C:STP Chapter 1 (Patreon)

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Miles has always felt like walking still for millions of miles; going nowhere, relying on a Mafia to fix the boys he loved. All that came to a halt; still moving, like the ever motion of waves whose waters sit still on the beach.
He felt like those waves; chasing the dry sand, yet always getting pulled back. Pushed back. Someone is pushing against my skin. Or... a lot of hands pushing against my skin?
If Miles weren't so numb on the inside, he would've attacked the many hands that surround him, but no. He just weakly opened his eyes, disconnected from reality for a moment. Why am I surrounded by women...
Women who seemed to be lathering him in fragrant oils and relieving his muscles with massages. Only then did Miles process more of his surroundings; everything smelled like artificial bouquets, like expensive perfume made of plastic flowers.
"Wait... uhm... what's going on...?" Nothing seemed to be of danger, so Miles didn't overreact and potentially harm these innocent women.
"He's awake."
"Velma, do you know English?"
"Tell him to not be afraid."
They're speaking Russian. Miles curses internally, for he only studied Italian and German out of the many European languages. He tries to narrow down where he could be, and who knocked him out. Oh no. The Shabdkoshi... is this their doing? Did Master Varma grant me this treatment?
"Where am I...?" Miles questions but unfortunately, they don't know English. They just gently lead a naked Miles out of the table and into a platform where he was wiped off all oils and moisturized. Miles was too confused to panic, and maybe this is something Master Varma planned for his one day of freedom.
"Gospodin," one lady says with an excited smile, presenting Miles with a white gold tuxedo with black accents and a matching slim vest. Miles was more comfortable with the bathrobe he's in right now, but he just allowed them to dress him up and even manipulate his hair.
What the hell is going on? "Miss, do you speak English? Deutsche?"
"He is so handsome, yes?" They just giggled, one putting a neutral tint on Miles' lips and a little bit of powder.
"I was expecting a woman."
"Maybe Master likes the kind and innocent..."
"Innocent? He has a big tattoo on his sleeve."
"Seems to be the Master's type, then."
Miles gave up on trying to understand the Russian women. They seemed friendly enough, but the cheerful way of speaking intimidates him a little bit. At least he's in a fancy suit now with his hair gelled and curled into perfection.
once upon a time,
Under the mundane world, crime syndicates have thrived and controlled what couldn't be seen with the naked eye. Money, territories, the government, drugs, goods... humans to be butchered, sold, and enslaved.
The Unholy Trinity has been the most powerful in the underground society. It consists of the Shinji; a Yakuza that controls almost all of Asia and has the world's most advanced technology yet to be conquered. the Levough; a Mafia of great wealth responsible for the construction of hundreds of Carvalle Schools. And, the Schliemann; a powerhouse of nuclear warfare and vehicles, construction the best luxury cars, airships and military gear.
Those three stand on top of the world, but for some reason one is missing.
A maid in a great mansion situated in Novosibirsk, Russia presents a handkerchief to the Master of the house, just for him to clean his bloody dagger with.
"Vlad would've been forgiven if he had just lost my money. But wasting my time? Death to that bástard."
Expensive white Oliver Cambell shoes made noise upon the gold grouted tiles of the luxurious Mansion; servants and gangsters following behind him with maid's catching his coat and hat after his arrival. It seems as if everything in his sight is owned by him; which indeed he does.
"What time is it? It better not be a minute past 8."
The dark haired man behind him smiles with a sly demeanor, "It is still seven, Master."
The mature, 34 year old pauses to acknowledge his right hand man. "Hmm. Your Russian improved. Good job; I assume you also successfully shipped my bride here from India? Did the Shabdkoshi give you a hard time?"
"They weren't expecting us. Sniping the guards was quite boring. I wish we would've gotten close on the action and gotten some Paneer on the way," they chat as they make their way to the grand office.
"A clean job is a good job, you can have your Paneer anytime after this," the Master cheers, as he seems to be in a very happy mood while followed by his many servants. "Ahh, where is he? He better be at his best."
He enters his office, a great big room full of gold and antique ornaments reserved for the one and only Master of the Schliemann Mafia.
The man in white sits on his designated seat, his right hand man and gang leader sitting on the sofa on the other wall.
"Is he as good looking as the pictures, Misha?" The Master asks the black haired man of Asian descent twirling the dagger around his fingers.
The right hand man smirks at the Master, paying no mind to his bizarre interests. "Not that bad. If you liked the pictures, you'll certainly likely him."
At that moment, the door opened once more and two maids come in nodding their head in greeting before stepping aside to present a very special individual the Master has requested. And his smile has never been so wide before.
"Lisichka!" He greeted with the widest of smiles and the warmest of welcomes, opening his arms happily as if he didn't just murder a man earlier.
The infamous Miles Taylor, hair gelled and curled to perfection, clad in an expensive suit of the best fabric, lined with the shiniest and lightest gold. The guest stares at the Master confused, but especially wide-eyed at the man who sits on the other wall, casually playing with a knife while staring at him with disinterest in his eyes.
Taewon...?
"My, what beauty in front of me." The Master stares in awe at the man presented to him, very reasonable to be looking scared and confused at this moment. "Very scared, hm? Like a deer in headlights? I thought the Levough taught you better than to be scared."
Miles wasn't scared. He was holding down a mental breakdown. His knees vibrate, hands twitching to reach out for that man over there. It's Taewon... Taewon!
Miles couldn't take his frozen eyes away from the man sitting on the sofa beside the table of the Master. He wants to run to him, to touch that man, but for now he is paralyzed under the gaze of one powerful man.
Farlan Lev Ivanovich Schliemann is one level under Járed Levough; the Schliemann Mafia being one of the Unholy Trinity that makes up the three most powerful Mafias in the world. That alone indicates the power this man has. And this man, with blonde hair that gets lighter at the tips and falls upon his shoulders, top pinned back to showcase his charm and handsomeness, is the one behind all this.
The Master suddenly calls for his attention, which Miles subtly complies.
"Did Misha hit you too hard? You seem to be shaking while looking at him," the Master says, making the Gangster beside him scoff. "Misha, next time you should handle him with care. I wouldn't want my Lisichka here to get too much brain damage, I don't want a stupid lover."
"Wait, lover?!" Miles gasps, offended. He doesn't know what to feel hearing that with Taewon in the room, but looking at the boy now, he seems to be unaffected by it. "You took me here and did all this?! For wh-"
"Forgive me Master, I had a little too much fun," Misha cuts him off, confusing Miles even more. Even making him question if him and Taewon are the same. Still, the gangster which serves the Master adds, "But yo, what do you mean Next Time? Surely I won't need to knock him out again, do I?"
"I will assign you and your men to watch over my precious Lisichka here, there's no one I trust mo—"
"No!" Miles firmly states, yelling out, "Enough! I am not, and will not be your Lirish... uhm, whatever; you already forced me out of Shabdkoshi, I will not let you force me into your bullshít! What do you even want from me?! Why did you do this?!"
The Master was all too calm despite the gangsters around them clearly surprised at Miles' outburst. He really just cursed out the Schliemann Boss. Misha raised an amused eyebrow at him. It is never good to disrespect and raise a tone at the Master. Yet it seems like Miles doesn't appreciate Misha's efforts earlier to stop him from making the Master mad.
Heidi... please... tell me you're just playing along and not actually letting him capture me...
Maybe he's just playing a game.
"Mr. Taylor, I could strap you in a hospital bed and harvest your organs one by one for an infinite supply of it; making me 100 million dollars richer every month. Or, use you to create soldiers that will win us control over the whole world," Master Farlan calmly states as if Miles never disrespected him seconds before. He even has a smile on.
"However, I have no need for those. I need something far more precious than what you can do. I simply ask for your heart."
What.
What is he talking about. In front of Heidi?!
"N... no... I'm not a doll for you to just fúcking dress up and fúck with!"
"Do you even know who I am? I can make anyone into anything I want, and I can make you into a doll. Either be a beautiful one in my bed, or be lifeless in a laboratory."
I can't get my boys back if I choose the latter.
Miles breathes out, backing away. He looks at Heidi for his reaction, but he seems to be innocently anticipating an answer as well. "I... I can't... that's..."
"Why not?" The Master asks, quite confused. "Is it because your heart belongs to someone else? Do you have a lover?"
Yes! "Y-"
"I will simply get rid of this lover, then your heart will then be free to be mine," Master Farlan smiles warmly, charming as his eyes portray.
Miles looks at him in horror, the waves seeking freedom from the ocean but is once again held back by the moon. He then spares a glance at the familiar man whose face he knows all too well. He'll kill them. This man... is a monster... Taewon, why aren't you doing anything?
Could it be... they lost their memories? Miles' hands trembles, but his mind went firm. He cautiously looks at the Master with distrust in his eyes, "No. I don't have anyone. I was just hesitant."
"So," the Master grins widely, showcasing a perfect set of teeth and a very gentle charm. "There is nothing going in our way, so that does it then. Miles Taylor; your new Mistress, everyone!"
I don't even have a say in this? Miles glances at Heidi, who is clapping among the cheering gangsters. Miles hesitates in even looking at him, but if he really was brainwashed or had forgotten of any sort; Miles has to stay alive and awake in this Mafia to get back with them.
You're alive. And you'll still be my SaLu. No matter which Mafia I belong to; the Levough, the Shabdkoshi, the Schliemann... I will always be yours.
"Leave us," the Master commanded, and everyone obeys. Miles' skins crawls at the thought of being alone with his man who holds such a lustful gaze for him, it's uncomfortable.
Miles' breath hitches when his beloved Taewon walks pass him as if he was nobody; not even glancing once. Just like before, only this time more painful since he was the one who brought Miles here. Taewon truly does not know who Miles is, and even though Miles' heart is whole after seeing him alive and well, it's still cracked.
Once the door closes, Miles stares at the desk holding back tears; heart still sensitive after all that pain. He never moves from his spot as the Schliemann Boss slowly makes his way towards him.
"Has the Shabdkoshi treated you well? Old Man Varma can be quite a pervert," The gentle, positive deep voice of the Master asks with his gloved hands softly sweeping across Miles' hair, now behind the rigid guest.
Speak for yourself. "... more than well, actually." Aside form the experimentations, they didn't treat Miles like cattle. They treated him like a normal employee and the Master Varma was kind enough to worry about his health. "What are you planning? If not to harvest me, what do you gain from me?"
Miles' voice was fierce and firm, even though his eyes are tearful and trembling. The Master behind him just chuckles, standing closer and displaying their difference in height.
"Didn't I say it? I want you to be mine..." Farlan inhales the expensive scent of his Bride, his hair smelling like grapes and berries. "A trophy wife, if you will. Where you will be treated like a Queen, and all you have to do is look pretty beside me, and my bed."
Disgusting. This makes me want to be homophobic.
"I don't want to, I'm not concubine," I want to say I'd rather be harvested, but I can't go after my boys if I'm stuck in a laboratory. "But..."
"But? You're making conditions now, Lisichka?" The Master chuckles humorously. "When I very well control your circumstances?"
"W... well," Miles hesitates, "Would you rather someone who hates you and need to tie up or someone willing?"
"As much as I'm into bondage, I prefer you with consent," the Master goes in front of him and smiles innocently, ignoring how Miles is scowling him to hell right now.
"Then I will give my consent if you give me freedom;" Miles demands, avoiding his eyes because he's genuinely disgusted by this arrangement. He just wants to find his boys. "Like... being free to roam this place, or go outside!"
Master Farlan's voice was deep yet with a positive intonation, as if he was a harmless friend. But, under that tone was a dangerous man with words for venom, the softness not making Miles any less uncomfortable. "And if you escape, Lisichka?"
Not without them. "Then you're welcomed to come harvest me or prevent me from doing that again. I thought you're a fearsome Boss who can do anything?"
Farlan's smile grows at this challenging personality the infamous Miles Taylor is displaying. Truly someone who knows what he wants; how attractive.
"Fine, you shall be treated like a liberated Queen you are," Farlan takes his hand and bows down to gently kiss it, lingering his lips for a little bit. Miles didn't breathe the whole time he does it. "But you'll be surrounded by protection, am I clear?"
Perfect. "Whatever."
Farlan is truly pleased with Miles' demeanor. At first, he was scared and confused. And then, he displayed anger and determination to keep his autonomy. Right now, he's treating a whole Mafia Boss as if they're equals, or even above the Master. Farlan thinks, Such great qualities for a Mistress.
"You are perfect for me, my Lisichka, so beautiful..." Farlan takes a hold of his chin and leans in, but Miles hitches his breath and turns his head away.
"I'm hungry," he firmly states, staring at anything other than the handsome Master's eyes.
"Of course..." Farlan raises an eyebrow, "I'll have you dined right away. Haha, I can't wait until our first night as a couple together. How long have I fantasized for this."
What is wrong with him, he doesn't even know me! Miles truly wants to cry for selling himself out to a Mafia once again. But at least now, he has some sort of freedom and control. The moment I get Taewon and Jihun to remember... I'm getting us out of here. But for now, I must put up with this strange and creepy man.
meanwhile, on the other room,
The Schliemann gangsters follow their leader into the music room after being dismissed from the Master's office.
"Misha, are we really going to watch the Master's bítch like some babysitters?" They ask the leader, who now lays on the sofa, feet up and lighting a cigarette in his mouth, held by a mechanical arm that he now reveals by taking off his gloves. The sound of soft piano is heard around them, softening the atmosphere of tough gangsters full of body modifications.
"Well, that whóre must be so important for Farlan to make us, of all people, watch over him, right?" Misha says in a deep and nonchalant voice. He scoffs, "He reeks of perfume, but I can still smell baby powder on him. So I guess we'll truly be babysitting, boys."
The piano music stops, and in the middle of men full of tattoos, piercings, and dyed hair, one who stood out in the middle with skin as pure as freshly laid snow. One whose hair is also as white as snow, but the recently trimmed tips are black. A gentle giant with freckles and one mole, the only visible marks on his skin as of the moment.
The lack of music made Misha grumble as he fixes his own arm. "Is Vanya's fingers broken? Ugh, mute bítch..."