by Bethany-Kris
Ginevra pulled back from the kiss first, her ragged exhale whispering across his lips when she breathed, “You should do that more often.”
“I will.”
“And you know …”
“What?”
“Those feelings, Les,” she whispered, “It’s not just about me, but Corrado, too. If being here has taught me anything … well, loving someone is not a vulnerability—it’s courageous.”
“What makes you say so?”
“What else would you call handing over a part of yourself to someone else when it means also accepting that being alone is a possibility? And yet, you’re still willing to take the risk. Loving may make you vulnerable to being hurt, but it’s courageous to love all the same.”
“And you think that’s what I should do here?”
Ginevra smiled, her fingertips drifting over his jaw with a soft touch. “Not with me … no one but you knows what you want with me. I meant with him—it hurts you more when you’re not doing what you want to do with Corrado, when you’re not with him.”
“How can you possibly—”
“All someone has to do is watch. I have had a lot of time to do that, haven’t I?”
Why should he argue?
Right was right.
“You realize me being with Corrado means we would be—”
“Loving again?”
Alessio wet his lower lip. “You think that man and I have love in the mess we made together?”
“You two might not love the way everyone else does, but it’s yours. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”
“I still haven’t decided if that makes it right, though.”
Or healthy.
“I think it’s where you’re meant to be,” she said, shrugging one shoulder, “together, Les. When you’re apart, even when you’re standing in the same room, everyone else senses the distance, too.”
“Or only you do.”
“Doesn’t change that it’s true.” Ginevra sighed, dropping his gaze. “I haven’t figured out yet where I fit in here.”
“I know exactly where you fit in.”
Her head snapped up, and those wide eyes of hers, always so expressive and deep, found his with a million and one questions reflecting back. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
With them.
She belonged with them.
Except this was all on her, and she had to make those choices on her own. It wasn’t something they could do for her. He only controlled what he wanted to do with Corrado, and Ginevra was right. Closer had always been better for Alessio with Corrado. Being together, despite the things separating them, would forever be right when everything else seemed wrong.
Alessio leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Ginevra’s lips again. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being you, Ginny.”
Alessio knew exactly how he’d found himself like this—his back straight against Corrado’s leather-wrapped headboard, a hand tight around his throat to keep him pinned in place. Corrado’s mouth worked against his, kissing him hard and deep as his cock fucked him the same way.
Strange, that.
And fucking wonderful, too.
Corrado’s kiss was the same as his beat with every thrust and pull against Alessio’s body. Brutal, and so fucking good. Each snap of his hips had the firm lines of their forms driving against one another. Alessio’s cock, painfully stiff, felt the brunt of their weight, grinding against his length in the best way possible.
It was too much.
It wasn’t fucking enough.
How long had it been since the two of them were like this? Since Alessio just woke up in the night, needing Corrado? Far too long, he realized. He’d understood that better than ever tonight when he woke up, alone again, in a bed that didn’t belong to him. Like one side was far too empty, and he needed to fix it.
Nothing was ever right like that.
He could still remember the cold floors chilling the pads of his feet as he drifted through the penthouse, needing to find that thing he’d been missing. Corrado, Corrado, Corrado. It had become a mantra in his mind, until he slipped into Corrado’s room, then his bed, and finally … this.
“Too long,” Corrado mumbled against his mouth.
His thrusts were coming faster, now.
Harder, too.
Like the hand at Alessio’s throat, those fingers tightening and loosening almost rhythmically. His voice was fucking hoarse, so deep, full of air and lust and love. He’d realized that, too, now. He didn’t need to be told those words to know they were true.
They were words.
Not actions.
Or behavior.
Or their life.
It was just words.
Alessio had put far too much weight into words, and less trust in the man he had known from the time he was seventeen years old. So, no, he didn’t give a fuck about words.
Not tomorrow.
Not yesterday.
And not right now, either.
“Look at me.”
Alessio’s gaze snapped up, pleasure racing through his bloodstream with every pounding beat of his heart, to find Corrado’s eyes locked on his. His lips hovered above Alessio’s, ragged exhales coming out fast between them, their kiss broken.
“Fucking missed you,” Alessio said, words husky.
“God, yeah.”
He was going to come.
Soon.
The sensation teased in the tightness of his balls, and in the heat shooting up his spine. Every slam of his lover’s body into his, stretching him open in the best way as fingers dug achingly into his thighs, and he tangled his into Corrado’s hair.
He couldn’t stop it.
“Jesus Christ, Corrado.”
Alessio stiffened, a loud groan escaping from his lips before Corrado slammed his mouth against his to swallow it up. Their tongues clashed, warring like their hands pushing and grabbing far too tightly as his come spilled between them.
“Come on,” Alessio urged Corrado, his tongue snaking out to taste the salt on his lover’s jaw as those words tumbled out. “Fucking give it to me, then.”
“Fuck.”
Teeth scraped against his stubble, a sting following the same path. The ache of Corrado’s hands, one still at his throat, and the other now pushing firmly against the hard ridges of Alessio’s abdominal muscles, only want more.
“Come,” Alessio goaded. “Fucking come.”
The control Corrado always had snapped, and nothing was better than that, too. The wild darkness he found in the man’s gaze under the dim lighting of the one bedside lamp which was still on. The way he bared his teeth and met that challenge staring back.
After all these years that was still the same.
Sex was still their war.
There were no losers here.
It didn’t matter if he was fucking, or the one being fucked. This was their battle that only got better with time. The one place they found the most solace together. Quiet, alone, lost in each other, and nothing else.
Fuck, he forgot how much he missed that.
How much he needed it.
The husky moan that escaped Corrado as his next thrust brought him to a full stop against Alessio, his grasp stilled before it trembled like the rest of his body, brought him out of the remnants of his own orgasm to watch his lover fall into his.
Corrado’s head dipped down, his forehead pressing to Alessio’s chest over the tattoo of a crowned heart, as his back tensed, and a curse fell from his lips. Nothing sounded better, and nothing would ever calm him more than this.
Of that, he was most sure.
Seconds passed.
Silence echoed.
Alessio sighed. “Too fucking long, Corrado.”
“Yeah.”
“Shit still won’t be perfect,” Alessio warned.
He figured, the man needed to hear that.
He did, too.
“But it is right now,” Cor
rado replied, tone low.
“It is right now.”
Their reminder.
They could have this. It would be there, present and effective like they needed it to be. That didn’t mean it would fix everything. Sex didn’t work that way, not for them. But it helped.
Alessio stared at the ceiling above him, body thrumming and sensitive in the best way. “I could love her.”
His words were soft in the darkness. Like maybe if he didn’t say them loudly, then they wouldn’t come true yet. He wasn’t sure if he was as ready for that as he had been for this.
He heard Corrado’s swallow.
Audible, and weighted.
Like the rest of this, too.
It was all too fucking heavy.
“I could,” Alessio said again.
“You should. You should.”
Alessio shifted around Corrado in the walk-in closet, reaching past to grab the folded pair of black jeans sitting in a pile of other plain, black jeans. It was almost amusing because even Alessio’s clothes had remained in Corrado’s room, although the man didn’t.
Corrado slipped a watch onto his wrist, already mostly dressed after their shared shower. He wasn’t soon going to forget that, or the night before, either. It always led to far better mornings when he woke up next to the person—people, now—he wanted. Last night seemed like it was for him and Alessio, and this morning … well, it was only for Les.
From the second the man backed him against the shower wall, to the way his teeth had found the back of Corrado’s neck when he fucked him.
Like that, they connected better.
It was easier.
“Yeah, this is gonna have to do,” Alessio muttered.
Corrado eyed him from the side, smirking. “You’re practically naked.”
In nothing but black jeans, showing off inked, tanned skin, nipple rings, and the hard-cut V of his groin, Alessio stared back at Corrado like he didn’t see the problem. He hadn’t even bothered to pull on shoes or socks. He worked on affixing his row of bracelets and his favorite watch to his wrist as he asked, “And?”
Corrado shook his head. “And nothing.”
It spoke to their differences again.
The things which make them unique.
Corrado was up and dressed in slacks, his usual silk button-down, and ready for the day, bad mood not included. He couldn’t be in a bad mood after a night and morning like the one they had. It had been a long fucking time coming.
Alessio liked a bit of laziness when he first woke up after a night like the one before. Half-dressed, partially awake, still happy, all things considered, but not sure if he wanted to start the day or not.
Leaning against the row of shelving in the walk-in closet, Alessio said nothing as Corrado pulled a silk tie from the rack that matched the navy blue of his shirt. He didn’t mind the man’s attention, because it wasn’t unusual, but he still figured after the night before, maybe Alessio had things to say.
“What?” Corrado asked.
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
Alessio grinned. “Just thinking I missed this, is all.”
Corrado stilled as he threw the tie around his neck, the ends hanging down. He peeked up, meeting Alessio’s stare to hold it as the silence echoed all around them. Not that he needed to repeat or confirm what Alessio had said because he heard it fine. He didn’t think Alessio needed Corrado to say he felt the same, either.
Wasn’t it obvious?
And yet, he still murmured, “Me, too. Every fucking day, Les.”
Because this was them.
Their life, routine, and thing together. Morning, noon, and night. For five years, there were things about them that had never changed. And when one became comfortable in the mundane parts of life with someone else at their side, like getting dressed together first thing in the morning, it was like missing your left hand when you had to do it alone.
Corrado hated that.
He needed Alessio to feel right.
Normal.
“Yeah, me too,” Corrado said again, moving to leave the walk-in closet.
Alessio stopped him with a hand that shot out fast to slip around Corrado’s neck to stop him. His fingers threaded into Corrado’s hair line at the nape of his neck, tightening just enough, before he yanked him forward for a kiss.
He took that, too.
Happily.
It was softer than their moments had been the night before, or even that morning. Slower, too, like Alessio wanted to enjoy it.
Corrado didn’t mind at all.
His teeth dragged along Alessio’s lower lip as he pulled away with a wink. “We’re good?”
Alessio nodded. “We’re better.”
He’d take that.
It was something other than what they had been.
“And I’m still not fucking getting entirely dressed yet,” Alessio grumbled when Corrado turned to leave the closet. He laughed, hearing the pattering of Alessio’s footsteps following behind him. “I want pancakes.”
“Cook them.”
“I don’t … cook.”
“You should learn. Why do I always have to feed you? It should be the other way around occasionally, yeah?”
Alessio made a noise under his breath.
Corrado just chuckled.
“Fine, I’ll cook them, but if you die from it, you can’t blame me.”
“I’ll help.”
“Thought so.”
He ignored the smugness to the man’s tone as he found the shoes he’d slipped off next to the bed before climbing in the night before. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he shoved his feet into the supple leather loafers, glancing up to find Alessio leaning against the small dresser between the bathroom and closet doors.
“I’m not signing the contract for The League’s auctions,” Alessio said without prompting.
Corrado took those words in before responding. It was Alessio’s choice, but after saying his piece that day in the office, he decided there wasn’t anything else he needed to do.
Like everything else in their relationship.
Corrado didn’t have to like it all.
“And how does Dare feel about that?” Corrado asked.
Alessio shrugged. “It’s not his choice.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m aware.”
It didn’t matter, Corrado decided.
Alessio was right.
No one else but Alessio got the final say.
Standing from the bed, ready to start his day in a far better mood than he had in a month or more, Corrado turned to face the doorway of the bedroom.
The opened door, he realized.
He blinked, staring across the hall to the open doorway of the bedroom just across from his. There, Ginevra slept on top of her blankets, like usual. There was nothing strange about that, and yet, it still seemed like he was missing something.
“Hey,” Alessio said behind him. “We cooking food, or not?”
Corrado didn’t move. “Did you close the door last night?”
Alessio didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t need to.
A sound escaped Corrado, wary and curious at the same time. “Les?”
“I can’t remember, and I don’t, no. That’s your thing, not mine. Someone is in the bed, you close the door. I came in, Corrado, and we didn’t get out of the bed.”
“I didn’t open it this morning.”
“Me, either.”
They had yet to leave the bedroom. So yeah, the door had been open all night.
Had Ginevra’s also been open?
Fuck.
“If your first ten calls and messages went unanswered,” Andino Marcello said, his tone cool in Corrado’s ear on the other end of the call, “then maybe that should have been a clue to you about the fact I wasn’t willing to chat.”
Corrado stiffened, trying to subdue the urge to tell this asshole where he could fuck himself, and wi
th what tool to use to do it. “Despite this … favor,” he said, choosing his words carefully although he wanted to make himself clear, “I don’t answer to you, Andino. When this is all said and done, remember that, yeah?”
Alessio peeked over his shoulder, arching a brow in silent question. Corrado shook his head in response, not wanting the man to worry about it. They would talk about this after. Alessio needed to focus on not burning the pancakes.
Because apparently, standing next to the stove while he cooked was too big of a hassle. That was every reason Corrado was standing behind him while on the call to make sure Alessio didn’t move from his spot.
That, and he wanted to be close.
“I have nothing to tell you,” Andino snapped.
“She would like to speak to her sisters.”
“Absolutely not. As far as they know, she is missing, and dead. I want them to keep believing that. They are too young to understand the consequences of outing the fact she’s still alive.”
“They think what?” Corrado hissed.
Alessio’s hand drifted behind him, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Corrado’s shirt like he assumed holding onto the man would keep him calm. It helped; he wouldn’t lie about that. So much so that Corrado moved closer to Alessio. Close enough to share the warmth of Alessio’s sculpted back molding against his silk-covered chest.
“You’re not serious, right?” Corrado asked, his tone calmer.
Not by much though.
“I need people to rely on what I tell them,” Andino said, sounding as though he was just about done with this conversation. “And I don’t care if you, or she, or anyone else, fucking likes it. As long as I get what I want that’s what matters.”
“They’re teenagers. You’re traumatizing them, likely. Their father died a while back, then their mother, and now they think their sister is—”
“Is there something I can do for you, or did you keep calling me so you could bitch about shit that won’t change soon, Corrado?”
His jaw ached. That’s how hard he was clenching his fucking teeth. It was likely the next time he had a face-to-face moment with Andino, well, it would not end well. Corrado would guarantee it wouldn’t end badly for him, though.
“Easy,” Alessio murmured as though he was reading Corrado’s mind. It was far more probable he was feeling Corrado’s body cues that spoke of his anger, and he was reacting to that. “Try to get something you want from him. Something to give her, Corrado. It’s the best you can do. We can handle his stupid ass another day.”
