by Bethany-Kris
And he noticed everything.
Things that made Alessio uniquely him.
Things Corrado liked.
He wanted to be pissed. It was easier for him to deal with Alessio and the shit he felt when the other man was around when his anger was present because that took over everything else first, and nothing else mattered.
Things weren’t so confusing.
But it was.
Alessio made it confusing.
“That kind of help doesn’t help,” Corrado said.
“Or you got in your feelings because it was me.”
“No—”
“I think that’s exactly what happened.”
“I think you don’t listen as well as you talk.”
Alessio blinked.
Corrado stood firm.
“If you want to help, that isn’t the way you do it,” Corrado said, reaching up to poke Alessio right in the middle of his chest hard enough that it moved him a bit. Slightly, and not much, but it still did. “Do you hear me?”
Alessio’s gaze blazed with fury … and something else entirely. “Don’t put your hands on me unless you plan to use them in a way I’ll like. Do you hear me?”
He hesitated, then, his mind snapping back to earlier. To important words, and a lesson he hadn’t thought about, really.
Fists cannot teach affection.
Here, at The League, fists taught a lot. Violence kept them in line, and made sure they understood exactly what was expected of them. And yet, it had been made explicitly clear, even if the words hadn’t been told to him directly, that between Corrado and Alessio … violence should never be the first default.
Ever.
He didn’t understand this thing happening between him and Alessio. Sometimes, it made him infuriated. Sometimes, he was drawn in again just because. It left him a mess, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to.
It didn’t matter, though.
Something was happening.
He had to be mindful.
Corrado dropped his hand instantly. “Sorry.”
“Good. And don’t do it again.”
“Same for you, then.”
“Is that really a fucking problem for you?”
Corrado let out a hard breath, and it ached the whole way out. “Yeah, man, it is. It doesn’t help me here, and if you gave a shit, you’d realize that.”
It took a second.
Then, two.
Alessio’s stance softened. “I do … know that, I mean. I didn’t think.”
“Try.”
In a blink, Alessio’s defensiveness was back. His gaze narrowed. “Is that what you want to do right now—fight because you’ve got a problem with your fucking pride? Didn’t you get enough of that with Oliver beating the hell out of you all day?”
Corrado’s fists flexed, but not because he wanted to hit Alessio. More because he was still quite aware of just how close the two were together, and no … he didn’t want to fight at all.
“No, I don’t.”
“Don’t, what?”
“Want to fight.”
He didn’t mean for his voice to roughen like that—to come out husky, and thick, but it still did. There was no mistaking what that meant.
Alessio swallowed hard, his gaze darting to Corrado’s mouth before coming back up to meet his stare. “All you gotta do is say, Corrado. If you want something, then you say it.”
Yeah, okay.
“I don’t want to fi—”
He didn’t even get to finish. Alessio caught that hand of his, and curled it in his own before his other came up to grab Corrado by his jaw. Fingers dug into his skin in the best way a split second before Alessio’s mouth collided with his. The force of the kiss pushed him back against the wall, but not once did Alessio let him go.
Not once did he back off.
Corrado didn’t want him to, anyway. Not when Alessio’s hand let his go so that he could shove his under the waistband of his shorts to find his cock. Tight, fast strokes had his dick hardening quickly as Alessio’s teeth dragged across his lower lip. And then that hand was gone from his shorts, replaced instead by Alessio’s body pressing into his—the hard ridge of his erection grinding against Corrado’s while the wall kept him steady when he felt like he might fucking fall.
He couldn’t think to stand right then.
He didn’t trust himself.
“The door,” Corrado heard himself mutter when that kiss drifted down to the line of his jaw, and then lower still to where his pulse raced in his throat. “The fucking door.”
“Close it.”
The words were grunted against his skin—hard, and hot. The sound alone hit a spot inside that he didn’t fucking know existed until that moment. A place that felt raw, and primal. Sex had always been fulfilling a need for Corrado, something he did because it felt good, and he wanted to. This right here, with Alessio …
Well, it felt like that first kiss had.
Like war.
With hands pulling roughly at clothes to get them off. Mouths that said very little, but couldn’t stop seeking the other’s out. Couldn’t stop tasting and biting and learning. Skin rough from two-day stubble.
And then, when clothes were gone, and Alessio was on his knees, reaching for Corrado’s cock, he tipped his head back and let out a hard groan. He felt the warm air hit the head of his dick a second before Alessio had him in his mouth, taking him down to the base, and coming up tight around his head with each suck.
He’d blow his load like that.
Just like that.
Seeing him on his knees like that?
Taking him like that?
Yeah.
And then Alessio had to go and fucking stun him—letting him go altogether, and standing fast to crash his mouth against Corrado’s. He had to know, then, how fucking hard was he for him? Did his cock feel like it was aching as badly as his was?
Corrado stared down between them, reaching for the man’s cock. Alessio’s lips drifted over the side of his cheek as he watched while he stroked him in his hand. Hard, tight strokes that had Alessio cursing against his cheek in heavy exhales.
Tight against the head.
Looser at the base.
“Gonna make me come if you—”
“Nah,” Corrado replied, letting Alessio go altogether, and pushing a hand against his chest to move him back a step. “Not like that—not yet.” One step turned into two, and then three. Alessio didn’t drop his stare, hands shaking at his sides. Corrado got that; he understood why when his own body vibrated too. With need—for whatever this was. “Is this what you—”
“Yeah, I want that,” Alessio murmured. “You.”
“I need—”
Alessio tipped his head to the side. “Nightstand.”
He didn’t even have to get the words out entirely, Alessio just knew, and for some reason … the fact that the man wanted it that bad, that he wanted to be the one fucked, made the anticipation thrum deeper inside of Corrado. Until all he could feel was the bass of his heart thrumming right along with it.
Fuck.
Yet, Alessio didn’t move as Corrado crossed the space to open the small drawer attached to the nightstand. He stayed standing even as Corrado pulled the items—condom, lube—out before dropping them to the sheets.
He met Alessio’s stare as he stood straight again, inching in closer until their chests touched. It was in his eyes that he found the truth reflecting back to him—the truth that yes, what he wanted was to be the one beneath the other, he still had fight there. A battle that said he wanted to win, to control, to fuck. That same war Corrado found in their kiss, and their touches.
The roughness that spoke of a man, and who liked that, too.
Because that was the difference between men and women. In sex, women could be rough, and they could make it hurt, but those were far and few between. Sex, with women, he always found was soft, no matter how rough. Something that fulfilled an entirely different need for sex
with him.
Men were not the same—that attraction, for Corrado, were two entirely different things. He wouldn’t be so arrogant to say every bi or gay man felt that way, or perceived it the same as he did, but that’s how he always found it to be. And right then, he was seeing the same thing in Alessio.
That fight.
This time, he’d give it.
Give in.
Next time was a whole other story, though.
So, Corrado gave him what he wanted. If he wanted roughness like he wanted the fight, then he could have that. He slammed a bruising kiss to Alessio’s mouth as his hand wrapped around the front of his throat. Lips dragged over his savagely, determined to take the very breath out of him as he took Alessio down to the bed.
Hard bodies met, grinding as the two pulled harshly at what little clothes remained between them. Corrado didn’t remember when that last piece of clothing hit the floor—when it was just warm skin and muscle meeting his, but there it was.
He felt Alessio’s cock, already hard, slide against his own. Their hips moving in rhythm together to get that sensation, fast and desperate, he thought. That’s what was thrumming through his bloodstream with his heart now.
Desperation.
“Fuck, yeah,” Alessio groaned, mouth falling away from his.
Corrado’s hand shoved between their bodies to get his hand where he needed it the most. He only leaned up just long enough to grab that bottle of lube before he popped the top open, and got the cool gel piled on his fingertips. He didn’t keep the bottle, tossing it aside so he could get his hand back on Alessio’s throat while his other started to work.
His fingertips pressed against the tight ring of Alessio’s ass. Just two, at first, working in with slow, twisting strokes. His fingers curved tighter around Alessio’s throat as the man let out another one of those sounds.
Those groans.
And fuck, his moans.
His moans.
He was so fucking glad he wasn’t new to this—himself, and Alessio. Learning sex was fucking messy, and this wasn’t that at all. Not that he’d known that before this started, but he’d assumed. He knew he was right just by the way Alessio moved under him and asked for more. Any hesitations he had now were gone for sure.
“Christ,” Alessio hissed when Corrado had two fingers stretching the man out.
Stormy blue met raging brown when Alessio’s eyes lifted to meet his. And as much as he liked hearing those sounds, he wanted to taste them when they came out of the man. He got the heat of Alessio’s mouth against his as he worked that third finger into his ass as his palm flexed against his throat.
Alessio’s hands left the fisted sheets to grab onto Corrado’s wrists. He could feel it, the push and pull of his hold on Corrado, the way he wanted to keep him right there, but push him back, too.
That fight …
Against Corrado’s roughness.
That’s what he wanted.
He pulled his slick hand from Alessio and let go of his throat, too. Those fingers digging into the skin of his wrist hard enough to bruise loosened, and in a breath, Corrado had Alessio twisted around to his stomach on the bed. His teeth found the hard muscles of Alessio’s back as he snatched up the packet on the bed. He made quick work of getting the condom open, and sliding it down. The lube on his fingers already soaking his length.
And fuck, he felt painful.
Throbbing and aching.
He stroked his dick, getting that lube all over as his mouth found Alessio’s back again. The man pushed up against him, seeking more. His hands fisted into the sheets on the bed as Corrado fit the head of his cock against Alessio’s ass.
He’d stretched him.
And he was still tight enough to hurt.
Alessio let out a shuddering breath, and Corrado slowed. He didn’t need to hear his words to know—easy, easy. So, that’s what he did, careful and fucking slow. Until his chest was so tight from holding back that it hurt, too. It was only when he was halfway to nine inches deep that he heard Alessio’s voice, husky and deep.
“Fuck, yeah.”
Corrado swore those two words rumbled along the bed, reaching his spot like a shot of heat right to his marrow. One hand splayed to Alessio’s back, his other grabbing tight to the man’s side.
It was only once he was seated entirely inside Alessio that he felt like he could take in a breath again. Still ragged and aching, though. His chest still felt too damn tight, and it wasn’t going to get better until—
“Fucking make me come,” Alessio murmured.
That.
Until that.
His hips pulled back from Alessio slightly faster than he’d worked his way in, and then flexed forward faster again. The rhythm became a little rougher with each push and pull. Alessio found Corrado’s hand at his side, and yanked it under him.
He used Corrado’s hand to tug at his cock, his own being the one that worked him. He used him to get himself off, while Corrado used him to do the same.
“Shit, shit,” Corrado heard himself mumble.
He couldn’t remember sex being so quiet. And he didn’t want to remember it differently now.
So fucking intense.
Like it had turned into something else—something raw, a need that just had to be filled, and now. But God, where had this been?
His next thrust came harder, and Alessio let out a sound that felt primal. “Right there.”
Alessio’s back tensed. His fingers around Corrado’s tightened, and pulled at his hand to work his length faster.
That sound came out of him again as warm cum hit Corrado’s fingertips. “Jesus, Corrado.”
He hadn’t realized his own orgasm was so close until Alessio swore again, and his ass tightened around Corrado as he kept up his pace. But there it was, and he leaned down to splay his palm against Alessio’s back, his teeth biting into warm skin as he came, too.
So fucking deep.
He couldn’t speak.
Didn’t want to.
Alessio let out a slow exhale. “What the fuck was that?”
Oh, fucking great.
So it hadn’t just been him that this felt new for.
“Something good,” Corrado mumbled against his skin.
“Yeah.”
As the shaking started to wane, his mouth trailed higher over Alessio’s back. His teeth found the junction of Alessio’s shoulder and neck, biting just hard enough for him to react. And he did—his semi-hard dick jerking in Corrado’s hand. He tightened his grip just to let the man know he felt that, too.
“Fuck,” Alessio mumbled. “Easy.”
Corrado laughed. “Now, you want easy?”
“And?” Then, quieter, Alessio added, “I know I fucked up earlier … I didn’t think because I didn’t like seeing it—him taunting you when you were already down. So, I reacted.”
Clearing his throat, Corrado pulled himself carefully from Alessio before rolling to his side on the double bed. Using his arms as a pillow, he stared hard at the ceiling for a while, saying nothing. He heard what Alessio told him; he understood it was important. Sometimes, things people said didn’t seem all that deep on the surface, but it was the shit they didn’t say that mattered the most.
He figured with this … the things Alessio said and didn’t say were both equally important, and he needed to keep the fuck up.
Glancing over at his companion in the bed, Corrado replied, “I get it—you can’t do it again, though.”
Alessio, still on his stomach with his hands twisting into the edge of the comforter, curled his upper lip like the idea offended him. “What, protect you?”
Corrado frowned.
Was that what he’d thought he did?
“I don’t think I can do that,” Alessio said after a beat of silence passed between them. “But I’m not really sorry about it.”
Yeah.
“What do you think he said?” Chris asked, his sarcasm heavy. “It’s Cree, you figure it out.”
&
nbsp; “So, he basically told you no, but spouted some Yoda bullshit while he was at it.”
“Yeah, and—”
“You didn’t have to be here, though.” Corrado made a noise under his breath, adding, “We told you that, but you decided to stay. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“It’s not about being here.”
“I think it is.”
“Corrado—”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Chris. You chose to stay. This is what it means.”
Chris made a disgusted sound. “Fuck all of this.”
Something crashed against the floor—a metal ting ringing out—before a few seconds later, Chris came flying out of the room where he and Corrado had been working for a good portion of the afternoon. Alessio, leaning against the wall because he’d figured it was better not to interrupt the brothers and their work, avoided Chris’s gaze when he came storming out. Not that it made much of a difference, as he still saw the glare Chris threw his way before he passed him by without as much as a hello.
Alessio wasn’t offended.
He didn’t know much—if anything at all—about Corrado’s twin, and not really for a lack of interest. There simply wasn’t a lot of time here to bother with making friends. At least, not during that first year, unless someone was training you with a partner, or to be part of a team. Then, it was pertinent that you became friends with the person who you would be forced to trust with your life at one point or another.
It was strange, in a way, how he could easily pick out the differences between Chris and Corrado, and without much effort at all, too. But everyone else seemed more interested in finding all the things that made them exactly the same.
Alessio liked what made them unique.
He waited until Chris rounded the corner at the end of the corridor before he pushed away from the wall. Coming to stand in the doorway of the room where the two had been working, Alessio quickly found Corrado in the room.
Sitting at a large metal table, surrounded by dismantled pieces of several guns, Corrado stared hard at the wall, lost in his thoughts. His brow, dipped in concentration, knotted further before he shook his head. Still, he kept staring like he wasn’t willing to get back to work.
This was meant to be a fun task, too, for the most part. Or rather, something that most prospects enjoyed. Getting set in front of a mess of dismantled weapons and being told to figure out what went with what was a hell of a lot easier than getting the shit beat out of you in the gym, after all.