[BL] The Mafia Boss Wants My Body-Chapter 22: The Boss and His Imagination

With those words, the gentleness vanished. Matteo rose, grabbing Adrian’s legs and hooking them over his shoulders, exposing him completely.

Matteo’s mind was running absolutely wild. In his head, he was already hooking Adrian’s legs over his shoulders, exposing his tight hole completely before slamming his thick cock into him with a violent, rhythmic intensity. He could almost hear the loud, wet slaps of their bodies meeting and see Adrian’s eyes rolling back in pleasure.

He was so lost in the fantasy of Adrian being submissive and begging for his cock that his hand moved instinctively. In his daydream, he was reaching down to possess Adrian entirely, but in reality, his fingers clamped down on Adrian’s balls with a sudden, crushing grip.

A sharp, pained yell ripped through the quiet room, snapping Matteo back to reality like a bucket of ice water.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" Adrian shouted, bolting upright and violently shoving Matteo’s hand away.

Matteo blinked, looking around the room in a daze. He was still hovering over Adrian, but the air was silent, and the "rhythmic slamming" he’d been hearing was just the frantic thumping of his own heart.

"Why the fuck did you grab my balls like that?" Adrian demanded, his face flushing with pure indignation as he scrambled back. "Do you want to break them? I’m pretty sure I still need those!"

Matteo stared at him, his cool composure completely shattered. He couldn’t exactly admit that in his head, he was currently halfway through a pornographic masterpiece where Adrian was screaming his name and taking his cock raw.

"I... I didn’t mean to..." Matteo stammered, his face burning.

"You were silent and then you just squeezed!" Adrian yelled, clutching the duvet to his chest as if it were a shield. "Are you going crazy? Is this some weird mafia torture move I didn’t know about?"

The truth was embarrassing. The conversation had actually stopped way back at: "I would never hurt you. Just stay with me." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Adrian didn’t answer, he hadn’t surrendered. He hadn’t arched his back or begged for Matteo’s cock. He had just let his head rest against Matteo’s chest for a split second of silence. Everything else, the silk pajamas being ripped off, the lube, and the breathless "fuck me harder"—had been a total hallucination inside Matteo’s thirsty mind.

Matteo cleared his throat, trying to regain his dignity while his face burned. He realized he was still hovering over a very confused, very annoyed Adrian who was currently looking at him like he was a dangerous weirdo.

"I was just... checking your reflexes," Matteo lied poorly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Adrian gave him a flat, unimpressed look. "My reflexes? By trying to crush my balls? Get off the bed, Matteo. You’re officially banned from cuddling for the rest of the night."

Matteo’s icy demeanor flickered back into place. "Wait, what? You’re throwing me out of my own bed?"

"You’re damn right I am. This is your house, but this is my personal space tonight." Adrian reached down, snagged the barrier pillow, and slammed it back into the middle of the mattress.

He winced, still holding his crotch with one hand as he rolled over, turning his back to the mafia boss. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to find sleep despite the lingering ache in his balls.

Matteo sighed, his grand imagination thoroughly defeated. He lay on his side of the barrier, staring at the ceiling until sleep finally claimed him.

The next morning, Adrian woke with a pounding headache and a dull, persistent ache between his legs.

He winced as he shifted, glancing toward the other side of the bed.

Empty.

His gaze moved across the room until it landed on Matteo, seated in the armchair by the window, already dressed in a sharp all-black suit. His face was a mask of cold stone, his "boss mood" in full effect.

Adrian stood up, attempting to walk toward the bathroom, but as soon as he took a step, he let out a sharp hiss and instinctively grabbed his balls. He started walking with a wide, awkward waddle, his knees bent outward like a penguin in distress.

Matteo watched the display from the chair, his brow twitching. "I didn’t break your balls, Adrian. Why the hell are you walking like that?"

"You wouldn’t know because yours aren’t the ones that got crushed!" Adrian snapped, waddling into the bathroom and slamming the door.

By the time he stepped out of the shower, breakfast was already waiting.

Adrian ate a few quiet bites, his mind elsewhere, already planning how to get away from Matteo... and never look back.

When they went downstairs, Tony and the others were already dressed and waiting. It was clear they were heading somewhere important. Adrian said nothing and simply walked past them.

Tony took the front seat beside the driver, while Matteo and Adrian sat in the back. A line of black cars followed as they drove out of the gates. Adrian wanted to ask where they were going, but he held back. It wasn’t his business.

"I’m going straight to my studio," Adrian muttered.

Matteo was focused, staring out the window with an intense look in his eyes. He didn’t even glance at Adrian until the car pulled up to the studio. Before Adrian could hop out, Matteo’s hand shot out, catching his wrist.

"Unblock me before you get out," Matteo said.

Adrian sighed. He knew better than to argue when Matteo used that tone. He pulled out his phone and hit unblock right in front of him.

"I’ll be texting you. Answer me," Matteo warned. Adrian gave a stiff nod and stepped out, watching the line of black cars disappear down the street.

Adrian limped into his studio, still moving with that funny, wide-legged gait. Throughout the day, Kate and James kept pulling him aside. "Adrian, what happened? Did you fall?"

"I... I hit myself on a corner. A very sharp corner," Adrian lied, his face heating up.

That evening, Adrian met Frank and Charles at their usual spot. As they settled in with drinks, Frank leaned in. "So, has Matteo finally backed off, or is he still on your neck?"

Adrian cleared his throat and glanced around. "That’s not the point. I have a question."

Charles nodded. "Go ahead."

Adrian leaned in slightly. "Do you guys know if Matteo has a twin brother?"

"His name is Mark," Charles said, lowering his voice. "He’s the complete opposite of Matteo. Calm, friendly... easy to talk to."

Adrian leaned in slightly. "Go on."

Charles took a breath. "But three years ago, everything changed. There was a rumor he was kidnapped by one of Matteo’s rivals."

Adrian went still. "What happened?"

Charles glanced around before continuing. "Everything went violent. Matteo lost control. He swore that if his brother died, he’d kill everyone involved... and even those who weren’t. It was the biggest story in the underworld that year."

"Did Mark survive?" Adrian asked, his heart racing. He thought of the man he had seen in the room, the twin who looked like a ghost.

"No news since then," Charles said, shaking his head. "Everything went silent. Some say he survived in secret, but the strongest rumor is that Mark didn’t make it. People said he died that month, because Matteo went after the man who took his brother and shot his two sons. He wanted them dead, but they barely survived. People assumed it was revenge for his dead brother."

A chill ran down Adrian’s spine. If Mark was dead... then who had he spoken to in that room?

"Why are you asking?" Frank asked, suspicious.

"Nothing," Adrian said quickly, taking a long drink.

Charles leaned in, his expression serious. "Adrian, stay away from Matteo. He’s far more dangerous than you think. When he loses something he loves, he becomes a monster. Cut ties with him before you become the next reason he burns the city down."

Meanwhile, Matteo handled another matter.

The VIP lounge of the club felt suffocating. Smoke from his cigar curled toward the dim ceiling, while the heavy bass from the dance floor below thudded faintly against the soundproof glass.

Matteo sat deep in a velvet armchair, legs crossed, looking every bit the king of the underworld. Tony sat beside him with a glass of bourbon, both of them mid-conversation about the upcoming auction.

The doors swung open, and two bodyguards dragged a man inside.

The man’s knees hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. He was already trembling, his eyes darting toward Matteo with raw fear. He knew exactly who he was facing.

Matteo didn’t move. He didn’t even look at him at first. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze distant and cold.

"Mr. Marcone... please," the man stammered, his voice breaking. "I just need more time. I’m gathering the funds, I swear. Business has been slow..."

Matteo finally looked at him.

The man went silent.

The look in Matteo’s eyes felt like staring into an open grave.

"A whole week," Matteo said, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the room. "Seven days. I waited. You ignored my calls. You hid like a rat, thinking I’d forget. Do you have any idea how much I hate being ignored?"

"I’m sorry! I was, I was scared!" the man cried, pressing his forehead to the floor. "Please, just a few more days!"

Matteo leaned forward, his shadow falling over him. "I gave you a week of my patience. You wasted it. Now you have twenty-four hours."

He reached out, tilting the man’s chin up until they were eye to eye.

"If that payment isn’t in my hands by tomorrow, I won’t bother sending my men to fetch you again," Matteo said quietly. "I’ll come myself. And when I do, it won’t be to talk. I’ll erase you like you never existed. Do you understand?"

The man nodded frantically, his teeth chattering.

"Get him out of my sight."

The guards dragged him away, his pleas fading as the doors shut.