Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

Chapter 141: His Beauty In The Moonlight

WHAT ORION SAW...

Sitting beside him on the cold bench, I watch the way the moonlight washes over Adrien’s skin.

The silver glow catches on the pale curve of his neck and traces the quiet, tired line of his mouth. He looks so frail sitting out here in the night chill, his knees pulled up tightly against his chest as if he is trying to shrink his body down until he disappears altogether.

Seeing him try to make himself smaller like that makes something in my chest wrinkle in irritation.

He always does this when he feels exposed. He pulls inward, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to occupy as little space in the world as possible.

I adjust my weight on the stone, sliding back just a little so my long frame does not loom over him. I want him to breathe. I want him to stop trying to hide inside his own skin.

Then he turns his head to look at me, and the sentence slips out of his mouth before he can stop it.

"I was teasing you before, but now I’m being honest... Do you want to get lucky, Orion?"

I pause. My mind stops moving for a solid minute.

A wave of weird, conflicting thoughts washes through me. First comes pure confusion, followed by a sudden wave of understanding, which immediately collapses back into confusion before settling into a strange, quiet surprise.

I stare at him, trying to process the sheer absurdity of what he just said. He is sitting on a freezing bench in the middle of the night, battered from a car crash, exhausted from years of running, and his solution to the weight of the world is to offer me his body like a piece of currency.

"What about this situation makes you think paying me with sex would make me happy?" I ask him, keeping my voice level.

Adrien looks at me with complete, unbothered honesty. "Everything. Everything about this situation makes you think paying you with sex would make you happy. Who knows? If I suck your dick the right way, maybe you will remember this night and the moment you said that betrayal means nothing to you."

I sit with that for a moment, turning my face up toward the high silver moon.

A dry, quiet smile twitches at the corner of my mouth, but beneath it, a hollow sensation settles deep in my stomach.

He thinks this is how he survives. He thinks that offering himself up, giving away parts of his body to keep a powerful man satisfied, is the only leverage he holds in this world. He thinks I want a transaction.

He thinks I want to take what everyone else took from him.

It makes a sharp, ugly irritation pulse in my head. He has no idea how much I despise the thought of him doing that for survival. He has no idea that the thought of him submitting out of fear or obligation makes my stomach turn over.

I sit up straight on the stone bench.

Adrien slumps back slightly, watching me. A strange, unnatural calm has settled over his features, making his eyes look glossy and distant, like a man who has had far too much strong wine.

He looks completely resigned, as if his mind has finally given up the fight and decided that whatever I do to him next, he will simply endure it.

I turn my body fully toward him.

"Instead of sucking my dick, as you put it, and giving me what you think I want," I say, keeping my voice low and steady, "is it fine if I take what I want?"

Adrien murmurs softly, waving a dismissive, floating hand in the air. "Sure. Take whatever you want."

"No," I say immediately, my brows pulling down. "That is not the way I wanted to put that."

That is the wrong phrasing. Saying I will take what I want makes it sound like another theft, another forced invasion, and that is the last thing I intend to do.

I lean across the small gap separating us on the bench. I reach out, my large hand closing around his cold fingers.

His skin is freezing against mine, his frame small and light. I wrap my palm firmly around his hand, letting my warmth bleed into his skin.

"What I need to ask is," I say, locking my eyes directly onto his glossy dark ones, "is it all right if I show you what I want?"

"Sure," he whispers, his voice floating on the cold air like a dry leaf. "You can do that too. Anything you want."

As I look at his face, I watch the exact moment the foggy calm in his eyes shatters. The silver moonlight catches the sudden, sharp widening of his pupils.

He looks at my face, and I can practically see the panic waking up inside his head.

He realizes that the calm, logical man he was just debating with on the bench has shifted. He sees the dark, unyielding intensity rising in my eyes, and his throat bobs as he swallows hard.

My grip on his hand tightens just enough to keep him grounded, but I make sure not to squeeze hard enough to hurt his fingers.

"What I actually meant to say," I whisper, leaning down until our faces are only inches apart in the cold air, "is it fine if I show you something better than what you think you have prepared for me?"

I watch a sudden, deep flush of heat bloom across his neck, rising rapidly from under his collar all the way to the tips of his ears.

The glossy resignation in his gaze vanishes, replaced by a raw, trembling awareness. His throat works hard, struggling to push a word past his dry lips.

"Yes," he finally manages to say.

A small, genuine smile breaks across my face.

The moment the permission leaves his mouth, I do not waste time letting him walk back across the cold gravel. He is sore, his body is bruised, and his legs are already shaking from the night chill.

I reach down, sliding one arm smoothly under his knees and the other behind his back, lifting him off the stone bench in one clean movement. I pull him up into a princess carry against my chest and turn toward the doors of the mansion.