Behind Salvatore in the hallway, Roderick had followed at a jog, confused about why that man had left mid-meeting and walked out without a word.

And now Salvatore was making a scene in Milo’s room. What was going on?

"What happ—" He opened his mouth as he reached the room.

Blam!

The door closed in his face.

The sound was loud and flat in the corridor.

Roderick stood there for a moment. He looked at the door.

Damn!

He did not need to ask further. He just turned around and walked back the way he had come. He tried not to get involved in whatever drama was happening.

Inside the room, Salvatore looked at the scene in front of him.

Milo was naked, backed against the headboard, trembling, looking at him in fear.

Alben, still fully dressed, was sitting at the edge of the bed, completely relaxed, watching Salvatore with an expression that said he was enjoying himself.

Salvatore crossed the room quickly and pulled Alben up from the mattress by the arm, stepping between him and the bed. His eyes stayed on Milo for a second before cutting back to Alben.

"Hey, hey." Alben raised both hands. "Calm down. We didn’t do anything."

"You didn’t do anything." Salvatore’s voice was low and controlled in the way that meant he was more angry, not less. "He is naked. What do you call that?"

Alben grinned. "We were just having some fun."

Salvatore looked at him for a long moment. Then he looked at Milo. "Seriously, Milo. You will be naked in front of everyone?"

Milo shook his head quickly. "N-no. It’s not like that, Sir." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Salvatore turned back to Alben. "Get out!"

Alben picked up the black case from the table. He was still smiling.

He lifted a hand toward Milo as he moved for the door. "Good night, Milo. It was so good."

He said it deliberately. Lightly. In a way designed to make things worse before he left.

It worked. Milo shook his head at the door as it swung shut.

"W-we didn’t do anything," he said, trying to explain.

The door closed.

The room went quiet.

Milo pulled his knees tighter and looked down at the sheets. The silence sat heavy in the air. He could hear Salvatore breathing from where he stood near the foot of the bed, and he could feel the man looking at him without needing to see his face.

It went on for what felt like a long time.

Milo swallowed.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Milo’s head came up fast. He shook it, hard. "N-no. No, Sir. I didn’t."

"Did he ask you to be naked?"

Milo’s mouth opened. He closed it.

Then he nodded once and looked back down.

"Look at me when you are speaking to me."

Milo forced his eyes up. Salvatore’s face was not shouting-angry. It was worse than that. It was just scary for Milo.

"You said you didn’t enjoy it," Salvatore said. "But you obeyed him. So what do you want? What is it, exactly?"

Milo looked down again. He could not hold eye contact for long. His throat felt tight.

"Answer me."

"I’m sorry..."

"I don’t need your apology. Your body is yours. I only want to understand why you obeyed him."

Milo was quiet for a full minute. The words were there, but getting them out was hard.

"I... I was afraid," he said finally.

"Afraid of who?"

"He... he asked me to be naked. I didn’t know how to refuse."

Salvatore looked at him. "Are you stupid?"

The words hit Milo somewhere low in his chest. He had heard cruel things said to him before, many times, in many rooms.

But something about that question, from this particular man, in this particular moment, cut through differently.

He did not plan to cry. It just happened. His eyes filled and spilled over before he could stop it, and once it started, he could not pull it back.

Milo was crying.

"Why are you crying? Tell me."

"I’m sorry," Milo said, his voice breaking. "I don’t know..."

He pressed the back of his hand against his face. He knew Salvatore must be disgusted with him. He knew how it looked, weak and childish and embarrassing.

Salvatore had killed people. He ran rooms that other men feared. That man expected him to be his guard. And here Milo was, crying on a bed, naked. He had never felt so useless.

He hated it. But he could not stop it.

Salvatore looked at him for a long moment without speaking. He didn’t understand why Milo was so fragile. But he also didn’t understand more about himself. His anger vanished as he looked at Milo like that.

He exhaled.

"Come here," he said. "I need to talk to you."

Milo uncurled himself slowly. He moved to the edge of the bed, his feet finding the cold floor, his head still down. He was still wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

Salvatore reached out and put his fingers under his chin, tilting it up.

"I don’t know how to handle you," he said. His voice was calmer now, but not soft exactly. "You have rights over your own body. You know this. I have told you. And still you let people treat you like a toy."

He paused.

"I have been trying to make you understand it. But..."

Milo’s tears ran down against Salvatore’s fingers. He was trying to stop crying and failing.

"I’m sorry," he whispered.

"Stop apologizing. I want to understand. If you had enjoyed it, that would be your choice to make. But you didn’t enjoy it. You told me so. So why did you force yourself? Alben would not have physically hurt you if you had said no. He is annoying and he pushes, but he would have stopped."

Milo looked at the floor past Salvatore’s hand. He didn’t have an answer that sounded like an answer.

He was just used to it. It was so hard just to say no or refuse something.

Salvatore lifted his chin again. "Listen to me. I cannot help you if you will not help yourself. Do you understand that?"

Milo nodded.

Salvatore looked at him for another moment.

Then he said, "I hate to do this. But you will not learn otherwise."

Milo looked up, confused.

Salvatore sat on the edge of the bed and, in one clean motion, lifted Milo and settled him on his lap.

Milo made a startled sound and grabbed at nothing, suddenly very aware of his own weight and the warmth of the man underneath him.

"Sir..."

"Stay still," Salvatore said. "I am serious. Listen to me carefully."

Milo went still. He nodded.

Salvatore’s voice was even and deliberate. "You are MINE."

Milo gulped.

"Everything on you. This skin. These arms. Your chest. Your stomach. All of it. MINE." He touched Milo’s cheek, his neck, his chest, each touch slow and clear, making sure the point landed.

Milo gulped again. Was that man serious? Was he really claiming him?

"Which means," Salvatore continued, "you CAN’T and WILL NOT show your body. It MEANS that even if you are under a death threat, you will not give yourself to anyone. Not Nero, not Alben, not anyone! Do you understand what I am saying?"

Milo nodded slowly.

"Say it."

"I..." Milo’s voice came out unsteady. "I can’t show myself to anyone. Except... you."

"Correct. And every time I find out you do, I will cut one of your fingers. I am not playing. I never play with my words."

Milo felt his stomach drop. He imagined his finger being cut. What would it feel like? It must hurt so much.

It was not something to take lightly.

Salvatore sensed it. He had to do it to make sure that young man would never give in to anyone just because of fear.

Milo needed something bigger to fear.

"If Nero comes tomorrow," Salvatore said, "and tells you to be naked, what do you do?"

"I... have to refuse," Milo said.

"And if he threatens to kill you?"

Milo thought about it. "I... will run to you."

Salvatore stopped. He looked at Milo’s face. He didn’t expect that answer.

Then he laughed, a real laugh, sudden and short.

"My little chicken," he said.

Milo sat quietly on his lap, unsure what was funny.

Salvatore’s laugh faded. He was quiet for a moment. Then, more seriously...

"Before you are really attracted to someone, I will never let you show yourself like a prostitute. You are MINE. Only I can ask you to show yourself. I hope you understand. I don’t want to cut your finger. So pay attention to it."

Milo nodded. He was still shaking slightly, but underneath the fear there was something else, something he did not have an exact word for.

Salvatore handed him his pajamas from the floor.

"Get dressed. And sleep."

He stood, setting Milo back on the mattress gently, and walked to the door without looking back.

He did not touch him further.

Milo just sat confused on the edge of the bed, with the pajamas in his hands.

Why did he feel weird? It was like part of him wanted that man to touch him.

He didn’t expect Salvatore would just leave him like this.