Chapter 11:

Self-Indulging Fun and Frustration

Love and Destruction

Note: Explicit Somno. SA Warning

     It was a maze of alleyways before Sylas would reach his apartment. Stopping by a random public bathroom along the way to (at the very least) wash the blood from his hands was an option, but he wasn’t that bothered by it and the blood on his clothes would still be a problem. Law enforcement wouldn’t stop him anyway. They didn’t care enough about their jobs to deliberately start something with him of all people.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. The vermillion liquid seeped onto the stick, soaking it and rendering it unusable. With a sigh, he shoved the pack back in his pocket and kept walking.

His path back home was usually empty, hence why he took it, but today was a strange exception. There was a group of young adults fighting with each other. Normally, he’d pay them no mind and find another way, yet there was a sight he recognized. Brown hair and those same eyes he’s grown to love and adore: hazel-blue. Eirian.

By the time he finished debating whether he should continue past anyways or not, the group stopped. Recognizing the fox hood they all panicked and dispersed—all but Eirian. They stared right back at him, then put their back against the wall and sunk to the cold, concrete floor.

Feeling a bit obligated to at this point, Sylas walked over and stood beside them.


“I don’t know you.” Eirian immediately snaps.

“Alright, Mr. Tough Guy.”

It was hard to tell for sure from how dark it’d get at night, but Eirian appeared to be covered in wounds.

“Your dad’s gonna be worried, or probably already is.”

“Even to you I’m daddy’s little kid?”

“He loves you, you know.”

Eirian pauses, then replies in a barely audible mumble facing away. “...I know.” They exhale a grey cloud, glancing up at Sylas.

“I’d ask you to light one for me, but I can’t even hold one right now.”

Eirian barely notices the blood soaking his hands at his mention but opts not to ask.

“Why do you do all these random fights if you know it worries him?”

“Why did you? When you were younger I mean. Everyone knows about Sly Fox and his infamous crime streak.”

“To make a living, at least that’s part of it. The more boring answer is that I was bored. Your turn.”

They turn their gaze back to the dilapidated ground, evidently reluctant to respond.

“...I’m…looking for someone.”

Just like their father. Children really do take after their parents.

“I’m sure there are safer ways to do that.”

“What do you know?” Eirian barks back.

Yep, just like their dad.

Sighing, Sylas begins walking off with a back handed wave. “Just stay out of trouble will you? Worry your dad less for a change.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They extinguish their cigarette into the pavement, relaxing against the wall.


     Over the course of another month, Sylas came to learn more of Actavio’s pattern. Mondays and Fridays he’d pick up his younger children from school and on Thursdays and Fridays he slept in the studio apartment.

When he’d walk through the door, the first thing he’d do is set down his coat on the kitchen counter then shower. Even there did Sylas set cameras, and as he expected Actavio didn’t masturbate at all, as much as he wished he did.

Afterwards, he would cook himself dinner, drink a glass of red wine, then go to sleep. He was a still sleeper, but Sylas knew that already. In the morning he’d repeat the same pattern: shower, eat (although no wine in the mornings), then head out. Short and simple.

It felt like a guilty treat to be able to watch him from the comfort of his sofa and at the same time he still felt unreachable, especially now that he wasn’t even looking at him at the bar since the Vultures incident.

So, the following month he used the key he copied to enter his apartment and slip something into the wine bottle—just something to knock him out more efficiently; not before catching a whiff of his herbal-scented sheets before leaving. Then, that Thursday when he confirmed that he consumed the liquor, Sylas made his way over.

He kept the light off when he entered and silently sat by the edge of the bed near his crush, who was fast asleep on his left arm. It was strange to see Actavio in a tee and sweats but then again sleeping in a suit would be beyond uncomfortable. Sylas slid the blonde strands back, revealing more of Actavio’s face.

It’d be nice…to ruin him, he thought. A right and beautiful mess. He wished that he could see his body after his matches. Cuts and bruises. If he pressed into them, would his face twist in pain? Or would he be too prideful to even show that?

Sylas pressed his fingers to Actavio’s lips, tracing them in a slow outline. Gradually, he inserted them within his mouth. Quiet and compliant. If he was awake, he’d surely be throwing a fit right now, and part of him was dying to see that.

Really, it would be easy to just kidnap him right now. Who would stop him? Evidently the Merids had some way of tracking Actavio down, so that’d probably be an issue, but he could figure it out. He escaped from all sorts of scenarios before, after all.

Removing his fingers, Sylas directed his hand lower, pulling down Actavio’s sweats and boxers just enough for it to reveal his ass. He parted and pushed past his entrance: tight. It’d been awhile since they had sex and he was relieved to know that he was his only partner. Other than…his wife.

Bitterness started to encompass him. How could he forget about that fucking whore? That bitch that got to have him while he didn’t! She didn’t even take advantage of her position. Never even spent time with Actavio when he was right there, within her hands. They had children together for fucks sake. Why couldn’t he have children with Actavio? Why couldn’t he be his bride?

Sylas seized Actavio by his hair, jerking him back with flared canines.

“Why won’t you love me?! I do everything you ask. EVERYTHING!”

Swiftly he removed his hands and flipped Actavio onto his stomach, tearing off his clothes and scratching his skin in the process. Maybe the pain would show him how much he cared.

He unbuckled his belt, using it to pin Actavio’s arms above his head. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d wake up, but he liked the way he looked. Bound and helpless. Sylas situated himself onto the bed and mounted him from behind, regaining ahold of his golden locks.

“Did you want me to bring their lifeless bodies to your doorstep instead? How many people do I have to kill to make you happy?” His growl was low and sharp, nearly tugging at the hair enough to lodge a few strands free then suddenly he erupts, “You and that FUCKING slut and your SHITHEAD KIDS. IT’S ALWAYS EVERYONE BUT ME!”

Dismissively he shoved his head into the pillow at an angle; through it all he still wanted to see his face have whatever emotion it’d bare. Firmly gripping Actavio’s rear, he pulled it against his hips and set his abdomen between his lap without penetrating. Instead, he tauntingly wedged his throbbing length between his ass cheeks.

“You’re telling me you didn’t want me? Not once think of me? Not once think of me fucking you raw? Who else has ever done that for you?”

Sylas dug his nails into Actavio’s back, leaving strokes of red and curving it into a more well defined arch.

“Hah. Hahah! You look like such a whore right now, you know that? I wonder if you’ll moan my name while you’re asleep. Now wouldn’t that be a treat?”

He licked the small drops of blood from his fingertips then knelt down, doing the same to the fissures he made in his love’s skin before biting his neck. Gliding his lengthy hair behind, Sylas straightened back and admired his work.

“You’re mine, Actavio. Hopefully you’ll remember that now.”

Finally, he forces himself past the ring, delving into Actavio’s constricted rectum; the unconscious mafia boss still evokes an exhale regardless of his state. As though trying to silence his instinctual refusal, Sylas strikes his rear hard enough to leave a mark.

A hysterical love-struck grin painted his expression at the sensation: inflicting pain onto his crush. It felt like he was taming a wild animal, only learning through a mixture of violence and kindness.

He struck him again, watching in glee as the shade of red deepened. The strokes and slashes of scattered scarlet paired so beautifully with his light apricot skin. Sylas pleasantly wondered how Actavio looked after his underground ring fights. Was he covered in more alluring hues? Maybe some indigo from his bruises as well? Oh how he loved to envision it. What a divine sight that would be; his love battered and beaten, and yet through it all he knew without a doubt in his mind that he would maintain that same unshaken glare.

Sylas etched his fingers into one of the scratches he made, prying it wider as he watched Actavio silently squirm and whimper in pain. He should tie him up more often, it really was a lovely look on him.

Once more Sylas lapped the ichor from his paw, making sure to get every last drop that snuck under his nails. A coppery taste that could only be Actavio’s.

“Fuck I wanna–touch you.” He sighed affectionately as he relished and savored the flavor.

Unable to sustain the sight any longer, he fully embraced his crush from behind, cupping his pecs in a copious grope. His lengthy emerald green locks fell to the side as he pummeled violently enough to force the rim and its walls wider. How he longed to assault Actavio’s breasts again; the memory of his skin-tight turtleneck hugging them never left his mind.

Sylas bit his love’s ear, nearly clamping it to the point of giving it a makeshift piercing. Harsh heaves blew against the orifice, flushing its rim pink in all his unconsciousness.

“I fucking knew it…You like it when I play with your ears.” To add more evidence to his more-or-less confirmed theory, he licks Actavio’s ears and evokes a shudder from the mafia boss, causing Sylas to chuckle to himself. “Ahh, fuck I love you. And your tits of course.” He squeezed them tightly, trying to absorb as much of them as he could to have his fill for the night and then some.

After sleeping with Actavio so many times, he was already well aware of all of his sensitive spots but he purposefully avoided them to be able to extend his stamina and thus their time together. The drives only became slick and more pleasurable for the receiver once Sylas himself began to moisten his walls in precum, and only then did Actavio moan in his slumber. Such boisterous and ardent moans, now that he wasn’t conscious of it to hold them back.

“You–really are a slut. But…you’re my slut.” Sylas purred, planting an endearing peck on his lover’s cheek.

The leather of the confining belt squeaked as it stilled Actavio’s wrists in place through all of his fidgeting. Just thinking about the red stripe that he’d have on his skin afterwards made his shaft throb restlessly.

He panted against Actavio’s ear, humping his crush like a hound in heat. “Fuck…You feel fucking amazing-! I–could just melt..right inside you.”

Like a python his thoughts and impulses started to constrict around him. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? Sure, being kind and doting to Actavio was nice and all, but this was much more fun and gratifying. It’s not like his niceties were getting anywhere either. Maybe now by leaving his mark evidently on the mob boss he would finally understand the devotion he held for him.

Even if he didn’t, Sylas wouldn’t give up. He’d only become more ambitious. If Actavio didn’t cave, he was already planning on kidnapping him for a few days. If the Merids got on his case, so be it. There wasn’t a situation he couldn’t get out of so far, why would they be any different?

Though he had avoided his crush’s soft areas, the pounding was still merciless and extracted a climax from Actavio before him although the following contraction almost pushed him over. Yet still Sylas didn’t relent the violation and so continued to use Actavio’s body to achieve his own orgasm.

“Shit Actavio–..!”

His grope transcended into a clawing of Actavio’s torso the shorter and faster his thrusts became; he had no intention of pulling out, he wanted Actavio to know it was him who came to him and pleasured him in his sleep. Maybe then he’d appreciate him more for going out of his way to do this.

With one last thrust, he expelled his affectionate seed into his love. The hole was left agape once he exited with the only thing left to occupy it being Sylas’s load. It twitched a pulse as if it was struggling to close but ultimately gave up on the effort.

Drawing harsh breaths, Sylas looked upon Actavio with a satisfied glimmer in his eyes and fever in his grin. A beautiful web of spurt spun across his rear and thighs, providing a bridge between them while Actavio’s own semen was splattered onto the sheets below.

He removed the belt, fawning at the predicted outcome: a thick stripe of red around his wrists. One last time Sylas pecked Actavio, this time stealing his breath away for himself.

“Love you, sweetheart.” The delinquent whispered, playfully tapping Actavio’s lips once before departing and leaving him as he was now. Bare, with only Sylas’s territorial claim left to cover him.

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