Page 63 of Alessio

“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,” Corrado replied, tone low.