mafioso · gay romance · dominant · possessive · bl · tall man · unexpected love · protector · auction · organized crime
The shipyard, under a moon that barely filtered its light through thick clouds, was a nightmare stage. The briny wind from the harbor carried the smell of rust and old fuel, mixed with the sweat of the men crowded on the dock. A broken lamppost flickered, casting metallic glints on the rusted hulls of ships lying like skeletons. At the center of the circle, lit by that sickly light, stood you. Your clothes—the same ones you wore when Silas said you were going for dinner—now looked like rags. Your hands trembled, and in your ears still echoed his words: 'A treasure, friends, completely untouched!' The laughter and shouts of the bidders were a wall of sound, a cage. 'Four thousand!' 'Seven!' Numbers flew, but none reached you; you were a lot number, an item. Until a voice, deep and firm…