The penthouse was massive—more than just a show of wealth. It was designed for comfort, power, and quiet possession. Five bedrooms. An open-concept living room with a fireplace already lit. A sleek kitchen with a marble island. And tucked in one hallway: a child's room that looked ready to live in, loved, and never left to chance.
Aster had caught it the moment they entered. Finn had too, lighting up when he saw the toys, the warm blankets, the oversized plush bear waiting on the bed like it had been placed there just for him.
It had been.
But Aster didn't ask. He didn't want to know why Adrian West—cold, calculated, untouchable—had a child's room prepared before Aster ever agreed to come here.
Instead, he tucked Finn into bed, stayed beside him until the boy's breath evened out, then closed the door softly.
And made his way to the master bedroom.
Adrian was already there. Shirtless. Sitting in a low armchair by the fire, one leg draped over the other, a half-finished glass of scotch in his hand. The light flickered along the hard lines of his chest, the soft indent of his collarbones, the shadows under his eyes.
He looked up as Aster entered.
And the air changed.
It wasn't a look—it was a claim. A gaze that pinned Aster in place and stripped him bare before a single word was spoken. There was heat in Adrian's eyes—hotter than the fire, deeper than hunger. It was the kind of look that said mine without ever needing to say it aloud.
Aster's breath caught.
His pulse skittered.
Every nerve in his body woke up.
He didn't remember walking forward. But one moment he stood in the doorway, and the next, Adrian was rising from his chair—taller, broader, closer. Their bodies just inches apart.
Adrian's gaze dropped to Aster's parted lips. His damp hair. The way the thin shirt clung to his skin, still warm from the shower.
Then, finally, Adrian reached out and touched him.
A knuckle to his cheek.
Soft. Barely a brush.
But Aster swayed into it like a man drugged.
Then Adrian kissed him—and Aster drowned.
It started slow. Purposeful.
Adrian's lips moved against his like he had all the time in the world—coaxing, learning, tasting. His hand slipped into Aster's damp hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp, to open him wider.
And when Aster moaned, Adrian groaned against his mouth like it did something to him.
They stumbled onto the bed, mouths locked, heat rising between them until it burned.
Clothes came off fast—Adrian stripping Aster like he couldn't stand the distance anymore. Every inch of skin revealed made Adrian hungrier, more controlled in his urgency. He took his time. Even as his mouth moved lower—down Aster's neck, over his chest, between his thighs—he never rushed.
Aster was already shaking by the time Adrian's lips wrapped around him.
"Ah—"
His back arched, breath catching. "Wait—Fuck—"
Adrian held him down gently, tongue working in slow, devastating strokes, hands splayed over Aster's hips to keep him still.
It was too much. And not enough.
Aster's fingers fisted the sheets, his moans ragged and helpless, hips twitching with every flick of Adrian's tongue. He was unraveling, melting, the edges of his thoughts going white.
Then Adrian pulled away.
Aster gasped at the loss.
Adrian's voice was low and rough. "Lube's in the drawer."
Aster blinked—still dizzy, half-gone.
Adrian opened the drawer, pulled out a small bottle and a foil packet. Aster watched, breathless, as Adrian rolled on the condom to his massive member with one practiced stroke, slicked his fingers, and looked down at him.
"You sure?" he murmured, voice quieter now. Thicker.
Aster nodded before he could second-guess while praying that that huge thing don't break him in half. "Yes. I... please."
Adrian smirk and kiss him again. Slower now. Sweeter. His tongue teasing him.
Then his hand slipped between Aster's thighs.
He was gentle—too gentle at first, preparing him with slick fingers and patient pressure. Whispering praises as Aster whimpered, squirmed, adjusted to the stretch.
"You're doing so good," Adrian murmured into his skin. "So damn tight. So fucking beautiful."
Aster could only moan. and shiver. Damn, he can't help but shiver so much.
And when Adrian finally eased into him, slow and steady and deep—
Aster shattered. Figuratively and physically.
His hands flew to Adrian's shoulders, clutching hard, his nails can't help but scratch into Adrian's tensed muscles. Body instinctively curling toward the burn and the fullness and the overwhelming rightness of it.
Adrian didn't move at first. Just gritting his teeth from the tightness and breathing heavily against Aster's neck.
Let Aster adjust. Let him feel it.
Then he started to thrust.
Slow. Deep. Perfect.
Each stroke made Aster gasp louder, made his legs shake, made his mind blur with the slight pain and pleasure.
Adrian held him like something precious. Ruined him like something claimed.
"You're mine now," he growled. "Every part of you."
And Aster believed him.
He came hard—whimpering, breathless, clutching Adrian like he'd fall apart without him.
Adrian followed with a low, broken groan, burying himself deep one last time.
The silence after was too soft.
Aster blinked up at the ceiling, chest heaving, body boneless.
Adrian was already moving—pulling out gently, removing the condom, tying it off and disposing of it in the bathroom. He returned a moment later with a warm towel and cleaned Aster with quiet care, as if this wasn't just a transaction. As if this meant something.
Aster's face burned.
"I can do that," he mumbled, trying to sit up but his sore waist and buttocks refused first.
Adrian pressed a hand to his chest. "Lie back."
"But—"
"I want to," Adrian said firmly. "Let me."
Aster flushed even harder. His thighs trembled. Everything still ached—in the best and worst way—but it was the intimacy and utter embarrassment that made him squirm.
After he was clean, Adrian guided him under the covers, tugging the duvet up to his chin like he was something soft that might break.
Aster lay there, rigid, embrassed like hell and flushed, unsure of what to say.
Adrian slid in beside him. No words. No pressure.
Just warm skin. A steady heartbeat. A strong arm wrapping around his waist.
Aster lay still for a long time, eyes wide in the dark.
Then—slowly—he let himself lean back.
Let Adrian hold him.
Let the silence wrap around them like a second blanket.