Sinful Surrender: BL Passion Stories

Elias had never lived with another man before. Not like this. Not with someone like Luca.

The moment he stepped into the apartment, dragging a suitcase behind him, Elias knew his summer semester wouldn’t be ordinary. Luca had been sitting on the kitchen counter, shirtless, sipping coffee like he owned the air. His skin was sun-bronzed and stretched over lean muscle, his arms tattooed, his eyes dark with mischief. He’d smirked, lips curling lazily as he looked Elias up and down.

“You’re early,” Luca said, voice smooth like velvet soaked in whiskey.

Elias cleared his throat and nodded. “Traffic was lighter than expected.”

He tried not to stare, but Luca’s presence was like a flame too close to bare skin. Dangerous. Hypnotic. He turned away, pretending to be interested in the chipped white walls of the hallway, though his chest felt tight and something low in his stomach fluttered.

Days passed, and Elias did everything to avoid what was quickly becoming unbearable tension. He focused on his coursework, filled his schedule with library hours, ran laps around the campus track until his legs ached. Anything to keep his body exhausted and his thoughts clean. But nothing worked.

Luca was always there. Shirtless in the kitchen. Shirtless on the couch. Towel slung dangerously low around his hips as he moved between the bathroom and his room. He had a habit of touching Elias’s shoulder lightly in passing, or letting their knees brush when they shared the cramped loveseat. Always casual. Always brief. Always enough to make Elias twitch.

It wasn’t just the physical part. Luca had a voice that could wrap around a person, slow and low and teasing. He liked asking Elias questions that made him stumble. Personal ones. Invasive ones.

“Ever been with a guy?” Luca asked one night, while they shared takeout from the same container. Elias had nearly choked on his noodles.

“What?” he croaked.

Luca had shrugged. “Just wondering. You’ve got that look. Like you’re curious but scared of what you’ll find.”

Elias had gone to bed that night hard and ashamed.

Now, a week into the new living arrangement, Elias returned home from a late class, already exhausted, already half-hard from thinking about things he shouldn’t. His key turned in the lock, and the door creaked open.

The lights were dim. Music hummed softly from the living room — something low and bass-heavy.

And then he saw him.

Luca was sprawled across the couch in nothing but a towel. His skin still glistened from a recent shower, droplets trailing over his abs and down to where the towel knotted dangerously at his hip. His eyes flicked up lazily when he heard Elias enter, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Luca murmured.

Elias swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Didn’t know you were home.”

“Didn’t know I had to schedule my showers,” Luca said with a grin, stretching his arms above his head, his muscles flexing and the towel hitching even lower.

Elias dropped his bag and tried to look away. He failed.

Luca noticed.

“You’re staring,” he said, voice silk-smooth.

“No, I— I wasn’t.”

“Sure you weren’t.” Luca sat up slowly, planting his feet on the floor. The towel still clung to his waist, but just barely. “Why are you always running away, Elias?”

Elias backed toward the hallway, pulse racing. “I’m not running away.”

“You blush every time I look at you too long. You stammer when I speak. You spend all night avoiding me like I’m a threat.”

“You’re not—” Elias faltered. “I’m just tired.”

Luca stood. He took one step. Then another.

Elias’s back hit the hallway wall.

Luca stopped a few inches away, his chest bare, the scent of his cologne and warm skin wafting between them. He leaned in, eyes dark and slow.

“Tell me to back off,” Luca whispered, voice low and dangerous. “Tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

Elias’s throat tightened. His mind screamed to leave, to move, to say something, anything, but his body was frozen in place, trembling, aching, burning. Luca’s lips hovered a breath away. He didn’t touch him. Didn’t rush.

Elias blinked.

Then whispered, “I don’t want you to back off.”

That was all it took.

Luca moved fast, pressing him hard against the wall, one hand cupping his jaw, the other sliding around his waist. Their mouths met with a force that knocked the breath from Elias’s lungs. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was raw, heated, and filled with weeks of tension snapping like a whip. Luca kissed like he owned him, like he was claiming something long overdue.

Elias gasped when their tongues touched, when Luca bit his bottom lip and s*ck*d it into his mouth. He should’ve pulled away. Should’ve panicked. But all he felt was fire and the desperate need to be touched more.

His fingers gripped Luca’s back. He arched into him. The towel fell.

He didn’t care.

Luca’s hand slid beneath Elias’s shirt, dragging his palm up his trembling stomach, over his chest. His fingers brushed Elias’s nipple, and Elias moaned into his mouth, dizzy and overwhelmed.

“You want this?” Luca asked between kisses. “Tell me.”

Elias nodded, panting. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I do,” Luca said. “Just let me drive.”

Elias bit his lip. His c*ck throbbed in his jeans. His head was swimming.

“Then drive.”

Luca grabbed his hand, dragged it down between their bodies until Elias was touching him. He was hard, hot, thick in his grip.

Elias’s eyes widened. “You’re—”

“I’ve wanted this since day one,” Luca growled, pushing his hips forward. “Wanted to see what that shy mouth would look like moaning for me.”

Elias moaned softly, caught between embarrassment and overwhelming need. His knees buckled, and Luca caught him, lifting him against the wall, grinding into him, lips everywhere — jaw, neck, collarbone.

He was melting. Coming undone.

And the worst part?

He didn’t want it to stop.

Elias woke up sweating.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes darted toward the ceiling fan spinning lazily above. His sheets clung to his skin, tangled between his legs. He pressed a palm against the damp heat between his thighs, the ache pulsing, throbbing, needful. His lips were still swollen. His jaw tingled. His neck stung from where Luca had bitten him—light, but claiming.

He touched the bruise and gasped. He liked it. That terrified him more than anything.

He sat up slowly, heart hammering. He had kissed another man. Touched him. Let him press him against the wall. Let him do things he’d never even imagined in his most private, shameful thoughts. And he wanted more.

The apartment was quiet.

He stood, pulled on a shirt, loose boxers, and padded barefoot down the hall toward the kitchen. Luca wasn’t on the couch. The towel from last night was still on the floor, like evidence. Elias’s cheeks flushed hot. His fingertips grazed the edge of the