10. Felix
FELIX
I pace my apartment. My hair is still damp from the shower I took hours ago, and the faint scent of Julian’s cologne clings to my hoodie like a ghost I can’t seem to shake.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I drop onto the couch and bury my face in my hands. The memory of his touch—the heat of his hands on my skin, the way his lips moved against mine—plays on a loop in my mind. I groan, rubbing my temples like I can scrub the images away.
I almost slept with him.
My stomach twists at the thought, equal parts shame and something I don’t want to name. I wasn’t thinking straight. I let emotions—anger, frustration, whatever the hell else—drive me right to the edge. Worse, I almost used him. I wanted answers. I still want them. And for a split second, I thought maybe…maybe I could get him to crack if I let things go far enough. It was a fleeting, stupid idea, and it makes me sick knowing I even considered it.
But there’s another knot of guilt tangled up in the mess. Because if I’m being honest with myself—and I hate how hard that is—I wasn’t just looking for answers.
I wanted him.
I let my head fall back against the couch and stare at the ceiling, tracing the faint cracks in the plaster. That’s the truth I’ve been avoiding for weeks. Somewhere between his smug smirks and those rare moments of vulnerability he probably doesn’t even realize he shows, I let myself start to care.
Which is insane, because he’s probably in the mafia.
The thought hits like a bucket of ice water. I sit up and press my palms to my knees, trying to ground myself. Julian’s whole life is a series of half-truths and shadows. I’ve heard the whispers on campus and seen the way people avoid his gaze like it’s dangerous to make eye contact. And then there’s the “sporting goods store.” I’m not stupid. I know what that means.
I should hate him for it. I should walk away and never look back. But every time I try to put distance between us, he finds a way to pull me back in—a text, a look, a brush of his hand against mine that feels deliberate, even if it isn’t.
And tonight?
I shudder, pressing a finger to my temple. Tonight was too much. He showed up here, drenched and determined, and the walls I’d been holding up crumbled like they were never there at all. He has this way of looking at me like he’s daring me to tell him no…and I should have.
Instead, I kissed him like I’d been starving for it.
“Because I have been,” I say out loud to no one.
The realization settles like a lead weight in my chest. I’ve been craving him—his attention, his presence, the way he somehow manages to make me feel seen and invisible at the same time. It’s infuriating…and intoxicating.
I grab my hoodie off the back of the couch and toss it across the room like that will make the memory go away. It doesn’t. I can still feel the way his hands gripped me as if I was the only solid thing in his world. He’s dangerous. I know that. And yet, I keep letting him inch closer, like a moth drawn to a flame it knows will burn. I should be smarter than this.
I get up and start pacing again, trying to shake the energy that’s buzzing under my skin. Maybe this is what he does—draw people in and make them trust him, only to use them. Maybe I’m just another pawn in whatever game he’s playing.
But then I think about the way he looked at me tonight, like he was the one who’d crumble if I turned him away. Like he needed me.
I press my hands against the wall, my forehead resting against the cool plaster. “You’re an idiot, Felix,” I mutter under my breath.
Because despite everything—despite the lies, the danger, and the fact that Julian probably has blood on his hands—I can’t seem to stop wanting him.
And that scares me more than anything else.
The next few days pass in a slow, infuriating blur. I tell myself I’m not waiting to hear from Julian, but every time my phone buzzes, I can’t help but check it like a fool. Nothing. Not a single word from him since that night at my apartment.
It’s for the best, I tell myself. Someone like Julian belongs to a world I don’t understand—a world I’m not sure I want to understand.
Your life will be so much easier if you just fucking believe me.
The memory stirs something I can’t name, a strange mix of curiosity and dread.
Saturday night comes, and the city hums with its usual chaos. I’m curled up on my couch, a textbook open in my lap that I’m pretending to study, when my phone buzzes on the armrest. My heart jumps before I can stop it.
It’s him.
Julian: Come out with me.
Just four words, no explanation, but my pulse kicks up like I’ve been caught in a spotlight. I stare at the message, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
Me: Where?
His reply comes fast, like he was waiting for me to answer.
Julian: You’ll see.
Julian: I want you to know the real me.
I read the text three times before it sinks in. My chest tightens and a thousand questions battle for space in my head.
He’s inviting me into his world. I don’t know if I’m ready. Hell, I don’t know if I want to be ready. But I know I’ll go.
Julian shows up at my door like he owns the place—like he’s walked in here a hundred times before and has every right to do so. I don’t even hear him knock; it’s just the sound of my door swinging open, and there he is, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He’s all confidence and raw energy, something I haven’t seen since his last game.
I freeze for a second, the book I’m holding slipping from my hands onto the floor. Julian grins, that familiar smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.
“Put on something black,” he says. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it that makes my heart skip a beat. “Something grungy.”
I frown. “Why?” I glance at the clock. It’s late, but his tone tells me this is anything but a regular night out.
“Don’t ask,” he replies as he steps inside without an invitation. “I need to show you something, Felix. So put on your best dark, brooding look. You’re gonna want to fit in.”
I want to ask what he means, but the way he’s looking at me—like he’s daring me to question him—stops me. There’s something electric in the air, something I can’t ignore.
I nod and head into my room to change. A part of me wants to refuse—wants to back out, take the easy way out. But another part of me? The part that’s been curious about Julian ever since we met? It pulls me forward and makes me want to follow him into whatever madness he’s dragging me into. Besides, this will get me closer to the truth.
When I step back out, I’m wearing a black hoodie, ripped jeans, and boots. Julian gives me a once-over, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he’s deciding whether or not I’ve done it justice. Then he gives me an approving nod.
“Perfect,” he says. “Let’s go.”
I grab my jacket and follow him out the door, the weight of the night pressing down on me.
The drive is quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. I’m trying to process what’s happening, but Julian’s unpredictable mood has me off-balance. He’s driving, but his focus seems on something else entirely, like he’s already miles ahead of me in whatever plan he’s cooking up. I want to ask him where we’re going, but I don’t.
He slides his hand to my thigh. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, but neither of us pulls away.
We pull up to a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of town. The parking lot is filled with old cars and luxury vehicles, and the men hanging around the area look...dangerous. It’s like they’ve stepped out of a different world—one I’m still struggling to understand.
Julian’s steps are sure as he leads me through a back entrance into the dark, pulsing underground space. The sound of fists pounding against flesh echoes around us, and the sharp smell of sweat and adrenaline hits me all at once. The room is lit with harsh, dim lights that cast long shadows over the people packed into it. The energy here is raw and untamed, like a wild animal that could break free at any moment.
I glance around, my heart racing. The crowd is massive and the air is thick with tension.
Julian’s already on his way to the side of the ring, where a few men are gathered in a tight circle, all eyes focused on the fight that’s about to begin.
He turns and gives me a stern look. “Don’t talk to anyone. If you do, don’t tell them your real name.” Julian’s fingers graze mine. “Stay here. Lewis will keep an eye on you.”
“Lewis?” I ask.
Julian nods toward a big bald guy wearing all black and a silver chain. Lewis looms in the corner, keeping a steady eye on the two of us. “He’s...a friend.”
Julian smiles and pulls his sweatshirt off, revealing a tight muscle shirt, and presses the cloth into my hands. I try not to gawk at his carefully carved body, but my mind plays a loop of the memory of him naked on my bed.
“I’m next. Wish me luck.”
I swallow hard, but nod. I’m not sure if I should be excited or terrified, but I can’t help feeling both. He walks over to the side of the ring and waits patiently for his turn.
The bell rings, and the crowd roars to life as two fighters square off. One of them is bigger—muscle on muscle—and looks like he’s done this a thousand times. The other is Julian.
He steps into the ring like it’s his element, his eyes hard and focused, like the fight is already decided. His opponent cracks his knuckles, ready to throw the first punch, but Julian doesn’t even flinch. I feel the weight of the room on my shoulders as the tension builds.
The fight starts with a burst of movement. Julian’s opponent lunges at him and throws a right hook, but Julian ducks under it, moving with an almost unnatural speed. He counters with a swift, hard jab to the stomach, and the man stumbles back, clearly surprised by the force behind the blow.
Julian doesn’t give him a chance to recover. He’s on him again instantly, fists flying with brutal efficiency. The crowd is shouting, but I can only focus on Julian—his power, his control, how he dominates the fight without even breaking a sweat. He’s so quick and precise that it’s almost as if he’s playing a game while his opponent can only try to catch up.
The fight doesn’t last long. Julian knocks the guy to the ground with a devastating uppercut, and the crowd explodes in cheers. The man doesn’t even get up. It’s clear Julian’s won.
I’m standing there, wide-eyed and frozen, completely absorbed by what I just witnessed. The raw, unfiltered power that Julian wields—how he owns this world, this fight, these people—it’s both terrifying and awe-inspiring. My heart’s still pounding, but not from fear. There’s something about him that draws me in, something dangerous but intoxicating.
Julian’s face is set in a hard, cold expression as he walks toward the edge of the ring, wiping his hands on a towel. Blood splatters his face and chest, but he doesn’t seem to care. This is just another night for him.
He meets my gaze as he approaches, the fire in his eyes still burning hot. “Impressed?” he asks, his voice low.
I nod slowly, unable to look away from the sheer strength in him. “Yeah. You...you’re incredible.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s not about being incredible, Felix. It’s about survival.”
And as he says that, I realize how deeply that truth runs through him—how it’s not just about the fight. It’s about everything he is, everything he’s become. And I’m standing here in the middle of it, just beginning to understand the darkness he lives in.
“Follow me.” Julian pulls me along after him.
The air is thick with sweat and the smell of blood, and the noise is so loud that it seems like the whole underground arena is alive, breathing in sync with the fighters. I can barely hear myself think over the roar of the crowd, but Julian moves with a confidence that’s almost contagious as he leads me through the dark, narrow hallways beneath the arena.
I try not to show it, but my heart is pounding. The farther we go, the more I realize this isn’t just a fight. This is something else entirely. The gleam in Julian’s eyes when he talks about this world—it’s not the look of a guy who’s here for the thrill. He belongs here. He owns it.
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Julian says over his shoulder, his voice low, like he knows what this place is doing to me. But he also knows there’s no way in hell I’m going to walk away now.
I keep close to him, trying to focus on anything other than the uneasy feeling coiling in my stomach. But the deeper we go, the more I feel the pull of this world. The brutality of it. The way it feeds on violence like it’s a drug.
A new fight has already started. The two men in the ring are vicious, throwing punches like they have nothing left to lose, and the crowd is eating it up, their cheers drowning out everything else. Julian doesn’t stop to watch, though. He just walks toward a door that leads to the back.
I follow, my mind still racing as I try to process the chaos of it all, the way the men in the crowd exchange money like they’re gambling on death itself, the way Julian carries himself like this is just an average Saturday for him. He doesn’t flinch when a guy with a black eye stumbles past us, or when another one slaps Julian on the back with a little too much force. It’s like he’s untouchable.
We stop before a steel door, and Julian doesn’t knock. He doesn’t need to. The guy on the other side opens it immediately when he sees Julian through the peephole. He doesn’t even look at me—just nods at Julian like they’re old friends. Julian walks in without a word, and I follow, trying not to stare at the bloodied rags on the floor and the half-empty bottles of water scattered around the small, grimy room.
“Get ready,” Julian mutters, peeling off his shirt and revealing the blood that’s already half-dried on his skin from the fight. He’s covered in it—his face, his chest, his arms—slick and sticky. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees the look on my face. “You think this is bad? You should see me when I lose.”
I swallow hard, unable to pull my eyes away. The sight of him is unsettling—how alive he looks, how much he enjoys the power he wields in this place. He’s dangerous, and he knows it. I can’t decide whether I’m repelled or mesmerized by it. Maybe both.
“You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna help me get this off?” He smirks again, and it sends a shiver down my spine. He’s still dripping sweat, muscles flexing under his skin as he tosses the soaked shirt to the side.
“You can’t do it?” I ask.
His eyes skim down my face. “I tweaked my shoulder.”
I know he’s lying, but I can’t help myself. I step forward, reaching for the edge of his waistband. I hesitate just a second, unsure if I’m even allowed to touch him like this. But Julian doesn’t give me the chance to second-guess myself. He grabs my wrist and pulls me closer, his grip firm and unyielding.
“Don’t think too hard about it,” he mutters, his voice rough from the fight. “Just help me out.”
I nod, and before I can even process it, I’m helping him peel off the blood-soaked clothes, feeling the warmth of his skin under my fingertips. He’s covered in bruises and cuts, but none of them seem to bother him. It’s just part of the game to him.
And I can’t look away.
He leads me to the small shower in the corner, his bloodstained skin a stark contrast against the white tiles. The water hits his back and the blood starts to wash off, swirling down the drain in red streaks. He leans his head back under the stream, his eyes closed like he’s letting the world fade away for a second.
I stand there, frozen, unsure what to do. He doesn’t seem to care about how I’m looking at him or how the room’s heat is making my chest tighten. He looks so...different when he’s like this. Like he’s not just Julian anymore—he’s someone else entirely.
He finally opens his eyes, and when he looks at me, I can see the fire still burning—the hunger, the power.
“You still with me, Felix?” he asks, voice low and teasing.
I nod, but it feels like the ground beneath me has shifted. I didn’t get to admire him that night in my room. I was too distracted by trying to get answers out of him. But now he stands before me with blood and sweat defining his body like paint. His hipbones lead down to a thick cock and toned thighs.
“See something you like?” He smiles, taking his flaccid dick in his hand and stroking gently. His eyes stay on me, daring me to do something.
My mouth goes dry. The memory of him in the ring, tearing his opponent to shreds, makes heat pulse low within me. I’m normally the one to stay in control, but now…now I want...
“Yes.” I take two large steps forward and pull Julian to my mouth.
The hot water drenches my clothes, but makes his body deliciously slick. I don’t waste a moment before sliding my tongue against his.
Julian groans into my mouth as he undoes my belt and forces his hand under the waistband of my jeans and boxers.
“Already hard?” Julian licks the side of my neck as his fingers graze my cock.
“I’ve been hard since you won. Now shut up. I need you inside me,” I demand.
Julian snorts as he pushes down my pants. “But you’ve been acting like you want all the control, Felix. Now you want me to take over?”
I can barely think as his hand glides over my length. I nod.
“Say it,” Julian demands. “And be polite.”
The roughness of his voice makes my dick jump in his hand. I try to kiss him, but Julian pulls his head back, a wicked smirk on his face.
“Please, Julian. Fuck me.”
He doesn’t hesitate as he pushes me against the shower wall and shoves my pants down the rest of the way.
“God, I can’t get you out of my head.” He forces two of his fingers into my mouth as he rubs his cock against my ass. I suck on them greedily, pressing myself harder into him.
“I should have known you were gonna bottom for me as soon as I saw that look in your eye when I won.” He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and pushes them into my hole.
I gasp as his other hand slides underneath my T-shirt to pinch my nipple. His fingers pump in and out of me, slowly working me up.
Julian nips at my earlobe. “You’re so pent-up. You feel like you need to hold your life together all the time. No one else gets to have control, huh?”
The water from the shower runs into my eyes and slides down my skin. Heat grows in my center, making precum drip from me.
“Answer me, baby.” Julian forcefully shoves another finger into my ass, making me arch against him.
“No one,” I pant. My hand squeezes my cock.
“Except me.” Julian pulls his fingers out of me and spreads my cheeks. “Say it, Felix. Who owns you?”
God, he’s so fucking hot when he’s like this. I’m almost delirious from his demands. “You.”
He drives into me with no warning. The pain makes me cry out, but Julian covers my mouth with his free hand. Julian is huge. I’ve never felt so full, and my hole squeezes around him greedily. I’ve never bottomed before. I’ve never been a person who relinquishes power to someone else. I need to be in control of my own life. But with Julian...
His power radiates off of him in waves. He’s respected. He’s the fucking king. And I want to bow down to him in this moment.
“Hey, Jules. John says you got the—” The door swings open, revealing a short man with brown hair.
Julian doesn’t even flinch. His cock continues to pump into me as he pushes my face into the tile so I can’t see the door.
“God, you feel so good,” Julian mumbles in a haze as his hand grazes my back.
I know I should probably be embarrassed right now, but I can’t seem to focus on anything but Julian’s skin.
“So this is where you take your dates now? College boys are nasty,” the man says.
“Ricky, fuck off before I tell Lewis to put you in the river,” Julian growls.
“Uh, right. Sorry, boss.” The door shuts with a click.
Julian’s hand wraps around my neck and gently squeezes. He stills his hips. “Did you like someone seeing me fuck you?”
His other hand begins to jerk me off.
Fuck, fuck. It’s too much—the fullness in my ass, the slight dizziness from the lack of air, and Julian.
I release a loud groan as I come all over the shower wall.
Julian chuckles darkly in my ear. “I’ll take that as a yes.”