"At least its Japan, not America" said Cirox to his father, you see Cirox never really made it his struggle or joy to care for what others thought, its was always his thoughts that mattered to him, i know so narcissistical right, and yet he was charming , well read especially in robotics , cybernetics ,Cirox is the kind of man who walks into a room and shifts the gravity.At 26, he carries himself with a quiet dominance that feels older, carved from years of violence, power, and the kind of wealth that doesn't need to be spoken aloud at 6'9", he is impossible to overlook, His body is built like a weapon,His eyes?Ice-gray, almost metallic, with a stare that makes people look away first. It's the look of a man who has seen too much, done too much, and feels too little. A man who could command an army with a single, quiet word.
His Father naturally was worried , not for him of course but for the town that is going to be his new hoe, Tokyo is not new to Cirox, in fact he spend most of his childhood there and it being where his family runs a robotics syndicate where the real business is smuggling lithium and rare earths for billionaire experiments, see in this world knowledge is gold and if you can fund it make it and sell it. They thrived on Automata mostly , they even made children toys and nannies and with advanced A.I even invented sports using these automated life forms, of course none of this was government approved, only approved automata were allowed and that was majorly farming automata, or transportation sector models. This was a goldmine for the Cyberettis for decades alongside Fentanyl and other pharmaceutical drop dead drugs. Cirox was leaving Italy, no, farewell party,like a thief in the night , as he went to the g wagon to catch his pilot, a phone call, its his brother Varrio urging him to take him with him he would like to work on his automata skills and he is willing to start thinking in alignment to his talents, you see Varrio, he was keen , nerdy i might say but every inch mafia, he cared little of money and just wanted to create and actualize his wickedness, and genius away from their father and this was his opportunity and with his rebel brother Cirox, there is nothing they couldn't do. Of course Varrio being the hopeful romantic persona he is he convinced Cirox with just that one phone call and finished to say he was already waiting for him in the plane with tits on his face and champagne to wait for his arrival.The two of them in Tokyo sounded sane since they sort of understood each other and Cirox knew he would need kin to trust. He arrived at the airport all sharp but utterly disturbed, he wanted to relax so badly luckily for him Varrio called his best girls for the flight and they were as juicy as he wanted them to be. Upon boarding they greet each other all huggy and noisily ..."i see you still care about me , some delicacies for me " he gazes the girls Varrio had invited to escort them to Tokyo.The hum of the plane was the first thing Cirox noticed low, steady, like a heartbeat beneath his feet. The backroom was narrow, dim, washed in a soft amber glow that clung to metal edges and threw long shadows behind him.He preferred shadows.He leaned against the cold steel wall, arms relaxed at his sides, posture deceptively casual. But every nerve was awake. He could feel the approaching footsteps before he heard them a soft rhythm, confident but cautious.Then she appeared ,Woman hired for discretion, not beauty, yet she possessed both. Dark eyes, glossy lips, curves wrapped in silk. She shut the door behind her with a click that felt final.Her gaze ran up his body slowly—starting at his boots, tracing the long line of his legs, pausing at the width of his chest, then reaching his face.Most people looked away when he stared at them.She didn't.
"Signore…" she whispered, voice warm with honeyed intention. "Un uomo come te… non se ne vede spesso."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
She wanted to please him. Good.
"Vieni qui," he said softly.
She obeyed instantly, stepping into his space. So small compared to him. Her scent rose—vanilla, smoke, something faintly floral. Her fingers brushed his jaw. Warm. Soft. Curious.
He didn't move, but inside, something dark and hungry curled awake.
Her lips hovered inches from his neck. He felt the warmth of her breath, heard the faint tremor in it. The plane vibrated beneath them, and for a moment he imagined the world dropping away, leaving only this room, this heat, this woman.
"Sei bellissimo…" she murmured, almost reverent.
He lowered his gaze to hers, slow and deliberate, letting his eyes travel over her face like a touch.
"Mostramelo," he murmured.
Her breath caught.
He felt it more than he heard it.
Then she sank lower—
not rushed, not nervous.
Willing. Intentional.
Her hands brushed down the sides of his thighs as she lowered herself.
The backroom vibrated with the grind of the engines, a metallic snarl rising through the floor and into Cirox's spine. The dim red lights flickered, painting the cramped space in the color of sin.
She knelt before him because he told her to.
Because people always obeyed him.
Her eyes lifted—dark, hungry, already ruined in the way he liked. He towered over her like a shadow, breath slow, jaw tight, pulse pounding hard enough to hurt.
"Guarda su," he growled. Look up.
His voice was a threat wrapped in velvet.
Her lips parted; she leaned closer, fingers gripping his hips as the engines roared again, the sound violent, shaking the metal racks around them. The roughness of the aircraft only pushed him deeper into that dark place inside,that cold, hungry place that wanted control, devotion, power.
He cupped her jaw in one huge hand, thumb dragging across her lower lip, feeling her breath tremble.
"Good," he groaned, a cruel heat in the word. "I want your mouth exactly like that,Now make it sloppy "
The plane juddered, a sharp mechanical rattle.
His body tightened instantly, a low curse slipping from his chest—
not from pain, but from the way the sound fed something filthy and possessive inside him.
The darkness in him purred.
She moved in closer, letting the vibrations guide her pace, letting the noise swallow her soft sounds. He felt the tension rise,hot, fast, brutal,his fingers tightening in her hair as the pressure built behind his ribs.
"Don't stop."
The command was low, dangerous.
Her breath hitched sucking and eyes teary from taking all that meat in her mouth
and that was it.
His control snapped like a wire pulled too tight.
A groan tore from him, deep and raw, echoing off the metal walls as the plane shuddered violently as if the machine itself wanted to witness him come all on her.
He kept his grip in her hair, holding her there, watching her through half-lidded, predatory eyes as the last tremor left his body.
Her face glistened in the low red light, smeared with a wicked devotion that made his stomach clench with lingering hunger.
She smiled,slow, submissive, proud
and he knew she would do anything he asked.
That took the edge off .