At other times, Joey had sworn to himself. Sworn that he would no longer be the bedwarmer for the man who kept him shackled, or a walking toilet for the bastard he cursed when reaching the peak of orgasm. Unfortunately, he had broken that oath not just once or twice. Like being trapped in a vicious cycle, the pattern was always the same.
Joey took a deep breath while staring at the ceiling of the room where he lay. Domenico beside him slept face down. Like Joey, the man wore nothing under the blanket covering their bodies.
In the dim room, silence dominated. Joey felt this wasn't fair enough; after their activity ended, he was awake due to mental burdens, while the man who had drained his energy was sound asleep. Joey remembered he had once fainted on set, exhausted from a packed schedule. And now he had more rest since being entangled in a murder case. But that actually made Joey unable to sleep soundly, let alone faint.
Turning to Domenico, a desire flashed through Joey to wake the man, to beg him to 'beat' him unconscious. Joey held back. He almost repeated that vicious cycle again. And there were only two ways to break that cycle. Between him and Domenico, one of them had to die.
Damn, insomnia was driving Joey crazy. He could actually imagine stabbing Domenico in the nape with scissors taken from a drawer. Blood would spurt onto the sheets, warming his hands. Maybe after that, he could sleep peacefully for the first time in years. End the man's life, then calmly leave his mansion as if nothing happened. Joey was just waiting for the time when the consequences of his actions would come. Besides, Joey felt his life wasn't that valuable, even though he was also afraid of death.
Joey sat up when he remembered something. He rose from the bed without caring for his naked body to search for that item.
Domenico usually kept sedatives in his room, whatever they were used for, on whom, including on him. Joey needed that now. He rummaged through all the cabinets, drawers, and storage places. It took a bit of effort until Joey finally found a small glass vial containing liquid.
To inhale or drink? Joey wasn't sure, but he recklessly decided to use it. Joey didn't even wait to return to bed. He directly opened the cap and brought the vial to his mouth.
"What are you doing?" A large hand belonging to Domenico stopped Joey's movement as the vial touched his lips.
Joey turned, finding Domenico looking at him seriously. The man's eyes were slightly red, indicating he was still sleepy. It seemed Joey's rummaging through Domenico's room had disturbed the 'Ndrangheta boss's sleep.
"I need something to make me sleep," Joey answered, wanting to continue but Domenico's fingers restrained his wrist. "You keep sedatives—"
"This isn't a sedative, it's an aphrodisiac," Domenico informed him, successfully taking the vial back from Joey's hand.
The young man let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. Again, he was about to plunge himself into the vicious cycle. If only that bastard hadn't stopped him.
"Why didn't you say you couldn't sleep?" Domenico put the vial back in its place, a drawer containing similar items.
Joey didn't answer the man's question. Too busy thinking why Domenico hadn't just let him drink the liquid. Because if that happened, Domenico would be the one benefitting; dominating Joey completely, something he hadn't done in a long time. Watching Domenico walk to the other side of the room, Joey just realized the man had already put on black trousers. Shirtless, he approached while carrying something.
"According to a doctor's prescription for sleep disorders."
Joey accepted the medicine while looking at Domenico.
"It's only powder medication," Domenico knew Joey couldn't take powder medicine, but the young man had no choice.
Walking to the bed, Domenico sat on the edge of the mattress before taking a cigarette box and a lighter from the bedside table drawer.
"You still smoke?" Joey asked as he approached, too lazy to find clothes to wear, he stood in front of Domenico. Usually, the man would suck on mint candies as a substitute for cigarettes.
"You know that will kill you slowly," Joey commented, his voice flat. He was the one who had asked Domenico to quit smoking and suggested candies. "Lung cancer, heart disease—"
"I ran out of those damn mint candies," Domenico replied curtly while still lighting his cigarette. He took a deep drag, exhaling smoke into the air. "You're lecturing me as if you don't suck on cheap nicotine yourself."
Joey wasn't surprised—only a little startled—that Domenico knew. Apparently, the man's surveillance covered the bad habit he had been hiding all this time. Secretly, in his quiet apartment, Joey did occasionally seek escape in puffs of smoke.
Domenico offered his pack of expensive red Dunhill cigarettes, one cigarette still tucked inside. "Take it."
Joey hesitated for a moment before finally taking it. His slender fingers held the cigarette in a way too natural for a beginner. Domenico lit it for him, the flame from the small gold lighter illuminating Joey's face briefly.
Joey inhaled—too deeply for a first time—and immediately coughed, his eyes watering. Domenico chuckled lowly.
"Idiot," Joey muttered, his voice hoarse, but tried again. This time more carefully. He exhaled the smoke with a proficiency that made Domenico raise an eyebrow.
After a few drags, Joey handed the cigarette back. Domenico's fingers touched the tip still damp from Joey's lips as he took it. Without hesitation, the man placed it between his own lips, right where Joey's had been, and took a drag.
They shared the cigarette in silence—an unspoken ritual more intimate than either would admit. Alternating drags, the same smoke filling their lungs, the lengthening ash marking the passing time. Joey felt a subtle bitterness on his tongue, mixed with the taste of expensive tobacco and something else—something uniquely Domenico.
As the cigarette nearly finished, leaving a glowing stub, Domenico extinguished it in a crystal ashtray. No words were spoken. But in the last wisp of smoke merging in the air between them, there was a silent acknowledgment: they were both damaged, both seeking escape in their own ways, and in that ruin, they understood each other in a way that could never be explained to the outside world.
"When did you start taking sleeping pills?" Joey asked, unable to hold back the question.
Domenico didn't answer immediately. He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled. "I forgot," he said briefly.
Joey wasn't surprised. He guessed it was highly likely Domenico had been taking sleeping pills for quite some time.
"Don't take it often," he said, correcting Joey's guess as if he could read the young man's mind. "That one was just prescribed yesterday." It was Domenico's turn to ask while looking intently at him. "Have you seen a psychiatrist?"
"A psychologist a few times since this case," Joey replied, smoke escaping from between his lips.
"You need further treatment." Domenico saw Joey's handsome face looking more haggard, not to mention the dark circles under his eyes. Though not showing concern, the man knew well that psychologically, Joey was not stronger than his physical self. "You will see a psychiatrist tomorrow, also get medical treatment to feel calmer." It was an order that could not be refused.
The way Domenico stroked the top of his head made Joey comfortable, always like that. "They don't take care of you as well as I do when I take care of you. I'm right, aren't I?"
Joey hated to admit that fact. However, he felt quite capable of taking care of himself.
Joey took the sleeping pill, swallowing it with the remaining water. The bitter taste of the medicine blended with the aftertaste of tobacco on his tongue—a flavor that would stick in his memory of this night, still tolerable compared to the smoke from Domenico's favorite Dunhill.
The man had also finished with his cigarette, guiding Joey to lie down after taking the medicine and a few sips of water. Domenico pulled the blanket, covering their bodies before drawing Joey into his embrace. In that moment, the young man obeyed like a good child.
A temporary silence fell. Domenico tightened his embrace and said, "I've sent Matteo. You know, he's reliable. The problem you're facing will be resolved quickly. I promise."
Joey nodded slowly. His eyelids felt heavy as the medication began to take effect. In the arms of the man he hated, Joey finally fell asleep. Not because he felt safe, but because he had finally surrendered.
The effect of the medication came like a gentle tidal wave. Joey felt his eyelids grow heavier, the world around him beginning to blur and lose its sharp edges. The hiss of the heater from the vent turned into a distant hum, and the beat of Domenico's heart near his ear—which earlier felt like war drums—now transformed into a soothing rhythm.
Domenico felt the change in the body he held. Joey's muscles, which had been tense until now, gradually relaxed. His short, regular breaths became deeper and slower. A soft moan escaped Joey's lips as he unconsciously pressed himself deeper into Domenico's embrace, seeking warmth and stability as his body began to lose control.
"Sleep, piccolo," Domenico whispered, his voice drifting through Joey's half-conscious mind. His large hand gently traced Joey's back, feeling every vertebra now completely relaxed for the first time since they arrived at the mansion.
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