(Takes place before the Prologue)
"Shoot me, Angel."
The words hung in the air—a challenge, a plea, a silent dare.
"You—! You've gone mad!" Angel shouted.
But Tony only stared into those pretty violet eyes—wide with shock, trembling with horror—his gun shaking in Angel's delicate grip.
The same hands that Tony had always kissed like they were sacred.
He reached out without thinking, needing to feel them again—but Angel pulled away.
An ugly feeling began to stir inside him.
The one he'd been suppressing for so long.
The beast.
"If it's you…" Tony whispered, half-prayer, half-threat, "…I don't mind dying by your hands."
And he meant every word.
Twisted.
Desperate.
True.
Because death, delivered by those divine hands?
That would feel like mercy.
A gift—compared to the daily, gnawing terror of losing Angel to someone else.
To something else.
He was aware of it—he was becoming an overbearing bastard.
A controlling monster.
But he couldn't help it.
He couldn't stop.
He had almost lost Angel once.
That gut-wrenching moment when Federico Luchese had taken him—Tony relived it in his dreams.
Still did.
In his nightmares now, what used to be Antonia's brutalized head changed into Angel's.
That beautiful head, blown to pieces.
And Tony just stood there.
Paralyzed.
Useless.
Like the useless bastard that he was.
Watching.
Just watching.
Unable to save the only person who mattered—because he'd gotten distracted.
He couldn't afford distractions anymore.
Especially not now.
Not when that same Beth who once aimed a gun at Angel was chasing after them.
These nightmares, twisted up with reality, were slowly driving him mad.
He'd wake up drenched in cold sweat, gasping, heart slamming—
Only to find Angel lying beside him.
Asleep.
Breathing softly.
Like a goddamn wonderful dream.
Sometimes, the relief hit him so hard it hurt.
It made him wonder if Angel really existed.
Or just a beautiful illusion.
A fevered dream born of trauma, guilt, or maybe—
Obsession.
'Doesn't matter.'
Tony had stopped caring what it was.
'He's mine!' he grunted.
And the excessive sex?
He had always been a man ruled by primal urges.
But with Angel, it was different.
He was different.
He made Tony feel alive.
Normal.
And God help him—he was addicted.
Angel was a kind of drug.
'Alright, maybe it is…'
He stilled for a second, caught in a deep thought.
'It's an obsession.'
Angel was… delicious, yes, but it wasn't just about the physical pleasure.
It was about need.
A desperate, all consuming need to ground himself back to reality.
Angel's presence was warm.
Real.
His—and nobody else's.
To mark him.
Bind him.
Own him in ways no one else ever could.
But was that really it?
Was that… love?
Or just… possession?
Could Tony truly even tell the difference when he had no experience about love before?
'Well, isn't that the same?' he thought.
Love.
Want.
Need.
Didn't they all blur together?
Was he really treating Angel like a sex object?
The question twisted inside him like a blade.
The accusation stung.
But somewhere in his depraved heart, a darker voice whispered the truth.
Maybe.
'Did I really see him as an object?'
The thought clawed at him—especially now, staring at Angel, flushed and furious in that loose robe, trembling with defiance.
Gun pointed at Tony.
Even now, his own body betrayed him.
He was even harder than before.
'Shit,' he cursed himself.
He wanted Angel to understand.
To see the depth of his fear.
Even if it meant being hated.
'He never said he loved me… not once,' a pessimistic thought lingered.
The insecure part of him, that one that hadn't had any confirmation from Angel's lips.
Not yet.
Maybe never?
That uncertainty hurts like a damned bitch.
'It hurts so much.'
Tony bowed lower, like a devoted Christian at God's feet.
He didn't care about the gun.
He started kissing Angel's feet, hands following suit.
To his knees.
To his legs.
To his thighs.
He bit them down after his tongue sensually licked and kissed.
Earning a gasp.
A moan.
Angel's legs stiffened.
A bewildered sound escaped him, like he couldn't believe about something.
And that was when Angel snapped.
With a choked sound of pure disgust, his trembling hand finally moved—ready to throw the gun away.
But Tony grabbed the muzzle with sudden, fluid motions—
And shoved it inside his own mouth.
"You—!" Angel gasped, horrified.
Tony stared deep into his eyes, lips wrapped around the cold metal.
And in a voice barely above the whisper, he said again:
"Shoot me."
**
(AN// I'm inserting Prologue here! It was now a full circle!)
….
"Fine. You're not an object," Tony finally relented.
Voice was quiet and raw.
"But Angel…"
He paused.
"You're still mine."
….
(End of Prologue—continuation next!)
**
"You're sick Tony."
The words landed like a slap, but he didn't flinch.
Couldn't.
His body was still frozen in that position—kneeling on the carpeted floor.
Jeans wrinkled.
Soul bared.
Mouth still tasting the ghost of their kiss, Angel's cum and the metal of the gun.
"Maybe I am," he said, voice hollow.
A beat passed, then—
"You idiot!" Angel snapped.
"Ahh!" he let out a scream of frustration—and in one furious movement, he threw the gun across the room.
It thudded uselessly against the carpeted floor, at the end of it before the marble.
A dull punctuation to the madness.
"Get off me, you lunatic!" Angel tried to free himself.
But Tony's grip only tightened now on his ass cheeks.
Fingers dug into the flesh.
There was no logic anymore, only instinct—the desperate kind that claws for survival.
And right now, Angel was the only thing that meant survival.
"No," Tony said simply.
His eyes locked on the beautiful disaster in front of him—shaking, furious, wild eyed and cornered.
"Don't leave me…" he murmured, hands now snaked around Angel's waist.
Tony's forehead pressed to his savior's stomach.
"Please, babe…" he continued to beg, burying his face in the divine flesh.
As if he was leaving an imprint of himself.
"What kind of twisted game are you playing?" Angel choked mid-sentence, rage cracking into pain.
"You think owning me—that's love? Making me shoot you? Treating me like a sex toy, dumping on me your immoral sexual fantasies?"
Tony's mouth twitched, but said nothing at first.
Then—
"I wasn't playing—"
Angel cut him off.
"Oh you shut up! Shut your trap!" he shoved Tony, but he didn't budge.
Couldn't.
Not when the only warmth in his life was trembling in front of him.
"Y-you're scaring me, Tony…" Angel's voice cracked.
And then—he cried.
Something in Tony broke at the sound.
Like glass under pressure.
His head leaned back and looked at Angel, his grip on Angel's waist loosening.
"Amore…"
"Don't… don't touch me! I'm scared…"
Those words—the kind that haunt a man forever.
"I'm scared of what you've become," Angel continued between sobs.
"Or have you always been like this?"
Crying, Angel whispered, "A monster?"
Tony looked away.
Jaw clenched.
Fist curling at his sides as if he could crush the darkness inside him by force.
From kneeling, he sank back and sat on the floor.
The carpet beneath him might as well have been ice.
The silence between them stretched—fragile, humming with the weight of what couldn't be taken back.
Finally—
"I… I keep seeing you die in my dreams," he whispered.
Angel's breath caught in the dark.
"I close my eyes… and you're… gone," Tony confessed, closing his eyes.
"Just like Antonia… just like my team. Like all the people I failed before you."
His voice cracked, low and raw.
"I was already a broken man when we met…"
And that was the truth.
"But when I'm with you… I forget. I forget all about my demons. You made me forget what I am. You make me feel like I can breathe again. Like maybe… there was still some hope left. For me."
He opened his eyes and laughed, bitter and short.
"I'm just… afraid… afraid that I woke up… I… you're not supposed to even matter this much. Now, I'm more afraid of you… leaving me more empty than I already was."
Angel froze, he could feel Tony's emotions.
It rolled off him like heat waves in the dark.
Tony looked up and gazed at Angel's face blanketed by darkness.
"I can't sleep. I can't think. I don't want to just own you. I want to be claimed by you too. Break me back."
His hands went to his hair.
Gripping it.
"I'm a monster. Because everything I touch, they all die."
A beat.
"And the worst part?"
Tony dragged in a breath.
"I don't even know if you love me back. Or if you could even love me back."
Angel stood still, saying nothing, violet eyes shone with tears reflecting from the lamp shades.
"I've never needed anyone before. I trained myself not to," Tony's hands dropped to his lap, useless.
"But you—"
A long silence.
Then Angel exhaled slowly.
Softly.
His shoulders dropped.
"You're right," Angel said, "You're… obsessive. Controlling. A nightmare to deal with."
Tony flinched.
"And sex with you always feels like we're always chasing something. Running a fucking marathon."
His heart sank.
"But… you're my handsome nightmare," Angel added, gently kneeling down in front of him, his posture softening.
Closer.
Close enough to see the tear tracks still drying on his cheeks.
Tony blinked.
"I know you won't change overnight," Angel continued, quieter now.
"And I won't pretend that what we have is a healthy relationship."
Angel sighed.
"But…" he paused, brushing dark hair back from Tony's face.
"... if you're willing to try to compromise… to heal… I'll stay."
Tony couldn't breathe.
"You'll what?"
Angel touched his cheeks—gently, like Tony might break under his fingertips.
"I won't go anywhere… Not without you," he whispered.
"We'll take baby steps."
Angel leaned in.
Their forehead touched.
Warm breaths mingled.
"I'll be patient… if you'll treat me as a partner. A lover. Equal."
Angel's eyes burned, "Not a possession, not an object."
Tony swallowed hard.
"I don't deserve you."
Angel smiled faintly.
"No you don't," he agreed bluntly.
"You're a bastard."
A choked laugh slipped out.
Then Angel hugged him.
Tight.
Honest.
"My handsome bastard…" he murmured, voice trailing.
"... my sinner."
Angel claimed him.
And Tony collapsed into the embrace like a dam bursting.
Arms tight around Angel's body.
Holding him like a lifeline.
And then he whispered it.
The words Tony had begged for, dreamed of.
Doubted.
"I love you Mister Santa De Leones."
Everything stopped.
His heart.
His breath.
His thoughts.
And then Angel kissed his forehead.
His nose.
Their eyes met.
Violet to silver.
Their lips touched.
Angel kissed him first.
Gentle.
Deep.
Healing.
And Tony kissed him back like he was afraid it was the last time.
But Angel responded like he knew it wouldn't be.
**
AN// author here, sorry about the long long delayed chapter. hehe. but, I'm back now. from a long heartbreak.