[BL] The Omega Boss Mafia is Secretly a Pervert?!-Chapter 122: The Thought of Having Children

Lucien pointed at the birds. "What are their names?"

"The male is Sugar, and his mate is Syrup," Mikhail replied as he tossed them another pistachio.

"Don’t give them too much. They will get fat," he added with a sigh before taking the treats and putting them away.

As if they understood exactly what he had done, the birds immediately started yelling again. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"Fuck you Reznik! Fuck you Reznik!"

They flew off and perched on a nearby tree branch, still grumbling loudly.

"That is rude," Lucien said innocently as he leaned back against the swing bench. "I wonder where they picked up that habit."

Mikhail joined him without replying.

Sunlight filtered through the glass panels above them, warming the space as Mikhail began to swing the bench slowly.

The steady motion made Lucien drowsy. His body was exhausted, and the quiet atmosphere of the glasshouse felt dangerously comfortable.

Mikhail reached out, gently cupped Lucien’s head, and pulled him closer until he rested against his thigh.

Lucien frowned at the sight of his face looming above him, but he was too tired to resist. Fighting him physically was pointless anyway.

That was not the answer.

He needed Mikhail to be relaxed. Comfortable then careless.

If he could make him believe Lucien would never leave, then leaving would be easy.

At least, that was what he told himself, even as he felt the urge to spit in the Devil’s face fade into something more complicated.

Maybe it was because he could not bring himself to deny the possibility that Mikhail was his fated mate. The thought irritated him more than anything else.

’I do not want to be swayed by him.’

Yet his chest tightened when he felt the alpha’s hand move through his hair, slow and familiar, just like it used to when they were children.

Mikhail had shaved his head when he was twelve. Lucien, who had been seven at the time, never understood why someone so young would do something so strange. He had mocked him endlessly for it.

"Lemon head," he had called him.

Lucien chuckled softly. "Did you grow your hair out on purpose as revenge for me calling you a lemon head?"

After all, Mikhail’s hair had not been this long until he was around fifteen.

He laughed. "It has been a long time since you called me that."

He flicked Lucien’s hair playfully, earning a slap to his hand.

"I just like long hair," he continued. "You said you liked my red hair back then and wanted to dye your hair too, remember?"

"I never said that," Lucien protested. "My hair is beautiful."

"I remember you saying it when you were ten," Mikhail said smugly. "Just like how I remember you wetting the bed and begging to switch sheets with mine."

"What? That never happened!" Lucien turned his back on him immediately.

His ears burned. It seemed Diablo remembered his most embarrassing moments better than Lucien himself did.

"You will never win against me, my Star," Mikhail said as he pinched his nose gently.

"Argh! You asshole!" Lucien sat up abruptly. "I told you not to call me that. Do you not cringe at your own words?"

Mikhail shrugged. "Why would I? It is my pet name for you. It is my confession of love. You are my universe."

He wrapped his arms around Lucien and pulled him down again, his weight pressing him back onto the bench. This time, Mikhail lay behind him, holding him firmly.

One arm rested across Lucien’s chest and stomach, effectively trapping him.

"Fuck," he muttered as he grabbed Mikhail’s hand and pinched it hard. "You are unbearable."

Mikhail did not even flinch.

The Devil’s hand brushed against Lucien’s stomach before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I wonder how hot it would be when you get pregnant."

That single sentence was enough to make Lucien shiver. Never in his life had he imagined himself with a round stomach, carrying another life inside him.

The thought was terrifying.

"Shut up. I won’t get pregnant that easily."

"Oh, you are wrong about that," Mikhail replied calmly. "I am very fertile."

Lucien grimaced. "Don’t scare me like that, Reznik. Pregnancy is not for me, and neither is being a mother or a good omega for their alpha."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because you kidnapped me, asshole."

Mikhail sighed. "Right. That is disappointing." After a pause, he continued, softer this time.

"But I think you would love our child. They would be beautiful. If it were a girl, she would have your eyes and my long, wavy hair."

"And if it were a boy," he added, "he would have your blond hair and my eyes. Honestly, I hope our children are all just like you."

Lucien didn’t know why, but he could see it.

Children running along the vast shoreline, calling his name. Mikhail is beside him. The sun overhead, warm and bright, was bathing a small and perfect family in gold.

The image warmed his heart.

And terrified him even more.

"I think having a child in this kind of life is selfish," Lucien said quietly. "I don’t want them growing up as mafia children, already knowing how their lives will begin and end."

He had never been given a choice.

Caesare had allowed him to play the piano only because it did not interfere with his lessons. Lucien had never set foot in a school.

He had never known the trends kids his age followed, never gone to aquariums or amusement parks, never spent weekends doing things children were supposed to enjoy with their families.

He had never known what normal was.

He had never known the simple joy of living freely.

"Because you think I cannot protect them?" Mikhail asked.

His tone hardened, his pride clearly bruised, while Lucien only let out a soft chuckle.

"I know you can protect them," Lucien replied.

"But you can’t protect their innocence and childhood, Reznik. No one can, not if they are born from my womb."

Mikhail didn’t answer.

Perhaps he didn’t know how.

Alphas were only givers. Some of them didn’t even care about the ones who carried their children, only about continuing a bloodline.

They couldn’t feel motherhood, the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, or the constant anxiety of failing to give a child the life they deserved.

They didn’t feel it the way a mother did.

"I think," Mikhail said suddenly, "if you became my mother, I would be the happiest child alive."

Lucien froze. He turned to look at him, eyes wide, needing to make sure he had heard that correctly.

It felt strange. Unsettling.

But Mikhail was smiling, gentle and sincere.

"I was born in the slums without knowing my parents," he said quietly. "You gave me love, Lucien, and I was happy with just that."

"I think that is what children need the most. Love." He paused. "And I know you have plenty of it to give."

This was what Lucien hated about Mikhail.

This soft, gentle side of him. It was so delicate it felt like he was looking at someone else entirely. And just as quickly, that image would be destroyed when Mikhail became selfish and ruthless again.

Unreadable. Unpredictable.

But for now, Lucien knew he was telling the truth.

It calmed him.

Maybe there would be a time when he could be himself and still remain the Don of Lucero. And if he had to sacrifice one part of himself, he hoped he would choose the right one.

So Lucien said nothing.

He simply lay there, letting the sunlight warm his body and, unwillingly, his heart.

***

Vincent sighed. He truly was becoming a staff member of the Dominus estate.

Worse, he was the one responsible for Lucien’s room.

He always ended up cleaning the aftermath of their time together. It felt like a punishment. Lucien’s omega scent lingered far too strongly, overwhelming to the point where Vincent feared that one day he might lose control.

The thought disgusted him.

Lucien had always been like a brother to him. Nothing more. It was supposed to stay that way.

This time, however, he had been ordered to deliver lunch to the greenhouse where the so-called lovebirds were staying. Vincent hated the idea of showing his face to Lucien. That man would absolutely mock him the moment he arrived.

He pushed the trolley forward, quietly cursing the Crimson Diablo under his breath, when suddenly someone yanked him into a corner and clamped a hand over his mouth.

Vincent struggled instantly, kicking and thrashing in panic. His resistance faltered the moment the man spoke.

"This is a new order from the lead."

Vincent froze.

The grip loosened as his body went rigid. The man slipped something into his pocket before leaning in again.

"Give this to that omega bastard," he whispered. "Consider it your token of loyalty."

Then the man released him and walked away as if nothing had happened.

Vincent stood there, unmoving. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle.

There was no label. No name.

He knew exactly what it was.

"Poison," he muttered, swallowing hard.

His loyalty was being tested.

His hand trembled as he closed his fingers around the bottle. His gaze drifted toward the food trolley waiting beside him, neatly arranged and innocent.

Vincent swallowed again.