CHAPTER 67: 67: COLD SHOULDER

When Alexander finally tore away, both of them were panting, lips swollen and wet, eyes wild.

"That’s a yes, Alexander," Adrian whispered.

He didn’t wait for permission.

He dropped.

Knees hitting the cool tiles with a soft thud, hands already clawing at Alexander’s belt. The leather whispered free, the zipper rasped down, and Alexander’s cock sprang out, heavy and flushed, a bead of precum trembling at the tip.

Adrian looked up, eyes glassy with hunger and something achingly soft.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered, voice raw. "Please."

Alexander’s hand threaded into Adrian’s hair, not pushing, just holding, trembling with restraint. "Then do it," he rasped. "Show me you’re mine."

Adrian leaned in like it was worship.

His tongue came out first, slow and reverent, licking a long, wet stripe from base to tip, tracing every thick vein. Alexander’s breath punched out of him. Adrian circled the head once, twice, then sealed his lips around it and sank, taking him in inch by inch until his throat fluttered and his nose brushed the trimmed hair at Alexander’s groin.

"Jesus—fuck—" Alexander’s head fell back, hips jerking involuntarily.

Adrian pulled off with a wet, filthy sound, lips glistening, then dove back down, deeper, faster, cheeks hollowing as he sucked like his life depended on it. His hands gripped Alexander’s thighs, nails digging in, anchoring himself as he bobbed, tongue swirling, throat working around the intrusion. Saliva slicked his chin, dripped onto Alexander’s slacks, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be messy. Wanted Alexander to lose his mind.

Alexander’s control was shattered.

His hips snapped forward, fucking into that perfect, eager mouth in short, desperate thrusts. "That’s it," he growled, voice shredded. "Take it—fuck—take every inch like you were made for it."

Adrian moaned around him, the vibration ripping a curse from Alexander’s throat. Tears streaked Adrian’s cheeks from the stretch, but his eyes, when they flicked up, were blown wide with lust and something heartbreakingly tender.

Alexander saw it and nearly came on the spot.

He hauled Adrian off by the hair, just enough to speak, voice hoarse. "Look at me."

Adrian did, lips swollen, chin dripping, eyes shining.

"I’m not Sebastian," Alexander said, rough and low. "I’m not some boy chasing you. I’m the man who owns you. And you—" his thumb smeared across Adrian’s wet bottom lip, "—you’re mine, Adrian... mine."

Adrian’s breath hitched. A broken sound escaped him, half-sob, half-moan.

Then he surged forward again, taking Alexander to the root in one slick slide, throat convulsing, swallowing around him like he was trying to drink him down whole. His hands slid up to cup Alexander’s balls, rolling them gently, and Alexander lost the last thread of restraint.

"Adrian—fuck—I’m so—"

Adrian didn’t pull back. He took it, every pulse, every hot spurt down his throat, swallowing greedily, milking Alexander through it until the man above him was shaking, thighs trembling, fingers clenched so tight in Adrian’s hair it hurt.

When it was over, Alexander dragged him up, crushed their mouths together, tasting himself on Adrian’s tongue, kissing him like he was air and Alexander had been drowning for years.

Adrian melted against him, arms winding around his neck, body trembling with unshed tears and aftershocks.

Alexander rested their foreheads together, breathing hard.

"I’m not letting you go, Adrian," he whispered, fierce and quiet. "Not for Sebastian. Not for my mother. Not for anyone. You’re mine, Adrian. In every way."

"And you, Alex... are you mine?" Adrian dared to ask, his eyes searching.

Alexander paused, staring deeply into Adrian’s eyes.

He couldn’t answer, he didn’t know what to answer.

"Mr. Devereux, lunch is ready," Angelica’s voice informed from outside the door.

Adrian sighed and stepped away from Alexander, blinking away his tears.

"I’ll go wash up, Boss," He murmured and turned away, heading toward the door.

___

Alexander was left feeling confused for the rest of the day, Adrian hadn’t looked his way once after he left his study in the afternoon. And, now, it was time for them to go to bed... in the same room.

Things had escalated quickly at the study, none of them could control their desires, and after everything, Alexander realised that Adrian might just be able to hold some semblance of control over him.

He had never felt anything like that before, it felt like he was ready to surrender himself to Adrian, body and soul. It felt scary and exhilarating at the same time.

But he wasn’t ready to face whatever that feeling was. For now, he was Adrian’s boss, and even if he wanted more, he knew it was impossible, Adrian would never want him, not after everything he’d put him through.

So, he just had to keep his act up and never let this newfound emotion slip up.

"Sir," Angelica called, standing beside the sofa where Alexander was sitting.

"What did he say?" He asked, glancing at her face.

"He said he will come in when he is done," she informed, glancing out toward the balcony.

Alexander balled his fists as he glanced at the clock, it was almost midnight and yet Adrian refused to come back into the house. He’d taken his tablet and gone out to the balcony, that’s where he’d been for hours, leaving the house to feel quiet and empty.

"It’s alright, Angelica. You can retire for the day," He said, standing from his seat.

"Goodnight, sir," Angelica wished with an encouraging smile and then walked away.

Alexander sighed and faced the balcony a few steps behind him. He had to get Adrian inside, one way or the other.

He moved, one step after the other until he stood in front of the balcony sliding glass door.

With a deep breath, he opened the door and walked in.

Adrian sat on the floor, his back crunched as he worked on the tablet. The moment he heard the door open, he paused, closing his eyes for a second.

He knew exactly who it was and he wasn’t in the mood to face him, not after the clear rejection at the study.

Alexander walked over to Adrian, standing in front of him.

"It’s late, Adrian. You can pause your work for the day," Alexander said, staring at Adrian’s lowered head.

Adrian didn’t speak, didn’t move.

The softness in Alexander’s voice—It’s late, Adrian. You can pause your work for the day—it was the sharpest kind of cruelty after the events of the afternoon.

Alexander sighed and lowered himself in front of Adrian, "Adrian," He called softly, placing his hand on Adrian’s arm, "It’s time to sleep, alright?" He asked gently.

Adrian flinched almost imperceptibly, his grip tightening around the tablet. He refused to look up. The memory of their last interaction, of his desperate question—And you, Alex... are you mine?—and Alexander’s silence, was a raw wound.

"It’s time to sleep, alright?" Alexander repeated, his voice gentle but insistent.

Adrian finally spoke, his voice low and carefully devoid of emotion, the perfect tone of the professional secretary. "I have several overdue reports, Boss. I needed to finish them tonight to ensure I am prepared for the board meeting tomorrow."

He lifted his gaze just enough to look at Alexander’s chest, avoiding his eyes. "I understand the terms of my obedience. I will not slack on my duties. I will work here."

Alexander’s hand moved from his arm to Adrian’s jaw, gently tilting his head up to force eye contact. "Look at me, Adrian."

Adrian obeyed, his grey eyes weary and guarded, but utterly dry. He had cried all his tears in the study, and now there was only a vast, empty resolve.

"Work here?" Alexander questioned, his tone deepening. "On the floor of a cold balcony until midnight? That is not obedience. That is passive defiance. You are avoiding the Master Suite."

Adrian swallowed hard. "I was following the spirit of the command, Boss. You said I must be accessible for ’secretarial duties.’ This is my work. I have no personal will left to defy you."

He pushed the tablet into Alexander’s hand. "Here is the pending market analysis. You can review it. I am done."

He stood abruptly, his short, simple t-shirt and sweats feeling exposed under Alexander’s intense scrutiny.

"I will go to the Master Suite now, Boss. As commanded." Adrian’s voice was flat. He turned and walked past Alexander, moving like a machine programmed only for compliance.

Alexander watched him go, the tablet warm in his hand, the taste of rejection sharp on his tongue. Adrian’s composure—the cold professionalism, the utter lack of eye contact, the use of the sterile "Boss"—was a stark contrast to the passionate, challenging man who had been beneath him hours earlier.

He hated it. He hated the wall Adrian had built back up. He hated that Adrian was so clearly wounded by his inability to answer the question, Are you mine?

Alexander followed him silently into the bedroom. Adrian was already standing by the massive bed, arms crossed, waiting for the next order. He was a statue of compliance.

Alexander walked past him to the closet and pulled out a clean set of silk pyjama bottoms for himself. He tossed a fresh, oversized cotton t-shirt onto the bed for Adrian.

"Change," Alexander commanded, his voice rougher than intended. "Use the bathroom. And Adrian..."

Adrian paused, turning his head slightly.

"Do not sleep on the floor. Do not touch me. And do not talk. You will simply sleep in that bed, and you will wait for my next instruction. Do you understand?"

Adrian’s eyes flicked to the t-shirt, then back to Alexander. "Yes, Boss. Understood."

He walked into the bathroom and closed the door without a sound.

Alexander stood in the silent, immense room, suddenly feeling the crushing weight of his victory. He had broken Adrian’s will, but in doing so, he had chased away the fierce fire he had craved. He had his property, cold and obedient, but he had lost the man who dared to challenge him.

He lay down on his side of the bed, the silk sheets cool against his skin. He waited.

When Adrian emerged minutes later, dressed in the oversized t-shirt that hung loosely over his sweatpants, he looked impossibly small. He didn’t look at Alexander. He simply walked to the opposite edge of the bed, slipped under the covers, and lay rigidly on his back, staring at the ceiling.

The distance between them on the king-sized mattress felt like a chasm.

Alexander reached out, his hand hovering over the space between them. He wanted to pull Adrian close, to apologise for the silence, to answer the question—Yes, I think I might be yours, too—but the words choked in his throat. Adrian had retreated too far.

Instead, Alexander spoke the only words he could trust: a command.

"Sleep, Adrian."

Adrian didn’t respond. He simply lay still, his breathing shallow, a defeated soldier in the conquered territory of the Master Suite. Alexander stared at the ceiling too, the terrifying exhilaration of the afternoon replaced by the hollow victory of ownership.