Page 57 of Corrado

Alessio grinned, and turned to his stomach where he could bury most of his face into the pillow. Cracking just one eye open, though, he stared at Corrado who laid on his back, a hand splayed over his naked chest, while he stared at the ceiling. He said nothing, simply reached over to drag the tips of his fingers through the longer bit of Corrado’s hair where his high fade started to darken.

Just as quickly, he pulled his hand back, the need to touch him satisfied. He was there. All was good to Alessio—he simply needed the reminder.

He never spoke it out loud, though.

It didn’t make sense.

Why bother?

Corrado glanced over at Alessio, his dark eyes drifting over him in the bed beside him before he stared back up at the ceiling. It was in their quiet moments where Alessio found peace. He had quiet before—time when he was completely alone, no distractions. And yet, it wasn’t the same when it was just him and Corrado.

Here, they decompressed.

Here, nothing mattered.

Here, it was just them.

Silently, Corrado’s hand slipped off his chest to find Alessio’s against the sheets. His fingers curled tightly with Alessio’s, and wove together, tucking their hands next to his hip where their bodies were close enough to hide the touch.

“If I never see another dismantled gun again, that would be great.”

Alessio barked out a tired laugh. “Tomorrow, you’ll have five new guns waiting.”

“Fucking bull—”

“It’s a good lesson to learn.”

“Right,” Corrado mumbled, scrubbing a hand down his unshaven jaw. “I’ll remember that. What’s that file for, anyway?”

Alessio stiffened.

Corrado didn’t miss it.

“What?”

“The one on the stand?”

“That’s the only one in this room, isn’t it?”

Alessio’s jaw clicked from how hard he clenched it to hold the words back. He wasn’t sure why, all of the sudden, he didn’t want to tell Corrado about his assignment, but the urge was strong. They were just starting to figure whatever this was out—if someone wanted to call it that, but he didn’t know if he would.

Nonetheless, that didn’t make it any less true. And here they were, at this unsteady point, and now he was about to head out to a whole different country for three or four weeks? That sounded like a problem waiting to happen.

“Les,” Corrado murmured, waiting.

“It’s … uh, a job.”

That time, Corrado stiffened. “A job?”

“Mmm.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then, another.

Alessio waited it out.

“Can you say what it’s for, or no?”