[BL] The Omega Boss Mafia is Secretly a Pervert?! Chapter 5: Code Black [-R18]

His wet tongue slid over Lucien’s inner thigh, leaving a hot, sticky trail as crimson strands of hair brushed against his pale skin, making him shudder.

"What is it, my little star? Already trembling just from this?" Mikhail’s laugh was low, rough, and mocking.

"You talk too much, Reznik! Just—just do whatever the hell you ca to do!" Lucien snapped, though his voice cracked with need.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his body was burning. His slick was already pooling, dripping shalessly, and he knew the air was heavy with his pheromones. Humiliation crawled over him, but so did desire.

"Hoho~ what a temper. Adorable."

Mikhail’s breath fanned over his bare ass as his face lowered. Then that thick, obscene tongue licked across his slick hole, tasting him like syrup.

"Hnnghh—!" Lucien gasped, clutching at his crimson hair, sha and heat flooding him.

"Mmm." Mikhail groaned low.

"Sweet as a fig. Just like your scent, sweet, addictive... irresistible." His golden eyes locked on Lucien as his tongue pressed deeper, savoring every drop.

Lucien’s only answer was to frown, throwing an arm over his face to hide how flushed and desperate he was. But Mikhail yanked his hand away, forcing him to look.

"Eyes on . If you want to be fucked, you look in the eye."

Lucien nodded, hesitantly, betraying himself. He couldn’t fight it anymore—he was too horny, slick dripping freely, pride slipping away. He would beg his enemy, if that’s what it took.

’Shit... is this my heat? Now of all ti?’

But before his thoughts spiraled, sothing thick pressed at his entrance. He glanced down and his eyes went wide.

It wasn’t just a cock. It was a monster.

Veined, heavy, massive: Mikhail’s dick stood proudly, long enough and thick enough to make his throat dry.

"Thirty centiters?! Oh fuck, if that thing goes in , I’ll never—never be the sa again."

Every instinct scread to run, yet his body throbbed with the opposite: want it. Crave it. Beg for it.

Mikhail smirked, voice dripping with arrogance. "Are you ready to be my bitch?"

And just like that Lucien jolted awake.

His body shot upright, sweat rolling down his temple, chest heaving.

"The fuck was that?!" he hissed to himself, still hard, still trembling.

Not only did Lucien wake up drenched in sweat, but he could feel sothing sticky seeping from his ass. His face paled instantly.

No... impossible.

He rarely hits his heats anymore. His personal suppressants—formulas made only for him—were potent enough to strip his scent completely, masking him as a beta.

The first ti he inherited the position of Don, that suppressor was what saved him. Back then, protests erupted, coups ford, whispers of a weakling beta leading us?

But Lucien silenced them all with blood. Corpses piled beneath his feet, and his hands dripped red until no one dared to doubt him.

He shattered rival gangs, opened lucrative trade routes, forged connections with governnt officials his parents had never managed to touch.

With achievents like that, the rumor of him being "just a beta" was swept under the rug.

But this... this was no rumor.

This heat was real and worse than anything he had endured before.

"Fuck!" Lucien snarled, raking a trembling hand through his hair.

’Calm down, this is still the beginning. My body doesn’t feel... weird yet. Just a wet dream, that’s all.’

He forced a breath, swung his legs to the edge of the bed, and grabbed the remote control from his nightstand. A single press of the red button was all it took.

His phone vibrated imdiately.

[Black Protocol Activated!]

[All entrances sealed. No one enters or leaves the Don’s residence without approval.]

[ssage sent to all Capos.]

[Priority alert dispatched to Head of Research Departnt and the Grandfather. Awaiting response.]

Relief washed over him as he collapsed back onto the mattress. He clenched his fists, face twisting in rage and humiliation.

"FUCK YOU, REZNIK!" he bellowed, knowing the lockdown’s soundproofing ensured no one would ever hear him.

***

anwhile, chaos brewed in the Lucero eting place.

All the Capos had gathered for an ergency session. A Code Black from the Don ant only one thing: the Don was incapacitated.

Tradition dictated that in such tis, leadership temporarily passed to the previous Don. But Lucien’s parents were dead. His grandfather was alive, yes, but too old, his influence waning.

By custom, power would shift to the second-in-command. In this case: Vincent.

But the ssage Lucien sent was unambiguous. Command was to pass not to Vincent, but to Dante, his cousin from the younger brother’s branch of the family.

The aning was clear as a gun to the head: Vincent had just been dealt a motion of no confidence.

Tension spiked, not because of the succession itself, but because of suspicion. Many in the room believed the true cause of the Black Code was tied to the new Hound.

"Hound!" Velour’s voice cracked like a whip, eyes narrowing.

"Tell us the truth about the rooftop. Most of your n are dead, and now our Don has vanished. This reeks of conspiracy and could spiral into a gang war!"

All eyes turned to the Hound.

He rembered. He rembered everything. The rooftop, the chaos, the devil’s laughter, and the way his Don gets into heated ’intimacy’.

The way his Don had pressed a pistol to his forehead and said,

’Don’t tell anyone or your family’s head will blow up. Stay low, stay loyal, and take the fall.’

So the Hound’s lips stayed sealed. For his Don, he would carry this weight.

His voice was flat, unwavering. "It was an attack from another group."

"Which group?!" soone shouted. "Is that all you can say?!"

The chamber erupted into curses and accusations. So demanded Hound’s head for incompetence. Others spat that Lucien was weak, that a beta could never hold power without sha.

Through the storm of voices, one man stayed silent. Vincent.

His sharp gaze cut through the chaos as a single thought burned in his mind.

’That damned rat... Diablo. ’