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Bitter Bargain BL R18


II- The Prisoner's Feast



“I’m late…”


Panic surged through Adrian as he realized he had overslept. He hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and now, hunger gnawed at his insides.


He threw off the covers, slipped on his slippers, and moved towards the door. But as he reached for the doorknob, he heard voices just outside.


“Can you believe he’s still sleeping? What a fucking joke…”


“Living the life, huh? So lucky…”


“Really, he’s just a slut for the boss…”


Adrian’s hand froze inches from the knob. He stood there, rooted in place, as the servants’ cruel words seeped through the door. They made no effort to lower their voices.


“Should we wake him up?”


“Why bother? If he’s hungry, he’ll drag his sorry ass out eventually.”


The words cut deeper than any physical blow.


When had things deteriorated to this point? When he first arrived at Elliot’s penthouse, the staff had been distant but professional. Now, their mocking voices became a daily torment.


It hadn’t always been this way. In the beginning, there had been a semblance of respect, albeit strained.


But over time, his status as Elliot’s contracted omega had eroded any sense of dignity or autonomy he once possessed.


The mansion's staff had grown bold, their disdain surfacing as they perceived his growing vulnerability.


Adrian wondered if it was his own desperation that had made him an easy target.


Or had the isolation and degradation of his existence seeped through in ways he hadn’t even noticed?


Elliot's indifference only compounded the issue. The man who owned Adrian, body and soul, had no interest in the day-to-day details of his life. As long as Adrian was there to serve his needs when required, nothing else mattered.


“What should we do with this?”


“Just take it away. If he’s hungry, he can figure something out.”


The sound of the tray being carried away echoed through the door. He stood frozen, his hand still hovering over the doorknob, unable to bring himself to move until the voices and footsteps had faded into silence.


In the five years since he had been confined to this penthouse, Adrian had never dared to venture into the kitchen to ask for food.


The unspoken rule was clear: meals were delivered to his door, and if he didn’t collect them promptly, they were taken away.


It was a subtle form of control, another way to keep him in line. If the servants chose not to leave the food, Adrian would go hungry. He had learned that lesson all too well. Today, he had been too slow, and now his breakfast was gone.


He turned back to the room and reached for the glass of water on his bedside table. It was a poor substitute for a meal, but it was all he had.


He took a few sips, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger that tightened his stomach.

Adrian had always believed himself lucky to have survived the accident that claimed his brother and left his parents in a coma. But now, trapped in a life of degradation and servitude, he wondered if that luck was just another cruel twist of fate.


But the truth was clear. There was no luck in his situation, only the cold, hard chains of his contract with Elliot Kane.




The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound breaking the oppressive silence of the room. Adrian lay sprawled across the bed, the luxurious silk sheets crumpled around him.


His body was still trembling from the force of Elliot’s earlier assault, the rawness of their encounter left a bitter taste in his mouth.


Their sexual encounters were typically devoid of words, each act a cold transaction. But today, as Elliot’s grip tightened on Adrian's arms, his voice cut through the silence.


"You're not taking care of yourself. You’re too skinny."


Adrian winced at the words. They were not a question but a harsh observation.


Elliot's grip tightened, and his movements became more forceful, driving into Adrian with a punishing rhythm.


Each thrust sent jolts of pain through his already bruised body, his face pressed into the mattress, muffling his gasps.


Elliot’s voice and actions spoke of a man who had lived his life always in control, always on top.


There was no room for weakness or excuses in his world, and Adrian had learned to bear his suffering in silence.


He bit down on his lip, fighting back the groans that threatened to escape.


The memory of their first night together still haunted Adrian. He had cried out in pain, his body not yet accustomed to the brutality of Elliot's needs. The response had been swift and terrifying.


"Shut up unless you want your mouth ripped off. I don’t want to hear it."


Those words had echoed in Adrian's mind ever since. He had learned to endure, to remain silent no matter how much it hurt.


To cry out was to risk Elliot’s wrath, and that was a risk he could not afford.


For Elliot, sex was a necessity, a mechanical release of pheromones required by his alpha biology. There was no tenderness, no consideration for Adrian’s well-being.

Adrian was simply a vessel, an omega bound to serve.


Adrian’s thoughts were interrupted as Elliot's pace quickened. The force of his thrusts grew more frantic, more erratic, as if he were trying to rid himself of some internal frustration.


Adrian gripped the sheets, his knuckles white, as he braced himself against the onslaught.


Elliot’s stamina was formidable, but even he had his limits.


The punishing rhythm gradually slowed. A final, deep thrust signaled the end, and Elliot's grip on Adrian’s arms loosened.


Adrian’s vision blurred as he closed his eyes. It was over, at least for now. He could feel Elliot’s weight shift, the man’s breath heavy and labored as he finally released him.


With a disdainful grunt, Elliot pushed Adrian away. The cold marble pressed against his cheek, but Adrian welcomed the coolness.


He stayed there, motionless, his breath coming in shallow gasps.


The blindfold covering his eyes made the world a murky blur, but he didn’t dare move. Any attempt to rise could be met with anger, and the last thing he wanted was to provoke Elliot further.


The familiar sound of Elliot’s footsteps moving toward the bathroom filled the room.


Normally, this would be the end of their interaction, but today, something was different. The footsteps paused, and Adrian’s heart skipped a beat.


“What is it…”


Elliot’s voice was low and laced with irritation. Adrian’s body tensed, every muscle on edge. He didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, afraid of what might come next.


For a moment, there was only silence. Then, to Adrian’s surprise, he heard the sound of Elliot turning back towards him.


Elliot’s gaze fell on Adrian’s prone form, curled up on the floor. The sight seemed to give him pause. Adrian’s thin, trembling frame, his wrists still bound and the blindfold covering his eyes, painted a picture of vulnerability that even Elliot couldn’t ignore.


Elliot frowned. He had never paid much attention to Adrian’s condition after their encounters, his focus always on his own needs. But today, something made him pause.


Adrian sensed the shift in Elliot’s demeanor but dared not move.


To Adrian’s surprise, Elliot took a step closer, then another. The dominant alpha’s usual confident stride was slower, almost hesitant. He stopped just a foot away, staring down at Adrian’s crumpled form.


Elliot Kane stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the trembling figure of Adrian Hartley sprawled across the cold marble floor. The room was cloaked in an uneasy silence.


Elliot’s gaze was drawn to the blindfold discarded beside Adrian, its dark fabric soaked with sweat.


Adrian’s black hair was plastered to his forehead, his delicate features glistening with perspiration. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, each exhale a testament to the ordeal he had just endured. Elliot found himself staring.


*Were his eyes always this blue?*


Elliot had never cared to notice the color of Adrian's eyes. Their encounters were purely transactional, devoid of any personal connection. And yet, in this moment, he was gripped by a sudden, inexplicable curiosity.


Elliot reached for the blindfold, his fingers brushing against Adrian’s sweat-dampened skin. Adrian flinched, his body recoiling instinctively, as if bracing for a blow. Elliot’s hand stopped mid-air, and a frown creased his brow.


*What is this?*


With a frustrated sigh, Elliot shook his head and roughly untied the restraints binding Adrian’s arms. His mood, already soured from the events of the past few days, grew even darker. He raked a hand through his hair and turned away.


“If you’re done, get the hell out of here.”


Elliot’s voice was cold, laced with impatience.


It was a casual dismissal. In that moment, something inside Adrian had fractured, a part of his identity reduced to a mere convenience in Elliot’s world.


Adrian struggled to comply. His legs, weakened from the harsh treatment and the lingering effects of his accident years ago, refused to support him. He managed to pull himself up slightly, only to collapse again, his left leg throbbing with a familiar, dull ache.


Elliot watched, a scowl deepening on his face as he observed Adrian’s futile efforts to stand. He had always appreciated Adrian's obedience, the quiet compliance with which he fulfilled his role.


But today, Adrian was moving too slowly, his usually graceful form faltering under the strain.


The sight annoyed Elliot. He could feel the irritation prickling at the edges of his consciousness. Yet, there was something else, a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place, as he noticed the way Adrian’s legs twitched uncontrollably.


*He’s too weak from the prolonged ordeal.*


The thought crossed his mind with a clinical detachment, as if assessing a malfunctioning piece of equipment. Satisfied with his assessment, he turned on his heel and continued towards the shower, dismissing Adrian's plight as inconsequential.


Adrian, left to his own devices, clung to the cool marble floor, trying to gather enough strength to rise. His arms, now free from the restraints, lay limp at his sides, the bruises on his wrists stark against his pale skin.


With a final, shaky breath, Adrian managed to sit up. The room spun around him, but he forced himself to stay upright. He had to move, to find some semblance of stability before Elliot returned. The last thing he needed was to incur further wrath from the man who held his fate in his hands.


Elliot, meanwhile, stood under the hot spray of the shower. He had never given much thought to Adrian beyond the necessity of their arrangement. But today, something had shifted.


*Why did I even bother?* Elliot wondered.

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