7. Tommaso #3
“You wanna touch me, pretty boy?” I ask, pulling back from the kiss breathlessly.
Aleksandr’s other hand comes up and wraps around my neck, pushing against my throat. Only making me even harder.
“Shut up,” he hisses, like a needy desperate snake. “You did this.”
“Damn right I did,” I reply and pull him even closer by his bare sides. “Just admit it, you want this.”
“And you don’t?” he asks me in return. “You’re so hard, Tommy. I feel it.” He presses his palm against my dick through my boxers and I groan.
“Do whatever you want to me,” I say dizzily. I’d let him turn me around and rail me against the brick wall if he wants to, but he seems to have a different idea.
He reaches down with his other hand and unzips his own pants before grabbing my hand and guiding it to his crotch.
Before I can say anything else, his mouth crushes against my own. A mixture of my blood and his mixes with my saliva and I love it. The dirty iron taste in my mouth only drives me to rock my hips against his hand.
I slide my hand into his pants and boxers directly, wasting no time at all before wrapping my hand around his hard cock.
“Ahh, shit,” I gasp as he does the same thing and we’re here together in the alleyway with each other’s dicks in hand.
Aleksandr strokes me rough and fast, not taking his time and I match his tempo as best as I can while trying to focus on kissing him. It’s messy and hot. My tongue finds his in a swirl of spit and blood, teeth clashing and lips sucking.
His pulsing length is dripping into my hand as I’m jacking him off in quick succession, every little beat of his heat is felt in my palm. I can’t help but smirk into the kiss and I know he knows because he squeezes my throat tighter, like he’s telling me to knock it the fuck off.
It only sends the remaining blood in my head rushing down to my cock and I buck my hips into his hand like a wild animal desperate for release.
Everything is pure needy motivation at this point. No thoughts. No words. Just desire and movement, rough, wet, hot, and aching. All I can do is stroke Aleksandr sloppily with my shaking hand and rock my hips into his hand.
His tongue claims mine like no one else before, and he seems to know exactly what I need. His hand moves like velvet against my cock that leaks onto his fingers with each pivot around the head.
I pant out into the kiss, trying to find some air but I can hardly suck in a breath before he’s kissing me again, deep and sticky.
I can feel my orgasm cresting as I grind my hips against him and my cock throbs faster, my balls clenching until I cum all over his hand in several spurts. I groan into his mouth so low that it sounds like a growl in my chest, and I swear Aleksandr cums at the exact same time.
His wet cum splatters over my hand and the front of my jeans, and his breath is quick against my lips. Our lips cling to each other like they don’t want to part, but they do, eventually.
My body is tense for a moment until I shiver hard, and I feel Aleksandr trembling against me as he dips his head into the crook of my neck.
Everything is fuzzy, warm, and dark. I can’t think of anything for at least a couple minutes. We’re just standing dick to dick in the alleyway as they start to soften.
The only light is that of the street lamps near the end of the alleyway, but it’s enough that I can see the sweat glistening in his hair and on the skin of his neck.
I’m not sure why, but when I finally think of something to say, it’s not at all what I would have expected.
“Tell me why you’re here,” I mumble. “Why you’re doing all of this.”
I’m not talking about fucking me in an alleyway, no, I’m talking about something much more important than that. I’m talking about why he’s here in Italy in the first place. Why he’s pretending to be someone he’s not with the Bianchis and working with the Rose.
Aleksandr huffs against my neck. “No,” he says matter-of-factly.
I lick my lips and slide my hand that’s on his side up to my neck where his hand is still wrapped around my throat.
“Fine,” I reply quietly. “Don’t tell me. But this? This ain’t happening again.”
Aleksandr pulls back from me and looks me in the eyes, before removing his hands from me. My neck and length are cold in the absence of them.
“No, it’s not,” he agrees, his eyes growing cold and empty, but there’s something else there. Something darker.
Like a man searching for redemption.
We stare at each other, both of us still trying to catch our breathes.
“Zip up and get out of here before someone notices,” Aleksandr tells me after a moment. I watch as he situations himself back in his pants and zips up while stepping away from me.
He says nothing else as he walks down the alleyway and disappears into the shadows.
An ache begins to form in my chest and stomach. Not the hot needy ache from before, but something ice cold and painful.
“Fucking idiot,” I growl to no one in particular. I zip and button up my jeans, ignoring the wet sticky mess on my hand and the fabric, and look up at the sky for a second.
“Stupid, fucking idiot,” I huff. “That cannot happen again.”