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.
“It is right now.”
Their reminder.
They could have this. It would be there, present and effective like they needed it to be. That didn’t mean it would fix everything. Sex didn’t work that way, not for them. But it helped.
Alessio stared at the ceiling above him, body thrumming and sensitive in the best way. “I could love her.”
His words were soft in the darkness. Like maybe if he didn’t say them loudly, then they wouldn’t come true yet. He wasn’t sure if he was as ready for that as he had been for this.
He heard Corrado’s swallow.
Audible, and weighted.
Like the rest of this, too.
It was all too fucking heavy.
“I could,” Alessio said again.
“You should. You should.”
11.
Corrado
Alessio shifted around Corrado in the walk-in closet, reaching past to grab the folded pair of black jeans sitting in a pile of other plain, black jeans. It was almost amusing because even Alessio’s clothes had remained in Corrado’s room, although the man didn’t.
Corrado slipped a watch onto his wrist, already mostly dressed after their shared shower. He wasn’t soon going to forget that, or the night before, either. It always led to far better mornings when he woke up next to the person—people, now—he wanted. Last night seemed like it was for him and Alessio, and this morning ... well, it was only for Les.
From the second the man backed him against the shower wall, to the way his teeth had found the back of Corrado’s neck when he fucked him.
Like that, they connected better.
It was easier.
“Yeah, this is gonna have to do,” Alessio muttered.
Corrado eyed him from the side, smirking. “You’re practically naked.”
In nothing but black jeans, showing off inked, tanned skin, nipple rings, and the hard-cut V of his groin, Alessio stared back at Corrado like he didn’t see the problem. He hadn’t even bothered to pull on shoes or socks. He worked on affixing his row of bracelets and his favorite watch to his wrist as he asked, “And?”
Corrado shook his head. “And nothing.”
It spoke to their differences again.
The things which make them unique.
Corrado was up and dressed in slacks, his usual silk button-down, and ready for the day, bad mood not included. He couldn’t be in a bad mood after a night and morning like the one they had. It had been a long fucking time coming.
Alessio liked a bit of laziness when he first woke up after a night like the one before. Half-dressed, partially awake, still happy, all things considered, but not sure if he wanted to start the day or not.
Leaning against the row of shelving in the walk-in closet, Alessio said nothing as Corrado pulled a silk tie from the rack that matched the navy blue of his shirt. He didn’t mind the man’s attention, because it wasn’t unusual, but he still figured after the night before, maybe Alessio had things to say.
“What?” Corrado asked.
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
Alessio grinned. “Just thinking I missed this, is all.”
Corrado stilled as he threw the tie around his neck, the ends hanging down. He peeked up, meeting Alessio’s stare to hold it as the silence echoed all around them. Not that he needed to repeat or confirm what Alessio had said because he heard it fine. He didn’t think Alessio needed Corrado to say he felt the same, either.
Wasn’t it obvious?
And yet, he still murmured, “Me, too. Every fucking day, Les.”
Because this was them.
Their life, routine, and thing together. Morning, noon, and night. For five years, there were things about them that had never changed. And when one became comfortable in the mundane parts of life with someone else at their side, like getting dressed together first thing in the morning, it was like missing your left hand when you had to do it alone.
Corrado hated that.
He needed Alessio to feel right.
Normal.
“Yeah, me too,” Corrado said again, moving to leave the walk-in closet.
Alessio stopped him with a hand that shot out fast to slip around Corrado’s neck to stop him. His fingers threaded into Corrado’s hair line at the nape of his neck, tightening just enough, before he yanked him forward for a kiss.
He took that, too.
Happily.
It was softer than their moments had been the night before, or even that morning. Slower, too, like Alessio wanted to enjoy it.
Corrado didn’t mind at all.
His teeth dragged along Alessio’s lower lip as he pulled away with a wink. “We’re good?”
Alessio nodded. “We’re better.”
He’d take that.
It was something other than what they had been.
“And I’m still not fucking getting entirely dressed yet,” Alessio grumbled when Corrado turned to leave the closet. He laughed, hearing the pattering of Alessio’s footsteps following behind him. “I want pancakes.”
“Cook them.”
“I don’t ... cook.”
“You should learn. Why do I always have to feed you? It should be the other way around occasionally, yeah?”
Alessio made a noise under his breath.
Corrado just chuckled.
“Fine, I’ll cook them, but if you die from it, you can’t blame me.”
“I’ll help.”
“Thought so.”
He ignored the smugness to the man’s tone as he found the shoes he’d slipped off next to the bed before climbing in the night before. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he shoved his feet into the supple leather loafers, glancing up to find Alessio leaning against the small dresser between the bathroom and closet doors.
“I’m not signing the contract for The League’s auctions,” Alessio said without prompting.
Corrado took those words in before responding. It was Alessio’s choice, but after saying his piece that day in the office, he decided there wasn’t anything else he needed to do.
Like everything else in their relationship.