Milo’s hands stopped moving. "I’m sorry, but... why?"

Alben smiled. He shifted forward on the edge of the bed, close enough that Milo couldn’t look anywhere without looking at him. His voice dropped. "Do I need to make it clear?"

Milo’s heart rate spiked. His eyes moved to the door without meaning to.

Alben noticed. He let out a short laugh, not mean, just amused. "I won’t kill you. We’ll just have some fun. You’re used to it, right?"

Milo looked down at his hands.

He was used to it. He’d been through far worse, Nero’s hands, torture chambers, things he had stopped trying to name because naming them didn’t help.

But...

He sat very still for a long moment.

Then he sighed, a small, quiet sound, and stood up from the bed. He pulled his pajamas down and sat back on the edge of the mattress.

He was naked. He kept his eyes on the floor.

"Don’t make a sad face like that," Alben said.

"I’m sorry," Milo said softly.

Alben leaned in and kissed his cheek lightly. Milo flinched at the touch.

"I’ll be gentle," Alben said. "I’m not going to be like Salvatore."

Milo said nothing. Salvatore had never touched him, not in the way Alben meant. But he said nothing.

Alben pressed lightly on his shoulder, guiding him to lie back against the bed. Milo let himself be moved. His eyes went to the ceiling. He made his breathing slow and even, the way he had taught himself to do a long time ago.

"You know what," Alben said, his voice conversational as he climbed onto the bed, "the reason Salvatore is so interested in you is simple. He looks at you and sees himself."

Milo’s eyes shifted. He was quiet for a moment. "What do you mean, sir?"

"He was strong and cold and cruel to everyone," Alben said. "But he was always weak when he met someone like you, someone who had been put through hell and still had the will to live."

Milo took a slow breath. He closed one eye as Alben kissed his neck. He held his breath, but he was too curious to stay quiet. "W-why is that, sir?"

Alben inhaled Milo’s scent and kissed his shoulder before continuing, "Don’t tell anyone, if you don’t want Salvatore to kill you. He was sold at an auction when he was a child. He lived a hard life for many years, until Mercilo found him, took him in, and trained him."

Milo froze. Alben began licking him, making it hard for him to breathe.

He stared at the wall. Aside from the sensations he felt, his mind wandered.

The Don. The man Hartley feared. The man who could walk into a room and make everyone aware of him without raising his voice. And that man had been sold? As a child?

"Sold?" Milo said.

"Yes," Alben said. "It was worse back then than it is now. They sold you like an animal, naked in front of everyone, on a stage. If you look at him carefully, you’ll see the scars he tries to cover with tattoos. I’m telling you this so you understand him better, so you know why he acts the way he does around you."

Milo let out a short moan when Alben licked his ear. "S-sir..."

Milo stared at the wall, then closed his eyes. He didn’t focus on Alben. He felt something stir in his chest that he couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t exactly pity. It was something heavier than that, something that sat behind his ribs and pressed.

A painful feeling.

He thought about Salvatore standing in front of him earlier that day, blocking Alben from getting closer. The quiet way he had touched the scars on Milo’s back. ’Tell me if it’s painful. I’ll take you to the doctor.’

He hadn’t fully understood it then.

He thought he understood it a little better now.

That man had been through a hell far worse than his own.

Alben pushed Milo’s knees further apart, forcing his legs to frame his hips. He stayed on his knees between Milo’s thighs, looking down at him.

The light from the bedside lamp hit the red, irritated skin where the rings had been just minutes before.

Alben reached out, his thumb stroking the skin just an inch below the fresh wounds, avoiding the sensitive area but staying close enough to make Milo’s stomach muscles twitch.

"You’re so stiff. Relax," Alben whispered. He leaned down and gripped Milo’s hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

Milo’s back arched slightly off the mattress. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, his fingers clutching the bedsheets. He felt Alben’s hot breath against his inner thigh before he felt the wet slide of his tongue.

Milo held his breath.

Alben licked a path from Milo’s knee up to his groin, the texture of his tongue rough against the sensitive skin. Milo’s breath hitched, a sharp, ragged sound in the quiet room.

Alben didn’t stop. He shifted his weight, crawling higher until he was hovering directly over Milo. He supported himself on his forearms to avoid crushing Milo’s chest.

He used one hand to reach down, grasping Milo’s length. His palm was warm as he began to move his hand in a slow, tight rhythm.

"Aaahh..." Milo’s head fell back against the headboard. His mouth opened, and he moaned without realizing it, his voice mixing with the heavy, rhythmic sound of his breathing.

He felt the friction of Alben’s hand, the skin tightening with every upward stroke.

Alben lowered his head, taking one of Milo’s nipples into his mouth. He sucked gently, tasting the antiseptic. His tongue brushed the skin softly.

Milo let out a low moan, his hips jerking upward instinctively. Alben’s hand tightened in response, his thumb rubbing over the tip, catching the moisture there and spreading it down the shaft.

After a few strokes, Alben realized Milo wasn’t even hard.

"Look at me, Milo," Alben commanded.

Milo turned his head slowly. His eyes were glazed and wet.

Alben’s face was only inches away. He looked concerned.

"Enjoy it. Why are you so stiff? I won’t hurt you," Alben said.

Milo gulped. He didn’t know how to enjoy it. He was used to accepting pain and trying to endure it.

"I’m sorry..."

Alben sighed. "You don’t even enjoy my touch? Really?"

Milo just swallowed.

Alben looked at him. "Are you sure you enjoy being with men? Maybe you prefer women?"

Milo shook his head. "No, sir. It’s not about that..."

But he didn’t know how to explain it.

Alben sighed. He was still fully clothed. He looked at Milo for a long moment, at that cute face.

Then he looked at Milo’s body. Soft. No sign of arousal. He slapped it lightly.

Milo held his breath, but his cock twitched.

Alben furrowed his brow. He slapped it again.

"S-sir..."

Alben gripped it harder, making Milo let out a short, stifled scream. This time, Milo’s body reacted.

Alben chuckled, making Milo’s cheeks burn red.

"You really enjoy the pain?"

Milo shook his head. "N-no, sir..."

"But your body says otherwise."

Before Alben could continue, the door burst open with a shout that pierced the room.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Milo’s eyes widened as Salvatore stood in the doorway, furious. He was so startled that he didn’t even realize he had pulled himself upright and was now sitting close to the headboard.

Alben looked at Salvatore and smirked.