The Mifia Prince's obsession (MM)

Elijah

As I walk in at home, my pulse is still pounding from my sudden escape. The cool air did nothing to chase away the heat that lingered in Dante's gaze, his touch—every charged second of our encounter playing on repeat in my head.

I make my way towards the staircase, and nearly run into Elon.

She looks at me, her eyes narrowing with a mix of concern and curiosity. "What's wrong with you? You look flushed...distracted"

I force a small laugh, attempting nonchalance. "Just...needed some air, that's all."

Elon didn't let it go so easily. She studies me, clearly sensing there is more to it. "Did something happen?"

I force a smile, and brush her off with a shrug. "Just...jogged a little. Needed to clear my head." I didn't wait for her to press further, and added, " Anyways, got to go." I gently nudge her aside and head straight to my room.

Once inside, I let out a shaky breath. The safety of my room offered little comfort, though; Dante's presence still clung to me, leaving an ache I didn't know how to soothe.

Determined to regain some sense of control, I take my clothes of and head to the bathroom. I turn on the hot water and sink into the bathtub, letting the heat seep into my skin.

For a brief moment, I feel the tension ease—until my phone chimes on top of the sink. I dry up, exit the bathtub and pick it up, my stomach knotting as I read the massage from the unknown number and by what's written it's very clear who it's from.

The message read:

"Running away won't change anything Elijah. That fire you feel? It belongs to me now. And soon enough, you will too."

My heart pounds, a shiver running down my spine. His words are possessive, claiming, almost taunting me. Even with how my body is reacting and the heat flooding through me, I struggle to process the intensity behind his words.

"Shit...what have I gotten myself into?"

I walk back to my bedroom, toss the phone on my bedside table, and try to shake the sensation the message left behind, yet it lingered in the back of my mind, even as I climb into bed, feeling restless.

Even when when sleep finally claimed me, it was him who filled my dreams.

His hands are on me, rough yet lingering, tracing the contours of my body with a mix of tenderness and fierce possession. His fingers gripping, pulling me closer, his lips hovering over my skin. I shudder, the anticipation driving me mad as his lips brush over my neck, igniting sparks that shoot straight to my cock.

His voice, low and commanding, echoing in my ear, "You're mine, Elijah.  You can't hide from this." His lips move down my chest, and I gasp, each touch stoking fire that burns within me. I feel myself melt as he bites my right hip and nops on it. Leaving trails of small kisses as he goes down to my cock.

As I am surrendering to the overwhelming desire, I suddenly wake up. Breathing hard, heat pooling  in my body as I feel the wetness of my briefs. My chest heaves as I try to shake the intensity of the dream, but the feeling lingers, my skin still tingling with the memory of his hands.

I drag my hand down my face, letting out a frustrated groan. "Damn it. I need to stop this...now," but as I lay there, trying to clear my mind, I knew his words and his presence were not going to be easy to escape.

The next morning I sat at the breakfast table trying to shake off the lingering effect of last night's dream. My mother notices first, her eyes narrowing with concern as she watches me pick my food.

"Eli, honey, are you feeling alright?" She leaned closer, her voice gentle, but with a sense of worry. "You look a biy pale. Mybe you should rest today."

I give her a weak smile, brushing it off. "I'm fine, mom. Just didn't sleep well."

Before my mom could press any further, my father looked up, his gaze cold and assessing. "Didn't sleep well? at your age, you should be sharp, resilient. No room for weakness."

My chest tightens, as I try to keep my face neutral.

Gabriel let's out a quiet scoff. "I agree with father. You shouldn't be dragging yourself around like this. If you keep acting weak, you'll only give people more reason to doubt you,"

The words sting. They always do. I clench my jaw, keeping my head down as I pushed my eggs around my plate. It wasn't enough that I have to carry the weight of my family's expectations—Gabriel and my father made sure to constantly remind me of how "disappointing" they found me. They never said it outright, but the massage was clear: they'd never accept me for who I am.

My father's voice hardened, "You can't afford to act like this. You have a duty to this family. Every weakness you show is an opportunity for someone to exploit us,"

I swallowed hard, nodding stiffly even as I drifted back to Dante's message. That fire you feel? It belongs to me now. It was absurd, but something about his words had struck a chord. Something that made me feel alive. In a way I hadn't felt around my family in years.

But there I was, sitting at this table, feeling all of that vibrancy dimmed under their judding eyes.

My mom offered me a faint, Comforting smile, but she didn't dare contradict her husband. Her role in the family was mostly to observe, to comfort without challenging, and I knew she couldn't be able to shield from thier scrunity.

Gabriel gave me a mocking glance, leaning back in his chair. "Mybe a workout will do you good. Something to toughen you up. Unless, of course, you'd rather skip it." He smirked, the dig unmistakable.

I clench my fist under the table, forcing my expression neutral. The tension gnawed at me, the weight of my family's words pressing me down. All I wanted was to escape the suffocating atmosphere, but I am locked in place, forced to endure their criticism.

With a forced nod I say, " I'll be fine. Just a rough night, that's all."

Gab's smirk didn't fade, and my father's gaze remained disapproving. I focused on finishing my breakfast, each bite feeling heavier that the last.