Monster Can Love Too

You're in my seat."

Noa didn't look up.

He'd only just gotten his damn coffee, and this was his spot. Every morning, a second table by the window, chipped wood, sunlight through the cracks in the blinds like prison bars. Familiar. Safe. His ritual in a city that never stopped trying to eat him alive.

"Then find another one."

His voice was flat, bored. He hoped it carried enough don't fuck with me to make the guy move on. He was too tired for drama, hadn't even sipped the bitter burn of his overpriced coffee yet.

He heard the shift of a coat. Leather. Heavy. Expensive, by the way it creaked none of that cheap synthetic crap that peeled after two winters. And then the scent hit him.

Cologne. Sharp. Rich. Clean, but aggressive. The kind of smell that screamed I kill people and moisturize after.

Something about it scraped against his nerves like metal on glass.

"Stand. Up."

Now he looked.

And instantly regretted it.

The man was tall. Not just tall but big. Broad shoulders that filled the space, a jaw carved from goddamn marble, and the sort of presence that made every instinct in Noa's body scream danger. He wore black. Black coat, black shirt, silver cufflinks that probably cost more than Noa made in a month of double shifts at the bookstore.

But it wasn't the clothes. It was the eyes.

Steel gray. Cold enough to freeze fire. They locked onto Noa like a weapon, calculated and steady. A smile curved on the man's mouth slowly , deliberately. Like a lion watching a gazelle twist its ankle.

"Alessio Moretti," the man said. "And I don't ask twice."

Noa swallowed, his pulse kicking up like a racehorse at the gates.

Shit.

He knew that name. Everyone did.

Moretti. The family that ran half the city's underworld like a monopoly game with extra blood. Drugs, weapons, trafficking hell, rumors said even some of the judges owed him favors. Alessio wasn't just a Moretti. He was the Moretti.

And apparently, he wanted Noa's table.

Noa set his cup down. Slowly. His fingers were steady, but he felt the faint tremor underneath. His gut told him to stand up, walk away, don't poke the fucking bear.

But his pride had other plans.

"Well, Alessio," he said, voice sharp, "you just wasted your second ask."

Silence.

The café froze. Like someone hit pause on the whole scene. Noa heard a fork clatter to the floor somewhere behind him. No one moved. Not even the barista dared breathe.

Alessio's smile widened.

" "You're either the bravest guy in the room," he said, voice smooth but sharp like a knife pretending to be charming, "or just plain stupid."

Noa didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.

He just stared, like he'd already made peace with whatever came next."I get that a lot."

And for some reason, that amused the monster. His eyes glinted, mouth twitching like he'd just tasted something expensive and surprising.

He leaned in, just a fraction. Close enough for Noa to smell the cologne again now laced with something darker. Blood, maybe. Or maybe it was just the threat of it.

"I like you."

Noa blinked. "Good for you."

"No." Alessio tilted his head, smile curling slow and dangerous. "Bad for you."

Then he straightened, all quiet confidence and deadly grace. He turned, coat flaring like some villain in a movie, and walked out.

The café exhaled. Noa heard it. The unspoken relief, the collective heartbeat resuming.

"Holy shit," someone whispered behind him.

"Was that really him?"

Noa picked up his coffee with fingers that now trembled slightly.

"Guess so," he muttered, and took a long drink even though it's gone cold.

He thought that was the end of it.

It wasn't.

That night, Noa's shift at the bookstore ran late. Some college kid dropped a pile of philosophy books five minutes before close, and by the time he locked the door and set the alarm, it was already past eleven.

The rain hadn't stopped all night just kept coming down like the sky was pissed off. Streetlights bounced off the soaked pavement, turning everything into a blurry mess, like the whole city had been half-erase Puddles caught bits of neon and headlights, all warped and weird. He shoved his hands deeper into his jacket, hoodie yanked down like that would actually help.

Didn't matter. The cold still got in. Sharp. Rude. Like it had something to prove.

Each step splashed softly. Everything around him felt weirdly quiet like the city had turned the volume down. Just the low hiss of tires on wet pavement, a cab honking way off somewhere, and the soft hum of TVs or conversations behind windows he couldn't see into.

No music. No voices. Just his own breathing and the cold cutting through his jacket like it knew exactly where to hit.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He stopped walking.

Just for a second.

Adrian.

You okay? Heard about Moretti today. Careful.

Noa didn't reply. He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to picture those eyes again. Or that voice. Or the smell of leather and cologne and trouble.

He turned a corner. Kicked a loose soda can out of his path. Tried to focus on the rhythm of his steps, the cold on his face, the feel of his keys in his pocket.

By the time he reached his building, his nose was numb. Fingers stiff. He climbed the stairs two at a time, craving warmth, bed, silence. His bones ached.

Key slid into the lock.

Turned.

The door creaked open.

And Noa froze.

Alessio Moretti was sitting on his damn couch.

Black shirt open at the collar. No tie. Legs spread in that infuriatingly confident way men do when they've never been told no. One arm draped over the back of the couch like he owned it. A crystal glass in his other hand, filled with something dark and probably aged longer than Noa had been alive.

"Took you long enough."

Noa's heart shot straight up into his throat, pounding so hard it actually hurt.

He stumbled back a step, eyes wide. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Alessio sipped his drink, unbothered. "Didn't like how we ended things earlier," he said, smooth as polished glass. "Thought we should... start over."

Noa stared at him like he was hallucinating. "Get out."

"No."

That one word was soft, calm, final. It carried weight. Like a promise. Or a death sentence.

"You interest me. That doesn't happen often."

"I don't care."

Alessio rose from the couch like a shadow gaining substance. Not fast. Just... inevitable. Graceful and terrifying. He moved like he'd had combat training, or ballet lessons. Or both.

"You should," he murmured.

Noa backed up. His heel bumped into the doorframe, stopping him cold.

"You break into people's homes often?" he snapped.

"Only when I want them."

The words landed like heat. Not just on his skin under it. Low. Intimate. Unfair.

"I'm not interested," Noa said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Liar."

Alessio stopped right in front of him. Inches away. His gaze locked on Noa's mouth like he was deciding whether to kiss it or bite it. Maybe both.

He reached out, fingers ghosting along the edge of Noa's jaw. Light touch. Barely there. But Noa felt it everywhere.

"I can smell it on you," Alessio said. "The heat. The fight."

Noa's breath caught. Damn him.

"Fuck off."

Alessio chuckled. Low and amused. "Careful, Noa. Every time you fight me, I want you more."

"I'm not one of your toys."

"No," Alessio said. His voice dropped to a murmur. "You're better."

It was a compliment. It was a warning. It was a fucking seduction, and Noa hated how his knees wobbled.

Alessio leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Noa's ear.

"I will have you. One way or another."

Noa's skin prickled. His throat was dry. He hated this. Hated him.

But hated even more how his body didn't get the memo.

"Go to hell," he whispered.

Alessio's lips curved. "Already there."

He stepped back. Just enough. There was something in his eyes sharp, almost hungry. Like he already owned the moment, and maybe even her.

"I'll be seeing you soon," he said, voice low and way too calm.

And just like that, he turned and left.

The door clicked shut behind him. Not loud. But final.

Too final.

Noa sagged against the wall like someone had cut his strings. His hands shook. His breath came shallow and fast.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was in so much trouble.

"You're shaking."

Noa stared at the empty doorway like it might bite him.

His hands weren't shaking. His whole damn body was.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

The bastard had gotten inside.

No lock picked. No sound. No warning.

Just there. On his couch. Like he belonged.

Noa's gut twisted.

And not all of it was fear.

"I will have you," Alessio had said. The words still crawled under Noa's skin like a second pulse. Slow. Certain.

Noa scrubbed a hand hard over his face, like he could wipe the memory away.

"Like hell you will."

But the words rang hollow in the quiet apartment.

The next morning was worse.

He barely slept. Tossed and turned until dawn, the sheets tangled, skin too hot, too cold.

And when he did sleep, silver eyes haunted him. Cold fingers traced paths down his skin in the dark of his dreams.

He woke up with a strangled sound in his throat hard, sweating, furious with himself.

"Fuck."

Noa dragged himself out of bed. Yanked on jeans, a hoodie. Something casual, forgettable. Like maybe he could hide in plain sight today.

Coffee first. Maybe if he poured enough caffeine down his throat, the images would stop chasing him.

He barely made it to the corner shop. Shadows under his eyes. Jaw tight.

Ordered black. No sugar.

"Rough night?" the barista asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You could say that."

He didn't elaborate. Couldn't. There weren't words for that kind of night.

He took the coffee. Took a deep breath.

Then burned his tongue on purpose.

Pain was easier than the heat still curled low in his gut. Easier to handle.

When he left, the street was quiet.

Too quiet.

Noa's skin prickled. Instinct screaming.

Someone was watching him.

He stopped.

Looked sharply over his shoulder.

Just in time to catch a glint of black glass.

A car. Parked across the street. Windows tinted darker than legal. Engine idling, a faint growl under the soft hum of the morning.

Noa froze mid-step.

The passenger window rolled down. Smooth. Silent.

And there he was.

Alessio.

Same gray eyes. Same slow, dangerous smile like a tiger who had found its prey wandering just a little too close.

"Get in."

Noa's heart jumped to his throat. His fight-or-flight instincts kicked hard. His feet wanted to bolt.

But he forced himself to stay rooted.

Running wouldn't help. He knew that. Not with someone like Alessio.

"Not happening."

"I said get in."

The voice was velvet over steel. Not raised. No threat needed. It was the kind of command you obeyed without thinking.

Noa swallowed.

If he ran would they chase him? How fast would they catch him?

If he got in how much worse could it get?

His gut twisted. Every instinct told him don't do this.

But another voice whispered five minutes. You can survive five minutes. Better than the alternative.

He took a breath.

"Five minutes," he said, jaw tight. "No more."

Alessio inclined his head slightly. "Of course."

Liar.

The leather seat was cold against his back. The door thunked shut with a quiet finality that made the hairs on Noa's neck stand up.

The car smelled like cigarette smoke and that same expensive cologne that had been on Alessio's skin last night. Rich. Sharp. A little bitter.

Noa swallowed against the knot in his throat.

Alessio didn't speak at first. Just watched him.

Noa could feel the weight of that gaze dragging over him like silk and knives.

He tried not to squirm.

Failed.

"You shouldn't provoke me," Alessio said finally, voice low.

"You shouldn't break into my home," Noa shot back before he could stop himself.

A faint smile tugged at Alessio's mouth fond amusement, like Noa was an entertaining pet biting the hand that fed it.

"I wanted to see how far you'd go."

"You got your answer. Now leave me the fuck alone."

Alessio leaned closer, body language shifting, predatory.

"No."

Noa's pulse jumped, stupid and fast.

"Why?" The word came out a little breathless.

"Because," Alessio murmured, "you're the first person who's looked me in the eye and told me no."

His fingers moved light, deliberate. They ghosted over Noa's wrist, tracing the fast thrum of his pulse.

"It's intoxicating."

Noa yanked his hand away like it burned.

"You're insane."

"Maybe." Alessio smiled, eyes gleaming. "But you're still here."

And damn it he was.

Still here. Still trapped in this seat, heart racing, body thrumming with adrenaline and something far, far more dangerous.

The car stopped.

Noa blinked.

"What the hell?"

"Come with me."

The words were soft. Too soft.

"Not a chance."

Alessio opened his door. The cold morning air rushed in.

He came around the car with a predator's grace.

Before Noa could bolt, strong fingers gripped his chin. Tilted it up slow, firm, intimate.

"Last chance, Noa. Walk with me. Or I'll make you."

The heat in his eyes made Noa's stomach flip wildly.

God, he hated him. Hated how his body was reacting.

"Fine," he spat. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

But under the words was something softer. A hunger that pressed against Noa's defenses like water through cracks.

Alessio released him.

Noa shoved the door open hard, got out fast. Slammed it behind him.

"Five minutes," he warned again.

"Of course."

Liar.

The building they entered was old. Stone walls. Heavy doors that looked like they hadn't been moved in years.

The air inside smelled of whiskey, leather, smoke. Dim lights flickered along the walls.

A club. But not the kind you danced in.

Noa's shoulders stiffened. His skin crawled.

Eyes followed him through the gloom.

Figures lounged in shadows, men and women both. All dangerous. All aware.

"What is this place?" he hissed.

"Neutral ground."

Alessio's hand brushed the small of his back light, possessive.

Noa bristled but didn't move. Couldn't not here.

"You're showing me off?" he hissed through his teeth.

"I'm warning them."

"Of what?"

Alessio's gaze burned through him.

"That you're mine."

Noa's breath caught.

Heat flared sharp and hot low in his belly.

"I'm not."

"Not yet."

Bastard.

A woman approached. Mid-50s. All curves and danger, wrapped in crimson silk.

"Rosetta," Alessio greeted, inclining his head.

"Alessio."

Her gaze flicked to Noa, sharp as a blade. "So this is the boy."

Noa squared his shoulders. "Not a boy. And not his."

Rosetta smiled. Sad, knowing.

"Careful, little one. Monsters don't love. They consume."

"I'm not here for love," Noa snapped, pulse hammering.

"No." Alessio's voice dropped lower. "You're here because you can't stop thinking about me."

Heat rushed up Noa's neck like wildfire.

"Fuck you."

Alessio leaned in. Breath warm against his ear.

"Say that again," he whispered, voice like smoke. "And I might just let you."

Noa's breath hitched. His body betrayed him again aching, burning.

"I hate you," he said. But it sounded thin. Weak.

Alessio's fingers brushed his jaw. Gentle. Almost tender. The contrast was maddening.

"Then hate me. But you'll still come back."

Noa swallowed hard.

"Don't be so sure."

Alessio smiled. Slow. Certain.

"I am."

Rosetta watched them. Eyes sharp as knives.

"Alessio. You play a dangerous game."

"I always do."

"This one could burn you."

"Let him try."

Alessio turned back to Noa, gaze searing.

"We'll be seeing each other again."

"Like hell," Noa said.

But his heart was racing. His fists clenched at his sides.

And part of him deep down wasn't sure if he meant it.

Alessio's smile deepened. "Soon."

The car brought Noa home.

He locked the door.

Bolted it.

Double-checked it twice.

Then paced the apartment like a caged animal.

"Stay away," he whispered to the empty room. "Just stay away."

But when he stripped off the hoodie, crawled into bed

His skin still burned where Alessio had touched him.

His body still ached with unwanted heat that refused to die.

And in the dark just as his eyes began to close a soft knock echoed at the door.

"Noa."

Alessio's voice. Low. Velvet.

"Open up. I want you."

Noa."

The knock came again.

Soft. Measured. Dangerous.

Noa pressed his back to the door.

"Go away," he whispered.

His heart was thundering.

His body traitorous. Still burning from the brush of Alessio's fingers earlier.

"I want you to open the door," Alessio said, voice a low hum through the wood. "Now."

"Fuck off."

"You can't shut me out forever."

Noa shut his eyes tight.

"Watch me."

A pause.

For a moment, he thought the man had gone.

Then a card slid under the door. Black, embossed.

You'll come to me.

"Soon."

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Fading.

Noa slumped to the floor, breath ragged.

Goddammit.

"I hate him," he muttered.

Lie.

Half a lie.

The next day was hell.

He couldn't focus.

Couldn't work.

Every time the doorbell rang at the bookstore, his pulse spiked.

Every time someone in a black coat walked by the window, his throat went dry.

"You okay?" Adrian asked. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"I mean it. You need to talk"

"Drop it."

Noa didn't want to explain.

Didn't want to say: The city's most dangerous man is stalking me and I can't stop thinking about his fucking hands.

Instead, he powered through the shift. Ignored the looks.

When it ended, he didn't go straight home.

He walked.

Miles.

Till the sky turned violet and the streetlamps flickered on.

But even in the open air, Alessio was there.

In his head. In his skin.

"Fuck you," he whispered to the wind.

But the words had no weight.

When he finally dragged himself home, the apartment was dark.

He kicked off his boots. Threw the keys down.

"Get a grip," he told himself.

The mirror caught his eye.

He looked... wrecked.

Eyes shadowed. Lips swollen from biting.

"Jesus."

His phone buzzed. Unknown number.

He hesitated. Answered.

"Hello?"

"You walked a long way tonight."

Noa's blood iced.

"Alessio."

"I like watching you."

"You're sick."

"You say that like you didn't want me at your door."

"I didn't."

Silence.

Then"Liar."

Noa hung up. Threw the phone across the couch.

"Fucking bastard."

But his skin was tight. His breath shallow.

Because Alessio was right.

He hadn't locked the door again that night.

An hour later

Another knock.

"Noa."

"Go away!"

"I'm done playing."

The door creaked.

Noa stared as the lock clicked open from the outside.

How ?

Alessio stepped in. Black shirt. No coat. Bare throat gleaming in the low light.

"What how the hell did you"

"Keys are easy to copy. Don't leave them where anyone can take them."

"Get. Out."

"No."

Alessio's gaze raked over him.

"You're shaking again."

Noa backed up.

"I'm calling the police."

"Do it. They'll never get here fast enough."

Goddammit.

Alessio moved closer.

"Why are you really here?" Noa demanded.

"I told you."

"Bullshit."

Alessio smiled.

"I can't stop thinking about you."

His fingers brushed Noa's wrist again. Bare skin to bare skin.

Noa gasped. The touch was electric. Burning.

"Get off"

"You're starving for this."

Noa shoved him.

Alessio caught his wrist. Pulled him flush.

"Let go."

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want this."

Noa tried.

Couldn't.

Alessio's breath fanned hot over his cheek.

"I feel everything when I'm near you," he whispered. "Things I don't feel for anyone else."

"You can't feel anything," Noa said. "You're a monster."

"Maybe."

His mouth brushed Noa's jaw.

Noa shuddered.

"But I can feel this."

His teeth scraped skin. Light. Testing.

Noa's knees nearly buckled.

"Fuck."

"Say stop," Alessio murmured.

Noa opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

"Say it," Alessio whispered, voice shaking now.

Noa's fingers curled in his shirt.

"I... hate you."

"That's not stop."

Alessio pressed closer. His hand slid under Noa's hoodie. Bare skin. Hot palm on his waist.

Noa's breath broke.

"I want to ruin you," Alessio whispered.

"Then do it," Noa snapped before he could think.

Alessio's mouth crashed down on his.

It wasn't a kiss.

It was war.

Teeth. Tongue. Heat.

Noa gasped into it, arching. His body betrayed him completely.

"Fuck, you taste better than I imagined," Alessio groaned.

Noa moaned. Bit his lip.

Alessio caught his face in both hands.

"Mine," he breathed. "You're fucking mine."

The words lit Noa up from the inside.

"I hate you," he whispered again.

"Keep saying it."

Alessio's thigh pressed between his legs. Noa's head tipped back with a cry.

"God, you're beautiful when you fight me," Alessio rasped.

Clothes shifted. Alessio's mouth found his neck.

"You're burning for me."

"No."

"Liar."

Fingers skimmed lower. Skin on skin.

Noa grabbed his wrist.

"Stop."

Finally. A real word.

Alessio froze.

Chest heaving.

"Look at me," he said hoarsely.

Noa forced himself to meet those silver eyes.

"Say it again if you mean it. Stop."

Noa's lips trembled.

"Stop," he whispered.

A muscle ticked in Alessio's jaw.

"Fuck," he bit out.

He stepped back. Hands shaking.

Noa sagged against the wall.

Alessio raked a hand through his hair.

"I told you" his voice broke. He swallowed. "I don't know how to stop wanting you."

"You have to."

"I can't."

Alessio stared at him like he wanted to devour him.

"But I won't force you."

He turned.

"Not tonight."

Noa's legs barely held him up.

"If you come back"

"I will."

Alessio smiled. Crooked. Too human. Too raw.

"You won't survive me, Noa."

"We'll see."

Alessio reached the door.

Paused.

"Next time don't wear that hoodie. I want to see all of you."

He left.

The door clicked shut.

Noa slid to the floor.

"What the fuck is happening to me," he whispered .

His phone buzzed

A new message. Unknown number.

You'll beg for me soon.

- A

Noa stared at it.

Chest tight.

Lips swollen.

Still aching where Alessio had touched him.

"God help me," he breathed.