10 - "Friends don't look at each other like that."

"Cheap little rhymes A cheap little tune

Are sometimes as dangerous As a sliver of the moon."

― Langston Hughes

. . .

Xerxes had to go to some important meeting but Ashton decided to stick around.

He was sat down beside me on the ground. "Why make it when you can...buy it?"

I dropped the pigment on the glass sheet with my gloved hands. "I like making it," I told him, grabbing the spatula and making a small hole in the middle of the pigment.

"I want to help," Ashton said, picking up the linseed oil. "Tell me what to do."

"Okay." I picked up the dropper and gave it to him along with a pair of gloves. He wore the gloves which stretched over his hands. Wearing those gloves and looking like he did, he looked like a typical fantasy doctor.

He ran a hand through his hair, a habit from what I had gathered, and picked the dropper up.

"Just drop the oil in the middle slowly," I instructed. It felt weird to instruct him. It felt like he should be giving the instructions. Even though it was clear he did not know how to make oil paint.

He nodded and dropped the oil in the middle of the heap I mixed it a little with the spatula. He kept dropping the oil till I stopped him.

I picked the muller up.

"I want to do that," Ashton said, taking it from me. "How?"

I almost smiled at how excited he looked. A wolf playing sheep. "W-we have to get an even texture," I explained taking his hand, which felt warm even with the barrier of gloves, and led it down to the glass sheet. I let him press the muller on pigment and then gently rotate it. I could feel his eyes on me but I kept my eyes fixed on the glass sheet, feeling my cheeks heat up under his gaze.

After some time, I let go of his hand and he did it on his own, now concentrating on the paint. This time I watched him from the corner of my eye. A strand of his hair was dancing down his forehead, his glasses were on the tip of his nose, giving me some clear view of his sparkling green eyes. His pink lips were slightly parted.

"Friends don't look at each other like that," he said, putting the muller away and looked at me. His gaze heated. Not playing sheep anymore.

I swallowed, my studio apartment suddenly felt smaller.

"I was looking at your...glasses," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat up at his intense gaze.

He took his gloves off and threw them on the ground. I watched with wide eyes as he grabbed my waist and pulled me onto his lap in a way that I was straddling him.

"Ashton.." I whispered trying to get off. He nudged the tip of my nose with his. I could feel his hot breath on me, fanning my lips. My hands fisted on his jacket, my breath trembling at the soft touch of him. His hands on my waist felt warm and right.

He felt right. They felt right. It did not make sense.

"Little one," he murmured. "Little girl." He pressed his lips to my jaw. I gasped, pressing myself closer to him. "I'll ruin you," he whispered in my ear, lips brushing over my earlobe. "I'll ruin that sweet innocence of yours till you are begging underneath me." He chuckled. I shivered wildly, drunk on the feeling of him. "I will hurt you." His hands gripped my ass, squeezing harshly. I whimpered.

That seemed to snap him out. He gently pushed me off his lap and stood up. He didn't look at me as he grabbed the keys from the counter and walked out, slamming the door shut which made me flinch.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

My cheeks were red and my eyes were bright. My breathing was heavy as if I had just run miles.

This was bad. I was attracted to him, but then I was attracted to his brothers, too. This was unfair to the three of them. We were friends. If I had not looked at him like that he would have not touched me.

What was wrong with me? I knew a part of me was still cautious of them. I did not trust them fully. I could not till I had the confirmation that they weren't mafia men. But I obviously let him touch me without trust.

An idiot. I was an idiot. He probably felt awkward.

I spent the rest of the day making oil paints and trying not to think about them.

I was never a man with conflicting thoughts. Everything in my head was aligned, in a pattern, in a way it made sense. I knew how to sort through my emotions, I knew how to suppress them. You learn a thing or two after having a life as I did.

The only person in the whole fucking universe who threatened to disrupt the perfect order of my mind was her.

Olivia Woods.

A pretty little thing I wanted to hurt and pleasure, that was all I thought she was when I first saw her. But then I saw her again, and again, and again. And I found myself being mesmerized.

She was...innocent. She knew how cruel the world was, I knew that, but she was innocent in ways that made her a kind of a woman me or my brothers

rarely interacted with. We didn't like the hassle of training. You always need to train your new sub but training someone new to this whole world was hard work and sometimes ended up with the sub running for the hills.

Olivia...I could imagine her on her knees, following my orders, being a good girl. But I did not know how she liked to be pleasured.

If I had stayed in that cute little apartment of hers for one more minute, I would have turned her ass red, kissed her lips till they were swollen, and probably fuck her all day long.

I sat down on my chair, looking out of the window of my office. The sun was setting. I had let some frustration out in the gym after I left her apartment. If she let me, let us touch her, we'd ruin her.

She was too fucking sweetfor us. I got a taste today and I was already addicted. The feel of her small and soft body against me was...addicting. It felt like that was where she belonged - on my lap.

We saw her on the first day of college. I liked staying interacted with the NYU and Yale and sometimes NASA. It was something to keep my head occupied with.

We had seen her in a cafe, the same cafe she was now working at. She has been wearing this pretty pink dress with her hair down, an innocent mischievous smile on her face as she talked to her friend.

I had been mesmerized. Her innocence played a big part in what attracted me to her but that was not all, she...she intrigued me. I found myself wanting to know every inch of her, physically and mentally.

The door slammed open. "Fuck off, Brown."

He did not fuck off.

He marched inside the office and put his tatted hands in the pockets of his suit. His afro was pulled back in a ponytail and he looked serious as fuck

which I knew could not be good. Michael rarely shifted away from what Zavier called 'unicorn behavior' "You know that warehouse Valentinos have in Watertown?"

"Yes." This could not be good.

"It was bombed tonight."

A few days back, when Zavier had gone on shopping with Little one, one of our warehouses was bombed in Plattsburg.

"It's the Russians," I said because there was no other explanation. Michael nodded. "People are getting jittery...questioning power." I chuckled. "Are they?'

"Yes," he muttered. "You and your brothers need to make an example out of someone."

I hummed. "That we will."

. . .