General RP Mafia Debt (RhysTheFirebird)

[Kasumi]

Despite rambling a little on the topic of some of his favorites, he didn't shy away once. "Fish isn't so bad! I'll have to make you some good food. Perhaps some sushi... and Shephard's pie." It reminded him of how he was required to cook when first coming into contact with Dimitri, but he didn't mind. He enjoyed cooking. Things weren't like they were back then. "Or... Hm." He couldn't exactly take Dimitri to some of his favorite sushi spots... back in the city. He would have to go around with Kas to learn new places. "Wait until I try some good Japanese spots. Then I'll take you to try some sushi." If Dimitri truly didn't enjoy fish, then he could certainly find alternatives. Veggie rolls were a thing!

"Mmm, quite the stereotype. But tea makes everything better." He lit up then at the mention of sweets. "Oh! Yes, please~. I've tried one of those subscription services once to get some Japanese candy. Those were really good." He had tried it with his friends once. He wanted to try more but never found the time or money to do so. He wouldn't mind getting those candies again, either.

Soon the waitress returned with a tray of samples of the foods he had listed, plus some more. He easily pointed out the ones he knew of and excitedly dug in, not wanting to wait a second longer to try them. "Mmm, these really are good~."

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Dimitri watches Lee with quiet amusement, resting his chin on his palm as the other eagerly digs in. His blue eyes trace every flicker of excitement that crosses Lee’s face, noting the way his expression softens with each bite, the way his shoulders relax like he’s indulging in something truly comforting. There’s something oddly endearing about how easily food can make him so happy, and it tugs at something unfamiliar in Dimitri’s chest—something warm, something dangerously close to fondness.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice low, rich, watching the way Lee savors the flavors. “I’d hate for my recommendations to disappoint.” He takes a slow sip from his glass, his gaze never leaving the other, soaking in the sight like it’s more satisfying than any drink or meal.

Then, without thinking much of it, he reaches over, plucking a piece of pirozhki from the plate. He could eat it himself, but instead, he holds it up toward Lee, his fingers barely brushing the golden crust. “Here,” he says smoothly, voice dropping just slightly. “Try this one next.” His smirk is subtle, but his gaze is intent, almost testing, waiting to see if Lee will take it from his fingers, if he’ll hesitate or meet his challenge head-on.

 

[Kasumi]

At the other's musings, Lee smiled warmly at the other as he enjoyed the samplings. He hadn't noticed how the other was looking at him, how his gaze lingered. He was too focused on enjoying himself and some of the food from the other's culture. "Mm, definitely not!" He said before his focus fell back on the sample plate to look for something else to try as he finished the piece he was still working on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dimitri pick up one of the samples. He blinked and refocused on the other when he realized he was offering it to him.

Lee's features softened from a curious expression to one of warmth and ease. He grinned slyly then, reaching a hand out as if he was going to take the pastry from the other's hand. Instead, he gently gripped Dimitri's wrist with a hand and leaned in as he brought the offered hand closer to him. Hoping the other would still hold the pastry, he took a bite out of it, humming happily at the savory flavor. "Mmm, this one may be my favorite." The grin hadn't once disappeared, Lee's usual devious look about him. He was awfully curious how the other would react, his hand still on his wrist.

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Dimitri’s brow arched the moment Lee’s hand brushed his wrist instead of taking the pastry outright. His fingers twitched ever so slightly in surprise, but he didn’t pull back. No, he held still, letting Lee guide his hand closer. His gaze remained locked on the other’s face, watching the shift in his expression, the sly grin, the unspoken challenge in his eyes.

As Lee leaned in and took a bite, Dimitri’s breath caught just faintly in his throat, not that he’d ever admit it. The sight of him, so at ease, so brazen in that playful, teasing way, stirred something low in his chest. The content hum, the light pressure of fingers still wrapped around his wrist, it was all far more intimate than it had any right to be.

For a moment, he didn't speak. His cool facade flickered with a glint of something warmer, amused, intrigued, undeniably drawn in. “Is that so?” he finally murmured, his voice a little lower, his accent curling around the words like silk. “Then I’ll be sure to remember that, Sprite. For next time.” His eyes dipped briefly to Lee’s lips before returning to his gaze. He didn’t move his hand away yet, letting the moment stretch just a little longer, the heat of it coiled in the air between them.

Then, with a faint smirk, Dimitri gently twisted his wrist free, but only just enough to let his fingertips graze along Lee’s palm as he pulled back. “Careful,” he added with a soft chuckle, “if you keep looking at me like that, I might forget we’re still in public.”

 

[Kasumi]

Lee was relieved his little ruse hadn't been met with anger for touching without permission. He soaked in the other's surprise, how his mood slowly shifted. He took a moment to indulge in the offered pastry, savoring its different flavors: savory and slightly sweet.

"Mm~?" He hummed in amusement, letting that hand pull free. He lowered his hand, his eyes glancing over the sample plate before flicking back toward the Russian. "I'd be more than happy to skip to dessert. I think you're rather in the mood for that, too."

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

A few weeks had passed since that night at the restaurant. Lee, glowing with delight over a plate of samplers, teasing him with that devious grin. What began as casual flirtation had become. . . something else. Lee had settled into Dimitri’s life with surprising ease. Too easily, really. Like sunlight slipping through the cracks of his well-guarded walls.

Late nights once spent in silence were now filled with soft conversation, laughter, shared drinks, and stolen glances. Dimitri didn’t say it aloud, but he found himself listening for the sound of Lee’s steps around his estate, or waiting for the chirp of his phone announcing a message from him. He had started to notice little things: the way Lee hummed under his breath when cooking, the concentration in his eyes when he tried learning Russian phrases, the way he always seemed to know when Dimitri needed a distraction—sometimes playful, sometimes soothing. . . Though most of the time seducing.

And it unsettled him. Because he didn’t know how to handle softness. Or sweetness. But he was beginning to crave it all the same. That craving, however, had to be put on pause. Business had taken a sharp turn.

One of Dimitri’s smaller warehouses had been hit last night; precise, efficient, no trace left behind but the cold silence of emptied crates and two dead guards. It wasn’t just a robbery. It was a message.

A rival group. Young, brash, and stupid if they thought moving in on his territory wouldn’t be answered with fire. Dimitri stood now in the gutted shell of the warehouse, the scent of blood faint on the concrete, listening to his lieutenant rattle off updates.

His gloved hand ran over a scorched metal crate, jaw tight. Whoever this new player was, they had connections and weren’t afraid to make the first move. He’d need to strike back fast, and hard, before anyone got the wrong idea about who held power in this city. Still. . . as his men moved around the space, securing the scene, Dimitri’s thoughts wandered. He glanced at his phone briefly, thumb brushing the screen. No message. He frowned.

Lee was supposed to be at the estate—safe. Protected. But a small, gnawing unease twisted in his gut.

***

From the shadow of a narrow rooftop, Lorenzo watched the bright flicker of Lee’s phone screen as he strolled through a park just outside the edge of Dimitri’s estate.

Too far from the main house. Too casual. Too easy.

The hitman adjusted his gloves, crouched in the darkness, eyes narrowed behind the brim of his cap. He wasn’t bulky like most muscle men hired. No, Lorenzo was lean, patient, surgical. The kind of man who knew how to disappear after he carved someone out of their life like a ghost.

This job was different, though. He wasn’t meant to kill the boy. Not yet. No, his instructions had been clear: grab him, make sure he disappears quietly, leave something behind to let Dimitri know it was personal.

He watched Lee pause on a bench, smiling down at something on his phone. Probably messaging the Russian. Cute. Naive.

Lorenzo didn’t bother feeling guilt. He didn’t know who this kid was to Dimitri; boy toy, leverage, or just some unlucky soft spot, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was timing.

And the timing? Was just about perfect.

Lorenzo struck fast—silent and precise. As Lee turned to leave the bench, still distracted by his phone, an arm locked around his torso, pinning him in place. A cloth pressed to his mouth, soaked in chemicals. He struggled for only a second, eyes wide with panic, before his body went limp. Lorenzo caught him with ease, vanishing into the shadows without a trace, leaving only the boy's phone behind.

Lorenzo took the unconscious boy to an apartment and tied him up. He settled down to watch and wait.

 

[Kasumi]

Lee was beginning to appreciate the softer things in life. As a suicidal masochist, Lee had filled his life with danger: hard sex, drugs, and alcohol to numb everything. There was more to Dimitri, so much more than being a mafia boss. He would joke that the collar had tamed him, though it was Dimitri himself. Despite living together, the estate was rather large, and Lee often found himself texting the other to save himself a trip across the vast space to find out what he might want that night for dinner. Hell, it was nice to let the other know he was thinking of him.

Lately, Lee knew better than to wander off. Things were different now. He found he had no reason to run off for a distraction and get himself hurt. Though with Dimitri's latest work, he was worried. He had kept close to the estate, a park bench where he could try to ease his mind while the man was out, putting himself at risk. Being inside was too stuffy, he needed the fresh air. He had his phone with him the entire time, frequently messaging Dimitri to keep him calm and focused, something Lee promised he would do to ease him.

Letting a small sigh out, he felt better. Standing from the bench, he looked down at his phone, unable to hide a smile seeing it was from Dimitri. Relief, the man was alright. However, before Lee could respond - before he could take a single step from the bench, a strong arm came around his middle. The phone dropped to the ground as his focus went from messaging Dimitri to fighting back. The sudden struggle took him to a place he thought was long ago, the cloth over his mouth unexpected. He gasped in surprise, inhaling whatever substance soaked the rag. Quickly, he grew limp, unconscious, allowing his assailant to whisk him away.

Groaning, he blinked, finding himself in a familiar situation, only this time he was tied up. He spotted a figure sitting nearby, Lee tensing as he didn't recognize the man. ...Damn it. "What the hell do you want?" This better not be related to Dimitri.

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Dimitri stepped out of the car, the faint sound of tires on gravel barely registering as the gates to his estate creaked shut behind him. The evening air was sharp, but something felt wrong—off-balance. He noticed it immediately. The guards at the front entrance weren’t in their usual positions, and one was speaking hurriedly into a radio, his expression taut with panic.

His stride quickened, long legs carrying him across the courtyard like a storm gathering speed. Where’s Lee? The thought came unbidden and stuck like a thorn. Normally, Lee would be there to greet him—smiling, teasing, probably with some ridiculous sweet drink in hand. The silence was too loud.

As he stepped into the foyer, chaos met him. People moving too fast. Security footage being rewound on monitors. Voices raised, doors opening and slamming. Dimitri’s calm, icy mask started to crack.

Then Nadia appeared at the end of the hall, her usually composed expression drawn tight. One look told him everything.

“Where is he?” Dimitri asked, his voice low—dangerously so.

She hesitated. “We don’t know yet. He was taken. We found traces in the park. Chloroform. No sign of struggle.” The silence that followed was deafening.

Then Dimitri snapped.

The crystal glass in his hand, which he had picked up for a drink from a side table, shattered as it hit the wall with explosive force. He turned, flipping the nearest table, papers and dishes crashing to the ground. His eyes blazed like blue fire, wild with a fury no one in the estate had ever seen before, not even during executions.

“How the fuck did this happen?” His voice roared through the hall, venomous and raw. “Where was the detail? Where were my eyes on him?”

Nadia stepped back slightly, hands up in a gesture of calm. “We’re combing everything, his phone was left behind. If he's alive. We’ll find him.”

Dimitri was breathing hard now, pacing like a caged predator. His control, normally the steel that held his empire together, was gone.

“If?!” he spat. “He better fucking be. Because when I find who touched him, they won’t get to die quickly.”

Everyone in the room stood still, knowing better than to speak. Dimitri wasn’t the polished, charming figure they all knew. This was something darker. Something that had only existed in whispers and fear.

***

Lorenzo leaned back in the chair, legs crossed loosely at the ankle, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows across his angular features. The flick of his knife continued in a slow, methodical rhythm—click, spin, catch—as if it were more habit than threat. He’d been in this situation more times than he could count, but something about this one felt… different.

The kid looked smaller in person. More delicate than he expected. Photos didn’t capture the way Lee’s eyes sparked even in fear, or how the slight shake in his voice was layered with defiance. Most people woke up from chloroform gagging or crying. Lee woke up pissed. Lorenzo respected that. He finally looked up, meeting Lee’s glare with a calm, almost lazy smirk.

"Relax," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the calm of a man who never raised it. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up."

He watched the way Lee’s body stiffened, the tension in his jaw. Spirited. That would either make this easier… or a whole lot more fun.

"Let’s just say you caught the wrong man’s attention... by getting too close to the wrong man." Lorenzo leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, the knife going still in his hand. His gaze narrowed slightly, more curious than cruel.

"But hey," he added, voice barely above a murmur, "it’s nothing personal. Not
yet, anyway."

 

[Kasumi]

Lee was quite oblivious to the riot taking place back at the estate. Ah, if only he knew how his sweet Russian reacted to finding him missing. Well, Lee knew, but it was different this time. Not that he knew. He only watched the knife flip about in his assailant's hand, the movements rhythmic, catching his attention. He shook his head, regaining focus. "How reassuring," he responded sarcastically. He tried to stay calm, though it was hard when his assailant wielded a knife, and Lee was currently tied up, unable to defend himself. He'd go kicking and screaming, he fucking swore. He would never go out so easily. As long as his attacker suffered to the end, he'd be happy.

He internally sighed, groaning softly. God damn it. Really? This was definitely about Dimitri. Hell, at this point, he'd be shocked if it wasn't. "Well..." Oof, he wasn't thrilled hearing the 'yet' part. He frowned, swallowing dryly. "If that's so, how about untying me? And then... tell me what you want with Dimitri." He narrowed his eyes, glaring.

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Lorenzo let out a soft chuckle, dry and humorless. He rose from the chair in one fluid motion, the knife now resting lazily against his shoulder as he paced a slow half-circle around Lee. His boots made barely a sound against the concrete floor, but his presence felt loud, oppressive.

"Untie you?" he repeated, mocking the suggestion with a tilt of his head. "That’s cute."

He stopped just behind Lee, close enough for Lee to feel the shift in air as he leaned in, voice low and silk-smooth at his ear. "See, I don't really do requests. Especially not from pretty little whores that get warm beds and sweet kisses from men like Dimitri." Lorenzo stepped in front of him again, crouching low so their eyes met. His smirk widened, but it didn’t touch his eyes—those remained sharp, cutting.

"You really think this is about what you want? Nah. You're just a loose end. A pressure point. A soft, breakable thing that’s gotten far too used to being protected." His knife tapped once against Lee’s bound wrist, not cutting, just reminding.

"You're leverage, sweetheart. And if Dimitri wants you back in one piece..." He stood, backing away. "He’ll play my game."

Then, a pause. A flick of his gaze as if reevaluating something.

"But hey," he added with a smile, "if he doesn’t... I’m sure you’ll still be useful. One way or another."

 

[Kasumi]

Lee tensed as the other moved, standing, knife still in hand. He was cautious, unable to defend himself, but ready. He took note of everything he could, where he was, the man's appearance, and how silent his footsteps were. Shit. That didn't help him if he tried to sneak around, if he somehow got free. As expected, the other wouldn't budge on untying him. "Oh, come on. I'm completely defenseless. You've got a knife. Really think I'm gonna try something while you have that on you?

Ugh, he really didn't like the other so close to him. The air felt so thick. He felt a shiver run down his spine as the other whispered in his ear. Whore, huh... He didn't take offense at that. Instead, he decided to play that angle. He waited, finding a chance to jump in. His features softened, "No, no... Of course not." It was never about what he wanted. Ah, if only he could grab the knife.

"Now, what's that?" Probably some sort of ransom deal. Perhaps he was working for someone, caught in the middle of some terrible dealings. Lee... didn't care. He knew he was at constant risk being with Dimitri, but if he wasn't so attached to the man... No. He could never leave him.

Useful, huh? "Yeah... You wanna see why he keeps me around? Gonna take me for a spin?" Maybe if he freaked him out enough, he'd decide to get rid of him. God, hopefully not permanently. He swallowed hard at such a thought, trying not to let his nerves show. Dimitri always pulled through for him. He just had to...!

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Lorenzo stilled at Lee’s words, his expression unreadable at first—flat, like a mask had slipped into place. But slowly, something else curled onto his lips: a lazy, practiced smirk. He turned back toward Lee, his gaze flicking over him deliberately, not with lust, but calculation. A predator reading his prey’s next move before it even twitched.

“Well, well. . ." he murmured, voice velvet-smooth, mock admiration lacing every syllable. “Looks like Dimitri’s little pet has claws after all.” He sauntered closer again, slow and measured, rolling the knife between his fingers as though it were part of his hand.

He crouched in front of Lee again, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You think I’m tempted?” His gaze dropped, raking over Lee with cold amusement. “You think I want to try you out, see what all the fuss is about?” A low chuckle escaped him, breathless and cruel. “That maybe I’m the type to get all hot and bothered by some pretty little brat with a sharp tongue and desperation in his eyes?”

He leaned in close, their noses nearly brushing. “Mm, maybe I am curious,” he whispered. “Maybe I want to see what Dimitri finds so irresistible.” His voice dropped lower still, a breath just against Lee’s lips. “Maybe I’ll use you up before he even finds your pretty little corpse.”

Then. . . he laughed. Not unhinged, not loud, just a smooth, cutting sound that sliced through the air between them.

“Or maybe. . .” he leaned back again, standing in one smooth motion, knife lazily twirling in his hand once more, “I’m not some sloppy dog chasing bone. Maybe I don’t need to fuck something to ruin it.”

He turned his back to Lee, strolling toward the far side of the room. “Keep playing, though. I like watching you squirm.” He paused at the wall, glancing back over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “Let’s see how much you’re worth when you’re begging me not to touch you.

"Because I don't fuck. . . I break."

 

[Kasumi]

Lee studied the other's face, looking for any sign that he might have surprised him. Pet- Oh, god, he was still wearing his collar. He was strangely comforted by that, as if he still had a piece of Dimitri with him. He leaned back some where he sat, not liking the closeness. He would wear the title proudly, much like 'whore.' "I don't know. Maybe you're pent up. When was the last time you got any?" He fully expected to be struck at some point, Lee unable to hold his tongue. He shrugged, letting him carry on, before getting close once more.

Ooh, Lee so had the opportunity to do something that would definitely get him hit. He held back, quite interested in the other's response. Curious, huh~?

Ah... Fuck. No. The other moved away, and Lee let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. At least he held the other's interest. Lee relaxed some, thankful for even that. "Who said I'd resist?"

God, he loved it when he shocked the other. "Maybe I'm looking to be broken," he mused, voice breathy, tantalizing. How arousing that look was...

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Lorenzo paused mid-step, spine straightening at Lee’s words. The smirk faded, not from offense, but from a colder, deeper place. His head turned slightly, just enough for Lee to glimpse the sharp angle of his jaw, the flash of something dark glittering in his eyes. Amusement was gone. What lingered now was a kind of slow, quiet calculation, like the moment just before a storm breaks.

He pivoted, returning with that same unhurried grace, but the energy had changed. Tension rippled in the air; subtle, suffocating. Like the pressure before a bone snapped.

Lorenzo crouched again, though this time there was no casual lean to his frame. He was still, perfectly poised, like a blade held in suspension. His voice, when it came, was soft. Too soft.

“You think this is a game, don’t you?” His eyes searched Lee’s face, not for desire; but for weakness. For cracks in the surface. “You think you’re so clever. . . that if you wear the chains and ask for the knife, it somehow gives you power over the one holding it.”

He let that hang there for a moment, then tilted his head slightly, studying Lee with unsettling detachment.

“I’ve broken people who begged for pain. Who moaned through every lash and laughed through bloodied lips. You know what they all had in common?” He leaned in, tone still light, almost conversational. “They stopped laughing eventually. They always do.”

A slow, humorless smile curved his lips, not mockery now, but promise.

“When I break people,” he whispered, “even masochistic little bitches like you forget how to want it.”

He stood again, this time abruptly, and turned with the same smooth grace, knife glinting as it twirled through his fingers once more.

“You don’t know what you're asking for,” he called over his shoulder, voice cool and almost bored now. “But you will.”

 

[Kasumi]

Lee couldn't help but grin, catching the other's reaction, how he seemed to stiffen and quickly turn on his heel to stalk back over to him. He was totally ready to be hit, Lee momentarily surprised when he wasn't struck. He quickly relaxed, his devious, amused grin returning. "A game? No, but I am curious what yours is. What does Dimitri have to play?" Lee knew he was being serious. Dead serious. Ha ha ha... Oh dear god what the fuck was he doing? He reminded himself to stay calm. Somehow, he was succeeding- for now.

They all stopped laughing... were they dead? Internally, Lee winced at such a thought. If he weren't careful, which he absolutely wasn't being, he would end up as such. He shrugged, outwardly showing he wasn't affected by his words.

"Why don't we both surprise each other?" A dangerous game he was playing. "Come on, teach me a lesson. Let me learn."

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Lorenzo stilled once more, his back still to Lee, hand frozen mid-spin as the blade hung between his fingers. For a heartbeat, nothing moved—no twitch of muscle, no breath, no sound.

Then, slowly, the knife clinked into his palm.

“Curiosity,” Lorenzo murmured, voice like frost under velvet. “That’s the funny thing about it. It gets mice caught in traps. . . and pretty boys flayed alive.” He turned then; not quickly, not with rage, but with cold intent, eyes locked on Lee with a gaze that cut deeper than any blade. “You’re not brave. You’re not bold. You’re flailing. And I’m starting to wonder if you even realize it.”

He stepped forward again, and this time the air around him felt heavier, like it was folding in on itself. The predator was no longer amused. He was patient. . . and that was far worse.

“‘Teach me,’” he echoed, with a bitter little smile. “You’re mistaking this for a scene, sweetheart. But there’s no safeword. No stopping when it hurts. No hands holding you gently after.”

He crouched again, closer than before, blade resting against Lee’s collarbone; not pressing, not cutting. Just a quiet promise of what could be.

“You think Dimitri keeps you because of your mouth? Because you play dangerous and grin in the face of knives?” Lorenzo leaned in until his breath ghosted across Lee’s cheek. “He keeps you because you’re soft. Because you’re real. Something untouched in a world of rot.”

A beat.

“That’s what I’m going to take from him.”

He stood, turning as casually as if he’d just complimented the weather. “You want to be broken? Don’t worry,” he said without looking back. “You won’t even recognize yourself when I’m done.”

 

[Kasumi]

Lee wasn't sure if he had somehow gotten to the other. He was far too curious, wanting to know what was running through his mind, much like he felt earlier on with Dimitri. Just what was he thinking...? The other turned, Lee searching his features. Maybe he wasn't brave. He was just suicidal. "If I'm not getting fucked, I want to be hurt. Come on, gonna make me beg? Believe it or not, I do know what I'm asking for." He reassured, momentarily surprised that he was actually looking for his captor to help satisfy such terrible things he desired. No, he really shouldn't. Dimitri wasn't the type to strike him, despite the things he did for a living.

Ah... But he was craving it so. The sweet, sweet pain he loved. He didn't fully understand it himself, he just knew his body's unique response to such stimuli. How hard he got if he was hit or cut up just right. Damn. Why was it so hard to find someone to dish out such treatment?

For the first time, Lee was surprised. Not from the beautiful blade sitting on his collarbone, just underneath the collar around his neck, but by such spoken words. He felt bad for Dimitri, considering just for a moment if he felt the same toward his past love. Oh, god... He didn't need Dimitri dealing with the aftermath of yet another death of a lover.

"That better be a promise." He just couldn't help himself. He needed to be more careful, knowing he had to consider Dimitri's mental health and how badly he wanted to return to his side. He knew he could take care of himself.

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Lorenzo stood still, the silence thick between them after Lee's final taunt. The air felt like it held its breath with him. Then, he exhaled slowly through his nose, expression unreadable as ever, but his eyes. . . his eyes were something else entirely. Dark. Cold. Almost disappointed.

"You're broken already," he said quietly, not mockingly, not cruelly; just a fact delivered with razor precision. “You want pain because it makes you feel something. Because it’s the only thing that cuts through the noise in your skull. But you don’t even know why you crave it.”

He stepped forward again, not with menace this time, but something worse: understanding. The kind that comes from being broken in ways too sharp to talk about.

“You think I’d give you what you want? You think this is about giving you a high? You’re mistaking me for someone merciful.” The blade lifted from Lee’s collarbone, trailing with a whisper up to his jawline. It didn’t cut, not yet, but it traced along bone with surgical familiarity.

“I don’t hurt people to make them feel alive,” he murmured, eyes fixed on Lee’s. “I hurt them to take things from them. Pride. Hope. Identity. Even the desire to feel anything at all.”

His lips barely moved. “By the time I’m done, you won’t be begging for pain. You’ll be begging for silence. You’ll be begging me to stop. And you won’t even know why.”

He pulled back, the blade slipping away like it had never touched him, and turned his back again, deliberate, casual, cruel.

“Save your bratty little lines for someone who wants to play with their food,” he called over his shoulder. “Me? I just like to see how long they squirm before they go still.”

 

[Kasumi]

The look began unnerving Lee, the younger male was surprised why now he felt such a thing.

Why did he crave it? He knew, yet at the same time... Jeez. Getting a therapy session after being kidnapped and held to torture Dimitri. For once, he was quiet. Just letting the other go on, voicing things he knew yet never admitted or faced. True, the other wasn't obligated to give him what he wanted. It was completely unheard of. His breath caught in his throat, Lee mentally willing the blade to press into his skin. Then, it was gone before he knew it.

A light flush tinged Lee's cheeks. He looked away, rolling his eyes. He wanted to tell the other to do as he wanted, though he didn't waste his breath. The other would be doing that regardless. Play with his food? It felt like that already. "Fine. Fine. How long?" Until he decided Dimitri snapped.

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Lorenzo paused at the far end of the room, gaze fixed on a wall but clearly seeing something far beyond it. A ticking silence hung between them, stretching just long enough to become heavy before he finally spoke.

“How long?” he echoed, voice low and almost distant. Then, with the ghost of a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, he turned just enough for Lee to catch the glint in his eyes. “Long enough for him to wonder if you’re alive. . . not long enough for him to get comfortable with the idea of you being gone.”

He strolled back toward the center of the space with slow, measured steps, hands casually in his coat pockets now, the knife gone, but never truly far. “See, the trick isn’t in hurting him. Anyone can kill a man, break him down with brute force. No. . . The real artistry is in precision. Pressure applied just right, at just the right time.”

His gaze settled on Lee again, sharp and unreadable. “You’re not bait. You’re the scalpel.”

Then, a dry chuckle escaped him, short, almost thoughtful. “You should be flattered. Most people don’t get to be the weapon and the wound.”

He turned his back once more, strolling toward the shadows near the door, posture relaxed as though this were all a business meeting. “So sit tight, pet,” he said without turning. “Your debut’s not far off. And when he sees what I’ve done with you. . .

“He won’t know whether to shoot me…
or himself.”

 

[Kasumi]

Lee quietly watched the other, taking in everything that had taken place in the last few minutes: a strange therapy session and a terrible revelation that he was a tool in hurting Dimitri. He shifted in his seat on the cold concrete, his hands flexing, wrists twitching in their confines. He would be fine. He had to be, for Dimitri.

That went two ways, and the realization gnawed at Lee. He was lost in his thoughts, quietly taking in what his captor said.

The prospect of how he could be left for Dimitri to find did leave him nervous. Sure, he wanted to be tortured, to get that pain he wanted, yet found half dead wasn't at the top of his list of things to do that day.

"Can I ask... and I know this has to do with the whole mafia thing. But... why? What did Dimitri do?" Could he at least be given that?

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Lorenzo didn’t turn around this time. He stood near the doorway, hands still in his pockets, gaze angled just slightly upward as if considering the cracks in the wall—or perhaps simply ignoring Lee’s voice altogether. For a long moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer.

Then, with a faint shrug of one shoulder, he spoke. “What did he do?” he repeated, voice flat, dispassionate. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” He turned his head just enough to glance back at Lee from the corner of his eye, the barest curl of a smirk returning to his lips.

“Doesn’t matter if he burned down an orphanage or looked at someone the wrong way. I’m not here for justice. I’m not here for revenge. I’m here because someone paid me.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Money talks. I listen.” Then he turned away again, dismissing the question as if it were dust in the air. “Now stop asking questions like you matter in this. You’re not the reason. . . you’re just the leverage.”

Lorenzo’s fingers twitched at his side; slow, deliberate, like a pianist reaching for a note only he could hear. He let the silence stretch again, thick and suffocating, heavy with things unsaid. Then, with a sudden pivot, he turned on his heel and began walking back toward Lee.

Each bootstep struck the concrete with a precise rhythm. Too precise. Steady, patient, like the ticking of a clock wound too tight, waiting to snap. His face remained neutral. Too neutral. The kind of calm that begged for cracks. He crouched beside Lee once more, movements smooth, almost rehearsed, as he drew the knife from his belt. It caught the flicker of the overhead bulb; a twitch of light on steel, as if the blade itself were shivering in anticipation.

Lee tensed.

Lorenzo said nothing.

The blade met skin.

A deliberate slice, neither rushed nor hesitant, just beneath the bicep. Not deep. Not fatal. But precise. Surgical. Like an artist testing a new brushstroke. Blood welled up, thick and red, and Lorenzo watched it with a stillness that felt wrong. Not reverent. Not detached. Just. . . focused. A fraction too long. His eyes tracking the flow with the same intent someone might follow the hands of a clock as they tick down to midnight.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t scowl. He simply observed. But behind his gaze, something flickered. A thought half-formed. A whisper curling at the edges of his mind, like a song he almost remembered. Inside, he felt the silence again. Not peace. Not clarity. Just the hush that came before the storm, when everything inside him folded into cold, clinical purpose.

He’d stopped waiting for screams a long time ago. Screams were noise. He was after something else now. The catching of the breath. The twitching of the body. The flickering of the eyes; looking for mercy where there was none.

Lee was no different. And yet. . . something nagged. Not sympathy. Not hesitation. Just recognition. A thread connecting this man to something greater. Something dangerous.

Lorenzo’s thumb pressed into the wound—not cruel, just curious. Blood surged beneath his touch. He tilted his head slightly, listening. Not to Lee, but to the quiet pulse in his own skull. The rhythm of the moment. The music of inevitability.

“Now,” he said, voice low and almost thoughtful, “we begin.”

Not because he wanted to.

Because he must. Because that was the note the song demanded.

 

[Kasumi]

Lee quietly waited for the answer, biding his time, knowing he had to be patient. The other could easily decide not to respond or give him something vague. He was surprised when he did speak, Lee wondering what the hell was going on. Why else was he kidnapped? Then, he made the reveal: someone else wanted to hurt Dimitri. Before he could question him further, the other stopped him. Looking down at the concrete floor, his mind raced. Of course, things had to be harder.

Lee didn't know whether his captor was coming or going when he turned back around and once more approached him. He appeared almost bored as the knife came back out. The younger male was expecting him to play tricks with it again, swinging it about in his hand. However, the movement was too quick, and he tensed, flinching with a surprised cry as his arm was struck. "Hah... Okay... Finally," he mumbled, sighing almost happily as his body did its thing, translating the pain to pleasure. He appeared relieved in some strange way, like he was getting something he was looking for. In a way, he was. It felt even better when he pressed his thumb into the wound. "Mn..." He couldn't help it, but he squirmed. Not from discomfort, but the surge of something greater rushing through him. He gently bit his lower lip, consciously stopping himself from tilting his head back.

Had he been disappointing the other? Not screaming, not begging for him to stop. Lee felt eager, filled with want. "Perfect," he purred.

 

[RhysTheFirebird]

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed as Lee writhed beneath him; not in agony, but in pleasure. Not the reaction he’d calculated for. And yet, his face barely shifted. No visible shock. No raised brow. Just a flicker behind his gaze, like a clock adjusting for a leap second. A minor correction. Recalibration.

A new variable. Of course. A masochist.

He didn’t speak. Not right away. Instead, he watched with that eerie, unnerving stillness, as if reality were unfolding just slightly out of sync around him. The blood pooled from the shallow cut, elegant, clean, precise, and painted slow trails down Lee’s arm. Lorenzo observed it the way one might watch rainfall on glass: detached, vaguely interested, a mind already moving elsewhere.

Then Lee sighed, soft, pleased, and entirely unbothered. “Perfect.”

Something twitched at the corner of Lorenzo’s mouth. Not a smile. A tic. The hint of a thought knocking at the inside of his skull. He didn’t feel disgust. Not even irritation. Just the chill of a thought slipping in sideways, like water under a locked door.

How perfectly fucked.

“No wonder he keeps you,” Lorenzo murmured, voice low and bone-dry. “A pretty little problem that thanks people for hurting him.”

He lowered the blade again, not to cut. No, not yet; but to let it trace the wound like a pen over old ink. The edge glided through blood already spilled, collecting it on the steel in a motion almost reverent.

He watched the crimson cling to the metal. Not for sadistic pleasure. But with that quiet, analytical fascination—the kind that came before autopsies and after atrocities. A methodical curiosity.

“You think that makes you harder to break?” he asked, almost softly. “It doesn’t. It just means you’ll mistake pain for power until something real comes along and crushes you flat.”

He stood in a single smooth motion, flicking the blood off the blade like a magician shedding illusion. The sound echoed, too loud in the silence. Too final.

The knife disappeared into its sheath.

“You want pain,” he continued, voice cool and distant. “Fine. I’ll give it to you. But on my terms. In my time. Not because you crave it.”

He glanced down once more; at the flushed cheeks, the bitten lip, the eyes too bright.

“No... you don’t get to enjoy this.”

A faint tremor rippled through his words. Not anger. Not threat. Just the chill hum of something misaligned.

“You’ll scream when I want you to. And only then.”

He turned his back again, footsteps receding across the concrete, a ghost retreating into his own mind.

And as his voice drifted behind him, it felt less like a threat and more like a prophecy.

“When Dimitri finds you,” he said, almost to himself, “he’ll have to wonder. . . if it was your pleasure or your punishment that ruined you.”