EMILIO'S POV
Emilio's face drifted closer, hovering over Dante's lips, breath mingling—but Dante turned his head, avoiding his lips.
Undeterred, Emilio slid down to his neck, pressing his mouth there instead, with his tongue he licked lower, slower, letting his tongue trail Dante's skin with lazy hunger.
It tasted like skin.
Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, or maybe it was something darker, deeper—but tonight, Emilio was bold. Bolder than he'd ever let himself be.
Then he leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of Dante's ear, his hands still carefully stroking Dante's cock. "You're so sexy. Your cock so fucking sexy that I want to choke on it"
Dante's back arched off the couch, hands fisting into the cushions like he needed something to hold onto. A rough sound tore from his throat, half a moan, half a gasp.
His eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched like he was trying to hold himself together—but failing.
"Don't—" he rasped, voice cracking, "don't say shit like that."
Because the way he was trembling underneath said it wasn't just words to him—it was unraveling him completely.
Emilio ignored the warning, his eyes dark with something heady and electric. He slid his hands under Dante, guiding him down, forcing him to lay flat on the couch.
Dante didn't fight it.
He moved like he weighed nothing like resistance had melted out of him the second Emilio's mouth touched his neck. His body sank into the cushions, pliant and breathless, eyes heavy with something raw.
Emilio sprawled on top of Dante, his body draped over him but not fully pressing down. His knees straddled Dante's legs, one hand braced beside his head while the other slid down his chest. He leaned in
He didn't understand it—why Dante would tell him to stop one moment, only to pull him closer the next. Why his mouth said no, but his body, his breath, the way his fingers curled into Emilio's shirt... said everything else.
Dante's eyes were locked onto his now, dark and glassy, completely caught up in whatever this was—whatever they were doing.
"Should I stop?" Emilio asked, voice low, teasing but unsure.
Dante didn't answer at first. His jaw clenched. His chest rose and fell too fast.
"Should I?" Emilio pressed again, this time softer, more intimate, almost daring him.
"No," Dante snapped, the word harsh and fast like it burned in his throat.
And in that moment, Emilio knew—Dante wanted to stop. He really did. But he couldn't. He was too far gone. Too into it. Too into him.
Emilio's mouth lowered to Dante's chest, his tongue trailing his chest down to his nipples, he licked and swallowed both nipples, his tongue slid down to his stomach, sucked his belly button, and down to his cock.
Emilio slid his tongue out, his gaze never leaving Dante. Dante's gaze met Emilio's, but it looked like he didn't want to hold it.
Emilio's tongue trailed the tips of Dante's cock. The motion was deliberate, watching every reaction with a predatory focus as if savoring the way Dante lost control,
"Fuck..." Dante breathed out, voice breaking, his body trembling.
And that reaction from Dante swelled Emilio's cock harder. He swallowed Dante's cock and held it deep in his throat.
Dante's breath came in ragged bursts, each one desperate, barely contained. Dante shifted restlessly, fingers digging into his hair, his body trembling with frustration.
Emilio could see it in his eyes—the hunger, the desperate need for more than Dante couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried. He was edging closer to losing control, his restraint slipping with every passing second
Emilio pulled his mouth away from Dante's cock with a wet, sloppy sound that made Dante suck in a breath, a low hiss escaping him.
"Why did you stop?"Dante's voice came out low, strained, almost a growl.
"I want more," Emilio said, his voice sharp and commanding, leaving no space for hesitation or doubt.
In the next breath, Emilio yanked off his shorts and was on top of Dante, straddling him, his ass stark naked, and pressing down hard on Dante's thighs.
"Fuck, what are you doing?" Dante gasped, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and disbelief.
But Emilio didn't respond, Emilio's hand slid to Dante's neck, tightening in a firm chokehold, his
his focus entirely on Dante's cock, he picked it up, his movements swift, and spat into his other palm and stroke it.
"Please don't do this," Dante pleaded, the realization of what Emilio wanted to do flashing across his face.
But Emilio didn't mind. He leaned closer, to Dante's slippery cock, and slipped it gently into his hole. His hole was tight, but he spat in his hand, and with the saliva, he slipped it in till he felt the hardened cock filling his hole.
"Ah, oh God," Dante cried out, the sound torn from him.
Emilio's whole body trembled as he sat there wanting to get used to Dante's size. The pain made him whimper.
"How can we move like this?" Dante said through his ragged breath.
Emilio pulled out a little and pushed back to prove Dante's words. He moaned, the realization hitting him hard in his drunken state—this was exactly what he wanted, Dante's hard cock filling him up.
"Fuck," Dante groaned, reaching to grip Emilio's waist, trying to steady himself.
Emilio repeated the push-and-pull motion, grinding himself on Dante's cock. "Ah". The motion fucking painful.
But Dante's hands were impatient as they gripped Emilio's ass pulling him closer, urgency in every movement, thrusting his cock deeply into him and pulling out, Moaning loudly, his voice filled the room, raw and desperate.
" Ah yes," Emilio moaned, not from pain, but because Dante's cock was hitting somewhere that overwhelmed his senses.
Even if Dante wasn't skilled in blowjobs but in pounding his cock, he was something else entirely. Wild, experienced, and dangerously good.
His threw grew more savage and heated, each breath tearing from him in heavy, ragged pants.
He caught Dante's low, restrained groan—barely suppressed, rough around the edges, and then his release came splashing in his hole.
Emilio's jaw clenched and he poured his release on Dante's stomach.
The both of them sat there, breathing hard in silence—each second stretching, thick with unsaid words and the weight of what might come next.