Chapter 2 Open This Door Right Now!
Adrian POV
“Bastard…”
My voice came out rough from sleep before another loud bang hit the door.
The apartment looked like hell. Empty whiskey bottles on the floor, papers everywhere, curtains still shut.
Another ring echoed through the place.
Whoever stood outside clearly had no patience.
“You little brat! Open this door right now!”
Mr. Martin.
Of course.
Only that old man could scream this much early in the morning.
People around here already knew me.
Troublemaker. Drug addict. Always fighting. Loud parties. One-night stands. Even the cops weren’t safe from my harassment.
In short, a walking problem.
The knocking got louder, enough to pull neighbors into the hallway just to watch.
With a tired groan, I pushed myself off the couch and opened the door hard.
“What the hell is all this noise early in the morning?” My voice still sounded heavy with sleep. “What’s your problem?”
Mr. Martin stepped back at once.
“I-I… good morning, Mr. Adrian. As you know, you haven’t paid rent for four months.”
“So what?” Cold irritation settled in my chest. “Why are you yelling and disturbing everyone? I don’t have the money right now, so get lost.”
Silence filled the hallway for a second.
“And if I see you here again, I swear I’ll draw a nice map on your face. You’re the last thing I need this morning.”
Whispers spread among the neighbors.
Ever since moving here four months ago, this scene had kept repeating.
Mr. Martin lowered his voice.
“This isn’t fair. It’s my right, and..?”
The door slammed in his face before he could finish.
Anger crawled through me on the way back inside.
“Damn it. He’s gone too far.”
Mr. Martin walked away cursing under his breath. Never to my face, though. He knew I didn’t show mercy.
Large build. Tattoos covering most of my body. Hair always tied back.
That’s what people noticed first.
Classes were off today, and staying home sounded better than dealing with anyone.
Maybe sleep would come back.
Didn’t happen.
More noise drifted in from outside.
A tired hand rubbed across my face.
“Looks like the empty apartment finally got a tenant. Damn… my head hurts.”
Men were talking nearby while a moving truck sat outside the building.
Sleep was impossible now.
“Damn it.”
The shower water ran down my body while the same annoying thought returned again.
Why don’t I enjoy sex?
That question had been stuck in my head for weeks.
“Do I… prefer men?”
My jaw tightened immediately.
“Impossible. I’m not gay. That disgusts me.”
The cold tiles pressed against my back while water kept running over my skin.
“So why doesn’t any of it feel good?”
Yesterday proved something was wrong.
A girl had been in my bed. We kissed for a while, then out of nowhere, I told her to leave.
Nothing.
No desire. No pleasure.
Just emptiness.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”
A towel dragged roughly through my hair.
“Damn it. I’m going crazy thinking about this.”
Then the laptop on the table caught my attention.
An idea came to mind.
“There’s some stupid test for this kind of thing, right?”
A short laugh escaped me.
“Looks like I’ve lost it. Why the hell am I listening to Noah?”
Noah was the friend who told me about a website that supposedly figured out preferences accurately.
Never told him my problem directly, but getting the website name out of him wasn’t difficult.
Noah always acted like he knew everything.
The page opened in dark red.
“What the hell? Why is this site red?”
Text appeared on the screen.
“Welcome. Here, you will discover what you truly like. To get accurate results, answer honestly. Type the first thing that comes to your mind. Do you agree?”
Click.
“Agree.”
“Are you above legal age?”
“Yes.”
“Are you male or female?”
“Male.”
Another message appeared.
“Welcome to our world, sir. Click below to answer the questions.”
More questions started appearing one after another.
“Do you prefer rough sex or gentle sex?”
A scoff left me.
“What kind of question is that? Rough, obviously.”
Next question.
“What if your woman is the one in control? Would you like that?”
A frown pulled at my face.
“What’s wrong with this site? My woman controlling me? Obviously not.”
Click.
“No.”
Another question appeared.
“What about the submissive role? Your woman controls the situation, but you’re the one having sex with her.”
My heartbeat turned heavier.
A slow breath filled my lungs.
“What’s wrong with me?”
Eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
“Fine.”
Click.
“Yes.”
Another image appeared.
A man tied to a bed. Eyes closed. A woman sitting on top of him.
Heat spread across my face before I even realized it.
Fingers brushed against my cheek while imagining myself in his place — tied up while she sat over him.
Without thinking, another click followed.
“Yes.”
“What if your woman ties your hands and uses you for her own pleasure? Would you like that?”
“What the hell are these questions?”
My heartbeat raced harder now.
The mirror nearby reflected red cheeks back at me.
“Why is my face red?”
My gaze drifted back to the image.
Click.
“Yes.”
“Do you like controlling your woman?”
“Of course.”
Click.
“Yes.”
Another question appeared.
“Sir, do you like being penetrated with a plastic object?”
Disgust hit instantly.
Click.
“No.”
“What the hell is this? Do men actually like that?”
A quiet scoff escaped me.
“They shouldn’t even be called men.”
The next question appeared.
“Do you like your woman to be half dominant and half masochistic?”
For a second, no answer came to mind.
Click.
“No.”
“Do you prefer painful dominance or normal dominance?”
The chair creaked as I leaned back.
Not a sadist.
Control was fine. Crazy pain wasn’t.
“Normal. I’m not a damn psychopath.”
Click.
Another question appeared.
“What if you are both submissive and dominant at the same time? Would you like that?”
My heartbeat almost felt violent now.
Still, my finger pressed the answer anyway.
“Yes.”
“The test is complete, sir. Please wait for your result.”
One leg kept shaking while waiting.
Then the result appeared.
“Based on your answers, sir, you are half masochistic. Click here to explore options that may help you.”
Everything inside me went still.
“What?”
My eyes stayed locked on the screen.
“Half masochistic? Me?”
That meant enjoying being controlled by a partner… and liking pain during sex.
Just imagining it made my heartbeat spike again.
The laptop slammed shut.
“Calm down, Adrian. It’s just a stupid test. It proves nothing.”
A hand pushed through damp hair.
“How the hell am I half masochistic? No. No, this isn’t good.”
But curiosity dragged me back again.
A few searches later, images of women dominating men filled the screen.
Chains. Commands. Submission.
My stare stayed fixed on them before clicking a video.
A warning appeared.
“This video is explicit. Are you above legal age?”
A second of hesitation.
“Yes.”
The title read:
“The Boy and His Mistress.”
The guy looked young. The woman looked slightly older.
Tied to the bed while she sat on top of him, touching his body and making him beg for release.
My heartbeat slammed hard against my chest.
“Damn…”
She teased him slowly before grabbing a leather whip and striking his chest lightly.
“That looks painful.”
But the guy moaned in pleasure, begging for more.
It looked like torture.
Beautiful torture.
Silence filled the apartment while I watched.
Then the woman spoke in a low voice.
“You can’t come.”
Heat rushed through me when the guy answered with a smile.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Complete control.
And the guy looked completely lost in pleasure.
Then hardness pressed beneath my pants.
My eyes widened.
That almost never happened this fast.
“Damn it!”
The laptop slammed shut again.
Part of me kept trying to deny it.
Anyone would react watching something like that.
Right?
Coffee came first after that. Then a cigarette.
Thoughts kept crashing through my head nonstop.
Never been able to eat in the morning.
That’s just how I am.
The street outside stayed busy while I stood near the window shirtless, gray cotton pants hanging low on my hips, cigarette between my fingers.
Movers carried furniture into the apartment across from mine.
Then a girl stepped out of a yellow taxi.
Black dress.
Soft figure.
My eyes stayed on her longer than they should have.
“She’s beautiful.”
Something tightened in my chest while watching her from afar.
Beautiful women had never been the problem. Feminine bodies, soft curves — I liked all of it.
Still, something about her pulled my attention instantly.
Another guy stepped out beside her.
My mood darkened immediately.
“Just what I needed.”
