Salvatore looked at Milo, sensing the nervous energy radiating from the young man. He smiled, not the sharp, probing smile from before, but something more playful.

He reached out, his hand hovering near Milo’s collar.

Milo gulped. He felt his face burning. But before he could even say or do anything, Salvatore stopped.

His phone buzzed.

He walked to his desk to answer it.

"Hello, Ben." A pause. He listened, then gestured toward Milo’s shirt with a casual circular motion. Open it.

He meant the buttons, obviously.

"No, it’s fine," he said into the phone. "Just bring it here."

A minute or so into his conversation with Ben, when he glanced back at Milo while Ben was talking, his jaw dropped.

Milo had taken off everything. The shirt was on the floor. The trousers were on the floor. Everything was on the floor.

The young man stood next to the desk in nothing but the afternoon light, cupping his manhood with both hands, looking genuinely uncertain whether he had done something wrong.

Salvatore hung up the phone without realizing he had done it.

He stood there for a moment.

"Milo," he said, very carefully. "What are you doing?"

Milo blinked, confused. "You said ’open all.’"

"I meant your buttons."

Milo looked at the shirt on the floor. Looked back up. His face cycled through several emotions before settling on mortified. "Ah..."

He realized it was too late.

"I mean your shirt."

"I’m sorry!"

Salvatore pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He sighed, then crossed the desk. He looked at Milo for a second before placing both hands on Milo’s hips and lifting him onto the edge of the desk in one smooth motion.

"Ah! Sir...!" Milo let out a startled sound and grabbed the edge of the desk.

"You," Salvatore said, settling in front of him with a look of resigned amusement, "seem to enjoy being naked in front of people."

Many times, Milo had been naked in front of him.

"I... don’t," Milo said, his voice rising. The flush had reached the tops of his ears. "I thought... you—"

Milo gulped. He looked at Salvatore nervously. He didn’t feel the cold on his skin. He was too embarrassed.

Salvatore wasn’t listening anymore. His attention had dropped to Milo’s chest, to the golden rings catching the light. He reached up slowly, giving Milo time to pull back if he wanted to.

Milo didn’t pull back. He just froze.

Salvatore touched the edge of one ring with his thumb, carefully, just checking the skin around it. It wasn’t red anymore. The intense heat from the first few days had faded into something more settled.

Milo flinched slightly at the touch.

"Still painful?" Salvatore asked, his voice lower now.

"Just... a little." Milo’s hands had let go of the desk’s edge. He didn’t know where to put them. "Not... as bad as before."

He found it hard to breathe. How was he supposed to breathe normally with such a handsome, intimidating man touching his nipple?

Salvatore nodded, his thumb tracing a small, idle arc. He was being clinical about it. He was trying to focus on it.

Milo’s breathing had grown shallow and uneven.

"You’re the one who showed me your body, and now you’re the one who’s nervous," Salvatore said.

Milo took a deep breath. "I wasn’t trying to flirt with you, Sir... It was just a misunderstanding."

Salvatore smiled; he let his hands settle on Milo’s sides instead, and in doing so, his palms found the young man’s back.

He paused.

His expression changed, the amusement fading, replaced by something more cautious. He turned Milo slightly, just enough to see.

Milo was confused. He felt Salvatore’s large hand on his back. So warm.

The scars ran across his back in irregular lines. Some thinner, some deeper.

"These," Salvatore said quietly. "Did Nero do this?"

Milo tensed under his hands. "Yes," he said, as if the name tasted like something stale. "Last time was the worst. I ran away, but they brought me back. And he hit me."

Salvatore said nothing for a moment. His thumbs moved slowly along either side of Milo’s spine, examining.

"Painful?" he asked.

Milo considered the question more honestly than Salvatore expected. "Not really," he said.

Salvatore looked up at his face.

Milo was staring at the wall somewhere beyond Salvatore’s shoulder, his expression quiet. A little tired. The flush hadn’t faded from his cheeks.

Salvatore held that gaze for a moment. "Tell me if it hurts. I’ll take you to the doctor. We need to check it."

Milo nodded. "Thank you, Sir."

He covered his manhood with his hands.

Salvatore smiled. "Alben will be here today. Let’s see if we can get it off today."

Milo nodded again.

Salvatore looked at Milo with concern, and he felt something inside his chest that was starting to feel dangerous. Something he’d avoided for years.

But he couldn’t help but feel it for the cute young man in front of him. Something inside him wanted to pull Milo close and hug him.

But he didn’t do it now.

"Never get naked in front of anyone," Salvatore said.

Milo swallowed hard and nodded. "I... I didn’t want to."

"But you did it."

"I’m sorry, my body just got used to it."

"Even if Nero is here to force you, never get naked in front of him. I’ll train you to fight."

Milo giggled and looked down. "Thank you, sir."

Milo looked at Salvatore. "C-can I get down now?"

Salvatore crossed his arms. "No."

Milo swallowed hard. Silence. He looked at Salvatore, who looked so serious.

"What will you do if I say no?" Salvatore asked.

Milo thought hard.

"You still need to think about it?"

Milo held his breath.

"Well, it’s your body. You have the final say. Not me, or anyone else. Even if I ask you to be naked and you’re not comfortable with it, just refuse," Salvatore said.

Milo looked at Salvatore. "You’re going to ask me to get naked?"

Salvatore chuckled. "I don’t need to ask you, you’re always naked anyway."

Milo pouted. He tried to get down and reach for his clothes.

Just then, the door opened.

"Sal! Look what I—"

Alben walked in confidently but soon stopped, his mouth hanging open in amusement.

Salvatore stared at Alben, who was now holding his breath.

Milo let out a small, panicked noise and clutched his clothes in his arms.

Salvatore pulled Milo to sit down on his chair, hiding his nakedness from view. At least his lower half was covered now.

"I thought you’d come tonight!" Salvatore said.

Alben still couldn’t hide his amusement. "Well... sorry to interrupt you. But I was here. I asked you if I should put the things inside. I was in the car."

"Damn... we didn’t do anything. Get out now. Let the boy put his clothes on."

Alben chuckled. "I know you want him for yourself, that’s why you didn’t want me to touch him."

"Don’t be ridiculous. We didn’t do anything."

"Well, I saw that."

Salvatore held Alben in the middle of the room, keeping him from getting too close to the desk. He looked at Milo, who was now putting on his shirt.

Milo’s hands were shaking so violently that he could barely grip the fabric of his trousers. The cotton felt rough against his skin, a stark contrast to the heavy, warm air of the office.

He stayed tucked behind the high back of Salvatore’s leather chair, trying to pull his pants up without falling over. Every time he heard Alben’s laughter, a fresh wave of heat crawled up his neck.

Salvatore stood in the center of the room, his back to Milo. He was a physical wall, his broad shoulders completely blocking Alben’s line of sight.

"Can I see him too?" Alben asked.

"You’ll remove his rings. Don’t touch anything else."

"Wow, wow, why so possessive? I’ll just take a look."

"Can you stop being such a pervert? Aren’t you tired?"

Alben laughed. "What pervert? It’s normal to look at such a cutie."

Milo managed to get his trousers on, but he fumbled with the button. He felt exposed and small.

The conversation felt like it was happening over his head. He was used to being treated as an object, but the way Salvatore tried to defend him really warmed his heart.

"If you’re ready, just leave. We’ll do your rings tonight," Salvatore said to Milo.

He shifted to the left when Alben tried to pass him.

Alben chuckled and tried to step to the right. Salvatore shifted again, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor. It was a silent, tense dance.

"Come on, Sal. You’re being stingy," Alben teased. He reached out, his hand moving as if to playfully shove Salvatore aside so he could get to the desk. "I’ve seen him before. It’s not like there’s anything new to see, right? Or did you add some marks of your own?"

"Damn, Ben!" Salvatore snapped.

As Alben’s hand moved closer to Salvatore’s chest, Salvatore’s arm moved in a blur. He caught Alben’s wrist in mid-air. The sound of the grip was audible in the quiet room.

"I’m not going to tell you again," Salvatore said. The amusement had vanished from his face. His eyes were cold.

"He is not a toy for you to poke at. That means you don’t touch him unless he wants you to."

Alben’s smile faltered for a second. He looked at his trapped wrist, then back at Salvatore. He realized he had pushed the boundary too far. He slowly relaxed his arm, and Salvatore let go.

"Fine, fine. You’re no fun at all," Alben muttered, though he still looked curious. He raised his voice, calling out toward the chair.

"Hey, Milo! Are you still back there? You should hurry up. Salvatore’s making a face like he’s about to shoot someone, and I’d rather it wasn’t me."

Milo finally got his shoes on. He stepped out from behind the chair, his shirt half-tucked and his hair a mess. He kept his head down, staring at the floor. He felt the weight of both men’s stares on him.

"I’m... I’m done," Milo whispered.

Alben’s eyes lit up as Milo stepped into view. He moved forward, his hand reaching out instinctively toward Milo’s shoulder. "There he is. You look like a mess, sweetie. Let me fix that collar for you—"

Before Alben’s fingers could brush the fabric, Salvatore grabbed his hand again. He glared, forcing Alben to stop.

"Get out, Milo," Salvatore commanded, without turning around. "Or he’ll eat you right here."

Milo didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted toward the door, his feet moving fast. As he passed Alben, he felt the man’s eyes tracing the lines of his body, but he didn’t look back. He reached the heavy oak door and pulled it open.

Milo gulped. He hoped that Alben would remove his rings without any ulterior motives later.

But who knows.