Page 80 of Knox's Boy

I held him through every second of it, smoothing my palm over his hair while he rode out the aftershocks. He trembled, skin sticky and flushed, face buried in my neck. I felt his shuddering breaths.

“There you go, gorgeous boy,” I whispered, rocking him gently. “I’ve got you. You don’t have to do anything except let yourself breathe.” My hand stilled, and I reached for a soft cloth from the side table, cleaning him off. He then nestled even closer.

I could sense his mind settling into the kind of exhaustion that only followed absolute surrender. I stroked his back, letting my own pulse return to normal.

Eventually he stirred, blinking blearily up at me, and I thumbed a tear from his cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Florian nodded, voice hoarse. “Yeah. I… I feel weirdly good. Like, empty and full at the same time.”

“Exactly how you should feel,” I said, smiling. “Proud of you, baby.”

As he collapsed against me, spent and pliant, I felt the familiar surge of protectiveness and possession. This beautiful, complicated boy who carried too much on his slim shoulders, he was mine to guide, mine to correct, mine to cherish.

Chapter 34. Florian

I sat in the corner booth. Across the wooden table, Luna looked like she was waiting for a court verdict. Her hair was recently dyed an even more vibrant blue. It was the only part of her that looked like the usual Luna. The rest of her was buttoned in a shirt to the throat and dark, stiff denim. No band tees, no oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. It was her ‘serious conversation’ armor, and seeing it made my stomach do a slow, uneasy roll.

"Italy," she said. It wasn't a question. Luna didn't smile. She didn't squeal or demand to see photos. Instead, her fingers, nails painted a chipped black, tapped against the side of her mug.Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.It sounded like a countdown.

“So, how long were you gone again?" she asked, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. She pushed them up the bridge of her nose.

"A week," I said.

“And school?”

"H-he took care of everything with my professors,” I hesitated. I knew how that would sound to her. “Even Professor Harmon gave me an extension on that sociology paper."

"He took care of it," she repeated, her tone flat. "Did you actually ask for the extension, or did his assistant make a call and buy the library a new espresso machine?"

"It wasn’t like that," I said, feeling that old prickle of defensiveness at the back of my neck. "He just… handles things. He knows how much I care about my grades."

Luna leaned forward.

"Florian, listen to yourself. He talks to your teachers. He pays your bills. He moves you into a fortress. You are completely dependent on him for food, shelter, and sometimes even a plane ticket home."

I bristled, pulling back against the orange vinyl. "I'm not a prisoner, Luna. I wanted to go. I've never been anywhere. The furthest I'd ever traveled was to the state line to buy fireworks with you that one Fourth of July."

"That's exactly the point," she hissed, lowering her voice as a girl with a heavy backpack squeezed past our table. "He knows that. He knows you're starving for experiences, for safety, for everything he can buy. That's how it works. That's how they get you."

"Who is 'they'?" I asked, frustration rising in my throat. "The Illuminati? Rich people? Daddies?"

"Abusers," she said, the word landing heavy between us.

I recoiled as if she'd slapped me. "He is not an abuser. You don't know him."

"I know the stats, Flo," she said, her expression softening. "I know that when one person holds all the cards, financial, experiential, physical… consent gets blurry. I know you say you're into the BDSM thing, the Daddy/boy dynamic, and I respect that kink is a thing. I've read the theory. Safe, sane, consensual. I get it."

She took a breath, her blue hair falling forward as she leaned in closer. "But kink requires a foundation of equality outside the dynamic to be truly safe. If you say 'red' and stop the scene, you still need to eat. You still need a place to sleep. If you leave him, you're homeless again. That means you can't really say no, can you? Not when 'no' means losing your entire life."

Her logic was cold, sharp, and terrified me because these were the darkest whispers of my own insecurity, the ones I drowned out with Knox's praise and love. But hearing it from Luna, it was different and hard.

"I have agency," I insisted. "I choose to submit. That's the power of it. I give him control because I trust him."

"He gives you things that tie you to him," Luna countered relentlessly. "Does he give you cash? Do you have a savings account in your name only? If you walked out of that mansion today, how far would you get?"

I looked down at my coffee. "I have an allowance," I muttered.

"An allowance," she echoed, her eyebrows shooting up. "Like a child."