(Noah's POV)I stood there, blinking. Maybe too many times.Did he just say—?Lucien tilted his head slightly. “Strip, Noah.”My brain glitched.I didn’t move at first. I just stared at him, caught between confusion and alarm. That one word had yanked the ground from under me.Strip?He didn’t sound angry. Or eager. Just…expectant. Like it was the most normal request in the world. Like asking someone to hand over the salt.But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even swallow the lump in my throat. There was a pressure tightening around my chest like an invisible string being pulled."I…" My throat burned. “I’m not having sex with you right now. We—we agreed to take it slow. On my own terms.” The words came out flat and fast, and maybe a little shaky at the end. “If you wanted to… you could’ve, I don’t know, given me a heads-up or something so I could prepare—”“Sex?” Lucien cut in, one brow raised, a smirk ghosting over his mouth. “You have high expectations.”That made my brain short-circuit
(Noah’s POV)I don’t know what time I woke up. It was bright outside, but not too bright. The kind of light that slips through the window and gently licks your eyelids, not enough to burn, just enough to tug. The bed smelled like Lucien — leather and something darker underneath, like a storm caught inside silk. Okay, that doesn't make sense but it also doesn't make sense how my bed smelled like Lucien and we didn't spend the night together or something like that.I stretched. Groaned. Blinked at the ceiling.And smiled.That… wasn’t supposed to happen.I never smile in the morning. Especially not when my thighs are sore and my knees remember what floor tile feels like.But today, my body didn’t ache in the bad way. It felt warm. Settled. A little floaty, like I was still underwater. Still in that headspace from last night. Safe.I pulled the hoodie tighter around me and stepped out into the hall, unsure if I was even allowed to just wander.Lucien was already seated at the breakfast t
(POV: Third Person Limited (Noah)Lucien didn’t bring him back to the room immediately.That morning, Noah woke up to sunlight streaming across his sheets— the room had a window all along, Lucien didn't just grant it to Noah.There’s plate of toast left on his nightstand, still warm. No note. Just quiet footsteps outside his door, fading.It was the silence that made his chest ache more than anything.He wasn’t sure what they were anymore.He wasn’t even sure what he was anymore.A captive?A roommate?A… pet?His hand moved on its own, fingers brushing over the collarbone that almost held a real collar the night before.Noah didn’t understand what was happening between them — not really — but one thing he knew was this:Lucien didn’t show him that room to scare him.He showed it to prepare him.The invitation came with a knock.Lucien didn’t barge in. Didn’t issue an order.He knocked.And when Noah opened the door, hoodie sleeves swallowed around his hands, Lucien only said one thin
(POV: Third Person's Limited— Noah)“Go to your room, Noah.”Noah didn’t move.Lucien didn’t blink.The air between them was carved sharp—cold marble over raw nerves.Then, Lucien added—quiet, flat, dangerous:“Before I forget how much I enjoy watching you sleep.”Noah swallowed.But he didn’t back down.Not this time.His voice was hoarse, pulled straight from the pit in his chest. “No.”Lucien tilted his head, just slightly.“I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell I’m doing here,” Noah said. “You kidnapped me, tore apart my life, and now you won’t even look at me unless it’s to remind me I’m replaceable?”Lucien’s eyes didn’t flicker. Not once.“And yet,” Noah continued, “you stopped Red from hitting me. You carried me out of the room. You brought me snacks. You—” he exhaled hard, heat prickling behind his eyes, “—you watched me jerk off and didn’t say shit. You just watched. So if I’m a prisoner, then act like it. Chain me up. Punish me. Be the monster I know you are. But
(POV: Third Person Limited – Noah)Lucien hadn’t spoken to him directly in three days.Not a word. Not a glance.Not a threat, not a touch.Just silence — tailored, razor-sharp silence that wrapped the penthouse like a noose.Red was the new middleman.“Lucien said, get this done.”“Lucien wants this hacked by noon.”“Lucien expects you dressed by the time I get back.”“Lucien said this,”“Lucien said that,”Noah had never hated a messenger so much in his life.Especially one who smirked like he knew.It didn’t hurt, exactly.Not in the “boo-hoo, Daddy ignored me” way.It just felt… wrong. Off.Like Lucien had flipped a switch somewhere inside the walls and now the whole penthouse hummed with a different frequency.Like the air itself was punishing him.Noah tried to shake it off.He blasted music. Refused to wear what was laid out for him.Chose socks that didn’t match and spiked his hair higher just to be annoying.No reaction.He unplugged the router for two whole minutes just to s
(Noah's POV)The silence in the penthouse feels staged, like a theatre set waiting for the actors to scream.But there’s no screaming.Not tonight.Just me. And my blanket. And this hoodie I didn’t ask for but somehow can’t take off.Lucien gave me a gun yesterday.Or — no. Not gave. Offered.Like it was a glass of water.Like it was toothpaste.Saying shit like, "You’re mine. You’ll learn to defend what I own."I should’ve made a joke about being a Gucci bag or a poodle in pearls, but…I didn’t.Because my mouth stopped working the moment I saw it —That gun.I don’t even remember what kind. Black, small, smooth. I’ve probably played with the exact one in a game before.But in Lucien’s hand, it looked like something worse.Something ancient.Something that knew me.And that fucking sucks, I don't even know why, like I understand getting scared when we were held at gun point in front of Lucien's apparent law firm, but getting scared when handed a frickin gun? I just don't get it. I do