Page 40 of Alessio

“Why would I do that to someone I lov—”

Alessio turned his head fast, his lips crashing against Corrado’s. He still wasn’t ready for those words, still didn’t want to hear them, not when he was trying to deal with everything else too. It made it more difficult, because part of him wanted that more than anything, he wanted those words for so long, and now, Corrado needed to say them, too.

But all it took was that kiss, the hard work of their lips moving against one another’s, and they lost the words. Oh, the anger was still there, visceral and vicious. Tinging every swipe of his lips against Corrado’s. That anger colored the roughness in Corrado’s hands when they slid down the sleeves of tattoos on Alessio’s arms.

Still, it was a background thought.

Fading away with the flavor of Corrado when Alessio’s tongue teased the seam of his lips. He had far more he wanted to say, all those warring emotions battling for a presence, but he didn’t want to feel anything at all.

Instead, he found somewhere else to go—a better place to be. He found it in the wet clothing covering Corrado’s hard lines as he crowded closer to Alessio. He reveled in letting the anger drift away when a firm grip found his cock and stroked him fast. Teeth cut into his lower lip, giving him a shock of pain with the hot licks of pleasure climbing his spine with every pull of Corrado’s hand along his length.

It’d been too long.

Hell, he hadn’t even touched himself in weeks.

Too caught up in their shit, this mess, and everything else. Sex came secondary, and he didn’t care for the release when it would only be fucking empty. And yet, he was begging for it, now. Craving it, so bad.

“Jesus Christ,” he growled against Corrado’s kiss.

That palm on his dick tightened.

God, yeah.

“Let me say it,” Corrado murmured, “just fucking let me say it, Les.”

“Shut up.”

“Stop using that to punish me.”

Never once did Corrado’s hand slow. Those strokes came faster, and the next kiss bruised. It’s what Alessio needed, what he wanted more than anything, and when he came … fuck, it ached as much as it relieved. His semen spilled between them, hitting the tiles just long enough for the water to wash it all away. A broken sound tore from his chest, breathless and harsh, as Corrado’s hand slowed but his fingers tightened at the same time.

Corrado’s gaze lifted to meet his, but Alessio was already turning his head to look away again. Now, they had switched places, he thought. It wasn’t him that wanted something from Corrado that his lover wouldn’t give.

The shoe was on the other foot.

He didn’t mean for it to punish; love wouldn’t hurt anymore.

Corrado released his hold on Alessio, his palm coming up to snap hard against the tiles of the shower when he still wouldn’t return his stare.

He couldn’t.

Not when he was mad again.

“So, what if this thing of ours has to change?” Corrado asked. “What if it makes it better?”

Alessio didn’t reply.

Corrado stepped back from him, letting the cold air wrap around Alessio as he moved out of the shower. He left behind a mess on the floor from the water dripping off his clothes, closed the shower without a word, and exited the bathroom with a slam of the door.

Only then did Alessio breathe again.

What if it makes it better?

Right.

Because it sure as hell couldn’t get worse.

Rolling over, because Corrado could no longer ignore the sun coming in through the windows of the bedroom, his hand slid across the top of the bedside table. Soon, he found the device he was looking for.