“Such a pretty mess you are.” Lucien said as his eyes ran over Noah's flushed face to his cum painted stomach. Noah whimpered once more, softer this time… exhausted, but glowing in the aftermath of being pushed past his edge. And Lucien is not halfway done with him. Lucien climbed onto the bed, planting his knees on either side of Noah’s hips, caging him in without pressing his weight down. His shadow fell over the boy, sharp and deliberate, every inch of his posture designed to remind Noah who was in control. His hand stretched to the nightstand and he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and uncapped it. He took a swig directly from the bottle and before Noah could draw in a full breath, Lucien’s palm closed around his throat. Not choking, but firm enough to tilt Noah’s head back and haul him up just slightly, just enough. Lucien leaned down, their mouths meeting in the middle. His lips sealed over Noah’s, and he poured the whiskey into the boys mouth like it was an order. Noah swallowe
Lucien traced the chain with lazy fingers. “You look delicious.” The air in the chamber was thick with anticipation, heavy with the scent of alluring incense and something darker, something that clung to the back of Noah's throat like a warning. The room itself was a study in contrasts: opulent yet oppressive, its walls lined with velvet tapestries. At this point, the only source of light in the room are candles that flickered, their flames casting long shadows that danced like specters across the stone floor. At the center of it all, a massive four-poster bed dominated the space, its iron frame adorned with intricate carvings of thorns and vines. Chains hung from the posts to the cuffs on Noah's wrists ankles, their links glinting dully in the dim light, a silent promise of what was to come. Lucien stood at the foot of the bed, his presence commanding, his tall frame casting a long shadow that seemed to devour the light. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of hunger and calculation a
“Yeah,” Noah managed. “I—understand.” It was the answer Lucien wanted, an answer shaped by compliance, not by surrender. Lucien’s fingers slid from Noah’s throat and trailed down his collarbone in a movement that could have been tender if you ignored the context. He didn’t release him fully; instead his palm flattened against Noah’s sternum, steadying him. “You will behave,” Lucien said. “Not because I'm trying to control you or break you, but because I teach you how to hold yourself in a place where you don’t get broken. That distinction matters.” Noah’s breath was jagged. The wall pressed warm against his spine. His hands were needle-light at his sides. In the charged silence that followed—the sort of silence that is always louder than words—Lucien’s grip eased, becoming less about suppression and more about the finality of instruction. Noah swallowed. The smell of Lucien's metallic and citrus cologne filled him. He felt small and incandescent and very foolish for having push
Daniel parked the car in front of Lucien’s towering building, the engine humming low. As soon as they stepped out, Lucien shut the door with a decisive slam and turned to Daniel. “Get back in the car. You’re not coming up,” Lucien said, voice flat. Daniel raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” He smirked at Noah before sliding back behind the wheel. “Good luck, boy toy.” The car rolled off, leaving Lucien and Noah standing before the private entrance. Lucien pressed his palm against the panel, fingers quick on the keypad. The elevator chimed, doors sliding open. They stepped inside, the silence between them thick. By the time the elevator doors opened into Lucien’s penthouse, Noah couldn’t keep it in anymore. “That boy—your ex—he came into the club when you left with your brother, he just came up to me and sat down across from me and started saying a bunch of shit that was supposedly meant to scare me.” Noah blurted, spinning to face him t
(Noah's POV)I sat there staring at the space the guy left behind like his shadow was still leaning over me. My chest felt weird, like a balloon blowing up with the wrong kind of air.His Lucien.Please. The only person allowed to call Lucien “his” is… well… me. Right?The words replayed in my head anyway, bouncing around like those error pings when your Wi-Fi dies: Lucien only gets aroused when he’s angry. He’ll tie you up and wreck you. He’ll never love you. He’ll just use you.I should’ve laughed. Except my face was hot and my throat dry.Because, let’s be real, I know Lucien. I know the man who folds his sleeves with surgical precision, who can slit someone’s reputation open in court and then ruffle my hair like I’m some street cat he picked up. The man who, yeah, talks about ropes and blindfolds and safewords in that calm voice that makes me want to say yes to things I shouldn’t.But I also know this: when I climbed into his lap the first time, he didn’t look angry. He looked lik
(Noah's POV)“You don’t have to think so,” he said. “You’re with Lucien. Of course you wouldn’t think. He’d own even your head and take away your ability to think.”My brain stalled. Who the fuck is this guy? And—wait a minute…He knows Lucien.He knows Lucien.He frickin knows Lucien.Which means he’s not some random creep. He’s someone in the circle. Someone who shouldn’t be talking to me. Someone who could get me killed just by sitting here.Shit. Shit, shit, shit.I discreetly tapped the audio record button and put the phone inside my pocket. Then I forced my face into the exact expression I’d practiced in a million dumb videos: casual, slightly amused, like the stranger across from me was a fly I could swat away whenever. My heart, meanwhile, was doing someone else’s cardio routine.“Okay,” I said, voice level. “You here to hit on me or lecture me on mob etiquette?”He let out a dry laugh, like a match being struck and then dropped. “Neither,” he said. He kept his hood up. Even i