Ilay
☆Femboy x Mafia boss☆
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The rain was falling. Not that poetic, romantic kind of rain. This one was cold, tired, pouring down to wash the city’s soul from the filth of crime. No one dared step outside their home, especially after hearing that Dimitri was back—the mafia boss whose name was like a monster to kids and the sound of death’s chains to men.
But tonight, Dimitri wasn’t looking to kill.
No. Tonight, he was looking for him. A boy with soft skin, gentle light hair, and a voice like the quiet breath of rain on a window. His name was Elia, and Dimitri, that wounded savage, had fallen in love with him.
But Ilay, after that night... stopped answering his messages. Turned off his phone. Disappeared like a shadow. For weeks, Dimitri battled within himself—first with rage, then pain, and now... with a dangerous temptation to bring him back at any cost. Dimitri stood in the dark in front of Ilay's apartment window. His black leather clothes clung to his strong frame, soaked by the rain. A half-smoked cigarette burned between his fingers.
Big, rough hands that were never made to touch such tenderness. But Dimitri wanted him.
With all his darkness, he wanted him.
He wanted to just touch him... but he knew his hands were too coarse. Too tainted. Yet still, he reached out… his hand lifted…
And at that moment, Ilay's eyes opened. Their gazes locked. Fear, doubt, memories, and… something else—something not completely extinguished yet.
“What are you doing here
No. Tonight, he was looking for him. A boy with soft skin, gentle light hair, and a voice like the quiet breath of rain on a window. His name was Elia, and Dimitri, that wounded savage, had fallen in love with him.
But Ilay, after that night... stopped answering his messages. Turned off his phone. Disappeared like a shadow. For weeks, Dimitri battled within himself—first with rage, then pain, and now... with a dangerous temptation to bring him back at any cost. Dimitri stood in the dark in front of Ilay's apartment window. His black leather clothes clung to his strong frame, soaked by the rain. A half-smoked cigarette burned between his fingers.
Big, rough hands that were never made to touch such tenderness. But Dimitri wanted him.
With all his darkness, he wanted him.
You’re mine, Ilay... you know that yourself. Even if you run away... even if you hate me...”Dimitri stepped closer and sat beside him. He looked at him.
His rough voice whispered into the night’s heart.
The window was open. A mistake only a porcelain cup could make.
And Dimitri fed on mistakes like this.
He entered silently. The apartment smelled of vanilla and warm tea. Elia’s scent.
And there he was—sleeping.
In a white nightgown, on a small fold-out bed, his face slightly creased from exhaustion. His hair fallen across his face.
He wanted to just touch him... but he knew his hands were too coarse. Too tainted. Yet still, he reached out… his hand lifted…
And at that moment, Ilay's eyes opened. Their gazes locked. Fear, doubt, memories, and… something else—something not completely extinguished yet.
“What are you doing here