Pleasure without Peace

"Did you get someone?" Alessandro asked, his voice low and tired as he strode toward the waiting helicopter.

"Yes, boss," Luca replied calmly, trailing just behind him.

"Good," Alessandro muttered, tugging loose the tight knot of his tie.

Waiters stood in a neat line beside the chopper, heads bowed in respect as he passed. Alessandro offered no glance, his mind elsewhere. He climbed inside the VIP cabin like a lion returning to his lair, sinking onto the plush couch with the weight of a warlord. He exhaled heavily, his posture slouched like a man crowned by burdens.

Moments later, the door opened, and in walked a boy—barely clothed in a tight rubber pant that clung to his slim figure, held up by a thin rope that crossed from his waist to his shoulder. His gait was fluid, too elegant for the cold interior of the aircraft. He moved like silk in water—girlish, deliberate.

Alessandro’s eyes did not light up. He didn’t smile. He merely observed.

The boy reached him, kneeling down in between Alessandro’s legs, tilting his head as he looked up, a wicked smile on his lips.

"What do you want me to do to you this night?" he asked, licking his index finger slowly.

"Relieve some stress," Alessandro said with a slight smirk.

The boy leaned forward, lips parting to kiss, but Alessandro immediately drew back.

"Don’t."

The boy froze. "Why not? It’s just for the fun of it."

Alessandro’s eyes were cold. "I don’t kiss random people. Just do your job and get it over with."

Fear flickered in the boy’s eyes. The rumors were true. This man was not to be trifled with. But he straightened his spine and tried to hold onto confidence.

"You’re quieter than I expected. Or is that fear catching up with confidence?" Alessandro asked, his tone sharp.

"I’ve learned it’s better to listen first when in a room with power. Or... air, in this case," the boy said with a weak smirk.

"You’ve been paid. Heavily. I don’t expect fear. I expect results."

"And you’ll have them. I’m just... processing the altitude. Not every day I’m in the clouds with a man who could decide my fate with a blink."

Alessandro studied him. "You speak like a man who wants to live but doesn’t mind dying. Curious mix."

"I’ve been broke before. Close enough to death to know the difference. But money talks... even if it whispers danger."

"Danger doesn’t whisper. It announces itself. Like now."

The boy inhaled. "Then I’m listening. What exactly did you want tonight?"

Alessandro leaned forward, eyes locking. "Relief. And silence. I don’t need conversation. I need quiet execution. You know what that means?"

A pause.

"I know what it doesn’t mean—attachment, emotion, weakness. I’m not here to be remembered, am I?"

Alessandro nodded slowly. "Good. You’re smarter than most they send. But don’t confuse understanding with safety. You mess this up—you don’t land."

"Understood. Just tell me how to earn the rest of the silence."

"By keeping your mouth shut... even after tonight."

The boy gave a faint, fearless smile. Then, he reached forward. With practiced ease, he unbuckled Alessandro’s belt, unzipped his trousers, and exposed the growing hardness beneath. He took it in his mouth, working slowly and expertly.

Alessandro said nothing, but his hand gripped the boy’s hair, guiding the rhythm. Moments later, he pushed the boy onto the couch, flipping him over with silent aggression. He thrusted in deep, and the boy’s moans echoed within the cabin walls. The guards stationed just outside exchanged silent glances as the sounds filtered through.

Luca stood still, face blank, then turned to signal the guards to remain quiet. They chuckled under their breath.

Inside, Alessandro kept thrusting with purpose but not satisfaction. His pace was relentless. It wasn’t about pleasure. It never was.

Eventually, he stopped, withdrawing with a tired exhale. He zipped up, towering over the boy who lay panting, flushed, and sore.

"Do you think men like me are ever truly relieved?" Alessandro asked, voice cool and detached.

The boy blinked, still breathless. "No. I think men like you survive stress the way others survive bullets—through pain tolerance."

Alessandro’s eyes narrowed with interest. That answer caught him off guard.

"Fair answer," he murmured, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

The boy shifted, wincing slightly.

"Difficult to take?" Alessandro asked.

"Do you go this hard on people?"

"That’s what makes me Alessandro," he replied dryly.

The hum of the helicopter deepened as the pilot announced descent. Below, the bright shimmer of Sicily awaited.

The bird touched down. The rotors slowed. Alessandro stood, straightening his jacket. He stepped out first, followed by his guards. The boy, now dressed, was led out quietly by one of the escorts.

"Where is Luca?" Alessandro asked without breaking stride.

A guard replied quickly, "I think he went to answer a call, boss."

Just then, Luca jogged toward him, phone still in hand, face tense.

"Boss—your father just called. He wants you at the mansion immediately. There’s a problem."

Alessandro didn’t stop walking. But his jaw tightened.

"What kind of problem?"

"He didn’t say. Just that it’s urgent."

Alessandro’s eyes darkened.

"Then let’s not keep the devil waiting."