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“Lie down,” he growls. “Facing me.” We both shuffle down in the bed so we’re lying down, and he spits in his hand, holds it out for me to spit it in, too. Then he takes up where we left off, working our dicks together in his one big hand. I stretch like a cat, trying to remember that I’m supposed to have suffered a serious blow to the head as he slides his big hand up and down my hot cock. There’s something about the way he does it. Like he’s in charge, like this is all for his pleasure. I can’t help but buck up into that tight grip as he works me. The friction feels wonderful, and I’m tingling all over, a sure precursor to a good orgasm.
“You’re a fucking dirty boy, Castellani,” he mutters. “You’re such a slut for me.”
“You’re right,” I gasp. “I am. And you love it.”
“How can you be so easy? You’re a fucking mess.”
I arch my back again, feeling the delicious pull of his hand. I’m getting so close, the pleasure burning inside me. “I meant it, Leo,” I pant out.
“Meant what?”
He’s as close as I am. I have to time it right. I reach out, pull him into a close embrace, and put my lips to his ears. “You’d make a great Boss,” I whisper, just as I feel his dick swelling hard against mine in his hand.
“Fuck, yeah,” he gasps out, and whether it’s afuck, yeah, that feels goodor afuck, yeah, I’d make a great Boss, I come myself with the satisfaction that I’ve planted a seed.
And covered him with mine, too.
He cleans me up, then himself, then comes back to bed, and I snuggle into the old sheets covering his lumpy bed. The sheets smell of him, though, and it’s comforting. Comforting, too, is the way he holds me, spooning me close and throwing a leg over mine.
And at last Leo lets me fall asleep, exactly three hours exactly after the medic left. It’s so late it’s early, and I close my eyes against the sick yellow dawn of another Los Angeles day and sink into a well-earned dreamless sleep.
* * *
When I wake, he’s already gone. I can tell he’s not here even before I roll over and find his side of the bed cold and empty.
There’s a note on the box next to the bed that he uses as a nightstand.I’ll be back at 2.
I spring out of bed. I have to work fast. It’s already twenty to two, and I can’t be sure Leo’s sense of timing is pinpoint accurate.
I move fast, searching his tiny apartment. I really am taken aback by his standard of living. Okay, the Bernardis aren’t the highest flyers in LA, not like us Castellanis, but the guy is the Boss’s son. He’s their Enforcer. And he lives like this?
The place is a dump. The apartment is a one-bedroom with a bathroom off the bedroom and kitchen right next to the front door. There’s one very thin layer of old, stained carpet over floorboards. The cramped living area is dominated by an enormous TV and the couch seems to have been salvaged from a flea market. Everything is old and worn. The couch cushions are sagging, the coffee table warped, the blinds crooked. The air is stale, with a faint scene of sweat, sex and bourbon. If he had more possessions, it might reach untidy, but as it is, it’s just sad.
Out of the window in the living room, I run an eye over the buildings on the other side of the road, their windows and doors like narrow eyes staring at Leo’s apartment building with disdain. He seems to live in the worst apartment block on the street.
I find a gun under his bed in a small, neatly folded plastic bag. Evidence he still needs to destroy? Who knows.
But there’s nothing here to use against him, not in the way I need.
I make sure to lie prone in bed, looking weak and miserable when he comes back in.
“How you feeling?” he asks gruffly. He’s bought me a coffee and, as my nose tells me, a takeout carton of bacon and eggs. “Got you this,” he says, holding up the box before looking me over with a frown. “You want to eat out here, or in bed?”
“Out there,” I say at once. I don’t want to risk dripping egg yolk and grease over these already-stained sheets, not if I have to lie back in them again until the 24 hours are up.
“How’s your head?” he asks. I throw aside the sheets and get up. He can’t keep his eyes off my cock, so I know at least I still have that weapon to use against him. I wondered how long I had until familiarity bred contempt, but he still seems eager for my body.
Just as I am still eager for his. That’s the real surprise. I haven’t yet had my fill of Leo Bernardi. “You’re always a surprise,” I murmur, wandering naked through to the tiny table and single chair.
“What do you mean?”
I pause, wrap a hand around the back of his head and pull him in for a sloppy kiss before I reply. “Food and coffee. Thoughtful.”
He looks pleased before he frowns again. “Same as I’d do for any one of my buddies.”
“Ah, but I’m not your buddy. Not like that. Fuck buddy, perhaps,” I allow, as I sit and open the food box. “God, I’m starving. And my head is fine, to answer your question.”
“I didn’t want to leave you,” he says, a little defensive, as though I’d accused him of neglect, “but I had to take care of some business, and I got no food in this place. Figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.”
