Scarlet Obsession

Elian stormed into the wildly decorated bedroom, already peeling off every layer of clothing on him. He threw the million dollar suit on him to the floor and turned to glare at his rival, aka his husband, who just walked past him, pretending as if he wasn't even standing there.

Anger boiled in him as he stared at the broad back of Dex Russo, a dangerous and ruthless Mafia Boss, who was now his husband. The thought alone spiked the anger already boiling in him and before he could think, he unsheathed his dagger and aimed at the back of his head, but Dex turned just in time to pin him roughly against the wall, his back against Dex's very broad chest, and his large, rough hands found Elian's throat immediately.

In such unfavourable state, Elian still had it in him to twist his neck sideways and glare at his husband, whose eyes were filled with a type of craze Elian knew too well, he'd seen it a lot in the past few years of rivalry with him, such a shame that the man he once swore to hate to death was the one he was now bounded to.

Dex twisted his wrist and snatched the blade from Elian's grip, he tossed it to the side and smirked back at him. "You look disappointed Elian.' He hissed, his thumb pressing hard against Elian's pulse just enough to feel the frantic rythm. "Did you think I'd let my guard down enough to let you play your stupid tricks?"

Elian's glare dissolved into a sharp grin and he leaned back into Dex's chest, his eyes dancing with some kind of maniac light as he looked into his eyes, they were nose to nose, eyes to eyes, and lips barely away from each other. Another knife he'd hidden in his sleeve dropped into his caged hand and he pointed it at Dex's torso. Dex looked down and glared back up at Elian.

"I'd be surprised if you didn't try to choke me Dex." Elian said softly and twisted himself out of Dex's hold. He raised the knife and placed it against Dex's chin, pressing it dangerously close to his skin. "But don't get too comfortable. I'm pretty sure you know that already." He whispered in his face and stalked off to the other side of the bedroom and began taking the rest of his clothes off.

Dex stared at him with a strange heat in his eyes. Those dark eyes of his, filled with irritation? Anger? They were glued to Elian's skin as he slowly undressed himself. When Elian was done, he turned to look at Dex, whose eyes were still on him.

"I'll be taking a shower now." He announced, not giving a damn about the fact that he was naked.

"No you're not." Dex said evenly.

"And who are you to stop me?" He sneered and tried to walk past him to the bathroom but Dex grabbed him again for the second time that night, he twisted Elian's arms behind his back, forcing a genuine gasp of pain from him and hauled him on to the massive bed covered with roses.

They hit the bed like two collapsing stars and Dex pinned Elian's wrists above his head with a single hand and rested his weight on him, his breaths came out in short pants as he locked eyes with Elian's crazed filled ones. And Elian, despite being pinned heavily to the bed, used his legs to hook Dex's waist and pulled him impossibly close, his teeth grazing Dex's earlobe.

"You're shaking husband. Is it the hate? Or are you finally succumbing to me?" He whispered in his ear.

Dex smirked and turned his head to meet his eyes, their noses barely inches away from each other, and their lips a breathe away from touching. "Am I?" He asked and made a move to grab Elian's dick.

Elian's eyes widened as he saw what Dex was about to do, and on instinct, he kicked him in the torso and grabbed the gun placed by the side table. Dex grunted in pain at the kick and looked at Elian who already had the gun pointed in his face, he doged just in time as two bullets flew past him and broke the mirror into pieces.

"You fucking bitch!" Dex roared and lunged at Elian.

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An hour later, the room was a wreck. The bedside lamp lay scattered, blown apart by no doubt, a bullet. The smell of gunpowder filled the room, the roses on the bed barely remained on the bed and was mostly scattered and crushed on the floor. The silk sheets of the bed was half torn and the dressing mirror layed on the floor in a million pieces.

Dex sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, Elian had tore the shirt off him like an animal in the middle of their mission to unalive each other. He lit a cigarette and let out puffs of smoke, wincing when he felt the scratches on his back pulsate.

'My husband is a fucking animal.' he thought to himself as he continued to inhale and exhale smoke.

Behind him, Elian sprawled on the bed, breathless and bruised. He now wore a bathrobe to cover his nakedness but did nothing to cover the red bruise around his neck from where Dex choked him to get him to drop the gun. He stared at the ceiling with a terrifying contentment.

Then at Dex's bruised back, he smiled maniacally, sickly satisfied at his work. He reached out with his foot and slowly traced the scratch marks with his toe. Dex turned abruptly and smacked his leg away.

He took out the cigarette from between his lips and slowly puffed out smoke, making deadly eye contact with Elian.

"If you try to kill me in my sleep." He started slowly. "Make sure you don't miss. Because if I wake up, you'll wish I'd blown your fucking head off tonight."

Elian let out a loud hysteric laugh. "Promise?"