⚠️ TRIGGER / CONTENT WARNING
This chapter contains explicit sex scenes that may be inappropriate to some readers.
ON TERMINOLOGIES:
Meanings of words/phrases with a (*) can be found in the Glossary of Mafia-Related Terminology.
Chapter 2-3's Umore are:
♪ Passion by RAC, Louis the Child
♪ Let's Fall in Love for the Night by FINNEAS
♪ Second Best by Younger Hunger
Link to the Spotify playlist: https://tinyurl.com/yyj9cx5q
Half an hour went by, and then another. Time seemed to have no meaning when a man like Silvio Masconi holds Gianni with gentle roughness – if there was such a thing.
Or perhaps this was just another night of mindless fucking.
The Lone Wolf cursed himself for not being able to think straight. His brain turned to mush. Silvio's mouth, his kisses, his hands, his cock, were sending wild signals throughout his body. And when he came to, he found himself flat on his back and under Silvio, right on his bed. When the man had moved him from the couch, he really could not recall.
Gianni groaned in frustration as he wrapped his arms around Silvio's neck, his strong legs settling on the other's hips. His muscles tightened even more around Silvio, nearly strangling his length with the strength of his desire.
"Hey, are you with me now?" Silvio muttered, feeling the other's wetness increasing. "Should we stop?"
Gianni shook his head as he gave a little moan in the back of his throat. "No. Keep... Keep going."
Once again, the Lone Wolf was set ablaze. And the more Silvio pumped him, the more he needed him.
The made-man moved with him in bruising thrusts, meeting the other's hips as Gianni clawed at his shoulders and back. His moans and gasps filled Silvio's ears, making him harder, urging him to ram himself as deep into the man's heated core as he could.
He ran his tongue over the skin behind Gianni's ear. "I'm – I'm about to come."
Gianni responded with a soft moan, twitching his muscles around the other's hard flesh.
Silvio grunted. "Ah, fuck." He pulled out of Gianni as he squirted thick, white mess onto the other's thighs, groaning as it exploded from him hot and wet, all over Gianni.
Gianni looked at him languorously, watching Silvio pump himself, squeezing every last drop of his release.
"Hey... you can always come inside me," he said pensively. He put his hands on the made-man's hips, pulling him closer. "You can't possibly get me pregnant, Mr. Beta. What's there to worry about?"
The Lone Wolf's words were like a knife stabbing into his chest. Sometimes, his words can be hurtful. But what makes things worse for Silvio, is that Gianni doesn't even realize how cruel his words can be.
Then again, he had no right to feel that way.
Frowning, he grabbed Gianni by his chin. "Just so you know, I already came inside you. Twice." With his arms, he pushed himself off the other and rolled over, laying down beside Gianni. "Take some morning-after pills at least. Even if I'm 'just a Beta', I can still get you knocked up. Can't be too careful now, can we?"
"What, are you mad at me?" Gianni propped himself up on one elbow and stared at Silvio, tracing a line down his spine with his fingernail. "Come back here. We're not done yet."
"I'm tired."
"I'm not."
Silvio hissed in frustration. "For Christ's sake, Gianni, we've been doing it your way long enough. I still need to drive back to Pennsylvania and –"
Gianni's hands reached out and grasped Silvio as he moved over him, straddling his lap. "I said we're not done yet." He braced his knees on the mattress on either side of Silvio's thighs, grinding his hips back and forth across the other's growing length. He gave a triumphant smile.
"One more for the road, baby."
Giovanni Mancuso was an itch Silvio Masconi couldn't scratch. Or perhaps he was one he couldn't scratch enough. And the closer he came to shattering, the more he knew he couldn't stop. As always, the made-man knew he won't be able to relieve the itch until he had Gianni again. Over and over. A dozen times. A hundred times even.
No. The Lone Wolf isn't just an itch. He's a fever. An infection. An illness Silvio can never be rid of because the man was implanted inside him the way he's implanting himself inside the other.
At some point, Silvio pushed Gianni onto the bed, lifted his feet, and hooked his heels behind his neck. Gianni braced himself as he grabbed the sheet underneath him, seeking more leverage as the other man drilled him hard and dirty.
Silvio gave him an anguished look. "Just what have you done to me?" He grasped the other's thighs as he bent over and pounded Gianni with wild abandon. For one full minute, the only sound in the room was their gasps for air, the steady creaking of the bed frame, and the sharp sound of flesh slapping sweaty flesh.
No, this wasn't a mindless fuck. This was a desperate fuck. An intense screwing to ease one's overwhelming hunger and the other's unquenched thirst.
"Silvio."
The made-man glanced down to see Gianni staring up at him. His eyes were languid yet weary; his body still quivering and squirming with need. The Lone Wolf was on the verge of coming again.
And Silvio was just as close. So fucking close. He dipped his hips and slid thickly into the Lone Wolf, right to the entrance of his womb. A single, hard, bruising thrust.
It was too much. Silvio lowered his face until his forehead touched the other's. He was nearing the edge.
"Gianni."
With his final ounce of strength, Silvio raised Gianni's hips and plunged into him again. Gianni threw his head back with a sharp cry, squeezing the life out of the other until he felt the man pumping hot and repeatedly into him. Silvio let out a growl as his orgasm shot out of him.
And then, his mind became a total blank. There was no other feeling in his body other than the pure delight of spilling more of his seed inside Gianni.
A warm hand reached up to touch Silvio's cheek as he slowly slid down and leaned over the other. Gianni's muscles gradually released their tight hold on the other's softening member. Silvio didn't pull out of him as much as he eased out. Slowly, he became aware of Gianni lowering his legs to rest them on either side of him.
Gasping for breath, the made-man turned to his side, scooping Gianni into his arms as he settled back into the mattress. They lay like that for a while, catching their breath, feeling the other's presence. Besides their quiet gasps and pants, the only other noise was the soft, whirring sound of the air conditioner. The air was still thick with Gianni's pheromones, mingling with the smell of sex.
"Silvio." The Lone Wolf's voice was drowsy, right on the edge of exhaustion and sleep.
"What, Gianni?"
The two shared a long gaze before Gianni lowered his head to rest on the other's shoulder. "Thanks."
Silvio let out a soft sigh as he rested his chin on top of Gianni's head. He was utterly lost for words.
Right. Thanks. Thanks for the mind-blowing sex, Mr. Masconi. Now our business is done here.
Silvio closed his eyes for a moment. He was completely drained. Having sex with Gianni was always a demanding experience, but one he knew he always wanted. And loved. And hated. All at the same time.
Somehow, he could easily find himself falling asleep next to the Lone Wolf. He enjoyed the feeling of the man's bare flesh against him. He loved his sweet and musky scent, even though it's driving him insane. He was sinewy and plump in all the right places. He loved the man's every swell and curve.
Best of all, Silvio enjoyed the rare moments he'd wake up in the morning to see Gianni sleeping soundly beside him. How delicate the Lone Wolf appeared in his sleep and yet he was a force to be reckoned with.
Truly, he enjoyed being with Giovanni Mancuso. This man who's more than a friend but less than a lover.
Half an hour later, Silvio glanced down at the man who lay next to him. He was sound asleep. Naked, vulnerable, and couldn't be bothered with the cold. Carefully, he eased himself out of Gianni's embrace and shifted into a sitting position, breathing deeply. He looked around for the covers, finding them and drawing them around Gianni.
As his gaze moved back to the Lone Wolf's sleeping form, his eyes darted toward the skin on his left wrist. It was crisscrossed with purplish keloid scars, twisting and thick like the roots of an oak tree. They looked to be old scars but they had been slashed so deeply, they still appeared raw.
Silvio's heart skipped a beat as he lifted his eyes to Gianni's face. He clenched his teeth. This was the first time he had noticed those scars. And then, a wave of hurt and frustration enveloped him.
Even after two years, the Lone Wolf was still an enigma.
Gianni knew things about Silvio Masconi. That he's a made-man on his way to becoming Capo. That he wasn't originally from New York, and that his mother and elder brother were his closest family relations.
When there's still time and energy left, the two men would indulge in pillow talk after sex. Silvio would tell the other random things about himself. Things that would otherwise get a mafioso into trouble had he divulged them to the wrong person.
But Gianni... The man was always a good listener but wasn't much of a talker in general. All Silvio knew was that he used to be a mafioso himself and for some unfathomable reason, managed to get himself out in one piece. He had been trained as a killer, whether by himself or by an expert Silvio didn't know. The Lone Wolf didn't talk much about his associate runs, either. He liked his knives and firearms, that's for sure, because they're the only thing that could get him talking.
The made-man pondered just how much he knew the Lone Wolf but only ended up disappointing himself in the process. His heart sank. He realized just how clueless he was about Gianni's personal life. Talking about himself seemed like an unspoken taboo between them.
Sure. Silvio knew the man's tastes and interests. He knew his face, his eyes, his hair, his hands. Better than all the rest, he knew his body. He knew it very well, intimately. Better than he'd known any other body – perhaps even better than he knew his own.
Yet he knew Gianni only as far as a wanton man should know his fuck buddy.
They weren't in a relationship. Gianni made it clear from the start he wasn't interested in anything more than a good time. And only when he's in heat.
"Don't get sappy on me or we'll have to end it," Gianni once told Silvio. It was their number one rule, and it's the last thing Silvio ever wanted to violate.
It was just supposed to be a one-time thing but for some reason, he got in too deep. Way too deep.
The sting of a fling, as he bitterly calls it.
Silvio drew the blanket over Gianni and lay back down beside him, gazing at his sleeping face for a moment. He looked at peace. Not a line or mark marred the face of this troubled, enigmatic beauty.
Silvio leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly on the other's forehead.
"You're so damn unfair, Giovanni Mancuso," he whispered before drifting off to sleep.
It was just past dawn when Silvio woke up in a panic. He glanced at the clock at the nightstand, which read 6:05 AM.
"Shit... Shit, shit, shit," he cursed under his breath as he rose and sat on the edge of the bed. He needed to be in Pennsylvania before lunch. If he leaves now, he'd arrive there on time without trouble.
He glanced over his shoulder, to the man who lay asleep on the bed, listening for a moment to the sound of his gentle snoring. Gianni lay on his stomach, his legs and firm buttocks exposed. Silvio's body stirred, the man's nakedness reminding him of the passion they shared just a few hours before.
He heaved a deep sigh as he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. He needed to leave but first, he had to wash Gianni's pheromones off him. The man's scent alone made him act irrationally. He slipped from the bed as gingerly as he could, then headed to the bathroom.
Feeling more lucid now, Silvio's face flushed with shame and embarrassment.
It was so good. So fucking good. Perhaps the best so far.
He was still exhausted but in a completely, I've-been-fucked-senseless kind of way. The Lone Wolf ravished him and he enjoyed every second of it. He held on for dear life, and Gianni met him stroke for stroke until he felt the pleasure would never end.
But it had. As always.
Silvio turned the shower to cool himself off, getting rid of the heat and the scent that made him ache for the other.
When he stepped back into the bedroom and looked in the mirror, he realized that his shirt was damp after Gianni had tossed it on the wet floor the night before. He pulled out a drawer, took out a clean black shirt, and dressed quietly.
"Gi..." he said softly. No reply. "Hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt."
Gianni stirred in his sleep but surprisingly didn't wake up. The man was more exhausted than he ever cared to admit.
Silvio had no idea when he'd see the Lone Wolf again. Perhaps after another couple of months. Probably even longer. Maybe on his next heat. The only time the man ever needs him.
Carefully donning his leather jacket, Silvio leaned against Gianni's ear. "Your personal whore's leaving now, Mr. Mancuso," he whispered, voice tinged with sarcasm. "Call me if you need me."
The made-man left the room as carefully and silently as he had come.
TO BE CONTINUED.
