Elias rubbed at the bridge of his nose, glasses sliding down as though even they were exhausted by this charade. "If you’re waiting for to surrender to that nonsense..." he pointed vaguely at the socks glowing scarlet against black velvet, "you’re going to be waiting until the sun burns out."
Victor didn’t flinch. He swirled the amber liquid once more, the faint clink of ice betraying how much he was enjoying himself. "You’ll try them."
"I’ll burn them."
"You’ll wear them," Victor countered, smooth as a guillotine blade. "And you’ll like it."
Elias let out a breath sowhere between a sigh and a laugh, tugged the glasses higher on his nose, and narrowed his eyes. He was tired, yes, but not beaten. "Fine. I’ll try your damn flag... but only on one condition."
Victor’s brow arched lazily, crimson gaze sharpening. "Na it."
"I get to pick sothing for you," Elias said, voice dry enough to parch the air. "Sothing you’ll wear, without argunt, bought with your own absurd fortune. Balance, Victor. You drape in your obsession, and I drape you in mine."
For a mont, the silence rang like a drawn bowstring. The attendants froze in their neat formation, their training apparently not covering what to do when the custor declared war in the middle of a fitting.
Then Victor’s smile deepened, like the very idea of wearing sothing from Elias was enticing him. "Agreed." His voice was dark and smooth. "But be very careful what you choose. Whatever you put on , Elias, the world will rember it belongs to you."
Elias’s laugh was low, incredulous, and almost dangerous. "Good. Then I’ll make sure it suits you perfectly."
He turned back to the attendants, who were already holding out the last ensemble like they were offering relics at an altar. The suit was darker than the others, black cut with a faint sheen, and the jewelry glead like blood caught in crystal cufflinks, each set with rubies that burned against the velvet tray.
Elias picked them up first, weighing one between his fingers. "Rubies. Subtle," he said, the dryness of his tone undercut only by the sharp flash of amusent in his eyes.
The socks ca next, folded with ceremonial neatness, scarlet enough to make him mutter under his breath. "All right. Let’s die on this hill."
He dressed with a carelessness that only highlighted the precision of the tailoring. The trousers hugged too well, the shirt slid into place like it had been stitched with his na hidden in the seams, and the jacket fell over his shoulders with an authority that wasn’t his but looked like it could be. He knelt to pull the red socks on, the color so vivid it almost glared against the polished black shoes.
When he straightened again, fastening the cuffs and locking the rubies into place, Elias caught his reflection. Sharp lines, blood-bright accents, glasses glinting under the light. It was theatrical, ridiculous... and damningly effective.
Victor’s silence stretched until Elias glanced sideways. The man was leaning forward now, glass abandoned, crimson gaze fixed with unguarded hunger.
"Well?" Elias asked, lifting a brow. "Do I pass inspection, or do you want to wave a flag while I’m at it?"
Victor’s mouth curved, slow and devastating, in that kind of smile that claid ground without asking. "You look like a conquest wearing a suit." His gaze flicked deliberately to the socks. "And those? They’re mine. Don’t bother pretending otherwise."
Elias huffed out a laugh, sharp but faintly breathless. "Yes. Yes, you are possessive, I know." He said while swapping the room with new determination. "Now, can I choose what I want for you?"
The attendants stiffened, as if the suggestion itself were sacrilege. One even glanced at Victor for permission, but Elias was already moving toward the display. His hand brushed past the neat ranks of cufflinks and chains, ignoring the sparkle of diamonds and the sterile precision of platinum.
’All of this is too clean and polished. It’s not giving Victor vibes.’
He bent slightly, eyes narrowing until they caught on sothing that didn’t gleam as loudly as the rest. A ring, heavy gold with a single black stone set deep in its crown, sharp edges softened only by the wear of handling. It was striking without being ostentatious and as rough as Victor’s personality. It reminded him of the smug alpha watching him: restraint masking power, elegance edged with sothing dangerous.
He picked it up, turning it between his fingers. "This one," Elias said at last, voice steady. "Not your tailored parade of chains and flags. Just this."
Victor rose from his chair, with his usual predatory elegance, the air shifting with him. His gaze lowered to the ring, then lifted to Elias, crimson eyes gleaming like embers catching. "Interesting choice." His tone was velvet-dark, but beneath it sothing sharper thrumd. "Sothing edged. Sothing that bites back."
Elias smirked faintly, sliding the ring across the glass table toward him. "You bit , it suits you."
Victor’s fingers closed around the gold, for him being as important as a vow. He turned the ring once in his palm, studying it the way a general studies a new weapon before claiming it as his own. Then, with a motion too smooth to be casual, he slid it onto his finger.
The black stone caught the light like a shard of night, swallowing the brightness into its void. Against his skin, the gold looked like it had always belonged there.
Victor’s mouth curved, giving place to a smile with teeth that should have made Elias run, but his treacherous body didn’t move. "You’re right. It suits ." His gaze cut to Elias, razor-sharp and heavy with intent. "But more than that, Elias... it suits you."
Elias adjusted his glasses with a push of his finger, trying for indifference even as his pulse betrayed him. "Don’t start with your riddles."
Victor held his hand up, the ring gleaming, his voice smooth. "Everything I touch with this hand... carries your choice. " He flexed his fingers once, the gold catching again. "It’s your mark on ."
Elias barked out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving, though it ca out quieter than he ant. "You really don’t know how to be subtle, do you?"
Victor leaned closer, predatory and amused. "On the contrary. I’ve never been more subtle in my life."
The attendants, wisely mute, busied themselves with folding the discarded suits, though the air was taut with the knowledge they were witnessing sothing dangerously personal.
Elias exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, muttering, "Gods help . I’m actually accessorizing a tyrant."
Victor’s reply was as cutting as the rough edge of the black stone. "No, Elias. You’re branding him."
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