Noah could hardly contain his
excitement when they entered the lavish tailor boutique. Everything sparkled like it belonged in a palace, from the polished marble floors to the silk curtains draped over golden rods. The scent of expensive fabric and fresh lavender made Noah feel like he was finally in a dream—a surreal world far from the darkness of the auction house or the suffocating fear that used to accompany him every morning.
He practically bounced behind one of the dressing partitions, eager to try something that actually fit him properly. For the past three days, he had been wearing Alessio's oversized shirts and boxers. The sleeves always fell over his fingers, and the waistband needed constant tugging. It made him feel small and ridiculous, but a part of him also liked the warmth of the fabric—the faint scent of Alessio that lingered in every thread.
Alessio, meanwhile, had begun a calm, professional conversation with the boutique owner, a sharply dressed man in his late forties who had once handled all of Alessio's custom wardrobe. They spoke in low voices about business expansion, quality control on imported materials, and upcoming shipment issues. Alessio was just about to finalize a contract over a cigar, his voice smooth and unreadable, when a sharp voice cut through the boutique.
"Don't touch me!"
The unmistakable sound of Noah's shout.
Alessio stiffened instantly. The calm in his expression evaporated.
In a heartbeat, he was moving, storming through the shop toward the fitting area. His eyes burned with fury, his presence like a storm rolling through silk. He pulled the curtain open with one swift motion to find Noah standing stiff and flushed, while the old tailor trembled with a measuring tape in hand.
"I didn't do anything," the old man said quickly, holding up both hands. "I was just trying to take the boy's measurements. That's all, I swear."
The man looked to be in his late seventies, with white hair, a bent back, and shaky hands. He clearly meant no harm.
A murmur ran through the elegant customers nearby. "Is there a problem with that boy?" someone whispered.
Alessio's cold eyes turned to Noah.
"What's the matter?" he asked, his voice like ice, dangerously low.
Noah didn't respond at first. He looked down, his jaw trembling, then muttered, "I don't want clothes anymore. Let's go back."
Something inside Alessio snapped. His schedule was packed, and this entire trip was already off-track thanks to Noah's constant tantrums and unpredictable behavior. He stepped forward, his tone razor-sharp and commanding.
"Don't waste my time, Noah. Give him your measurements. Now."
Noah bit his lip, trembling slightly but still trying to appear defiant. His fists clenched at his sides as he stubbornly stared at the floor.
Alessio turned and walked away, muttering apologies to the boutique manager. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's... not used to being handled," he explained. The manager gave him a sympathetic smile.
Just two seconds later, Alessio heard another commotion.
"I said don't!" Noah again.
Alessio exhaled a long breath through his nose, jaw ticking in irritation. This boy… was going to drive him mad.
Without another word, he stormed back into the dressing space. The tailor stepped away, clearly shaken and confused.
"Leave it," Alessio said coolly. "I'll take the measurements myself."
The tailor, startled, stepped aside with wide eyes. Noah's own eyes widened in disbelief. "W-what?"
Alessio rolled up his sleeves, his gaze as sharp as a blade. "I said stand still. Unless you'd prefer I tie you to the mirror."
Noah stood ramrod straight.
Alessio began the measurements with mechanical precision. Shoulder to shoulder. Across the chest. Down the arms. But the moment his knuckles brushed against Noah's bare chest under the thin fabric of his trial shirt, Noah let out a breathy sound—
"Nngh..."
It was barely audible, but Alessio heard it. His hand paused.
Noah flushed deep red, eyes cast down. But he didn't move. Not a step.
Alessio didn't comment. He simply stepped behind him and wrapped the measuring tape around Noah's waist. His larger frame leaned in slightly, close enough that Noah could feel the heat of his breath against the back of his neck.
Noah's entire body tensed.
Alessio pressed his palm lightly against Noah's lower belly to steady the tape.
This time, the moan escaped like a sigh.
Alessio smirked.
He leaned in, his lips brushing Noah's ear. "Is that why you didn't want him touching you, little kitten? Afraid someone else might hear those sounds?"
Noah gasped, trembling.
Alessio moved slightly, just enough so his lips were ghosting over the shell of Noah's ear. "Or is it because only I get to hear them?"
Noah shoved him weakly, cheeks on fire. "Y-you're disgusting."
Alessio chuckled, stepping back. He handed the tape over to the old tailor.
"We'll take six sets. Slim fit. Natural fabrics only. And make it quick."
As the tailor nodded and scurried away, Noah turned to Alessio, glaring.
"Don't act like you own me."
Alessio leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "But I do. Legally, contractually, and right now, physically."
Noah opened his mouth to argue, but Alessio gave him that smirk again—the dangerous kind, the one that made Noah's stomach twist in knots he didn't understand. A heat that flushed his cheeks and made his heart pound against his ribcage.
The boutique manager returned, interrupting the moment.
"We'll deliver the completed wardrobe by tomorrow, Mr. Romano."
Alessio nodded, then gave one last glance at Noah's flushed face.
His voice was soft, but edged with warning. "Next time, kitten... don't make me work this hard just to dress you."
Noah didn't answer. He just looked away. But his ears were red.
And Alessio? He didn't miss it.
He didn't miss the way Noah's breathing changed. He didn't miss the slight quiver in his legs. He didn't miss the way Noah clenched his fists at his sides not to do something irrational like punch him or pull him closer. Noah was fire and defiance wrapped in delicate skin and oversized shirts.
As they walked out of the boutique and into the black SUV waiting outside, Noah tried to sit as far away from Alessio as possible. But Alessio didn't even look at him.
Or so Noah thought.
From the corner of his eyes, Alessio watched every move. The way Noah tugged the hem of his borrowed shirt, the way he bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the things he wanted to say. The way his lashes fluttered when the sunlight hit his face just right.
Alessio didn't believe in fate. He believed in control, in power.
But somehow… this omega, this stubborn little slave with fire in his heart and venom on his tongue, was making him question everything.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Do you guys have a beef with comments section? If not then why don't you use it? (sulky author)