5. All’s fair in love and war – Sasha
CHAPTER FIVE
all’s fair in love and war
SASHA
Pane Raffiele Arakeliane, jaké to je byt tak dokonaly?
Perfect. Fucking. Raffiel.
I’ll tell you what though, if he bats those goddamn perfect eyelashes at me one more time, I’m not responsible for what happens next. I’ll kill him. Or fuck him. I haven’t decided yet. He’s been plaguing my thoughts and I can’t understand why. And Jesus, fuck, why is he so nice?
Those steely grey eyes are still burned into my mind as I finish my last set of weighted squats. Tugging my towel from the arm of the treadmill, I take another sip of my water before heading out.
When I get to the main floor, Raffiel’s giant ass is asleep on the couch. He looks so… relaxed. Full lips in a pout, curly hair disheveled. Instead of the stiff, incessant coil that lives in his shoulders, there’s something like peace.
I don't want to disturb him, this must be the most sleep he's gotten in weeks. He's constantly studying, debating, and not to mention being his father's personal errand boy. Before we even moved in I would notice his father sending him to fetch whatever he needed, and Raffiel would merely comply.
And added to his already lengthy list, Vahan has him watching me, I’m sure they both think I don't know. But I wasn't born yesterday. I had some of my men do a full sweep of the apartment while we were moving in today, disguising themselves as movers.
In total, thirty-two wireless transmitters and a handful of hidden cameras were found. In a matter of minutes, we also hacked the mainframe that held the security system and looped the feed, while giving me access to control the cameras.
We did it all in a matter of minutes, but I'm sure the Consortium thinks their security team is the best.
My stomach grumbles and I look down at the brown paper bag sitting in the center of the coffee table—it grumbles again.
“Okay, fine,” I whisper. “Just this time.” As quietly as possible, I try to lift the bag.
“Told you you’d get hungry,” Raffi says, without opening his eyes, a triumphant smirk curling on his lips.
“Shut up,” I groan, snatching the bag loudly since obviously the bastard is awake now. I crash down on the couch next to him and his eyes flutter open as the stapled brown bag brown bag crinkles.
“I’m sure it's gone cold, let me warm it up for you,” he says, holding his hand out.
I'm stuck there for a moment, staring at him, wondering what his game is before I snap out of it, obvious clarity finally flooding my mind—I’ve come to the conclusion that he's trying to poison me.
Fisting the bag, I head towards the kitchen. “I got it. I’ll do it myself.”
After setting all of the ingredients out on the kitchen island—noodles in a container, cooked meat and herbs—I’m not sure how to heat it up or what order to heat it up in, my puzzled eyes look up and clash with Raffi’s.
“Still got it then?” he chides. I don't say anything.
Rolling his eyes, he pads over to the kitchen and stands on the other side of the island.
“Raffiel, can you please help me?” he asks, pitching his voice to sound like mine.
“Of course, Sasha, I’d be delighted. Go sit, I’ll bring it to you when it's done,” he says, voice back to its normal deep, silky cadence.
Just before I even have time to find a good show to watch, Raffiel sets a tray in front of me with noodles, a rich broth that smells divine.
“This looks… thank you.”
“Would you look at that?” he hums, smile dazzling. “He does have manners.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yeah, well, don't get used to it.”
He nods. “Noted.” Flopping down onto the couch next to me, he stretches his arm along the back. “So, what are we watching?” he asks as if we’re old friends.
“I was about to watch The Conjuring,” I say, flatly.
“Oh, shit! Did you see all of them?”
He’s as happy as a clam, meanwhile, I’d do anything to be away from him—his leg presses against mine, and I quickly shuffle across the couch.
I don’t want to touch him, I don’t even want to look at him.
“All except the last.” I grumble.
“Same. Let's watch it together, yeah?”
“Fine.” I sigh.
His eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. I don't know why I ever thought he’d let me be.
The end credits start to roll and I sit here trying to figure out if that was a joke, or if I slipped out of the twilight zone.
“Wait, that’s it?” Raffi expresses my same sentiments. “One of the greatest horror franchises in history concludes, and this is how they end it?”
My shock hasn't fully worn off but I think I'm too full and sleepy to care. That was some of the best ramen I've ever had in my life and I’m sure I’ve caught the itis.
“What did you think, Sasha?”
Groaning, I get up, shuffling to the kitchen with my tray. “I don't know but I'm exhausted.” I yawn, packing the dishwasher and setting a cycle. “I’m going to bed.”
Before I head to my room, I swing back to the living room to get my phone, only for Raffi to stop me.
“Hey,” he says, forcing me to do what I’ve been actively avoiding all night—look at him.
This is made worse when he stands, his stupid Marvel shirt hugging every dip in his abs. I’ve never hid my attraction to men, but this goes against every part of me that wants him dead.
He’s not much taller than me, maybe an inch or two over my height, so maybe six foot three, and my sleep deprived brain is telling me to eat him alive.
“Thanks for watching the movie with me.” He gives me that small smile, one that makes me feel something I can’t, no, won’t put into words.
But my nervous system goes into shock when he leans over and hugs me. Nope, not one of those fake bro hugs. It’s one that has every inch of him making contact with every inch of me.
No one has ever earnestly hugged me besides my mother.
It feels… good. He feels nice. I want to hug him back but something about that enrages me.
“Get off, fucker.” I shove him so hard he stumbles back.
“Sasha, I?—”
“Look if you want to fuck, fine. But this.” I gesture between us. “None of this is happening.”
“It's not like that I swear.” His eyes widened.
I hum. “Mm, what’s it like then, Angel?”
He’s lucky I hacked the video feeds, since there’s a camera pointing right in our direction and a mic stuck to the bottom of the coffee table.
“Don’t call me that.” Even as he averts his eyes, I catch what’s in them. Hurt. Shame. Pain.
But he takes a step toward me again, eyes meeting mine so I can see the raw, undeniable truth before he takes me by surprise—his warm lips gently fall into mine.
“It’s like… I can’t get you out of my mind,” he pants between rough, urgent kisses as if he’s in a race against a ticking time bomb. I start to shove him away but he begs, holding me tighter. “Please, Sasha, please, I need you so bad.”
“Raffi, stop!”
His body stiffens but he releases me slowly, taking a step back like a dog turned out into the cold, sinking back down onto the couch.
“I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “I don't know what came over me.”
I slide a knuckle under his chin to tilt his head, forcing him to look up at me. “I’m going to ask you one question, and if you lie to me, I will never touch you again. Do you understand?”
He nods.
“Good boy,” I whisper, running my thumbs over his bruised bottom lip, his breath catching when I move to stand between his thighs. “Can you tell me why your father had this whole apartment bugged?”
“To keep us?—”
I stop him before the lie fully forms.“How many times have you dreamed about my lips wrapped around your hard dick.” It’s clear his allegiance is to his father, to his family. But there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes that makes me want to tear through his obvious innocence.
Lowering myself onto my knees, I show him exactly how close he is to his dreams becoming a reality.
Just like that the truth rushes out of him.
“He did say it was to keep us safe.” He eyes me warily, my fingers tracing the waistband of his sweats. “But I know my father better than that, there’s surveillance almost everywhere to watch everything we do.”
“And do you know why?” I ask, needing to know if he knows everything about our families’ shared histories.
“I know that he’s looking for someone in your family that has wronged him.” He struggles to breathe when I start to tug down his sweats.
“Is that all?” I cock a brow.
“I swear to god, Sasha,” he groans as my hand slides over his hard shaft. “I don’t know anything else.”
I believe him. He’s so gone from just this I think he might cry, whimpering as I start to pump him, my fingers gently loosening and tightening around him with each stroke.
His head falls back against the couch, eyes rolling back. Before I take the time to think about what I’m doing, my tongue slips past my lips, licking a bead of precum that begs to be tasted.
“Fucking hell, Sasha,” Raffi groans, fingers tangling in my hair. I look up to find him watching me, jaw going slack as my lips slip down around his thick, veiny shaft. “Shit, shit, shit!” he chants, eyes widening.
His hips roll forward, pushing him deeper until my eyes start to water and I almost forget to breathe through my nose. He forces himself inside my mouth until he hits the back of my throat, and I gag.
“Fuck, yes, you feel so fucking good,” he moans. I'm supposed to be wrecking him but he’s the one making me weak.
All I can think about is how badly I want him to keep making that sound. And that I would kill anyone else who got to hear him like this—so soft, so beautiful only for me.
As quickly as the thought comes, it's gone and rage burns right where it belongs. I don’t want Raffi, I want to make him my dick sprung fuck puppet.
My teeth scrape lightly against the sensitive underside of him and Raffi jolts, a fractured sound ripping from his throat.
“Sasha—” he groans, body vibrating.
“Quiet.” I lift off of him with a wet pop, lungs burning, but satisfied with his glazed over eyes. “You don’t get to fall apart before I get what I want.”
His chest heaves beneath that skin-tight shirt. Curls dark and damp at his temples, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any grey left. He looks wrecked already—and I’ve barely begun.
This is dangerous.
Not the hidden cameras. Not our fathers’ feuds or the history hanging between us like a loaded gun.
The danger is in the way he looks at me as if I’m the only thing he's ever wanted while I kneel between his thighs.
My thumb brushes over the slit at his tip, collecting a bead of precum before I sink back down.
Raffi hisses, thighs trembling against my shoulders.“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he blurts, then clamps a hand over his mouth.
I freeze. His face drains of color—panic flares as he realizes what he’s said.
I pull back just enough to curl my lips in a vicious smile. “Beautiful?”
“I didn’t mean?—”
“You did.” I shove him hard enough for his head to bounce against the couch. “That’s the problem, Angel. You mean every pathetic word you say to me.”
His fingers tighten in my hair, but he holds back. I like it rough, but if he forced me right now, I’m liable to clamp my teeth down just to taste the sweet sting of his blood.
I lean in, warm breath drifting over the pulsing vein at his tip. “You look at me,” I whisper, tracing it with my tongue, “as if you want something more.”
His breathing stutters. “Maybe I do.”
I laugh softly, humorless. “Then you’re dumber than I thought.”
My mouth closes around him again, swallowing him deeper. Raffi moans, raw and urgent. Hips jerking, trembling under my touch.
“Fuck—fuck, I’m trying not to?—”
“Trying not to what?” I hollow my cheeks, sliding my tongue down his shaft to watch his control crack. “Use me?” Pop. “Want me?” Pop. “Lie to me?” Pop.
“No.” His voice shatters. “Trying not to want you.”
The room stills. Even the dishwasher’s hum in the kitchen seems miles away. For a heartbeat, I forget why I’m here.
But soon anger flares—because he doesn't get to say things like that. Not to me. Not with those honest, desperate eyes.
I pull away from him abruptly, watching the way he struggles to regain his composure—he inhales sharply, dazed, his cheeks flushed.
“You don’t want me,” I say flatly.
“I barely know you, and it still feels like…..” He sounds broken, as if he can’t understand how we got here either.
“Like what?”
“Nevermind.” He gulps, raking a hand through his hair.
I stare too long at the bruised pink of his lips, at the way he fights the urge to reach for me again, at the raw trust in his gaze. Trust—such a foolish thing.
Pushing up from my knees, I rise to my feet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Raffi’s eyes linger on me apprehensively as if I’ll deliver some cruel verdict, maybe a harsh slap might get us out of this mess. But the way he's looking at me, and the vicious tug in the center of my chest makes me doubtful.
“You should be careful,” I murmur.
“Why?”
Because I could ruin you. Because I want to. Because a sick part of me wants to trap every soft sound you make in my mind, until it devours the remainder of my restraint and I consume you like the dark, endless void I am.
I lean close until my lips brush his ear, palm pressed to his chest.
“Because,” I whisper, “I’m starting to think your father bugged this apartment to protect you from me.”