A grinning face awaited them at the door. It was a lovely grinning face.
“Niccolo,” Michele greeted. Alessandro could hear his smile. Michele leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Niccolo’s lips. When he drew back, he dragged Alessandro in front of him by the wrist. “This is Alessandro.”
Niccolo’s gaze turned to him, deep brown eyes warm and welcoming. "It’s nice to meet you.” He was handsome. His hair was a dark brown—nearly black. His skin was olive, free of blemishes. He was tall and lean, much like Michele. A kind smile sat on his pink lips. “Please, come in.” He stepped aside, allowing Alessandro and Michele space to enter.
But Michele shuffled his feet, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Actually. . .I have some errands to run. I thought I could leave you two to get to know each other.”
Niccolo looked surprised, but Alessandro’s heart was beating out of his chest with anxiety. Being left alone with a perfect stranger in his house? Completely unaware of Alessandro’s inner turmoil, Niccolo smiled fondly at his lover. “That’s a wonderful idea,” he said.
After Michele had left, Alessandro was left alone with Niccolo. The latter had informed him that his parents were out for the day and had left them with complete and utter privacy.
“It was my idea,” Niccolo told Alessandro as they roamed the grounds at the back of his house. “I asked Michele if he’d be open to. . .bringing someone else into our relationship. And he said yes.” Niccolo reached up to card his hand through his hair and Alessandro noticed the large, golden signet ring that sat at the base of one of his fingers. “I’m glad he agreed.”
Day had been, Alessandro realised, about building trust. Thus far, Michele had proven himself to be kind and patient. Now, Niccolo was doing the same. He had been asked about a variety of topics: school, interests, foods he hated, but nothing so far that had edged into sexual territory. But it had been rather pleasant, definitely more so than Alessandro had expected. His anxiety had, over the course of the day, bled into trust. Not deep trust, but trust nonetheless.
After dinner, which was a rather delectable meal the Niccolo himself had cooked, Alessandro was quite ready to leave. But as he helped to wash the dishes, Niccolo circled an arm around his waist a rested his chin on his shoulder, his hot breath fanning over Alessandro`s ear as he whispered to him. “Michele called me this morning.”
Alessandro flushed, hot water running over his fingers. “What did he tell you?”
“That you and he had some fun last night.”
Alessandro’s breath hitched, and Niccolo planted a soft kiss on his neck.
:I thought. . .maybe. . .” Niccolo continued, peppering his neck with more kisses, “that we could have some fun, too.” Niccolo drew back. “Nothing you’re uncomfortable with, of course.”
So Niccolo had been made aware of Alessandro’s apprehension. Alessandro shouldn’t have been surprised but he was. Michele was a careful lover. Kind, caring. He should have known that Niccolo was the same.
Though his heart was thudding against his ribcage, Alessandro turned the water off and spun in Niccolo’s arms. His own came up to loop around Niccolo’s neck. Niccolo leaned in, kissing him deeply.
“That’s a yes, then?” Niccolo mumbled against his lips.
Alessandro nodded. Niccolo takes them to his bedroom.
* * *
Three weeks later, Alessandro still hadn’t engaged in intercrural intercourse. The thought of it scared him, but it also summoned a deep and primal desire in him, too. So far, the three of them had stuck to oral stimulation. Michele and Niccolo had always been the ones to initiate it, but Alessandro found that he had no objection to participating. Sometimes, Michele would simply snag Alessandro into a bedroom and drop to his knees for him. Other times, late at night, Niccolo would enter his room, erection straining in his pants, and ask if Alessandro would do him the honor of pleasuring him. Alessandro quite enjoyed the mutuality of it, the pleasure for pleasure. More than once, his new lovers had told him that he was fitting perfectly in his new role, that he was a natural. Alessandro was always eager for their praise.
Arturo Scarselli, the patriarch of the family, was not home very much. That left Isabella. Michele’s mother had proven herself in many ways: she had been diplomatic on the day of their meeting, understanding on the day of Alessandro’s arrival, and above all, observant. Unlike many people, she was very capable of reading between the lines, sensing and identifying Alessandro’s discomfort and anxiety for what they were.
Isabella had sat Alessandro down one day. She was almost like a second mother in the way that she was stern and firm but still kept an eye out for him. “You don’t let them do anything you don’t want them to, you understand?” she had told him. “I know you did this for your family, but you don’t let Michele and Niccolo walk all over you because of it.”
Alessandro knew very well that neither of his lovers would exploit him. Nonetheless, he was grateful for Isabella’s words.
Time began to pass more easily. Alessandro’s sexual encounters grew frequent, though still at a pace he was comfortable with. Between those encounters, however, feelings began to develop. They were small, but Alessandro didn’t know if he could stamp them out, keep them from blooming every time he saw the corners of Niccolo’s eyes crinkle as he smiled, or the tug at the corner of Michele’s mouth when he was trying particularly hard to suppress laughter. It was confusing, to say the least.
A few weeks later, Alessandro came down for breakfast only to find his mother already seated at the table. She smiled at him over the rim of her tea cup, eyes alight with being able to see her son again.
“Mamma,” Alessandro exclaimed.
Teodora set her cup down and rose, arms held out. Alessandro fell into them, pressing his face into his mother’s neck. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed her until he felt the warmth of her familiar embrace wrap around him.
When they disentangled themselves, Teodora sat down. “How are you?” she asked carefully.
Overcoming his surprise, Alessandro smiled. “I’m well, Mamma.” He moved around the kitchen, putting together breakfast for him before sitting down with his mother. “Why did you come?”
Teodora shrugged, studying her son’s face. “I wanted to see how you were.”
“You could have called.”
“I wanted to see how you were.” She smiled softly. “You do look well.”
“I feel well,” Alessandro replied, taking a bite of his food.
“Have you been doing things with them?
“Here and there.” It was almost the truth. “They’re good to me, Mamma. They listen to me when I say no, they’ve taken care of me. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“That’s good,” Theodora replied. “Are you looking forward to classes?”
“Sì!” Alessandro cried. “You have no idea. I’ve been waiting for so long. It’s almost boring to be cooped up in here. Not that it isn’t fun spending time with everyone here but. . .” Alessandro kept talking, animatedly explaining to his mother just how eager her was to get on with that part of his life.
They talked for a long time. Alessandro somehow managed to pry the details of his mother’s life from her. Yes, she was well. Yes, his father was well. Yes, their finances were well. Yes, she had gotten that dress she had been eyeing at the shops many months ago.
When it came time for Teodora to go, she places a tender hand on her son’s forearm. “I wanted to apologise to you,” she said, her voice more vulnerable that Alessandro had ever heard it.
Her statement was confusing. “Why?” Alessandro asked.
“It’s not fair to you. . .it’s not fair that we pushed this on you to keep ourselves going.”
It clicked. His mother was apologising for the arrangement. “Don’t apologise,” he told her earnestly. “If this is what we have to do, this is what we have to do. And besides, it’s not so bad here. It’s not bad at all. I’m cared for here. It’s a win-win situation
, Mamma. Please don’t be sorry.”
Teodora nodded, and Alessandro escorted her to the door. With a peck on either of his cheeks, she gave him one last smile and left.
THREE
The day following his mother’s visit, Alessandro was taken into town by Michele and Niccolo. With their arms took through both of his, they weaved through the crowds of the city centre, spoiling him with clothes and treats. Alessandro’s new lovers pulled him into alleys or into small nooks between shops, pinning him against walls and stealing kisses, and once, even boldly rubbing against his crotch and leaving him achingly hard until he could go to a toilet and take care of himself.
The day had ended with the three of them stumbling into the Scarsellis’ house with Niccolo on Alessandro’s mouth and Michele on Alessandro’s lips.
The kiss was messy and wet as they staggered up the stairs and into Michele’s bedroom. Somebody—Alessandro couldn’t tell who—pushed him backwards onto the bed, knocking his breath out of him. Niccolo was upon him in an instant, rubbing their groins together as they resumed their sloppy kiss, noses bumping and teeth nipping. Alessandro moaned into the kiss.
Michele’s movements had never been hasty before. But as he undid Alessandro’s button-down shirt to tweak his nipples, Alessandro could feel desire coming off of him in waves and he broke his kiss with Niccolo, grasped the fabric of Michele’s shirt, and hauled him closer, crushing their lips together in a heated kiss. Niccolo stayed on top of him, head tipped back as he ground their erections together.
For a single moment, Michele disconnected their lips. When he reconnected them, he was undressed save for his briefs. As he kissed him back, Alessandro reached out blindly, groping the front of Niccolo’s pants. He slipped his hand into his waistband and drew out his erection. He wasted no time in teasing, knowing it would not be appreciated in a heated moment like this. Sill kissing Michele, he began to pump Niccolo’s.
Niccolo’s moans were beautiful and filthy as he continued rocking his ass back and forth over Alessandro’s clothed groin. With his other hand, Alessandro freed his other lover’s erection from its fabric cage. It stood up straight and flushed and wet. Alessandro wrapped his hand around. He moved his hands up and down in synchrony, drawing long, hot moans from both of his lovers.
Niccolo stilled and moved back. Alessandro nearly whined at the loss of stimulation but before he could, his own cock was out of his pants. Which was much better than being rubbed through his clothes.
Alessandro had learn to warn his lovers of his climax, and his lovers had learned Alessandro’s tells. His hands tightened just slightly on them and he opened his mouth to tell them but as soon as he did, Niccolo’s flung his hand back. Alessandro could have cried at the way his orgasm receded. In retaliation, his own hands ceased to move.
“Do you think,” Niccolo started hesitantly, “we should try something new?”
Alessandro considered it. It had been months since his very first sexual experience with Michele. He was ready, now. He wanted more—needed more. Even if it weren’t part of their arrangement, Alessandro would still want to. So he nodded without a trace of doubt.
The next few moments were spent shedding the rest of their clothes.
“Bottom of top?” Michele breathed.
Alessandro didn’t need clarification. Without realising it, he had been yearning for this to happen. “Bottom,” he replied.
Alessandro kneeled on all fours facing the foot of the bed, where Niccolo kneeled before him. Behind him, Michele drizzled some type of lubricant into the cleft of his ass. Oil, Alessandro surmised. Somebody had once told him that oil corroded condoms but then again, with all the oral the three of them had done, the time for using condoms had long passed.
A finger prodded Alessandro’s entrance. It was wet, but it burned nonetheless as it entered him. When the second finger came, Niccolo poked Alessandro’s lips with his erection, providing a welcome distraction. As he was scissored open and entered by a third and fourth finger, he ignored the discomfort, focusing his attention on the man before him.
The fingers inside Alessandro withdrew. Despite the discomfort they had caused earlier, Alessandro missed their presence. From behind him, Michele piped up, “Do you think you’re ready now?”
Alessandro opened his mouth and Niccolo’s cock fell from it. “Sì,” he said, repressing his desperation.
Slowly, almost achingly so, the tip of Michele’s erection poked into him. It was lubricated, and that, coupled with the stretching from Michele’s fingers made the pain nearly nonexistent. Still, he took Niccolo in his mouth again.
Michele pressed in slowly. Once he was seated to the hilt, he drew back, then thrusted smoothly back in. He established a rhythm, hands on Alessandro’s hips, rocking them together.
Alessandro found that didn’t need to bob his head. Michele was doing the work for him. WIth every snap of his hips, Michele pushed Niccolo deeper into Alessandro’s mouth. All Alessandro had to do was keep his teeth from grazing it.
The friction was delicious. He could barely concentrate as Michele glided in and out of him, the tip of him striking a spot within him that made his entire body erupt with pleasure.
Niccolo’s hands were gripping his hair so tightly that it was painful but Alessandro was relishing in it. He looked up. There was only pleasure written over Niccolo’s face. His eyes were clenched tightly, his mouth slack, obscene moans falling from his obscene lips.
It was too much with Michele’s hand moved from his waist to his cock, pumping it in tandem with his thrusts. It wasn’t long before he began to feel the familiar shivers racking him. His body locked up, and he had only the presence of mind to shout Michele’s name before he was shooting hot spurts of come over the sheets. His mind went blank as pleasure took him. Absently, he noticed Michele’s thrusts becoming sloppier, and Niccolo pulsing in his mouth, a bitter taste washing over his tongue.
When he came down from his high, Alessandro could feel Michele slipping out of him, and a hot liquid oozing down his thigh. He reached down between his legs, swiping some up with his fingers, and smearing it over his mouth. He held eye contact with Niccolo, licking his lips clean.
Niccolo whimpered and bit his lip, trying to suppress his arousal.
Finally, Alessandro sat back on his haunches, wiping his mouth. Michele sat next to him, and Niccolo came to his other side, perched on the edge of the bed.
“Was that good?” Michele asked.
Alessandro dropped a kiss to his shoulder. “It was good.”
FOUR
The weeks following their first time had been hectic. Between more sexual encounters, during which Niccolo had taken his turn at Michele’s position, and Alessandro had had Michele bouncing up and down on him, he had begun his preparations for college. Between the frequent sex, the days out together, and gearing up for school, things had been busy in a way that they hadn’t been for a long time.
With every interaction that Alessandro had had with his lovers, the feelings he harboured grew. With every passing day, the nature of their arrangement drew further and further into the recesses of his mind. The way things were with them were. . .amazing. It was almost like being with them—the sex, the feelings (though they were unreturned), the dates. Whatever it was, Alessandro was happy with it.
Alessandro had lived in this city for his entire life. He had left it before, but had never strayed beyond the borders of the region of Tuscany. But this city. . .he had never cared to wander it. But with Niccolo and Michele, both experts in the realm of navigation, Alessandro had seen more of his own city on these dates than he ever had in the first eighteen years of his life.
Their relationship had been running smoothly. They had a date planned for the following day. That night, they had collapsed atop each other with their limbs tangled together, Alessandro lay awake long after Michele and Niccolo’s pants had dissolved into snores. He was excited, he decided as he stroked Michele’s smooth back with his knuckles.
W
hen Alessandro finally drifted off after Niccolo had, in his sleep, tucked him under his arm, the sun was already rising.
It was a long drive to the beach. Alessandro had fallen asleep in the back of Michele’s car for the whole ride, not caring much that he was missing out on the scenery. He had never left the city before, but sleep was a priority. There was always the drive back, after all. Many hours later, Alessandro was shaken awake by a warm hand to the sound of rolling waves and laughing children.
The coastline itself was beautiful. The morning sky was a cloudless blue, and the water was calm and a deep turquoise, though Alessandro expected that the setting sun would turn the water into rippling fire. The area behind the beach had been piled high with white rock dotted with small, yellow flowers, and covered in moss and shrubbery.
To Love A Hitman Page 32