong and kind of possessive.
Aiden’s face felt far too warm. “Don’t flatter yourself. The only positive feeling I have is for your cock.” He pressed his toes against Zain’s crotch and licked his lips slowly.
Zain’s expression darkened. Shoving Aiden’s foot aside, he spread Aiden’s legs wide and lay down between them. The chaise lounge creaked under their combined weight as Zain leaned forward, looming over him, their unsteady breaths mixing, their erections pressed snugly against each other.
“Is there a name for my predicament?” Zain said, wrapping a hand around Aiden’s throat.
Aiden whined, grinding their cocks together. God, he wanted to come. He wanted to get fucked. He wanted Zain inside him, as deep as possible. “What predicament?” he gasped out, looking at Zain’s firm lips hungrily.
Zain’s jaw worked. He said nothing.
Unable to stand the distance between their mouths, Aiden leaned forward and kissed him. God, it was bliss after half a day apart, Zain’s mouth as hungry and desperate as his own.
The kiss felt more like fucking, as they dry humped through their clothes until Zain finally pushed Aiden’s shirt—his own shirt on Aiden—up, revealing his lack of underwear. Zain growled into the kiss, his hands groping Aiden’s buttocks greedily before retrieving a small bottle from his pocket. He opened it and poured its contents into his hand.
“Is that lube? You came prepared!” Aiden said with a breathless, teasing smile.
Zain scowled at him. “Of course I did,” he said tersely, yanking his pants down and pulling out his erection. “I’ve been thinking of this all day.” He slicked up his cock with a few fast, impatient strokes before nudging it against Aiden’s hole. “I knew”—Zain gritted it out, pressing carefully into him—“I knew I’d end up with my cock in your cunt within minutes of seeing you.”
Aiden moaned, spreading his legs wider. His hole was well used to taking Zain’s cock several times a day, so the stretch wasn’t even uncomfortable. It felt glorious.
“We probably shouldn’t be—ahh—fucking outside,” Aiden said, looking at the darkening sky. Anyone with a pair of binoculars would be able to see them from another skyscraper taller than this one. Luckily, this one was very tall, but still. The risk was definitely there.
“We shouldn’t be fucking, period,” Zain said, biting Aiden’s neck viciously as his hips snapped forward, driving his cock faster and harder into him.
“But it feels so good,” Aiden whispered, closing his eyes and finally losing himself in the glorious sensation of being taken and having this man inside him.
They came together, kissing desperately.
Then Zain lifted him into his arms and carried him inside.
They were too tired and spent to do anything besides undressing and falling into the bed.
Before long, they were asleep, tangled in each other.
