The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 1

by Bethany-Kris

  “Yeah, I know,” Alessio added when Corrado continued to stay quiet.

  Raging blue met dark brown when the two stared at one another in the hallway. The silence stretched on, heavy and loaded with a lot of shit Corrado had been leaving to the wayside where he and Alessio were concerned. Things like feelings and what the fuck was even going on between them. The labels he hated because once you labeled yourself, the rest of the goddamn world thought they got the right to do the same. Or even the fact that he’d never connected with someone on a level like he did with Les—like the man just knew the craziness in Corrado’s mind without him ever needing to open his mouth to say it.

  And he recognized those same things in Alessio, too.

  These things?

  It was too much.

  Too deep.

  Things that he figured, once they were said, there was no going back. And maybe that bothered Corrado because it scared him. He didn’t like to be scared of shit—didn’t want to be, either—but he didn’t know how to tell Alessio that without the rest of the shit in his mind spilling out, too.

  Like the fact he didn’t know how to do this.

  How to be someone to someone else.

  How to be a them.

  A thing.

  And despite a part of him not wanting to admit he wanted to be exactly that, even if that meant he would need to deal with things he’d shoved down where nobody could find them, the other part was louder.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Alessio said.

  Corrado arched a brow. “You didn’t answer mine.”

  “I already said you don’t want me to.”

  Right.

  “And that’s your problem,” Corrado replied, shoving the keycard through the reader to unlock the room door, “because you don’t listen nearly as well as you fucking talk, Les.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  Corrado shook his head, opening the door and entering the hotel room. He dropped his jacket to a chair, kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag, and headed for the bathroom. All the while, he ignored Alessio behind him as he called after him.

  “Hey, I’m fucking speaking to you. What does that mean?”

  No.

  He was done talking.

  For one, this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. And for two, because even if he did want to have it, he didn’t know where to begin. Not without admitting he didn’t know if he could ever be something with Alessio.

  Maybe a part of Corrado was just broken.

  Or wrong.

  Who knew?

  “Corrado!”

  He let the slam of the bathroom door answer Alessio’s shout of his name. Maybe he’d get the hint, then, and back the hell off. Corrado hoped for too much, because as he was tugging off his shirt while turning on the shower taps in the large bathroom, Alessio came right in.

  Like he’d been invited.

  “We’re not done here,” Alessio said.

  Corrado made a harsh noise under his breath, shrugging off his pants, and yanking off his socks. Fine. If that’s what Alessio wanted—an answer to his damn question—then he would get one. “No, okay? No, I didn’t even know that guy existed until you made it into a thing. I was too busy thinking it would have been a far better day had you been here to show me around the city.” He stood straight, fingers hooking around the waistband of his boxer-briefs to shove them down before he could step into the shower. “There, is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “You think that’s what this is about?”

  “No, I think you want something from me that I’m not even sure I can give, Les. Why can’t I give it to you? I don’t know, so don’t ask. But if you’re looking for that, you’re not going to get it.”

  “I—”

  “Get out so I can shower.”

  Alessio stood firm. “No.”

  “Fine.”

  Fuck him.

  Corrado shoved his boxer-briefs down, and stepped into the shower, closing the frosted glass door behind him to keep Alessio out. Not that it really would if the man wanted to come in, anyway. He didn’t need Alessio to be done with the conversation to keep doing what he wanted to do. He was sure that frustrated the hell out of his companion, but whatever.

  Even beneath the spray of heavy, hot water from a shower head that was the size of a dinner plate, Corrado could still hear Alessio when he spoke. “I keep thinking it’s your pride that does shit like this, but I don’t know anymore.”

  Staring at the brown and beige tiles, Corrado willed his ears to stop working. If for just a second because he didn’t want to know he was fucking this up. He didn’t want to know he was hurting someone he cared about.

  Someone he loved.

  Because he wasn’t ready to say that.

  It couldn’t be real.

  Once it became real, then he had a whole bag of other shit to unpack, too. Like the people in his life who would say he was wrong and weak for loving who he did. Like the people who would shame his father, his family ... their entire legacy because he loved another man. That culture—the mafia—was caustic when it came to people like him, and it wouldn’t matter that he wasn’t in it. It wouldn’t make a difference because there were still expectations for him, and his family, regardless if he was made or not.

  He knew it.

  He heard them his whole life.

  People like him?

  They were shamed.

  Shunned.

  Forgotten.

  God knew he never wanted to put his family in that position—he never wanted to make his parents or his brothers feel like they had to choose between him, and the life they’d always known. It didn’t matter that they would accept him because there would be plenty of others around them that wouldn’t. And when they chose to fight for him, it would only leave them with a target on their backs because of it.

  That’s how the mafia worked. When one didn’t fall in line, even if that one was the boss, then the rest seemed to take that as a sign of weakness. A problem that had to be culled before it could get worse.

  He loved his family.

  He loved where he came from.

  Those were things Corrado was not willing to give up, not for anything. And if he was going to keep them, and maintain the delicate line he’d been walking his whole life, then nothing could change. He couldn’t give more to Alessio than he already had without sacrificing something else. It would always be that way.

  It was Corrado’s burden to carry.

  He didn’t expect Alessio to understand these things. He didn’t think the man would care, either. Because in reality, they weren’t at all alike, and they didn’t come from the same world.

  That pride of his ...

  It was still a bitch, but that was only because pride was the only thing that kept Corrado sane a lot of the times.

  “I should have listened, right?” Alessio asked outside of the shower, his voice muffled by the water pouring down on Corrado’s tense form. He heard the shuffle of fabric before Alessio added, “I asked what this was, and you said nothing. Man, yeah, I should have fucking listened when you said that.”

  His teeth clenched, holding back words and pride and the truth. “Les—”

  Corrado’s back hit the tiled wall when, without warning, the shower doors were thrown wide open. Cold air rushed in with the man that stepped inside, too, both wrapping around Corrado, but in entirely different ways.

  The cold chilled him, slinking around his skin and muscles with a featherlight touch that had him shivering just beyond the spray of water.

  Alessio, though?

  He made Corrado hot, taking away that icy air as Alessio’s hands landed to either side of his head, smacking against tile and effectively pinning him in place. He wasn’t even touching him, but Corrado knew there was no way he was moving, now.

  Not with Les so close.

  Not with that heat.

  “Except you’re a fucking liar,” Alessio murmured, his lips coming d
angerously close to Corrado’s as he spoke low, “because we can’t be nothing when from the start, we were something.”

  Shit.

  He hadn’t even taken his clothes off. Corrado was all too aware of that right now. The way the water soaked through Alessio’s clothes, making the fabric mold to his body. And as much as he liked the way it looked, he couldn’t focus on that when all he could see was an ocean of blue bearing down on him.

  Ready to drown him.

  “You’re right,” Corrado said thickly. “You are.”

  Alessio’s stance didn’t soften a bit. “But? Because I can hear that—even when you don’t say shit, I hear it, Corrado.”

  “But this is what I can give you. I can’t give more. Either this is good enough for you, or you get nothing at all. That’s how it has to be for me, and for this.”

  Silence echoed.

  Alessio’s gaze blazed brighter.

  Then, his palm slapped the tiled wall next to Corrado’s head hard enough that he felt it vibrate through the back of his skull. Yet, he didn’t flinch; he wasn’t ever concerned that this man would strike out against him in a physical way—not now.

  People didn’t hurt things they loved.

  Life taught Corrado that.

  “Fuck you,” Alessio muttered, his jaw tight, and his mouth twisting with his anger. “Fuck you for that, too, because you know, right? You know it’s better to have a piece of what you love than to have none of it at all.”

  “I’m sor—”

  “Fuck you for doing that to me.”

  As fast as Alessio had come into the shower, he turned and left.

  “Les, wait,” Corrado called after him.

  He got nothing.

  Not even a noise.

  “Fuck.”

  He hit the switch on the shower turning the water off, so he could go after Alessio. The cold air slammed into him again when he stepped beyond the glass doors, but he barely felt it. He was more concerned with the fact that the bathroom was now empty, the only sign of Alessio’s presence being the droplets of water on the floor leading out. Grabbing the towel on the rack, Corrado tightened it around his waist as he headed out of the bathroom.

  Alessio hadn’t gone far.

  Across the hotel room, the other man stripped out of the sopping wet clothes, leaving only his underwear, with his back turned to Corrado. There was no way he didn’t hear his approach because Corrado didn’t bother to be quiet as he came up behind him.

  Still, Alessio said nothing as he pulled dry clothes from the bag. He stood straight, shoving the boxer-briefs down around muscular thighs as he finally turned around to face Corrado. Like now he had enough give-a-damn to allow the man his attention.

  “Aren’t I always the one running away from you?” Corrado asked, bitterness coating every word. “Not the other way around.”

  Alessio chuckled, nodding as he fisted the dry clothes in his hand. Standing there naked, he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. Not that Corrado expected anything different from him. Shame was not something Les was well acquainted with, to be honest.

  “What, you don’t like a taste of your own medicine?”

  “Don’t be a fucking child, Les.”

  “I’m not.” Lifting his shoulders, Alessio added, “See, it changes nothing here, Corrado. You said what you needed to say to keep your pride right where you like it—but it isn’t what you want to say. And it changes fuck all.”

  “What does that even—”

  “We’re still something, and you’re still mine.”

  Corrado blinked.

  Stunned.

  Alessio smirked a bit, clearly liking the reaction he got for that. “Yeah, because if you get to decide shit just because without considering me, then I get to do the same. And I decided that. You’re mine, and while we’re doing this together, keep that in mind.”

  He stepped closer.

  Corrado didn’t move an inch.

  Just like in the shower, Alessio crowded him until all he could see was an ocean of stormy blue coming for him. Those eyes of Alessio’s always told the truth of things far better than his mouth did.

  He was hurt—he wouldn’t say it, though.

  He was pissed—it was just an afterthought right now.

  Corrado did that.

  He hated it.

  “How’s that for you?” Alessio asked.

  “Depends on what it means,” Corrado returned.

  “It means while I’m fucking you, or you’re fucking me ... or we’re playing this stupid game with each other, then it’s just us. It’s you,” Alessio said, pointing a finger at Corrado, and then turning it around on himself as he added, “and me. That’s it. No other man gets to have you while I do, you got me?”

  That’s what he wanted?

  Corrado cleared his throat. “That’s what you want? Exclusivity?”

  “No, loyalty. Because if you can’t give me anything else, then you at least owe me that. And if you can’t give me that, either, then this isn’t happening at all.”

  All right.

  Corrado let out a slow exhale, both annoyed and amused. But wasn’t that what Alessio had always done to him? Frustrated and fascinated him to no end? Challenged and tested him every step of the goddamn way?

  Why would this be different?

  “Well?” Alessio demanded.

  He was so close now, his mouth nearly grazed Corrado’s as he spoke. And yet, it was still the intensity in his eyes leveling on Corrado that kept him ensnared, unable to move.

  “Just you and me,” Corrado replied. “Any other rules you want to slap on this while we’re here?”

  “Is that what we’re going to call it—rules?”

  “Why not?”

  Alessio sighed harshly. “Don’t joke. This isn’t a joke.”

  “I’m not. I’m trying to give you as much as I can. You want control here? Fine, you have it. What are the rules, Les? Tell me. I’m listening.”

  “Just that one, then.”

  Alessio inched closer. Not that there was much space between them left to close now. In fact, this put the two of them practically skin to skin, but he was fine with that. Closer was always better with this man. Like this, he saw more; found more that Les liked to hide. Maybe they weren’t all that different, after all.

  Corrado felt Alessio’s knuckles as they grazed the line of his stomach just above where the towel rested on his hips. It was a soft touch—barely there at all, if he were being honest. Except it was there, and that was important.

  That was Alessio.

  It was him being okay.

  Connection in his silence, and that’s what he offered. Corrado would take it. Even if it was just knuckles stroking his skin. He’d always take what Alessio gave him. No questions asked.

  “No other men, got it.” Corrado grinned a bit, murmuring, “Women are okay, then?”

  That touch stilled on his stomach.

  Alessio’s head snapped up, and his gaze leveled on Corrado at the same time his tongue peeked out to swipe along the seam of his lower lip. Maybe it was the way the blues of his eyes darkened a bit, or it could have been how that soft touch against his skin turned into rough fingers grasping tightly to his side.

  Whatever it was, Corrado saw it.

  Felt it.

  He just wasn’t sure what it was.

  “What was that?” he asked quietly.

  Alessio’s throat jumped when he swallowed thickly. “I was just thinking about that.” He made a rough noise, adding, “It was a nice picture, and ... yeah.”

  Huh.

  He wasn’t going to pretend like he didn’t like the sound of that because he did. Probably a little too much for it to be healthy, but now wasn’t the time. Even if his cock, perking to life under the towel around his waist, had an entirely different idea.

  “More rules, then?” Corrado asked.

  “We’ll work on that,” Alessio replied huskily.

  “All right. Where do we go fr
om here?”

  “Forward.”

  Alessio’s fingertips dragged along the line of Corrado’s stomach, then curled into the line of the towel to pull it away at the same time his other hand came up to circle around his throat. The kiss that came after, as the towel was dropped to the floor, reminded him exactly why he was here doing this in the first place.

  The war of it.

  The fight in it.

  There was passion there, stoked by pride and words unsaid, emboldened by a touch that made him feel like a live wire, and strengthened by a man who was willing to cut his own heart out and hand it over if it meant keeping what he wanted.

  Corrado knew that too well.

  Here he was, doing the same.

  Even if it was for different reasons.

  He’d keep Les.

  He needed to.

  It just had to be this way.

  Alessio’s hand grabbed the back of Corrado’s neck, and he dragged him down closer to the floor even as he continued kissing him. He was lost in the roughness, too lost to understand that Alessio had grabbed a small bag from within his backpack on the floor until he threw it across the room.

  The small bag hit the top of the bed.

  That didn’t matter, either.

  Not really.

  What mattered was the palm hitting flat to his chest, pushing him back while the hand at the back of his neck kept him right there, connected to that kiss until he felt like all he could taste and breathe was Alessio. It was only after his back had hit the bed, when Alessio had crawled on top of him, that Corrado realized this was different.

  Up until this point in their fucking and moments, it had always been him that felt in control—the one making the demands. And this was not the same. Not when it was Alessio’s rough movements and kiss that had Corrado arching up to get more when the man dared to pull away.

  Because now he was fucking desperate.

  Now he wanted this.

  Soft sheets slid against his back, Corrado found Alessio watching him as he reached for that bag. It seemed that’s what he wanted, to watch Corrado as he took him—as he was given what he wanted.

  And he did.

  Watched him as he sheathed the thick length of his dick in latex. Watched him as cold lube and deft fingers stretched him open while Alessio’s mouth worked his cock until he felt like he was going to come from that alone. Watched him when he was ready to beg to come when Alessio started working the head of his cock against Corrado’s ass.