Chapter 12: Don't Look at Anyone Else
Chapter 12: Don't Look at Anyone Else
⚠️ Extreme possessiveness, VERY detailed sex scene, gun kink, emotional breakdown, and high-level domination.
Elio's POV
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I should've known better than to look.
The man was handsome — sure. Blond, younger than Luca, a tailored suit that hung just a little too perfectly on his frame. He smiled at me across the garden terrace during Luca's private birthday dinner with his closest allies.
I didn't smile back.
But I hesitated.
A glance too long.
A flicker too soft.
And Luca saw.
He didn't say anything. Not then.
Not during the rest of the meal.
Not while his soldiers talked and his allies toasted him.
Not while his fingers sat curled perfectly around a whiskey glass — jaw hard, profile like a blade.
He didn't even look at me.
Until we were back in his quarters.
And the door clicked shut.
That's when I felt it.
The storm.
"Get on your knees."
His voice was soft.
That was worse than shouting.
"Luca—"
"I said. On your fucking knees."
I dropped.
He circled me like prey, slow and silent. I didn't dare speak. My heart pounded like a trapped thing in my chest.
"You didn't learn," he said. "Or maybe you thought the collar made you safe."
"No," I whispered.
"Then why did you look at him?"
"I didn't mean to."
"That's not an answer."
"I didn't want him."
He stopped in front of me.
"And what made you think it matters what you wanted?"
My mouth opened. Shut.
"You're not here to want," he said. "You're here to obey."
He drew his pistol — that sleek black steel I knew too well — and pressed it against my cheek.
"I've killed men for less," he murmured.
"I know."
He crouched.
"Do you want me to shoot him?"
"No."
"Then prove you belong to me."
He dragged me up by the collar and shoved me against the wall.
"Strip."
I obeyed.
The cold hit my skin like a slap. He stripped, too — but slower. More deliberate. Like a king descending from his throne only to punish his favorite sin.
Then — he turned me around and bent me over the windowsill.
The whole city glowed below us. Milan glittering like diamonds and danger.
"If you ever look at someone else again," he growled, "I'll fuck you where they can see."
"Luca—"
"You'll scream for me while the city watches. And you'll thank me."
He spit in his hand, stroked his cock once — already hard, thick, furious — and shoved in with a force that made me cry out.
No prep.
Just ownership.
Possession.
"Say it," he hissed, thrusting deep. "Say who owns you."
"You—fuck—you do—"
He grabbed my collar with one hand, the gun still gripped in the other, and used both to hold me in place as he thrust in savage, punishing strokes.
"Who's the only man allowed in your head?"
"You—just you—"
"Whose cock ruins you?"
"Yours—yours—oh god—"
He slapped my ass hard, the sound echoing against the window glass.
"You want them to hear?" he snarled. "I want them to hear who makes you cry."
He shifted, angling deeper.
The pressure made my vision white.
My cock dripped untouched onto the cold glass.
I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
Only feel.
His cock. His rage. His mouth on my spine.
"Beg."
"Please, Luca—harder—fuck me harder—"
He obeyed.
Ruthless.
He fucked me until the glass steamed with breath, until my knees went weak and the collar bit into my throat.
Until my body remembered that it belonged to him — and only him.
And then — he stopped.
"You don't get to come," he said.
"Please—"
He shoved me to the floor, face pressed into the carpet, and straddled me from behind.
The gun clicked softly beside my head.
"You'll come," he whispered, "when I say so."
He rubbed his cock between my cheeks again — smearing me with his heat, but not entering.
He made me whine.
"Look at me again?" he whispered.
"No—never—only you—"
"Good boy."
Then — finally — he slid back in.
Slow this time.
Purposeful.
He moved like punishment wrapped in silk.
I cried out as I shattered — cock untouched — my body no longer mine.
He groaned above me, hips snapping fast as he followed, filling me again, collapsing on top of me with a growl that vibrated through my spine.
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When I opened my eyes, I was back on the bed.
Clean.
Wrapped in silk sheets.
He sat beside me, the gun gone.
"I don't want to scare you," he said quietly.
I blinked up at him.
"I want to own you."
"You already do."
He looked down at the collar.
"Then don't ever make me doubt it again."
I reached for his hand.
He let me hold it.
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