Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

WHAT ORION SAW...

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.

Adrien lets out a long, quiet sigh, his entire body opening up and encompassing me.

The feeling of being inside him is almost overwhelming. He is so tight, so hot, so incredibly soft that it makes my own breath catch in my throat.

For months, I imagined what this would feel like, but the reality of his body accepting mine is a thousand times better than any fantasy I ever conjured in the dark.

Back then, I was too insane to realize what I felt was attraction. I honestly thought I wanted to plunge my hand into his chest and grasp his heart. Who would’ve known I was just attracted to him?

I begin to move in him.

I set a slow, deliberate rhythm. I glide in and out of him with a gentle cadence, rolling my hips smoothly, keeping my weight completely off his bruised ribs.

Every time I push deep into his warmth, I lean down to press my lips against his, kissing away the small, breathless gasps that escape his mouth.

He feels so good beneath me. He is slick, hot, and completely responsive, his hips moving faintly to match my slow pace.

As I stroke into him, I look down at his face.

A single, warm tear spills from the corner of his dark eye, trailing slowly down his temple and disappearing into his hair.

My heart stops. I freeze mid-thrust, my entire body going rigid.

A sharp, hollow panic strikes through my chest. Did I hurt him? Did I press too hard on a bruise? Did I push too deep?

I lean down immediately, my thumb coming up to gently wipe the tear from his skin. I press my lips softly right where the tear fell, kissing his eye, his cheek, his forehead.

My throat bobs as I capture another stray drop with my lips, swallowing it down.

”Why are you crying, duckling?” I whisper softly, unable to hide the genuine, anxious worry in my voice.

”It’s nothing,” he chokes out, his voice thick with an emotion I can’t quite read. ”It just... it doesn’t hurt.”

I stare down at him, my dark eyes searching his pale face.

He is crying because it doesn’t hurt.

The weight of those words hits me like a physical blow to the chest. He was expecting pain. He was expecting to be bruised, torn, and discarded, because that is all the world has ever given him whenever he let someone touch his body.

A fierce, protective warmth burns through my blood, consuming every drop of my restraint. No one who’s touched him will meet a good end...I swear it.

I begin to move again, sliding inside him with that same easy, painstaking tenderness, letting my length stroke deep into his core.

”It will never hurt with me,” I say quietly, my voice firm, absolute, and steady as I thrust gently into his slick warmth. ”I am going to make sure you never hurt again. Everything is going to be easy for you now, Adrien. You are going to stick with me forever. We are married. You never have to run again.”

Just stay married to me, Adrien. Don’t run again. Don’t leave. Just stay here with me.

Adrien lets out a soft, low groan as my thrust hits a deep, sensitive spot inside him, his toes curling tightly against the dark sheets.

”I will always make you feel good,” I continue, sliding my hands up his chest to entwine my fingers tightly with his on the mattress. ”I will take care of you. I will always forgive you. Just stay right here.”

You mustn’t leave me. Always be mine, Adrien. Stay with me. Forever.

I lean down, taking his mouth in a deep, sweeping kiss.

At the same time, I release his hand and reach down between our bodies. I wrap my warm palm around his hard, leaking shaft, slicking his skin with the lubricant, and begin to stroke him in perfect time with my thrusts.

The combination of my gentle, deep thrusts and the steady stroke of my hand on his length is more than his overwhelmed body can take. He writhes beneath me, his small hips lifting slightly off the bed to meet my movements, his breath coming in fast, ragged gasps.

Within minutes, I feel his internal muscles ripple and contract violently around my dick.

Adrien cries out loudly into my mouth, his head thrown back as a powerful orgasm crashes through him. He cums hard between us, coating my hand and his pale stomach in warm white.

I listen to him gasp for air, his dark eyes wide and completely dazed, his entire body trembling beneath mine.

I do not stop. I keep my movements smooth and steady inside him, working his soft, responsive body with practiced ease. I lower my head down his neck, pressing gentle kisses over his collarbone, his chest, and down to his flat, quivering stomach.

I lean lower, hovering over his lower abdomen.

Before he realizes what I am doing, I take his softening length back into my mouth.

”Orion—wait!” he gasps out, his pale hands reaching down to tangle frantically in my dark hair.

I ignore his soft protest. I swirl my tongue around the slick tip, sucking gently, keeping my hips nudging rhythmically into his core from below.

The double sensation drives him completely over the edge. His body short-circuits. He doubles over slightly, his fingers twisting tightly into my hair as a second, violent orgasm rips through him, barely ten minutes after the first.

He collapses back against the pillows, completely spent, his legs shaking against my sides as he pants frantically for air.

I shift back up his body, sliding my hands under his thighs to adjust his angle slightly. I look down at him, a soft, immensely affectionate smile spreading across my lips. My dick is still buried deep inside his slick, pulsing warmth.

”One more, duckling,” I hum softly against his cheek.

I begin to move again. With his legs lifted, my thrusts go deeper, hitting that sweet, sensitive curve inside him with every single push.

He loses himself completely. He cries out my name, his small hands clutching at my back, his voice echoing through the quiet master bedroom.

He doesn’t know where his body ends and mine begins. He just lies there, letting me roll through him, listening as I whisper endless compliments against his skin— telling him how beautiful he is, how sweet he tastes, how he was made to lie right here in my bed.

Telling him to choose to be mine.

When the third wave hits him, his entire body spasms around my shaft. A long, beautiful cry leaves his lips as his third orgasm washes over him, draining every last bit of strength from his muscles.

The sheer feeling of his tight warmth milking me through his climax breaks my own rigid self-control.

I let out a low growl against the side of his neck. My thrusts quicken, driving into him with five hard, deep pulses before I bury myself as far as I can go inside his slick core, spilling my warm seed deep within him.

I collapse softly over his body, taking extreme care to keep my heavy weight off his bruised ribs, resting my face in the warm crook of his neck.

Silence settles over the bedroom.

The only sound filling the space is our heavy, mingled breathing. Adrien lies beneath me, completely limp, completely drained, his skin flushed and glowing softly in the dim light.

I lie there with him, listening to his heart thumping in a steady, rapid rhythm against my chest. My hands remain wrapped around him, holding him close, feeling the incredible warmth of his body against mine.

I look at his pale face. His dark eyes are closed, his long lashes resting softly against his cheeks. The tension that usually grips his jaw is completely gone, replaced by a quiet, peaceful stillness.

He is asleep. He fell asleep right here in my arms, safe, satisfied, and unhurt.

A quiet, immense fulfillment settles deep into my chest. For seven years, I chased a phantom. I chased an angry, sharp little boy who wanted to destroy me.

I too was an insane little boy who had no understanding of my own emotions. In a way, running away was probably the best thing Adrien could have done then, because I don’t think he would have had the chance or the strength to blossom around me then.

But at the same time, I hate that he had to run away, and running away hurt him so much that it ruined such an important time of his life.

He was once my little stalker, then he was my muse, now he is my husband, sleeping soundly in my bed. He is my husband. Mine. At last.

I reach up, using my thumb to gently brush a strand of dark hair away from his forehead.

I press one last, soft kiss against his temple, wrap my arms tighter around his waist, and close my eyes, letting myself rest beside him with a pleased smile I didn’t know my face could contour.