C:STP Chapter 18 (Patreon)

Miles flinches awake once he feels someone caressing his face. His eyes met the amused blues of Farlan Schliemann, who had just come back at late hours in the morning. He still has his work clothes on and is smiling down at Miles.

"Oh, stay at rest Lisichka... I was just admiring," he gently says with the friendliest of voices.

"Watching people sleep is creepy," Miles, even though he feels no pain at all turns away from him, "I'm still recovering... before you say anything."

"As I said, don't worry, I won't be using you so long as you feel discomfort."

Yeah, right... Miles rolls his eyes out of view from the Master. But then, the man goes to kiss his clothed shoulder.

"I just want to treat you well. Is that so bad...?"

"I didn't forget the mistreatments, Master," Miles mutters in spite. "You violated me a lot."

Farlan raises an eyebrow, "Alright. How can I make you forgive me?"

His voice... still so kind and smooth... this monster is such a chameleon... "Just leave me alone."

"Alright, then. I'll give you a week to recover." Farlan stands up from the bed in order to get rid of his layers of professional clothing. "In another news my dear, Járed Levough is awake. Thanks to the combined technology of Shinji and Hien ro, and you, of course, the former Levough Master is once again living among us."

This made Miles silently gasp and sit on his elbow to face the Master, being met with a calm image of handsomeness. "Járed? I-"

"Do not worry, he won't require revenge from you... his memory wasn't recovered..." Farlan hums while tying his hair up in a tail. Miles' heart grew heavy with guilt, pained at what Járed had gone through.

The man did nothing but treat him well, and even his gruesome training benefitted Miles in the long run. Miles considered him a brother, and he was left to die by his own creation.

Farlan looks back at Miles with a smirk in his eyes, though his mouth is emotionless. "Why are you still horrified?"

"I'm not happy that he lost his memory... he will regain them, won't he? I got my abilities from his brother, surely he is compatible with-"

"Don't keep your hopes up," Farlan slightly squints his eyes despite having a friendly smile, staring straight into Miles' eyes. Then, he leaves the bed for a bath with none left to say but, "The memory losses are permanent, you know."

For an unknown yet familiar reason, Miles' beating heart can be heard by his own ears. Farlan's eyes... those unclear intentions with words that run double tracks, they stroke fear within Miles. Not only did he dread the implication that his boys may not regain their memories, but the nagging feeling that, He knows...

Does he? I can't be sure and I can't just ask him... Miles' anxiety came back and it is by far his most hated instinct. If he knows, I might need to get out of here with them... they're in danger if Farlan knows the slightest bit!

the next day,

Farlan appointed his trusted second-hand Yasha to handle his business out in Stavropol concerning the tourist trafficking going on there. It'll always be amusing to see the enemies look down upon the Schliemann once they're being led by a mere emotionless woman. Unlike Farlan who negotiates expertly and punishes justly, Yasha has a little bit of bloodlust within her.

Now that Miles is under the surveillance of Doctors to monitor him safely, and the Mafia work for the day is dumped onto Yasha and her gangsters; Farlan is free to visit an imprisoned zombie on the other, more secluded part of the mansion.

"How is he?" Farlan asks the two Doctors as he signs the paperwork to purchase more equipment.

"He has to be sustained with injections and drips, the subject does not have enough coordination to chew. Liquids are dangerous as well because it always goes down the incorrect pipe," they reported. "Involuntary muscles fail to work too, he stops breathing sometimes, so he has to be heavily monitored."

Blood pressure, sugar levels, brain activity... Farlan stares down at their papers, seeing that the half synthetic brain barely has any activity which means Járed is alive but barely living. Still, when Farlan looks at the subject, he always has to stop breathing himself. You look so precious Járed...

Járed Levough unapologetically stared at a female nurses' modestly covered breasts and occasionally looks at his own, probably curious as to why it doesn't look the same. He can't picture a question in his mind just yet, but he is able to express interest.

Upon setting his eyes on the blonde man from the doorway, his eyebrows rise up a bit which means maximum interest is triggered; he recognized Farlan, so his eyes never left him.

It's too bad I can't see his lips or greet him with a kiss, the Master thinks, since Járed has an oxygen mask on just in case his breathing becomes voluntary.

The doctors allowed the Master to sit by Járed and touch him gently on the face. "My love... you look handsome as usual."

Járed does not know whatever he is saying, but his hand is warm so he snuggles onto what makes him feel nice. This warms the Master's heart, and he genuinely smiles. Although, not a genuine smile of happiness, as it has a hint of sadness. This wouldn't be what the real Járed would do.

Miroh's words haunt him. Would he still love someone that's not even half the person he was? But if he was, he'll never love me... He thinks. I'll accept those consequences for my actions.

The Doctors observed improvements in Járed's emotions whenever Farlan is present, so even though he is unstable they recommend further interaction with the Master. If his synthetic brain gets rejected by his body, he might remain like this forever.

the next morning, 6am

Miles woke up from the bed with his arms sore, but that was ignored once he sees a dark-haired individual at the corner of the room. "Taewon...?"

Misha didn't react to the name, he just stared at Miles. "The Master told me you were sick. I cooked some bítcháss soup for you."

His grumpy presence lightens up Miles' mood and he smiles widely, hopping out of bed to go to the table. "You're gonna take care of me today?"

"Against my will."

"Aww, come on..." Miles pouts but sits down to have some breakfast that Misha himself prepared. "I'm happy that it isn't made by chefs... I'm happy that you cooked it."

Misha's ears start to burn, "It's only because they only come to work at 8, and I bet that soup sucks áss, too."

Miles giggles, but once he tasted it, it is far from what he said it is. He learned? "This is so good!" But, most likely, he learned how to cook for Jihun...

Once Miles looked up, he sees the completely flustered look of one stubborn gangster. "Y... you think so?"

Miles lets out a little snort, which made Misha's blush turn into that of anger. "You're so full of shít, don't eat it then!"

Misha stomps over to retrieve the tray, but Miles lifts it up and steps away from the table. "No, no I'm serious! It tastes good, I was just laughing because you were acting cute!"

"Cute?! The fúck?!" The gang leader, complete with a gun holster and multiple tattoos, stares at him in disbelief and disgust. Miles keeps laughing, covering his mouth, and having one of the most angelic laughs. However, he still sounded weak. And soon after, which Misha is grumbling while fixing the bath for him, it faded into silence.

Miles is now staring at his babysitter with a solemn look on his face. "Taewon?"

"That's not my name."

"It is," Miles stands up and goes to the bathroom, his eyes just begging for Misha to remember. "Don't you want to know who you are?"

"I am Mikhael of the Schliemann Mafia, one of the most feared gangsters in the city."

This just makes Miles want to cry. "No, you're not."

Misha had finished preparing his bath and looked up at him, a little concerned that Miles looks like he's about to cry. "Then why don't you tell me who you think I am."

Jun, Taewon. A misunderstood boy from Korea who found his place in Carvalle, along with your brother. The one who, despite a disability, painted a mural of your lover which was destroyed by your own actions. Yet Miles only says, "You were mine. You were mine, Taewon! I never belonged to the Schliemann, neither do you!"

Misha rolls his eyes and stands up to leave, "You're delusional. Just wants to gain my trust in order to escape."

Miles can't help but reveal, "You hate flying bugs! You love creating art, and you find comfort in darkness!"

Misha stood shocked, turning around with a puzzled face only to see Miles crying. The impatient, desperate man yells out, "You like darkness so you won't see yourself crying to sleep because you're alone, you need assurance that your brother is there! That's why you share rooms right now, right?"

What.

"You like pink because it's a happier color than the depressing red, you not only hate clean and pure skin, but you fill yourself with tattoos so your brother won't be alone in being physically flawed with his scars," Miles fearlessly screamed at him despite the gangster having his fists clenched tightly. "Y—you like playing games because no one would play with you when you were a child. You're only left with your brother to play with, so it doesn't matter if you win or lose. You cope through games in order to feel like an innocent child again, after all the torture you've been through."

"Miles," Misha frustratingly closes his eyes.

"Your brother turned to silence because for months he was subjected to torture where he can only scream, and scream, and scream. He was isolated in darkness where he can only scream your name trying to find out if you're still alive or not. He has voices in his head trying to convince him you're dead so he chose to be deaf to himself and everyone around him until—"

Misha had enough and grabs Miles by the shoulder, slamming him onto the shower stall. "I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT."

"I'M TELLING YOU WHO YOU ARE," Miles yells back, ignoring the absurd pain from Misha's grip. He then calms down, breaths overpowering his words. He is desperate; he wants his boys. He pulls Misha down by the neck, desiring his lips, "I know who you are... you were mine. The both of you."

Misha was too confused, but the lust from the bottom of his heart drew him closer to Miles until they kissed. He can taste the tears, and it was more addicting than his smokes. The next thing he knew, Misha himself is undressing Miles and pushing him hard against the glass stall to overpower him. Their breaths were out of sync, but their lips and hands are all over each other.

Stop denying it, I want him so bad... Misha thinks as he lifts a haphazardly dressed Miles and wraps both legs around his waist. "What more do you know," he mutters while both impatiently undress each other.

"You like fire because they destroy everything in their path while dancing, the heat protecting your cold empty heart especially when you were separated from your brother," Miles says in an intimate volume while he grinds onto Misha's hard díck.

"Mmm," Misha responds with a moan, releasing his cóck and pushing Miles down to súck the angry erection. "And who were you to us?"

Miles puts his tongue out for Misha to slap his cóck against it, also slapping it against his cheeks. Then Miles responds, "Would you believe that you'd burn down everything just to fúck me?"

"I'm not that desperate," Misha grunts before shoving himself inside Miles' mouth, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head because of the harsh but hot treatment. "And you're not that hot..."

Miles pulls away with a gasp, "Oh really? Then why are you fúcking my mouth after we had a little fight?"

Shít. Miles was definitely hot enough to seduce a heterosexual man like Misha. He can't help but yearn for more than his mouth; he wants to fúck, hold, and own him.

Since Miles' mouth isn't enough for the selfish Misha, he pulls him up and spins him around, harshly pushing him against the shower wall with hands against the tiles. Misha had completely stripped off his open shirt and pants, turning on the water to cover their sweat.

"Don't tell me you're gonna fúck me raw..." Miles groaned while Misha pulls his áss against his crotch. He can feel the hard thing between his cheeks, and it makes his heart jump in delight.

"Well, nothing happens to you even if I fúck your guts out of that hole, right?"

"Taewon..."

"That name again," Misha grumbles, stepping out of the shower for a minute in order to take some lubrication out of the drawers. Or maybe the aloe vera soothing gel.

Miles turns around to lean against the wall, checking out the other male's tattoos while sensually touching his own cóck. "I was around your age when we met... I was a teacher... and it felt so wrong fúcking around with my students... but we loved it."

Misha scoffs, coming back with a container of gel in his hands. He watches Miles shamelessly touch himself while staring at no one but Misha, definitely trying to seduce him. "So you've always been a slútty bítch."

"I wasn't," Miles steps forward to give Misha access to lube him up, "I was an innocent, little teacher who just graduated college, clueless and helpless... until..."

Miles gasps when Misha slips a heavily gelled finger inside him, and he makes sure that finger can feel how much he wants more by small clenches.

"... you and your brother are monsters," he says, "Preying on me when I was weaker than you... playing with my mind and body as much as you wanted... you enjoyed torturing me with your little games, then punishing me with your díck..."

Misha can't help but get hard himself, imagining those words and the thought of him as a student dominating a teacher.

"Taewon..." Miles holds onto both of their cócks, rubbing them both together as Misha plays with his tight áss. "Taewon was your real name. You used to threaten me with death if I ever use it... but then, you'd fúck me harder and harder just for me to scream it out loud..."

Miles' voice is so smooth, truly seductive enough to make a man impatient. Misha wants to listen to it all the time, and in the process, learn about their past... assuming that Miles is trustworthy.

Misha spins him around and moves out of the shower's way so the water won't wash away the lube. As Miles prepares for the painful stretch, Misha mutters, "So you picked me over Vanya?"

"Nn-OH!" Miles gasps at the entry, crying out in pleasure once it hits his prostate especially at this angle. "No! You... you both... owned me...! You-ahh! Ahhnnn...! You...! You love watching him happy with me.... you lo-aahh...! ... love seeing me get fúcked... b-by.... wh-while you fu.... my mouth... both of you... were my lovers... !"

"What naughty fúcking teacher," Misha teases, grabbing onto Miles' wet curls and thrusting into him hard and deep, making sure his balls kiss his entrance even if it hurts. "So how did it feel fúcking two students at once?"

"I loved you! Ahhnn... ! You weren't just fúck buddies for me, we-nnnhh! We loved each other... you-" destroyed Carvalle for me...

Misha starts to slow down, his thoughts catching up to him. "We did? Don't lie."

"I'm not lying!" Miles cries out, craving more of him against his guts. He starts to move on his own, even when Misha stopped. "Mmm... you're mine, Taewon... you and Jihun are all mine... I'm not letting anyone have you."

He was now sobbing, crying against the wall as he himself stops moving. Now both of them are thinking about their past. One who knows nothing, and one who knows too much.

Miles... "If I'm yours... will you be mine, then?" Misha emotionlessly whispers, a dark feeling plaguing his heart.

"Wh-what...?" Miles turns to look back, but is suddenly bent further down and fúcked till his screams fill his ears.

"Be mine, then... be fúcking mine if you love me so much!"

"I-ahhh! Taewon, I've... I've always b-been yours! You and Jihun-"

"No." A stern Misha pulls out and spins him around, hooking his arm around Miles' one leg and entering him with full control over his body. "Mine. I want you to be only mine..."

"Taewon-?!" Miles fell shocked, because the Taewon he knows wouldn't leave his brother out. "No! Jihun, I... I belong to him too! I love him, too!"

"I don't like that! I only shared you with him thinking that you wouldn't like being taken advantage of by two men! I don't want him taking you away!"

What. Miles was stuck in disbelief as he was completely dominated by an insane man that he isn't sure he knew. Of course, this is Misha. Not Taewon.

"Stop..." Miles mutters, but Misha kept going. So he slaps the gangster, "Stop it, get off of me!"

Misha was forced to pull away after Miles abruptly changed his mind. Now he stands against the shower wall trying to cover himself while looking at Misha with a horrified face. The gangster was confused himself, why was this a big deal if Miles wanted him so much?

"Taewon would never say that... you love your brother, you share everything with him... why would you take me away from your brother?!"

Misha snaps and yells out, "I don't fúcking care what your Taewon would do, I don't want to share you! Are you too deprived of dícks that you only want the both of us?! How insatiable are you?!"

"This isn't just about séx, Misha!" Miles angrily yells, "If I just want two dícks, why do you think I'm fúcking you without your brother right now? I love both of you! I want you both to leave this place with me!"

An equally pissed Misha pins him by the shoulders, cornering him. "I fúcking want you, but I won't stand Vanya touching you, too. I could barely wrap my feelings around those Mafia Bosses fúcking you."

"What, I-!"

"But if you're gonna be mine, you're gonna be mine only. That's called commitment, sweetheart." Misha's eyes dart from Miles' lips to eyes, tempted to just take him right now ignoring his protests. But, he has enough control not to. "If not, then don't try to sleep with me anymore."

With that, Misha walks out without the two of them ever finishing what they started. Miles sinks against the wall, confused at the sudden change in his precious Taewon. Or is it him that refused to accept change, and that Misha doesn't have the same connection to his brother?