Oh yes, 😈💋 dialing up the heat now — let's make this even more forbidden. We'll add a delicious age gap: a cold, dominant older mafia king and a soft, young, breakable doctor.
💀🔥 New Story Intro (with Age Gap)
Title: Mafia and His Doctor
❝A 33-year-old mafia boss with blood on his hands.
A 22-year-old doctor with innocence in his eyes.
He was supposed to save lives.
But the only thing he ended up losing… was himself.❞
Lucien Valez is 33 — feared, powerful, and lethal. The kind of man who doesn’t ask. He takes. Cities burn for him. Men kneel to him. And love? He thinks it’s weakness.
Until he’s wounded in a gunfight and forced into the hands of a young private doctor — Elián Reyes, 22, sweet and far too untouched for the world Lucien comes from.
🖤 Mafia and His Doctor –
The white rose lay on Elián’s desk, dew still clinging to its petals like a kiss that lingered too long. No note. Just thorns.
Lucien Valez hadn’t left a number. Not a name. But that wasn’t needed — he was the message.
Elián stared at the flower for a long time, trying to convince himself to throw it out. To forget the man. To go back to sutures and check-ups and normal life.
But normal didn’t feel the same anymore.
Lucien had left more than blood on his clinic table. He’d left heat in Elián’s skin, trembling in his bones, and a wicked curiosity in his heart that wouldn’t go away.
By evening, the rose was still there.
And by nightfall — so was Lucien.
He didn’t knock. Didn’t announce himself. The guards pushed the door open, and Lucien walked in like he owned the place, like Elián had simply been waiting for him.
This time, he wasn’t bleeding. But Elián swore the danger in him pulsed even stronger.
Lucien was wearing black — shirt unbuttoned halfway down, silver chain hanging at his throat, tattoos peeking through inked skin. He looked like sin carved into a man, and he moved like he expected the world to part for him.
He was 33, and everything about him showed it — the control, the scars, the weight in his stare.
Elián — ten years younger — felt like a boy in front of him.
“What do you want now?” Elián asked, voice tighter than he meant.
Lucien smirked. “You.”
Elián stepped back. “This isn’t a place for... whatever this is.”
“You stitched my body,” Lucien said, slowly walking forward. “Now I want you to know what it feels like when I undo yours.”
His voice was calm. Deep. Deadly.
“I’m not something you can own.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. “But you want to be.”
Elián’s breath caught.
“I saw it,” Lucien murmured. “The way you touched me. How your hands trembled when I bled all over your floor. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t scream.”
He was standing close now — too close. His scent was intoxicating: rain, smoke, danger. His hand rose, not to grab, but to caress the side of Elián’s face. A soft touch, terrifying in how it melted him.
“You don’t belong in white coats,” Lucien whispered. “You belong under me, Elián.”
Elián shuddered. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. But I know exactly what to do with boys like you.”
He didn’t kiss him.
He bit him.
Right at the base of the neck. A slow, claiming bite that wasn’t hard enough to break skin — but hard enough to leave Elián gasping, frozen, humiliated by the moan that slipped past his lips.
Lucien leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “That’s the sound I want to ruin.”
Elián pushed him away, cheeks burning, heart slamming in his chest. “Get out.”
Lucien didn’t fight it. He just smiled — smug, dangerous, satisfied.
“You’ll beg me next time,” he said, voice low. “I’ll make sure of it.”
And then, like a storm leaving ruin behind, he walked out into the night.
Elián stood there, shaking.
The rose on the desk wasn’t just a gift. It was a warning.
And Elián was already wilting.
Next: Episode 3 – The First Crack
Want it now, Zainab? 😈💋
The white rose lay on Elián’s desk, dew still clinging to its petals like a kiss that lingered too long. No note. Just thorns.
Lucien Valez hadn’t left a number. Not a name. But that wasn’t needed — he was the message.
Elián stared at the flower for a long time, trying to convince himself to throw it out. To forget the man. To go back to sutures and check-ups and normal life.
But normal didn’t feel the same anymore.
Lucien had left more than blood on his clinic table. He’d left heat in Elián’s skin, trembling in his bones, and a wicked curiosity in his heart that wouldn’t go away.
By evening, the rose was still there.
And by nightfall — so was Lucien.
He didn’t knock. Didn’t announce himself. The guards pushed the door open, and Lucien walked in like he owned the place, like Elián had simply been waiting for him.
This time, he wasn’t bleeding. But Elián swore the danger in him pulsed even stronger.
Lucien was wearing black — shirt unbuttoned halfway down, silver chain hanging at his throat, tattoos peeking through inked skin. He looked like sin carved into a man, and he moved like he expected the world to part for him.
He was 33, and everything about him showed it — the control, the scars, the weight in his stare.
Elián — ten years younger — felt like a boy in front of him.
“What do you want now?” Elián asked, voice tighter than he meant.
Lucien smirked. “You.”
Elián stepped back. “This isn’t a place for... whatever this is.”
“You stitched my body,” Lucien said, slowly walking forward. “Now I want you to know what it feels like when I undo yours.”
His voice was calm. Deep. Deadly.
“I’m not something you can own.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. “But you want to be.”
Elián’s breath caught.
“I saw it,” Lucien murmured. “The way you touched me. How your hands trembled when I bled all over your floor. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t scream.”
He was standing close now — too close. His scent was intoxicating: rain, smoke, danger. His hand rose, not to grab, but to caress the side of Elián’s face. A soft touch, terrifying in how it melted him.
“You don’t belong in white coats,” Lucien whispered. “You belong under me, Elián.”
Elián shuddered. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. But I know exactly what to do with boys like you.”
He didn’t kiss him.
He bit him.
Right at the base of the neck. A slow, claiming bite that wasn’t hard enough to break skin — but hard enough to leave Elián gasping, frozen, humiliated by the moan that slipped past his lips.
Lucien leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “That’s the sound I want to ruin.”
Elián pushed him away, cheeks burning, heart slamming in his chest. “Get out.”
Lucien didn’t fight it. He just smiled — smug, dangerous, satisfied.
“You’ll beg me next time,” he said, voice low. “I’ll make sure of it.”
And then, like a storm leaving ruin behind, he walked out into the night.
Elián stood there, shaking.
The rose on the desk wasn’t just a gift. It was a warning.
And Elián was already wilting.
Next: Episode 3 – The First Crack
Want it now, my little red flag? 😈💋
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Comments
Velvet-Roses
i love it so far!/Drool/
2025-06-09
0