Archive of Our Own

LOG REPORT

I had it all.

For years I planned, while holding back.

You have no idea what that does to a man like me.

I'm a cold-blooded killer, but I run hotter than hell when I'm angry. All these frustrations boil into anger. It's so intense I end up hurting you. I can't apologize because I like it. You're in pain because of me then you're comforted by me.

It sounds toxic and abusive but I'd rather be the only person to hurt you. Because I'd kill anyone else who did.

Your tears are my utter weakness. I'm murderous as fuck with my heart tearing into pieces. My gentleness is so smothering it suffocates you, and you're too free spirited to allow it, so you fight back, but deep down you love it.

I protect you without you knowing, and you're alone because of me but they're all here. I want to kill them but you'll never forgive me. I've killed others for less when it concerned you, but this would be worse than sin.

Your brother tries to reason with me and I almost hurt him, but then my brother in all but blood beats sense into me. Your father is crying, and he looks slightly like you so it pisses me off. He has never been my favorite person because I hate how much you adore him. It's fucked up, but I'm jealous of all types of love you are able to express because it'll never be me.

She was there for you.

She sat in the waiting room with your parents and I knew they wished it was her you were with and not me.

Because they know everything.

There are no secrets in this world.

And you're punishing me.

This is your revenge.

But I need you to wake up.

Wake the fuck up.

Because I'll burn down this world and you'll have nothing left to hope for.

"What is love..." Landon says to his audience. "Well, it's a need for connection. You want someone to understand you so you're not alone. Even lone wolves want a mate, and the evilest of people are either not nutured by love or they're mentally incapable of humanity. My love is cruel. It's too much for anyone to handle, be it my twin, my--- let's just say love isn't an all consuming power. It's human nature. Naturally as a narcissist I love in the reflection of my image."

"You haven't been paying attention, have you?"

"What?"

"It's not love. It's obsession and you're a god so who cares for understanding. You're worshipped wherever you go."

"Gods love."

"And it's temporary."

"I thought these sessions were meant to help me improve but you seem keen on inflating my ego. I won't fuck you. I'm married."

"For how much longer?"

"I haven't talked to him yet."

"Now we're getting somewhere."

"You're manipulating me into opening up."

"I only wish to help you, Landon."

He laughs and it's real. 

The first time he's laughed in a long while. 

"Mr. Volkov-- please calm yourself around the patient--" 

Landon is in and out of it, and he groans, struggling to lift a single finger.

Then he eventually succumbs to sleep again. 

He abhors it. 

"--I will kill the person who did this to you, Lan. When we find them, I'll kill them."

Happily, he hums as he floats. 

Brandon wanting to murder someone for him, sign him the fuck up for a front row seat. Finally there is the devotion from his twin that he's always wanted, well expected. Obviously it's his, always has been, but his other half is coming around as he should to meet him in the middle so they're connected again. 

He'd kill for Brandon, so it's reassuring to know that the sentiment is returned.

A hand is on his, warm and tight, desperately clinging like he might fall off a cliff and needs the anchor, and the sobbing sound belongs to Astrid Clifford King.

He knows his mum by the hitch of her breath and it's possibly strange but the way his family breathes, he recognizes instinctively. They're nothing like clay, not lifeless, not cold but warm blooded and his. 

"My baby," his mum says with a cracked voice and he hates that. Fury ignites throughout his bloodstream and he wishes he had the strength to get up and crush whoever did this to her.

Where's his fucking dad anyway? Why isn't Levi King here comforting his mum?! 

A beeping sound joins his mother's breathing. But this time there's a hitch of hope in between the despair. 

"Lan," she cries, hopefully. "Can you hear me, honey?"

He wishes he could give a sign but his finger can hardly move, it's too stiff. But the heart monitor had spiked with his anger. 

It deflates though since he's so tired. Intense emotion comes in bursts for him since it took a lot out of him to feel a certain way, as tiring as it was when his brain couldn't regulate them but he liked to think he was a fairly logical person. 

Though obviously that made him too bored. 

He was a genius who was too good at everything, so to break the monotony of lacking a real challenge he had sought out in search of fun that would bring excitement into his life. 

Damn, did he do something to cause this? Put himself in a coma so he could have fun watching his family panic over him? 

That wasn't something he'd ever risk though. His life was too precious to place in such a catastrophe willingly.

And--

He wouldn't do this to his parents.

Were Brandon and Glyndon even enough for them when they had experienced the pride and joy of having him first? Obviously not.

So he had to remain longer for them. 

"We're waiting for you," she promises, leaning over to kiss his forehead. 

And that's not a reassurance he needed because why would the world move on while he was stuck here, but something inside of him settles. 

Silence.

Intense silence. 

The kind of silence that razes the ground and swallows up the atmosphere so it's so hot you can hardly breathe. 

Beep. Beep. 

Silence. 

Damning and violent.

The breathing becomes explosive. 

And the silence is shattered to oblivion. 

“The only person in this entire world that's allowed to kill you is me.”

Landon's heart doesn't even spike when a weight lands beside his pillow. 

Fingers wrap around his throat. 

Reflexively, he swallows under calloused skin, and the heated brand of ownership. 

A finger touches his pulse point and slightly digs in, leaving behind a bruise for sure but he can't even twitch nor would he have been inclined to. Wondering if the man is going to kill him out of revenge since he sounds so betrayed. If he ends Landon here and now would he be put to rest from the sheer magnitude of boredom he constantly feels when he's aware, yet unable to create. 

Landon required chaos, not silence. And the Beep Beep is a ticking time bomb that he's waiting— expecting to explode. He would have preferred that to the monotony of his days. 

Drifting in and out. 

“You're mine.”

A forehead brushes against his. Their breathing mingles to one. Everything feels right in the world like Landon should be at peace. But the man is dangerous, wanting to hurt him. 

“I'm your personal devil, so whatever demons you're battling need to be vanquished immediately, because they aren't worthy of your time. It pisses me off that you think you can focus on them when I'm right here.”

The anger. So much of it could cause a volcano to erupt. The man's tone is that of a boiling heat and the fingers around Landon's throat tighten, at odds with the gentle pressing of their foreheads together. 

Silence. 

But Landon doesn't mind that much because the man's presence is loud. 

Waiting to self-destruct. 

The moment Landon wakes, he hurriedly closes his eyes while feeling out his muscles as they twitch with his movements.

Then he pretends to sleep. 

He doesn't want anyone to see him like this, and knowing that he had visitors that have already seen him frail and weak doesn't make it any better. 

Craving a shower isn't urging him to get up either since he's not completely alone when the door opens. The person is the doctor that's come by often to check his vitals, a breathing pattern he recognizes by now and the rustling of his coat as he moves around.

The nurse that usually changes his IV doesn't do it this time, but the doctor is standing by his bed for a very long time. 

Staring. 

"Fuck," Landon croaks, bored out of his mind and he wants to get out of here. 

"Hey, sunshine," the doctor says cheerfully and Landon wants to smack him in the face, the man is way too amused for his profession. Doctors needed to be serious, and he wasn't a child so he didn't need one of those coddling ones.

But he could do with the attention and expected flattering. 

"The nurse is calling Jeremy to tell him the good news, and you bet your ass he's going to be pissed that you woke up to me first. Ah, I guess that's why you were pretending to sleep. Didn't want anyone but your hubby to see you. How romantic."

"Shut the fuck up," Landon groans, head hurting from this annoying chatter first thing in the morning. Well morning for him. The sun only rose when he did. The earth was probably suffering without him, no crops growing and no sunlight for summer days so everyone was cold and shivering in the dark.

Then his eyes flutter open and he absolutely hates that he's not at his best right now, in need of solid substance since he's thinner and his muscular form that he'd been cultivating is back ten steps. Fuck. He wanted to have a body like a Greek god to match his face but now he's going to have to build his strength back up. 

"How long..." he says weakly. Weak. What a damn humiliation. 

"It's been three months," the doctor says, sounding serious like he's supposed to. “I have some questions, and I need you to be honest with me for once while reigning in your narcissistic tendencies.” 

Landon wants to break this doctor's hand for even suggesting he do anything to make his life easier. Why should he suppress his true nature for anyone? But he recognizes the dilemma that he's in so he scoffs while sitting up, brushing aside the IV drip. 

“Where am I exactly?” Landon asks first. 

The doctor doesn't answer. Instead asks rather firmly, “What's the last thing you remember?”

A hesitant pause that Landon hadn't done on purpose rebounds between them. There's no instant replay in his head at all. 

“Okay,” the doctor says. “Let's start with the basics. Your name, age, and occupation. List them out.” 

“Landon King,” he says proudly. “I'm 18, a first year art student at Royal Elite University.”

“Okay,” the doctor repeats but he sounds–

Dismayed. 

His expression is sour at least. 

“That's wrong,” the doctor says with thinning lips. “You're Landon King-Volkov and you're twenty eight years old—”

“I wouldn't hyphenate my name,” Landon points out the major discrepancy first. 

He's proud to be a King. 

A King has more wealth and power than any other family, even royalty. 

As a King, he can stomp on his enemies like they're ants or take over the world with his unlimited resources, and network of connections. He had already been working at it since he was in secondary school. His talent had earned him the recognition he deserved and he was put on a pedestal to be idolized as a perfect peerless being. 

Untouchable. 

Volkov being next to King tainted everything about him. 

Volkov— 

“I'm married?” He says incredulously. Because that takes precedence over everything else he just heard. 

Volkov—

Dr.--- he reads the man's tag– Carson nods. “Yep. And your husband is arriving soon to take you home.”

“No, I don't remember having a husband,” Landon says piteously. Giving the doctor a sad doe eyed look. “Are you positively sure I'm married? Maybe the file is corrupted.”

“You're possibly experiencing lingering side effects of being in a coma and eventually your memories will return after you spend more time with your husband,” Dr. Carson says, unsympathetically, and raises a brow. “Don't struggle, Landon, or you'll make it harder on yourself.”

Obviously Landon isn't taking orders from this doctor but he realizes he's not in a position to give the man in charge of his wellbeing a difficult time. 

The doctor's face and name is stamped into his brain and that's all the information he needs to make his life hell. 

So he demures and flutters his eyelashes. “Okay, Dr. Carson,” he reaches out for his name tag, and trails a finger over his coat. “Will you stay with me until then?” 

“Oh, so you're really doing this right now,” Dr. Carson says with a sudden grin. “Keep going and you'll pay for it.”

“Pay for what? My medical expenses,” Landon says, cocking his head to the side. “I can afford your hourly rates personally, Doctor. Maybe quit this job and work for me so I can have you at my beck and call whenever I find myself in dire straits again.”

Dr. Carson chuckles. “The first thing you do after waking up is to try to manipulate. You're fine.” He shakes his head. “Go wash up. Don't want anyone seeing you unkempt right?”

A rageful noise has to be swallowed down but the doctor is unfortunately correct. 

Landon needs a makeover. And the gunk in his mouth is awful. 

Volkov—

Volkov–

Internally sounding it out as he shaves his face, and messing around with the pronunciation doesn't change it. 

Then he looks at the aftermath of his clean shaven face in the mirror. 

Thin cheeks. 

Chapped lips. 

He looks away.

Then back. 

Older, but more delicate. Refined with sharp angular lines from the cut of his jaw to his cheekbones.

A conundrum. 

Envisioning his future included being the hottest person alive and he was going to take after his dad in posture and intensity. If he couldn't be a Viking then he would become a Greek god however he was the opposite of that. 

His pale features were sickly, looking like a tragic sleeping beauty and his mole was just a dark stain on a ghostly face. Brown hair dripped at the sides, darkening further so it looked nearly crimson. 

The whole effect was that of a beautiful prince locked away in a tower for a long time with no sunlight or sustenance and suffering at the hands of some evil villain. 

I can work with this, he thinks. Appearing deceptively fragile to get whatever he wanted. He dries his hair so it fluffs out and pulls on the pair of sweats he folds in and a plain white top. Then he leaves the washroom, his slippers padding over the floor to only halt immediately. 

Dr. Carson isn't alone. 

He's standing next to a man who Landon presumes is the husband. The phony one anyway. Landon isn't married. And no man will ever make him change his surname when he held onto that with pride. 

But the man turns from where he'd been in deep conversation with Dr. Carson, furious and he's—

The fuck.

There's no possible way. This had to be a lucid nightmare, a realm where he was trapped playing out some fucked up travesty in his consciousness. 

Not The Jeremy Volkov. 

The Savage Devil of the underground fighting ring and one of the Heathens' ringleaders

He was eighteen when Landon last checked though. Not this mature, seemingly put together man who actually takes the time out of his day to do his hair, so it wasn't a spikey mess, and present himself like a productive member of society with tailored, expensive branded suits. 

He remembers leather jackets, combat boots, and a roaring bike and the muscular sleeveless shirts that showed off his tats when he was unwinding with his group of thugs, sitting at the bars of the clubs he was only legally allowed to drink at because he was in Europe. Not like the law would stop a mafia heir from doing whatever the fuck he wanted.

Sometimes he played cards with a cigarette in his mouth under dim lighting, looking like he was some wannable mafioso in those sigma male edits. The smoke he exhaled attracted the attention of girls around him that would drop their panties in a heartbeat if he told them to, and the boys that wanted to be near him to siphon a fraction of his aura, like they could become him by association. 

The way his eyes found Landon across the crowded room with a taunting arch of a brow.

No, this couldn't be real. 

Their universities had an intense rivalry, but Landon would never have been found in any runner of the mill places, unless he needed to make a statement, unfortunately Jeremy had a certain preference in his sex life that aligned with his. How often did they stumble upon each other leaving a certain sex club? 

Though Landon had been venturing further into the darkness than he realized he had liked. 

If he hadn't known any better he would have assumed he was being stalked, but it was Jeremy, the straightest man to walk the planet though apparently not, but Landon would have never settled for him. 

Nothing about them together made any sense whatsoever.

Jeremy attending his art exhibits was laughable when the boy would rather be busting his knuckles or breaking kneecaps in a dank alleyway over dressing up for the event and sharing a room with posh socialites. 

He scoffed at Elites and called Landon an Airheaded Pretty Boy when they were in the fighting ring. But Landon was a genius, so Jeremy had no fucking idea what he was talking about, that damn mindless devil. 

“I want my parents,” he says, refusing to go anywhere with this man. 

“I've already checked you out,” Jeremy Volkov says gruffly, arms crossed. And he's been packed with muscles before but his presence is more commanding, more confident.

More oppressive. 

Landon feels attacked. “Well, I can wait in the lobby for them.”

He walks towards the door, ignoring the jittery nerves in his system.

The four sterile walls that have been his temporary home are left behind without a single remnant of emotion to spare. 

Jeremy Volkov gives Landon all of one minute of freedom before he storms after him, and without a care for the people watching, wrestles him into his arms. 

"Let me go!" He shouts, panicking. "This is a kidnapping!"

No one moves to help him. 

And he thought he lacked empathy. 

The group of men that have been waiting around for their ole great commander might have diminished anyone's intent to play the hero though since they swallow them up from view by surrounding them like royal guards as Jeremy effortlessly carries him to a black SUV.

"You're a stranger to me," Landon says, scratching at the man's forearms. "I need people that I know to be around me or else I'll never heal."

"You only need me," Jeremy says, holding him tight and pulling him over his lap in the backseat of the car. Landon really doesn't appreciate the manhandling. But he's weaker right now and he's not a moron seeking death. 

"Okay," he says calmly as possible to appease the beast while his heart handles all the emotions for him. The thump thump is incessant and annoying. It's ruining his composure. 

Jeremy grabs him by the face, calloused hands roughly angling his cheek to take a look at him. Trying not to squirm on rock hard thighs requires a whole lot of concentration since the car moves, the driver putting up the partition as his boss blatantly kidnaps a civilian. This whole mafia thing is getting on his last nerves. But Jeremy stares at him intently, grip too harsh to be loving. This whole marriage thing was definitely a sham. 

"Look at you," he says angrily. "The face of an innocent."

"I'm innocent," Landon says through an exhale.

"Oh, baby, you're not," Jeremy says, darkly amused. "But you're mine."

"I don't know you."

"You recognized me," he says confidently. "I saw it in your eyes when you looked at me."

"Look, this is all a misunderstanding. There must be another Landon King out there, some rip off name stealing discounted version of me, but I'm not your husband."

"What other Landon King would I marry when there's you?" 

Great point.

"Why the fuck are we married?" He asks. 

"Why do people get married?" Jeremy taunts him with that annoying expression, lifting a brow with his lips quirked up. Only thing that's missing is the cigarette. 

"For many reasons," Landon replies. "Money, status, prestige, convenience, etc." 

A hand settles over his waist, covering the width before there's a smack on his arse. "The fuck!" 

"Try again." 

"What, you brute? So you can spank me again?"

"Don't you like it?"

Landon hates it. 

But his lack of action for a while has perhaps given him a hair trigger, so his cock had jumped. 

"Love," he answers since he doesn't want to fall into another dangerous trap. But he doesn't believe it.

Love isn't for people like Landon, and maybe a mafia prince can have that but Landon isn't wired that way. He's not some misunderstood, broken tragic hero in a romance story where true love would save or fix him.

Been there and done that with girls who were drawn to his darkness and wanted to purify him with their love. 

Jeremy seems to think his answer deserves another punishment because he kisses him. Like he doesn't need permission to do so because it's his right. 

In a daze, Landon allows it. Tongue and teeth and completion. 

Then he pulls away with a gasp. 

He stares at Jeremy. The man is unapologetic. Staring back with only glistening lips and dark eyes.

Because he's not going to let the man one up him he bites his ear like a dog. 

"Fuck," Jeremy says, not releasing him and not sounding all that shocked or angry. Just amused and horny. "You call me a beast, but you're the dog panting after me nonstop."

Once Landon's started, he just can't stop. The man is right. It should annoy him but he finds himself licking Jeremy's ear and nibbling on the flesh and even pulling at the sides of his hair. Smelling and tasting the intoxicating scent of him.

"Baby," Jeremy says urgently. "Stop or else I'll fuck you in this car."

Landon's horny. That's all. Who gives a fuck about love right now. Or marriage. 

He'll take a fuck for his troubles, and just treat it as any other meaningless shag in his life.

But Jeremy puts an end to it. A whine follows and it's embarrassingly from Landon but he paws at the man's chest and stares with need. 

"No," Jeremy says like he hadn't started this. And he even looks pissed. "Were you really going to let me fuck you when you don't even remember that I'm your husband?"

"I know who are you, Jeremy," Landon appeases and grinds his erection down on that muscular thigh. 

"Do you like me?"

I'm dealing with an absolute lunatic, Landon thinks and that's saying something coming from him but he was born that way, this man seems to have lived a life that made him so messed up in the head.

"I would like you more if you fucked me."

Fingers brush against his cheekbone and down the side of his neck then wrap around his throat with a pressure that can be considered choking, but it's too light. 

"You're so fucking easy," Jeremy says. "It's pissing me off."

"Are you ever not?" Landon asks.

"I would be less pissed if you told me you missed me like I missed you. But I still miss you because you're not really here."

Landon has nothing to say to that. Emotion is a vacant lot for him.  "We can get a divorce," he suggests.

Prematurely since Jeremy's all caught up in his feelings and that's the last thing you say to a lovetorn man so he expects the squeeze over his throat. 

"Never," Jeremy swears, eyes turning to coal. "I'll just do it all over again, Landon."

The fingers loosen but the grip is still there to pull him in for a rough kiss. His body shakes, not used to this much activity in such a long time. How touch starved he feels when he doesn't necessarily need body contact to survive. It's just sex that gets him through boredom. 

Kissing isn't really his thing either not like this but Jeremy claims his mouth. Inside and out. Needing to bite and lick every inch of his lips and insert his tongue to gag him. No technique just animal magnetism. 

Landon pulls away, holding onto Jeremy's head to still him and catch his own breath. Jeremy pants, too, but he stares like he can have another go. But Landon's not ready. 

"How the fuck did you manage to get me knotted to you anyway?" He asks because he's curious. Jeremy is the last person he'd ever let near his vulnerable body even if Landon had been the dominant partner he would not trust this mafia prince with his back or nakedness. 

Sure the boy would plot his murder in his sleep. Though the danger is enticing. He can see himself wanting to risk it for the thrill if he's too bored. 

"Fucked you stupid and slipped a ring on your finger," Jeremy says, sounding like he's mad again. Jesus Christ. 

"I see. You're wondering if I married you because of your cock or if I like you."

Seems even Older Landon isn't attuned to his emotions either to express himself in in a way to make Jeremy feel secure. 

"You love sex," Jeremy grits out. 

"So do you," Landon says with a smirk. "I've seen you around."

"Yeah? Do you ever follow and watch?"

"No," Landon snorts. Which just pisses Jeremy off again, because he growls and grabs his arse in a punishing grip. "Why so angry?" He teases with a grin. "So you have been stalking me. Do you like the performances I put on? The blindfolds and the ropes--"

He's pushed back down on the seat but Jeremy doesn't fuck him, doesn't undress him. Just kisses.

And it's filthy as fuck.

Home is apparently a fortress. 

An isolated landscape that's protected by tall pine trees stacked alongside the thick outer brick walls leading into the inner section that's closed off by a steel gate. A retina scan was required to let them through and once inside, the car drove alongside the road that was the only bright spot in this withering place. 

Gnarly trees with red and yellow leaves took over the green pastures and summerlight.

The atmosphere is in a perpetual state of autumn because of how dreary it is with the shadows from the trees surrounding the arces of land. 

And then Landon spots it. 

Home. 

A Gothic manor. 

The kind you'd find in the middle of the woods in a ghost town, abandoned and haunted, with only foundations of a living space that's been decayed.

But this one was pristine and standing resilently proud and beautiful.

Windows clean, black paint fully coated and not a single deteriorating architectural piece on the two storey building.

He guesses there are three rooms on the top floor where the oval windows are located, and the kitchen space faced the garden where there was an outside terrace, and a pool.

Decorating the lawn were miniature statues.

All shaped to be half animal, half man, fauns or demons with those nubby horns and tails. Vines growing over them with roses stuck in between thorns. 

"Mine?" Landon asks, with no recollection of sculpting these but his signature was all over it.  

"The only decor I bother with," Jeremy says. "Come on. You'll like the interior even more."

Landon doesn't disbelieve him for a second as he eagerly gets out of the car.

There's a man standing out waiting for them near the entrance and Landon almost does a double take before he finds his poise. 

Brandon looks more mature.

What's more surprising is the happiness glowing from him since he seems less rigid and more comfortable in his own skin. But he still dresses like a boring nun so he hasn't completely changed.

"He just got out of the hospital," Brandon says, distressed when they're in earshot. 

"We didn't fuck," Jeremy says, tucking in his shirt. 

"It looks like you did something!" Brandon accuses like a scandalized nun.

But it's not like Landon's purity is at stake. 

"We kissed," Landon says. 

"Kissing-- but you look--" Brandon stops. He shakes his head. "I don't want to know. Come here Landon, let's get you situated."

"You're not my mum," Landon has to say because Brandon's acting too parental.

And he's always coddled Glyndon but this is another level, like the way he stands there in exasperation and the patience he doesn't necessarily have with Landon is now overwhelmingly present. He's treating Landon like he hadn't kicked him out of his space, demanding his own room and no longer wishing to be brothers that stuck together all the time. He had banded together with Glyndon to avoid him like he was some monster that was out to slit their throats in their sleep. All he did was remind them that he was their older brother. 

He steps back. 

"Lan," Brandon says softly. Too soft. Like he's talking to a cornered animal he means to placate. "Killian informed us about your condition and I'm here to see if I can help."

"Who the fuck is Killian?" 

A pause. Jeremy and Brandon exchange a look. Landon feels betrayed. Though he's not sure by who in this scenario.

"I don't care," he adds sharply.

Who gives a fuck. 

"Dr. Carson," Brandon says anyway. "He told us that you think you're eighteen."

"That's a breach of privacy," Landon says. "Talking about a patient without their permission, we should have him fired immediately for misconduct."

"Lan," Brandon sounds way too patient and understanding. "Dr. Carson was only providing information that we need because we're all concerned for you. But he only told us. Mum and Dad don't know because we're waiting to see how long this lasts."

"Shouldn't they be here anyway?" Landon snaps. He's their pride and joy and Brandon's presence as his twin doesn't really make up for their absence because he's confused as fuck.

Brandon doesn't even like him yet he's the one here while his parents have abandoned him to Jeremy. And Landon doesn't trust Jeremy but his instincts aren't demanding he do anything yet. He's the one who came to collect him while no one else showed up. 

There's no evident frustration on Brandon's face, he doesn't back away at his tone either. "It would hurt them, Landon, to only have one side of you again and only for a temporary moment." 

And he glances at Jeremy in a wordless telepathic communication that sets Landon off. He doesn't fucking care anymore. 

He stomps ahead, leaving Brandon and Jeremy to their private exchanges, and their need to talk about him behind his back, like they're banding together to deal with him.

Although he's never set foot in this place, he explores it like an old time haunt. Already claiming it has his own since there's no way Jeremy had picked this out personally when it has Landon's aesthetic stamped all over it. 

Within a second, his wrist is snatched up and he groans. "Are you always so clingy?"

"You love it," Jeremy lies. Because Landon can't love anything but he allows the man his delusion as he's led out of the gardens. "Let's get to know each other again. Maybe it'll jog your memory."

"Let's fuck," Landon says to that. 

"No," his own husband is so adamant about it. 

"Then I don't want to know you."

Jeremy doesn't let that slide. He's angry all over again. "I'll fuck you after we share ten facts about each other. Let's work a little hard for it."

"Just call me a slut to my face next time," Landon says, not a little bothered. "But okay. First fact about me is that I enjoy sex. Now it's your turn."

There's silence. 

Hands turn him around and Jeremy looks at him like an angry god. 

Angry all the time. Are you even happy? Landon wants to ask. Definitely not if they're married. 

"I'm an animal relying on my instincts when it comes to you," Jeremy says with a clenched jaw. 

"Animals love mating."

"Yeah, and animals oftentimes only have one life partner for an eternity. Like an imprint or soulmate."

"Hm," Landon acts intrigued. "Are you trying to imply something?"

"We're both animals," Jeremy says like it's a fact. "I don't need you to feel things you can't understand. But I do want the reassurance that it's more than attraction."

"How long have we been married?"

The question seems to delight Jeremy as his eyes brighten. He's got the wrong idea that Landon's personally invested in this but he won't burst that bubble. Information was just as important as wealth so Landon needed to know as much as possible, especially if he needed more tools at his disposal. 

"Four years. Since we were twenty-four."

"You didn't propose," Landon says. And he twists the ring over his finger. Not sure if he wants to examine it when Jeremy's watching him so intently. 

"Nope. But it was inevitable anyway."

Landon didn't really want to touch that right now especially when Jeremy had that particular gleam in his eye so he glanced away to briefly think through his question. 

"How did my parents react?" 

There's no response. 

"Do they still love me?" Landon asks insistently when Jeremy just stands there silently. 

"Of course they do," Jeremy snaps. 

"Why the silence?"

"Your dad...he still doesn't approve of us."

Landon thinks about it then he shrugs. "He wants us to be happy, even me being the way that I am.  So you're unable to prove that to him which means this isn't as romantic as you think."

"Levi King thinks I'm a maniac," Jeremy says. "That I'm not good for you because I bring out your dark impulses."

"Do you?" 

A sigh. "We bring out the worst in each other but it's not as bad as it sounds."

"My dad wasn't there," Landon says. Not knowing how he just knew. He clenches his hand. 

"He was. Trust me."

"Not inside with me," Landon says. 

"Levi and I fought," Jeremy admits begrudgingly. "Sometimes it's a blessing that Killian exists--"

"Dr. Carson--"

"Yeah, he's married to your sister."

Okay. 

So Glyndon managed to find a husband that was aggravating as fuck and Landon can agree with his father on this front.

"Sometimes, I hate you," Jeremy says rather casually."This is another fact. So there's eight left."

Landon processes this. "So you hate me, and my dad disapproves of you so much that he won't even stay by my hospital bed?" 

Silence. The kind that grates. 

"I think my dad is right."

"You and I aren't toxic," Jeremy says.

"We're not in love either." Landon doesn't know why his heart twinges but it does. Aches. He shakes his head. "I'm going to catch up with Brandon."

Brandon can be as parental as he wants with him right now because Levi King apparently doesn't want to be around for him.

Jeremy lets him go. 

In the dining room, Landon and Brandon are seated on black chairs with cups of tea on top of the table between them and it's all around cozy. Brandon fidgets somewhat with an angsty air around him though, and constantly checks his phone. 

"Call Dad for me." 

Brandon visibly hesitates. 

"Do it right now." 

He's still the older brother so he can command Brandon around whenever he wants to despite the memories that are missing, making him feel out of place, there's still the natural order of things in the world that can't be undone. 

Landon listens to the speaker.

The ringing, the quickness in which Levi answers and the warm pleasant greeting and back and forth ritual that they do. They were always closer, and Brandon idolized their dad and wanted to bond with him in any way possible even by pretending to be sassy so they could banter. Landon listens and waits. Finding the right opportunity required patience. 

"Hi, Dad," he says after his dad's finished catching Brandon up on some anecdote. 

I just woke up from my coma and you weren't there and you're still not here, is implied in his tone. 

Silence. 

"Landon," Levi's voice registers differently. A little cooler but still overall affectionate. 

"I see," Landon says and he gets up leaving the room. 

"Wait, Lan, Dad's asking--"

Landon storms up the stairs and into the first room he can find and shuts the door behind him.

Locking it. 

His dad doesn't like him, and his husband hates him. And as someone who was favored everyday of his life this feeling washing over him was akin to a fish bone being stuck in the throat. 

Jeremy doesn't knock. He slips in. 

"Let's take a tour."

"I'm tired," Landon says from where he's sprawled on the bed. 

"Okay," Jeremy says and takes that as permission to invade his personal space.

But Landon lets him. Unsure of what he wants. 

"What happened to me?" 

"..."

"Why was I in a coma?"

"..."

"I hate silence," Landon says, voice muffled.

"Are you crying?" Jeremy asks. Sounding angry. He turns Landon over roughly, and hovers over him with dark eyes. "There was an incident. I dealt with it so you're safe. I promise."

"What happened?" He asks again, not caring for the tears, the strange itchiness in his eyes because he's not used to it. Never had he thought it would be so discomforting. 

Jeremy is angry. "I can't talk about it. I'm not sure if I want to tell you."

"At least you're honest," Landon sniffles. 

"But you're not. You're never honest about anything," Jeremy says. Wow okay. 

"We're not toxic, huh," he says lightly because that sounded so blamey. Jeremy shuts his eyes. Breathes heavily. 

"You're so secretive and have so many facades that I have to crack through."

"I honestly think you're with the wrong person," Landon says because they were polar opposites but not in the way that meant they should be attracted to each other. But clashing would bring destruction because of their differences and lack of compromise. Landon knows better than anyone else and will never be undermined. Jeremy is someone that wants to dominate in all possible ways. And he's gleaned all of this in such a short time it's a wonder they're married at all.

"Don't fucking say that," Jeremy says roughly. "It's bad enough that you think you can leave me, Landon."

"Did I try?" He wonders aloud. 

Jeremy's silence is a time bomb. Landon wants it to denote so he pushes. "Did I eventually come to my senses and realize that sex isn't a reason to stay with someone I'm incapable of loving--"

"Shut up, Landon."

"If I can't remember shite then maybe it's for the best, because it means there's nothing to stay for--"

"You're mine," Jeremy cuts in viciously with a deadly undertone. "Don't mess this up for yourself. You're just as crazy as I am."

"I was born this way," Landon says. "What's your excuse?"

Jeremy drops on top of him, his weight crushing and Landon's breathless as he lays there. "I love you and it drives me crazy."

Landon doesn't know what to think, so he remains quiet, but he stares up at Jeremy, intent on examining his face, and only feels him. 

Coming home after waking up from a coma should feel grand and Landon has so many people in his life that should be checking up on him but it's relatively empty.

Brandon is here and he makes due with that but there's a hollowness in him when sits at the dining table the next morning, freshly showered and dressed in another pair of sweats and a long sleeved shirt, with an English breakfast made and plated for him. Brandon had stayed over, borrowing Landon's clothes, but seems to be very tense as his eyes glance between Jeremy and Landon and he's checking his phone again, possibly having some commitment he was worried over. 

Landon almost tells him to go but he needs Brandon here. Brandon can leave if he wants to go on his own, so Landon doesn't bring it up. Doesn't ask. 

"Niko?" Jeremy asks anyway, broad shoulders out in a tank. Tattoos on display. 

Brandon nods, his posture relaxing and a smile coming easy to his face. He's the more approachable twin, but there's that glow of happiness surrounding him that's more internal, more real. "Making sure he doesn't burn the house down while I'm away."

Jeremy has his own smile. Fond. And Landon looks away with a twinge in his heart. His fingers clench over his utensils. Then he drops them. 

"I'm going for a run," he says because he's not completely rude. And his departure is swift. 

A minute later he's leaning against the wall in the foyer of the manor putting on a pair of shoes. Sensing Jeremy is some sort of power he's sure since he knows the man followed him before he hears the footsteps. 

"I don't want you to get lost."

"I'm not an incompetent child. Navigating these grounds should be easy," Landon says.

Jeremy stares. "Brandon's here for you. And he has a family of his own to worry about. A husband and a daughter. So you can act appreciative."

"That's great," Landon says. "Really. A lesson on empathy is always fun."

Without waiting for the man to respond, he dashes out the door for his morning run. 

His muscles are sore because he didn't get to stretch but he continues anyway wanting everything to hurt. To sprain or something. Maybe it'll distract him from that stupid little twinge in his chest. 

"You can go," Landon says dismissively when he's back inside for a cool bottle of water from the fridge thirty minutes later. 

The trail had been nice, wrapping around the edges of the woods. 

Brandon doesn't need to hover anymore either. 

"I want to know if you're okay," his brother says. Staring so hard at his face that Landon can't ignore it. 

"I'm perfect," Landon says with a smirk. 

"Do you remember anything?" Brandon asks carefully, warily even. 

Landon crushes the plastic bottle in his hand. "I don't need to. It doesn't fundamentally change anything. I'm still a genius and better than everyone."

"The memories you have might make you feel better," his brother says gently, back to sounding parental. Like Levi King. He has a Dad Voice now on top of his motherhen tendencies. Just great. But Landon doesn't have a dad right now apparently, so he doesn't outright scorn this. His biggest resource right now is Brandon. 

"I don't know," Landon tries. Not at vulnerability but finding a common ground. "It seems like they're gone for a reason. It's not just side effects."

"Were you unhappy?" Brandon asks quietly. Too quietly as he leans in, like they're having a top secret conversation but then he sighs. "Stupid question when you can't remember."

"Tell me about Dad and Jeremy," Landon says, picking at the cap of the bottle. "Maybe I can figure it out."

Silence. 

But one of contemplation. 

"Dad only likes Niko," Brandon says too carefully. "Killian is working his way into his graces but I'm not sure if he'll ever approve. So it's not necessarily a Jeremy issue."

"What's wrong with Killian?" Besides having a punchable face. 

"...he's a psychopath."

Landon blinks. His fingers scraping over the cap with a need to feel anything. "Oh."

"Not that he's a bad person," Brandon rushes to say. "He's a doctor and he's good for Glyn."

"You mean Dad saw me in Killian and thought the worst of him."

"No, actually, Lan, you're the one who tried so hard to ruin their relationship and got Dad involved."

"I'm the eldest so that makes sense," Landon says, feeling looser. Brandon huffs. 

"Of course."

"Don't think I don't realize you're deflecting, little brother," Landon adds. He asked about Jeremy specifically. 

"Well," Brandon scratches the back of his head, sometimes he pulls the hair there but now he doesn't. Though he won't look Landon directly in the eye. "Jeremy's intense, and doesn't care for making a good impression. From what I remember he sat down at the table and didn't care for winning Dad over. It was like he owned that seat and no one was taking it from him. Not that he stayed long enough to try."

"Is that a reason for Dad to neglect me?" Landon already knows Jeremy is too dominant to care about approval from other men but this  borderline rudeness is expected from a thug, but Dad belonged to him. This was practically a non-issue.

Brandon's visibly unhappy. "Dad didn't neglect you. He visited. I made sure when I called him. We sat there in the waiting room together sometimes, Landon."

"But he never came inside."

"He was still there for you."

Landon goes still for a moment then abruptly throws the bottle against the kitchen wall. He wishes it exploded but it just bounces pathetically. 

Tick. Tick.

"You can go," Landon says. Not caring that he'll be left alone with the devil. 

Jeremy finds him hours later sitting in the dark on the sofa in their drawing room trying to mold a cold clump of clay he had found in the hallway closet into a shape with no true purpose than to get rid of his boredom.  

The light switching on nearly blinds him. 

"I went out for a ride," Jeremy announces as if Landon was curious. 

He hums. 

"Did you miss me?"

"Didn't even notice you were gone," Landon says. 

"Right." Instead of being angry, Jeremy's soft. He's delighted. His eyes seem to glow and he settles beside Landon, watching him intently. Landon tries to turn away but Jeremy suddenly hugs him, hands locking over his stomach and chin resting over his shoulder. "What's that?"

Landon doesn't know. But he makes something up. "Cupid."

"Looks...so damn beautiful."

"Does it?" Landon asks. 

Jeremy hums. Sounding like contented feline with his rumbling chest. "A fact, Landon. Give me one."

Oh right. They're still playing that game. "I lied about this being cupid," he says, ever the opportunist. Jeremy doesn't behave as if he's been cheated instead he chuckles, the vibrations causing Landon to slightly shudder. 

"Should have known. It's a blob with no wings."

"You said it looks beautiful."

"I was talking about your hands," Jeremy says. And Landon's heart doesn't twinge but it does something worse. 

It soars. His face feels hot. 

Clay drops into his lap. 

His fingers scramble to pick it back up, but Jeremy's manhandling him with ease, turning him to kiss. 

Landon fervently responds. A groan escapes Jeremy when Landon's hands touch him, sliding up and down his chest and over his thighs. He shoves Jeremy back onto the sofa and tries to grind on him, with his cock aching but Jeremy's quick to shut that down.

Hands grasping onto his waist when he straddles Jeremy's lap. "No sex," he says roughly with swollen lips and bright grey eyes. 

"We can make out," Landon says. Since that's on the table then he's going to tongue fuck Jeremy and get what he craves. 

"Yeah, this is a bad idea. You don't like me," Jeremy says. 

"You hate me," Landon counters, hands unrestricted therefore free to roam as he squeezes those thick pectorals with loving caresses. And he pinches a nipple. Jeremy spasms, his face ripples with an emotion that his stoic mask can't contain. 

"You're indifferent," Jeremy corrects. 

"No," Landon shows him by brushing their cocks together. "I'm in lust right now." A choked sound leaves Jeremy, half disbelief, half amusement but he seems tired. 

"You're always in lust."

"Jeremy," he says, because he needs sex and not for any other reason. "I seem to only be having sex with one singular person on the regular and that happens to be you." Whatever that means Landon doesn't know but there's significance in it somewhere. It makes no sense for Landon to return to the same person twice let alone marry someone. 

Four years of marriage and they're stuck on this, Landon thinks. It must be terrible. 

Jeremy doesn't look pleased by that, instead he looks sad. "When you remember everything again, Landon will you be honest with me?"

Landon can't promise that. He stays silent. 

"Okay," Jeremy says. And he brings Landon down on top of him so he's crushing him. But Landon's breathless because he hears the loud pulsing of Jeremy's heartbeat through his t-shirt. 

Warm blooded and his. 

A stray thought that comes and goes. 

There aren't any portraits on the walls of their home.

Not in any bedroom, not in the foyer. Not in the hallways.

He's walked around searching and found not a single hint of their faces or wedding day proudly displayed and his fingers itch, twitching for an immediate fix to this problem.

There has to be digital pictures, all in an album on a technological device or something. His phone or Jeremy's phone. A laptop. 

He searches while Jeremy is out for work. The study that belongs to the man is almost spartan, only a desk and a leather back chair with the window open and providing natural light. There's a computer on the desk alongside stacks of folders, and drawers he could look through but he pauses.

Jeremy is still a stranger to him, and if he messed with his stuff he might get angry. That doesn't deter Landon, instead it incentivizes him to further disorganize his setup. 

His husband, he thinks. His. So he'll test to see how he reacts, if this marriage is worth keeping because he doesn't have to stay with Jeremy Volkov. He's still a King after all, but there's no urge to go anywhere. 

The computer requires a password and he's locked out after a few attempts so he goes over to impatiently open up all the drawers, doesn't close them after going through the trinkets and paperwork that doesn't interest him. Nothing makes sense to him, but he thinks Jeremy is too impersonal, not a hint of who the man is shown through any of his belongings.

As he's doing mindless tasks there's a shift in the air. A sign that someone's arrived, but he doesn't bother greeting him as he knocks on wood, purposefully acting obtuse as he searches for a hidden panel that might have secret treasure. Doubtful. 

"Landon," Jeremy says, not displeased or anything just casual. "You're not going to find anything in this room."

"Why not?" 

"I don't bring work home, because I don't want it to bleed into my time with you, but this room is a poor imitation of my office at the company. It's here if I ever needed to handle any impromptu business," Jeremy shares. "Phone calls, and short deals."  

Opening up when Landon didn't force him to, just bearing his heart out. 

"Why?" He asks, popping his head over the desk from where it had been looking underneath. His eyes wide and curious on his demand. 

Jeremy walks over in a few long strides and is immediately close enough to grab his chin with surety and bring his face over to his. Staring into his eyes with their noses almost touching.

"You're mine, I'm not letting any of that touch you, and this room is yours to set on fire if you're bored."

Landon turns his chin away slightly, needing to glance away. Spice and wood, and oil polish is thick on Jeremy, and he has the urge to bury his face closer in the crook of his neck. 

"It locked me out," he laments, woefully staring at the computer.

He gaze flickers back at Jeremy when it remains silent, but the man doesn't look pissed or annoyed instead he's staring at Landon intensely.

Then he's being kissed. 

Landon kisses back, as usual, he's eager for more but Jeremy quickly detaches and goes over to the computer to type on the keyboard. In an instant the home screen with a generic wallpaper is pulled up. There's only a few apps, the ones that are pre-downloaded and some files for his work. Landon stares at it blankly. 

"What are you looking for?" Jeremy asks. 

"Pictures."

"What pictures?"

"What do you think?" Landon asks, suddenly wanting to break that icy composure. And all this kissing only to pull away before they got to the best part was starting to nettle. He had to take care of his own urges in the shower instead of his husband pleasuring him and it felt like he'd gotten a bad bargain in his marriage deal. 

"There isn't any," Jeremy says to that, surprising him. 

"So we didn't have any photographers at the wedding?" 

"We didn't have a wedding," Jeremy says without looking at him.

Disappointment courses through Landon with a slight pang before he shakes his head and stalks out of the room, eyes hot.

What the fuck?

Landon isn't in love with Jeremy Volkov but why is he treated as some dirty secret?

His dad not approving of Jeremy was a bad omen already.

Why did the Older Landon go through with this? 

As he's storming for the front door, he's caught and pulled back, wrangled into a hug he doesn't want but Jeremy crushes him there, not caring for his struggles. 

Stepping on his feet and shoving him back is like punching cotton since he doesn't move and after a while Landon's tired. He was still building up his stamina through morning jogs. His body not accustomed to so much of anything that should have been a normal function. He was no track star but he was fast and his limbs were more coordinated. But now he couldn't get free from a stupid hug, and couldn't rush out the exit quick enough. 

"Lan," Jeremy says, hands on the back of his head now where he's lowered his face into the crook of his neck. "We married without anyone knowing but we can renew our vows if you want."

"I want a divorce," he hisses. Without the taint of Volkov next to his name maybe he'll remember himself and rise like some phoenix from the ashes of this failed marriage. But Jeremy's grasp becomes suffocating after that when he squeezes Landon breathlessly into him. 

"Never," Jeremy says vehemently. "You're the one who's going to regret walking out on me."

"Why don't you fuck me?" He asks, not insecure, not even a little because he was hot even if he was sickly looking. But it's the notion. That perhaps Jeremy isn't physically interested in Landon since he remembers that Jeremy was the Straight Boy, yet why were they married, and why did he kiss Landon so passionately?

"I told you," Jeremy says. "You need to like me." 

"I don't think I ever will," Landon admits. Because he feels like he hates him right now. His eyes itch. "Why did we marry in secret?"

"It was the only way to have you," Jeremy says. "I needed to make you mine as soon as possible, so I did everything quickly without a ceremony.  But we can if you want. You just never mentioned it."

Landon slowly shakes his head. "I don't need it. I don't even like you," and his fingers grab onto where Jeremy's hands are placed and pull them off with all of his strength but the man lets go. No longer forcing him to stay there.

He runs out the front door. 

LOG REPORT

I saw him first. 

I don't feel guilty but if there's a necessary need I will put together a structurally thorough defense for my actions. I risk losing friends, but I know that I could convince them of my choice, with happiness as a factor.

We're not just friends. We're brothers through thick and thin, so I only need to show them how well we fit together for them to accept it. They can't judge. They're the monsters drawn towards people that are in need of protectors but I'm not. I crave another monster, a beautiful one.

But mine. 

[Deleted]

LOG REPORT

The blues in his eyes captivated me from across the room, the boredom and the lack of emotion. He stares at everything with a certain intensity though. Needing to study everything around him to understand.

Humans. They're his experiments. He stares at their expressions and mimicks them. Anti-social disorder? You look like a kitten that's out on it's own for the first time venturing into dangerous territory but your gaze is sharp. Predatory. 

I want to fuck you so bad. 

Worse, I might want to keep you.

[Deleted.]

LOG REPORT

I can't get it out of my head. 

How pliant you were.

Sweet.

Just for me.

I'll kill anyone else who gets to see those sides of you because they belong to me.

I did that.

I taught you how to love dick.

Me.

I don't think I need to tell you this but if I ever caught you trying to let anyone else in the way you easily let me in, I would---

[Deleted.]

LOG REPORT

He's with her. 

He's with her again. 

Why?

Why the fuck are you doing this to me?

[Deleted.]

LOG REPORT

My hatred stems from all your betrayals and you'll reap what you sow, Landon King. 

My obsession. 

[Deleted.]

LOG REPORT 

Operation Marry Blue. 

Step 1. Get him addicted to my dick.

[Deleted.]

Jeremy almost knocks over the computer. His fingers shake on the keyboard as he deletes every file he had saved.

That was so close. But he's burning up inside.

Landon doesn't remember anything so he tries not to take it too personally but everytime his lover mentions divorce or stares at him with those cold blue eyes he wants to do everything all over again, from the start if he has to as long as the obsession is returned tenfold. 

His hand reaches inside his pants because he's been aching since that kiss, and he hits play in his own head, bringing up a memory that's ingrained so deeply in his conscience he wishes he had been able to record it. 

"You're so pretty," Jeremy says with spite.

It's angry sex. Or passionate.

It's the same.

Jeremy does everything with anger and Landon is eager to try new things. This is the first time he's bottoming and it's not romantic, but it's only them two that exist out here in the wilderness, and Jeremy caught his prize so he gets to treasure it the way he wants. 

Lube is spit and blood and nothing safe but Landon wants it to hurt, even as Jeremy had the courtesy to make sure he was stretched out enough before ramming his dick into his tight heat. 

"Ahh," Landon's wanton when he's helplessly wrecked. His moans aren't the deep porngraphic kind but quiet and pitched, a sigh of pleasure that has a little whine in it. Turning into a whimper if broken hard enough.

"котенок,"Jeremy calls him that as he fucks him roughly, possessively. "So pretty. And mine, look at you being owned by me. Don't you like it?" 

Landon twitches, body bowed but chin lifted up with an impression of a willful gaze looking down upon him, despite being fucked incoherently he still clung to his arrogance. A hint of his defiance as he denied absolute submission. 

It had Jeremy fucking him harder, wanting to break his dignity into pieces and find whatever soft flesh was underneath that armor. Would he see the real Landon King? The one that didn't pretend so well?

And tears in those blue eyes, flushed cheeks and neck traveling further down his chest. Jeremy's dick explodes, filling him up, and Landon moans, jerking back with the movement. Afterwards he becomes dependant on Jeremy and that's the best part. As much as he wants to fuck Landon, it's the instance in which he's succumbing to Jeremy without a fight, peeking hazy eyes up at him, trusting-- bestowing upon him this honor of taking care of him in his vulnerable state. 

It's unraveling Landon King that gets him off. Seeing the layers underneath every mask and breaking through the facades to find that face of uncertainty. The poker face he has when he doesn't know how to react. And the vulnerability in his eyes when he realizes he's not invincible. 

"I waited for years," Jeremy mutters as he wipes his hand clean. "So, I can wait a little bit longer." 

But ten minutes later he's leaving the study to make sure Landon didn't try to make a run for it despite knowing exactly where he is. 

There's a blond Russian standing guard at the gates, or rather he's checking the security system when Landon runs out. 

His legs burn from the exercise but he's also curious to see how far he's able to explore. These grounds were sanctioned away from any other civilian life but the guards that come and go are out there, and he's glimpsed them marching around the perimeter of the estate like good little soldiers. 

The blonde Russian is quick to turn when he senses another presence but doesn't lower his defenses when he sees it's Landon. Instead he tenses up even more. Becoming more stiff somehow. 

"Mr. King?"

Must be a mouthful to say King-Volkov, Landon assumes but he stares at the man. "What's your name?" He asks with a smile. 

The man doesn't react like it's odd. "Ilya. I'm the senior guard." 

"Ilya," he says sweetly, deciding he needed to know more. "Are you going to stand there, or join me for some conversation? I'm bored."

He needed intel and this was the senior guard which meant he had a wealth of knowledge to share. But Ilya also looked like he would rather be anywhere else. As if he wasn't on that grey eyed devil's payroll. Landon isn't even the ugliest monster here, not at all. 

"I need to complete the routine checkup first," Ilya says which sounds plausible but Landon ignores that and walks over to join him. 

"I can wait," he says. 

Ilya shifts away noticeably but he's staring down at the software on the gate, hidden inside a box that he had to unlock, concentrating like it's a bomb about to go off. The precision of his fingers catches Landon's attention. 

"Tell me something," he says. "If you had a gun with one bullet in it and you were ordered to shoot one person between Jeremy and I, who would you aim at?" 

"Neither," Ilya says loyally and naively.

"But if you were forced to, because the lives of your loved ones were at stake, and you had no other choice," Landon says, reaching out to Ilya's waist where his gun holster was at. His fingers caressing the leather and metal thoughtfully. 

"I would shoot myself," Ilya says like a tragic hero but he stiffens up. "Please don't."

"Don't what?" Landon manages to sound breathless, peering under his eyelashes coyly.

But Ilya looks the opposite of seduced. Rather like he's being roasted over a pit of fire and he's internally screaming with his mouth clamped shut.

Landon soaks up the fear, enjoying that he can do this to someone that's a trained killer and a professional guard for a mafia prince.

It has a grin itching to come out but he refrains. He needs to be as virginal and innocent as possible to get to this man---

"Get your hand off him."

The fury in that command almost rips apart Landon's reformed composure and confidence but he stands his ground, unwilling to bend.

"I am reacquainting myself with a familiar face," Landon says, but his hand drops. 

"You can reacquaint yourself with me," Jeremy says furiously, moving in with the destructive force of a hurricane, loud and abrupt and suddenly there in front of Landon as his presence sucks up all the space in the vicinity. 

It's not part of any act when he leans into Ilya, he just needed some room, but Jeremy actually growls like some animal and grabs him by the shoulder. 

"Ow!" Landon winces, and enraged he pushes Jeremy. "Let go of me, you cretin! Don't think you can bully me just because I'm in your home!"

"Our home," Jeremy corrects but his hand is still there, though his grip softens. "Sorry."

"No, you're not," Landon huffs.

Then he bites his lip, glancing over at Ilya again just to check, wanting to know what move he will make. 

But Ilya is not looking at either of them. He's completely still, which intrigues Landon more, he wants to touch and see if he'll move if he's disturbed.

It fascinates him when people are immobile but Jeremy has been watching him the whole time. 

Every expression, and glance. 

"Ilya has a wife, so you're making him uncomfortable," Jeremy says as he slips further between them, his mass covering the guard, though barely.

If he means to shield Ilya from his schemes then he's ultimately failing.

Landon is good at getting what he wants. 

"Really?" He says, injecting disappointment into his voice. "I was going to learn Russian for you, Ilya just to see if we were fated--"

"You know Russian," Jeremy grinds out with flaring nostrils, "because of me."

"I don't have any memories of that so it's not a real thing," Landon says snottily, crossing his arms.

"Come back with me and I'll show you how much Russian you know," Jeremy says, all pissed. Back to being all savage and angry over the calm and collected facade he had and Landon grins inwardly, but pushes on with an innocent look.

"I'd rather run off with Ilya so we can elope and have beautiful blonde Russian babies together with blue eyes--" 

He gets picked up in an instant, hands branding hotly over his shoulder and under his thigh then he's thrown over Jeremy's shoulder, as he's carried effortlessly back to the manor.

And as his world turns upside down he laughs. 

Because the hot temper is still there and he can break through that stoic wall after all. It pleases him more than anything that he doesn't care for a stupid wedding if he can get under Jeremy Volkov's skin instead. 

Maybe this marriage thing will pan out being more fun than he imagined.

"Behave," Jeremy warns him before promptly dropping him onto their bed like he's a burden. 

Sharing a bedroom hadn't been as awkward as it should be because Landon had liked listening to the man's breathing and watching his stationary body until he eventually fell asleep himself. The mattress is a King sized, but they're both tall men so it seems more crowded with only a small section of space between them when they're lying next to one another. 

There are many fluffy pillows that are shoved up against the headboard and Jeremy grabs one to place underneath Landon's hips. 

Anticipation coils in Landon's gut despite not knowing where this is headed. Because Jeremy looks so furious. 

"You know Russian," Jeremy says. "Especially when I'm talking to you." 

And he starts speaking.

All dark promises. 

And Landon squirms.

"Do it," he dares. 

His arse is grabbed harshly and squeezed between rough handling of an angry man that wants to punish him.

There's sharp smacks over the center of both cheeks, and the sting is slight because he's not completely bared but he jolts, and his cock jumps again. His threadbare sweatpants don't hide his bulge or the leaking tip. 

"That's all?" Landon asks. Assuming the man had more to give him over this corporal punishment  "I'm not a child."

"How old did you say you were again?" Jeremy doesn't seem to actually care since his eyes are devoid of light. 

"Eighteen, but I'm no virgin." 

"Tell me," Jeremy says, dropping over him, needing to crush Landon all the time no matter what position they were in. But Landon hardly felt trapped for some reason.

The breathing and the man's heartbeat are fascinating to him. He's so alive, a walking furnace. Nothing like Landon's creations, the demons he sculpted that came to life from his fingertips, yet didn't burn. 

"Tell me everything," Jeremy says, and Landon swallows.

Murderous intent is on the man's face and he remembers this is a mafia man, not particularly hard to deal with if he was able to gather his wits, but he didn't have any pieces right now to make any of his own moves yet. His family left him with the man, seemingly unconcerned and Brandon didn't try to rescue him either.

Marriage didn't mean Landon was safe at all.

"I was fifteen when I started fucking girls," Landon says, the information practically tortured out of him. This isn't fear, not exactly but his mouth runs to get that smothering gaze to fade. "I usually did it to test their loyalties. Since they're always clinging onto Brandon but I knew they weren't serious. They were so quick to jump onto me when I showed them a speck of attention. Brandon doesn't need those groupies."

"So you fucked them," Jeremy says flatly. It's from a time before he even met Jeremy or even married him, but he looks betrayed as fuck. 

Landon's dealing with an absolute lunatic but he needs to weasel his way out, shift the blame. "I had to, because Brandon would have fallen for their lies. He's weak, always trusting in people so easily and I needed to expose them. That's the only reason." 

And it is his truth. He had shown Brandon evidence but his brother had ignored him. 

"So you fuck anyone if they're interested in your brother?"

"Only the ones I know that try to use him as a substitute for me."

"You're such a good person," Jeremy taunts, a dangerous smirk on his face. "Fucking people to get them to leave your brother alone, such heroism deserves an honory award."

"Don't fucking make fun of me," Landon says just as dangerously. 

"What are you going to do about it, baby?" Jeremy asks with his brows raised and eyes wide with false innocence. 

"I hate you," Landon snarls. "That's a fact. Can't stand you, since I first laid eyes on you, I wanted to fucking rip your cigarette out of your damn mouth and stick it into your eye socket you fucking prick--"

He's shut up by a kiss. 

But one that shocks his senses because it doesn't match the tension. It's soft and sweet and Jeremy hums, all pleased. 

And then he sits up, eyes bright. "Get dressed, we're headed out on a date."

Landon grabs a pillow and throws it at that contented face but Jeremy only laughs, raspy and dark.

Fuck him. 

"Your idea of a date is horrendous," Landon says an hour later, walking beside Jeremy as they enter the company building.

He had dressed up in khaki slacks and a simple white v-neck shirt with a black overcoat, and a pair of sports shoes, so he wasn't too frivolous, but he hated that this is where Jeremy constituted as fun. 

Work. 

Great. 

The man had only put on a leather jacket over his dark jeans. 

"There's a shooting range," Jeremy says. "Underground."

Landon looks at the elevator they're walking towards, glass and see through and he glances around with a frown over at the people walking around every floor, all dressed in suits with proper hairdos of what looks sleek and professional. He eyes their expressions, blank masks but some stress and harried people among the employees. But their postures and their sharp gazes give them away. 

"This is a mafia facility," he utters. 

Without responding, Jeremy grabs his hand and pulls him into the elevator and presses a button before Landon is even properly standing inside.

"I want to attend an art gallery," he says, taking his hand back but Jeremy adjusts his grip to cling onto his wrist instead. 

"Later," Jeremy promises. Landon snatches his wrist out of his grip and sneers. 

"Now," he's being difficult on purpose. But he needs to see what sort of art is popular these days. Whose names are in the scene and if he needed to come out and remind everyone that he was still the peerless genius with an unsurpassable talent. Maybe he'll find some of his sculptures, too. None of which have been all that great but people still treated them as masterpieces. 

"Okay," Jeremy presses another button so they're heading back up, though they have to wait until the elevator stops at it's destination.

The music in the background fills the silence,  and Landon taps his foot impatiently as the elevator makes it's round in a full minute. 

Shuddering to a stop. 

When the door slides open to a black abyss gaping at them, Landon steps out without thinking.

Not caring that behind them, the elevator shuts and slides back up.

After a few more steps, the surroundings come out of the dark as his eyes adjust. 

Fluorescent lights shining a spotlight over the entirety of the basement that was big enough to host a rave, but instead it's a training ground for some guards with a shooting range off to the side, practice targets with bullet holes in them and some punching bags hooked to the ceiling, but the men are gathered in one section around a pool table, or throwing darts at a board, laughing and drinking. An arm wrestling contest is commencing on a small table too with some people jeering.

But it's full of masculine energy. 

Their company downtime was shooting a fucking gun, and acting like a circus, and Landon really doesn't know what to feel, but his gaze sharply lands over every conceivable inch.

Nowhere he will ever be caught stepping foot in, but he walks around in interest anyway. Dark spaces captivated him regardless of the scum occupying it. 

"Jer!" 

Landon winces. 

Jeremy smiles. That fond one. 

And the shirtless giant with long black hair walks over but he briefly startles at the sight of Landon.

Then he grins. "Here for muscle training? You're as thin as a twig now." 

Landon tilts his head up and walks away because the energy radiating from this guy is intense.

And loud.

Annoying. 

"Lan," Jeremy says. "This is Bran's husband."

A record scratch as Landon halts then he walks back immediately and turns to the man with a cold look. "You?" He hisses.

"Me," the husband says, nodding with something challenging in his blue eyes. 

Landon stares harder. And the words come tumbling out through a hiss, "Brandon is an artist with some athletism, but the person he will end up with is refined and intelligent, someone our parents can be proud of because to be with any King you need the royal aura."

"I still can't believe you're an actual snake who hisses with your eyes turning into slits," the man says to his declaration, utterly amused. 

A rageful noise leaves Landon because he can't reconcile this man with Brandon. Like him and Jeremy it made no sense. 

"Niko," Jeremy cuts in calmly. "I'm bringing him over for strength training."

"Thought you'd like me weak and submissive," Landon says, needing to bring his attention back. He didn't like this warmth directed at that overgrown dog, and apparently he also tricked Brandon into a marriage. 

Niko laughs. "Submissive? No. But puny as shit then yeah, come on King, let's get in the ring." He gestures back with a thumb at a platform with mats on it near the punching bags. 

"Bran's going to have your hide," Jeremy warns but Landon shoves him aside to walk up to Niko. 

"We'll see if you're worthy of the King name," Landon says, and he holds his fists up. "I need bandages to wrap around these bad boys, and a pair of knuckle-dusters since you're a colossal titan it would only even the playing field."

"You're asking for a cheat code," Niko says, blue eyes darkening but then he's smiling wide the next second and patting Landon on the shoulder. "I'm not harming a little strand on your head until your memories return, buddy, because I'm not going to be sleeping on the couch."

Landon nods like it all makes sense then gives him a sharp uppercut upside his jaw.

Apparently Niko has anger issues because he doesn't hold back at all when he punches Landon in return, though his body shudders as he tries to restrain himself from more violence. 

"I would have killed you if I didn't know you," Niko says as the entire place goes silent.

Instead of cowering, Landon pokes the bear. "You wanted a fight, so I was giving you one." 

Niko stares at him blankly. "It was a joke." He breathes out of his nose deeply. "I laughed and smiled at you to make sure you understood that. And you punched me in the face!" Instead of anger he seems more indignant and Landon's confused by the swift change of his emotions. No wonder why he wanted to leave his presence immediately  

Brandon's husband was the scariest person in the world with all these unexplainable emotions that didn't follow a set category. And he wanted him far away from his brother. 

But before he could escalate the argument, Jeremy grabs him. "We're leaving," he says quietly, too quietly.

Landon doesn't protest. Niko huffs but goes back to where he came from. 

Not a single word is exchanged as he and Jeremy leave even though they only just entered five minutes ago. 

The car ride back home is charged with thick tension that is mounting close to an explosion but Landon stares at his face in the mirror, angling it to see the bruise over his cheek.

Jeremy's quiet but he's brewing with that anger that he seems to fuel his existence. His hands clenched so tightly over the steering wheel it shakes. The road is empty because they're headed towards their isolated Gothic domain that's far from the city, and more into the wilderness. 

"Some date," Landon complains. "I told you the art gallery would be more fun." Said no such thing but the silence is doing something strange where he feels desperate to fill the void. "We can still go since evening hasn't arrived yet and dinner at some restaurant afterwards sounds nice. Well, if you know any places that would take a reservation on the spot, but you only need to mention I'm a King, and they'll make the best seats magically available." 

There's a muscle jumping in Jeremy's jaw and Landon scoots closer to the door and stares out the window. "My morning runs are getting me back on track, so I don't need to go there again or maybe I can hit a real gym instead. I know you want me monitored, but I've been without you for longer than I've been married to you--"

The car screeches to an immediate halt, and then Jeremy's shifting the gear in reverse and speeding off the road.

For a moment, Landon thinks he's going to fly them off the ledge of the cliff, but he parks abruptly on a field of grass, so the vehicle jerks and rattles his skull. 

"So nothing came back to you at all," Jeremy says in that quiet and dangerous tone. But he's staring out the window with a hand scratching over his stubble in contemplation. 

"Oh, is that why you took me there?" Landon says, feeling a churning sensation in his gut. 

"I wanted to see how you'd react if you went outside too, because it's not the same anymore, it's a different time and everyone's grown now." 

"Are you ashamed of me?" Landon asks, not liking the tone, quickly he unbuckles his seatbelt. "Let me walk out then and we'll never have to see each other again."

"Another word about leaving me, Landon and I'll make sure you're locked inside our house forever," Jeremy says. "Actually that has merit. It's probably best if you stay longer inside our manor until your memories are back."

"I'm not a child! I've survived without you, Jeremy!"

"But you had your parents and now you don't."

"That's not true! I'm independent as fuck, I have done things without them knowing because I'm good at pretending, so stop acting like I'm some volatile immature brat!"

"You punched Nikolai in the face because you didn't like him and the you now would never resort to violence first."

"He started it," Landon says dully.

"Niko's--- that was his way of breaking the ice with you, and if he did hurt you on purpose I would have stepped in. We're here because I'm mad and I don't like feeling this way."

Landon can't stop the incredulous laugh. "You're always pissed off. But for Niko you don't want to be, go back and marry that dog and maybe I can save my brother from this sham of a marriage."

"Brandon has a family with Nikolai, they're happy and I know you're aware of that, and I don't want anyone else but you. My anger right now is one of protection. For you. I don't want to hurt my friend, so I walked out."

"You don't have any qualms about hurting me when you're mad." 

The world shifts, Landon's vision is taken up by Jeremy as he crowds into his space, arm wrapped around the back of his car seat and the other slammed up against the door handle as he leans in, staring at him intently.

"When have I hurt you?" 

Landon squeezes more into the corner as impossible as it is with his muscles straining because he's stiff.

Unable to make direct eye contact and hold his head up high when he feels that penetrating gaze burning into the side of his face. 

And the intoxicating cologne and heat from the man's proximity has him feeling one second away from combusting, so he's trying so hard to remain still, so he won't shatter. 

"Didn't like me spanking you?" Jeremy asks when Landon can't accuse him of anything, voice low and intimate. "If it's nothing physical then emotionally...did I hurt your feelings?" He sounds too serious for it to be a joke at Landon's expense but he still feels anger building inside of him.

"I'm not a child," he says, voice wavering. "I don't need this condescension."

"You're not a child," Jeremy agrees. "But you're my husband, so I want to take care of you."

When Landon doesn't say anything he reaches up to tuck loose lengthy strands of his hair behind his ear. "Want a haircut? I'll drive us back to the city and we can do whatever you want."

"Wanting to set your company building on fire is high on my priority list," Landon says, moving away, and knocking his forehead lightly against the window glass. His face feels overly hot and he doesn't know why but he can't find an expression to cover up this uncertainty so he hides away. But Jeremy doesn't appreciate that since he grabs Landon by the chin, with his rough fingers and oppressive pressure. 

"Look at me," Jeremy demands, cushioned slightly by his reverent touch as if Landon's precious. Landon faces him again, but looks at his mouth. "You're not going to hide from me because we don't do that, Landon."

"You're the one hiding me from everyone," Landon says.

"Protecting you from doing something you'll regret because I know you," he says softly, and he leans in to kiss Landon. 

Landon kisses back because he can never help himself but this time he doesn't push for more. He's tired. 

But something gives inside of him so he loosens up.

Not trust but a sense of familiarity, so he doesn't mind listening to Jeremy. 

Dinner is a small intimate affair where Jeremy cooks some pasta and steak and Landon sits there being served expectantly.

There's no candles or wine bottles but a causal atmosphere of people used to spending every day together that any moment is romantic.

But Landon's also just thinking too much about feelings when he usually doesn't. What he understands is abstract. Being aware doesn't give him understanding. But he wants...needs to understand this marriage more if he has any hope of owning any sort of leverage. Jeremy trips him up easily, so there needed to be a power exchange to balance that out. 

"Why don't we live in the upper city?" 

The traffic was horrible and commute was stressful and Jeremy lived an hour away from his workplace just to be in the wilderness.

Landon thinks of penthouses and he wouldn't mind living in one either. 

"Too many people," Jeremy says. "I like my friends, and want to hang out with them but I don't like the bustling streets when you're with me. Everything is a distraction but we do have other places, if we can't make it here. Safehouses around every block that leads home."

"Is this connected to whatever landed me in a coma?" Landon asks freely, wondering at the secrecy. He takes a few bites of pasta and it's a little plain, not heavily seasoned and sauce is on the lighter side while the steak is medium rare and cut up thinly. Instead of complaining about the quality he eats more since he's not picky, this is just fuel for his engine. 

"In a way, because you're now considered Bratva, so you need the protection," Jeremy says but doesn't elaborate beyond that so it's a dead-end. 

Landon doesn't push. Because he doesn't want to ruin this, whatever it is for the moment. The tension is soft. Not one that would give to a big bang explosion, rather padded with an undertone of anticipation that sizzles underneath his skin. He wants sex, but with Jeremy. 

He's not horny because of any sexual appetite, but rather the person in his proximity and in his senses.

That's something he can work with. 

Over the next few days, Landon observes.

Watching Jeremy doesn't give him any reaction to the blatant staring as if the man is used to having Landon's eyes on him, which means his guard is lowered while Landon tries to find vulnerable spots to prod at.

The man is comfortable in his own skin, the nudity around Landon is also a habit so he's walking around without covering up, not minding that his husband's memories are gone so he's dealing with an essential stranger. 

Awkward tension isn't usually perceived by Landon, but his face is flushed with warmth because in his experience he's never been around a handsome killer. 

Which Jeremy is. A man that kills. A boy that had killed but Landon hadn't felt intimidated by that savage devil, yet Jeremy's older now. Sharper and more intelligent and his presence is oppressive, so he's always aware of him. 

Landon's sense of attraction comes and goes like a blip on the radar, fleeting after he's gotten what he wanted. 

But Jeremy's a challenge. 

"Landon," Jeremy refuses him repeatedly, in that admonishing tone that's steadily losing patience. His hands quick to snap around his wrist to stop his wandering hands, and putting an end to any of his seductive attempts by simply turning the other way and busying himself with whatever workload he's found. 

But Landon's persistent. There's nothing else for him to do in the meantime so he's at Jeremy's heels, touching him not so slyly. And entering his space to see what his physique is like underneath his tight clothes. It's not hiding his muscles or the dark ink and his cock had been swollen in his boxers; Landon felt like he was punched in the gut because he had wanted to get his mouth on it immediately. And even over the meat of Jeremy's thighs.

Being conditioned to handle threats, Jeremy is hyperaware of Landon at all times before he even goes through with any of his actions. His wrist is just snatched up before he's reached out but Jeremy tugs him in close and traps him in his arms, locking him there against his chest. But acts like he's dealing with a squirming pet rather than someone that should be getting his blood all hot. 

Miffed, Landon starts to get off on his own, not caring if Jeremy is going to provide what his marriage vows definitely promised him. If he isn't going to fuck Landon then he'd just fuck himself. 

Though he hadn't even thought of bottoming until he saw Jeremy's naked body in the shower.

The man's hair had been soaked, black strands plastered thickly over his forehead and dripping into his eyelashes as he had stared down at Landon boldly walking in naked to join him. Instead of being enticed by what Landon had to offer with no ravishing intent of desire in his grey eyes, he simply took the bar soap from it's place, and rubbed over Landon's skin with it. Rough hands firm but mindful as he slathered soap all over Landon's body, from his arms to his legs, bending over for his calves with water running down his back.

And Landon thought it was the sexiest thing ever so his cock got hard instantly from the tease. But Jeremy had only scoffed at him with a shake of the head and ignored him. 

Well, Landon's not here for consideration.

He wants a rough fuck so he takes out Jeremy's gun from the nightstand and lubes it up while setting up for bed. Jeremy's been out in his study working some mafia business he's not privy to. He's being fucking neglected by his own husband and that's probably why the memories aren't returning. 

He doesn't know much about guns but he assumes it's a glock, or a pistol. It's not that wide of a stretch, and the muzzle fits into his mouth when he sucks it. He plays around with his hole for the first time, inserting fingers deeply as he spreads more lube around. 

Jeremy's thick fingers wouldn't have taken this long to open him up that's for sure and he whines. Hating that he has to fuck himself at all. 

The gun smells like Jeremy so he starts sliding it over his naked body to impress the man further upon his skin.

Gunpowder, that intoxicating oil, and something sharply masculine with no name to it but it reminds him of Jeremy's existence. 

Finally, he inserts the muzzle into his loosened up hole. Though he winces since it's still so cold. 

"Ah," he sighs out when he forces it deeper, not sure about the safety protocols of this whole thing but his instincts demanded he get something of Jeremy's inside and the man was denying him the use of his cock.

So his gun would have to do for now.

On their bed he gets to town with it. Arching off the pillow and making sure to hit his own prostate without worrying about keeping quiet. His toes curl impatiently though as sweat breaks over his body.

The high he's chasing isn't arriving. The intensity of his orgasm isn't tightening up his stomach, so he's just fucking himself for no reason.

But it feels good. Just frustratingly on the repeated edge of denial so he's never reaching the epic release that he wants. His thighs spread out as he grabs his cock, playing with it as he fucks himself on the gun, waiting for something to explode. His cock is leaking precum and straining in his fingers, and his hole is sucking in  the metal ridges with a greed of something that's used to being fucked and misses it, yet it's not the same. 

Too cold. Even as the metal starts warming up from his body heat, it's not the warm blooded object that he wants. 

He doesn't moan, but his breathing is pitched higher into drawn out sighs. For minutes, for hours he doesn't know but his hair starts to stick to his skin from sweat and his eyes shut from exhaustion. Chest heaving. 

"Landon."

Not an admonishment, but pure unadulterated fury. 

Instead of being afraid, Landon lets that wash over him since it works. He feels so close to the end as he fucks himself more purposefully, gaining vigor from a burst of emotion. A thrill that Jeremy's watching him so he feels more urgent and desperate. A feral edge overcomes him as he bucks up off the bed, toes curled and carrying his weight as he stares at his husband through heavy eyelids. Showing off what he's doing to himself.  

"Look," Landon says, voice all fervent and airy as his wrist twists the gun. "It's inside of me, whenever you're holding your sweet baby you'll remember how you kept denying me. At work, when you're killing someone-- ah, Jeremy you'll never stop thinking of your poor husband." 

Jeremy looks so pissed. His face so dark that Landon would have thought he was intending to murder him which is probably true.

But his nipples tighten from that gaze, and his cock jerks, splattering some drops of cum onto his stomach and he licks his dry lips, shaking with need. "Jeremy," he lets himself go. Calling out the name of the man that's been so cruel to him. 

This is his revenge. 

"Jeremy," he savors, repeating it like he knows no other word. "Jeremy, ah."

Instead of falling upon him from cracked composure, Jeremy stalks up on thudding footsteps, and rips the gun free from his hole with a harsh yanking motion. Tossing it aside so it clatters to the ground. Landon expects for it to be replaced with the man's aching cock but instead Jeremy wrestles him so he's arse up in the air and presses his fingers over his hole, feeling the dripping lube and the twitching of need. 

Landon waits in anticipation.

Breath held as fingers rub over his hole with precision, but then a stinging smack causes his entire body to jolt.  

"W-what?" He groans. Can hardly think as it happens immediately again. 

It's not a spanking.

No it is, just over his hole. Targeting something so sensitive so it hurts more but his bundle of nerves also are burning. 

His cock jumps with each smack and Jeremy's face is cut from marble. Grey eyes are the only sign of life on his brutal face and that only makes Landon cum so hard his vision whites out. 

As he slumps back in his own mess, he breathes evenly to steady the rise and fall of his chest but he peers over at Jeremy with flushed cheeks and ears, blaming it on the extensive workout instead of anything else.

Emotions like that don't exist for him, but he thinks he's unable to look Jeremy directly in the eye for whatever reason. 

Jeremy doesn't care though. He grabs Landon's chin with a firm grip so they make direct eye contact. "You ever put anything else inside of your hole again, and I will spank you so hard you bleed." 

His actions don't match his dark promise at all, he caresses Landon's hair tenderly, presses a kiss to his forehead then turns to take out some wipes from the nightstand drawer. Everything they need is just there, lube, wipes, a first aid kit even a blindfold and a bundle of rope, yet no condoms. 

I want him, Landon thinks dazily as Jeremy provides aftercare. 

Not just for a fuck but to serve him like this afterwards too. 

"I mean it," Jeremy says later when he's dropping Landon into a scalding hot bath with bubbles and scented petals. "No more of this seduction game you're playing."

Landon's head is leaned back over the tub as his feet wiggle in the water, enjoying the pressure of the jets. "Why not?" He asks. "We're married so we should be having sex. And you want me."

"I'm trying to be good for once in my entire life," Jeremy lies because he's being so selfish, and cruel, denying Landon what would probably be the best sex of his life. 

"I don't remember having sex with any men," Landon says. "Technically you would be stealing my first time with one."

"I took your anal virginity," Jeremy says abruptly. Like he needs Landon to know that right away. And his hands come out to stroke through Landon's hair. "I was the one who taught you how good it felt, so if you ever got desperate with needing something inside of you it's because I trained your body for my pleasure, Landon, no one else, or anything gets to be the one to fuck you."

Landon hums, and he stares up at Jeremy in a daze. "So you never put your gun up there for me?" 

"Only my dick," Jeremy says quietly, jaw clenched. He's actually fucking jealous over an inanimate object.

"Do I ever suck it?" Landon asks. "Because my mouth was watering at the sight of your big cock and your thick thighs."

Jeremy releases a deep breath. "Don't," is his dark warning, his eyes flashing at him too. 

Landon could keep going but he realizes that the more pent up Jeremy is then the better the payoff, so he can wait. Doesn't mean he won't tease him, so he simply nods and splashes the bubbles up at Jeremy.

"Get in," he says. "I'll keep my hands to myself, unless you want a massage. I'm veryyy good with my hands." He slyly smiles. Jeremy rolls his eyes in exasperation but is quick to join after taking off his clothes, but they forgot about the arrangement so it's a clumsy mess of limbs and water pouring over the side from displacement. 

Jeremy laughs shortly but deeply, eyes twinkling with amusement, and Landon's heart constricts sharply in his chest. Ears going hot.

He stares. 

Unabashedly.

And Jeremy stares back, brows arched almost in a taunt, but then they soften with a smile crossing over his face. So his features transform into something beautiful and warm that Landon wants to collect and lock away. 

"Sit here, baby," he says, bringing Landon closer to his lap, and he hugs him from behind and nuzzles into his skin. Jeremy's cock is hard against the small of his back, but neither make any note of it.

Instead Landon's enjoying this tension for what it is, body feeling overheated from something other than the temperature of the water and their bodies. 

The seduction attempts stop, not because he's lost interest but there's something lingering that's more intense. And it's thrilling. He wants to fall and see how endless it is. 

There's an art studio.  

Landon goes in search of it throughout the manor while leaving Jeremy slumbering on the sofa. The man's super defenseless for someone that was raised in the underworld but Landon has always been able to sneak around like a snake, covering up a large distance on quick and soundless feet. 

A library with a fireplace, the dining room. The entertainment room where the theater was set up and drawing room for guests and up the winding wooden stairs were the master bedroom, Jeremy's study, and the hallway leading to two spare rooms and a guest bathroom. Knocking on wall panels doesn't give way to any secret entryway, and he's disappointed.

But he needs his art studio. 

He needs to know. 

On his own. 

He almost passes right by it. 

But he finds it when he looks out the foggy window of the kitchen. 

The art studio is outside in the garden. 

In the shack. 

He just knows. 

The air is misty and cold when he walks out the backdoor but he's used to it. 

The shack seems daunting. 

Landon likes it. 

His art materials are probably preserved in the cellar to protect it from rotting or being contaminated. The shack has natural lighting filtering through the cracks, but the ceiling is sturdy to protect the interior from raindrops.

The sculpture and canvas are blessed with light when he opens the door and they're both covered up.

Landon stands before them for a moment with an indecision.

Which should he reveal to himself first. The painting or the sculpture? Did it matter? Was he being unnecessarily dramatic? 

The white cloth is already between his fingertips before he can think it through, and he tugs.

Slowly the sculpture comes to life before him. 

And his own body goes still as he processes what he's seeing. 

His mind turns sharply in examination as his breath escapes him. 

"Oh," he says in a small voice and that's all wrong.

His worst art was still praiseworthy, but this is--

His mind shatters.

"Landon," Jeremy says.

He's there. Always there. Sounding angry. But maybe that's not right. Worried. Desperate. It all bleeds into anger. 

Landon doesn't understand. He assumes it's anger but Jeremy is emotional. He feels a lot of other things that Landon can't comprehend.  

"You took my talent from me," he says. "Is that what happened?"

"No," Jeremy says but he sounds like he's not telling the truth. Too defensive. "You're retired. It's just a side hobby for you."

"Before or after I lost the ability to sculpt."

Silence. 

But Landon explodes before it can linger any more than a second. "If this is the cost of loving you then it's the worst fucking thing because what the fuck am I supposed to be?! I have the genius art genes, Jeremy and it's not--- it's not something I cultivated. I'm just naturally gifted. But this is worse than failure. It's a fall from grace!" 

"Do you actually love me," is all that Jeremy takes from that, so single-minded about this. "Or are you blaming me because there's no other reason you can find besides your own inner demons?" 

"I don't have inner demons, I have inspiration. And insight. The monsters in my head are my artistic perception. This is none of those things. It's---godawful."

Jeremy gazes at him analytically. Then back at the statue. "What's so awful about it?" 

"It's...the work of a fucking amateur."

Wind chimes. And Landon wants to shatter this offensive eyesore but for some reason he can't move, bolted to the spot.

The damn statue is mastered by a perception that is too instructive. With every shape it's done with no artful reslish but as a mathematical equation that needed to be solved.

An assembling of fractured pieces grouped together to make something whole as a solution. The variables were forced into the creation with technical insight, following a baseline but there's something about the clumsiness in some parts of the molding-- the hands that made these are destructive, not used to gentleness but tried to be firmly smooth yet restrictive. 

"I only wanted to understand more of you," Jeremy confesses.  

A long pause then a sigh leaves Landon. He's not sure if he's tired or relieved suddenly but his ears are hot. 

"You made this," he says. Unable to imagine Jeremy taking the time to do anything artistic. Besides picking out which tats he wanted inked on his skin. Not that he had any room left. 

"Well," Jeremy says slowly. Like he's embarrassed. "It's here for a reason. If you're looking for your art studio it's in the attic. Better lighting with the window."

Landon purses his lips and stares back at the statue. "Oh thank God," he breathes out in relief and he goes back to examining it critically. "Not bad for an amateur. Maybe you can be my apprentice."

"You just had a meltdown over it," Jeremy says but his eyes are so warm.

So hopeful. 

"My standards are unachievable," Landon says, waving a dismissive hand. "And the painting," He walks over ready to uncover the canvas but Jeremy's hand stops him. 

"Don't," he pleads. Actually pleads. And Landon complies. But he looks back at Jeremy curiously. Intrigued. 

"Are you bottoming for me?" He asks. 

Jeremy doesn't even twitch, but his voice is flat, "What gives you that impression."

"You're needy and clingy."

"Stereotypes," Jeremy says. "I'm actually hot-blooded as hell, and your worst devil." More stereotypes. 

"I can fuck a devil," he says, staring at Jeremy with a stillness of a predator waiting to strike. Head tilted to the side. "You let me do whatever the fuck I want, even in your sleep." 

"You're presumptuous," Jeremy says. But he doesn't deny it. Doesn't try to assert any boundaries. 

Which. 

"Do we have any safewords?"

Silence. 

Landon laughs. Not real but an appropriate reaction. Jeremy's not blushing but he seems avoidant, shoulders tense, and jaw clenching.

And it's funny.

Or cute. 

He doesn't know. 

But he wants to bite him. 

The manor is nearly dark in the mornings with blackout curtains but even drawing them doesn't provide extreme lighting because of all that shades from the trees, but sunlight from high up still tries to creep through.

Defiant in the world of shrouded darkness.

"Mia," Landon says aloud without much thought. 

A name.

One that's been on his conscience since he'd been molding clay. And he's molding a clump right now. 

It's something he can easily look up but a part of him is resistant for once.

The knowledge he could obtain is at a touch of his fingertips but he doesn't attempt to surf through his contacts or social media, instead opting to wander about the haunted house like a ghost.

Maybe he shouldn't be enjoying this as much, but legends intrigued him and he wanted to become one.  

Someone could walk into the manor and wonder what was keeping him here, a ghost haunting the halls of this beautiful Gothic home where he had unfinished business.

But he wasn't resentful enough to take revenge on anyone, there was no urge to cause any chaos or terrorize anyone. It's the ghost wandering aimlessly and clinging to whatever was a remnant of their life.

All he had was Jeremy it seemed. 

Brandon came by once a week, which made the sum total of his visits only three times by now, but Landon felt like he was uncovering more with every hour he spent with him. 

He still doesn't like Niko but he remembers that the man is considered part of a unit, the family he has with Brandon means he has to try. To understand.

So he asks, "Are you protecting your family from me too?" Like Glyndon, he doesn't have to clarify but it's there in the open. 

Brandon doesn't evade, not like he would have whenever Landon tried to pry. 

Instead he smiles, tired but sad. "No, Landon, I don't need to, but your niece...Leigh, she's one of your favorite people, so I don't think you want her to see you until you're sure you're ready." 

"My favorite?" 

"You love her," Brandon says with too much faith.

"I don't..." he tries to argue automatically but then he just sighs. Brandon has a daughter. A literal child, so why fuss over particulars? If they believed he loved her then he did a good job at acting his role. Though he always needed to be viewed as the best in any capacity.

"Let me see," he says instead, gesturing to his brother's phone since he's glued to it. 

And Brandon beams. 

Actually smiling with a glow, and Landon thinks maybe he does love his niece after all. If he's capable of feeling that way. 

Because he misses this. Them. 

And Brandon shows him pictures. 

For some reason, Mia flashes through his mind. At first she had been a name but now he had a visual concept. Blond hair. He thinks. Ribbons. Dresses.

Leigh has blond hair too, though dark enough to appear brown in some angles, wearing those cute dresses with hi tops that are tracked with mud. And there's a grin on her face. They're not identical at all, but there's a familiarity that gives him a headache.

Brandon notices and puts the phone away.

Resentment floods through Landon darkly, like an angry ghost he wants to give everyone a taste of the pain he's suffering because why should be be alone in this agony, of the unknown, but the concern on Brandon's face drains him of that spite.

As long as his brother paid attention to him then he could be forgiving.

"Mia," Landon repeats more loudly. Because Brandon had given him an impression of her though not on purpose. 

The television is playing some football game that neither he or Jeremy are really watching but it's on in the background as they sit on the sofa. The clay in Landon's hands is turning out to be a small figurine of a mouse, and Jeremy has a collection of guns set out on the table that he's going through to polish up like it's normal.

So maybe it is. Mafia prince and all. 

But Jeremy jolts and turns to him with wide eyes.

"Why do you remember her?" Jeremy says in a very strange voice. 

"Blue," Landon says. "The color blue. In her hair and in her eyes."

"Hmm."

"She's selectively mute," he adds on. Needing to fill the silence. "I learned sign language for her."

Jeremy's quiet. 

"Isn't she your friend?"

"Yeah," Jeremy says. 

Knowing Jeremy's friends means his memories are returning gradually. "I think...she was my muse." 

The silence is a retreat. 

Landon doesn't like it. "What's she up to now?"

"A freelance agent," Jeremy says. Guarded. 

"Seems right. Miss Independent," he chuckles. "Weird. I thought for sure...I thought..."

"Don't hurt yourself," Jeremy says angrily. Worriedly. 

"I'm not," Landon says. But he winces. "Okay. No more Mia for now."

"Or ever," Jeremy mutters. 

"Hm?"

"Nothing," Jeremy says, aggressively tossing his gun into it's box and snapping it shut. "Let's share facts."

"Are you keeping track?" Landon asks because he's pretty sure Jeremy went over the limit. He said ten but now they're over twenty. Maybe he didn't count the ones where Landon cheated. 

"Infinite until one of us gives in," Jeremy says. 

Landon doesn't really think it through when he nods. "Okay, here's a fact. I don't even like football." 

"Really?"

"Well, I don't care for it. So why is it on?" Jeremy doesn't seem all that interested either. And if they're married, and in love then Jeremy should know this basic information. Jeremy's perceptive, always analyzing everything unless Landon is hard to read. 

He's not sure if it's good to feel proud about that, but the fact that he's apparently hard to decipher for a person like Jeremy gives him an edge over the man, and that pleases him immensely. 

"You can't stand complete silence," Jeremy says, immediately reminding Landon that he knows him. "There needs to be something atmospheric to ground you and it sounds busy or chaotic enough, and I don't want you to be distracted around me. You're aware of me, and not fully focused on anything else."

"..."

"You're quiet," Jeremy says with his analytical gaze. Landon looks away, stretching out and staring at the television with a hard concentration, trying to focus on the game he doesn't care for.

There's a rasp, a chuckle.

"Tell me who wins the game." All mocking. 

Landon takes it as a challenge but Jeremy's hands are sliding up his calf and tugging on it to place his foot over his lap. And he caresses his instep. Cheater. But it's not like Landon has ever played fair. 

An hour later, he couldn't tell Jeremy who was even playing. The team colors were starting to blur when his feet were being massaged. 

There's no reason to be sneaky. Landon doesn't know why he hides out in the attic with his phone anyway. His phone that he'd discovered was on the nightstand, dead until he charged it. Throughout the first month of coming home--- for now--- he had forgotten about his social life.

Or ignored it.

It was more fair to say he forgot about his responsibilities, because they were interconnected. 

While Jeremy would have his shifts at V Corp doing whatever the fuck a Bratva member did in public society Landon is up in the attic surrounded by the structures of his masterpieces like an urchin hiding something. 

After gaining access with his thumbprint he sees that he has a lot of catching up to do. So many notifications. But he has no real urgency as he rifles through them only going through whatever he deemed important. 

Emails. 

Instagram. 

Text messages. In group chats. From family. Business partners. People wanting to conduct business anyway. 

Aiden King. 

He looks at it. 

The text.

He leaves it unopened and instead goes through his Instagram feed wondering what Older Landon is like. Strangely he doesn't feel that young so maybe this is just a mental block to protect himself, a fake age so he can pretend and use his age as a defense if he slipped up because he's too fractured. Unable to find a single facade to hold onto. Jeremy had made everything seem easy. But Landon also has a life outside of this manor. It just doesn't seem as if he's missing anything though. 

Ava and Eli are married, and he stares blankly at that. But for as much as he's been invested there's not a single emotion threading through him so he scrolls some more. 

Waiting and wondering what he's scared of. Or hoping for. 

Landon King. 

He stares at himself. A post before his coma. And that's it. 

It's nothing jarring. Nothing out of character but his heart twinges. 

Wedding anniversary. 

His fingers press onto the screen. Breath hitching.

Then he shakes out of it.

No.

He definitely didn't intend to hurt himself. And definitely not to be so cruel to do so on a special occasion. But would he even understand that? Did he go through some mental gymnastics to make logical sense of his actions?

However he's able to to see what his mind had wanted him to, because it's his thought process it's easy to see the threads and weave them together. 

Jeremy doesn't deserve that. Jeremy isn't a bad husband. Landon has no need to punish him. 

But he also doesn't have the memories to know him. Only the version that he's getting along with right now. Needing to get rid of this unpleasant sensation he hurriedly scrolls looking for anything remotely interesting enough to take his mind off this. He doesn't have enough pieces and he's only assuming. 

Aiden King. 

Right. He goes to check but he thinks of his dad. Wondering if it's connected. It's an older text. Way older. So he's been ignoring it. 

He checks. 

Bravely.

Not that he needed to be brave. 

"---Landon--"

Jeremy calling him. Always so worried. Maybe the incident has given him a reason whatever it is that he's keeping from Landon but he's in no rush to reassure him as he tries to hide evidence. 

Though, it's not forbidden to have his phone. Jeremy didn't hide it from him or try to be controlling. 

"Hey," Jeremy says five minutes later, looking windswept, hand combing through his tousled hair. He's wearing his favorite leather trenchcoat, hiding a gun at his hip and other knives strapped to his legs that Landon had caught him putting on in the morning as a routine. 

Body already a weapon of mass destruction and he required more in his arsenal. 

Eyeing up Landon like he's the only person in the room, Jeremy slides off his coat, fingers unfastening the buttons and zipper slowly until the white button up shirt underneath is exposed obscenely over his broad torso. 

The greys piercing through Landon's soul as Jeremy Volkov seduces him, looking like the Savage Devil of the Heathens with his effortless bad boy charm but also a man of sophistication, a real dangerous mafia man. 

The show goes on until he's only wearing his undershirt with his black slacks, and the gaping open collar flashes the ink on his skin.

A tease. 

The whole time Landon watches breathlessly as something primal stirs in his chest. 

A need. 

A want. 

To ruin him. 

But he glances away. Breaking the spell on his own. Mouth dry. 

"Give me a fact," Landon says, needing to own something so he doesn't fall apart. 

Jeremy doesn't hesitate. Too trusting. For a mafia prince, bred in blood and violence and a mind of a tactial genius he sure didn't have any awareness of the snake in his presence. He just keeps giving. Or a calculated response to put Landon at ease. 

"I miss you," Jeremy says. 

"Do you think of us as two different people?" Landon asks. And he stands up from the stool and walks around his tools. 

"You're mine," Jeremy says. 

"One's your husband and I'm not," Landon says. 

There's silence. 

Tension. 

Jeremy doesn't crack. But he's not unshakeably stoic either. 

He wants to ruin Jeremy Volkov and he needs to do so soon. His hands are itching and there's so much going on in his head. 

"The last thing I remember is going to the fighting ring," Landon says in a honeyed tone, but the memory was solidifying for him. "I was trying out a new scene. At first I was hesitant because my hands are too precious but the place was intoxicating. Full of scum I could put in their place while also letting loose. People see me as godly whenever I win, or create. But you, a mafia prince, scoffed at me." 

Jeremy stares.

Nods slowly.

He doesn't seem to be falling for the bait. Not tempted by this sweetness. Though Landon's incapable of sweet he's opening up. It's a man like Jeremy's wet dream.

But he approaches slowly. 

Getting closer because he can't stay away. 

Not temptation, but magnetism. They really are animals. Landon stares back at Jeremy. 

"I was attracted to you then," he says quietly. "That's a fact."

Desire blazes in Jeremy's eyes. 

And he's moving in, pulled by the seductive line that Landon masterfully invented with enough coyness. 

Lips savagely crash onto his and it's not a molding but an ownership.

Landon isn't prepared but he likes the thrill of falling into this pit of fire as he's taken none to gently by the tongue invading and claiming every inch of his mouth, exchanging spit. His cock twitches, and he grabs onto Jeremy's hair, trying to take charge as he pushes him back to get what he wants. But Jeremy's hand squeeze over his hips, and lock him in place. Rubbing their cheeks together and his stubble pricking Landon's skin. 

"Attracted to me, huh?" Jeremy says hoarsely. "Tell me more."

"I was promised a fuck," he says instead. "After ten facts."

"I changed the rules, remember?" Jeremy says, turning their heads and pressing their foreheads together. "Infinite till one of us gives in." 

"I can't really think around you," Landon realizes aloud. 

"Good," Jeremy smirks. Smiles. It's just lopsided.

The urge to ruin is still there but for now he's sated.

He'll find a way to get around to that eventually.

Patience first. 

It's a fragile peace but peace nevertheless and Landon isn't in a rush to do much but ride out the engima of this marriage before it blows up in his face.

After exploring more of the manor, impressions gradually come back so he's instinctively able to find whatever he's looking for.

Which is how he discovers the sketchbooks, stacked and encased in a carved redwood box, as if they're heirlooms.

Not hidden in some secret place, but in a closet he would have normally overlooked. Assuming they're his old ones he flips through them right there, head bowed through the ajar door,  wondering if his art has progressed somewhat over the years despite already reaching the pinnacle of evolution. 

His breath catches.

There's no wedding photos to hang up on the walls, but there are sketches of that day.

Portrait drawings completed from photographic memory, but the pictures aren't sketched by Landon because this isn't his style. 

But as he flips through more, he sees the growth, the finer details and the shading isn't done as furiously but more of Landon.

Not just from the courthouse or the front lawn of their house as he's first seen it.

Candid shots but through sketches. His heart thumps and his composure shakes.

A man that doesn't understand art has mastered it for him. No one's ever done this for him no matter how much they liked him, because it's all superficial, but this is real. 

Landon snaps the sketchbook shut and puts everything back perfectly how he found them so there's no evidence of him at the crime scene.

Overwhelmed he heads back to the attic to sculpt, using his turmoil to create. He's not sure what any of his emotions are but maybe the sculpture will give him clues.

"What is love?"

The feminine voice drones. 

In the darkness of his study, there's a tape recorder on his desk as he sits back and listens. But his hands are clenched over his thighs and the urge to maim is intense. He had come back from riding his bike for a few hours, but clearing his head hadn't seemed to work this time.

Anger boils in his bloodstream so intensely it's murderous. 

"Self-destruction."

His husband answers in that dream-like quality voice.

"What is happiness?"

"...."

"What is happiness?" Slightly more urgent but still professionally patient. 

When there's no response, she moves on so she doesn't lose him. 

"What is your favorite color?"

"...hellfire."

Static.

"--- color--"

The tape recorder is slammed shut in the drawer. 

"I'm fine," Landon says irritably when he sees who's come by to visit the next day. 

It's nine in the morning and he wants to eat his breakfast cooked by his personal chef/husband without losing his appetite. 

Because the doctor with the punchable face is here.

Dr. Carson just smiles. "The last checkup you'll ever have."

Landon glances over at Jeremy for help since the man is supposed to be on his side but his arms are crossed and he's leaning back against the kitchen counter, simply watching.

A rageful noise escapes him.

"Your temper tantrums are adorable," Dr. Carson says cheerfully. 

"I said I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that," Dr. Carson says firmly, professionalism back in place.

He's not wearing his doctor's coat but a black hoodie over some jeans but he brought along his medical kit which he placed on the dining table.

Shoving up the sleeves of his hoodie, he takes a seat and scruntizes Landon with a dissecting gaze.

"Be as honest as possible, Landon, because your health is a serious matter."

It's not parental like Brandon, but the tone of a doctor used to dealing with unruly patients. 

Landon rubs his wrists, trying not to shrink under those blue eyes.

And he's not scared, but Dr. Carson is apparently also a pyschopath so Landon is more aware of his own habits-- the way he sits, his posture, his breathing pattern. Dr. Carson is supposed to be younger than him but it doesn't feel like it.

"Headaches?"

Landon shakes his head.

"Confusion?"

A pause.

But Dr. Carson patiently waits.

Landon doesn't know how to answer that. He glances over at Jeremy, only for a split second, but he regrets it.

Quickly, he says, "No."

"Be honest."

"I am," Landon grits out.

"Okay. Do you want Jeremy to stay or leave the room for this?"

"I'm staying," Jeremy says firmly.

And Landon doesn't mind his presence but he wonders at the dynamic between him and the doctor so he observes.

Dr. Carson seems exasperated. "This is for his own benefit, Jeremy."

"I'm not going anywhere. Examine his head wound."

"I...what?" Now Landon's confused, and he doesn't know why, since he'd been in a coma, so obviously there was a head injury.

But he hadn't seen it.

Or couldn't.

His hand instinctively raises upwards to land on the back of his head.

His hair is unevenly cut.

Why hadn't he realized that?

"It'll be quick," Dr. Carson is either reassuring him or Jeremy. But when he touches Landon's hair, the most embarassing thing happens but Landon can't regulate.

He's confused now.

A sharp keening noise rips from his throat and Dr. Carson is pulled aside as Jeremy replaces him.

"Does it hurt?"

Landon pushes Jeremy away instead of answering and runs up the stairs to their bedroom.

The bathroom door is locked shut behind him before he rushes over to the sink to peer at the mirror.

He looks like a fucking changeling, inhuman, but he tries to find his imperfection.

The head wound on the back of his skull, but frustrated tears well in his eyes because he can't spot it. The angle's complicated and he looks ridiculous, but that's why he's alone. 

"Fuck," he whimpers.

It's a fucking lie.

The face staring back at him isn't some sickly prince but a coma patient, and his cheeks are gaunted not refined. The food he's been eating had been to help him since his body isn't used to anything heavy, so it's all steamed food, plain chicken breasts and rice and green beans, but he realizes he's being cared for because he's so helpless.

He is helpless.

He didn't even think about the head wound.

Knuckles don't rap on the door when Jeremy knocks, it's his entire fist in a punching flurry. He's knocking on the door like it's his opponent in the fighting ring.

"What's wrong?" Jeremy asks angrily.

"It's you! I don't need you!" Landon shouts. "This is so humilating! You must think I'm a fool that's desperate for any man, but you're not my husband! YOU'RE A CARETAKER!"

Never in Landon's life has he been treated this way. 

"I made vows," Jeremy says too calmly for someone that's always angry.

Suspiciously, Landon creeps further back, not trusting that tone, and his instinct is correct.

A few seconds later the door knob clatters to the ground. The latch is broken as the door swings open. 

"GET OUT!"

"It's a small scar, Landon, and it isn't diminishing your attractiveness, think of it as a battle wound."

Landon doesn't want a battle wound.

Because this means he lost.

But staring at Jeremy causes him to be anxious.

His husband appears murderous. 

"Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?!" He shouts in a panic.

Hands moving up to shield his own head. 

"Because you're crying," so angry even as he whispers.

A hiccup, and a shake of the head.

"Why are you even here?" He asks.

"Because I'm worried about you," Jeremy says. 

"My parents don't seem to care!" Landon cries.

He could live without them, but he still needed the attention however they never contacted him or came by to check up on him, and he had looked worse than he does now, slightly improved but still not good enough.

"They do," Jeremy says, walking closer. And his hand is over the back of Landon's head touching the part where his hair is still growing back from being shaved off. It's wavy and tousled but layered shorter than other sections, so it sticks up and he stupidly hadn't even noticed.

"What do you want? A haircut, to even this out? A picture to see your injury? Or confirmation that you're my husband."

All these solutions to his freakout. But his breath is loud and unsteady then it hitches.

"No one likes me because I look like this."

"Who gives a fuck about anyone else?" Jeremy says quietly but with a wrathful look. "You're still beautiful, Landon."

"No, I'm not, that's why there's no one else around...I was a Greek god to people and I'm not being arrogantly vain. It's the truth."

People clamored for his attention but now they could care less because he was no longer perfect.

He was deteriorated. And they couldn't abandon him soon enough.

"Who cares about them?" Jeremy says again. "They're not worth it, and you don't need them. Prove it by allowing yourself to heal." 

Landon scrubs a hand across his face, shoulders slumped.

Slowly, he nods.

A pang still passes through his chest but he chooses Jeremy over faceless strangers. 

"Kiss me," Landon demands.

Pleads.

He doesn't know because tears made his voice nasally.

But Jeremy kisses him.

On the forehead.

Landon's eyelashes flutter.

Heart in his throat. 

"Let's get your injury checked out so Killian can leave us to be alone."

Sounds pleasant as fuck. 

But the giddiness coursing through him had been from that kiss. 

Before he's aware of it his mouth has curved up, the corners pulling stiffly at his facial muscles. It had been instinctive, so he belatedly realizes what just happened. 

A smile.

Not his fake charming ones. 

Or the maniacal ones 

It feels so unnatural it has to be ugly.

And Jeremy's staring.

"Stop looking at me!" He shouts, turning away. 

"I've seen all of you," Jeremy says, roughly handling him so their faces are close. "But this smile belongs to me."

And he kisses Landon again, but on the lips.

Lunatic, he thinks.

Jeremy's weird. 

But Landon's calmed.

Or tired.

Killian is still waiting in the kitchen when they return moments later. Though he had helped himself to breakfast, and he doesn't mention what just happened instead he checks Landon's head wound then offers some pain relievers. Cites some medical jargon seriously that Jeremy pays more attention to while Landon is anxious because now he's aware.

He's not as beautiful as he once was.

Jeremy has seen him like this and worse. And still kisses him. 

What did this mean?

As Jeremy walks Killian out politely or well out of friendliness though he appears furious again, Landon grabs his own breakfast and decides to go to the attic to finish his sculpture.

Ignoring his phone that held all the answers to this new world because he was more curious about the internal landscape of his mind and the universe beyond that. He shovels eggs absentmindedly into his mouth as he examines his incomplete masterpiece.

Whispers in his conscience have led him to form this base structure and the rest was instinct and his own talent molding it to life. Setting down his half eaten plate on the stool he walks up to the torso built to be as thick and massive as a gladiator.

His brow furrows.

None of his creations have been all that pleasing to him lately despite the mass praises, but this one was actually salvagable.

Only needed more corrections and a shave down.

The abdomen is too smooth, even the grooves are too perfect based on a anatomy of a muscular man you'd find in a textbook, a bodybuilder or a model with a six pack rather than a warrior, so Landon amends that. 

When he created statues of people they were the expected course than anything he geniunely felt passionate about, even the monsters he exposed from their facades weren't all that interesting.

But this isn't a mortal man. 

Clay spins as his hands glide and shape and his heart soars with sweat beading over his harline from intense concentration.

A demigod.

Not fully a god because there's emotions to him that are more mortally human, and Landon wants to discover what it all means.

Not aloof or cold, his face is stoic sometimes, but that's a mask for his hot temper, and the rage he breathes. 

He's not impulsive though, everything seems thought out from a strategic plan rather than consideration. 

He's an animal but one that was the leader of a pack, resourceful and protective of what he deemed his.

And Landon was his.

A knock.

Abrupt enough to startle him and his chest is slightly heaving as a ragged breath whooshes out when he straightens his shoulders up.

Jeremy walks in with tendrils of smoke on his heels and eyes sparked to a flame.

"Eat," he commands, setting a tray of food down on the stool after taking the cold plate away. It's the steamed meals he's been cooking for Landon for his lunches, while dinner was more fancy and diverse.

Landon stares at him and then back at his sculpture. And he's moving on instincts, picking up a random tool and swinging it back with enough force one uses with a hammer and tries to blunt the sculpture with it.

But fingers around his wrist stop him as another hand snatches the tool from him and tosses it to the ground.

Wrath greets him, coal eyes, smoky breath. "What are you doing? You spent four hours on that."

"It's an inferior model," Landon says airily. He's not that annoyed over the wasted time, artists had different mental scapes than everyone else though he was also a god on top of that.

Since secondary school he's outdone everyone, so there was no regret at a failure being destroyed. He had already offered the world so much.

But Jeremy's so pissed.

"Inferior to what?" He demands.

Landon has to think. His brain's a little slower because he had been ripped from the zone, and pulled to the mortal realm, so everything's dull again.

Staring at Jeremy however makes it all abundantly clear.

"You."

His torso was shaped from actual war, muscles developed from years of his training in the underworld, some discoloration on his tanned skin from healed wounds and bumpy edges from scars and stitches. Not anything you'd find in a magazine of male models, not even an action movie star could go through hours of makeup to resemble the authenticity of an heir to violence and natural darkness.

Jeremy's inked body is also another chapter to his myths.

Ravenously Landon moves, tearing at the man's clothes when he's idly standing there.

But Jeremy grabs his wrists to halt him, then lifts his knuckles to his face, staring over them at Landon.

Impossibly, his face is glowing but that could be the smile on his face lighting up his eyes.

And his grey eyes illuminate the whole attic.

"Eat," he says more warmly.

In a daze, Landon complies, grabbing his food and sitting down, then in the center of the room, Jeremy starts stripping for him. Not sensually but Landon licks his lip anyway.

"Here, you can look," Jeremy says, smirking. 

I can never capture this, Landon realizes.

Because it would be cold no matter how much life he put into it. 

Warm blooded, he thinks.

And his. 

The urge to lick Jeremy's tattoos up and the imperfections over his body is so intense that he glances away with more concentration than he normally needs, just because he's helplessly drawn towards the man. Unable to keep his gaze from wandering and even away from him.

The attraction is magnetizing, more real than anything Landon has ever felt in his entire life. When he wants something he went after that with an intent to win, and once he was bored he discarded it or saved it for later until he remembered he needed it.

People were objects to him. But they all have their roles to play and he would pull on their strings like a puppetmaster.

Jeremy won't fall for his lies or his charms though Landon had none right now. Jeremy also won't do more than kiss and Landon was suddenly craving more.

But he didn't want to remind Jeremy of his own flaws, now that he knew, there was a slight awkwardness in the air. The feeble patient with a caretaker, the man he was so reliant on so he was helpless and only had his body to offer. 

Landon has a high self-esteem, so there's some embarassment over his neediness verus how composed Jeremy is despite how much of that had been his indominable control, but that served to expose their differences in maturity levels.

"Did I ever sculpt Mia?" the words are grasped from a curiousity and the mystery eluded him so much that it worked as a distraction whenever he needed one.

But Mia isn't on the forefront of his mind.

"Out of everything why do you remember her?" An accusation in that tone, but there's also a genuine need to know.

"I'm an artist," Landon says vaguely. "Since she was my muse then she's embedded deeply into my conscience."

He hasn't had many muses to play around with yet so she must have made some impression on him.

Cornflower blue.

"Since she's your friend can you call her over?"

"We're not that close," Jeremy says, super detached and he puts back on his shirt, ignoring the noise of protest Landon makes. "I'll be back for dinner."

And he's gone like he'd never been there, however his scent remains and intoxicates Landon.

There's little relief in Jeremy's absence though because he had been close to jumping the man.

Dinner is Jeremy sitting at the dining table with Brandon and Landon feels like an invader of his own home.

Jeremy didn't tell him.

Brandon usually comes by on Saturdays and today was Monday and he hadn't received any notice. 

His brother is mature now, older in a way that's becoming, a looseness to his shoulders and his hair is slightly longer in the front so it frames his face in a way that makes him more genial. But he still had the arrogant features from their father, tall and strong nosebridge and sharp jawline, and he's identical to Landon, or should be. Landon feels as if he's not the superior twin right now, as the older brother, he seems more needy and confused and lives in one house without anywhere else go, with a husband who doesn't trust him on his own. 

Seeing that they're both chatting with no secrets and utter openness, he slips out quietly and walks further from the manor.

Walking down a trail, he keeps his head low as he frowns over a complicated equation he has no variables for, but he knows Jeremy did this on purpose.

Ilya isn't always at the gate but it must be routine checkup day since he's there. His guard is up as usual but he initiates in approaching Landon instead of waiting around.

"Can you take me to the city?"

He wants to test how much power he actually has around here.

Apparently no one gave a fuck about him and his twin brother was best friends with Jeremy, and married to some overgrown mutt.

Ilya nods, and taps on his bluetooth. "I'll inform--"

"Where are you going?"

Landon rolls his eyes. It hadn't even been five minutes.

"None of you business. Come on Ilya."

"Brandon's here for you," Jeremy says.

"I don't care. I want to leave."

"Come back inside."

"Ilya, will you protect me," Landon says.

Ilya doesn't hesitate to step in, but he starts speaking Russian to Jeremy, in blatant code.

Landon can't decipher the phrases and he's furious. "I'll drive out on my own. I didn't forget how to, so open the fucking gate!"

"With what keys?" Jeremy taunts.

"Give me the keys to your car," he says to Ilya.

"I'll demote him."

"I don't care! I'm not staying! ILYA! KEYS! NOW!"

Ilya stares at them expressionlessly.

Then he takes keys out of his pockets to hand over, but the movements are so slowly telegraphed that Jeremy is able to snatch them up in a mere second.

Landon releases an unbridled noise of rage.

He didn't like being made a fool and they'll both pay, but Jeremy gathers him up in his arms again and carries him back towards the manor. Tossing the keys back over his shoulder at Ilya. 

The fight is zapped out of Landon from hours of sculpting and the hectic morning, being so angry is also draining him, so he's not struggling as hard as he could, which is probably why Jeremy sets him back down when they're near the garden. 

"Your brother's waiting inside."

"It's not Saturday," Landon says, not arguing but in need of an explanation. Though it seems deeper than that because Saturdays were meant for Brandon, specially.

Jeremy has a look of realization. "Yeah, you and Brandon spend Saturdays together almost all the time....do you remember anything explicit?"

Landon bites his bottom lip.

It comes and goes but the impressions are there. He and Brandon at V Corp. Not working though. Brandon in long oversized sweaters professors would wear and there was always paint on his sleeves or vest, similar to a coffee stain.

He shakes his head.

"Why is he here today?" He's not stupid so he's not giving Jeremy an inch until he knows his purpose.

"You remember Mia because of clay," Jeremy says. 

"What does that have to do with Brandon?" he asks impatiently.

"The environment should jog your memory, or people, but your routine hasn't been the same so I thought familarity would help."

"You're lying," Landon says flatly. "My memories aren't a priority for you." 

Jeremy sighs, rubbing up at his jaw. Staring off to the side for a moment. "I don't know if your psyche is protecting you from something traumatic or not." 

"So you think it's best to leave me ignorantly in the dark."

"No," Jeremy says sharply. "We'll get you help if it's too much but you don't seem triggered by anything."

"It's because I have no one else but you! Look at me! I'm a fucking disgraced god kicked out of Olympus for human suffering!!"

"You're not a god, Landon, you're human like the rest of us, so you're allowed to be dependant on me, because I'm your husband."

"Not my husband, but a caretaker!"

"I'm taking care of you because you're my husband," Jeremy says vehemently. "I don't have an empathic bone in my body where I'm doing this for anyone else."

Landon looks down.

"Why is Brandon here?" He asks again, wondering if he'll hear the truth this time.

Not even a moment of silence.

He's direct with it.

Grey eyes molten lava.

Voice deadly and quiet. 

And dark vindication all over his face.

"I wanted you to feel what I did whenever you mentioned Mia in our home."

There's a sharp hiss of breath from Landon and it takes a moment to realize it's a genuine laugh of amusement.

But he moves to grab Jeremy by the neck, so easily when they're about the same height. "Don't get on my bad side or I'll end up killing you," he says coldly but grinning maniacally.     

What a jealous prick, but Landon hadn't felt particularly envious.

More like unimportant.

Overlooked.

He stares at Jeremy carefully, the man's eyes are intense but he doesn't seem to care for the death threat, rather he's pleased. Or satisfied by this reaction.

God, no wonder Landon married this man.

It's the most emotions he's experienced in all his organs. 

Because Brandon is Mother Theresa he hadn't complained once about waiting for them in the kitchen for a long ten minutes, but he shoots Jeremy some sharp disapproving looks. 

Landon can laugh or smirk about it but he pretends to be meek. He also learns more about Brandon's artpieces over the course of dinner, which is healthy salmon, salad and more steamed vegatables. Landon's not picky but he knows this isn't what Jeremy's usually eats, but he cooked it anyway. So each bite dances on his palate. 

"Niko wanted to come but I know he would be too much for you and here." 

Brandon takes out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slides it his way. Landon grabs it carelessly and opens it up.

"What am I looking at?" He turns it upside down. Just colors.

"Leigh misses you." Which is evasive so Brandon doesn't know either.

"She's not going to be a painter, Bran."

"Shut up, Lan," Brandon says but more exasperated than upset. Might be something Landon has said often which makes sense.

"What about sculpting? Is she any good? Not too late to start, there's so many things she can do with clay that it won't matter if it's ugly. As long as she's serious then I won't mind teaching her."

The scribbled colors start to blur into a more concrete picture sort of. He tries to solve this puzzle. The paper is turned in different angles and he thinks it's a dog or cat or possibly a griffin, maybe he'd been too hasty to judge her lack of artistic skills. She certainly had the imagination. 

A victorous noise escapes him. "It's an amusement park, these are animal balloons and that's a ferris wheel. But the shapes..." his brow furrows.

But he looks up because it's too quiet.

Brandon is staring at him and Jeremy's glaring at the table, his fingers squeezing over his utensils. 

"What?"

"We had a similar conversation once about the sculpting," Brandon says, but it sounds like a deflection. He doesn't seem to be upset over anything, but the mood is strange.

Landon simply shrugs, placing the paper down and then frowns again. "What do I do with this? Stick it on the fridge?"

"You're keeping it," Brandon asks though, eyes a little wide.

"I thought I was a good uncle." Heartlessly throwing out his beloved niece's drawing was not something good uncles did.

"You are," Brandon confirms wholeheartedly.

Jeremy's fork scrapes over his plate but he doesn't seem keen to join the conversation. Though he's watching. 

"...Lan," Brandon says through the awkward lull. "Do you remember anything?"

Landon slowly shakes his head. "No, why?"

"You're empathic..."

Landon blinks. "I'm not acting any differently than how I normally do."

Brandon stares hard at him. "When we were children....you used to terrorize Glyn over her paintings, so she felt like she wasn't good enough."

"This is a child's drawing," Landon explains patiently. "Glyn is an inspiring artist with Astrid Clifford King as a parent and me as a brother so I was critiquing her paintings the way any one in our scene would. While you coddle her with validation I am strengthening her up, because she is weak."

Instead of jumping to Glyndon's defense right away, Brandon narrows his eyes at him.

A beat passes as he seems to internally debate with himself then he says carefully, "She had an inferiority complex, Lan."

Landon doesn't understand why.

Well, to an extent he understands how far the chasm is between their talents. Glyndon likes being compared to mum while Landon is his own person so there's that, too.

Eventually, he gives his own measured response, "As a painter, there's a need to be self-centered enough that you believe your creation will change the world be it for one person or the planet, and Glyn needed so much feedback that I provided her with harsh truths in an attempt to spark her arrogance."

Brandon breathes out through his nose, but he doesn't seem mad. "Your way of helping people is reflective of your own ego."

Coming from Eli, then Landon would have jabbed back.

"My ego," he repeats. His hand drops to the table. "You and Glyn never respected me as an eldest! There's an older brother privilege that me and Eli share. Look at Creighton, at least he likes his older brother, and Eli isn't any better than me! I would kill for you and Glyn!"

He waits for Brandon to retreat but his brother slowly reaches out and taps his hand. "You're my other half, Landon, so I like you well enough."

And Landon looks at the contact in awe. But quickly shutters his expression. Blinking away the discomfort in his eyes 

A jostling movement disturbs his trance as Jeremy sits up, his plate moved aside. "I'll head up first, thanks for coming by Bran."

"What's his problem?" Landon mutters when they're alone.

Brandon exhales with a shake of his head. A wry smile on his face.

Afterwards near the end of dinner, Landon is shown photos of Leigh because Brandon is the proud father type there are many of her going through childhood accomplisments, and he doesn't mind seeing Niko much either in the family mementos.

"Send me an invitation to your art exhibit," Landon says when Brandon's ready to return home before 7pm. His brother smiles an assent then they do a bro hug they haven't done in so long, and Landon still feels overly weird about it, but he doesn't have the urge to break his brother's hand for touching him so casually, so it's fine.

There's no magnets to stick the drawing on the fridge but he searches through the kitchen drawers for anything.

A shadow pops up over his shoulder and it's the only warning he has before he's lifted with ease onto the countertop, pushed back up against the cabinets with Jeremy's hands landing on either side of him so he's trapped. 

The manhandling should annoy him, but he's breathless. They're relatively the same height but their phyisques gave away to a slight, very slight size difference, for one Jeremy was broader, shoulders more massive before his torso tapered into a snatched waist while his skin ran warm from all the muscles he had. Landon had a nice going six pack but he's more slender, and all his strength went to his hands and calves from sculpting all his life, then running.

"You weren't supposed to be having such a good time," Jeremy says quietly, brushing his cheek alongside Landon's. 

"What can I say? I missed Brandon," Landon says, moving to brush his lips against that sharp cheekbone, almost wishing it made him bleed.

"And me?"

"You're still here."

"Did you miss me when I left the room?"

"Didn't even notice you were gone," he lies.

Jeremy kisses him, not caring for the lingering flavor of salmon, not at all but before he gets too excited, Landon wraps his fingers around his biceps to create some distance. 

"We have any magnets?" He asks through swollen lips. 

"Throw it away," Jeremy growls, eyes dark.

"You're not a good uncle," Landon says with a huff.

"She's Niko's kid, Lan, so she's a banshee."

"How dare you," Landon says, very offended. "She's Bran's daughter, so she's a princess."

Jeremy rolls his eyes but leans over to open a drawer and takes out a small knife. With one hand he positions the paper on the free wall space next to the kitchen window then stabs it so the knife embeds into the wall over the paper, effectively pinning it.

The house decor now had a picture of a chaotic amusement park with a knife hilt sticking out the wall. 

Landon's eyes wander over to Jeremy. 

"You're a secret softie."

A small grin appears onto Jeremy's face. "I'm an older brother," he says like they're sharing something in common.

Maybe they are if Jeremy's younger sister ever avoided him like the plague.

"Landon."

The admonishment is back later that night but Landon has no sexual intent in his blood when he's straddling Jeremy.

He only wants to explore. 

The man is laid out in only his briefs, muscles and tattoos on display but Landon had been well behaved, keeping his hands to himself.

Sometimes, he woke up with his head over Jeremy's bicep or face smushed in the crook of his neck but since he had been asleep when that happened, it wasn't his fault. Jeremy hadn't minded being close and sleeping on the same bed, but it's the teasing that irritated him. But again, being on his best behavior there wasn't an instance after he'd fucked himself with the gun did he attempt anything more. That led the man to only being mildly frustrated if not more relaxed. 

It's not his fault if Jeremy has morning wood. And it's not his fault that a specimen is laying there beside him waiting to be observed.

Flopping over and turning on the lamp to disturb Jeremy's sleep, so he can stare some more.

The Jeremy now is different than the one during daylight.

Jeremy's hair is longer after a night shower because he doesn't do anything with it after it's dried, so it's silky and loose. The sides are shaved shorter, but he has bangs over his forehead. Strands that he ususally combs back or to the side. His cheekbones could kill somebody and his grey eyes are lethal.

Everything about him screamed killer.

But Landon thinks he looks vulnerable. There's no softness on his face, but his expressions transformed the edges. So he's less killer and more lonely instead. 

His fingertips caress the contours of Jeremy's brutal shadowed cheek, and work its way downwards over the slope of his jawline slowly, wanting to feel the cut on his finger, then continues to journey over his throat to feel his beating pulsepoint. A thumb reverently slides over his Adam's apple until his hand finally rests on his collarbone. His other palm is braced on the man's ribcage as he stares at the tattoos.

Veni, Vidi, Vici.

I came, I saw, I conquered. 

"How old were you when ink touched your skin?"

"15."

The mafia prince who didn't adhere to any rules and did whatever the fuck he wanted. 

"Why?" Landon asks.

"Initation."

Jeremy's voice is quiet and hoarse, brows a little furrowed so he looks slightly pained 

"Intiation, is that when you first killed someone?" He asks curiously, tracing over the cursive script, wiggling back so he can lay on top of him more comfortably. Chin resting upon Jeremy's sternum as he stared up.

"Not really. We don't kill."

"Oh?"

"We hunt."

"But you killed people," Landon says as a matter of fact. 

"We don't think of it that way."

"I see," Landon doesn't.  

A huff. Amusement but also something strained. "It's not openly discussed, Landon, but we know what we are."

"I never killed anyone," Landon shares. 

"Have you thought about it?"

Jeremy's hands are now rubbing at his waist in slow circles. Thumbs slipping under Landon's shirt but only grazing skin before he takes them out and presses down over the hem of the matertial like he's sealing something shut. The rubbing doesn't stop but it grows a little harsher. 

"Yeah," Landon answers quietly, not minding the treatment. Rather he's lured in. "I have violent thoughts over small things but I won't really go through with it. I think about breaking my brother's hand sometimes but I instantly have a reason why I don't have to. I don't want to hurt Brandon, but I can't control the thought that I could. So is contemplating murder...the same as doing it?"

"No," Jeremy says. His fingers are down over the small of Landon's back now, tapping absent-mindedly. "But plotting is. Because you have the motive to justify your reasoning, and the murder weapon picked out."

Landon blinks, lips twitching briefly. "You...you sound a lot like my uncle."

"Don't say that," Jeremy sounds grouchy over the comparsion.

"Uncle Aiden isn't all that bad...you two even have grey eyes."

Different shades and although both intense, Uncle Aiden was a less dangerous person. He was never extremely mad for one. 

"Don't joke about this with me," Jeremy sounds and looks pissed now. And he's rolling them over so Landon is pinned under his weight and crushed in an instant.  

"Wait--- I was only pointing out the obvious--" 

Jeremy stares at him, a flicker of an unreadable emotion passes through his grey eyes. "Is your uncle a good man?"

Landon nods, confused by the sudden tension. There hadn't been any attempt to make it this way, he was merely stating facts from his perspective.

"Well, I'm not, so we're nothing alike," Jeremy says. 

"So you don't care about me?" Landon asks heatedly.

Jeremy kisses him, but Landon shoves him back.

"I know you do that because you're a sore loser, anytime you're outwitted you kiss me." 

"I kiss you because I can, and your mouth is mine. Those are facts." 

"I don't like you," Landon says, turning away. Tries to anyway since Jeremy is on top of him.

"Don't hide."

"I'm not!"

"You're blushing, baby."

"I want to kill you," Landon hisses. "I'm plotting on it and you'll reg--"

He's kissed on the forehead. 

"I care," Jeremy says quietly. "I don't give a fuck if you're related, you shouldn't be smiling when thinking of other men."

"Devilish fiend," Landon says in a wavering tone. His entire face is heated and his lips are wobbling again, and he hates it. 

Landon King is untouchable but he's self-destructing right now.

And for some reason Jeremy Volkov looks sumpremely satisfied. 

"What is love?"

"Self-destruction."

"What is love?"

"Self-destruction."

"What is love?"

"Self-destruction."

"What is love?"

"Self-destruction

"What is love?

"Jeremy."

Two months since Landon's hospital release, and he's still married with only inklings of his memories trickling back.

He surfs more on the web to update himself on event currents, and replies to work emails courteously despite not feeling like the Older Landon it's simple to wear that mask and be cunning towards people that only know him through recognition. 

Physically he's improving from his daily exercises, and appears healthy again, but he's still a shell of his former self. His hair is trimmed, but he decided to have it all layered so the uneven cut was part of a conscious hairstyle. It made his hair look thick, and curlier, and more effortlessly tousled. And apparently more irresistible since Jeremy kisses him more fervently before pulling back. 

He was the sun that people revolved around before, and now he wasn't.

He found he didn't neccesarily care though.

Everything else will return eventually, as long as he was with Jeremy then he was sustaining off enough attention to survive for ions.

The man's intensity made up ten times the amount of any other hangeroner's that admired him. 

And Jeremy Volkov was his husband.

A devil.

Underneath his care, there was a possessiveness.

A brand of heat where he touched Landon, and yet he still held back where it mattered.  

Sharing a bed obviously isn't new.

Staying with someone overnight and till the morning and just resting there with no sexual tension was.

It wasn't that Jeremy didn't have reactions to Landon, he quite literally has his cock rubbing up Landon's arse in the mornings before he hurriedly rushes to the bathroom to handle it.

Not embarrassed but rather moody when he returns.

He stares at Landon laying there, his head on the pillow and eyes soft and hazy and grumbles and aggressively gets ready for the day. Landon inwardly smirks. 

Other than that they rest there.

Chest to chest.

Face to face and it's not awkward.

Jeremy stares and Landon stares.

It's like they're both weirdly obsessed with one another.

Animals, he thinks. But even they functioned without their mates. 

"You're a snake," Jeremy says over breakfast. 

"And you're tempted."

"It's normal." 

"It's been long for you, hasn't it? Are you--"

Landon doesn't know how to ask when his mouth tastes bitter. Swallowing doesn't help. Chewing Jeremy's special scrambled eggs doesn't help either. But Jeremy waits him out expectantly.

"Are you finding pleasure elsewhere?"

Long silence. 

Landon almost explodes again. 

But Jeremy does it first. Quite dramatically, Landon might add. He upturns their table so everything topples over in a resounding crash and Landon stares at his ruined breakfast forlornly. 

"This isn't funny," Jeremy says. 

"Wasn't a joke," Landon says and he looks at the mess and back up at Jeremy. "I'm not cleaning this. And next time a simple no would have sufficed."

"This marriage isn't just sex. I'm not with you because of sex."

"It started that way and continues to be that way," Landon says, which isn't even a bad thing. Sex is great. And it's a connection. His interest tends to wane too easily but it's the only time when he's not bored and he doesn't have to like the person he's with or pretend too hard. Just stuff his cock in a hole and it's over. Sweet talk wasn't his thing, aftercare wasn't his thing but fucking sure was. 

Though he's been without it for quite some time because of Jeremy's sensibilities. 

And not for the right reasons. 

He wants Landon to have feelings when they fuck. Had nothing to do with his memory loss at all. He believed he owned the right to Landon already because of their marriage. 

Four years. 

That's so long. For Landon it seems like a whole century of commitment.

"I'm going for a ride," Jeremy says furiously. Stomping out with the jangling of keys and the front door slamming shut. 

That went over well but Landon knew it would happen eventually. He's someone that needed to ruin something and he did. But when two minutes pass then five and he hears the revving engine leave the garage, he hurries up to the attic. His phone a heavy weight in his pocket. 

Why so secretive? 

Landon doesn't know. Jeremy better not be fucking other people. And he goes digging. Looking through Jeremy's account. Wondering why the fuck he's acting like he's the one cheating when Jeremy's surely meeting someone for his urges. 

The stalking aside, Jeremy was still insatiable. He'd gone to so many of those damn kink clubs. Landon had explored and experimented and thrilled. Jeremy had the same preferences so their libidos had to be similar. 

Jeremy Volkov. 

Not King. 

A rageful growl escapes from his throat as he slams his phone against the wall wishing it'd shatter. But the screen only cracks. So he didn't publicly own Jeremy at all but he's the one with the taint. The Volkov name added to his. 

He lost his dad. And has no real social life. No friends. Any real ones that cared. Just family. But they all had their own business to worry about. Essentially he was trapped. No one to use as a pawn, no one to fawn over him. 

And a husband that wasn't entirely his. 

Jeremy was hiding secrets from him. And Landon's good at uncovering after digging and he plans to do just that. But after he calms down first. 

Five minutes later, he decides he can just leave. He doesn't need to stay.

Jeremy certainly hadn't.

He checks his phone again and requests an Uber. 

Promptly cancels it because he remembers he's living in a fortress.

Or a prision. 

Frutrated tears well in his eyes because he's the eldest of his family, the most independant one.

He can be gone for weeks and no one would worry.

Not about his well-being anyway but rather what he was up to.

Why did his parents disown him? 

Instead of contacting them, he opens up his uncle's text and considers it.

Then responds.

In a minute his uncle is calling him.

There's no mushiness which he appreciates, instead they make plans, after assuring his uncle he's fine he hangs up and throws his phone at the wall.

Picks up a random tool, and stalks out of the manor.

The guards are laidback with the grounds that they cover, possibly because of the security cameras.

But that left them bored and as social creatures they often found themselves talking to one another during their shifts.

Landon walks up to the unmanned gate and places his eyeball at the retina scan.

As it loads for recognition, he's discovered instantly as a guard walks out of the booth enclosure from the other side of the gate.

Not Ilya which is perfect.

That senior guard was infuriatingly too good at his job.

"Mr. King?" The young man says. "Do you have any errands for us to run?"

Eager to leave his boring post, and ignorant about Landon's memory loss.

He smiles at the man, swings his sculpting tool lightly. "I'm all out of clay. Do you mind lending me the keys to your car so I can head over to the art store?"

The young man's eyes sharpen. "I can take you."

"I want to drive so you'll be in the passeneger seat."

The guard stares with his black eyes, jaw working out a tensed muscle. "I will call Ilya."

"And bother him over an insignficant car ride?" Landon says in disapproval. "He works so hard managing everything on his own, no wonder he doesn't trust the rookies to make their own decisions." He adds a condescending laugh as he stares piteously at the man.

"I'm not a rookie," the guard says self-importantly, puffing up. "I am in charge today, so I'll watch out for you, Mr. King."

The guard doesn't distrust Landon, but Landon also doesn't care to be monitored, so he swings the wooden tool over his head when he's close and the man drops to the ground with a groan. 

Landon stares, in awe of himself. 

That was anticlimactic as fuck. And for a second wonders if he should be feeling anything about the irony of giving someone a head injury when it landed him in a coma.

Then he shrugs. 

He crouches down and searches for the keys from the man's vest and happily takes them. After pressing the unlock button, he hears the SUV respond to it from a mere distance, and rushes over to slide into the driver's seat.

Hands over the wheel, he laughs in excitement. At the acccomplisment and daring behavior.

Adjusting the car to his preferences before he drives himself to the airport. 

Cornflower blue.

Sunlight.

Unknowingly the coldness inside of him was thawing to human emotion.

Mia.

Mia Sokolov.

My muse.

Meet me at my art studio.

Meet me---

Landon's eyes open blearily.

He stares out the plane window.

Blue.

White clouds.

No sunlight.

The sun is setting to a daybreak when the private plane lands in London on a raining Monday.

The man waiting for him in the airport lobby is noticeably older than he last remembered. But he doesn't let that get to him, the world has moved on from him and he intends to yank it back so he's at the center of the universe again. 

There's some more grey strands in Uncle Aiden's hair but it doesn't detract from his unyielding presence when he walks up to meet Landon.  Towering over him with his straight posture, but he stares at Landon like he's reminiscing.

"You're absolutely sure you want to take on Eli?"

"You wanted a challenge for your son, well I'm here and ready to go."

"Your husband," he doesn't quite ask more like pointedly states. Noticing that Landon's a newly independent man with no leash or collar.  

"I don't need his permission," Landon says with an edge. "I'm Landon fucking King."

Uncle Aiden stares. 

"You texted me an SOS," Landon says. Unnerved by the silence. "Not the other way around so stop looking at me like I'm some tragedy in the making."

"Our family has suffered so much in the name of love,"  Uncle Aiden says. "Eli and Ava didn't have it easy and you look--"

"I think you should put aside your good feelings for me because we're about to become enemies, Uncle. You can act like you care about us equally but your sons come first. Even Eli. I'm here to make his life hell after he's achieved his happy ending because I'm a ruiner. And you're going to play your role." Landon doesn't care if he's hated. Being the villain was easier, it didn't require holding back at all or suppressing his tendencies. 

He smirks. 

Aiden King contemplates his grandiose speech and nods. "As you wish." 

Control. 

Not a silver. 

But all of it. 

Back in Landon's grasp as he walks alongside his uncle as an equal.

King Enterprises welcomes him as the prophesied Chosen One.  

They stare and whisper and don't say his name outloud but behind closed doors. 

Levi King's eldest son. 

The one that was in a coma. 

Not a King but King-Volkov. 

Landon has on aviators indoors and a royal blue coat that sweeps behind him as his hands rest deep in the pockets of his black trousers. Head held high with his chin tiled upwards so he can peer over his sunglasses rather than through them.

There are blushing faces. Wide eyes and people trying to create situations to be in his presence. He effortlessly smiles, but on the edge of a smirk so he's dangerously charming. Eli is their King. 

And he's invading the castle to usurp him. 

Eli's a reptilian.

Landon has nothing to make out of him that's changed. 

After a cordial, pleasant exchange, he bites. 

"What." Eli says coldly.

Landon spins around on the chair, legs out and then crosses them when he faces Eli again, a smile on his face. "I want to seize control of the company, dear cousin. It's time your arse retires before you get a stroke. I see a strand of grey in your hair and that's a sign of mortality." 

"You look frail," Eli counters, sitting back in his leather seat. Needing to take up more room as he spreads his leg. Of course he manspreads. So does Landon but he's elegant about it. And hot. Not obnoxious. "Looks like you're suffering more than I am." 

"My mind is still greater than yours," Landon says as he settles his elbows over the mahogany desk. "I'll win over the board in an instant."

Eli doesn't refute. Because it's a fact. "Your father would sooner toss your arse out than give you a position in this company." 

Odd. Because Uncle Aiden had given Landon the reigns to terrorizing his own son since he was old enough to challenge him. But he doesn't say that. The urge to ruin that relationship--- not out of envy no, but to even out the playing field exists as a tangible idea with an endgame, and he knows he can absolutely destroy Uncle Aiden and Eli if he wanted to.

He takes out a lighter and a cigarette from inside his inner coat pocket. His hands go to work through the familiar motions and he smokes right there in Eli's office disrespectfully. 

"How's Ava?" He asks like he could care less. Though he's dying to know. Wanting to see if it's all worth it. The pining and the marriage. And apparently the pregnancy. 

Eli doesn't answer. His eyes have tracked all of Landon's movements with a deadly stillness. Now he looks like he will personally shove Landon out the window of the long storey building. Instead he sits up and touches a button on the desk phone. The intercom. 

"Call security," he tells the receptionist. Landon cackles through smoke and gets up. Putting out his cigarette and tossing it in the trash since there's no ashtray. 

"You lost this round," he says smugly. Needing to remove your opponent was a sign of weakness. 

Security doesn't arrive because Landon isn't here to be escorted out. He leaves on his own terms. But he's able to charm the lady at the front desk, telling her how awful and horrible Eli King is. 

"I just woke up from a coma," he tells her piteously and her eyes are so sympathetic.

"We thought Mr. King would be a warmer person after falling in love," the lady says which is a laughable statement but Landon just nods along. 

With a farewell, he turns to leave and fistbumps the security guard on the way out. "Thanks for your civic duty," he says. 

Eli King really can't do people as well as he can and he's the psychopath. At least the bastard can understand love though. 

The condo that Landon lives in feels like a hotel since he doesn't use up all the space. His clothes are hanging in the closet and his toiletries are in the bathroom but he spends most of his time in bed scrolling through his database of connections and trying to find strands of information from his own life. There's a mystery that needed solving so he went to work with it, ignoring the coldness over his body and restlessness of being here. 

The breakfast he ordered was standard but tastes bland. His tea is the only respite in the mornings and in the lieu between late morning and noon, he's at King Enterprises trying to drive Eli to the brink of insanity. 

But a week passes and Landon's about to explode. The silence is persistent. The absence and lack of monitoring causes him to grind his teeth. There's no traces of Jeremy. His so loving husband hasn't tried to locate or contact him. The condo hasn't been broken into while he was away so the obsession might not have been that deep and that's enough to send him spiraling for a day. The next day he acts as if his meltdown never happened though he had to purchase new dining chairs for his condo because they've been wrecked in a smash. 

Walking through the glass doors of the company, Landon's about to enter the elevator and use his cousin as an outlet for all this emotion he can't seem to release when he nearly bumps into someone. It's a common "accident" but he stops short at the blond platinum hair. 

Ribbons. 

Blue. 

Mia looks up at him with an apologetic smile then it freezes on her face, straining at the edges. "Landon?" She speaks.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he says, amusement filtering out with ease. What is it about her? 

"Well, last I heard you were...it's good to see that you're up and about," she seems genuine at least. He remembered she hated his guts. "Not being evil again, are you?"

She knows him so well. He can only smile. Her eye twitches. "Please don't do that. You're creepy."

"My smiles are charming, little muse."

She freezes. And he startles. 

"Hey, Landon," she says softly. Hands anxiously twisting together. "Do you want to grab coffee later? I really want to talk to you."

He nods. And she smiles. 

Sunlight. 

In a lighter mood, Landon enters the elevator, watching Mia leave the building in a hurry. 

Maybe he'll lay off Eli for a bit. 

Landon wants privacy, but also to control the events without any disruptions, so he orders Mia's favorite latte and carries it while he waits for her at the front of his condo building.

Constantly checking his watch with every minute that passes by.

At the fifteen minute mark he's still standing and waiting and only a little frustrated but tolerant enough to remain. 

Mia arrives with a gust of breath, cheeks pink and hair flying in all directions. 

"I was trying to make it on time," she explains.

Landon shakes his head, smirking. 

"You're obsessed with me."

"Shut up," she says but takes the melting latte from him with a pleasantly cute smile. The kind she uses on everyone to get her way. And she sips with a hum like it's still delicious. "Thanks, Landon, you're not so evil after all."

"You're the satanist here," he says as he unlocks his door with a pass code and he invites her in with a flourish. There's no awkwardness when they're alone and she surveys the surroundings curiously because she always had a keen eye for interior designs. 

"I was wondering if you ever felt like you were trapped in the past," Mia says, walking over to the island and setting her latte on a coaster. Wiping her hands on the skirts of her yellow dress. 

Landon watches her. It's an assessment of an artist than anything. He can't deny that she's been his muse. But he hadn't ruined her to absolution at all. 

"I'm literally a time traveler," he tells her. "A first year art prodigy, but I'm retired."

There's no surprise so Mia suspected. Eli and Uncle Aiden still haven't caught on to his partial amnesia yet.

Not that he's keen on telling anyone.

Mia stares up at him, something flickering in her gaze as she swallows. "Have you sculpted anything recently?"

At first Landon doesn't process what she said despite having paid attention. It seemed to be an alien language coming from her mouth but then he backs away sharply, hand slapping over his forehead. 

"Are you hurt?" Worry. But not crowding him so he can have some space. 

"I'm fine," he snaps and then shakes his head through the faint throbbing pain. "Why are there so many pictures of us together? Are you a reference?"

"..."

"You can talk now, so speak!" 

Instead of being afraid of his anger, she stares up at him defiantly with her head held high. "We used to see each other." 

"Okay," he says flatly. "How long did that last?" 

Here's an irrefutable fact, he doesn't date. He doesn't recall any instance in which he had been compelled to because he's so sure he would grow bored immediately. 

Mia gulps. Always looked terrified of him one second but beating him up the next. "It was fleeting but intense. We learned things from each other and grew as people. And as soon as I left you were caught up in Jeremy."

"Oh."

He knew Jeremy for so long it seemed or at least of him, but he was a rebound. That seems so...

"Did Jeremy have anyone?" He asks with a smile, gesturing for her to go on as he walked around to join her, though he sat on top of a stool to look down on her even while sitting. 

Mia freezes. Her eyes wide. A statue he wouldn't mind sculpting. Is that why he kept those pictures on his phone? But why around the wedding anniversary? The pictures had a different date, not something from a shared past with a fling, but rather this year before his coma.

His head doesn't hurt when he ponders deeply over this, instead he stares at her, waiting for her answer. 

Jeremy takes the priority. He's more eager to know more about his husband. The other mystery can be solved on it's own time as it comes back to him. 

"What are you going to do with that information?" She asks cautiously. 

"I'm just curious."

"You're planning murder like an evil snake. Listen. You had your share of lovers so Jeremy can be free to---"

It's not silent.

It's a deafening ring.

Landon grabs something. He doesn't know what. But it smashes. Shattering into pieces. Later he learns it was the wine bottle he left out on the counter after drinking.

Mia doesn't flinch. Instead she looks resigned. 

"Jeremy hasn't dated anyone but I used to think he and Cecily had something."

An angel and a devil. 

How romantic. 

"Cecily Knight?" Landon says like he hadn't broken anything. Voice still pleasant and charming. 

"Don't hurt her, you've done enough," Mia warns, hands on her eyes and chin tipped up in defiance. 

"I would never," he lies, knowing he already had in some way but he likes watching how expressive Mia is. Her fear and her frustration. And that defiance. 

"She's too good for either of you," she says darkly. 

"Oh, what's this? A crush," Landon perks up.  

Mia clicks her tongue. And flips him off. 

A genuine laugh escapes him. But he warns her not to do that again or else he'll break her fingers. 

His phone rings throughout the night.

Landon stares at it. 

Ring. Buzz. Ring. 

He doesn't hurry to answer it. Jeremy had waited him out again so he'll ignore him for that. 

It goes crazy. 

All night. 

Obsessively. 

The sun rises and Landon hasn't slept a single wink. 

Another week passes. 

Two weeks of his own freedom. 

No closer to discovering anything 

Not that he tried. Leaving that on the back burner. 

Why? He doesn't know. But he continues on as if everything is by his design. The Landon King that walks into the building is conniving and still on everyone's radar. The whispers have trailed more harshly as they suspect his intentions out in the open. People flock to him as usual and some rats have tried to give him secrets. 

Things he already knew but was a sign that they were willing to betray Eli to join his coup. 

Funny. 

"Landon," Eli says. "We need to talk."

"Call the press because Eli King is having the Break Up speech with his own cousin," Landon says guilelessly. Eli doesn't budge. Serious. Astute. His grey eyes are like Uncle Aiden's but he's not as patient as his father when it concerns Landon. Looking out for Landon was part of being the eldest, a duty but a right to lord his superiority over him. But Landon isn't like Brandon or Glyndon. 

He's also an eldest.

"You need help," Eli says. And he sounds--- 

Stern. Paternal.

Everyone has matured and developed an instinct that Landon will never have, but they're using it on him.

This tone chafes, he doesn't like it.

"Using the company as your playground isn't going to give you back your life," Eli says. Like Landon's a fuckup in need of redemption. "Your issues are not a reason to disrupt what we're building here."

"Building? You mean that cushion you're sitting on only managing what's leftover of your father's legacy," Landon says, because silence.

Silence.

It's everywhere.

His mind is blank and his words are grasped desperately from preformed ideas.

Words that he had meant to cut Eli with if he ever hurt him--- no if he wanted to undermine him. 

Eli straightens up, grey eyes made of steel. "Your own father can't really look at you right now, Landon. Uncle Levi talks to other people to get to know tidbits about your life. Is that what you want to hear? Because it's the God honest truth, and not a child's temper tantrum." 

"What do you know about fatherhood?" Landon asks. "I mean really, do you think you have the best childhood to bring children into this world and be there for them?"

"This," Eli says, gesturing at him. "Is the most singular desperate thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth and I've known you at your most juvenile."

And he presses the intercom button and his voice is all god of war. "Come get him." 

The silence is an agreement. 

Landon taps his foot on the ground and spins around looking for anything to grasp onto. To break. To perform. To ruin. Maybe he'll lunge at Eli and finally get a fist fight that's been a long time coming-- 

The door slams open. He presumes the security guard is here to drag him out and he already has a persuasive line, but it's not. 

His heart does a strange thing when Wrath storms through the door, fury in his eyes and bristling in his suit, looking halfway from hell with coal eyes and boiling heat from his anger leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. 

"Treat him like this again, and I'll kill you."

Eli scoffs, straightening up. "Manage him better." He points at Jeremy with a stern finger, "And for fuck's sake don't coddle him, it makes everything worse. Drag him through hell if you have to." He waves them out, already back to business.

And Landon's mouth is dry. 

The entire place feels like hell. The scorching sensation of Jeremy's gaze is intense and he's the danger that he needs to run from but in an instant that seems to change. 

No longer wrath, but worse.

A pining husband faces him.

"I'm sorry, Landon," Jeremy says, uncaring for the witness to his utter weakness as he kneels between Landon's legs, hands over his knees. Looking up through his lashes imploringly. "I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I should have just said so. I hurt you, but I'm never letting you go, because I'm evil and the only good thing I've done is give you space."

His hands don't hold onto Landon's but rather he captures them, already making the decision for him, whether he agrees or not, Jeremy's taking him home. The man's face is one of surrender but his touch is a branded touch of ownership, claiming Landon as his. 

I can't leave him, Landon thinks with clarity, heart aching, allowing the captivity. 

No one really puts up with Landon, but the devil will. 

A devil who's a fallen angel.

His heart twinges.

Eyes itching. 

A hitch of breath. 

He cries.

And crashes into Jeremy. Arms tighten around him in a breathlessly possessive hug. 

Self-destruct...

In...

Landon had woken up after one of their most intense primal play fucks with a ring on his finger.

Obsidian and finely made, looking like a piece of gunmetal. And a gem from hell.

Blinking the daze out of his eyes, he had stared in wonderment.

His gaze flickering towards the only movement in the room. Jeremy not asking for permission and not uttering his intentions.

Not a proposal, but a captivity. 

The solid lines of Jeremy's tanned back and the inks rippling over his muscles as he busied himself around the cottage had Landon staring like an idiot, trying to understand what was happening. 

"No one else will ever understand this," Jeremy explains later on over a late breakfast, gesturing between them carelessly, smoking and eyes looking at everything but Landon. "You and I can't fuck other people without conciously holding ourselves back from the raw darkness we actually crave, so let's do the marriage thing."

That doesn't make sense. But Landon doesn't understand much of what is considered normal, only the concept he is meant to adapt to. People get married for many reasons and if this is what has Jeremy wanting to be tied to him forever then so be it.

Not that Landon has any feelings. 

Only lust. 

Jeremy doesn't seem to want anything else anyway. But marriage is a commitment. 

"No one else," Landon says coldly. "You're Bratva so you better not even think about finding a mistress."

"I should be worrying about you," Jeremy says just a coldly but deadly, leaning across the table to snatch his chin up in a firm grip. "If I find out you're using people as your art inspiration again by breaking them or ruining them, I'll kill you."

It's Mia's fault, Landon thinks, hardly wanting to take the blame for anything.

She had broken his heart when it started to become a real thing. But the world went back to being muted when she left.

Four Years Ago

"You've been quiet."

Landon doesn't startle.

This is his art studio so even in the dark he's aware of everything and the man's presence was a disruption as shadows shifted around him and his breathing isn't completely silent.

Jeremy Volkov is leaning against his sculpture carelessly with all his body weight, and the silver of his eyes are too dull to provide any light source but they're piercing, cutting through the dark. So Landon feels his gaze trained on him as he enters further, not to be cowed in his own sanctum.

There is a need to eliminate the offensive abberation from his intimate space but he has been trying these days to tone down on his impulses.

Lessons with Brandon were slow going but startling effective, barely but he acknowledged more of how his actions had a cause and effect with people's emotions. If he wanted anything genuine then he had to bother with trying to care about a person intuitively. 

Mia is the only reason why he's trying so hard. And he doesn't particularly care for Jeremy Volkov, if he had it his way the man would be six feet under already, well now he wants it more than anything because he's here.

In the dark.

Disturbing Landon's attempt at salvation. 

He hadn't bothered with the Heathens, though he had "crossed" a line so Mia was unwilling to give him a real chance despite the fact it had been the reason she was allowed to pull any pranks on him. Which earned her the privilege of his attention.

So in a way he had set all of this in motion so their fates would align and bring them closer. She had to know that the past is nothing compared to their blossoming connection. Her not so innocent brute of a brother isn't even dead, so she should forgive him already. Landon hadn't gotten out unscathed for any of his actions either so he was punished enough, though he had hardly cared for the bruises on his body. No judgement touched him when he was superior to them all.

The urge to remove Jeremy is a violent thought he's able to detach from because he looks over at his sculpture instead. 

"Trepassing," Landon says boredly. "Quite a statement for a wannabe Michael Corleone."

"I don't care for The Godfather," Jeremy says.

Then, he pushes the sculpture back.

It careens to the ground with the delicacy of a china piece, and fractures into several big chunks that can be reassembled like a jigsaw puzzle. 

But Landon stares with his blood roaring in his ears and yet he bites his tongue, tasting iron. Shaking himself out of the gripping anger. It's there but he won't react to this childish attempt at sparking a fight.

It's a nauseating pit in his stomach to back down from showing this low level thug his place. He shrugs instead and takes out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, a smoke to calm him down. It's the only light in this place as the spark appears like a firefly. 

Sucking the end into his mouth and inhaling it does little wonders, but the anger shudders out with his composure steadily stitched back together.

"You aren't mad about this," Jeremy notes. A weighted stare that Landon doesn't care to decipher.

Being Mia's friend--- though she had far too many-- is the reason Landon doesn't charge at him. This isn't something he can pretend to be remorseful about if it caused her to be upset.

Nikolai was still a thorn he hadn't picked out yet.

"I would be more provoked if you were even significant enough to grate on my nerves." 

Jeremy doesn't say anything, but his silence is always a vast coldness before it implodes like a star, so it's a blast of incinernating heat.

Yet not this time.

He stalks up to Landon, stares, then rips the smoke from his mouth, and sticks it between his own lips.

Grey eyes sparked as much as the lit ashes.

Landon stares, frozen by a completely unnatural event but Jeremy's alive, so he moves around.

Smoking while walking around the art studio, yet instead of his senses being calmed by nicotine he seems to have a burst of violence since in a quick motion he's kicking up a tool, and catching it effortessly in the air without reaching over for it.

The same as a football but it's a chisel and within a moment of grasping it, he handles it like a warhammer, and strikes down.

Smashing the sculpture with a fury of someone with bad blood to settle. 

Landon watches as his first beloved piece in ages is destroyed.

But he can't move.

The sheer violence and anger contained in Jeremy is precise, not uncontrollable or mindless, and he doesn't want it directed at himself.

But each crack is a splinter in his heart.

The pieces can be remolded, though it would look like broken shards glued together.

Amateurish.

So his pride won't allow it.

"Well, another one for the broken collection," Landon says but his voice is pitched oddly. 

Distant and muffled.

Hands cold, as cold as he had once been. 

Jeremy is quiet.

The chisel is dropped to the ground and he kicks out at leftover shards before storming out, taking the only source of light with him.

But Landon is glad for it.

With shaky legs and an exhale he sits down, elbows on his knees and wonders if empathy is worth it.

It's not a rejection.

Mia would have to directly tell him for that to be the case, but she never shows up.

He texts her.

She reads.

As usual.

But they were past this silent treatment. 

He waits anyway because she eventually turns up.

Yet her absence continues.

Angered, because it has to be anger and nothing pathetic, he gets up from the staircase and walks out of the haunted house.

Her apartment is the place he checks first. Climbing to her window. 

Empty.

And so he drives over to the Heathens Mansion.

He doesn't give a fuck about his brother and sister sitting there in enemy terrority though they're shocked to see him. Or horrified but he doesn't give them more than a cursory glance.

"Where's Mia?" He asks Nikolai coldly. Though he already knows. Around but hiding from him. This isn't how their game is played. 

Bristling immediately, Nikolai demands, "What do you want with her?" 

Brandon approaches, neither pay him attention. 

"I want to fuck her," Landon says with a short mocking laugh. And he's punched the next second which he expected, because everything was so predictable.

But Mia's avoiding him intentionally, trying to undo whatever they shared, and he needs it to hurt outside, not in.

Nikolai is pulled back by Brandon. "STOP!"

"Did you hear--"

"My brother likes her," Brandon clarifies unneccesarily, "He's not good at expressing it but he's serious--"

"I don't care!" Nikolai shouts but he pauses, trying to reign in his temper. Body shuddering.

Which is the last thing Landon wants.

So he goads, "After I'm through with her, I'll have a go at the easy one."

"LAN!" 

He's punched, and he laughs.

Nikolai's anger is that of a murderous frenzy yet he laughs in the face of it as his body is beaten and his voice becomes a croak, blood split from his mouth and ears pulsating with a drum beat.

"STOP!" Brandon's crying in the back as far away as pluto.

And the weight on Landon is gone in an instant.

"Take him, and go!"

Landon's unsteady on his feet when he's lifted and dragged out and then he's dropped with a heavy sigh.

He hears keys, a car door being unlocked and he's carried again to be shoved into the backseat. Blue eyes stare at him unemotionally but then Killian glances over behind him.

There's commotion, chaos and Landon laughs weakly, because this is how it's supposed to be.

"Fuck," Killian says.

"Is he--"

Glyndon.

Landon laughs, covering his face. Because his expression feels so terrifying he feels like Eros showing his true form. 

After that Killian gets in the driver's seat while his sister scoots in the back with him.

"What is wrong with you?" Glyndon sounds scared but angry. "Everything has been too quiet recently. I should have known but now Bran's dealing with the fallout of your actions."

A sputtering laugh.

A laugh that turns into a croak.

A hard exhale.

All over again, he laughs.

The car ride is tensed, but it goes smoothly then moments later the door opens.

But he sits there before he hears more chaos.

"Who the fuck did this?!"

It's Eli.

No one says anything for a second.

"He did this to himself," Glyndon says when it's clear he expects an answer. "You know how he is." 

Eli knows it's true so he only releases a frustrated breath but he handles Landon like he needs safety gloves.

"I have....a kit," Killian offers.

Not meekly but like he's unsure of the correct course of action. If he even wants to help Landon at all since he's done enough.

"Just go," is all Eli says impatiently.

And Landon laughs.

Because it's funny that Eli is acting like he has any older brother privilege here.

This isn't any worse than what Creighton's done to him for using him. But there is a golden rule in their family that no one else is allowed to hurt them.

"I'm calling your father," Eli whispers when Landon can't stop laughing. But he's taken inside, placed on his bed and given proper treatment for his wounds.

Others come by, not daring to enter but curiously peeking in.

Eli chases them all away throughout however long it takes for him to tend to Landon carefully. But Landon refuses any pills, knocking them aside so it scatters to the carpeted floor. Which earns an irritated huff.

However the one constantly returning must be Remi because he's stubborn, and no one else but Ava defies Eli like this.

And Eli wouldn't have been so harsh with her.

Then someone actually ignores him and comes inside the room.

"Don't worry about him, Cecy," Eli says curtly.

Surprisingly she ignores him. 

"Who did this?" She asks fiercely like a protective mama bear.

Eli sighs, exasperated. "Who in the world but him?"

And he's right because Landon is untouchable.

"You're not-- oh, Lan," she seems to find him as pitiful as those animals at the shelters she's volunteering for. A hand tentatively reaching out to caress his broken skin, thumb sliding over a bruise.

And he needs to fix this.

The tenderness.

The way she's staring at him with her green eyes.

"I was going to fuck you," he slurs. "But your dad would have chased me with a shotgun. Cus I wouldn't commit. Just one pump and done."

The silence afterwards is heavy and Cecily looks hurt but also furious, or one over the other, he's not sure. But she stalks out with her hand scrubbing at her eyes.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Eli asks quietly.

"You don't even like her," Landon says. 

"I'm not needlessly cruel and pushing away the only people who care about me."

They stare at one another then a sniffle breaks the contest.

"It's not even allergy season," Landon complains.

"It's probably dusty in here," Eli says. "Drink some tea and go to sleep."

"You're not my older brother so I don't have to listen to you." 

Eli ignores that.

And Landon drinks tea.

The hot liquid burns his cracked lips, but calms his mind.

Which angers him because clarity is the last thing he wanted and now he has to deal with the onslaught of events and emotions that led him to his actions.

He throws the tumbler of tea into the wall and rolls over laughing into his pillow with it becoming soaked.

The aching of his wounds are phantom to the pain of his beating organ.

Levi King arrives the next day because Eli is always serious about his threats.

He's angry.

No one wants to be in the mansion when he's here.

Glyndon and Brandon can't provide any answers as they hover about, not just because of their split loyalties but it was quite difficult to explain any of Landon's actions. 

"Why aren't you in the hospital?" A harsh demand.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Landon smirks but it hurts so he quickly drops it. His bones weren't even broken.

"Now name the fellow I'm putting behind bars."

"Dad," Brandon says. "We can handle it amongst ourselves."

"This is you guys handling it," Levi gestures at Landon's crumpled body on the bed.

Glyndon stares.

Brandon's lips press tightly, trying to control whatever emotion is about to overcome him, but his eyes look so conflicted.

He cares for Landon but he dislikes him so much at that moment. Because Landon is never purely innocent but comes out the victim where his parents are concerned.

Glyndon seems to reach her last straw because she deviates from their usual script. "If only you know half the things he's done, Dad. The last person you should ever feel sorry for is him. He's always ruining other people's lives. This is the consequence of his own doing."

She sounds more mature and wiser. There's a surge of pride in Landon for himself and for her, because he's the reason why she has this confidence and character development. He brings out this backbone. No one else.

But those are entirely the wrong words to say to their dad. Landon knows because he had to learn the proper way to sneak and lie for years, amending his slip ups and mistakes. 

Levi King loves his children and he would do anything to protect all of them, even from each other. That's why Landon developed this facade. He couldn't be at constant war with his father even though Uncle Aiden explained it so patiently with examples he still couldn't fully understand, so he chose to deceive instead of learning empathy. He had tried and failed more than enough times that the failure wounded his pride.

"This defense you have for the person who did this to your brother is clearly someone you deem more important," their father is intuitive and calm. "I now have suspects to report, and I'll start with Carson."

"Dad!" 

Landon laughs.

But for some reason none of them get mad about it. Brandon looks struck. Glyndon glares but her mouth is downturned.

"I want to speak to Landon privately," Levi says, a dismissal.

Hestitantly Brandon walks towards the door while Glyndon storms out, probably to warn the Heathens. Once they're completely alone, Levi sits down on the mattress and he doesn't intiate contact, instead he stares.

"Who are you punishing?"

It's a soft but firm coax.

Landon doesn't know why this tone works on him. There's nothing special about it. Maybe because it's being used on him when normally his younger siblings were the receptient.

"No one," he says. 

"Give me a name and I'll do it for you."

"I started empathy lessons," he says instead. "I think you guys all need to be punished for lying to me. What's so great about it?"

"Someone hurt you," Levi says. 

"And it's your fault."

"So do you want to punish me?"

Landon shakes his head, looks away. "My colors are gone," he whispers. 

"Do you want your mum?" Because Astrid was better at this and Landon was her baby boy but he shakes his head again.

"I want to self-destruct," he says. "And I'll take everyone out with me."

"Bran and Glyn aren't the ones who hurt you, so spare them," Levi isn't correcting his behavior but managing it in the only way he knows how. A double-edged sword.

"The people they care about will be caught up in it," he confesses.

"Is it worth losing your siblings over?"

"They will learn to fall in line soon enough if they know what's good for them," he says coldly.

"We talked about this."

Now he's stern.

"What you want is an idealistic family but you have a pyschopath for an heir," Landon says. "You can play pretend but your greatest shame is me because I'm the result of your failures."

"I feel no shame when I look at you, Lan," Levi says not letting the silence linger for even a second, so certain. "I just wonder sometimes if I'm the right parent for you, but I'll never give you up, I'll just keep trying."

Then he pulls Landon in for a hug, patting his shoulder and rubbing his head as he shakes.

It's not better at all, but Landon has been given a readjustment of his priorities.

The art studio is lit on fire.

A scorched mark is left with a foundation of the haunted house.

Sirens had joined the crackling of flames as he stood from miles against his car and watched.

And firefighters had tried to save whatever needed saving, so they managed to maintain the fire before it could spread.

All of Landon's sculptures are ash and grime but he didn't need them. Only his school projects will be the focus of his creativity.

No colors, but ashes were a splendid beginning.

Going back to the swing of things required public statements.

Not that Landon had retreated but he had been quiet, not tamed but focused one person over his own glory.

Glory is all Landon needed to ascend again.

On a platform Landon bounces on the balls of his feet for the warmup and jabs his fists into the air while smirking over at his opponent.

He knows what's going through the man's head. The underestimation works in Landon's favor. He's not stacked with muscles but he's no weakling either.

His mind runs faster than their animal instincts. He wins by prodding at their soft spots so they lose all their senses and become wild prey.

It's how he beats anyone in the fighting cage despite being physically outclassed.

Remi announces the matchup to the crowd of degenerates and they practically orgasm as they shout and cheer.

Rolling his eyes, he shrugs off his hoodie and tosses it to Creighton. His cousin huffs but Landon likes to think they've grown closer after spending their nights prowling around for fights. He winks at Anni, who frowns at him. Not worried about him in the slightest but still in the process of figuring him out.

He was a foe to his friends and a foe to his foes.

When his opponent comes further out of his corner of shadows, Landon doesn't visibly falter but his brain stalls. Lags when it's usually quick to make deductions.

Jeremy has fading yellow bruises on his torso and the fact that they're glaringly obvious on his flawed, imperfected body says a lot. But Jeremy looks like hell incarnate himself, eyes on fire and fists smoking with an urge to smite whoever is standing in his way. The greys of his eyes are pitched black and demonic.

"L-lan..."

Landon hates that Remi is suddenly anxious as if he thinks this is a closed deal. He scoffs.

"Fuck off," he mutters then exhales.

Jeremy isn't some invincible war machine. He's already been marred by other people though they're wounds made by weapons.

Still, Landon's already pumped up.

Jeremy doesn't wait for any bell. He charges in and on instinct Landon ducks and feels the heat of the man's body closing in, so he sidesteps and almost trips. But manages to find his balance at the last second but at the risk of rolling his ankle. Well, at least it isn't sprained.

But Jeremy is relentless, his fists don't stop and it's like they're homing missiles set on obilerating Landon so all he can do is dodge and block. And fuck does it hurt when knuckles collide against his forearms.

A hiss of a breath and he tries to counterattack instead of being backed into the fence.

The chants have slowed down, and he's not sure if everyone's growing quiet or if his senses are losing focus because he's actually panicking. A jab from his end hardly grazes Jeremy, and the impact wouldn't do anything. He's as hard as a diamond.

A killer.

His instincts scream at him. What a fool! Run!

But he's trapped, so he covers himself protectively while making frantic jabs back in hopes of landing enough punches to at least cause Jeremy to fall back.

He doesn't.

He has Landon up against the fence with a punch moving so fast Landon's eyes close, preparing to be knocked out.

Knuckles press harshly under his jaw instead, digging in. "Forfeit," Jeremy says into his ear. 

Landon swallows the lump in his throat. But his breathing becomes heavy after that.

"I'll break your delicate wrists," Jeremy's voice is calm. His entire energy isn't. Rage pours off him and Landon knows he means to follow through with his promise.

A while back, Landon would have cared, still this sets him in a mindless frenzy to attack because his self-preservation has never been a thing he agreed with, his impulsivity beats out the logic in those instances. So he punches Jeremy as hard as he can in the face, not caring if his wrist ends up shattering from the force. 

Jeremy stumbles slightly back with a grunt. Head turned to the side.

Landon breathes through his nose harshly. Not bad. But that took so much effort.

"Forfeit," he mocks back anyway with a smirk.

Grey eyes dart over to him, deeply detached.

"This won't feel good," Jeremy says tonelessly. Then he turns to Remi and throws in the towel, walking off while everyone is trying to catch onto what just happened.

The faded spotlight over Landon causes him to seethe, knowing the other Heathens are watching and that one of their leaders deemed him an unacceptable challenge.

It's gutting and offensive. On his way to the locker room he kicks over a trashbin, after slamming the door shut, he's over by the sink and his hands move to turn on the faucet of cold water instead of punching the mirror.

With trembling hands, he splashes his face.

Only then does he look up.

He looks tragically too beautiful for this world.  

His fist doesn't break the mirror when it moves in a blur instead it comes up to brush against the phantom of Jeremy Volkov's knuckles under his jaw. 

Violent but padded softly as possible in mercy, or a self-surrender.

Had it not been Jeremy's weakness when he saw a smaller animal that was in need of a firm hand to know it's place instead of a prey that could have been killed on the spot?

He scoffs.

Even later that night there's a discovey that causes Landon's brain to lag again as he's smoking outside to take in the fresh chilling air. 

Jeremy Volkov climbing out of Cecily's window and scaling down with the expertise of someone who's done it many times before.

Landon huffs, amused by the absurdity in this turn of affairs.

Cecily's type was the dangerous sort but someone she could tame with her good girl wiles. Turns out Jeremy was the bad boy for her after Landon had been needlessly cruel as Eli put it.

He waits until Jeremy's on the ground to soundlessly sneak up on him.

For someone that was so entrenched in the animal kingdom as an instinctive alpha male predator his guard is lowered in the dark, probably the post orgasmic glow leaving him too satiated to be fully alert.

Instead of saying anything or touching him to spook him, Landon decides to observe from only a few feet away. 

Jeremy doesn't move from his spot instead he flips through a book. Brows furrowed heavily.

Landon stares; blows out smoke.  

Nicotine fills the air but Jeremy just frowns over the book he stole from Cecily's room.

"That's BL," Landon informs him.

Jeremy stiffens.

"Boy's Love, young gay romance I believe, not that I'm particularly cultured," Landon shakes off some ash. "It's two boys fucking if your little brain couldn't understand." 

Then, because he's still slighted from his earlier humiliation, he swings out his whole arm, but Jeremy catches his wrist in an instant, BL manga still held open in the other hand.

Landon peers at it.

Full on porn in a classroom.

"It's always the good and quiet ones," Landon says.

Out of curiosity, he takes it from Jeremy's grubby fingers and pulls his wrist out of his grasp so he can examine the back and cover then he flips through the manga. 

Coming of age story where childhood friends Kei and Saki with a secret love for one another try to hide their blossoming feelings, but they're fucking on page 20.

Disinterested, he shrugs and shoves it back into Jeremy's chest and walks away. 

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"You blew up my bike," Jeremy say and he's stolen another BL manga but he waves it in Landon's face so he'll notice. 

"Stalking my childhood friend aside," Landon says, wanting to rile the man up further. "I never had to resort to reading manga to seduce her. She liked me for my charm."

Jeremy snorts. "You're the reason why she's hanging out with my sister so much."

"No wonder Creigh stopped answering my texts," Landon says with no true emotion. He hardly cares for complicated relationships, to have one person genuinely like you there were so many others to please. 

"I'm not stalking Cecily," Jeremy says belatedly since they've moved on from that point. But Landon stares at where he's hanging out underneath her window. Jeremy ignores that. "She was getting too close to my sister and I was suspicious then I hacked into--- well, I discovered something."

"Her love for BL manga," Landon says flatly. The hacking that Jeremy did was an actual problem.

"You. So many pictures," Jeremy says. Flips through a manga page. "Do you think she likes you genuinely or imagines you as a character in these mangas? You look like this one." He shows the bottom that's being rawdogged. Expression contorted in high ecstasy.

Landon throws back his head as he lets out a deeply unhinged laugh from his throat, then kicks out with murderous rage in his bones. The manga drops as Jeremy catches his leg securely, but his other hand slides up over Landon's thigh.

"What are you doing?" Landon says, hardly fazed but wanting to break Jeremy's hand for daring to touch him.

"Are you straight?"

"I don't like fucking myself," is how Landon chooses to respond to that. 

"So you get fucked." Something passes through his eyes taking half the light with it.

"None of your business, Volkov but I don't think I like you stalking Cecy." Since Jeremy pissed him off then he's going to make his life difficult.

Jeremy responds by yanking Landon in close by the leg so their fronts collide harshly enough for Landon's breath to whoosh out of his chest achingly. His thigh is held up as he's spun and pinned to the wall.

"Stop me," Jeremy dares, their noses touching. 

The tension causes Landon to shift but he's stuck there. Leg wrapped up around Jeremy's hip and wrist locked up against the side of his head by Jeremy's iron clad grip.

"I'm getting the wrong idea here," Landon says, feeling the incessant thump of his heart through his composure.

"What's wrong about it?"

This is the sort of tension that's charged with intent and since it's Jeremy it's one for violence and not sex, but Landon is struggling to adapt along with this. He's been rewired because of Mia, no sexual desire existed after he'd had a taste of her and became emotionally invested. He had tried but no one could fill that gaping void. His cock didn't get hard nor did his blood run so hot.

He's mistaking the fight for something sexual because of the intensity and their proximity. 

It reminds him of what he lost though, what he almost had and fury replaces whatever lust had tried to surge forth. He knocks his head against Jeremy's, causing him to groan from the unexpected hit and starts wailing on him with fists. But Jeremy only takes three punches on the shoulder before he moves in to crush Landon into the wall again, trapping his middle with a knee that's bent up. His calloused hands wrap around Landon's throat in a a literal chokehold as he knocks their foreheads together. Chins and mouths brushing too close.

Landon flails with frustrated noises, trying to kick and break free, but Jeremy tightens up his hands, and angles his face to cut his cheekbone with his own, and he's breathing harshly into Landon's ear.

And it's a cat chasing catnip since Jeremy's just rubbing his face all over his, and Landon stills in confusion as he tries to catch his breath.

Skin and blood running too hot.

"W-what? What's going on here?"

They both freeze.

Slowly they turn.

Cecily looks frightened but she's also blushing. Behind her are Creigh and Anni, though the latter is gaping in shock.

Creigh has a blank look but his eyes are gleaming dangerously.

"Step back from my cousin," he says, a poor attempt at protecting Landon's nonexistent honor. Though he also just doesn't like Jeremy.

"Wait," Cecily says. "Don't fight. Maybe we're misunderstanding." 

Landon blinks.

Annika squeaks something out in Russian.

And Landon decides he's going to learn it beyond what he knew for flirting because whatever she said has Jeremy jolting backwards, looking mildly embarrassed. He releases Landon entirely.

"He's being a fucking menace," Jeremy says.

As if to clear up any confusion then he's disappearing into the dark.

But Landon decides he's going to get rid of that burgeoning tension in the only way he knew how before it festered over an already old wound.

Weeks of mayhem consisted of blowing up Jeremy's bikes, starting fires, tracking shipments to cause delays, and endangering his life and that of his friends with deadly pranks.The latter which is Landon's own vindictive punishment because he never forgets. Mia is gone and the Heathens are hiding her from him. He had checked.

She was still attending TKU and none of his usual stalking has given him a glimpse almost as if she knew exactly what routes he was using and cleanly avoided him. Trying to provoke Nikolai was out of bounds though since they worked together in murdering his brother's rapist. But that didn't make them get along any better, it was only a truce that was so tentative if Landon stepped on Nikolai's toes he would end up a bloody stain on the ground.

Nikolai's not even the main target, but it still pisses him off which is good enough for Landon as he toes the line. If Nikolai is serious about Brandon then he needs to learn how to live with Landon's impulses. Since he's quite forgiving of Nikolai's violent anger.

"He can't perfectly control it any better than you can change the way your brain is wired. It's chemicals."

Jeremy places a marble on the chessboard. 

Landon wonders why Jeremy is stating the obvious. "I already know this." 

"So you just can't be bothered to care." 

"It doesn't affect me."

"It affects your brother."

Landon ponders over this and flicks away the marble and replaces it with a real pawn.

Then shrugs. "Nikolai's not in my life enough for me to bother."

"He will be," Jeremy says with certainty. Landon supposes it's true if he gets married to Brandon one day. 

The chess club is watching them in stupfied awe because Jeremy's tracked blood to his seat and is covered in soot and keeps trying to bomb all the pieces on the board with marbles. Which is obviously not how this works.

"By the way," Jeremy says quietly. "I gave you some grace because of the mourning period, but there will be no more delayed deliveries to my mansion, or my father's company, and no more bombed vehicles, or fires in our yard."

Landon moves a rook. "Where's Mia?" A catchphrase by now.

Jeremy stares at him with a cold face but heated eyes. "No more Mia," he says with finality.

I need a casket for him, Landon thinks because Mia had been more to him than anyone's willing to put faith in.

His muse.

Now he was a depressed artist.

Grief and anger, and those moments where he was a distant bystander to his own life.

"Checkmate," Landon says an hour later. Jeremy stares at the board, always calculating but never winning. Landon shrugs and grabs his coat from the back of his chair to put on and Jeremy stays there studying the board intently like it holds the secrets of the universe when it's just his own inepitude.

Yet, when Jeremy eventually isolates him a week later, takes away everything from him, so he's alone in the dark with no weapons, no pawns, nothing, he's outmatched and afraid, because Jeremy can break him with his barehands.

The danger radiating from Jeremy belongs to a killer that tortures people as a duty to fulfill. 

"How far will you go?" Jeremy asks, hands over his windpipes. Up against the tree with the bark digging into his spine. "Will you risk being alone when everyone starts leaving you behind because of your selfish actions?"

Messing with Jeremy meant messing with the people around him. 

The other Heathens, his sister and Landon's own family were part of this game too because they were foolishly enamored with their enemies. 

Landon laughs, choked and brittle. "I won't stop until I retrieve my colors," he says. 

Jeremy's eyes are grey.

Grey is the most bland and unnecessary color to exist. It's not really a color, but a shade. Incompletion. But grey is also dangerous. It's light or dark and heat. 

Heat in Jeremy's eyes that burn with murderous fury. 

"Colors," he intones. "I'll show you."

He cuts up Landon's shirt with a knife he had strapped to his body, because he's a bloody criminal, and Landon feels an inkling of fear that manages to paralyze him, so he's watching with an out of body experience. 

The blade is thin, and cold, even through the material of his shirt and he shivers as Jeremy makes ribbons out of the fabric so his nipples are out. Hard pebbles, but Jeremy's gaze turns intentful over his chest like he's sizing up a pair of breasts.

It gets Landon hot for no explainable reason. He's prideful of his masculinty and never liked when other men tried to dominate over him, but Jeremy isn't all bravado.

He'd actually kill Landon if he wanted to.

Instead the blade is handled carefully and there's a small nick of the sharp edge over his skin, around his nipple and blood swells out. 

Landon doesn't scream. 

He doesn't moan.

But he whimpers shakily from behind clenched teeth.

Sweat trickles from his hairline, and his nape, dripping over his neck.

And Jeremy heats him up with his gaze as he traces the thin slice of blood with his eyes. 

The bleeding is minimal and it doesn't hurt, as sharp as a razor and as easy to heal as a nick when shaving. But his enemy is doing this and his instincts are warning him to run as the weapon is held over his vulnerable skin. 

But then Jeremy shows him the blood on the tip of his blade.

His eyes flashing steel. 

"You bleed," he says.

A warning or a dare. 

And Landon takes both options. Warnings never stopped him, and dares always enticed him. 

"Do the other side so it's symmetrical," Landon says breathlessly.

Because the cut made him feel something and the blood is warm on the coldness of his existence.

And Jeremy's eyes. 

The flare of heat does something to him. 

He doesn't care if it's hatred and the man will probably end up killing him, because for now his world isn't muted. 

It's a grey so intense it's steel melting in lava. 

And Jeremy complies.

Slicing him up thinly.

And he bleeds.

Completely blindsided when Jeremy places his mouth over his tiny wounds with a hungry noise. Licking up his blood with his tongue meant to be some soothing balm.

Landon doesn't moan, he sighs. 

Shuddering needily. 

Hands suddenly cup over his chest in a familiar instinctive grasp. 

"They're not boobs," Landon says, flushed as Jeremy uses his own experience which has clearly only been with women.

Jeremy ignores him and flicks the pebbles of his nipples and gropes over the meat of his muscles, and his cock is hard up against Landon's thigh. More nicks are applied over around his nipples and more tongue, and rough fingers pulling at them. 

Drawn out sounds release from Landon.

"Baby," Jeremy says huskily. "I'm going to fuck you."

Fuck. 

Why is he calling Landon baby?

Angrily, he says, "I'm not a bloody woman."

But his knees are weak as he's propped up there as a blowup doll for Jeremy to use for his own pleasure.

"I want to see," Jeremy says, not once acknowledging his words.

The blade cuts over Landon's trousers but Jeremy seems to grow impatient since he rips at the material with his barehand, releasing a frustrated noise.

Like a moron, Landon simply watches until he feels goosebumps over the skin of his thighs and calves from the cold air. In contrast his cock slaps against his stomach, hard and flushed.

But his clothes are torn to shreds so he has nothing to wear after this.

Indignant, he reaches out, intent on punishing Jeremy but the man snatches up his wrists in an ironclad grip. 

"Be good," Jeremy warns, then ties the cut up pieces of Landon's shirt around his wrists. It's not a secure knot but Landon pretends to struggle a bit, not wanting to seem as if he's surrendering too easily. 

"Do you even know what the fuck you're doing?" Landon hisses.

"I've fucked," Jeremy says.

"Not men."

"I'm going to fuck you like you're mine," Jeremy says to that.

And Landon's breath seizes in his chest when Jeremy starts nicking over his inner thighs, sharp razor cuts that cause his entire body to shiver. So thin they're nearly invisible, but he feels the warm swell of blood and Jeremy's searing mouth sealing over them finally makes him scream. 

A scream that's akin to a trapped noise in a box underwater because it's muffled by his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Keeping his lips firmly pressed together to contain his dignity, but then Jeremy's mouth is down there.

Near his balls.

The hilt of the knife prods at it.

Landon's legs go stiff.

Then Jeremy's tongue licks over his sack. 

The hilt prods lower, near his taint, and it simply rubs, the same way a person would hump a thigh, instead Jeremy's trying to get him off with his knife. 

Landon finally opens his mouth, a noise pitched low but airy falls out. 

Jeremy takes that as permisson since he sucks his balls roughly into his mouth with no techinque, just hunger, and prods the hilt harder, back and forth, rubbing at Landon's taint like it's some fucking clit.

He could laugh, because it's like dealing with a virgin but it's a fucking straight man relying on his instincts.

Though the humor is short-lived because Landon is the one that's pinned there, despite Jeremy being on his knees for him. And his legs shake because of Jeremy, his mouth is full of fervor, sucking with possessiveness.

He doesn't care if Landon is feeling good or not, this is for himself.

Not even experimenting but rather enjoying the taste and weight of Landon in his mouth.

His natural scent.

And his cum heavy in his balls.

"Y-you're a beast," he says shakily, chest heaving and his cock leaks, cum splattering dots on his stomach.

Because this is the hottest he's ever felt.

The depravity of Jeremy as he savors Landon's balls.

And then hands clench over his hips tightly, and turn him around with ease.

"I'll show you," Jeremy rasps.

And a hard cock slides between his thighs, blood smearing over it as it postions itself to fuck him there. The slapping of his balls is obscene and Landon has gotten into more intense sex than this but he's never been manhandled.

Never been treated as an object for someone else to use, and do whatever the fuck they wanted. 

He groans, and leans his forehead against the bark of the tree, slumped there as Jeremy fucks his thighs in rough motions with complete control of everything.

His tied wrists held up against his chest as Jeremy gives him a preview of how rough and animal he could possily be. If they fucked for real then the way Landon felt would be intensified, and he realizes he wants that.  

But he'll never beg for it. 

The very next night Landon dances and drinks at a club. 

With three people then five and after a body shot, Remi shows up to take him back to their table.

Unfortunately more crowded than when they arrived. The Heathens are there. 

Landon rolls his eyes but his naturally seeks out a certain leather jacket clad man. He's at the edge of the table squeezed next to Cecily. Head angled to whisper into her ear with his hands under the table probably over her thighs if the blush on her face means anything. For some reason Landon forgot they were hooking up and he glances away. His gaze catches on blond under the lights and his throat squeezes tightly.

Then he blinks and Gareth Carson comes into focus. He's morosely staring into his cup while everyone else is with someone. 

Landon moves up from his seat, needing another view, not wanting to see something so sickeningly sweet after Jeremy Volkov made him bleed and cum. Wonders if he does that to Cecily and imagines not. He's seemingly a tamed bad boy around her.

Everyone's drinking and talking, and Landon can't drink anymore unless he wants to get stupidly wasted but he can flirt. He slides next to Gareth, and he's not a Mia clone but they were cousins that looked similar in some regard and the man was ungodly pretty leaving none of the good genes left for his younger brother.

"Hey," Landon says, elbow resting on the table as he leans in. Gareth tilts his head carefully, staring at him from the corner of his eye.

"King?" 

It's a confused sort of timbre like why the hell are you bothering me for?

Landon chuckles. "You're pretty," he says bluntly. Maybe he can fuck him and get it over with. This tension that follows him can't be unqiue to Jeremy. Not when Jeremy's with Cecily. He refuses to be another bootycall.

Gareth doesn't blush but he ducks his head a little and his eyes are narrowed suspiciously. "What are you up to?" He asks.

"Fucking you is on my agenda," Landon says into his ear. Around them there is blasting EDM, and sweaty bodies dancing on the floor, and their table of drunk and horny but pretending-to-care-about-friends taking up seats, but it seems rather hushed suddenly. 

Gareth's warm and smells good and has pretty blond hair, and Landon's hand is up touching it before he thinks. People are watching, he can sense it, but there are always eyes on Landon so it's not anything that breaks him from his attraction. Though it's more of an artist appreciating a painting than actual desire. Still, he tries to get his own blood hot. He drank enough for the effect.

A hand curls over his shoulder but it's not Gareth because the man moves back creating room and someone takes up that space.

Cedarwood, and bergamot flood his senses the same way as saltwater does at a beach, spraying you in the face; stinging yet refreshing.

"Landon," a cold voice says. "Let's play truth or dare."

The whole table's quiet but when he glances to the side he sees everyone is still there. His jaw works.

"Okay."

No one else leans in.

It's just Jeremy and Landon in their own bubble. Jeremy even blocks him from view by spreading out his body and leaning his shoulder upwards with his arm perched on the table.

"Truth or dare?" A rasp of a voice that's as loud as his heart beat pulsating in his ears.

"Dare."

"Kiss me."

No hesitation, Landon grabs a cup and cheats with a small sip, but he slurps then licks his lips.

"Truth or dare?" His voice sounds younger in contrast, accent thickened by false innocence.

"Truth."

"Where's Mia?"

Jeremy's fingers pry the glass from him and he drinks from it like it's a shot, not breaking eye contact for a split second.

Mouth dry, Landon swallows.

"Truth or dare?" 

"Dare."

"Kiss me."

Landon takes back the cup, fingers lingering in the exchange, and drinks. It's empty but he shoves his tongue in for a tiny droplet.

Instanteously, the world is slightly spinning and he thinks he's drunk, but Jeremy is carrrying him outside before he's aware of it. Eyes following them, but no one attempts to rescue him, even when he's pushed into the alleyway.

"What was that?" Jeremy demands, crowding him up against the brick wall.

"Truth or dare."

"With Gareth."

"Are we still playing?"

A whipping motion of air causes Landon to feel a chill then in a milisecond there's something hard and cold pressing into his temple.

Metal.

"The truth Landon."

An actual gun.

Heart skipping a beat and breath hitching, Landon licks his lip, and stares into grey eyes that belong to a killer. "Blond hair," he croaks, lashes stuck together. "I think it's pretty."

"And me?" Jeremy asks, clicking the safety off.

Landon's never going to forgive Jeremy for this. Even if the chamber's empty, no one intimidates him, and it's the notion. "You're straight," he says.

"I am," Jeremy confirms. The muzzle of the gun slides lower, caressing his cheek in a mockery of something loving. But Landon's blood runs hot and he's tilting his head and opening his mouth to suck the muzzle in between his lips. Looking through his wet lashes, he tongues around the opening, tasting metal and gunpowder.

Brows creasing as he concentrated and tremors cause the gun to slip lower as Jeremy's hand shakes. His breathing loud and erratic as Landon kisses his gun, even sweetly pouting his lips over it, making direct eye contact as he releases a breathy sound that's muffled by his mouth being full. His eyes teary and pleading for mercy from a villain. 

Then he pulls away, strings of saliva on his mouth and dripping off the gun.

As Jeremy trembles full-body with his gun clenched so hard in his hand it shakes, Landon calmly walks out, wiping his mouth dry with the back of his hand and intent of reuniting with his bed.

He's had enough fun for today.

But as he's requesting an Uber he bumps into someone and he looks up.

Cecily.

She stares wide eyed at him, and blushes.

Landon stares, confused but also wanting to rattle her up, and expose Jeremy but he's tired.

So he simply nods at her then walks over near a lamp post to wait for his ride.

Immediately without having to be in her presence Landon is aware it's not Mia.

From the distance, he watches her, in the shadows unnoticed when he's usually the life of a crowded room.

Another club, not so late so it's not as wild. People are drinking their stress away, dancing for relief and talking in corners, couches filled with friend groups, a more intimate mood.

Blond platinum hair flashing under LED lights.

Blue eyes.

But a one thousand dollar dress and Louboutin heels and a brand name purse clutched to her chest. Red painted lips, heavy eyeliner and mascara. Maya's trying hard to hide her vulnerability, the femininity is innate but the need to dress up for social media for attention. No matter how superficial it all is.

Landon doesn't understand why he tracks her every move. Maya and Mia weren't anything alike, the same way he and Brandon were only mistaken from certain angles yet the eyes gave them away. Brandon's arrogant but he's empathetic. Landon threatens and blackmails his own family and friends and Brandon would never. Scolding them was the harshest thing he's done.

In the hallway near the VIP rooms, Maya looks in her compact mirror and then startles at the reflection.

Landon's suddenly appeared right behind her. Staring into it too. Blue eyes dull. Nervously she gulps and shuts it, shoving it back into her purse. 

Where's Mia?

Instead he touches the crown of her head. Waiting for her to freeze.

But she's trembling, eyes darting around anxiously.  

A second later, he's pushed back into the wall. A blond man's in his way. Cold expression and chipped ice for eyes.

"What are you doing with Miss Sokolov?"

It's the guard he caught her hooking up with on the security footage, but he's meant to be guarding Jeremy.

Which is why he's not surprised when Jeremy arrives the next instant with some built in radar he had just for Landon since he's always showing up wherever he is, this time it's excusable because it's a public establishment.

Jeremy isn't angry. Nor protective. Maya scurries away back into the VIP room and he doesn't spare her a glance.

He watches Landon.

Landon watches him.

"You're done here, Ilya," Jeremy says. Ilya doesn't hesitate and rejoins his princess in their torrid class difference love affair.

There's a hand clenching over his throat suddenly and he's dragged by it, and shoved into another clubroom. He lets himself be pushed down onto a leather couch.

"Niko would have killed you," Jeremy sounds angry despite his stoic face.

Unfeeling, Landon says, "I'd still win, because Bran would hate him." 

Jeremy takes that as his cue to start stripping, shrugging off his leather jacket so he's only in a muscle tank, and in front of his midriff the handle of his gun sticks out from where it's tucked into his jeans. And that's why Landon knows it's never loaded because that's a hazard with no safety precaution from an experienced killer. Yet he probably has bullets in his pockets like they're spare change. Proving so, he withdraws a bullet from his jean pocket and inserts it into the chamber and spins it. 

"Russian Roulette," he says. "You know the probability, don't you, genius. Since you're so smart let's just start."

The muzzle is pointed at Landon's forehead then he presses it down over his skin, hard enough to leave a red mark, a click sound from turning the safety off.

"Have you ever been fucked by a man?"

Landon slowly blinks.

Then he glances away.

Letting the seconds tick by slowly.

"Landon."

"Why aren't you shooting?"

Jeremy's hand shakes.

The gun lowers but to Landon's mouth, the muzzle tracing his bottom lip then tugging it down. Landon doesn't fight as his mouth falls open. Firmly the gun is shoved in, clacking against his teeth. Jeremy moves it up and down like a flashlight peering inside the inner cavern, checking out his tongue and teeth. Rubs his gun over Landon's tongue, then knocks it up against the roof of his mouth. Landon can't control his own sensitivity so he flushes red and emits a muffled moan.

Jeremy is spurred on. Trying to get Landon to gag as he fucks in--- because that's what he's doing. Fucking Landon's mouth with his gun. Vengefully.

"Look at you," Jeremy says, cooing. "I wish there were mirrors on the ceiling so you can see yourself."

Landon gulps down spit so he doesn't choke, and he feels a stirring in his groin.

"You aren't fucking anyone else," Jeremy says. "How could you when you love what I'm doing to you? They won't ever know what you truly want because I'm the only one who can break you in for the real slut hiding underneath this mask." 

The gun is pulled out and Landon heaves for air, mouth covered in spit. Jeremy places the muzzle over his forehead again. "Do you imagine my gun as a dick when you're sucking it?"

Landon spits as an answer. Since he's a mess anyway, he doesn't care for dignity. Jeremy breathes harshly then he's gripping Landon's jaw roughly to pull him in closer.

"You're begging for it with your eyes," Jeremy says, squeezing harder. Metal enters his mouth again but Jeremy pushes the muzzle against the inside of his cheek so it slightly bulges outwards.

"Spit again."

His eyes shut because tears are starting to gather but they already caught onto his lashes. The gun disappears from his mouth again, back on his forehead with a slickness from saliva.

"The game starts now."

Landon is wrung out. He whimpers, turning his head away.

"Open your eyes, or I'll shoot."

With a sniffle, Landon does, vision hot and a blur.

Jeremy becomes utterly still.

A heartbeat passes between them.

Then he lies,because he pulls the trigger.

But Landon doesn't flinch. 

So he sees every second.

Jeremy is the one who appears as if he lost everything, all pale and shaking, grey eyes wide and shimmering.

Not with tears.

But something so vulnerable it shatters the intensity of his gaze.

Landon wipes his face with his sleeve, and sits up, not calm but not experiencing any other emotions that shake him up either.  

"It was empty. Slight of hand."

Jeremy's voice is quiet but adamant.

In a rush, Jeremy shows him a demonstration. Taking out another bullet to insert into the chamber but his fingers are wickedly quick so he flicks it downwards to slide over his palm so it drops down to where his leather jacket is in a heap on the couch. 

Landon takes this all in blankly.

"Say something," Jeremy says with some urgency.

There's nothing to say. 

Landon flips him off and runs out before Jeremy can react. 

All the emotions come rushing in, the high of adrenaline, and arousal throughout his escape and somehow he's back in his room. For the first time in forever he's jacking himself off instead of using a welcoming hole.

Tears in his eyes because he's frustrated.

And confused. 

Not sure if he wants to kill Jeremy or keep him around for longer.

Nightclubs aren't fun anymore so Landon focuses wholly on chess as a hobby to destress.

Everything that happened in dark alleyways, dark forests, and VIP clubrooms is suppressed because he's on a battlefield intending to be victorious with no distractions.

There's never a genuine challenge but his mind needed the priority over his emotions so he busies it as much as possible.

Soon, his days on this island will be over and he'll face real adversaries. 

And the people here will be a footnote to him. 

"Checkmate." 

Landon wins.

Collects his prize. 

Then he's there.

Always a constant in his peripheral. 

Jeremy's presence causes a wake of silence despite how often he comes by. He doesn't hide what he is as he settles in his seat, danger written all over his tattoos when he takes off his leather jacket.

With it on, people would have still avoided him because he exhibited thug behavior, smoking carelessly with a flask of vodka in his other hand, and his knife is out because he thinks it's hilarious to break the rules.

Landon smokes, but he does it privately, meanwhile Jeremy doesn't care about causing other people lung damage.

Once he unwinds somewhere comfortably then that place belonged to him. Like a dog pissing and marking it's terrority. Frustration wells inside of Landon because every place he considered his is being invaded and Jeremy won't leave him alone. Playing chess with him only isn't mindnumbing because Landon crushes him on the board so gruesomely it pleases him, for a while. Jeremy isn't a mastermind but he's still a strategist, a killer, a torturer and a hunter. And Landon figures this out during their matches.

Jeremy isn't impatient but he'll want to use pieces beyond the board, and being hindered by the rules of the game affects him greatly. A lawless criminal wouldn't have cared about breaking the law and endangering bystanders, but there's also a level of restraint so the gates to their underworld isn't discovered. 

But Landon learns how Jeremy's mind works the more they play, and he derives satisfaction from owning him completely. He can haunt Landon all he wanted, but Landon's not the obsessive one here in need of a fix. Either Jeremy's protecting the Heathens (and Mia) from him or he knows his life will become extremely dull once Landon's no longer in his life anymore.

As a mafia prince based in New York there wasn't any reason for their paths to ever intersect again. Even Brandon won't be able to force Landon to take part of that if he does eventually marry Nikolai.

"Checkmate," Landon yawns.

And Jeremy sits there after losing to study the board as Landon leaves with his prize.

But Jeremy never seems to learn anything. 

Landon however should have known better.

Graduation looms in the horizon as Landon completes his projects for his finals and thinks of sunlight.

That's why he walks outside. For fresh air and the sun rays even on this perpetually foggy island covered in layers of mists. But it's too early in the morning so it's considered late for people who's just gone to bed a few hours ago.

Still, Landon strolls around the outer mansion. And he smokes near a tree, not contemplating life but the colors.

It's not dull, but a shade darker but that's because the only light are the stars and distant street lamps. 

There's a whispering of movement as a warning, but he's completely at ease when he feels coldness on his skin. 

Cold metal. 

He doesn't freeze.

But he glances over without moving. 

Jeremy stares back, the gun pressing into the skin underneath Landon's ear. 

"Why are you so quiet?"

He inhales over his cigeratte then blows out smoke.

"I lost my colors." 

"You don't seem to be failing in your art pieces."

"What do you know about art?" Landon says, dropping his cigarette and stomping on it.

The muzzle slides lower to rub harshly over his throat. 

"I can figure out how long it took you to sculpt, where your hands have been, and what inspired you."

"Liar," Landon accuses but he's God forbid intrigued.

Jeremy's a mafia prince, but there's more to him than just sheer violence. There's a certain precision to his emotions as he weaponizes them, not madly but in a way he can use that is purposely targeted, the analysises his brain works through like a computer and his hacking skills.

But Landon has already classified him and it would be difficult to change that even with new facts. It's how his own brain works.

Jeremy's an enemy and mafia so he's meant to be scum and eradicated. He has a weapon pointed at Landon again.

It's unforgivable but Landon hasn't gotten around to showing his bad side yet.

Killing Jeremy will solve this lagging issue.

"Where's Mia?" He asks again, but this time he grips the gun and tries to pry it into his own hand. But Jeremy's quick and stronger when it comes to push and pull.

"If you truly love her then you wouldn't have stopped searching when she left you. You're a chaotic force of nature, Landon, anything in your way is collateral for your endgame. And you would have torn apart the mansion to find her or used your spy network. You haven't. Why?"

The gun is under his chin, stroking back and forth. 

Landon laughs, head tilted slightly back. "I'm a genius so why is the world moving so slowly yet I am unable to comprehend a single thing?" 

"So your feelings for her weakens you?"

"No," Landon hisses. Because he's not weak. "When your warm colors are snatched away, you become cold and the world is duller than ever."

"I think you're depressed."

"I'm an artist with no muse."

"Find another one," Jeremy says coldly.

Landon doesn't say anything for a moment as he stares. Then abruptly he attacks Jeremy, because he's angered by the audacity and the gun he has a bad habit of whipping out to intimidate Landon. Jeremy fights back so they're full of grit as they shove and punch at one another. Then Landon's pinned onto the grass and he rolls them over so he's straddling Jeremy and his fist is raised up to punch him in the face, but he's suddenly so exhausted.

It lands lightly and he slumps with a ragged breath after Jeremy takes the soft punch to cheek, hardly reacting but he stares up with anger. It's not frightening but Landon moves off; settling down next to him and lays there with no intention of getting up, his eyes drifting to a close.

In a blink, he's awake and in his room and his curtains are open for the sun to beam through.

Groggily he gets up, sore from bruises but when he stares at them in the mirror after a shower the purple marks spark something dormant within him.

When Jeremy sees them on his face hours later from where he'd punched his cheek and jaw, it's as if he's chasing catnip again, since he rushes over on instinct, drags Landon into an alleyway, and rubs his face all over his in that nuzzling way lions do.

The bruises he spots on Jeremy's face causes his own heart to flip. He wants to bite him, but chooses to shove him back.

Not liking the manhandling and possessive quality to Jeremy's touches.

Which leads to more shoving since Jeremy tries to slam him against the wall again.

"Fuck off, you brute," Landon says, struggling to get free. But Jeremy's not taxed from their latest fight at all, instead he's invigorated, more intense.

"котенок," Jeremy rasps into his ear as he actually pets him. Over his stomach and his hair, stroking like he's some disgruntled cat in need of doting attention. "I have scratches from you over my shoulder, and the boys all think it's from sex. Told them it was a feral kitty--"

Landon leans up to bite his ear.

"You dog," Jeremy says with too much lightness for it to be an insult. And he leans further into it so his hair brushes over Landon's eyes. He has to open his mouth and release, not wanting to be closer than he needed to be, or suffocated by that intoxicating scent. His chin is stroked again but lifted upwards so he can stare directly into Jeremy's candlelit gaze.

A flame that's burning but only warmly, to not be considered too dangerous if left unintended. 

But a flame is still a fire with a heated temperature so Landon stares in fascination.

"Why are you two always fighting?"

Cecily again.

But she doesn't seem all that shocked to find them, hand on her hip and gaze narrowed then finally a horrified gasp.

"What exactly are you doing bullying Lan?" 

And Landon's not sure he appreciates her tone. Considering he's the leader of the Elites but Jeremy seems to actually listen to her as he shifts on his feet like a scolded schoolboy which infuriates Landon, so he storms off.

Not understanding anything, but choosing to focus on this new directive of demolishing Jeremy, and he'll play chess while doing it. Cecily can leash Jeremy all she wanted, Landon will still draw the beast out to punish accordingly.

Brandon starts hovering about one day.

Concerned eyes for his bruises.

The studio has only tools in it and easel boards, a proper cleanout but Landon smokes and drops ash as he walks around.

"It's all good," Landon says, despite how much he usually despises a mark on his perfect face. But he is able to feel a surge of violence which is better than the hollow cold chamber that echoes in his chest.

"Everyone's getting along these days, Lan. Can you and Jeremy settle your issues peacefully?"

Confused, Landon stares. "Jeremy isn't dead, Bran." 

Brandon sighs. "He's Niko's best friend so Niko gets upset over seeing him all beaten up."

A grin emerges on Landon's face. "Then that's perfect." 

"We had a talk, and marriage is in our future."

Landon shrugs. "So what? Does being married stop him from being a violent bloodthirsty brute?"

"He's trying for me because he knows how important you are to me, and I'm not choosing between you again."

"Do you know where Mia is?" He ask because that's how it's going to be for the rest of his life.

The reminder of what he lost.

Nikolai's the connection he had to her.

The worst betrayal is the silence.

Landon picks up a chisel and throws it at the window. It flies out with glass shards. "You know what it's done to me! Her absence! I was sculpting for her! She was my muse!"

"Mia left behind a letter for you," Brandon says.

"I have never seen it, so you're lying!'

"I wouldn't lie about this, Lan, but it's supposed to be somewhere you can see it in your art studio."

The words are hardly finished when Landon urgently runs out and rushes to his McLaren, then he speeds up to the landmark that's all scorched earth. 

The place is in ruins and it's charred so there's no remnants but ash and melted clay. He searches frantically anyway for hours. The paper will be nothing, but he gazes around for any hint of it, in hopes of magic actually existing.

The sky darkens and his eyes sting. Scooping up ash he releases a noise of guttural rage and tosses the useless chunk into wood that's burnt to a crisp.

Inhaling only gives him lung damage since it constricts so hard he can hardly breathe.

Shadows shift in the dark.

A stationary piece of paper falls upon his lap and he desperately picks it up, and it crinkles so hard it almost rips.

Ink and blue flower prints are a blur, and his vision is too hot to make any sense of it.

"Why did you have this?" He asks hoarsely.

"I went back to your studio because I dropped something and found this tucked under the door."

"Why did you take it?"

"I think you two are a bad idea, and I couldn't exactly return it after the stunts you were pulling on us since it was a mess to clean up."

Landon can only attempt to control his breathing to stop the hiccup that's about to tear out of his throat.

"What does it say?"

Jeremy crouches down next to him.

Citrus and wood and heat emanating from his presence. 

"This game is over, so goodbye Landon."

Not a poem.

An explanation, or an apology.

Enraged, he tears it into shreds.

Never has he been so belittled to be nothing but an insignificant dalliance in the dark for a defiant princess wanting a taste of a villain but ultimately deciding to opt for a life without him.

A princess that wants mundane goodness, yet leaves behind the villain she inspired humanity in so cruelly.

Villains never won at love. They were foils to others more deserving of obtaining happiness.

Mia probably had her future planned out with some boring man.

He laughs.

It rains.

And he's cold again.

"Where is Mia?"

Landon stops asking.

He slips back to his routines, partying at the Elite Mansion, attending sex clubs but as a voyeur to spark his own blood but he's still cold and the only place he's ruthless is the chess club. His brain is trying to adapt to a colorless world but he doesn't have time to wait in misery so he wars with his opponents. Crushes them with no mercy and wins every battlefield with his instincts powered by his genius mind.

Jeremy sits down often.

He loses all their matches but Landon's heart thumps incessantly, because he realizes belatedly that Jeremy's gaze is one of a scanner, intent on remembering every strategy yet refusing to implement any of it.

So it's a game beyond the board.

Instead of being wary, Landon is focused with his own directive.

Crush the enemy.

Another night, Landon wears his venetian mask while watching the bodies squirming on the bed in their performative passion from behind a two way mirror.

He wishes he was inside to conduct them because they're clearly new to this, a bit awkward but not in that amateur authenticity, rather they're incompatible.

Clicking his tongue, he decides he's wasted enough of his Saturday night and turns around.

Instantly awareness tingles on his body, eyes are gazing with a sniper focus.

Out of the shadows, the prince of the underworld walks out.

No mask, just his cold brutal face. In an instant he's ripping Landon's mask off like it's an offensive eyesore. The lack of barrier causes Landon to swallow reflexively. He doesn't mind people knowing he's here but he doesn't want anyone to think he's getting off them without being touched. Because they'll think he's some commoner.

Jeremy examines the mask in his hand, spinning it around then his gaze snaps back up. 

"Wanna do a scene with me?" He asks casually with darker eyes.

"We aren't compatible," Landon replies automatically. 

Jeremy doesn't laugh or bring up anything that's already happened between them. Instead he takes out his phone with his other hand and pulls something up, then shows Landon the screen. "So many overlaps," he points out, thumb swiping over the checklist.

Not for the first time Landon thinks this hacking is becoming a real problem. Especially for private secrets like this. Although not ashamed about his sex life he dislikes the information being accessible with a mere click from someone else's fingertips. 

Carefully, he exhales heavily. "I'm a dominant partner, so we'd need a third if you want to try any of that out." 

"Fine," Jeremy says with a shrug.

"A man," Landon decides testily.

Jeremy simply nods, looking impatient.

Briefly Landon hesitates as a distant nameless emotion passes through him, but he's not cowed by Jeremy and he'll prove that he's better than him here too when it regarded fucking. So they go through the procedure of booking a private room, then searching for their third at the bar.

Then it all goes to hell, because Landon's found a perfect submissive bottom into being shared. Too perfect. A twink with brown hair, and blue eyes. But he lures the man, Terry, into their room, intent on getting rid of this strange tension he had with Jeremy, only for Jeremy to whip out his gun. 

Terry screams.

"Calm down," Landon says, mildly irritated. By the loud shrill shrieking and Jeremy's nonchalant stance in the face of it as if he isn't the cause. His gun is still out, and about.

"Please don't--- kill me--" Terry cries.

Jeremy places his gun on the man's head.

"Stop!" Landon snaps. Not sure at who but he's suddenly incensed. Terry's wails are piercing his eardrums, and his skin sizzles from the reminder of cool metal in his own mouth.

Too scared to move Terry relies on Landon for protection as he clings to his chest. "W-why does he have a gun?"

"It's not real. Just a sex prop." Jeremy arches a taunting brow, and Landon's jaw clenches. 

"O-oh," Terry sounds interested now. "I've never...will you be gentle with me?"

"You want to continue?" Landon's tone is too flat but he's never had a high tolerance for people in the first place.

Terry nods, face bright red. 

Then, Jeremy's hovering over Landon shoulder with the gun aimed at Terry's head, the safety clicking off. "It's just a game," he assures.

Terry still looks scared, but his wide eyes are begging for Jeremy, staring at the gun like it's a cock.

A flash of anger passes through Landon and he assumes it's because Jeremy's breaking the rules.

Gunplay isn't on the kink list. And it isn't a prop. Terry has given him their trust, and Landon's not particularly caring with his sex partners, but he never lied to them. 

Jeremy's body closes in more tightly behind Landon so he's trapped between the two men. Terry's asking to be ruined with his expression, two dangerous men but on opposite sides of the spectrum are paying attention to him.

Flushed cheeks, and thick brown lashes over blue eyes, with a parted plush mouth, staring up eagerly and pathetically. 

After Jeremy rests his chin over Landon shoulder, he knocks the muzzle further into Terry's forehead so the man's moving slightly back with it between his eyes. Landon wants to break him, but he doesn't know where to start. Crushing his windpipes is an insistent thought that he fights.

"Close your eyes, baby," Jeremy says roughly.

Landon wants to kill him since Terry listens immediately; he could have shut him the fuck up earlier. The urge to choke Terry intensifies, and there's a tight emotion in Landon's chest as he's forced to hold back.

"мой малыш," Jeremy whispers into his ear. Causing it to flush hotly from his breath. "Explain the rules of the game, and the probability of a bullet passing through his skull."

Then, he spins the cylinder for Landon's viewing.  

The world's rotation stops, the air stills so it's hard to breathe, but Landon is warm, at the center of earth. 

Jeremy seems to have a revelation since he nuzzles the side of Landon's face, and Landon relaxes into him instead of fighting back.

When Landon blinks, Terry is still there patiently waiting with a fully loaded gun placed on his head.

"Get him out of here," Jeremy says dangerously soft.

A few minutes later, after kindly throwing Terry out of the room, Landon crosses his arms sternly.

"That only worked out so well, because of me."

Jeremy's seated on the velvet couch, all tensed despite his posture being laid back.  "I can go kill him if you want."

"Absolutely not. I will not be associated with the mess leftover from a murderer's bloody fiesta."

Jeremy scoffs with an eye-roll.

"Spare me the attitude," Landon snaps. "You're fortunate my quick thinking saved us, and he bought that your gun was a sex prop or it would have been a bloody disaster, now he's probably gossiping about how unsatisfactory that was!" A rageful growl escapes him at the mere thought of his reputation being slightly stained but he manages his temper by shakily taking out his lighter and cigarette for a smoke.

Nonchalantly, Jeremy's gaze flickers over him, but his voice is all heat, "It'll be just us."

Huffing irritably because he has to explain a basic proboem to a child."We have the same kinks but the same preferences in our roles too. I only receive blowjobs, nothing else." 

Jeremy sits back, thighs spread and his gun tapping over his knee. Eyes as dark as coal. "But you liked being an object for me to use."

"No," Landon says around his cigarette so it comes out sounding small.

"Yeah," Jeremy says in that soft dangerous tone.

Landon doesn't protest further, he just smokes.

"Let's try it out, Landon," Jeremy softens. His tone still quiet but layered with an urging plea. Landon gulps, fingers twitching. This isn't a surrender but Jeremy's weakness.

He's obsessed with Landon and that's not Landon's vulnerability so he'll be the one with all the power, no matter who's topping or dominant.

That expression on Jeremy's face from their poor excuse of a Russian Roulette game also flashes to mind. He'd lost, and turned to begging and appeasing as an apology so Landon knows if he went too far Jeremy would be the one groveling on his knees.

"Only some of it."

Landon's never been on the receiving end so he doesn't know his limits. His pride isn't a foolish thing either where he thinks he can master all of sex.

"I'm not into fucking myself," he adds his biggest hard nos.

Jeremy doesn't blink. "You'll never have to when I'm around."

Landon nods approvingly.

There's no dramatic shift between them because they still fight but it's more sexually charged since neither of them hold back.

Jeremy breaks under pressure first.

Which mean he loses.

But Landon wants pain.

His virginity, he wants to laugh, is actually something to lose. And Jeremy is an animal, and he likes it, the burn, the fullness even the stickiness that reminds him of blood. And actual blood. Jeremy uses his mouth on him, softening his hole up till it's pliant enough for him to prod around with the muscle of his tongue.

He spits into Landon's twitching hole, fingers spreading his cheeks as he's laid back, calves over Jeremy's shoulders and the moon gleaming down through the dark fog at them.

Dirt, dried leaves and twigs aren't a proper bed but Landon's skin has goosebumps one moment then cold sweat before he's warmed up from the inside with a burning heat.

Jeremy thrusts into him, and Landon clenches as much as he could, panting and feeling the cock so deep in his throat he could taste it on his tongue. That's how Jeremy fucks him, his cock fully seated and then grinding to get further in as his balls slap against Landon's arse.

And he has the energy to talk while Landon's lungs constrict, on fire from holding his breath just to feel more.

It should hurt but instead he felt alive.

The rest of the thirty minutes had been so intense that Landon needed to be carried back to another place for proper aftercare. In the backseat of his McLaren no less with Jeremy kneeling at the door. 

He didn't struggle despite his pride because he wasn't an idiot, and his survival instincts were telling him to give in to Jeremy at that moment. Intently keen over Landon's fragile body, cleaning him up firmly but not ignoring a single thing even if Landon hissed in pain, he still prodded.

Then.

Then tongue.

"Beast," Landon manages to say through a croak.

But Jeremy had cleaned him of blood and cum and used a healing salve on him, gentling around his swollen rim with a finger, then replaced it with his tongue. It's not trying to fuck into him, but rather spreading the relief since Jeremy's fingers were too harsh, too calloused. And Landon had kept flinching away. 

Jeremy hums. Satisfied.

And Landon didn't much know what to do after that. But he's so boneless he rides out the rest of the care with no defenses held up.

Staring at Jeremy with hazy eyes, wondering why his enemy was so responsible instead of just leaving him out there for the vultures to find.

"This sweet ass," Jeremy says hoarsely, looking up at him with a glossy mouth. "It's mine, Landon, to use and to care for." He gives it a gentle tap since he had just applied the care it needed. 

"I thought I was the psychopath," Landon says, wanting to get rid of the heat creeping over his face. "Until I met you."

"I'm sane, or I was. The environment I grew up made me this way."

Landon purses his lips, wanting every morsel of information he can get his hands on, especially if it was his enemy's weaknesses. Talking isn't brand new to them, but the tension was similar to a bonfire. Even if you had to share it with the people you didn't like you were still warm and cozy. A false sense of security but he had nothing else to do, the silence was crackling anyway. Might as well enjoy the flames until it smothered out to a cold emptiness. 

"Did you ever see a psychologist?" He asks.

Jeremy seems amused, but offers definitely, "No." 

It's one of Landon's habits to pry so he persists. "Do your parents not care that you're slipping into the darkness?"

"It's a family legacy wired into our bloodline. As an heir we have a loyal duty to fulfill for the structure of our world, so it's not darkness, but a mechanism in an ecosystem," Jeremy answers concisely. 

He's known Jeremy's had a slight rasp to his already gruff voice, but whenever he talks longer there's an accented twang from growing up in New York that comes out stronger, and as someone who's gained attraction because of his apparently sexy British accent...Landon feels adrift.

It's an objective observation yet he tilts his head so he can hear more.

Blood rushes to his fingertips and his heart is fluttering in his throat. He didn't know it could do that since anatomically speaking it's not positioned there at all, but still.

The sensation he gets whenever Jeremy speaks in that tone. He stares at Jeremy's face, the grey eyes that are distinctively different from other neurotypicals because they belong to a conditioned killer. But when he expresses himself it's intense and more genuine than anything Landon tries to accomplish. 

Landon has an edge of mania to his grins, and his laughs but they're not real. Even Jeremy had more emotions than him.

Uneasy, he swallows, and glances away.

"Don't do that," Jeremy says harshly. "Look at me."

"No," Landon shuts his eyes.

"How about we make a deal? You don't hide from me and I'll tell you facts about me as a reward."

"What makes you think you're all that interesting to me?"

"I'm giving you weapons," Jeremy says as a matter of fact. "It's up to you how you use them."

Intrigued, Landon opens his eyes and stares.

Maybe he'll be the one to kill Jeremy before the other man killed him.

So the bargain with the devil is struck.

The only time they have these talks though are after sex, their version of pillowtalk, but Landon has never stayed past his post orgasm with anyone else to really know how this all worked.

But it never stopped happening throughout the following weeks, and he wasn't subdued by any means, but his chaos was more concentrated and focused on Jeremy as he tried to get into his mind with the pieces he had gathered.

More than anything though, Landon wants to burn the stack of BL manga Cecily has on her bookshelf whenever he catches Jeremy reading them in his room. The other man creeping through the window and sitting in the corner with a manga to flip through as Landon settles into his bed after a nice long shower. 

"Are you thinking of marriage?" Landon asks since Jeremy's properly invested in Cecily's hobbies. Maybe he fucked Landon to get the aggression out so he could be gentle and sweet to her. Being used is enough of a offense for Landon to fuck up the order in Jeremy's life again, but he's too exhausted to bother.

Soon, this ends.

And he loses nothing

Jeremy doesn't startle visibly but Landon has noticed his tells over the course of the months they spent in a closer orbit. His eyes do all the expressions for him. The flickers, the slight tick of an eyelid or twitch of a brow and glancing away in avoidance or the different kinds of staring. The intensity of concentration because he's some war tactician.

A strategist that is smarter when it comes to breaking people and hunting. His surprise is a three second blank stare before he blinks.

"Marriage," his unreadable tone masks his confusion. He needs clarification for a proper response and he already has a select few chosen out in wait to be prompted out of him.

"With Cecy," Landon drawls. 

"I told you I'm not stalking her," Jeremy lies to his face.

"But you're fucking her," Landon states factually. Jeremy rests the manga, well, no he bounces it onto the table with how hard he slaps it down and stalks over to the bed.

Landon's crushed in an instant by his body dropping over him because Jeremy doesn't know how to hover, he slams and pins, and traps. So their chests are firmly squeezed together and his knees dig into Landon's thighs.

"Am I now?" Emotionless but his eyes are expressively furious.

"You're close."

"She's Anni's friend."

"You're in her room at night and cozying up with her at the clubs."

"I was gathering data. She's your childhood friend supposedly and has a photo album dedicated to you."

"Okay," Landon accepts this information gracefully.

"It's mine now."

"So she's over the crush."

Jeremy hums.

"Why would Cecy give it to you? Unless you stole it." Which is more likely.

Cecily wouldn't hand over pictures of Landon to anyone no matter their intentions.

"We bargained," Jeremy says. "Do you want to know how expensive it was?"

Landon snorts.

Eyelashes fluttering because he becoming tired. Jeremy's a weighted blanket, and his scent was a drug to his senses.

"Let me guess...join her book club."

All the manga is starting to make sense. Jeremy doesn't agree or disagree he rolls over to lay beside Landon but turns over again so they're crushed together yet able to breathe.

There's breakfast in the morning but only plated for Landon at the table.

The other Elites come out of their hideyholes to watch this bizarre turn of events. Usually they ordered food in but this was freshly cooked scrambled eggs, bacon and toast with sausages. Like cartoon characters they're lured in by the aroma but they don't get served anything as Landon eats, sipping morning tea on the side.

Ava's mouth is watering then she startles. 

Jeremy Volkov has seated himself near the head of the table. Not caring for the stares but everyone slowly files in to approach and give him their judgement.

Eli doesn't like Jeremy.

Creighton doesn't like Jeremy.

Remi doesn't like Jeremy.

Glyndon and Brandon are a little awkward with Jeremy but have the casualness of being used to his presence. Still without their boyfriends, they seem distrustful.

Ava hates Jeremy.

Cecily is the only one who seems to like him.

"Well?" Ava snaps. "Where's our food, Mr. Chef?" 

Landon takes another bite of eggs. Jeremy ignores Ava as he watches Landon eat.

Remi doesn't have any jokes, it's too early and he's moody. Nursing a hangover doesn't help. "Who fucked Volkov?" he demands since it's obvious he stayed over.

Landon pauses. Jeremy doesn't even blink, then out of self-righteousness in the stilted silence, Cecily says, "We had a sleepover."

No one buys that, not because it's coming from Cecily but rather sleepover. She gets looks of disbelief from just about everyone but Eli and Creigh.

"You guys fucked," Ava says incredulously then cheers with a Woohoo. Despite hating Jeremy. But she also shoots Landon a sort of commiserating look. He ignores it.

"No," Cecily stammers, blushing, but it's too late.

No one thinks anything about Landon's breakfast and assumes the tension is one of mutual hate--- which is true and they've seen the aftermath of Mia, so they don't suspect a thing. Landon's not grateful though by how the lie works so effectively despite the clear evidence disregarding it which means Jeremy and Cecily together is just that believable as a concept.

That implies they've seen enough of them together, too. Jeremy is just quiet as everyone bombards Cecily though it's Remi and Ava while Glyndon and Brandon are more gentle and laid-back in their curiosity.

Within a moment Landon's out of his seat, and silently walking out to his car.

Their little gossip session filtering out the front door. 

Automatically, he takes his car on a two hour long drive aimlessly and ignores his phone ringing and the notifications, treating it as whitenoise as he tries to find a place worthy enough to park his McLaren.

He ends up at a cliffside with the sun close to abandoning them to darkness, the stars starting to brighten up more. After getting out and padding over grass, he picks up rocks to collect then throws them down below to watch the crashing waves swallow them up before there's any real impact to cause a ripple.

A roaring bike doesn't startle him, but it creates a cacophony in the ambiance, so he turns in annoyance.

Jeremy takes off his helmet and shakes his hair out of his eyes. In a few long strides Jeremy's in his face, locking his wrists together so the rocks slip from his fingers and nuzzles his cheekbones like a lion.

"I told her about the Bratva so she's protecting our secret,"Jeremy murmurs.

"There's nothing to protect."

Then Landon remembers Jeremy still considers himself straight. Despite his acceptance of Nikolai's bisexuality he seems to be adamant that he possibly can't be. 

"I have some things to handle first," Jeremy says, not caring for his comment. "When it's over then...Cecily won't be our cover anymore."

"You're using her."

"She reads BL," Jeremy says like Landon's slow on the uptake.

Humans are complicated but he knew their functions enough to understand what would motivate them, as he provoked them into action or emotion. Sometimes both. Apparently those two things can be linked rather than interchangeable. 

So he doesn't understand what this has to do with why Cecily's apparently Jeremy's beard.

"I'm a god," Landon says, above human constructs. "I can fuck whoever I want without owing anyone a definite reason for my actions. I just do, because it feels good."

"Only me," Jeremy says vehemently. "No one else."

"That's not your decision."

Though there isn't anyone else.

No one impassioned him or made him run hot.

Or made him bleed---

A hand wraps around his throat tightly, fingers a bruising grip, and Jeremy doesn't ask.

Like a god, he does whatever the fuck he wants if it to his pleasure.

So he kisses Landon.

Shattering the last fragile wall between them.

He kisses angrily, tongue invading, teeth nipping his lips and chokes him throughout so he's struggling to breathe and becomes light-headed.

It's hatred and vengeance seared into his mouth.

And the violence is hot, burning Landon from the inside out.

Not a kiss, but utter destruction from a ruthless god.

With an epiphany that they need to breathe, Jeremy releases Landon, inhaling oxygen greedily but instead of swooping in for another kiss with that lazer focused gaze expressing desirable intent, Jeremy freezes, eyes wide, and mouth stupidly gaping.

Landon realizes a second too late why Jeremy's so comically shocked.

It's because Landon's smiling.

And he feels shy about it.

LOG REPORT

Here's the thing. 

I'm straight and I mean psychologically speaking. Sexuality is still a spectrum I'm only vaguely interested in, because I rely on my instincts and attraction is purely animal to me.

I have fucked around but it's conditional to my needs, while the effort I had to go through to get what I really wanted from him isn't anything I'd do for anyone else.

No woman or man.

So my lack of interest in other men is why I say I'm straight. I can talk to Niko about it, I can research further but I find it unnecessary.

I have him.

My person.

LOG REPORT

Cecily Knight knows more than anyone realizes.

The secrets of every core Elite because she's the one that is so naturally maternal they instinctively trust her. So I go over to her side and confide about my own childhood trauma. Immediately, I'm hers to care for which means I gain access to more data.

A certain tone and look, and she's quick to defend or scold me, or even provide me comfort.

I ask about her childhood, wanting to hear more about him since she's infatuated then it means she must prerserve some precious memories.

Opening up more and more. Letting me know secrets without realizing it.

Oh мой котенок.

She thinks you're misunderstood.

How cute you are in her stories...

LOG REPORT

Admittedly, I'm jealous.

I tried to steal her photo album, but she caught me since I couldn't break the lock soon enough. Instead of being embarassed I tell her the truth.

She laughed.

Disbelief.

But then her eyes glimmered.

And I let her think she's helping me.

LOG REPORT

They want me to marry an Italian heiress.

I told them I'm in love.

They send spies.

The reports won't have a single mention of him in it. 

LOG REPORT

Mia decided on her own to protect Cecily Knight without it being a favor.

But she loathes me and the reason we pretend so well is for Niko. We were never really close to begin with, and it was Maya who had the crush on me which made everything more complicated.

Niko can forgive certain betrayals but this wasn't really considered one. I'm protecting his sisters in a way he can understand and accept. Maya's crush was just a crush and I did nothing to tempt it so he never blamed me.

Nor for this either, yet he needed more time to come to terms with this.

Killian sat down and asked me 20 questions and I answered within 40 seconds. Some required more than one word. 

A test.

Niko and Kill understood right then and there why I did what I did, so our brotherhood is still strongly intact.

We're all monsters here. 

There's no calm, the storm comes to disrupt everyone's life without a peace treaty.

"Cecy's missing," Ava is crying. It's too early but that must mean it happened at a nightclub since Cecily is often the designated driver.

Landon's already working on it as he types on his phone.

The atmosphere is heavily morose because everyone's clueless in these circumstances, yet they look at him helplessly. 

"This is all Jeremy's fault," Ava cries more with Remi holding her in comfort, looking equal parts furious and distressed. 

Creigh is pissed off, his eyes darkening with that violent rage. 

Ava's right though so Landon sends a quick message to Jeremy since this is his responsibility. 

But as the leader, all the Elites belonged to Landon so he intends to find Cecily and give whoever kidnapped her under his nose utter hell. 

"Don't take a single step outside of the mansion. Call Eli if you need anything," he orders, expecting to be obeyed.

But Creigh pushes into his space. "I'm going with you," and Landon doesn't bother arguing since he might need the manpower. 

This was just another Thursday for Landon so he doesn't have any intense reactions and it isn't a fabricated composure either.

He's completely calm.

Nothing scares him, instead he's focused with his own plans formulating in mind, tapping his fingers over the steering wheel. 

Creigh doesn't bother with the seat belt, but that allows him to move around more restlessly and it becomes a distraction for Landon as he's driving.

"We'll find her," he says, following the GPS tracking Cecily's phone. Speeding up before he loses the signal. Whoever had her was trying to smuggle her off the island which causes him to floor it even harder.

Just another Thursday, he thinks as the world blurs and the engine revves loud enough to cause the whole car to shudder on it's tires.

There's no restlessness after that since Creigh clings to his seat for dear life.

Landon laughs so loudly it pops his own ears. 

The adrenaline only heightens his mania, an insanity for the chaos he wants to be a part of, because it means he'll be at the center of the vortex and everyone will be watching out for him. He'll save Cecily and everyone will remember it was him that did it and their gratitude will give him more power over them.

So he laughs on another Thursday. 

The road ahead is barricaded by black SUVS so Landon hits the brakes before a crash happens and the car skids to a stop with dust scattering around.

Creigh hurriedly opens the door and pukes on the ground with hacking coughs while Landon slides out of his seat and strolls over towards the suited men posted outside the vehicles. 

"Move," he commands because it's not a suggestion.

No one moves.

He smiles sharply and assesses them, wondering if they're part of the kidnapping buraeu.

But all of this for one woman.

How incompetent were they that they required a whole task force for a civilian?

"This one's mine."

The voice isn't loud but naturally confident and certain, with a dark undertone. Landon glances over as Jeremy walks out to meet him from where he's slipped between the vans, no tactial gear on, just in a black tee and jeans, but his waist is strapped with a gun and a pair of knives.

And all the suited men act as if they've been dismissed since as a group they march over to the end of the barricade, providing an illusion of privacy. Not once looking at Landon, even out of curiousity. Trained to be robots.

"Cecily's safe," Jeremy says, the epitome of relaxed, hands in his pockets. Like he isn't a commander of a battalion.

"She's coming back with me," Landon isn't arguing, but reading from a script.

Cecily is a cog in the machine for the Elites, so he needed to put her right back where she belonged so everyone will start working as they're supposed to. All the crying couldn't continue. It was ruining the mood.

He didn't want to deal with a pissed off Eli either. 

"I have her in a secure place while we root out the pests," Jeremy says.

"I want in," Landon says, right as Creigh storms up to them and punches Jeremy right in the face. And he doesn't seem like he'll stop just at that since he tries to rain more down on Jeremy during his moment of confusion.

"Creighton," it's Landon's very serious don't-fuck-with me-because-I'm-the-King tone and it works since his cousin's fist stops mid-air.

"Jeremy can't afford to lose any more of his dimunitive braincells for this operation to work."

And he thinks he's persuaded Creigh neatly enough since he scoffs- his version of a temper tantrum.

Then, he gazes back at Jeremy.

The punch had split Jeremy's bottom lip and his eyes are that pitched black demonic rage. 

Tension is about to erupt; outcomes play out in his mind.

A murderous Eli.

The blame directed at Landon.

The Elites finally having enough of him because he's the cause of all their suffering-- the ones they care about being hurt.

Uncle Aiden seeing him as a lost cause.

Landon can't believe he has to play a role he's not used to but it's nessecary for his own survival.

So, he steps in before Jeremy can land a single punch on his cousin, sure it would do worse than knock him out. He remembers their fight in the underground ring which had been different from the other ones where his anger had been at the forefront.

Jeremy isn't Nikolai in his anger.

He's worse.

Because he can control it. 

It won't be an animalistic fury but premeditated murder.

The heat from Jeremy's anger seems to cause his body to steam with his muscles bulging under his shirt, but his eyes are dark and calm as his brain plans out a crime scene.

Landon's shoulders raise upwards to shield his younger cousin and he tilts his chin up so he can stare down his nose imperviously.

"Hit me," he says.

They beat each other up all the time so it was hardly anything. Jeremy had choked him, put lethal weapons on his body, cut him up so he bled, and pulled the trigger of a blank gun, all of Landon's near death experiences no matter how false were Jeremy's doing, so his body doesn't tremble with any self-preservation instincts.

This punch will be one done and over with to sate Jeremy's prideful wrath, the need to get even.

Jeremy's eyes flicker; the darkness is still there but his gaze is a softer anger, not cooled but tempered differently. Landon's heart doesn't thump in fear, but skips a beat as they stare at one another, breath tightening in his throat.

There's an awareness in his conscience but he can't completely grasp onto it, so it slips away.

"Get him out of here," Jeremy says quietly. 

"We'll leave," Landon promises. "With Cecy."

"She's not on the island."

"Where is she?!"

Creigh shoves Landon out of the way so he slightly stumbles to the side, so he can get into Jeremy's face.

Which pisses Jeremy off since he grabs Creigh by the neck and looks ready to wrangle the life out of him as his grip crushes over his throat.

Landon stares for a second because all of his hard efforts has been undone.

"Creigh," he says with Aunt Elsa's tone of reprimand then realizes his cousin is the one bring strangled.

And tries again, "Jeremy--"

"Don't," Jeremy growls. 

"Release my cousin," he says.

Just another Thursday, he thinks as he approaches to save Creigh.

"I should kill him," Jeremy says coldly. "My sister and now he dares to touch what's mine---"

"Jer!!"

A dark haired man runs up to them, younger but naturally authoritative.

"What's the hold up?" A demand. Then he stares at the scene. And smiles politely. "Oh, Anni's boyfriend, hello." 

Landon giggles.

Everyone looks at him.

"It's a Thursday," he says with a crash down of adrenaline.

Vaughn stares at Landon skeptically without hiding it in the rear view mirror.

The younger man hasn't said much else yet, but he watches everything as if they're on TV for his entertainment, or a documentary he's gaining knowledge from.

He stares as if Landon belongs in a paranormal show.

Jeremy's behind the wheel as Landon sits in the middle of the backseat.

Creigh is grumpy squished near the door and can only stare out the window, because Landon has his legs spread out. Nosily, he stares at the car's setup because it isn't just a GPS system, it's Jeremy's hacking equipment on the console.

"Cecily's on another island," Jeremy explains. "Purchased explicity for this reason. In a safehouse being protected by my guards, but I have a decoy car with someone else dressed up as her inside. Professionally trained."

"Does she have grey hair?" Landon asks.

"A wig."

"So this is the life of dating a mafia prince, sounds overly dramatic and complicated," Landon says, delighted.

Vaughn snorts bitterly. "You have no idea."

Landon suddenly needs more info, so he slightly relaxes. "I have some idea. I've been dipping my toes in your world for a while. Ask a certain mafia princess."

"I have heard things about you, and you're typically the adversary," Vaughn says. But he eyes Landon differently like he's a newly discovered species.

"I'm a villain to mafia princes like you so you can blame me for some of the drama," Landon says, smiling. 

"Villain?" Vaughn scoffs, but good-naturedly. "From what I've seen I think you're one of those overly pampered cats---"

The car abruptly swerves sharply to the left. 

"I'm dropping you off at the cottage," Jeremy says curtly.

"I want in," Landon stubbornly insists.

"It's mafia work, so you'll get in the way of our formation."

Vaughn doesn't disagree but he stares at Jeremy for a long enough moment that would unsettle anyone else. 

"I need Cecy back," Landon says. Showing up empty handed is a mark of failure. And he won't receive any recognition for his efforts, something to bring up again if his friends and family tried to argue with him about anything. It's how he's kept most of them in line.

"This is Family business."

"Thought you didn't care for The Godfather and you're not even the Don." 

"Pakhan," Vaughn chimes in helpfully. Still watching them and comfortable about it as he leans back in his seat. 

Landon nods. "Vaughn's the real leader so I'll listen to him."

Because what he said is objectively true, Jeremy can't argue but he shoots Landon a dark look in the rear view mirror.

"There's going to be a clean out of important players," Vaughn says. "Business is handled on neutral grounds but the Correlis made the first move so we're hitting their suppliers. You're a chess genius, Landon, so maybe you can work with Jer on clearing out the board." 

Presumably the Bratva has their own network into checking people's backgrounds yet Landon was a public figure in retrospect, everyone knows he plays chess, so he's not bothered by that tidbit of information. 

Creigh's still here, no matter how quiet he is so Landon says carefully, "A little heavy handed for a kidnapping attempt." 

Jeremy speeds up.

Vaughn stares at Landon though without blinking. "This is the mafia world, so you'll have to get used to it."

And Landon stays silent.

But Creigh scoffs. His life has been affected by the mafia since he was a child, orphaned because of the Bratva even though his bio parents were evil, it's the fact that none of the members responsible cared for the consequences, they killed then moved on with no regards for the innocents left behind.

Twenty minutes later, Landon is dropped off with Creigh near the woods and Jeremy drives away like a rocketship blasting off into space.

"I should have driven my car," Landon says.

His McLaren was left for the Bratva to tow away if they wanted, worse it'll just sit there abandoned, and now they were stranded.

Well, the cottage was ten minutes away and since Creigh is still here he assumes Jeremy doesn't mind.

Somewhat resistant but not wanting to stick around out here, he leads his cousin down the trail, kicking at pebbles and twigs as dried leaves crunched under their feet.

"Cecy isn't a pawn for you guys to use," Creigh says quietly.

"I didn't do this," Landon says. He had used her before for infiltration, but she had come out of that dangerous mission remarkably unscathed. Cecily was tougher and trickier than the others were assuming, but that's why Landon relied on her when he needed some spying done. 

"You can be better than this but you choose not to."

"What?" Landon is confused.

Creigh has never done a heart to heart bonding sess with him, but it looks like he has to get something off his chest. Not quite anger, but close enough.

"I'm the one you tied up and forced into doing your bidding, so my opinion matters, Lan."

Landon laughs. Because there's no proper response, and he's not sorry about it.

"You're chaos personified, but complete annihilation isn't your memo, because it scares you to have no one else to use or give you any attention. Once the truth comes out you might not have anyone left."

"Oh, have me all figured out, you little tyke?"

"No. Not at all. But you're my cousin and I like to believe I know you enough."

This isn't them either. "We're not...Eli and Bran, so what the fuck are you doing?"

But Creigh's trying to be Bran, but that's also weirder than hell because Landon's Eli in this scenario due to being older. Brandon scolds Eli and Landon when they're sniping at one another but they never take him seriously.

Landon sighs as the cottage comes into view. "What truth? I've been quite magnanimous with you lot."

"I refuse to believe you're this dense." 

Instead of accusing Landon of playing dumb, he goes straight for thinking Landon's ignorant. 

"There's only a month left," Landon says coldly. "You won't have me here anymore to find solutions to your crises, and you can blame me for some of them, but who's going to respect the Elites when I'm gone?"

"I'm talking about you, and Jeremy but everyone thinks you're fighting over Cecy instead of fucking each other. But I know, and Anni knows. Cecy's protecting you guys."

"I don't need protection," Landon says as he tries to catch onto everything else. Mia is never brought up in front of him, and they all know Cecily had a crush on him, but instead of rooting for Jeremy they probably believed Cecily deserved better than a mafia prince. Obviously not his own siblings who constantly warn people about him.

No wonder Ava hates Jeremy so much. It's literally about choosing sides in an imaginary love triangle.

But Landon hasn't noticed any of this. Because none of it had been part of his machinations. His family aren't absolute morons so there's enough evidence to suggest this is the case, but he hadn't implanted any, nor did he perform that role. Unless their brains were forced to fill in the blanks and Jeremy and Landon trying to kill one another made more sense than them fucking.

Which is true.

When they fucked there's some violence in it. They fought while fucking but the bruises from their actual fights turned Jeremy into a large feline. Nuzzling all over, as if to soothe away the ache or possessively claiming them.

Stepping onto the porch to the cottage, Landon is still shifting through his memory bank for any inclination of his apparent inclusion in a love drama.

Love isn't for him, and they all know this.

Creigh sighs. "I'll text Remi to pick us up."

But Landon finds the spare key under the doormat to unlock the door even as Creigh walks back out to wait near the road with his location on.

For some reason he had followed Landon and wasted his own time doing so. 

There's clay in the cottage so Landon sculpts. He hadn't brought his art supplies here but Jeremy is practical and stocks up on all that's needed. So he sculpts in the seating area that only has one couch, so it's an open floor, and gets lost in his own head.

Worrying about Jeremy isn't a concept.

Jeremy knows what he's doing.

He's not alone either.

He has Vaughn. And all those guards

Possibly other Heathens, too.

This whole operation is to protect Cecily.

Jeremy would go to war for her.

Eliminate an entire family.

In the mafia world cleaning house was the same as pest control.

Clay spins, and spins, and hours later he grows affectionate of the misshapen sculpture.

"Cecy's safe and sound," Brandon calls to tell him a few days later.

No longer Thursday but some other day of the week that eludes Landon.

There's an expectant pause.

But Landon only hums.

"She was distressed but mostly exhausted, so Ava made her some hot chocolate, and turned on the TV to get her mind off the stressful events." 

Landon hums again.

"A real sleepover for the girls while we, the guys, cooked a comfort dinner... rather poorly."

Comfort dinner meant stew.

Eli probably burnt water or lost his shit over Remi getting in the way, because he finds Remi irritating in long doses. Creigh probably managed to save the day while Brandon pretended to be busy but also genuinely scolding Eli and Remi for their obstruction in the kitchen. He can vividly imagine it as some comedic play on stage.

Another expectant pause.

"Are you sculpting?"

Brandon's more attuned to Landon than ever.

Landon hums as his hands carve.

"That's great. Everything's fine over here. Your McLaren is parked outside too."

Landon hums more pleasantly.

"....Cecy was with...."

"Jeremy," Landon completes the silence. His heart thumping in his chest. He's impatient and needs Jeremy returned to him.

Brandon doesn't say anything.

He just breathes. Landon listens as his hands move in accordance.

"There's a bottle of vodka and whiskey in my room if you need it," he says, and promptly hangs up with his phone dropping to the floor with a thud.

Because there's a shift in the air.

Heavily smelling of cleaning bleach instead of anything intoxiciating so Landon's nose crinkles.

Jeremy doesn't try to be subtle, he walks in noisily and throws his stuff over on the couch and undresses by ripping off his clothes with no restraint.

"Hey, baby," he says in a very thin voice. And his weight drops onto the couch.

After a blink, Landon turns. 

Jeremy's only in his boxers, and his arms crossed over his face as he lays there, body shuddering slightly as he breathes. Landon tries to get close, on instinct he was drawn towards that body and the heat of him, but Jeremy tenses up; without looking, he curls his fingers in the air, a loose fist.

A hand signal.

Not universal, but in this moment it's understood. 

Stop.

A warning.

Landon's gaze sweeps over Jeremy again, now noticing the differences. This is what an animal after a kill looked like, and Landon was in his space after the high of savagery, so he takes cautious steps to pick up his phone.

Unsure of what to do since he's never been good at taking care of any animal, but he assumes Jeremy would want to be alone in this state, so he walks towards the door with reluctance. HIs brows furrow at his own lack of intuition in this situation. Jeremy isn't a wounded animal so he's not vulnerable and besides his old scars there doesn't seem to be anything to tend to. But Landon wishes there was something physical to fix so he would have a reason to touch him.

Not sexually.

But a comfort.

Not for Jeremy, for himself so he can get rid of this tight emotion in his chest.

"Where you goin'?"

"Home."

"Stay," Jeremy says, looking at him from underneath his crossed forearms.

His eyes were flat, devoid of light, but intently focused.

Landon swallows, fingers twitching. But Jeremy isn't clay so he can't reshape him and mend this error. This is internal. A warm-blooded problem. A human vulnerabilty. Landon has been vulnerable with Jeremy and the man never took advantage or weaponized Landon's weaknesses beyond their private game.

"What do you need?" He's frustrated with himself so it comes out harsh, uncontrollably. "Do you require sustenance?" 

Jeremy stares.

His mouth turns lopsided.

A smirk, Landon thinks at first and is ready to throw his phone in Jeremy's face for mocking him, but he notices the soft transformation. His fingers twitch again, wanting to steal that expression off his face and lock it away forever so no one else sees. It's already engraved in Landon's memory for safekeeping.

"Yeah," Jeremy says hoarsely. His body is still tense and his eyes aren't fully warm but Landon rushes to provide. He walks around like he owns the place, comfortably grabbing what he required, the glass from the cabinet to pour the nearly empty vodka bottle into and he sets that near the couch without disturbing Jeremy then heads back to the kitchen, gathering the ingredients to cook up something hearty. 

Fifteen minutes later he has crispy eggs and charred bacon, and sausages cooked on the stove. He plates the food with a frown. Then meanders back, definitely not taking his time on purpose. Jeremy's seated up, the glass empty in his hand, and he stares.

Landon's shoulders remain straight and upright as he hands over the food. If he had looked up how to cook this then he would have gotten it extremely perfect. Jeremy holds the plate in his destructive hands, and stares some more, head lowered so Landon can't see his face.

"I thought...you were going to order somethin' in," his voice is unreadable.

"What do you want?" Landon asks, feeling horrible. Frustrated with himself and his eyes prick from the intensity of this tight emotion. His face burns too. His phone is back in his hand as he pulls up the food delivery app. 

"For you to feed me," Jeremy says. 

Landon hums, ordering from three different restaurants. Thai, Indian and American. But Jeremy tugs him in by the waist. And he falls onto his lap. The man's a hot iron and Landon can't move. His body is locked up, uncomfortably stiff.

"Are you crying?" Jeremy asks so angrily.

"No," Landon snaps but his voice breaks. 

Jeremy sets Landon over his thighs, and reaches up to pinch his chin to bring closer to him.  "Are you scared?"

"No," he says firmly. Confused and then frustrated all over again. None of this made sense. He should be home, in his bed. Not with this killer. Definitely not being so quick to lower his defenses. Now he's trapped. 

"You are." Jeremy sounds angry but in that deathly quiet way.

"I'm not scared of you," Landon says in a clipped voice. "I've let you do things to me."

"You're trembling," Jeremy says but he holds onto Landon more tightly. Not keen on letting him escape even if he was genuinely scared. "My instincts after I complete a mission require a reset. I'm never going to have any murderous intent directed at you. It was just a lot more to handle than usual, I'm not always like that." 

"I don't care," Landon says, frustrated. Everything is too hot, but not in a pleasurable way. He drops his phone and tries to retrieve it as some lifeline but Jeremy's arms wrangle him back in place. "Jeremy! I can't reach my phone!"

"I thought you were being all sweet for me, cooking me a homemade meal but you want to run off after giving me what I want. Well, I'm not done with you."

Jeremy hugs him.

And Landon's breathless, literally. 

"I'm full watching you and having you close. I'll never grow hungry when you're around."

"Just eat the actual food, Jeremy," Landon says, drained.

"Feed me."

The arms loosen around Landon. For a moment he's frozen, then reaches out for the plate and sets it carefully upon his lap. He stabs through the eggs with a fork, and his hands shake. But he turns slightly to feed Jeremy.

Jeremy eats the egg, but watches him. Then he takes the fork from Landon's fingers and stabs a sausage."You need to eat, baby," he says, expression never changing but his voice is gentle. And he feeds Landon, but he only hesitantly bites some of the meat to chew.

It's not distasteful, slightly overcooked so it's dry but he's never been picky, however Jeremy eats whatever Landon doesn't finish with lighter brows. While in this state, he's still the one taking care of Landon, which causes his face to burn with shame. But Jeremy expects to be fed so he takes the fork back and perfectly completes his directive. 

Jeremy watches his face intently throughout but Landon ignores him even as his heart thumps erractically and his skin prickles with discomfort.

Landon is used to being gazed at however Jeremy's intensity is a force of it's own, heated and dark. 

After the meager food is gone, Landon is able to get up. He dumps the plate and glass into the sink. Washes his hand then walks back for his phone but Jeremy's holding it. And it's unlocked as he casually invades Landon's privacy.

"Did Brandon update you on Cecily?" Jeremy asks tonelessly.

"Yeah." He walks back to his sculpture since his hands need something to do.

"Is that why you're so upset?"

"No."

Confused by the correlation, but he's too tried to find any reasoning and he's so inept with human behavior and emotions anyway. His hands are harsher with the clay.

A long pause ensues, seemingly Jeremy's sorting through whatever analysis he's perceiving. 

"I canceled the orders," he says, back to casual.

Landon hums.

"Were you crying for me?"

"I wasn't crying."

"Not scared either. So then what?" He speaks efficiently in a firm expectant way. It's familiar but Jeremy's tone is rougher with a slight twang accent.

It works on Landon somehow or he's just exhausted.

"I don't know," he admits.

The sculpture spins faster and his eyes prick. 

"Is it your emotional regulation?" Jeremy says. "You tend to have meltdowns from bottling everything up and you seem confused whenever it happens."

"I don't want to be psychoanalyzed."

Carefully, he molds over parts he had been so cruel with, a comfort to his beloved creation but not an apology because he's allowed to be ruthless whenever he wants. But his chest aches. 

"I want to know if I did anything wrong to set you off." 

The truth comes out too easily. "I was insufficiently able to properly provide for you."

His shame grows.

His shoulders curl inwards.

There's a wiring in his brain that's able to perceive people completely, but he'll never truly know them. Their functions are a skeleton without a soul, and the emotions made them alive and interesting and vulnerable. If not confusing, but he's never felt ignorant and inadequate. He was still superior in all other aspects.

"Provide?" Jeremy's unreadable again.

"It's all I know how to do, but it didn't make you feel any better."

"You wanted to make me feel better." It's not disbelief but his tone is pitched differently. 

Landon shrugs. "Like you do for me. A conditional exchange." 

When Jeremy gets up, he tenses but instead of approaching, Jeremy heads over to the bathroom. And in moments, the water starts running.

Landon's hands move more purposefully but he's too aware of Jeremy even being several meters away to fully enter his mental landscape.

But he still loses track of time listening to the shower.

Another shift in the air.

This time bergamot floods his senses.

"What I do isn't conditional," Jeremy says lowly. "Because it feels good to take care of what's mine."

Landon swallows. His hands moving more fervently. "What do you see?" He asks somewhat shakily.

"Self-destruction,"Jeremy says, so sure of himself. 

Stunned, Landon can only move on autopilot while he's falling into the earth's core.

"The expressions are melting into one another," Jeremy observes further. "And the body belongs to two different people fused into one."

Landon gulps. "Does it look horrifyingly grotesque?"

"No, it's beautiful."

Eventually, he feels him, a body covering up his back, feet on either side of his, a chin resting upon his shoulder and hands reaching out to settle over his and he realizes he's gone completely still.

But Jeremy simply moves his limbs like he's a puppet, enfolding Landon against his chest while controlling the sculpting tempo. 

"Your hands will make anything perfect even if I guided you," Jeremy says. It's the most poetic thing he's ever said but his voice is deep and husky, full of dark promise.

Landon doesn't hate this. Anger doesn't overide his emotions instead he leans back, cock fully hard in his sweats--Jeremy's sweats, because he's been living in his cottage without him, using his soap and shampoo and sleeping in his bed, smelling entirely like him. Landon lets Jeremy use his hands to sculpt to his preferences, while chasing an orgasm untouched, humping the air, and grinding his arse back.

"мой котенок," Jeremy laughs. A rusty but deeply enchanting sound. "Seeing you kiss your statues makes me wonder if you ever fucked one." He nips at Landon's ear, licking the shell.

For a bizarre moment Landon feels possessed. As if he's doing all of this to himself since he's the dangerous one in the dark as he touches his statues seductively with faint arousal while luring in more innocents closer to his side. He thinks of Mia, but being in her place instead.

The things he's tempted her with are now done to him.

How he had been huge next to her delicate body so he could shatter her if he wanted to.

But Jeremy's taken his role from him as Landon becomes his to toy with, an object of his desire.

A hitched breath. Sweat beading down his hairline as blood flushes to his face. "Jeremy," he says, "Jeremy."

"Yeah, baby," Jeremy is patient but cruel for not understanding. He wants Landon to beg.

Resentfully Landon kicks down the sculpture, not caring for it in the least as it falls, mercilessly cast out by it's creator, but he's pleased that Jeremy's hands are now free. "Touch me," he doesn't beg. But he squirms in need.

"Jealous?" Jeremy doesn't sound amused but darkly vindictive. "You're the only one I want to fuck, baby."

"Do it," Landon dares. Jeremy's hands squeeze over his chest and he gropes but Landon doesn't correct him, because it feels good. The circular motions over his pebbled nipples and the pinching and his hips buck upwards. 

"What next?" Jeremy muses, but his other hand is down there slapping over Landon's cock, and it jumps at the contact. "Your dick is big and pretty," he states as a fact. "I want you seated on my own dick for hours while I play with yours, whenever I'm bored I'll slap it around or pet it " 

Landon lets out a pitched noise. And nods fervently. Jeremy chuckles darkly into his ear, "When you're sculpting, I'll just use you whenever I want, ram my dick inside your hole or suck your gorgeous dick. And here's the catch, you'll continue using your hands without acknowledging me but you'll react to my dick and my mouth."

A shudder passes through Landon's entire body, tongue swiping out to moisturize his dry lips. He nods again. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he agrees.

"God, you're perfect," Jeremy swears vehemently. Landon already knew that but he releases a keening noise at the praise, neck arched back and flushed. And Jeremy's hand settles around it, as his other squeezes his dick, and jerks him off through the material of his sweats urgently until Landon cums breathlessly inside of his boxers while being held. Thinking of the dark promises that will one day come into fruition.

"What is love?" 

"Jeremy."

"Jeremy?"

"I...I don't know about the future," Landon says after one such fucking that has him shattered and weak, unable to stop the words from coming out.

He feels exposed. But Jeremy has seen all of him anyway.

The words come out when Jeremy's left him a trembling, exhausted mess on the bed in his cottage.

"The future?" Jeremy prompts  

"After we're done here. This island isn't forever."

The wild sex isn't going to last. One day they'll move on with their own lives. 

Jeremy hadn't said anything, but it could have been the catalyst for the wedding band around his finger a mere week afterward.

And Landon doesn't object to this nonsense.

Marriage hasn't been anything he ever daydreamed about, but he had wondered if he needed to one day start his own family to be a proper King, to be utterly perfect in this regard too. Politicians had families and they weren't neccesarily loving people, it was all a facade to gain support and relatabitity.  

And Landon was great at facades  

This marriage became another facade to master for him. 

No wedding photos. 

No guests. 

Only an official witness. 

It went against everything Landon wanted. But he tells himself it's not love so that's why they can't have a public wedding with hundreds of people and the press watching their every move. And Jeremy was mafia. He probably wanted to keep his sexuality lowkey since he was moonlighting as a straight man. He's not straight. He fucks Landon and fondles his cock and sucks it so he can't pretend otherwise. 

Landon has unapologetic sex yet he wouldn't shag someone and marry them just to keep them from sleeping with other people. Mafia men were possessive, and while they did whatever the fuck they wanted people that belonged to them couldn't.

The manor that Jeremy purchases for them is in New York and looks like a haunted house. Similar to Landon's burned down private art studio yet he takes to it instantly without complicated feelings. Pretends it's a wedding gift and doesn't expect to see Jeremy often, only for whatever pleasure he wanted. 

Landon doesn't realize he's like Persephone. Life uprooted and abducted and taken to the underworld until his dad finds him. 

Searching wildly. 

"Stockholm Syndrome," his dad accuses. 

Jeremy comes back to them fighting. Gun out and seeming like he would pull the trigger before Landon instinctively blocks his dad. Angrily he shouts, "What the fuck, Jeremy?!" 

"I heard someone else," Jeremy isn't sorry about it as he shrugs and straps his gun back to his holster. But Landon's heart is too frantic. 

Levi King's impression of Jeremy isn't good at all. He expects, and assumes the worst. Thinks that Landon has been brainwashed and captive. "Look at yourself, son," he says, begs. "This isn't you." Hidden away. 

A retreat, Landon lies. He's good at this when it comes to his dad.

Levi tells him to go back to London with him, clearly testing him. Jeremy's the one that speaks up, "Sure, let's go. I always wanted to meet my husband's parents officially."

Landon stares. 

Jeremy is smiling in dark satisfaction while Levi looks like he'll have a heart attack on the spot. 

Family dinners aren't usually this tense. Everyone's there with their partners. 

Grandpa Jonathan and Uncle Aiden are there to intimidate, Annika sits with Creighton but the wide eyes full of panic is for her brother since she had just gotten accepted into the family. And it might all come crashing down on her head if Jeremy gets on everyone's bad side.

Levi King is Zeus staring at Jeremy with lightening bolts in his eyes while the man behaves unaffected. 

Astrid Clifford King looks at Landon and Jeremy like she's trying to puzzle them out. But it's Nikolai who actually seems befuddled as he stares at Jeremy for a long moment, and then he gets up with an excuse but not so sublty drags Jeremy out of his seat to talk to him privately on their excursion to the restroom together. 

This leaves Landon with a minefield. 

Brandon tries to be supportive but seems unsure. Glyndon has never known what to do with him since their relationship is distant. The Little Princess has gotten it into her head that Landon doesn't care about her but he's not sure how to display that he does without her being scared or more resentful of him. So he avoids her and the mushiness wasn't on brand for him anyway.

But they're a united front for once. 

Possibly because of their own partners. Glyndon has Killian by her side after all.

"So," she says bravely into the silence. "This is unexpected."

"You were missing for half a year with that mafia punk!" Is what Levi King says banging his fist onto the table, not caring for etiquette. He's the King right now. 

Glyndon deflates in her seat. Killian whispers coaxingly in her ear while rubbing her shoulder. 

"I texted..." Landon says, not sure what this chill in his blood is. Not murderous intent. He's familiar with that.

But something worse.

His insides shrivel up and he can't look his father in the eyes. 

"Updates that say, Hey, yours truly is still alive and then no responses to any of the texts I send nor do you pick up our phone calls."

"I will do so next time, Dad, I was caught up in the city."

It isn't even an excuse, but the truth. Exploring the city thoroughly so he was familar with what it had to offer and even the pedesterians were an adjustment to his brain since he was a foreigner.

And it was the first time he's ever been to New York. It was chaotic everyday which he should have liked, but it was a sensory overload if he stayed too long in one place.

"I'm willing to overlook certain traits but that man isn't good."

Landon glances around, expecting someone to laugh at how utterly ridiculous that sounded but even Killian doesn't rise to Jeremy's defense seemingly not wanting to draw attention to his own unfavorable traits.

"It's me, Dad," Landon says simply as an explanation. He fought all his own battles since he first adapted to the real world. And he didn't need the protection.

"I spent five minutes with you before he came in with a gun aimed at me."

The silence is tensed afterwards, and Killian shrinks in his seat and this time it's Glyndon shielding him by scooting up nearly over his lap. But everyone's looking at Landon.

"Well...you came by unannouced so his instincts reacted...but he wouldn't have killed you."

"But you let me in," Levi says. "I was a guest in your home and if you hadn't jumped in the way he would have shot me."

Landon's mouth opens then shuts.

Annika starts gulping down water. Creigh's hand rubbing on her lower back. But he has that I-told-you-so look on his face. Unwarranted. Since he hasn't told Landon shite nor was it his place.

"Are you allowed vistors?" Uncle Aiden asks.

"Yes," Landon says shortly because he was losing the thread. 

"And they would be corpses within minutes because apparently he doesn't trust you with anyone." 

Ringing silence.

Discomfort on Annika's face but she can't defend her brother. Killian's acting like this has nothing to do with him, but his fingers are twirling a fork restlessly as he leans into Glyn, eyes downcast. Brandon's glancing over repeatedly at where Nikolai and Jeremy had left.

"Uncle Aiden," Landon finally says. "That's rather gauche. We're here to eat, not roleplay the Arthurian tragedy. Fortunately this isn't the Round Table either. I mean that would make Grandpa Jonathan Merlin." He laughs. 

No one says anything or reacts. 

Eli doesn't join in. Usually they're swords clashing. 

But he realizes that was his weakest, most desperate attempt at a joke. Shoddily put together by fragmented knowledge. 

"Do you love him?" His mum asks with a need to support him. 

It's the question that can save this disastrous dinner from turning worse, but Landon hates that it's the one that involves feelings. 

Lying is so easy, and he's done it so many times effortlessly to everyone that's sitting here. There's never any guilt either, because he blends in for them, hiding the darkness that can't be seen. 

But they're all staring with complicated gazes. 

Expecting the worst.

"That's private," Landon says, about to explode.

Trembling, he scoots back his chair, and walks out. 

The family dinner is a mess.

He won't be repeating that again. 

Jeremy walks out to join him minutes later in the driveway of the mansion. Looking like he had been put in the wringer too, but physically unharmed, only his eyes are tight around the corners.

"Are you pleased with yourself?" Landon chokes out. Aware that it's partially his fault for concealing this marriage but he's never been in this position before, so heavily unfavored. There's an expectation when it concerned being an eldest and he had failed. Even Eli had seemed so disapppointed at who was considered his rival for their King legacy. 

Instead of consoling him the way Nikolai and Killian would have for his siblings, not that he required any of the comfort, Jeremy releases a deep irritated sigh, but stalks back inside, leaving Landon to unravel alone. 

It's not until ten minutes later when Jeremy's back out with coal black eyes that Landon realizes he's angry  

"I don't need approval," Jeremy says in a smoky voice. "Let's head home."

Landon glances back but no one else comes out so he leaves with Jeremy with no family dinners marked on their future schedules. 

Jeremy and Landon are now public though it's not broadcasted to the entire world since Landon doesn't post about it on his Instagram, or anything, but the Kings are openly hostile, so Landon slyly tries to amend that by posting pictures of his own contentment.

In the streets of New York, at art exhibits, at a skate park with a group of teenagers he had argued with over art expression since they had their spray cans out in the open. Jeremy trails behind and watches--no assesses, the way Landon interacts with people and how he's acclimated.

New York isn't London, but the weather is close enough, it's not too hot or humid at least which is bad for his hair, and there's snow in winter.

Then Jeremy blows everything out of the water when they're attending an auction because Landon put up his own set of statues, wanting to establish himself amongst a newer echelon.

He's branded to the masses as King and elects to not acknowledge Jeremy hacking into government files just to change his name on the marriage certificate. Jeremy can only claim him privately anyway.

Well groomed and prepared since he was a toddler to master all sorts of politics with six languages he can fluently speak, he considers this all a rather low risk challenge. But it's entertainment nonetheless to see new faces and play around with them.

The event is held on a Friday night on a small stage in a ballroom, occupied by round tables for each assigned group, and the auction money is for charity.

Champagne flutes are served and conversations flow along with falsetto laughs under disco lights. 

The local socialites know him as Old Money, but he's still considered a foreigner, a tourist, so they'll swim around him like piranhas with bully attitudes.

Nothing he can't handle, but then Jeremy ruins Landon's plan by betting on everything whenever his statue is displayed.

"Mr. Volkov," an older woman with a red perm giggles falsely. "Won't you spare us one of these masterpieces?"

"Bet higher," Jeremy says coldly without providing any further acknowlegement. Even ignoring the insistent tug of Landon's two fingers on his pants under the table.

How was he going to establish a connection if Jeremy scared everyone off? 

"So this sculptor is your boytoy," a man outright says. A swarmy grin on his young haughty face, and bleached blonde hair reflecting the lights. Not caring to address Landon directly. "Mind lending him out to me for a ride? Accent's doing it for me and the pretty blue eyes."

Jeremy goes completely still with his face closing off, and Landon sits back and lets it happen.

A subtle flick of a finger and a guard approaches the man, asking him discretely to step outside. The man foolishly does, so arrogant as he huffs and stands up, winking at Landon like they're sharing a secret, then later after a few long seconds Jeremy smoothly gets up and follows without needing to provide an excuse.

But everyone knows what's happening outside as the auction continues.

Landon is stared at sharply by people, a new sort of consideration and interest since Jeremy's background is one of those unspoken secrets.

A Bratva heir.

An heir to a shareholder at V Corp. 

Dangerous and powerful with an old money elite as a companion. 

He offers a charming smile. "Well, if you ever required any sort of handling for certain folk, feel free to book an appointment with my thorough provider, V Corp. There's a proper investment in protecting their clients."

Not that much of a lie since V Corp did provide bodyguard services with their trained men as one of a smaller operation for their company fronts. It was a way to earn promotion too.

"Free of charge for my husband," Jeremy seems fit to announce over his head as he returns with slightly busted knuckles. Sitting back in his seat gracefully with a blank look on his face, and ignoring the stilted pause, he turns to Landon, places a finger under his chin to pull him over for a chaste kiss.

"Husband?"

"Then it's hardly fair for you to particpate in this auction!" A squawk. "A redo! I want that faun for my garden!" 

"We can discuss this further outside if you want,"Jeremy says casually which shuts the poor woman up while earning some forced chuckles. People stare but don't bother Jeremy and Landon again which is a reprive because Landon is still inwardly reeling from the public claim.

The afterparty exclusive is spent with Jeremy glaring at anyone who stares too long as they make rounds while Landon sips more wine than he should but he needed a reason for the way he felt overheated. He is able to collect some new pawns, but what to do with them will be decided on a later date.

Though simply stringing them along is also fun, their overexagerated reactions and eagerness amuse him.

When two hours have gone by, only a little tipsy and back at home sweet home, Landon says, "That went well. Now they all know we're married. Have fun explaining that to your parents." It's a little snide remark but there's a warm glow in his chest he won't ever share. 

"I won't need to," Jeremy says, taking off his blazer for him. "They're coming over on Wednesday."

"Should we get a divorce before then?" Landon is only half joking about it but he's a little alarmed too. A Bratva man knows his son is married to a man, and the ramifications of that will include Landon and possibly his own family caught in the crossfire. This whole marriage hadn't really been thought through, just an impulsive whim of two men who were sexually compatible.

"There's no such thing as divorce in the Bratva."

"Openly marrying a man isn't usually allowed either in the Bratva so it should be a piece of cake to break tradition a little."

Jeremy is quiet. Then with a sullen, almost sulking look on his face, he says, "When my parents come over, don't bring that up." Like they're a couple having a spat and worrying about in laws. Jeremy is the one who ruined their peace first. 

Though it was a fake one. An illusion because the real world still existed outside of their bubble. 

"Bring what up exactly? That I'm a man? Because trust me they'll know." 

Jeremy yanks him in closer by the neck, fingers tightening with a light pressure but the heated brand over the bob of his throat and around his nape had his mouth dry and cock half-hard. 

"All they need to know is that you're mine. The complications will be dealt with on my own because no one's touching you when every drop of blood in your body belongs to me." 

"Is that any way to speak to your husband, you wild beast," Landon says in a slighty raised voice with flushed ears. "I'm capable of protecting myself."

"But you're still mine," Jeremy doesn't soften for him, but he does fuck him the way he wants without him needing to be explicitly clear with his desires. He knows how to pleasure Landon extremely well, and the kisses steal his breath away so his chest is slightly aching, yet resuscitate him in the same instance.

On the bed, they tumble together, although they're grinding against one another, and Jeremy's cock is inside of him, filling him to the brim, it's not as heated as their kisses. 

Or the way Jeremy stares at him.

Lia Volkov is so beautiful that Landon's mouth runs off before his brain even computes it.  

"I see where my Jeremy gets his looks from."

Silence.

Pin drop. 

Jeremy staring at the side of his face with a burning intensity but Landon doesn't realize what he's just said until Lia giggles mirthfully, delighted shock in her dark eyes. 

"Really? Everyone likes to say he takes after Adrian."

The man hovers by his wife's shoulder protectively or possessively, and the moment they make eye contact Landon realizes his massive error. 

"I think of genetics as a form of art," Landon fixes. Not sure why he's trying when Jeremy didn't even bother with the Kings. 

But he has manners. And his upbinging demands he treats his guests appropriately. He's still working up the charm a little too slyly. And looking for weakspots in their armors to collect for future exploitation because he can't suppress his nature completely. He needed to be the smartest, and most invulnerable person in the room. 

"Your eyes are the same shape and the delicate structure of his bones are yours and the brutal sides and intensity are surely his father's but together it creates what is ultimately it's own beautiful masterpiece."

A staticky silence since Landon can hear his own blood roaring in his ears. 

Wide eyes from Lia and a darkly amused look from Adrian as he arches a brow.  

And that's where Jeremy got his expressions from.

He stares in fascination, gaze roving over Adrian Volkov's face and something in his chest blossoms, dark and strangely affectionate, with the need to break him down, and rearrange him so he looks more like Jeremy instead, because he wouldn't mind two of them, but hands heavily land on his shoulders. 

It's not jarring, but it breaks the trancelike state that he's in before he's forcibly turned around and Jeremy's staring at him intensely. 

So much of everything swirling in his grey eyes so they're pitched black. 

Desire. 

Jealousy. 

Possessiveness. 

All the warning that Landon has before Jeremy's mouth crashes onto his. 

Kissing him right there in front of his parents because he's a rude mannerless heathen. 

Not tender or chaste but savagely and Landon's swept into it before pushing a hand between their chests and shoving Jeremy back. 

His head feels hot.

Mind blank. And he's breathless.

Thinking is his forte, studying people and objects was part of his hobby but he can't quite look at himself from this angle to masterfully deduce what the fuck he looks like standing there. Or understand the emotions slipping over his face because he can't hold them back.

Too much and it's overwhelming.

The silence is shattered by heavy breathing and Landon's not able to look at the Volkovs.  

"There's tea in the drawing room," he says curtly and evades the stares and the silence as he walks out the backdoor instead.

Humiliation. 

Not only in front of his own family but also Jeremy's.

It makes Landon want to scream but he settles for smoking on the bench. 

It's rude but Jeremy didn't give a fuck about etiquette so why should he? 

Smoke billows from his mouth as he stares at the clouds. A few minutes later, he senses another presence, and says, "Get the fuck back inside and leave me alone."

He's tired of Jeremy. 

Wanting to strangle him was an instinct he has to tamper down on. 

"I dearly hope you're not talking to me," Not Jeremy says. 

"I don't want to talk to you either," Landon says rudely, not allowing himself to feel pressured.

He's a King.

Landon's also fucking a devil almost every day and night and trusting him with his body as they sleep next to each other,  so he can handle other murderers.

Not that he wanted to spend a second more in Adrian's presence regardless.

He's too pissed off at Jeremy. 

Lia Volkov gave birth to a fucking devil. 

Smoothly Adrian sits down next to him with the grace of someone that's willingly made himself a nuisance. "You were so charming a moment ago," he says as sly as a devil.

Great the whole male lineage in this family had devil genes. 

"Your wife is beautiful," Landon says. "It made me want to lure her to my side." 

"It seems you're more attracted to me than my wife," Adrian says like it's a fact.

"I want to break you into pieces so I can use your leftover parts to create an inferior but acceptable version of your son," Landon says just as factually with a glance over at the man. 

Adrian stares at Landon with that analytical gaze that Jeremy has. Their expressions really are the same, but Jeremy's eyes are softer, and his mouth is more appealing because it's lonely and wantonly asking to be ruined. 

"Your home has character," Adrian says. "My son is a man of necessity, and rather a minimalist when it comes to his desires." 

"Are you calling me a gold digger? Because I'm richer than you," Landon says. 

A practiced chuckle leaves Adrian.

The man is not easily amused. He's directing Landon somewhere and wants answers.

"There's effort," he says, trying a different tactic. Blunt force. "In happiness. You can fall or retreat. But be prideful about it. Masking any semblance of your vulnerability will lead to more obstacles than you can imagine and the happiness becomes an illusion covering up the darkness you're living in." 

"I'm a psychopath," Landon says causally with an exhale of smoke. "I don't know what you're implying. I have my own worldview and I'm not changing it for anyone. People in my life are my possessions and my pawns; they're meant to cater to my whims, but the moment I find them stepping out of line I fix it and remind them of their roles. The purpose I give people align with how I categorize them. Your son is an enemy, and remains as such."

The silence is one of thoughtfulness. Adrian let's his words sink in. "Yet you followed his whims and his desires." 

Landon bites down on his cigarette. Never has he been a follower of anyone in his life. That leaves his actions up to interpretation but he's not willing to face any of that, not because he's afraid but he doesn't want to wound up disappointed.

The feeling is akin to a god discovering they're mortal because their divinity can be stolen from them within a snap of a finger.

And unbidden, Eros comes to mind. 

Love is an ancient force of nature, and there are many forms that exist, but Landon doesn't know how to feel any pure emotions, so he assumes the selfish desire and dark affection in his chest isn't love.

His parents don't love like this, and his siblings don't love like this, in fact Landon's love, if that's what he has to call it so it has a name, it pushes people away, because it's too much, too cruel. Too self-centered because if he's not feeling good or earning anything from it then what's the point of loving anyone? 

Love is conditional and he's learned that when he realized he needed to strive harder to be his parents' favorite golden boy, because they couldn't accept him as he was. To love is to change and he doesn't want to anymore. 

Jeremy is still his enemy because he doesn't have to show him any good sides at all, he had the Landon King that would be detested by everyone. 

"This conversation is dull," he says quietly. 

There's no information to gain, and Adrian isn't as interesting as he thought he would be. He's a watered down Jeremy, with none of the energy that captivated him, but he supposes the man has the aura of a killer which makes him dangerous. Yet he approached Landon with the intentions of a father-- so it gave him some humanity. 

So Landon is able to look him in the face and stare openly. "How do you want to go about this?" He asks, not handing over control or sharing it but allowing a truce for his own benefit. He doesn't have the ability to dismantle Adrian right now but overtime after he collected more data then he could deconstruct him.

"My wife likes you," Adrian says and he makes a power play by ripping Landon's cigarette from his mouth, as if it's some pacifier on a baby. 

He holds it between his fingers with distaste. "You will not be smelling like smoke around my Lia so come in after you get rid of that pungent scent, and...my son is a very jealous man so try not to stare at me with such blatant desire."

"I'm an artist," Landon says, a little stung by the chastisement, as he thinks of a Viking in Adrian's place. "Don't take it personally."

The man's objectively handsome to Landon, but he doesn't understand any sort of attraction anyone can have towards him. 

He's such a boring person. 

Strangely, there's never any mention of Jeremy's sexuality or how it affects his place in the Bratva. Just a natural acceptance despite the traditional mindset rooted in the mafia.

Jeremy's sitting with his parents when Landon returns five minutes later, after taking a walk around mother nature just to smell like earth. He's not sure if it worked but he tried. But he almost trips over his feet because for some fucking reason when Jeremy turns to stare at him it's different. 

He looks the damn same. But he's the most beautiful person Landon has ever seen, and it amazes him that it took this long to realize. 

It's a juxtaposition that he doesn't understand but he knows it has to do with the wiring of his brain chemistry. He greedily stares at Jeremy as he walks over to join him on the sofa.

It's a loveseat but he squishes in, and Jeremy naturally provides space but also possessively holds onto him with an arm wrapping around him. 

"I apologize," Landon says to Lia. "I needed to clear my head. Are the refreshments to your liking?"  

Lia nods with a smile.

A smile that Landon can't look away from. 

"Котейка," Jeremy says, fingers curling in his hair. Not petting but settling there to hold him. "I was telling my parents that you and Mia use to date."

Awkwardness should ensue after this rather tactless statement but Landon tilts his head, staring up at Jeremy.

He hears Lia chide, "Jeremy." 

Jeremy doesn't look away from Landon. His fingers tightening a little but not to hurt. Not a warning either. But impatience. What the fuck does he want?

He brought it up first. It's not Landon's responsibility to explain himself. He's literally married to Jeremy. 

Should he lie and bring up the romantic adventures he and Jeremy had? They never did anything that was considered a date.

Mandatory attendances at events didn't count, and the closest thing was Jeremy standing on the outer edge of Landon's art gallery exhibits looking in with steely eyes as he leaned against a wall, a wine glass swirling in his hand. He didn't care to join the vultures but he gazed at Landon for hours and trailed after him like a puppy throughout the event. If anyone touched him-- there was a sudden shadow and the person disappeared. 

Nothing else comes to mind. 

Romantic dinner dates. No. 

Fucking everywhere imaginable so Landon can't get Jeremy out of his head if he walked into a certain room, then yes. But that's not something he can share. 

Is that...weird? 

Being married for a year hasn't given him a new perspective at all. Nothing's really changed between them, but Landon thinks Jeremy is the most beautiful person suddenly. And while he's aware that Jeremy is an attractive person on a base level he hasn't realized how utterly dull everyone was in comparsion. 

"Mia and I didn't date," he clears up. Meeting up in his art studio and talking--- maybe those were dates and the little fun action they had was because of the dangerous sexual tension. He had scared her and she was defiant out of spite, it was exciting as a game of cat and mouse. 

Jeremy's fingers tighten in his hair to a gripping force so he can turn Landon's head. "You didn't date but you sure spent a lot of time with her." 

"What about you?" Landon asks snippily. "Ever had a girlfriend or boyfriend?" He'll find out and kill them. Just in plain revenge for this blatant game Jeremy's playing right now.

"Jeremy never brought anyone home," Adrian says helpfully, seemingly not minding the tension, rather enjoying it. 

Landon nods. "I never had the chance to meet Mia's parents. But her brother. He's loud and what else? Oh yeah, he's dating my brother so I guess Mia and I are always going to be seeing a lot of each other at family dinners."

Fuck you Jeremy. He hasn't forgotten that. 

"So it wasn't all that serious," Jeremy says, which is just not what he should be gleaning from his jab.

"I started empathy lessons with Bran," he says. Not something he wants people to know. It's a weakness and they'll turn it on him somehow.

But he's comfortable in this room. 

The temperature heats up suddenly. Jeremy's angry but his voice is cool, "Are you still learning?" 

"No," and that case is closed. Landon doesn't feel the need to.

And Jeremy releases him, withdrawing, not physically but he becomes distant. Almost like Landon's not sitting there. 

"You are a child," Adrian breaks the silence with exasperation. Speaking Russian. 

Landon pretends he doesn't understand as they have their little exchange, on the side talking to Lia about his art projects and plans to go down the business route while lending an ear out. 

"Ambitious," she says with a smile. Jeremy's smile and Landon softens unwillingly. "You're also more handsome than I expected. I checked your art page out and nothing could have really prepared me..."

"It sounds like you're flirting," Landon says. Trying to bring levity in. And she chuckles with a blush, but their conversation isn't as intense as the one happening in Russian. 

"-a long road ahead--"

"I know. But I have it all planned out."

"Does your jealousy need to extend to your father? I am married to your mother."

"What he sees when he looks at you is an older version of me, and I don't like that he's planning ahead for the future without me, imagining what I'd look like when it's actually you." 

Adrian's chuckle is strained. "My worst traits are amplified in you, but I understand what you mean. For the record, your kitten looks like he wants to harvest my organs." 

"I think it's adorable when he has that look in his eyes, so dark and sweet, and mine."

Hot. 

Not just Landon's blood, but his face.

Lia stares at him knowingly over her cup of tea. Jeremy and Adrian don't notice, and Landon has the urge to fix that, needing a certain set of eyes focusing on him so he grabs Jeremy's hand, interlocking their fingers.

A sudden hush. 

Jeremy turns to him.

"Miss me?" He asks, sounding delighted and utterly shameless about it.

So Landon nods, at ease.

But he continues his conversation with Lia.

Acting like this is all normal.

And he decides to recognize what that deep and dark sensation in his chest is, claiming it as his and therefore he can name it whatever he wanted. 

In the night, Landon waits till Jeremy is fully asleep to crawl over him and stare with their bathroom light on and filtering into the room. Jeremy doesn't stir despite the fact that he's usually a light sleeper. Whenever Landon moves around, he tends to gravitate towards him but maybe that's why Jeremy is so utterly defenseless. 

Cheekbones are still as hard as diamonds and his mouth is clearly begging for Landon's cock, but Landon merely studies him, denying his own arousal. 

There's masterpieces and then there's this perfection made up of flawed parts. A contradiction. Jeremy is not anything that Landon would have savored. Too harsh, not delicate enough and definitely not a hole for him to fuck. Not a person he can manipulate into being his puppet because Jeremy already knows what he's capable of and still. 

Jeremy lets him sleep in his bed. 

Put a ring on his finger. And lives out this cottage fantasy life in a manor where they're a married couple who have inlaw problems yet the Volkovs are charmed by Landon, at least superficially. 

Strands of thick black hair are scattered over Jeremy's forehead and Landon brushes them aside and stares in reverence.

Eventually, he kisses it, leaving his mark on that vulnerable part. 

Then flops onto his side to sleep but he curls around Jeremy, needing the furnace of his body heat. 

It becomes a routine. 

A nightly perversion as he takes advantage of Jeremy being unaware.

He watches, and touches more and more, training that body to bow underneath his fingers, and becomes daring enough to take what he wants without explicit permission. 

There's a feral quality whenever Jeremy fucks him, sometimes he's slow but Landon is impatient and whines alot so he gives in, but Landon wants to go slow for once. And it has nothing to do with worrying about Jeremy waking up. 

Usually Jeremy is doing this to him. Fucking him wherever he wanted and Landon's hole is always so stretched out and throbbing. 

It's not particularly vengeance that's on his mind but he adds a layer of punishment to his touches. 

Biting up his muscles and tweaking his nipples so he groans and twitches, a flush working over his tanned skin. Landon wants to paint his come all over him, over the tatted planes of his body, and into his eyelashes.

He wants to be everywhere.

Eventually.

One day.

Maybe tomorrow night. 

But Jeremy's eyes shoot open moments later when Landon's fully seated on his cock.

They stare at one another, and he expects anger. Jeremy is a man in need of control, the one to set the pace even when Landon fights. They're always locked in a feral push and pull but Landon takes liberties and doesn't care as he grinds down.

Shuddering with a gasp as sweat beads down his curved spine. Hands on either side of Jeremy's thighs as he lifts himself up and down. He teases himself, letting only the tip in and circling his hole around it before dropping in one movement. Swallowing up Jeremy in his own heat so he bucks up in need. 

"You're a fucking naughty котенок," Jeremy says with a rasp. A wild look in his eyes. A slew of Russian leaves his mouth.

Sounding angry as fuck but the words are too sweet. 

Dark promises of punishment that excite Landon but he plays coy.

"What's that?" He asks, hand coming down to wrap around Jeremy's throat. The pressure merely firm. 

"-- going to fuck you so hard you fall unconcious and I won't stop until you wake back up- give you a taste of your own medicine--- 

"I don't listen to threats, even if your cock is inside of me, Jeremy," he says, but his cock is edged towards an orgasm and he's canting his hips more wildly. 

His hand tightens around his husband's beautiful throat to feel his life force and the pulsing of his heart beat. Choking with enough pressure so Jeremy's face is red and he's breathing harshly with a rasp, but Jeremy stares up fervently. Not scared or in pain and Landon wants to hurt him because he's feeling so much, but he also doesn't because he cares. 

He cares. 

And that's the worst part.

Jeremy's never going to be free of him.

He fucks himself harder with his hand still on Jeremy's throat in a hold to brace himself more than to choke, but after a few more sloppy thrusts Jeremy rolls them over. Landon laughs when the man presses his head down on the pillow and drags his arse back up and spreads his cheeks. Fucking expecting it doesn't actually prepare him for the slap over his hole. Three hard fingers. And then a cock rams in through the burn. 

He's fucked so hard the bed shakes and the wall rattles from being knocked into and his hair is pulled tightly so he's bent back and at Jeremy's mercy. 

Teeth scrape over the side of his neck as cum fills him up, and he gets a sharp spank on his arse after it's been broken into. Then a tender kiss on his soaked forehead. 

"You're lucky," Jeremy says, all heat but all cracked too. His voice is wrecked. Fingers roughly grip Landon's jaw and he's pushed back for Jeremy to view his features. There's a set to Jeremy's brows, and for some awful reason he looks abandoned. Like he was left in an alleyway in a cardboard box. 

He's the kitten. Not Landon. 

"You're so fucking lucky," Jeremy says again. 

"Don't like it?" Landon asks though it's too late. 

"I don't fucking know. My instincts react to danger, even in my sleep. You doing that--- it's undone everything."

Brushing away the hair on Jeremy's forehead, Landon hums. "I'll protect you in your sleep, darling. The only one who gets to see you like this is me." Then he leans in to kiss that vulnerable spot that's all his. 

Jeremy stills, quiet and breathless and then a deep animal sound releases from his chest as he crushes Landon down with his weight like he could fuse them together as one. 

Love.

Is that what the obsession and possessiveness equate to?

It's very dangerous.

But thrilling. 

Landon is never bored at least. 

Protect. 

That's the instinct that Landon has when it comes to Jeremy and he's vicious about it.

It's the second year of their marriage and he's made a name for himself in New York.

Old Money amongst new money billionaires, he charms everyone knowing they're all backstabbers, but he collects his due and shapes his own newly formed empire to protect what's his. But he changes his IG handle proudly to King-Volkov-King, which earns him a rough hard fucking from a primal Jeremy, and he ends up limping for days after that, but also glowing.

Eventually, he stops contact with his dad. Not liking his tone. His mum tries to plead with him on Levi King's behalf but he's stubborn about it and he doesn't tell Jeremy because it's unneeded stress. It's not something he has to worry about. Landon's mind works to separate his issues into a box that's secured and away from Jeremy. It'll never touch him.

His husband has his own problems. He works a heavy shift at V Corp. A mafia built company that is trying to assilmate naturally amongst other lucrative business. Blood money. Violence. It taints their reputation and people will either double cross them or work with the feds if the price is right. So many webs. And enemies. 

Landon tries to help behind the scenes. Not wanting Jeremy to feel like he's...trying to take charge. He understands really the very traditional mindset Jeremy has and was raised him, while open minded about sexuality, there's some things he won't forgive or take kindly to. 

The Volkovs have enemies and Landon takes them out with his connections. Exterminating the ones that crop up persistently like roaches because they won't ever quit, and he diverts shipments of weaponry and trades enroute while framing other families, so there are new blood fueds while the Volkovs become lower on the totem pole of their hatred.

There is war, and Landon starts and ends them with a single click of his finger. Paying whoever he needed to get the job done. 

It isn't all blood and mayhem. He had done some gathering of forces too. Building a rapport and buying out some people over to his side. He steals henchmen from weaker divisions and finds them stable jobs that won't risk their lives and pays hospital bills for those desperate and had only joined certain causes to afford treatment for their relatives. 

He isn't a humanitarian in the least. The Kings support many charities but he's only doing this because he's selfish as fuck. Needing the man he loves to be safe. And protected from the dangers of this world and the many snakes waiting in the grass. 

But the most dangerous snake is him. 

The attic becomes Landon's lair so to speak and since he spends so much time there it's assumed he's sculpting but he hasn't in a while.

Jeremy's displeased when he enters one day, discovering nothing but tools and clay dust and particles from the sun. "No inspiration?" He seems to be asking another thing. No muse? 

"I've decided to retire." Landon decides right on the spot.

"Isn't art...connected to your inner being?" It's an uncertain assertion but a look of anger is set over Jeremy's brows with his fearsome frown.

"I don't have to create anything when you already exist," Landon says.

There's a sharp inhale of breath, and Jeremy doesn't blush, he's not the type to unless he's exterted but he avoids eye contact with his shoulders slightly bunched up.

And it makes Landon want to bite him.

So he does.

Grabbing him without further word, and undressing him as if he's a statue he's coveted. Jeremy stands there and lets himself be worshipped. 

All over his muscles, Landon scrapes his teeth, licking over tattoos like his tongue is responsible for them then he gets to his favorite part, the junction between his thighs, he bites, leaving marks, and Jeremy groans. And trembles. Looking down with a tortured expression as Landon gets on his knees for him. 

In one smooth glide, he swallows down the angry flushed cock so it hits the back of his throat in an instant, and he fucks his own face on it.

Taking instead of being ruined. Because he's greedy. And the noises Jeremy makes are animal but helpless.

At Landon's mercy. 

"Baby," he pleads. Hands over Landon's head. "Slow down, I need--"

Landon gags on purpose, making it sloppy because he wants to look ruined for him. Drool leaks over his chin and at the corners of his mouth as his vision turns hazy and his hands are grasping onto Jeremy's arse, wishing he could worship that too, but Jeremy doesn't want to bottom. He won't be putting his cock inside though just tongue.

With that thought he's bobbing his head up and down eagerly, humming over skin and licking trails of his own spit. Chasing a phantom taste as his nose inhales an intoxicating scent with desperation. 

"Fuck,"Jeremy lets out a shuddering breath, knees slightly buckling. "You're killing me. One day you'll actually be the end of me."  

And Landon will join him soon after. Because he realizes he can't live without Jeremy.

His husband's cock pulses in his mouth and cum chokes him in a torrential orgasm. Hands pull him up harshly, too rough for consideration, and immediately Jeremy's mouth is on his, and he devours. 

Taking every drop of his own cum as he kisses Landon.

But then he spits it back in. 

It's filthy, Landon's never really cared for anyone's fluids but he hums, the vibrations of his throat close to a purring feline.

A hand runs down his spine to sink underneath the waistband of his briefs, and grab his bare arse, fingers digging into the crevice, then wander over to roughly trace over his hole. The dryness should hurt but it's only a light prodding and a rub as they kiss. Their chests tight together, so Landon feels perfectly slotted against Jeremy as all he tastes is him. 

Seconds later, a thumb digs into his hole with intentful precision, and he shudders. It rubs and plays around despite the lack of stretch, so it slightly burns, but in a way that has his cock jerking, and reaching it's climax. He soundlessly gasps, cheeks flushed and eyes wet. 

And Jeremy's an animal because he sucks that thumb in his mouth, while staring at Landon, looking like he enjoys the taste.

Eyes bright and face glowing.

Happiness is a sexy look on him.  

In New York there is the Bratva, but also the Kings.

While their husbands did their mafia business, the brothers met up for coffee on Saturdays to catch up or discuss business. Which meant family on the King side since they were faring well but now had an absent Landon King-shaped hole in their empire.

Whenever the state of King affairs are mentioned, he becomes quiet so Brandon doesn't push as much anymore for any reconciliation though they speak about current events in their family. 

But in the city, Brandon's art pieces are making waves and a particular painting was even a victim of a heist.

Something that baffles Brandon while Landon laughs about it. 

"Should we go on an adventure," Landon says earnestly, bending back his straw. 

"No. It's fine," Brandon says in exasperation. "I don't like that look on your face."

"Suit yourself. So how's the sex life?"

"Oh my God."

"Vanilla?"

"I don't want to talk about that, but-- we might adopt soon."

"Oh."

"What about you?"

Landon doesn't think about it. The response is automatic. "I can't be nurturing."

"Yeah, you can, Landon."

"I'm not like you, or Dad. I can't do the mushy stuff nor will I be very supportive if my child didn't reach my expectations."

"You don't know that."

"Look at Glyndon, she still hates me."

"She doesn't," Brandon says adamantly. 

Which is a lie, but Landon only shrugs it off. The mood becomes more somber afterwards. Glyndon is technically living in New York with Killian but London is her true home because she's closer to their grandfather and would want to visit frequently as he grows older. 

"Being an older brother is different from being a parent, and you'll have Jeremy."

"Why are you trying to convince me to be a dad?" Landon asks with a confused frown, because they weren't the kind of twins that needed to reach every milestone together. They were both rather independent even if Landon needed to be in Brandon's business it was the older brother privilege rather than a symbiotic relationship.

"You look approachable," Brandon says. "There was always an air of danger around you when you were charming the socks off people but now you're...softer....no warmer. I'm thinking as a painter right now so maybe I'm being idealistic."

Landon is quiet as he seriously takes this in. "I love Jeremy," he says with ease and his chest feels lighter. And a smile overtakes his face with giddiness. "I realized a year into our marriage, but I couldn't confirm it until I retired because I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything in life. It's complete." His feet kick out slightly as he leans back in his seat.

He doesn't realize it's super hushed because he's trapped in this feeling until Brandon releases a choked noise. 

Disbelief and exasperation contort Brandon's features but then a strained smile appears over his face. "So why did you initially marry him if you didn't think you felt anything then?"

Oh.

It sounds too unconditional for someone like Landon.

"Understanding," Landon says quietly, almost impulsively because he's being led by this emotion that's tight in his chest. "There was no attempt at correction in anything I said or did, on my side or his. I didn't have to try so hard, but his cock is also super magnificent."

"That sounds wonderful, Lan," Brandon says sincerely, ignoring the last part. "So the empathy lessons...did they help any?"

"I don't need empathy," Landon says with a smile that's real, and therefore awkward. "I'm simply adapting with my instincts, and it's the most fun I've ever had."

Brandon stares for a few long seconds and then he smiles. "As long as you're happy."

And he is. 

After that, Brandon talks about the adoption process and the orphanage he and Nikolai are going to get around to visiting and Landon's heart twinges.

Not in want for what they have, but at how much Brandon is starting to resemble their dad. 

Prying out secrets is a natural talent that Landon has. Eventually the truth is unveiled to him, and he is the one that's using it to lord over the person he has in sights to intimidate or persuade. 

He just never really expects this. Complacency really is a weakness. Because he hadn't known about this any sooner when had the ability to discover it within moments. 

It's a month before their fourth year wedding anniversary. 

Landon listens to a recording.

He stares at moving images on a screen.

Jeremy had kept this but why? His sins could have been erased or did he want Landon to find it?

Landon erases it himself. 

The files. 

The backups. 

And then he smashes his laptop down and stomps on it. 

Love. 

It's hard. 

Giving a fuck hurts. But all he feels is anger. 

I'll hurt him for this, he swears as he's blinded by a seething rage. 

"He'll never change. One day he'll go too far because it's in his nature to ruin things. You'll find yourself conflicted so it's best to cut things off before it consumes you." 

"...." 

"There are definite sides to this, Mia. Here's a fact: You only have one choice between your brother or Landon, and you will eventually have to come to terms with one of them dying one day when they come to blows, and you are unable to save both of them. It's one or the other. Choose."

Mia hesitates. 

"Choose," Jeremy presses firmly. 

"Niko."

"Okay. I'm going to take care of Landon. It seems your plots at revenge are lacking and you're losing sense of your true motive because you're charmed by him. Literally tempted by the devil. I plan to be on his bad side and I mean to become his obsession so you need to leave."

"What? I want to stay here, I have a future, Jeremy."

"Can you stay away from him?" So sure that he'll be the one to win this twisted game he's already started in his head. 

Mia pauses, regret flashing in her blue eyes but she nods in determination. "I'm staying until I graduate for Maya. Keep Landon away from me since he's...keen on hunting me."

"Okay. Remember, you aren't to be anywhere near him and if he texts you--"

"Ignoring him won't work," Mia signs. Which is true. Landon had found her when she was playing hard to get. 

"I'll hack into his phone and make sure all of his texts end up with me."

Mia nods. 

Screaming in rage, Landon takes a chisel and throws it at a sculpture. The attic is his domain and it's where he secretly plots to protect Jeremy but he didn't think he'd find betrayal in the highest form. 

Fuck. 

He thinks of Mia.

He falls to his knees and picks up shards of clay. "Fuck!!!" He smashes his fist into the ground. "Fuck you, Jeremy!!" 

Jeremy won a game he didn't even know was being played.

Tracking Mia down isn't all that hard despite having the protection of the Bratva.

While she's her own agent well into her twenties, walking around carelessly like she owns the entire block, it's her family that keep her leashed to Manhattan.

She can come and go as she pleases.

But she's here with a phone pressed to one ear and a latte in her hand, as she waits for the walking signal, a smile on her face. 

The smile that's cute or devious but now it's relaxed, and fond. 

Landon stares out the window at her. His heart doesn't react nor does his blood run hot. 

She's no longer his obsession.

He gets out of the car when she's done with the phone call. 

Bumps into her like a male lead in a romantic drama.

She looks up with a gasp, and wide blue eyes.

"Little muse," he says. "Can we talk? Not that you have much of a choice because you're coming with me even if you scream. I'll make sure to gag your fucking mouth shut."

"Landon," she's not scared. 

She's resigned. 

"Get in the car," he says coldly.

She sighs. Defiance in the set of her jaw but complies because she knows him. 

So well. 

"I loved you," Mia says as the car accelerates. Probably thinking she'll die soon so it's time to confess her deepest and darkest secrets.

Landon remains quiet.

"I wasn't--- the Bratva isn't safe. I know you have the means to protect yourself but..."

"Why are you able to talk now?" he asks.

"Cecily...she's a psychologist. Well, just studying to be one when we started getting to know one another. It was a slow healing process but her patience and gentle guidance made me so resentful I started shouting. You had my defiance and she had my spite."

"Did you bond over me together? The psychopath that ruined your lives."

"It's Jeremy's fault, too," Mia says. "I will never forgive him, but I can play nice. We don't see each other often anyway."

Landon hums. "I'm another person he's ruined, and you're not off the hook either."

"I loved you. Did you not love me too?"

"Manipulation only works when you're evil of heart."

"That's not true-- but I wasn't trying--"

The car speeds up.

"As an artist I was merely obsessed with you as a source of inspiration."

"...don't downplay what we had."

"You diminished it first."

Mia remains quiet, and Landon slows down to drive at a more moderate pace for the duration of the car ride.

"Seriously?" 

"Take it off."

"Landon---" she grumbles but adjusts the straps of her dress so they're lowered over her shoulders, and he holds her like she's his puppet and snaps a selfie, but he makes sure their faces are cut out of the frame. The angle appears as if they're both nude.

"This is borderline sexual harassment," she complains. 

Ignoring her mutterings, he sends the picture to Jeremy from an unknown phone number and later goes out on a long drive around the city, to cool off, and to toss that phone into the bottom of the sea. 

Jeremy starts coming home sooner. Tense and suspicious and he's demanding so many things. 

"Where were you?"

And it keeps coming. 

"Do you have to hang out with those classmates of yours?"

The pictures he posts on his stories are the parties and raves he attends, drinking and smiling and dancing with other people.

Just like he's back to being Landon King the Leader of the Elites. 

"Are you missing the old days?" 

He means the drama that followed Landon everywhere because he needed to mess with people's lives. 

Trying to fix me? Landon thinks with an inward sneer.

But he softens up instinctively because of the way Jeremy's looking at him.

"No."

A lie and a truth.

He's ruining Jeremy for ruining him.

It's only fair. 

But the picture of Mia being held in his shirtless arms is brought up on Jeremy's phone one day and he's staring at it with eyes devoid of light on the sofa with a gun on his lap and a glass of vodka in his other hand when Landon pops up over his shoulder.

Not feeling a bit like he's in danger. 

"Hey, my dear husband."

"What is this?" Jeremy says blankly. 

"Hm. I think that's an old photo. You know how Mia and I used to date."

"This is fucking recent!" Of course he recognizes the hickey he put on Landon's collarbone. 

"No. What are you talking about?" Landon gaslights with no remorse.

"Landon," Jeremy says. "Don't fuck with me."

"Sorry," Landon says sweetly. "It's just all in good fun."

"Stay away from Mia."

Landon nods, acting like he's a leashed lover.

Well, he's not. 

He takes more pictures with Mia and Mia eventually puts her foot down with a rabid growl of frustration. 

"Can't you just communicate?! Stop these stupid mindgames to get what you want. I swear-- if this is your way of loving someone it's exhausting."

And she sounds very much like she's relieved. That she and Landon hadn't become a genuine couple. 

"This whole relationship was built on his lies," Landon says. "I'm the real victim."

"No, you fucking evil snake, I think you would have done the same thing if the situations were reversed--- in fact you almost killed my brother!"

"Let bygones be bygones, little muse, since Nikolai's my brother in law now. Now choose, Mia, between me and Jeremy."

Mia kicks him in the shin with her heavy and thick as fuck boot, and runs off. 

Landon rubs his wound with no plan to chase.

Instead he returns home. 

To Jeremy waiting. And looking like Hades. 

"Our anniversary date is in a week and I want to make sure you don't forget about it," he says softly. In contrast to his expression. Eerie. Landon shivers in delight.  

"Don't worry," Landon says, showing his calendar off. And it's all marked up on his phone, of all the appointments he has before and after like he penciled in their anniversary date to be a slot between shifts. Another work meet. 

Jeremy stares with a smile creeping over his face. "Good."

It's a warning packed into one word.

Landon runs.

And Jeremy chases. He's fucked out in the open, in the middle of the woods with the moon as the sole witness of animals shedding their human skins. He laughs, because he's not going to cry.

Nor does he feel sad. 

But it's an emotional high that makes the sex ache from his chest instead of from where Jeremy's drilling into him. 

"Jesus."

Brandon's worried for him. Their weekly coffee dates are always full of gossip from Landon's riveting life. 

Landon shrugs it off. Nikolai and Jeremy are off doing their macho mafia training somewhere else in the company building as they share a café table in the canteen area, and Killian's just there taking up space. 

"It's fun," Landon says. "You should try it."

"Absolutely not," Brandon says, horrified. Then he glances at Killian. "You and Glyn are being safe right?" Overprotective brother mode is on while Landon stares at Killian curiously.

They're supposed to be similar but the way their tendencies come out are different. Killian's a practicing doctor addicted to cutting people up just to see blood. But it's supposed to showcase that he's conquered his demons, too. 

Killian laughs. "Jeremy's an obsessive freak while my little rabbit is not that unfortunately, but she can't live without me either."

"Let's prove that," Landon says. 

"No thanks," Killian slurps his coffee obnoxiously. The reason they do this fake bonding bullshit is because they're in-laws with a new generation to worry over soon. Though Landon doesn't intend to have any children, he'll have to be the best uncle in the world instead. Thinking about how obsessed he is with Jeremy is probably going to be worse when he has a child to worry over. 

The child will not have a normal life with two obsessively protective fathers. 

Thirty minutes later, Jeremy returns from the gym with Nikolai grumbling behind him but the overgrown dog brightens up at the sight of Brandon like they don't see each other every day. 

"Hey," Jeremy says, and he tucks a loose strand behind Landon's ear. "Let's head home."

Landon doesn't protest. Already up on his feet. 

Jeremy drives them back home in companionable silence but Landon's restless and messing with the radio stations, not letting any one remain longer than a static noise that cuts off when he changes channels. It's after a while when Landon actually pays attention to where they're going that he realizes they're headed somewhere else. 

"Jeremy," he says causally, not a bit afraid. "Where are you taking us?" 

"A surprise," Jeremy says calmly, and he turns the radio dial, switching to a channel that plays trendy pop music. 

Landon switches it back to static. "I want to go home."

"Our anniversary is coming up," Jeremy says, and his tone is all calculated to be easy going. "I rechecked your schedule to see if anything changed but it seems you're still busy, so we're celebrating today."

"I'm not properly dressed," Landon says, though he looks good in anything. Right now his casual fit is a long blue sleeved v-neck, and black trousers but he still catches people's attention whenever he walks into a room. People approach with intentions painted all over their faces, or accidentally bump into him. Waiters and waitresses have dropped their phone numbers and other customers have stared.

It's why he usually spends most of his time at V Corp where there's a semblance of privacy and everyone knows he belongs to Jeremy. The city know about the Bratva, but the civilians foolishly ignore the danger. 

"Clothes won't be a problem," Jeremy says. Somehow he appears softer when he has evil intentions. His frown is replaced by a small lopsided smile, and his eyes shine. Boyish and eager and Landon stares. He stops pushing for answers as he sits back in his seat, waiting for their destination to reveal itself. 

The car drives down further and further from civilization, no corporation buildings, or factories, no skyscrapers in the looming distance or even a gas station for a pitstop. No other headlights of vehicle shine over them throughout the hour of the ride until eventually the car veers down a path that's sloping downwards. 

Jeremy drives with complete control, fearless of risks since he's been riding a motorbike since his teen years. The car offers more protection, so there's no hesitation when he drops them down onto a dirt road and speeds past trees.

The whole time Landon's heart is in his throat because he's excited and his fingers itch wanting to be the ones around the wheel. To out race the speed and velocity Jeremy's going at, but Landon would have been more reckless. Not knowing the map of the terrain as well as Jeremy who moves around these woods with an instinct borne from familiarity.

Betrayal doesn't wash over him, because he's already been betrayed and that hurt had been festering for longer. The hurt now is a slight pang as the suspicion grows stronger. Jeremy has secrets from him.

A hideout that he doesn't know about. 

Wheels jerk to a stop as the car parks before a open trail. 

"Come on," Jeremy says, trusting Landon to follow since he gets out of the car first.

Landon follows.  

Within seconds Jeremy's holding his hand like they're some teenage couple in a romance drama, experiencing a purely frustrating but fresh love. Young and wild, and full of human emotions that Landon has never felt the way he's supposed to. None of his first times were memorable beyond an experience he learned from and used to improve. Now he's holding a palm that's warm and calloused, but causing his own to tingle. 

And he lets himself be led down the trail, the air is crisp and moist smelling of dirt and rotting wood and his shoes trek with a slight stumble over uneven grounds, but Jeremy holds his hand.

Holds his hand all the way to the cottage. 

There's a kitchen that's the size of an island, all on one countertop, with cabinets on the wall.

A bed in the open area with nothing else furnishing the place for comfort, and a bathroom with a lock. 

And not much else. 

Landon stares around, trying to find signs of it being lived in since this is Jeremy's secret place. But it seems to only be a safehouse over a luxurious retreat. There's weapons in a safe, a gas stove, and a fridge that's probably taking up all the electricity and all of Jeremy's electronic devices that are hooked to one side of the wall up are old school, outdated, but run the cottage with security feeds around the perimeter from a satellite angle. 

"So..." Landon says after exploring, sitting down on a stool at the small circular table. Fingers tapping on worn down wood with peeling paint. "How often do you come here?"

Not an accusation, his tone is too mellow for that but Jeremy's by his side immediately. The plates he set down are abrupt. The food has been prepped beforehand and been taken out from the fridge, but he'd warmed them up in a microwave that has seen better days. But everything is clean, too clean. His husband is here frequently enough to care for the place. 

"Not much," Jeremy says. "Only to cool my head with all the compartmentalization I need to reframe in my mind."

Landon remembers with clarity the state Jeremy had in been post mission, only the one instance, but every word, the tension and the sexual evolution that took place, and assumes Jeremy gathers himself up here alone, rather than coming back home to Landon. There's an ache in his chest at the realization that he's not needed when his husband is vulnerable.

His mind is telling him that every pain is a consequence of Jeremy's actions and sneaky behavior because he owns all of Landon, but he doesn't have that in exchange.

He's a possession to Jeremy, and it hurts. 

If Mia hadn't come into Landon's life then would Jeremy have even done all of this? Maybe the attraction is real, no it definitely is and the fact that that could be the only reason why their relationship worked is sending Landon's mind signals, of possible outcomes to this continued marriage. 

Everything has an end.

There's no permanence to anything and Landon knows this better than anyone else. His sculptures have lost quality because there's no more inspiration to create any more outstanding pieces. What he said to Jeremy was the truth, there's no need to create anything else, but Landon's also overcome with the realization that eventually he'd lose something with Jeremy too. This spark, and he will be the one to fade with nothing left to keep Jeremy chained to him.

The man has seen all of Landon, too much and eventually he'll grow bored. 

Jeremy's words are a distant ring in his ears and Landon's moved before he realizes it. The table topples over and everything crashes to a heap of broken shards and ruined food.

"Why didn't you kill me when you had the opportunity during my weakened and feeble self during the first year of our marriage? When all I ever did was adapt to you because I didn't want to lose anymore than I already had. Grey, fucking grey, Jeremy was the color I needed. Instead you derive pleasure from my submission and continue this charade because it means you've won," he hisses into the chaotic silence of noises that strum from his head.

The pounding in his ear drums and the erratic beating of his heart as his blood runs hot, but in anger.

"You were planning to hunt me down with Mia out of the picture to leash me after you've domesitcated me, but I'm not a pet, and I refuse to be yours any longer!" 

And he whirls around, running towards the door, eyes pricked with hot tears. Because his mind had been giving way to his emotions for a change so he'd lower his guard without a need to implement any of his own plans in motion. 

Jeremy's an enemy. 

Has always been an enemy from the start and he's forgotten the role the man was playing on the board. 

He hates losing, so he'll never forgive Jeremy for this.

What he needs to do is find a way to deconstruct him. All of his required tools are back home-- no in his lair. He needs his phone, the one he uses for his work. Call up a lawyer to file for divorce, call his parents and tell them he's sorry so they could rescue him, give a sob story that would make them so protective they'll stop Jeremy from ever seeing him. Because Landon's weak, unable to stop his impulses, so they would have to lock him up and become the barricade. 

Levi King despises Jeremy so it be only take a word for his father to come here and help him.

Landon's never fallen in love, and he's never found himself trapped before either, but his parents...he needed them to take the reigns.

He's utterly clueless and hopeless in this predicament.  

How else is he supposed to hurt Jeremy when it ricochets back to him?

This agony isn't meant to be his. 

His legs are crossing over to the trail, ready to climb his way back to the road if he needs to but he's tackled, hands cushioning his head as he's rolled around in dirt and dried leaves, clawing doesn't do anything since he's held with an iron clad grip. Pinned down by a crushing weight so his struggles are as effective as a tantrum but he doesn't surrender. 

"Let me go," he says, voice pitched and warbly like static. 

The silver of Jeremy's eyes illuminate the entire boundless sky when he's turned over, and he stares up with a hitching breath.

"I could have been human," Landon breaks first. That gaze is one that unsettles him. "I was so close to understanding love, because Mia provided enlightenment. Her silence was mine to shatter, and her voice would bring me happiness because I would crush all her demons for her, and be the sole protector she needed. A man she could love without restriction. Her defiance would never bore me, her cornflower blue eyes and sunlight smiles would cure me of this coldness in the marrow of my being. My muse has given me color. Which you stole from me!"  

Jeremy's face is shut off, a complete stoic wall has slid over it so he's more machine than man. His eyes are darker than ever though. 

"Idealistic," the devil scoffs. "That's not who you are, Landon, and I don't care much for colors but the evidence. You blush a pretty red around me and your blue eyes turn a dark sapphire, and I'm not your sunlight, but I burn hotter. I can melt you in a way that her smiles can't. What you need is me, and what you want is a fantasy that'll save you from being alone in the dark. But you have me eternally." 

"No, no, I hate you," Landon says, shaking his head and trying to yank his wrists out from Jeremy's grasp. 

"I wouldn't mind if you did because it's still passion," Jeremy says, so calmly and evil and staring with coals in his eyes. 

"I'm a pet to you," Landon snarls. "You hid me away, and married me in secret and made sure I was reliant on your false dedication to my needs."

"Nothing is false," Jeremy says with heat now. "Not a single moment. I like taking care of you, and being with you, and you're not a pet, but you're mine. I'm not sharing you not even on our wedding day, no one gets to see your radiance, but me."

"Fuck you! I wouldn't have said yes if you proposed, I would have laughed in your face, I--" he should have ran away but he'd been confused. And curious.

The curiosity killed the fucking cat. 

It's the same pique of interest he had with Mia, wondering about her expressions and wanting to own some of them, but Jeremy diverted his attention. And led him astray down another circle of hell. 

"Why the fuck did you record that?" He asks, shattered and in need of answers to restore his vengeance. "You aren't a complete imbecilic moron so why did you have evidence of your sins left behind for me to find? Did you think I would forget and forgive? I'm still Landon King, and you're my enemy which means I'll never stop until I end you for your transgression." 

There's silence. 

He stares up, and Jeremy stares back down, grey eyes a shade darker. 

A beast calculating how to trap it's active prey without it running off too soon since it's aware of the danger circling around. 

"I wanted you to know that Mia wouldn't choose you when it really mattered."

But Jeremy used a certain scenario, one he personally experienced. It's never been a lose situation for him with the compiled evidence to back up his theoretical problem, and Mia had fallen for the trap. It isn't just proof, but it serves as blackmail material for Mia.

How the fuck did Jeremy get away with doing this to his best friend's sister?" 

There's many reactions Landon thinks he should have, and the fact that he doesn't instinctively lash out first without having to go through his thoughts just means one thing.

He doesn't care about Mia anymore. 

Not in any way to feel regret or upset that something he considered as his was taken out of his grasp. He'd already known this but his feelings don't agree with his mind. 

A betrayal required his brand of justice. 

He can appreciate the darkness in the whole ploy, but he still can't accept being a piece on a board---the prey that was being hunted because there was no way for him to win if Jeremy had already decided his fate from the beginning. So he had cheated from the start. 

"I want to go back inside," Landon says honestly, drained from his outburst and wanting a hot shower, and his husband's pampering. Dinner is ruined, but he knows Jeremy probably has the foresight to stock up in preparation. 

He knows Landon too well. 

"We'll stay here for the rest of the week," Jeremy says softly. "How does that sound? Just you and me for a while then we can go back home." 

It sounds delightful. 

There's more inside that cottage that he needs access to if he wants to undo Jeremy the way he's done to him. Inside that sanctum is a weakness he's never been aware he could obtain. Jeremy is gifting it to him as an anniversary present, but Landon's going to pretend for a while that he's grateful.

"Let's do that," he says just as softly. 

It's not painstaking relief that shines in Jeremy's eyes, but a dark satisfaction because he would have chased Landon down anyway but knowing it was his choice to stay--

It pleases the devil. 

There's no tub, only a showerhead and a drain, but the hair products are all for Landon, newly bought and stocked beforehand. The expensive shampoo and conditonor is rubbed into his hair throughout the thirty minute shower and he scrubs his body clean, wondering at the next step. When he's thought through everything calmly, he dries off and dresses in fresh clothes that belong to Jeremy. Black shirt and black sweats.

Jeremy doesn't apologize, he doesn't think there's anything to be guilty of. And Landon doesn't want to hear a word of sorry because that implies regret. He'd rather have Jeremy fully be evil than have a moment where he's human so he can be just as merciless.

The cottage isn't cozy, it's a practical and cold place but the bed is new, or at least the soft duvet and pillows. Smells freshly of lemon detergent and bleach. The food they eat are sandwiches that Jeremy made, and it's not any Michelin worthy meal but Landon eats it down with relish as he sits there being watched. 

Jeremy's waiting. 

He knows. 

And Landon shoves his empty plate away to be taken and watches as Jeremy meanders around serving him.

This awareness is that of two cautious predators not knowing if they're dealing with an enemy that's stronger than them but refusing to bow down in their territory. 

When Jeremy walks back to him, Landon promptly starts to add stipulations in their relationship like they're in a business meeting discussing a contact.

"Okay, here are some new clauses for our partnership. If I ever walk out, I don't want you to interfere with what I'm doing. You can watch and stalk all you want, but don't disrupt my purpose, so I know I have the power to make decisions in my own life even for something as simple as going to a car wash."

The control, he needed to obtain it slowly but surely. Too much all at once and he'll combust with all the power he holds. 

Jeremy nods. Seeming like he expected this but his gaze is sharp and analytical. 

"I've enrolled in some new classes to alleviate my boredom for now. No more parties, but I'll go out with colleagues for a drink like you do with your friends."

Jeremy hesitates with a pause, but nods.

There's a grand finale, but Landon adds filler to aggravate his personal audience. "How did your parents react to our secret marriage when you told them about it?"

A blink. Not shock, but an adjustment. He's been ready for the worst, but Landon's not that kind. "It was never hidden from them. From the very beginning they knew my intentions, but I made excuses to stall them from trying to meet you as soon as possible."

Landon laughs. Mirthless and reactionary. "My parents get a modicum of respect from you and I don't have them in my life anymore, but for someone who has so much to lose it seems you just do whatever the fuck you want." 

"My mom worries over me when it concerns how far I'm willing to go, but she understands how Volkovs are because she is one now. My parents love you, in their own way because you're one of us." A claim. Jeremy doesn't care about the Kings, not even indirectly but he'll steal Landon completely away from them by giving him other pieces to fill the void of absence. Instead of his parents, he'd have Jeremy's and that meant he was completely integrated into his family with no one on his side to warn him, or have a fraction of his time. 

The only person is Brandon. 

But if he wasn't married to Nikolai would he still have been able to keep his twin? Well, Landon would have ran if that had been the case and Jeremy knows that, yet he knows too much. 

Walking willingly into the palm of Jeremy's hand to see how far this went, was a curiosity he's paying for.

He hasn't changed, yet there's an obsession to please and be near Jeremy that overcomes his senses. It's a weakness. 

But Jeremy's weakness is here.

"Was Mia's letter real?" 

Jeremy is still. 

"She left me one but the fire burned it to ashes so you made a fake one. I'll never know what her true farewell said."

Landon laughs though because it doesn't even matter. He burned that bridge so long ago and Mia has been around without him feeling anything for her. They don't talk about it because it's in the past.

Not buried but blown away.

All those feelings weren't as intense as the ones he has right now.

"Why did you go back to my art studio?" He asks without waiting for an answer.

"You left broken sculptures around so I wanted to study them, to understand why you deemed those particular ones a failure."

"Do you have one of your bikes out here?" He asks, and Jeremy's expression flickers, but he nods. "Take me out for a ride."

Jeremy clearly doesn't like the deviation to what is a groundbreaking conversation since there's an explosion that's waiting to be set off, but he doesn't refuse Landon. Because he's the sort to give in to his needs. Pleasing Landon feels good for himself so he's reaping a reward he knows is poisonous.

And Landon realizes as he watches Jeremy that he's calm and his own mind is the clearest it's ever been. He can read Jeremy just as well as Jeremy can read him. 

This whole time. 

But then why did Landon lose?

Was it a newly developed perception or was he blinded by his feelings? In an ironic sense it seemed he stopped using his brain around Jeremy since he trusted him so much. 

The sound of the safe being unlocked and keys being grabbed shake him out of delving further into his mind, and he gets up to follow Jeremy.  

Again. 

There's a garage of motorbikes back at the manor, collectibles while Landon prefers his own sports cars. However they both spend a lot of time being driven around in a more practically safe SUV for protection, black tinted windows with a bulletproof exterior, so these vehicles are indulgences. And driving them were a thrill seeking opportunity. 

Sometimes Landon went for a drive around the outerskirts of the city in his McLaren while Jeremy had his bikes for his dirt roads. It was probably the only other instance in which they were fully alone in their heads.

After uncovering the turmac from the sleek black and silver bike that's been parked in the woods, Jeremy takes out a helmet for Landon from the compartment, and straps it on for him carefully, then takes a step back to stare. 

"What?" Landon says impatiently.

"I wanted to...do this back then."

"Why didn't you ask?" The light and rather patient tone isn't one Landon's used often, but it comes out for Jeremy like it's specifically programmed for him.

Jeremy's eyes flicker away then stare back with a rueful twist to his mouth. "I know you'd say no."

Landon has no response because it's true. But Jeremy's not in the habit of really asking permission which he pointedly stares at his wedding band as an indication of what he thinks of that statement.  

"I can't exactly throw you over my bike and drive off with you," Jeremy says smoothly but he smirks. "Don't get cold feet because I'm not stopping until we're at the edge."

"Edge of what?" Landon asks bravely, but Jeremy just chuckles and shakes his head, strapping on his own helmet. 

Then he sits down with the casualness of danger in his blood, and Landon shuffles over the rear-end with a bob of his throat as he swallows. 

"What if...."

Jeremy's hands are already on the handlebars and he's revving the engine. When Landon doesn't get on right away, he looks back with a taunt of his brow. Landon hastily climbs on and sets his thighs on either side of the roaring deathtrap and wraps his arms around Jeremy's waist, fingers sneaking to the front of his jeans. 

"Lan," Jeremy says reproachfully. "Don't do that when I'm driving, or we'll crash." 

Landon isn't intentionally trying to turn this into something sexual, but he has no words to offer. So he simply buries his head over Jeremy's shoulder, near his neck where his scent is heavy and his skin is warm against his cheek. Instead of driving off right away, Jeremy sits there for a moment, possibly waiting for Landon to adjust, so he squeezes his arms around his husband to let him know he's ready. 

Warm blooded and his, and Jeremy's cock is the only place Landon can---

"Go ahead," Jeremy says shortly, sounding frustrated but Landon doesn't care for his tone. His hand reaches immediately between his legs, grabs his bulge, but doesn't attempt anything else.

The lieu of silence is Jeremy trying to figure out what's wrong with him, probably remembering that as much as he can perceive Landon, his husband is still a psychopath that's wired differently from neurotypicals. 

But Landon only holds on and waits. 

Eventually Jeremy sets them off. 

The path is easygoing at first as he gains speed but he takes a sharp turn, so they're headed downwards.

Plummeting, and Landon shuts his eyes so the sensations are more intense around him. 

It's all for Landon, the closeness to his husband as he clings from behind.

The world blurs around them with the wind causing his body to shiver, but all he really feels is Jeremy, not just externally but internally as well. His heart thumps without permission, but the adrenaline from the speed on a metal deathtrap has provided a reason to hug and depend on Jeremy with his life at stake. 

The bike offshoots over a gaping space, and Landon's screaming, eyes clenched shut. 

"I have you," Jeremy says firmly and loudly. 

"Do it again!" Landon screams into his ear. A laugh following soon after with a mixture of panic, and he feels Jeremy's body tremble slightly, rocking with his own laugh. 

He does it again, and the swoop in Landon's gut reminds of when he realized exactly what shade of grey Jeremy's eyes are.

Even before that wedding band had been on his finger. 

I love him, he thinks 

So I'm going to hurt him.

It's not about revenge. 

But a strategy to win at this love game.

Landon loves. 

He loves deeply. 

Selfishly. 

Chaotically. 

Ardently, but not wholesomely.

But obsessively.

And irrecovably. 

It's in the brain, not really the heart, the chemistry is rewired so he can't think, but only feel.

The understanding isn't there. 

But the instincts are. 

His instincts are telling him to run while he still can, because he understands the danger.

This whole marriage was an experiment for him even if he hadn't realized it yet, but there was now knowledge and experience he hasn't had before processed in his brain. 

It's a war of hormones, and instincts.  

His feelings are unstable and need a proper balance but regulation isn't adaptive for him. 

The silence is loud and he hates silence, but this is the ticking time bomb before a self-destruction. 

Overwhelmed, Landon turns to Jeremy but Jeremy is the reason for this chaos, a chaos he's used to, but there needed to be an output.  

He doesn't want to hurt Jeremy because the pain will bounce back to him. And it's not a genuine relief, but a short-lived reprieve before it starts over in a cycle.  

Forever. 

That scares Landon. 

The repeated cycle of this love. 

Was he always going to reach this point or did the hurt he experienced from betrayal offset this chain of reaction?

A betrayal in the form of Jeremy hiding things from him, concealing sides of himself away from being known when Landon is supposed to be his god. 

He deserves everything, and more. 

Gods aren't consistent. They are temporarily pleased before they become ruthless. Emotions aren't pure for them, but the loyalty is remembered and so are the sacrifices. 

And that is what Landon King is. 

A god. 

Jeremy has made himself a domain that he's tied to, something to rule over responsibly so he can't be an absent god.

"Baby," Jeremy says, crowding him against the bike. "Did you have fun?"

Landon blinks, then peers over Jeremy's shoulder.

There's an endless body of water that's half an abyss and half shimmering from the horizon.

"The edge..."

It's been hours of journeying or possibly minutes because time moves at a different pace when he's with Jeremy, sometimes it slows to a crawl even though he's not bored, and sometimes a day has passed before he's aware of it. 

"The edge of the city."

"Is this real?" He asks in a unevenly pitched voice.

"Yeah, baby."

"Do you feel love?"

"I do."

"Tell me."

"It's a very intense and focused anger. The only one I want to hunt down is you, like an animal with something to prove. You're mine, so I'm protecting you and defending our home. And our home can be anything, even this very moment."

"Anger?"

"Passion but I'm angry because of my control being shaken up."

Passion. 

It ignites Landon suddenly.

"You did this to me. I didn't even care about you before, but now I'm obsessed!" He pushes at Jeremy as he shouts in his face. But Jeremy's an impenetrable wall that doesn't budge or react. "I DIDN'T CARE UNTIL YOU WERE AN ENEMY!"

An enemy is what Jeremy is. His brain latches onto that familiarity and attempts to properly resort him to his function. An enemy is someone he can harm without needless emotion, someone he's already hurt before without it affecting himself in the slightest. 

"I'm your husband," Jeremy says, in his head already trying to rip apart his rebuilding composure. 

"I hurt you, and I will hurt you! Every time you upset me I'll make it ten times worse because I'm a god set on punishing you! I don't have emotions, and I don't want anything, but an ephemeral moment of this because it's chaos! And that means it ends! After I give all that I have I'm empty again, so this marriage has run its course!"

Four years. 

What exactly has he done throughout that time? 

"Why did you lead me down this path of self-destruction instead of killing me?!" 

Landon's eyes are hot and wet and he can't see clearly as everything becomes a blurry haze. 

"I felt this for ages," Jeremy says, finally breaking but at the sight of Landon's tears. "I never felt this way for anyone, and it angers me that it had been so shallow of a reason when I'm logical, and built for war. You're not a woman first of all, and that angered me so much I hated you. I never looked at boys and I grew up surrounded by them, in every facet of my life there are men, Landon, and none has shaken me up."

Landon's a confident man, looks like a man and only has his mother's hair and her bone structure, but he's masculine.

No one has said he was pretty enough to be a girl or mistaken him for one. There are girls that are drawn to him, because of his charm and boys that want to share in his glory so they get close to him, and some might want to get fucked by him, but never had anyone wanted to own him. He's the one with the dominance and opressive aura.

The danger that he exuded had attracted people regardless of their sexuality, had attracted Mia, a mafia princess intent on understanding him. 

"I'm a man," Landon whispers. "You're the same as everyone else."

And it's not a revelation. 

But a foreknowledge. 

Before he put a name to this feeling, he had held back on purpose with the intuition that he might wound up being disappointed.

It's mundane. 

The reason for Jeremy's love. 

His fucking appearance.  

Landon's well aware of every one of his perfections, so the effect he has on people has been both natural and manipulated. The charm he has is wielded masterfully to pull out what he wanted from certain individuals as he used them for whatever he needed to be done. And he hasn't done that to Jeremy, especially as an enemy, he hadn't seduced the man.

He only hurt everyone around him. 

He hadn't wanted to be liked nor did he require devotion. 

Jeremy falling for him through attraction was--

Disappointing. 

Gods are loved, but aren't seen. 

Mortals only had the most human side of them and the most temporary. It destroys them when it becomes intense. Tragedy will befall them inevitably. 

And Landon's not going to let his favorite--

His favorite--

His tears fall over his cheeks with a wounded noise ripped from his throat. 

Keen and loud.  

More vocal than any of his pleasure. 

His pain echoes and rebounds.  

Jeremy's his favorite person, so he wants to protect him despite being disappointed.

A god has favorites but those moments are fleeting in their immortal lives. 

How did he get Jeremy to stay with him forever when he's not purely human? He'll hurt him one day, and not on purpose, unplanned from his impulsiveness.

He needed to return--

"Your eyes, Landon!"

Jeremy shouts. 

Like he knows Landon is dissociating back to godhood as he leaves his mortal facade. 

"They're cold, but beautiful! I knew immediately you saw the world differently because I've seen killers with that gaze, sometimes I see it in the mirror! But I noticed your vulnerabilities too! That softened me, because I knew you didn't grow up the way I did, and it made me want to understand you, not because I wanted to change you! You're a man, and you're beautiful but it's your eyes that fucking drive me crazy, so I wanted you to look only at me!"

"Well?!" Landon isn't swooning over this. "Are you fully done with them? You've seen enough, and now you know what I am, so it's over!" 

He needed to leave before he is the one that is abandoned.

He loves selfishly

And he's self-centered so he'll protect himself first and worry about Jeremy later. Jeremy's strong, he doesn't even cry or feel pain--

Sad eyes from abandonment flashes into mind.

"Love is conditional," Landon explains with a sudden patience, but he's wrung out of energy too. "You're going to find someone else with beautiful eyes and move on to obsess over them."

He hasn't forgotten.

Obsession isn't love.

For him it's the closest thing, but not for a man like Jeremy.

Eventually he'll find another person. 

"Why aren't you fucking listening to me and understanding what I'm trying to say, Landon?!" 

"You're a fucking lunatic!" Landon bursts out. Because none of what he heard made any sense. It sounded like Jeremy hated him, and was obsessed with his eyes, but that wasn't love. Passion was limited, one day it'll be drained completely when Jeremy realized he could find another source of excitement. 

Animals loved hunting, and Landon was no longer a challenge. 

"You think you're a god! And I'm the lunatic!?" Jeremy shouts back. 

"I am a god! Because I'm perfect and everyone else is inferior! I'm a genius with a talent that can't be overthrown---"

"You bleed and you get down on your knees for me," Jeremy says in a deadly tone. 

"My dignity!" Landon cries. "I gave it all up for you, and you're throwing it back in my face!"

"All you want is sex! So what the fuck are you giving up for me exactly?!" 

There's a shockwave in Landon's system, crippling shame and anger, but pain. So much of it so his entire body shudders and tears come splashing out but the feel like diamonds become of how much it hurts to have moisture in his eyes. 

"Stop crying, Landon," Jeremy says, so angrily. 

His heart twinges. 

His love is possessiveness and obsession but a protection that consumes him. Everyday he's thinking about Jeremy and missing him, wanting the furnace of his body heat, his intoxicating scent, the taste and feel of him. Lowering himself with no humiliation in his bones, to do things he would never for anyone. 

There hadn't been a need. 

It had been unconditional.

Because Jeremy had all of him with no expectations. Only his presence was required for those parts of Landon to function. 

When Landon feels anything it's typically fueled by a selfish desire. 

And he wanted to love Jeremy, so he let himself.

All those emotions he named on his own so he could make sense of them. It hadn't been empathy, at all. If he had learned empathy then maybe he could have avoided all of this. 

"You will never hear the words from me," Landon says as coldly as he can with tears over his face. 

Hellfire. 

The atmosphere, the tensed crackling silence, Jeremy's breathing in rage and his eyes sparked with a fury from a razing hell.

But after a moment, he nods.

A sharp movement that's a readjustment for him. 

"I'll call Ilya to pick us up."

His voice is so quiet but his actions are abrupt and jarring when he kicks down the bike so hard so it falls over with a loud clatter. 

Then he storms off to the side to be away from Landon. 

And they wait with a bridge drawn between them so they're on other sides of the world.

The sun sinks lower and lower and Landon can't stop the tears despite the fact that he has nothing left to give. 

An hour later, Ilya arrives. He doesn't ask anything or dare look at either of them especially when Jeremy slams the door after getting into the front seat when he'd usually be inseparable from Landon.

In the back, Landon sniffles and trembles, not bothering to hide it.  

Then the partition slides shut. 

A sharp pang passes through his chest. 

Because he did this. 

Pushed Jeremy away.

But it needed to be done 

Their wedding anniversary is another average day that passes. A post is uploaded on Instagram for the sake of tradition.

In the photo dump this year there's no hand holding or glimspes of Jeremy, instead he has pictures of the sunset, and him kissing a sculpture in the garden. A faun that's actually a demon if people looked carefully enough. 

The comments are as expected.

Questioning where his husband is at.

Congratulations. 

Hearts.

Some young influencer with a large following asking if he'd leave Jeremy for him which he ignores, but someone else has replied for his sake. 

NikolaiSokolovKing: @jeremyvolkov

Stupid dog, Landon huffs. 

jeremyvolkov: 🔪 

Fuck you, Landon throws his phone. Not even a single fucking heart or a like.

Fuck this. 

He stomps to their bed and flops down, curling into a ball and he hates this.

The tears over stupid little shite he wouldn't have cared about.

This experience is new but he's two years away from being thirty yet why does he feel so young?

Emotions were making him immature as fuck. 

And this needed to end.

A day later, Landon is up in his lair researching, not having done much but mope and sleep.

Jeremy still hasn't come back to the manor, and he tries not to think about where he could be instead he uses his genius brain to learn as much as he can. 

Love for psychopaths. 

Statistics of happy couples with anti-social disorder. 

Narcissism and love. 

Examples of unconditional love. 

Divorce papers are filed just in case.

Because he's already ruined this marriage.

Shattered the illusion of happiness and perfection. The first year had been a meek year of assimilation and then the next had been emotionally charged and the third was Landon accepting it-- that he had loved Jeremy for a while but didn't know what to do.

He had protected himself for the first year, wanting to ride out the marriage with Jeremy as unexpected as it was because at least he could be with the man, and the next he let himself realize. 

Third year of his marriage he is in love with Jeremy Volkov but now he ruined it.

Ending it was for the best. 

It's already so intense and more years will break him. A fear so intense also claws it's way in, that he would be the one with nothing left to offer.

London, he thinks.  

To see his parents and understand their love. But then he looks at his courses again.

Neuroscience. 

Psychology.

Maybe he can undo this himself.  

So he forgets about leaving New York for travel and instead becomes a diligent student at university and no one suspects anything, and Jeremy and him are estranged. 

Since hurting Jeremy he had been avoiding Landon but also proving his loyalty. 

His trustworthiness by not interfering with Landon's life if he ever walked out. 

"This is Sofia Banks with my patient Landon King and we are going to begin our session."

A formal obligatory introduction for the recording.

Landon nods as a habit, allowing his senses to be lured into the ambiance, the heavy scented candles and the warm coziness of the sofa. 

And the woman with an oval face and round glasses hypnotizes him. 

One hour sessions are done weekly in the office, and it's an illusion because while licensed, the woman was a fellow senior classmate he sometimes chatted with over assignments. And she had been more insightful than he expected, so he let himself settle back on the couch to the drone of her voice with the clock ticking in the back. 

He doesn't believe anyone can master his mind but him, but he'll test the boundaries of that.

"Brainwash me," he'd said. 

"That's not how this works."

"How much can I pay you to try?"

"I have a research project," she had given her own price. "Let yourself be my test subject and I'll forget all about ethics."

"What are you testing?" He's not a fool to give anyone his complete trust, but he also has nothing left to lose.

A marriage he ruined.

A man he loved that didn't love him back in the same consuming way so there was always the knowledge that Landon was too much. Eventually Jeremy would have been fed up and left on his own.

So many years ahead so Landon made sure to hurt him first so he wasn't the one that would crumble to complete devastation. 

"Nature vs Nuture. An overdone piece of research but I want to find a different angle. Less platonic and more into the romantic spectrum. Love is nurturing in all forms. Some believe it's a cure, or a poison. I want to test you by putting you under hypnosis to answer my questions from your subconscious. It will be more intimate and truthful than anything."

"Can you ask me specific questions I want answers to?"

And so Landon discovers more about himself through the recorded sessions. 

His house is still bereft of Jeremy, so he stops returning to the manor, and stays at one of their safehouses instead.

LOG REPORT

I won. 

LOG REPORT 

My husband's weaknesess:

I forget that he's a psychopath sometimes because he's perfectly attuned to me but there are moments when I realize all over again. His odd fascinations, apparently what I find adorable about him is unsettling for others, and he's a little slower on the uptake with social cues despite having learned how to blend in, though he has an aura around him that makes it obvious he's dangerous.

There are still some moments when he visibly flounders (the poker face).  It leaves him vulnerable. The time it takes for him to realize what's happening is the time I use to come up with a trap. He can try to run, but I already found a way to capture him. It's advantageous for me but then I start doubting everything.

Would he have actually stayed if I didn't make him so obsessed with me?

Would he have been like this for her?

LOG REPORT

Empathy.

I didn't want him to change, but he's adapting.

We study each other.

He knows me but is a second too late to understand my intentions. He stares at me and wonders why I look a certain way at him. I'm his enemy so he's suspicious but that's why I became his husband. So he would perceive me differently and fall straight into my arms without any of the defense mechanisms wired in his brain. 

When he sleeps, his brain isn't in attack mode so I decided to put a ring on to see how he reacts when he wakes up.

He's mine.

If he rejected me I would have pursued him with a different tactic but I did it in a bold way where he wouldn't misunderstand. I didn't ask because he wouldn't say yes, but he didn't have to go along with it either, so the choice was still there.

But I know him. 

He's still human so he'll reach a breaking point, but I'll be there alongside him to reassemble him everytime. He's too addicted to my presence and voicing outloud the concept of a future means he's scared to lose this. 

Confusion. 

Awe. 

He looked so in awe.

So damnably young. 

I couldn't fucking look him in the face because I would have done something to hurt him. My control was slipping from me because of his wide blue eyes and the slight part of his lips. There was some pink spreading over his cheeks. 

I was losing my mind and my animal instincts would have taken over.

Does he understand what marriage is?

It's permanent for us. 

He followed me because I conditioned him to need me. Would have been the same for anyone else he'd ever theoretically (impossibly) fall for?

It's driving me crazy

He's way too easy to manipulate and that scares me.

The way he looks at me...makes me feel like an actual villain.

He's not naive or pure or even innocent but I want to protect him, and kill anyone that looks at him with impure intentions. To contain these urges I find another mission.

I'm my cottage finding outlets to not hurt him, because I have the capability to so, as an instinct, I might try to test how far. 

But his eyes.

They calm me. 

But I realize something...my husband's weaknesess are mine.

So I'm protecting us both. 

LOG REPORT

I lost.

How do I get rid of this rage?

[ERROR--]

The safehouse is a studio apartment that's furnished with essentials and a king sized bed takes up the living space. There's a kitchen table that he's converted to a study area, and he's settled in this one particularly because it's close to the company so he can pretend if he gave in to his urge to see Jeremy that it was an accidental chance. And he's really become the same as everyone else, needing to get close to the person they considered irresistable.

The place doesn't seem compromised whenever Landon returns, but he's aware of the hidden mirco security cameras and the fact that he's being watched. But then a week later the fridge becomes magically stocked, his favorite cherry soda taking over one shelf, and boxes of prepped homemade lunches, but a post-it note on sealed pre-made dinner waiting for him to heat up, and eat.

It's not a romantic poem, but a fun fact. 

you're 6'4 but still slightly shorter than me because I have to look down for direct eye contact

"Delusional," Landon says outloud and makes sure it's caught on camera. But he eats the food and collects the notes for safekeeping.

Day by day, he's seduced. 

your eyelashes are so thick I want to pluck them off to make wishes. I would be the most powerful man in the world

"Creep."

I think your dick is the most beautiful thing after your eyes and your face too I guess

Landon chokes out a sharp noise of disbelief and shakes his head as he crumbles the note and tosses it. Offense is definitely the emotion he's feeling as he stands there with clenched hands.

But then he goes over to pick it up with his ears feeling hot. Jeremy's rough voice and expert handling of his cock comes to mind...he shakes his head again. 

Another day.

My world is blue. 

It causes Landon to frown, and his fingers twitch but he resists the urge to call Jeremy as he chooses to focus on his courseload instead at the kitchen table. 

He's already sailing ahead and mastering this field.

But he makes a detour to the wall, and adds the note alongside the other ones taped to the surface. One side of the four walls there's a collage of blue post-its with Jeremy's neat handwriting scrawled over them. Even this he does with precison, something that looks typed but the slight blur can be seen, the manmade lettering from a person so intense that the ink bleeds so deeply with a tremble from an urgent pouring of emotions.

Landon almost calls him again so he forcibly sets his phone aside. 

This isn't playing hard to get or a want for the man to prove himself, but Landon needed a purpose, so he knows his love is managable. 

Too much will cause destruction and the last thing Landon wanted was for them to end up too consumed they wouldn't be themselves when it mattered. 

Love is personsable.

If he gave too much all at once then he's sure there will be a need for space so he's adjusting to that for furture reference.

But the divorce documents are still downloaded on his laptop. 

And he pulls them up on the screen knowing Jeremy's watching. 

A sign that they need to talk about this sooner or later.

What he gets is a knock on the door fifteen minutes later.

Slowly to not seem too eager he gets up, and peeks out the peephole.

A blond head.

Disappointed, he opens the door.

Ilya shoves his way inside, and storms up to the kitchen table and he's walking back to the door with the confiscated laptop.

"Hey," Landon says, not really sure what the fuck Ilya thinks he's doing.

Ilya shoots him a neutral look as he guards the laptop from him.

"I was given ord--"

"I don't bloody care! I need that for work! Give it back," he doesn't snatch it since his orders are weighty too, and he stares hard.

"Can you delete the divorce documents?"

"No."

"This ends in death," Ilya says shortly. 

"Who's going to bloody execute me you or Jeremy?" Landon asks coldly. 

Awkwardly, Ilya shifts on his feet, but then his posture straightens and he says all dead inside like he's reading off a teleprompter.

"Your absence at the company has been detrimental to morale. Jeremy hasn't been sleeping or eating well and he takes his anger out on the men. They can understand why, so they're not revolting against the treatment, but there have been complaints and that means soon people will try to sow discord. Jeremy isn't in a state where he'd care...he'll just kill whoever he deems a threat and a threat can be someone breathing too loudly in his presence."

Landon blinks.  

Then his entire mouth curves upwards with a slight wobble. 

"No," Ilya says, suddenly looking horrified then he dashes out with the laptop.

Alone, Landon laughs, all high and giddy.

Certain that Jeremy's still watching behind a screen.

His genuine happiness at the report he just heard from a clumsy stoic man trying to persuade him to return to his workplace for his boss.

But actually all of what was relayed to him was for his own benefit. 

Jeremy wanted him to know that he's miserable. And it makes Landon happy. 

The next day, his laptop is returned, no trace of the divorce documents can be found, and another note stuck on top.

Don't smile at other men

Written so harshly there's holes in the post-it. 

"Jealous prick."

I miss you, Landon writes in fancy cursive with an actual quill dripped in ink and he places it on the fridge that next morning. 

When he returns, the note is gone and inside the fridge he finds a red velvet cake with a heart shaped frosting on it.

Happy Anniversary, Kitten.

Smiling, Landon eats a slice. 

And then at night, he sends a fresh out the shower nude to Jeremy, and smirks as he heads to bed. 

Performances, Landon had forgotten.

If anything became stale then he just needed to go back to the basics, seduce his husband, flirt with him and remind him what he's missing.

He really wants to see Jeremy and lets it be known. 

A pining husband.

All the evidence is left behind for Jeremy, and now he waits.

Not that long since Jeremy texts him, I miss you and I'm going to jerk off to this sexy pic. thanks

Imbecilic beast, Landon huffs. 

Romance is dead and they're the ones who killed it. 

"What is love?" Sofia Banks asks.

"Self-destruction."

"What is love?" She asks another day. 

"Self-destruction."

Deep in his conscience it's a solid belief that can't be changed but she's trying to do as he asked.

"What is love?"

Five more times.

Different sessions.

"Jeremy."

"Jeremy?"

Shock or awe at the breakthrough. 

"Jeremy," he says because he's ready to self-destruct.

He misses his husband.

And his husband misses him.

So they should forget this nonsense and renunite already, but they're also both very prideful men, and the hurt they inflicted on each other was a betrayal.

And betrayal required vengeance.

It was who they were.

Landon doesn't want to hurt Jeremy so he plays a love game, wondering how to win with his husband coming back to him first.

So the cycle continues. 

And self-destruction is imminent. 

Saturday is sunny with no drizzle and Landon walks through the crowded streets with ease to meet his brother as usual for coffee.

Everything seems picturesque, but then a ping on his phone alerts him. 

His brows crease severely before his mind has processed what he's seeing.

Blatant blackmail.

So many candid shots.

Those that are heavily protected and highly secure are unguarded, their faces expressing their humanity as they exist with their vulnerabilites out in the open. 

Favorite shops, the dressing rooms, the cafes, the ballerina danceroom. 

A mother and wife-- a woman of great importance smiling over a cup of tea, alone while her husband conducts some business. Everyone knows the queen is the strongest piece on the board.

There are honor guards that are seen through the scope of a sniper. Look how easy it would be to take them out.

It's meant to cause pure distress. 

Yet his mind panics before he can really think, so the self-destruction happens, so abruptly.

Impulsively he follows the listed demands. 

Transferring as much USD as he can into a bank account without getting flagged for the withdrawals and desperately using an offshore bank to reach the criteria amount. 

Leaving his car keys near a newstands.

Dropping his phone alongside it, knowing that he's being watched, then calmly as possible waits at the bus station to be taken out of city limits.

Now he has effectively weakened himself.

But nothing in this world can shake him up this way. Jeremy's suffering was only his to cause and no one else's.

So he waits like a ticking time bomb. 

His actions all automatic like he's being controlled by a remote but he evenutally arrives at a junkyard.

The chaoticness of this disastrous place piled up with discarded junk reflects his inner mind and the anxiety warring with other emotions inside of him, but he's so cold and the false composure is about to fray apart.

A century passes in the abyss and he is nothing but the embodiment of human helplessness.

"Tried anything clever, and I would have taken Lia Volkov off the street. Her husband's older now and more old fashioned than he realizes. The older generation will have to make way for the new soon enough."

The voice shatters the silence and the woman arriving with an aura of faded light surrounding her takes out a pendulum to swing in front of his face.

Landon doesn't fight it as follows her instructions. 

"So," he says with false cheer when he slowly regains consciousness with cold lethal metal pointed at his temple. "Who sent you?" 

There's a sluggishness to movements akin to being drugged. But he's just exhausted. 

The hypnotist has a plastic smile on her face. "The Volkovs have much to answer for but you especially, Landon King." She doesn't shoot him, but she knocks the gun against his head. "Get up, you're coming with me." 

So she had done this to make him pliant. Instead of just taking him out when she should have she was letting him loose for a while longer, which was enough time for him to plot. 

"I'm not a fool," she tuts at him. "I've had you under for hours, Landon King so I know how your mind works and your darkest secrets. So don't think you can outwit or overpower me."

"Since I'm at your mercy, share your evil machinations with me, pretty please," Landon says, stumbling a little against her. Belatedly realizing that his wrists were cuffed together. But everything is so dull, the world, emotions and any sense of urgency.

"Fine," she says with a grin and he realizes with a distant pang of emotion that he'd been a moron. She looks like a fucking lizard. Her glasses are huge over her oval face, so her brown eyes looked wide and innocent, but now they were distinctively cold. 

But there was a madness on her entire face, someone that wanted more than revenge.

As she monologued, he started noticing her signs of insanity.

Loneliness and grief combining to a path of destruction. 

And he listened, even with his mind taking a second longer than necessary to process.

The wannabe assassin had been too terrified of Landon thinking he was some cat with nine lives, so she decided to get through to his head and weaken him that way, and also as a safeguard in case Jeremy found out, because he was the one she wanted to avoid throughout this operation.

But she wanted to give Jeremy Volkov pain. 

And Landon King-Volkov was the only person that held the power to do so, and it helped that he was a valuable asset in other ways too. 

His mind.

She wanted access to that so she would have to drill him repeatedly whenever he was deep in his subconscious, unaware of the outside world. The secrets and knowledge, not only for his husband but the King dynasty. It would provide her with the resources she desperately needed since she was the sole survivor of her family.

The family that Landon King took from her by deciding to wipe them out because of a blood fued that had nothing to do with him. If she hadn't been studying abroad she would have been caught up in the domino effect every one of her Made relatives were going through, dropping like flies. As a woman she wasn't integrated as a mafia person, but she was still dangerous because of her bloodline. 

"Heartless monster," she sneers at him as she ties him to a chair in a warehouse. And she continues raging outloud to her audience of one. 

Jeremy Volkov would suffer. 

A man that deserved death for weakening her family first, and causing destabilization. 

V Corp was built on blood money and yet the Volkovs could go on living like they were superior because of their connections. 

Sofia Correli despised them. 

The Bratva and the Kings. And she had the most powerful one in her grasp to make demands. 

Landon King-Volkov.

She slaps him in the face with the gun but his eyes only peek open blearily, unable to feel the pain. But it will catch up to him later. 

"You're going to die last," she swears. "Jeremy Volkov will see his world fall apart before you follow him next. Think of it as mercy for allowing you to go to hell together."

Landon grumbles. 

"Why the fuck are you married to him?!" She cries. Seemingly envious now despite the hatred. "You're a King, one of the most respectable people in the world and he's a devil. Why did you do that to my family?! They suffered enough with the failed engagement!" 

"....Je..."

"Answer me!" She tugs on his hair. 

"Jeremy..." he recalls the Correli's plan to ambush his husband. So he took them out first. 

"Fuck him, and fuck you!" She drops his head and it lolls back with no support. 

Two hours later, the world blows the fuck up. 

The cars that surround the warehouse she's been using as a base don't seem to make it in time as the bomb goes off.

But it was a small one. 

Sofia wanted Jeremy to experience pain, even from a theatrical death scene.

He would think he lost Landon King, and she smirks. 

So everyone thinks he died in the explosion that's on the other side of the city. 

A decoy that stages an event for one of the sharpest minds in the underworld.  

And Jeremy's strategic mind couldn't even find the one he loved.

So he wasn't invincible after all. 

"He won't be able to think through his grief," Sofia chuckles. "I destroyed his mind and yours. So you're nothing, but vessels now."

Landon doesn't know what's happening, and that adds to her pleasure. 

"I could have brainwashed you," she says, petting his brown hair. "Made you my puppet but I like knowing you're trapped inside wanting to break through to save your husband. You think you're some god but you're as mortal as the rest of us, King." 

Then the world blows up again, but the scale is that of a ringing gunshot and Sofia falling over as the bullet passes through her shoulder. 

Without thinking further, she runs. 

Because Jeremy Volkov is here.  

But she could have sworn he had tracked the other warehouse since all of Landon King's belongings were there. His fucking car, his watch, any item that could have hidden a tracker she had stripped off him and dropped them there for Jeremy to find. 

Yet. 

She runs. 

Needing to survive.

Because her mission wasn't completed.

This was just phase one. 

However she presses a button to set off another explosion because she has been paranoid for years she's always had a backup emergency plan. 

The warehouse doesn't collapse but the lights shatter and the foundation shakes with a shuddering impact.

There's no rubble, but Landon King isn't braced to protect himself so he falls over on the pavement with a resounding crack to his skull that sickens anyone hearing it. 

Jeremy Volkov runs over with fury and grief before he's checked his vital signs. 

And the coma well, that's just a side effect of that whole ordeal.

A stroke of luck for the enemy. 

Or bad considering she just lost her biggest piece.

Landon's been protecting him. 

The colors on the flat-screens covering up the wall of the Bratva headquarters display all of Landon's intricate plots, but only a particular mindset can understand what he's done.

Be it killers.

Cunning businessmen with hostile takeovers as a constant and victorious solution. A shadow leader of a corrupt organization. The encompassing of someone with no morales but still a clever developer building something out of the ashes rather than smiting everything so there were still available pawns to exploit. 

When Jeremy discovers how far Landon has gone, he feels choked up. His brain analyzes all the threads, the smaller plots underneath the risk and rewards. Deaths. Fueds. But all taken care of with seemingly no loose ends.

His father and the seniors of the Bratva are visibly weary, shadows over their lined faces as they all stand in a circle looking at the construction of an empire. 

The new era is leaving them behind and the newer generation has done things in a shorter time than what they've been able to accomplish in their whole life operating their mantles, but this legacy was the one they've built and strengthened for their heirs. 

"Landon is a Volkov," Adrian claims with some pride and a dark undertone. He and Jeremy are similar, and he's seen what Landon has done, understands the power, but mostly acknowledges his way of loving someone. 

"He loves me," Jeremy says, not caring for much else. 

It's a slow realization that enrages him because he really is the same as everyone else.

No wonder Landon had looked so disappointed. 

He had seen Landon. All of him and took that for granted because he assumed that his lust was all that fueled him when it came to their passion. He enjoyed all moments with Landon, but felt as if he was a body that was instrumental to his needs. 

It's love, not just an obsession. 

Their love. 

Jeremy doesn't lose his composure in the room full of veterans despite wanting to violently trash the equipment. 

Adrian looks at Jeremy though with an arched brow. "I told you he wanted to harvest my organs, son."

"He wanted to use your parts to create another me," Jeremy says, understanding Landon so well it's like their souls are linked. 

But maybe that's why he'd been blinded  

He'd made an assumption that fueled his emotions so intensely the logical part ceased to exist.

His husband is still in a coma though, so he can only visit and try to bring him back from his inner demons  

Demons he wanted to eradicate because they had nothing on Jeremy and what he's done. And he needed to save Landon so he can love him the way that show'll him how fucked up they were for each other.

Landon hardly remembers it.

But Jeremy had seemed to believe he was keeping secrets so he practically hacked into all of his devices to learn what he was up to, and had been more pissed off to discover exactly what Landon was doing spending time with Sofia Banks. 

Sofia 'Banks' was a transfer student from Italy and had years of psychology under her belt before joining Landon's class, and she had gotten close to him with revenge in mind. Her identity was uncovered when Jeremy works with the Kings at V Corp, all having flown to New York to combine their resources. 

"He's killed so many people," Levi says with utter devastation when the motive becomes known. 

The truth couldn't be concealed from anyone in the room so the ruling men of the King dynasty are exposed to Landon's deeds. 

Jeremy doesn't share the same bindings of morality. Though he knows they're relieved that Landon was saved from a worse fate, there's a profound silence of mourning someone passing through them, even Eli King looks slightly disturbed. 

But Levi storms up to him and Jeremy takes the punch to the face gracefully. 

"I told you! You were no good for him!" And he rears up for another punch but Aiden steps in, taking his cousin's arm. 

"Worry about this later, we need to focus on locating the person responsible."

"He's responsible for this!" Levi accuses, pointing at Jeremy with a rageful but heartbreaking look. 

The man realizing he might not understand his son as much as he thought. Crying inside while letting his anger out so he doesn't fall apart. The Kings don't like him, but they're here for Landon and that's enough. 

But Landon's his and he loves him the way that he is, just as dark and ruthless, so they would always be together, even in the afterlife. 

He only wished Landon hadn't gone behind his back when making these decisions. Working together would have been more foolproof and this situation could have been avoided. The sting of betrayal is sharp. 

"I want my son back in my custody effective immeadiately, and I will call up all the lawyers I can if I need to," Levi decides. "When he wakes up, you're breaking this off." 

"I'm honoring my vows, and he won't want to wake up separated from me," Jeremy says darkly. 

"If you love him then let him go, because you've done enough." Levi doesn't understand. He will never get it because there's still a layer of goodness in him. Did it have to do with being a father? Because Jeremy doesn't think love makes you a better person, but it makes you stronger, and embraces you. 

He doesn't want to change what he and Landon have at all, but he wants to lock him up in their house so he doesn't do this shit again. Leaving him alone for even longer than he needed to. 

"My husband is in a coma," he tells them. "And I intend to kill this woman. You would do the same for your son."

But Levi shakes his head. "She's a victim."

Landon was the monster in her story. 

The man doesn't have to outright say but the meaning lingers up the air. 

Jeremy doesn't give a single fuck and this makes him progressively colder to the man. "The men in this victim's life are similar to any other monster you scorn, they are vile and cruel, but live out a pretense of being happy family men. It's unfortunate that she's related to them, but this is the mafia world where the laws are different. Each and every one of your children are all interwoven in this even if you want to pretend otherwise. At night they all sleep next to murderers, and no willful ignorance will change that." 

Jeremy loves Landon and will defend him, even from his own father. 

And Levi screams at him in agonizing fury. In denial. 

Punching Jeremy in the face again. The last time he allows it because he won't take another unnecessary beating from the man. 

Aiden steps in, while Eli drags Jeremy out of his own office to seperate them.

"Act like you have a shed of humanity left," Eli tells him, seeming repulsed by his presence. "Landon needs his father and you're not taking that away from him."

"What Landon needs is understanding yet no one has tried to really see him. Changing him to suit your ideals isn't going to make him happy."

Eli shoves Jeremy up against the wall and backs away as if he can't stand being too close.

But Eli considers him fully. 

"My dad has tried to help him," he says. "Because like you said there are rules in this world. Not just yours but in ours, too. If Landon was left up to his own devices he would have done this sooner and not have been so clever about it because as much as he claims to be a genius there's some naivety to him when it comes to people. And I think you're the worst decision he's ever fucking made."

"My family love him," Jeremy says. If the Kings don't want Landon then the Volkovs will take him, and he already belonged to Jeremy. But Eli slams a hand on the side of his head, staring at him with a loathsome look.

"He has a family that loves him," Eli says. "Uncle Levi is in so much pain because his precious son has cut him out of his life entirely instead of confiding in him. They could have worked this out together, but your love is a destructive force hellbent on destroying anyone in your path you deem an obstacle. I hate you for him, but I know he will never find another person that'll fully understand him, which is why Uncle Levi is so hurt. His son deserves better, but it's you." 

Tension radiates in the ensuing silence, waiting for a spark to set it off, but Jeremy doesn't remain there. 

He only wants one King breathing next to him right now. 

While Landon is in recovery from his sustained injuries, the head wound and the bruises, Jeremy is desperate for a target to raze in the pits of his rage. 

Sofia Correli was elusive. 

He spent weeks hunting her down after she had gone into hiding. She was a mole who kept popping up and disappearing underground where he couldn't find her.

Though he hadn't wanted to leave Landon's side for more than he can bear.

The hospital building is one of theirs, so no one can enter without him knowing their intent. Every face belonged to a Family that were on good terms with him, and their relatives.

A private and secured facility monitored by his honor guards.

Astrid visits with her husband but Levi sits outside with Brandon.

Jeremy is upset to say the least. And makes it known. Brandon yells back at Jeremy, defending his own father. 

"Can you two stop fighting?!"

It's Astrid that blows up at them after she's left Landon's room. But she's directing her words at Levi and Jeremy as she rubs Brandon's shoulder to calm him down, setting him aside so she stands between her husband and son-in law. 

"You would think being concerned over Landon would bring you closer together." 

"He's the reason why our son is in this state."

Jeremy doesn't argue because it's true. 

"Landon is an autonomous human being," Astrid says, voice cracked. Tears in her eyes but determination set in her jawline. "He's too much of a King, Levi and my son, so he was always bigger than this world, and we risk losing him if we don't get our act together. He needs us." 

"We've already lost him," Levi says. But he looks away, misty gaze set upwards. "I don't want to watch him slip away even more, so I don't know what to do."

"You could go inside," Jeremy says angrily. "He's reacted to everyone else." 

Levi doesn't respond for a moment but then his shoulders sag and he looks the more than weary, resigned and burdened, his head falling between his hands. 

He weeps. 

Astrid comforts her husband, and Jeremy is dragged away by a different King this time, one that isn't disgusted or resentful of him, but still angry nevertheless.

Brandon doesn't push him, but he gives him a cold look, eyes red-rimmed, but glacial. 

"Tell me the truth and I'll convince my father that there's some good between you and Landon," Brandon says. 

"I don't care for Levi."

"You should, because he's here to stay."

Jeremy sighs explosively. "What do you want to know?"

"Are you actually in love with Landon?" 

Jeremy stares, rage boiling inside of him, and the only reason why he doesn't punch Brandon in his arrogant face is because he looks so much like Landon although he would never mistake them for one another. Instead he turns around and punches at the wall, his knuckles bleeding from the impact.

Breathing in and out to compose himself doesn't work so he slams his fist into the wall again, but he thinks of his husband in a coma and his father sitting outside crying, and stops. 

He isn't calm, or settled since he's still trembling with his rage, but his mind is clear and his voice is practical, cold and lethal, but full of logic.

"I'm able to think through a strategy with the world on pause around me when it comes to Landon, so I'm quick to see what he's thinking and I invent contingencies around that. My plans revolve pleasing him and ticking him off, so I become a constant for him that he needs to obsess over.

There's a tracker in his wedding ring. And I let him do whatever the fuck he wants to me when it comes to sex because I want him dependant on me, and the look in his eyes...it drives me crazy, no matter how he's staring at me." 

There's pending silence as Brandon mulls over that then he sighs in defeat. "My dad won't ever accept your relationship." 

"I know that," Jeremy snaps. 

"I don't only mean because you're mafia, but my brother would want to protect you too since you're his to worry about. I know Landon, but growing up with him still didn't make me realize until much later that some of his cruelty, and his long absences are his way of focusing on his loved ones...in the only way that he can. The lengths he went through to protect you...it's not humane." 

"He's mine," Jeremy says, not defending Landon, but claiming him since if no one wanted him, he'd be there for him till the end even if they were alone together in the world. 

Brandon is quiet for a moment. "It took years for me and Landon to mend our brotherhood so I'm not letting him go. I understand him too, Jeremy. You're not the only one who loves him. I know his justifications for doing these things now. He cut off Dad for you and you didn't even ask for him to do that, he just assumed he was shielding you. Your love is...it's not like mine or Niko's where we compromise...you two just don't care!" 

Suddenly the anger catches up to Brandon but it's brief as the sadness overtakes him almost immediately, causing him to weep. Looking just like his dad. 

"I miss him." 

"I'm sorry," Jeremy says. But because he's selfish and in need of confirmation. "Has Landon ever told you he loves me?" 

Brandon scoffs through his tears. 

And they do nothing for Jeremy. No urge to comfort overcomes him. Brandon and Landon didn't have the same eyes and Landon had a mole under his right eye that Jeremy wanted to kiss sweetly.   

"I thought he loved you from the very moment he sat there in the dining room with our family divided against you, because he seemed so young, Jeremy. He couldn't defend himself or you because he was scared of losing you yet scared of disappointing our parents, for the first time he seemed uncertain," Brandon says. 

Uncertain.

The poker face as his eyes darted around but not understanding the tension or how to react, especially in a room full of people he knew. 

Jeremy remembers, and he had gone back to tell the Kings that Landon was his regardless, indefinitely, and he'd make him choose if he really wanted. 

And he punches the wall again. 

This time he cries as he leans against it.

The tears don't fall but they're clinging to his lashes and burning hot. And all he can think about is how he hurt Landon repeatedly because of his own aching pain. Not understanding Landon when he'd been so perceptive over everything else regarding him. 

It's because Landon had been like this during their sex escapades before the marriage. The obsession had been building through the lust and hatred but the feelings had always been there. 

And he and Brandon stand there and wait in silence.

The silence that is Jeremy's anguish as he crumbles. 

A phone call distrupts them a moment later, the ringing shattering the thick heavy silence, and Jeremy quickly slides back on his mask.

Vaughn doesn't greet him, simply relaying coordinates. "I need you sharp," are his parting words before he hangs up.

And Jeremy's mind is the sharpest it's ever been as he finally hunts down the mole rat in her underground tunnel to torture, and kill.

An insignificant death that does nothing for him.

The woman had seemed to lose her mind towards the end anyway.

Whatever her plans were they were never coming to fruition because Jeremy had used all the information he had gleaned from her frothing mouth to dismantle all of her operations. 

"I love you," Landon confesses into Jeremy's hair with a sob, heart the opposite of calm and mind at war with everything coming back to place. It's been there, but these feelings terrify him, so he's wanted to push them back. Regret isn't the sensation that overcomes him though. But completion. He won't have nightmares over any of his actions because Jeremy's still here with him. 

And he hugs his husband so tightly like he wishes he can press Jeremy into his chest and keep him internal forever.

So they can never part again. 

During the plane ride talking is all they do until Landon's exhausted and falls alsleep before they arrive at the airport.

What he recalls is the anger--- no worry over his protective empire, the one he built for Jeremy, they talked and talked, and eventually Landon promised he wouldn't make foolhardy decisions to which Jeremy said, "You can protect me, but I will protect you while you do it, so you have to share your plots when it comes to world domination." And Landon promised, unable to say no to those abandoned kitten eyes.

When Ilya picks them up hours later at the airport, it's so early the sun hasn't risen yet to drive them home, Jeremy wants to have another thorough conversation. 

"I miss your voice," Landon yawns. "But I don't want to talk about work."

"You based your new purpose on protecting me," Jeremy ignores him. "Is that why you retired?"

"Sculpting has lost it's flair for me before I met you," Landon assures. But his husband had been without him for a while he so tries to find the proper words to cure his doubts. "I'm literally a god with the art genius genes from my mum, so there's a stagnation in progress, especially since there's nothing I need to improve on. I never had a burnout nor do I ever lose inspiration. It's simply the world around me that has lacked the signficant charm to woo me. I still enjoy it, but it's not my life passion."

"Are you afraid of the man you have become being expressed through your art?" Jeremy seems to have been thinking about Landon's art more than he himself has. But there's an underlaying of vulnerability in his voice.

The realization creeps in. It's not just because he's misguided and blaming himself for Landon's decision to quit his artist career, but the concept of a muse.

A muse is an artist's love, but it's not always profoundly romantic, rather it can be idealistic or even dangerous. There are mad scientists, and like-minded artists with a deranged madness to them which had been Landon as he became utterly obssessed with exposing people's monsters.

Since he had to hide and suppress his true nature and tendencies he started looking at neurotypicals who were treated normally and enchanced their flaws through his sculptures so their insides matched their outsides. 

A muse to him was a plaything or a neccesary instrument for his sudden bouts of creativity. Though none lasted too long and he considered the statues flops while everyone else put them on a high pedastal to be exalted.

Mia gave him colors but Jeremy gave him dimensions, another plane of insight regarding the soul.

"Darling," Landon says warmly. Setting his head down upon Jeremy's shoulder to rest. "You're on the right track, but I would only be creating a thousand of inferior copies of you instead of anything else."

"And your favorite color?" Jeremy ask quietly.

"Hellfire. Your eyes. My personal hellfire." He hums into Jeremy's shoulder. He decided to name it since that meant he owned it. Jeremy doesn't react for a second then he laughs, a dark rasp with the heat of smoke.

"Yours," he says happily, and he's more relaxed after that over the art. 

But if his husband required a physical representation for evidence then Landon would have filled their home with a thousand statues to immortalize his feelings. Instead Jeremy believes his words with utter faith, trusting in the moment. 

(Jeremy)

It's the most romantic declaration a man like Jeremy can receive and it ebbs away any lingering insecurity because it's his husband's way of claiming him.

Hellfire.

Burns so hot that no human can withstand it, a place for a devil to feel right at home and it's not grey because fire doesn't have a temperature that burns that color, but Landon King-Volkov is an artist, if he says hellfire is grey then it's fucking grey.

Correction: Jeremy's artist. 

Clarification: Landon Volkov is how Jeremy thinks of of his husband, but he had fell for Landon King and didn't want to take anything away from him. Being possessive made the surname dilemma difficult to overcome, but Landon's a King.

Although he would have been more suited for the Volkov family 

Unfortunate fact: Landon loves his family.

But they're the reason why Landon believes love is conditional, so Jeremy struggles with being unbiased.

It's Landon's worldview that dictates his intepretation of love but Jeremy is singular and intense. He doesn't blame Landon, but the Kings.

As much as they're the epitome of good parents, and Landon had turned out to be an extremely highly functional individual there's an unwillingness to give any of that credit to his parents.

Not when Landon has hidden himself away, so they're only aware of the mask he puts on for them.

He had been independent for far longer. 

Fact: Jeremy is biased when it comes to Landon but he doesn't care, however this creates an issue.

He wants Landon happy and that includes having his parents in his life even if his brain warps that love to be a necessity instead, a formula for a certain function, but if they weren't good parents then Landon wouldn't have tried so hard to be favored by them.

After contemplating, Jeremy pulls out the drawer of the nightstand and grabs the brand new phone with a protective screen he'd purchased after discovering the cracked one in the attic. A tracker is already embedded inside and after turning it on he places it into Landon's loose fingers. 

"Call your dad."

"I don't feel sorry," Landon murmurs as he handles the phone with some reverence. "Not in the slightest."

"You miss him," Jeremy says because he knows Landon so well. But he adds, "The whole family should see how happy we are, let's rub it in their faces."

Petty is the last thing Jeremy is when he already has Landon, but he tries to convince his husband in a way that would tantalize his narcissistic tendencies. He does enable his worst traits. But he controls them too, just finely, so Landon is himself and only manipulated into doing things that Jeremy is sure he'd inevitably realize he wants to do. 

Jeremy doesn't have the power of foresight but his brain sharply works through scenarios with calculation in a pace that isn't much more rapid than Landon's own conductive thoughts, but he doesn't struggle with emotions and can regulate so it gives him the upperhand sometimes. And he's been studying Landon for years. 

While Landon is still catching up, Jeremy's worked through a way to trap him. 

Landon knows this, has known this coming into their marriage, but still hasn't acknowledged it.  

On the chessboard, he wins.

But in love, he loses. 

Yet he still had all that power over Jeremy.

"I'll organize a very extravagant banquet and call the press and hire some photographers so it remains evidently clear that I'm still the best one in my family when it comes to parties and hosting events," Landon says like he expected, but the smile over his perfect godly face isn't something he's ever prepared for. Despite how often he's seen it by now. 

The secret he keeps is that none of Landon's genuine expressions are anything he'll ever get used to as his heart does a trick in his chest every time.

But they're his, too, no one else sees this side of Landon, vulnerable with no mask and his underbelly exposed.

Just awkwardly smiling with a strain because of the stiffness.

The most beautiful smile Jeremy has ever seen.

So he kisses him. And Landon doesn't complain but he blinks in confusion. Always so confused by any romantic notion despite being in love and conditioned to Jeremy's presence and touches. 

Their intimacy is mostly lust based but the sentimental gestures has Landon bashful and confused, though what he considers sentimental tends to vary from others. It could be holding his hand or touching his feet. Sometimes it was a spank on the ass, or staring into his eyes as they fucked. It warms Jeremy's heart so much he thinks he's taking advantage, but Landon isn't an innocent. 

He's the same breed of monster as him.

But a beautiful one. 

Naked after drying up from a shower and with no intent of dressing up for bed, the time spent prepping will not be wasted, Landon leans back on his elbows and stares up, batting his eyelashes with a doe eyed look.

"Mr. Volkov, you won't hurt me, will you? I'm just an art st-"

Jeremy kisses him, not waiting for the lines to be completed. "Husband," he growls into the kiss. "None of this role-playing shit, I'm fucking my husband tonight."

"Ahh, you're no fun. So you weren't tempted to fuck my naive self?" 

"Naive? Landon, don't kid yourself now. I knew you were thinking about fucking me and running off after getting what you want. So of course I didn't put out." 

"You would have chased me."

"...I didn't want to scare you," Jeremy says quietly. "You weren't some innocent lamb, but you were still young with no handle on your emotions. Made me protective as fuck, so I didn't want to accidentally hurt you." 

"You spanked me."

"You liked it."

Landon ponders. "Eighteen year old me put a gun in my arse because he wanted you so bad."

Jeremy looks furious at the reminder. "You said no to fucking yourself so why did you play with your own ass like it was nothing?"

Embarrassed, Landon tries to look away but Jeremy's predicted it seconds ago and grabs him by the chin. "Landon," a demand but softened by urgency. 

"I hate masterbating," aware he sounds so immaturely young. "There are people for me to use so why should I do it all alone? It's a symbol of my desirability. I deserve to be given pleasure."

Jeremy doesn't laugh. He has another question. "Have you ever fingered yourself or put anything in your hole before I came along? Because you seemed to know what you were doing."

"I'm a fast learner, Jeremy. I only need to watch an instructional video to become a master pro." 

Jeremy lifts Landon up abruptly, and they're not on the bed anymore as he carries Landon over to the middle of the room with no support.

"Ride me," he says darkly. 

"What?" There's nothing but Jeremy to hold onto as he clings to biceps and wraps his legs around his waist. Jeremy's hands tighten over his thighs.

"Do it, genius. Gravity will bend to your will," Jeremy says.

"Fuck," Landon exhales, nipples tightening. "Jealous fucking prick. It's not like I got off to porn."

"Ride me like a pro," Jeremy says, and he drops Landon onto his dick with his hands lowering to his sides so Landon is hanging on for dear life. 

"Jer, my darling," he tries to be sweet as possible despite wanting to bite the fuck out of him. "I don't wanna fall, it's scary, please protect me."

It's exhilarating, but Landon's not about to wound up in the hospital again. He hates it there. 

Jeremy laughs, eyes smouldering and brows arched upwards in a taunt.

Evil as fuck, and hot as fuck too. His devil. He kisses Jeremy, and Jeremy holds onto him.

"I'll catch you," Jeremy promises, nuzzling their noses together. "Go on, ride me baby."

It takes all his strength and coordination but he figures it out, heels digging harshly into the small of Jeremy's back, and fingers clawing over his biceps as he rolls his hips up and down.

Jeremy's dick fits so snugly, and the man releases some guttural noises when Landon clenches around him. 

A slow grind to start the rhythm off before he becomes more daring, letting the gravitational force pull them together as he falls fully seated.

"Your dick," Landon says, a little light-headed. "Does it feel good? Not scared it'll break off."

"We'll still be one," Jeremy says, sounding wrecked. 

Landon really doesn't know what to do besides kiss him, and he tries to pour out all his emotions through their joining.

"I love you," he whispers vehemently into his husband's ear as he's licking it, not a confession but a vow of ruin. 

"I love you, too," Jeremy says softly, nipping alongside his jaw. "I'm crazy for you."

The riding pace becomes mellow instead of urgent, which Jeremy takes as sign to walk them over to bed and he fucks Landon there with reckless abandon, but looking him in the eyes throughout. Their orgasm barely registers to either of them since they're still rocking out the lingering wave of tension. Landon's nerves are sensitive but he doesn't want Jeremy to detach, so he clings and they cuddle in their filth, and their sweaty bodies aren't even uncomfortable. 

There's no prolonged afterglow or sweet pillowtalk because Jeremy demands, "Why did you see a hypnotist?" 

Landon doesn't hesitate. "I love you too much, and it unsettled me in ways I couldn't adjust to."

"I loved you longer," Jeremy says angrily, no, wretchedly and he holds Landon tightly. "I was always waiting for you to have real feelings for me that wasn't based on attraction, and I know that you need a fixation, but I still wanted more."  

"I'm not obsessed with sex," Landon clarifies. "I only have so much of it because I'm bored and it's the closest I ever get to feeling warm blooded like anyone else. You're...you're the one I'm attached to." His fingers trace over Jeremy's chest absentmindedly. "Your cock comforts me."

In his fucked up brain it was the closest organ to Jeremy's actual heart. 

The blood rush.

The vulnerability. 

Then the cum.

A fascination with being warm and held. The aftermath of being full and sticky. The only person he would allow to do those things to him was his husband. 

Jeremy doesn't apologize for his cruel assumption, but he crushes Landon into his arms, and kisses the crown of his head. Smushing their noses together afterwards to look him in the eyes. 

"Did you learn anything else?" He whispers into Landon's mouth. 

Landon nods, feeling shy. 

"Tell me."

"I'm not insecure, but I care too much about you. If I were to hurt you it'd hurt me more, but it wouldn't have been on purpose, and that scares me. The idea that I wouldn't realize if you were in pain because of me since I can't read emotions...but I know you, all your expressions. Though I'm still learning to differentiate the ones that look too alike." 

"You hurt me," Jeremy says immediately, all evil. 

Landon's lips tremble and his chin quivers.

"Here's a fact," Jeremy says, looking like he's in the one in agonizing pain when it's all in Landon's heart. "Your tears are hurting me so much that I want to kill someone, and I'm the one who hurt you the most, so I have to find a way to release that anger. It's never directed at you whenever you hurt me, instead I feel wounded."

"Isn't it terrifying...the way we feel for each other?" Landon asks, eyes stinging, fingers twirling Jeremy's hair.

It's short, cut at the sides so his ears are on display for Landon to bite and lick whenever he wants, but the front is longer. Usually it's slicked back. His forehead is hidden behind thick strands of hair falling over to his brows and for some reason it stirs Landon's heart like crazy, a sharp pain that twists. 

Jeremy seems so vulnerable despite his brutality and Landon only wants to keep him safe. 

So many enemies, so many things that could go wrong and that terrifies him. He wishes he could control every aspect of the board, so everyone has their assigned roles and he can defeat them the moment they try to become more than a pawn. 

"Being scared means you're aware you have something to lose, Landon,"Jeremy says, crushing him against his chest. "It's our nature, and we complete each other with the reminder that we're both very human. So don't leave me or you'll have no one else there in the dark with you." 

Jeremy's eyes are somehow both bright and dark.

Hellfire with different temperatures. 

Landon doesn't really fully understand, but he trusts Jeremy, so he listens to him. Attempting to sort through his words and connect them to his feelings. 

And that's their love.

Possessiveness and obsession, but trust and loyalty alongside it.

The tender parts existed so they weren't completely doomed.

"Do you want to marry me?"

A choked sound. 

"Landon..."

"I want a wedding." 

"Baby," Jeremy's all teary eyed, and this is Landon's revenge. 

The wedding will be super public with hundreds of attendees and the media to televise it.

Well, no, he wants a secret private affair.

Maybe he'll invite family. 

Or maybe not.

"Oh," Landon says aloud. "This whole proposal and marriage thing is harder than I thought. I can't decide--"

He's kissed stupid. 

"Will you marry me?" Jeremy asks when he's gained the upperhand.

"I asked first."

"And now I'm asking."

Landon could say yes but he doesn't want to. His lips purse. 

"You're rejecting me."

"I asked first, Jeremy," Landon says with arrogance. "Which means I'm better than you at this whole romance charade."

"Not a charade. It's real, and yes, let's get married, but will you marry me?" 

A giddy breathless laugh is let loose in an exhale as Landon shakes his head, but Jeremy makes sure to grab his cheek and hold his chin firmly in place so he doesn't try to hide.

"This is why I didn't want a wedding," Jeremy says with a rougher quality to his voice. "You're so beautiful when you're happy."

"So full of yourself," Landon says cheerfully. "Thinking it has anything to do with you."

"Saying this isn't for me?" Jeremy says darkly. "I could show everyone how happy I make you, and they'll have the evidence in case you ever try to lie and act indifferent."

Landon laughs freely. "You're so incorrigibly evil and factual. Here's a fact, Jeremy Volkov: you're my husband and I love you. How do you feel about having a wedding in our bedroom?" 

"You drive me so fucking crazy,"Jeremy says factually with a crooked smile and shiny grey eyes. "Okay, our lovely wedding will only be for us, and the pictures of how happy I make you, baby." 

Raising a brow, Landon doesn't protest but he kicks out his feet and giddily kisses his husband. 

(EPILOGUE)

A month later. 

"CAT EARS!!" 

Landon huffs and almost throws the canvas across the lawn but Jeremy stops him, looking pissed off. 

"I worked hard on that, you don't get to--"

"This is a child's drawing," he says meanly but Jeremy has damaged his dignity with this. He should have found another muse. Of course if that happened then Landon would have killed that person.

He softens and looks at the painting again, trying to be more appreciative. Jeremy has a talent with portrait sketches but if he draws anyone else Landon's going to kill him, so his sketchbook is heaps of Landon and well. 

Cat ears on top of his perfectly drawn wavy hair. Just as brown, but shaded to appear as sleek fur. His blue eyes were dilated too. And Jeremy had painted this from his memory, adding his own artistic flair which is his impression of Landon.

"I thought I was a dog," Landon says with that patient and warm tone. But Jeremy sometimes calls him that whenever Landon wanted to pant all over his ear and lick it. Not his fault it's cute and it brings out his aggression. 

"You're my котенок," Jeremy says, pleased by whatever he thinks is happening. "And I'm your devil."

"You just gave me an idea," Landon says, thinking about drawing Jeremy with devil ears later and maybe he'll make him look all slutty. Fuck, he's not hard yet but he might get there soon. 

"You're insatiable," Jeremy says, superhumanly perceptive. At least when it came to Landon. 

"Bend over, darling." 

"No."

"Ride me?"

"No."

"I'll play with you when you're sleeping," he promises. And Jeremy never says no to that as he shuts his mouth. 

"Not a conversation you should be having in front of your father," Levi King says in a strained voice.

Oh right.

Hardly a conversation for a family banquet. Landon had decided to host one to reward his family with his absolute presence, but he had to rebuild on some of the worn down pieces of his chessboard. 

He and Jeremy were giving Levi a grand tour of their home.

He has seen the art displayed in the shack that was supposed to showcase Jeremy's undying love for Landon.

And Landon has to regain his father's favor too.  

However, after Landon has given the best speeches of speeches to his gathered guests at the banquet table later, the tension erupts. 

The Kings sit next to their partners on one side while Brandon sits with his family on the side where Landon and the Volkovs are placed. Though Annika is with Creighton and Glyndon and Kill are next to Levi and Astrid. 

Aiden and Elsa are there with Eli and a pregnant Ava, who wanted to perform on her cello for them so Landon had set up a stage for her later, but first they're eating through the course meals that are being served. 

Light-hearted conversation sets off a spark. 

"What do you know about presentation?" Levi asks when Jeremy makes a seemingly innocuous comment. 

"I know about dead pigs," Jeremy says, gesturing to the ham. "And this doesn't look like one nor is it roasted, it's glazed." 

"That's because it's ham, darling," Landon says instead of being offended since he knows Jeremy is purposely trying to aggravate Levi.

But that has Levi loyally defending his son's honor. "My son curated the menu, you ingrate."

"I'm very grateful, and I'll show him how much later," Jeremy says nonchalantly.

"Mr. Volkov," Levi turns to the other devilish Volkov, and he says very seriously with no sarcasm. "Did you drop your demonic son on his head as a baby?"

The silence is deadly. Adrian's face turning dark while Lia drops her utensils with an ashen look.

Landon sighs. 

"When I was eight I set my school building on fire," he shares purposefully redirecting the attention. "I didn't have a good time adjusting to the world but I tried because you were treating me differently and I noticed."

"Lan..." Brandon speaks because of the boiling tension but Landon shakes his head. 

"I think we should all be honest," he lies.

"I don't love you any less," Levi says firmly. "You're still my son no matter what happens but I didn't want you to hurt anyone because of the consequences."

Landon nods. "See," he says, glancing around at the awkwardness settling over everyone except for Leigh who's eating her food with relish. "We made up."

"No, you didn't," Eli says, and throws down his napkin. "Hug it out."

"In the next meet," Landon says. 

Aiden sighs, long-suffering. "Levi, can you apologize to Mr. Volkov, so we can move on."

"No," Levi says coldly. 

But it's Lia who speaks up. "Sorry for the complications in your family, Mr. King, but have you seen my son with yours?"

"I don't need to, Mrs. Volkov," Levi says just as formally. 

"Levi," Astrid says in exasperation. 

"You should," Adrian cuts in sharply. "Your pigheadedness---"

"Oh, a real fight is about to break out," Nikolai whispers quite loudly, but it's a cue for him to take Leigh into his arms. "Come on, my lady we have flowers to pick, and butterflies to catch."

But Leigh stares around at everyone, finally noticing the unpleasant atmosphere.

"Papa," she whispers, "Uncle Lanny looks sad."

"How do you know that?" Nikolai could care less about Landon but his daughter was very attuned to his emotions.

"Daddy and Uncle Lanny look the same," she says vaguely, then she shouts, almost bursting Nikolai's eardrum. 

"UNCLE LANNY! KISS UNCLE SOURPUSS!" 

"It's Landon or Lan, my favorite princess," Landon corrects automatically, but he kisses his husband on the cheek. 

Leigh stares thoughtfully, brows deeply furrowed and her nose scrunched up.

Then a lightbulb seems to go off over her head as her eyes brighten. 

"YOUR TURN, UNCLE SOURPUSS!"

Landon rolls his eyes as he waits for Jeremy to kiss his cheek, and it's soft, but his mouth lingers, not eager to part.

In that moment, Landon feels his own lips get all stiff as they wobble, an expression setting over his face before he can stop it. 

A smile that crinkles his eyes and strains his facial muscles. 

Everyone seems to freeze.

"Wow," Killian says, breaking the awed silence. "You kinda look like Glyndon when you smile."

Glyndon releases a noise and quickly covers her mouth with her eyes popping out. Levi rapidly blinks and clears his throat while Astrid smiles widely, eyes bright and wet. 

"Shut up, Kill," Eli says, rolling his eyes. Ava snorts. 

"No, seriously. What?"

Brandon smiles. "We're related, so it's hardly surprising." 

"You don't smile like that, Lotus Flower," Nikolai feels the need to say. "Unlike your brother, you're beautiful--" 

"Get back to eating," Jeremy interrupts, knocking his hand on the table and he takes Landon's hand into his other one, interlocking their fingers together. There's a grumpy look on his face as he glares around. 

Landon looks down at his plate, not sure what just happened but choosing to ignore it as he holds his husband's hand and feels his chest curl with warmth. 

Nothing's perfect but it's mildly better afterwards.