Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

WHAT ORION SAW...

I feel him brace himself. He stiffens beneath me, clearly expecting a wild, frantic assault like the desperate kiss we shared in that dark janitor’s closet all those years ago, or the ones we’ve shared since I’ve gotten my hands on him again.

Instead, I keep my touch soft.

I press my lips to his with a slow, deliberate pressure. I take my time, fitting my mouth against his, mapping out the smooth curve of his lips without forcing his mouth open.

I deepen the angle gently, breathing the warm air from his lungs, letting my fingers slide up the mattress to brush through the soft strands of hair near his temple.

All my life, I have wondered what it would feel like to actually hold him like this.

When we were younger, back when he used to follow me around the academy grounds with that sharp, lethal hatred burning in his eyes, I used to imagine what he would look like if he grew older.

As the years passed and I grew taller, broader, and more dangerous, I would lie awake in my room wondering if he was growing too. I wondered if his jaw was sharpening, if his shoulders were broadening, if his mouth still carried that stubborn, beautiful pout.

If he would still look at me with all that hatred.

I used to go hard just picturing the way his voice would sound if he ever said my name without venom behind it. I imagined taking him, holding him down, breaking him until he belonged to me completely.

Now, he is actually here. He is lying under me on my bed sheets, real, warm, and breathing.

A sudden, quiet wave of anxiety twitches in my mind. It is a strange, unfamiliar sensation. I am a man who commands empires, who handles guns and corporate executions without a single tremor in my hands.

But looking down at his bruised, delicate frame, a tiny thread of fear twists in my chest.

What if I do this wrong?

I have no experience in being tender. I have spent my entire life taking, breaking, and commanding. He is so fragile right now, so covered in healing wounds, that one wrong push, one careless movement of my weight, could cause him pain.

I do not want him in pain. I want him to understand that my bed is the one place where no one will ever hurt him again.

A soft, low laugh bubbles up from my chest right into the kiss, born from the sheer absurdity of my own sudden nervousness.

I pull back just enough to look down at his flushed face. I reach down, sliding my hand gently under his ankles, lifting his legs from the edge of the mattress.

I place my other arm behind his back, lifting his upper body effortlessly, shifting him until he is lying right in the soft center of the large bed.

I hover over him again, resting my weight on my elbows so I do not press against his chest.

I look into his wide, dark eyes.

"Adrien," I say, keeping my voice quiet against the heavy stillness of the room. "Is this okay? I’m going to ask again, do you really want me to do this?"

He freezes.

He stares up at me, his dark pupils dilated, his mouth slightly open. I can see the sheer shock working through his mind.

He didn’t expect me to ask out in the garden, he didn’t expect me to carry him gently, and he certainly didn’t expect me to stop right here, hover over him, and ask for his permission a second time before touching his body.

I watch the guarded, defensive walls inside his head crumble just a little more.

"Yes," he whispers. The word comes out clear, unforced, and real. "Yes, Orion."

A soft smile spreads across my face.

I lower my head and kiss him again, letting the relief roll through my chest. It’s fine if he’s just saying yes because of the moment. It’s fine if he’s just going with the flow.

It’s fine if he doesn’t feel as much for me as I feel for him. So long as he lets me touch him like this, I’ll be fine with anything.

My hands move slowly, working with meticulous care. I reach for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. I don’t yank the fabric. I don’t tear at the cloth. I peel the shirt back gently, exposing his pale chest to the dim light of the room.

As the fabric parts, I feel him hold his breath. He tenses up, bracing himself for my hands to press against the dark purple and yellow bruises scattered across his ribs and collarbone.

Instead, I bring my hands to the clean, unbroken skin of his waist, keeping my palms soft. I shift my weight, lowering my head until my lips rest lightly against a deep bruise near his lower ribs.

I press a soft, lingering kiss right onto the damaged skin.

Adrien gasps sharply, his fingers instinctively clutching at the dark sheets beneath him.

I move my lips upward, finding another faint mark near his collarbone. I press another tender kiss directly onto the bruise, lingering there, feeling the heat of his skin, breathing him in until I feel the sharp tension in his shoulders begin to melt away.

"You are so fragile right now," I murmur against his skin, my hands moving down to the buckle of his pants. "I will not hurt you, duckling."

I reach sideways to the bedside drawer, pulling it open with a quiet glide. I grab a small bottle of clear lubricant, flipping the cap open with my thumb.

I take my time. I pour a generous amount of the cold gel onto my fingers, letting it warm against my skin.

I reach between his pale thighs. The moment my fingers brush against his skin, I feel him flinch violently.

He tightens his legs, his body bracing for the harsh, painful invasion he has clearly suffered so many times before on street corners and in dark, filthy rooms.

Seeing that reaction— seeing him brace for pain out of pure habit— makes a cold, ugly knot twist in my gut. It makes me want to find every person who ever laid a rough hand on him and tear them apart piece by piece.

And believe me, I will.

I do not force my way in. I hold my hand still, using my thumb to gently rub the slick gel over his entrance. I stroke the sensitive skin slowly, applying light pressure, waiting patiently until I feel the tight, defensive tension in his thighs relax.

Only when his body softens do I ease the tip of my finger inside.

"Ah..." Adrien lets out a quiet, trembling breath, his head tilting back into the plush pillow.

"Easy," I whisper, shifting up to press my lips gently against the line of his jaw. "Just breathe... breathe for me, darling."

I move my finger with painstaking slowness. I stretch him with a patience I didn’t know I possessed, keeping my touch smooth, listening to every tiny sound that leaves his mouth.

I add a second finger, slicking the path, probing gently to find the exact angles that make his breath catch without causing him distress.

I stay there for minutes, working slowly, easing his body open until I am certain he is loose, warm, and ready to receive me without tearing his delicate skin.

I pull my fingers back, reaching down to undo my own trousers.

As I push my clothes down, I catch Adrien staring at me from the mattress. His dark eyes widen slightly, a sudden wave of nervous heat passing over his flushed face as he takes in my size.

Well, that’s a stellar review if I’ve ever seen one.

"Orion..." he murmurs, a clear tremor of uncertainty bleeding into his voice.

"I know," I say softly.

I shift back over him, placing my hands on the mattress on either side of his head. I guide the head of my length to his slick entrance, resting it there without pushing forward.

"Look at me, Adrien."

He raises his eyes, locking his dark, trembling gaze into mine.

Slowly, with an absurd amount of control over my muscles, I press forward.

The blunt head slides inside, stretching his narrow opening wide. Adrien lets out a sharp, breathless gasp, his hands flying up to grip my broad shoulders, his nails digging into my skin.

I freeze instantly. I stop all forward momentum, holding myself completely still, resting inside his tight opening, giving his body time to adjust to the intrusion.

"You are fine," I whisper, bringing my hands up to gently cradle his pale face, my thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones. "I have you."

I wait. I stay motionless above him, watching his face, waiting until the tight, pained shock in his eyes fades into a soft, heavy warmth.

Once I feel his hips settle and his breathing even out, I ease the rest of my length inside him, sliding smoothly until I am buried to the hilt in his tight, slick warmth.

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