20. Alek
ALEK
Getting Tommy into my car while he is passed out isn’t exactly easy, but I manage it. He’s lying in the backseat while I drive, and I can’t help but look at him through the rearview mirror every minute or so just to check on him.
I opt not to go to a safe house, but instead go to his apartment. I know he’ll be more comfortable there, and with the Bianchis and Carvels taken out, the risk of something happening is low. Not zero, but low enough that I feel comfortable taking him there.
I manage to rouse him enough to get him up the stairs into his apartment after searching his pocket for his keys. Once we’re inside, I take him to the couch and let him sink down into it with a groan.
“Where are we?” he asks me. His eyes are closed.
“At your apartment, I figured you would be happier here.” I take his boots off and toss them to the side, and get to work on taking off the rest of his clothing. I ignore my own injuries; they’re no where near as serious as his.
“What are you doing?” he asks me, looking confused and dazed.
“I need to get your pants off so I can check out the wound,” I tell him.
He hums in response and his head tilts back against the couch. I pull his pants off, dried and crusted blood pulling off with them. The bullet wound could be worse, it’s fairly shallow and it looks like he’s not actively bleeding anymore. The second I take it out, though, he will be.
“You have a first aid kit in here, right?” I ask him.
“Mhmm,” Tommy mumbles.
I sigh, knowing I’m not going to get much out of him. I start looking all around the apartment, starting with the kitchen, and then the bathroom. There I find a makeshift first aid kit in a tool box under the sink. It has everything I need to patch him up, thank God.
“This is going to hurt,” I warn him as I pull the gauze out and prepare to soak up some blood.
I dig my fingers in the wound and grab hold of the bullet, pulling it out in one quick movement. Tommy’s breath catches in his throat and he groans in pain.
I put the gauze over the wound and hold it there tightly for a few seconds before I start preparing the needle. It’s not exactly an ideal situation. I’m not a nurse or a doctor, but generally I try to avoid going to the hospital when I can… The memories it brings up… Not ones I want to revisit.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you fast enough,” I say as I start to suture the wound.
Tommy lifts his head up to look at me for just a second. “What are you talkin’ about?” he asks.
“At your estate. I didn’t get to you in time…they took you. I could have stopped them,” I say, my voice rough. “I should have stopped them.”
Tommy hisses as the needle goes through his flesh, and it seems to wake him up more.
“You couldn’t have known,” he tells me. His words remind me of him saying the same thing about my wife. I chuckle softly.
“I feel like I should have known they were going to try something,” I insist. “The Carvels, the Bianchis… all of them. I knew they were going to do something, but I didn’t expect them to kidnap you.”
“Me neither,” Tommy admits. “Carmine maybe, but me? They had all the chance in the world to kidnap my brother but they chose me…”
“What did they say to you?” I ask him as I tie off one of the stitches.
“They gave me a proposition,” he answers, his eyelids look heavy.
I look up into his face and see all of the cuts along his cheeks, jawline, neck… they make me wish I’d gotten to cause even more damage to the Bianchis than I did. That I had been able to torture one of them for a few hours.
I reach up with one of my hands and brush my fingers along his chest. I feel the blood-soaked fabric under my hand.
“What was it?” I ask.
“Join them or die,” Tommy reveals.
My jaw tightens. “Of course. They didn’t want you just to torture you or kill you, they wanted you to turn against your family. Against me.”
“They don’t know who I am,” Tommy smirks. His hand comes up and over mine on his chest. His fingers curl into mine. “Family is everything.”
“If we hadn’t gotten there when we did, you would be dead,” I mumble. “Wouldn’t you?”
His eyes soften slightly. “Yes.”
I growl under my breath. “Those sons of bitches… If I hadn’t already killed Stephan Bianchi, I would do it again.”
“You did kill him, though,” Tommy reminds me. “He’s dead. You killed him…for her.”
I blink at him. My heart squeezes hard in my chest and my eyes burn.
“Not just her,” I admit. “For you, too.”
He squeezes my hand. I look down at the wound that still needs one more stitch and pull my hand away from his to finish it.
When I’m done, I put the needle and thread to the side and start looking at his other wounds. The cuts on his face, the bruises… They make me sick to my stomach.
“Your other wounds don’t look bad enough to be sutured,” I say. “You’re going to have some scars though.”
“What’s another one?” Tommy smirks at me, but there’s something more in his eyes. “Come here.”
He spreads his thighs just a bit and I sit down on my knees between them, placing my hands on his shoulders.
“Is everything okay? You probably need some painkillers, right? Where do you keep them?” I ask three questions in a row, but he doesn’t answer them.
“Aleksandr,” he mumbles, and his eyes sift down to my lips then back to my eyes.
“What is it?” I ask.
He lifts a hand and presses his fingers to a bruise on the side of my face.
“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers.
My eyes sting even more, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“I would do anything for you, Tommaso,” I say. “Not just kill or die. I mean anything. I would give up all of this for you, this life… The way I have lived the last five years. The hunting, the plotting, the undercover work. I would live a normal life, for you.”
“Do you want to live a normal life?” he asks me slowly.
I pause for a second, and let my gaze drift to the side as I think. “All I want is you, Tommy. Any life, with you.”
I lean forward and press my forehead to his, and he slides his hands onto my waist.
“I love you,” Tommy says in a breath.
My heart pounds in my chest. Every bit of guilt I’ve felt for being with him seems to flood away from me for this moment. All I can do is slide my hands onto his shoulders and rub my nose against his before I speak.
“I love you too.” I can’t believe I’m saying those words. Words I never thought I’d say again.
His fingers trail up my shirt, and my own fingers slide into the neckline of his. Our lips touch, and I simply let them remain that way for a second or two. Touching ever so slightly.
Until the scent of Tommy’s blood, sweat and musk become too much, and I have to kiss him. Really kiss him.
I capture his mouth with mine and kiss him deeply. So deep that his groan is muffled in my mouth and my tongue glides over his.
He kisses me back eagerly, despite his wounded state. Tommy’s hands grip my bare sides under my shirt and goosebumps travel up my back.
I swirl my tongue around his and taste him, cherish him, as tears sting in my eyes.
I pull back from the kiss suddenly and look into his face.
“We shouldn’t, you’re injured, you—” I try to say, but he stops me. By kissing me.
Tommy kisses me hard. It’s warm and tastes like his blood, iron, and salt. The cuts on his lips drip blood every so often as we kiss and I lap it up like an animal.
I feel him tug at my shirt and I lift my arms so he can help me get it over my head, and I do the same for him, grabbing his shirt and pulling it off over his head and arms. My hands travel down his soft but muscular chest to his stomach.
“Are you alright?” Tommy asks against my mouth as a tear slides from my cheek to his.
“With you? Always…” I mumble against his lips.
The air in the room is already hot as we continue to kiss. Every single touch feels like electricity running through my body. Tommy’s fingers slide into the waistband of my pants and rub along the skin there.
My cock throbs needily, and I grunt as I press myself against him.
This isn’t like the other times we’ve had sex; it doesn’t feel like either of us are truly in charge or dominant. It feels like something else entirely. Something new. Something that makes me shiver with anticipation as I suck on his tongue.
Heat floods my thighs and dick as Tommy starts to undo my pants.
“Are you sure?” I ask him.
“I need you,” he growls.
That’s all I need to hear. It’s like sparks are flying all around us as I squirm out of my pants and boxers and his hands lavish me with touches from my hips to the tip of my hard length.
I work eagerly to take his boxers off, being careful of his leg and slowly climb back into his lap.
Tommy turns himself as best he can until he can lay down on his back on the couch and I climb on top of him.
I straddle him and place my hands on his chest, just looking down at him.
He’s beaten and bruised…but he’s alive. He’s here and he’s alive.
I lean down and begin to kiss along his wounds. On his cheeks, his jawline, his neck…
Tommy gasps softly and rocks himself up against me. I can feel his hard length slide against mine. Precum dripping from both of our tips.
“God… I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper as I press my lips to his once, then twice. “You’re alive. You’re alive. I was so scared.”
“I’m here, Alek,” Tommy coos and slides his hands along my bare ass. His fingers start to spread my cheeks.
I kiss his jawline and leave a trail of kisses down his neck as his fingers prod at my hole and start to push inside slowly, testing, teasing.
“Fuck, I need you,” I groan.
I can tell he’s weaker than usual, due to the blood loss and injuries, but it doesn’t seem to stop him from grinding his dick up against me and plunging his fingers inside of me.
I rock back on his fingers and let him stretch me open with them.
His mouth finds mine and he kisses me deeply. Tommy slides his tongue against mine, and we kiss in such a messy fashion that saliva drips down both of our chins.
It seems like an hour goes by while he works me with his fingers and we kiss. It’s slow, unhurried, and he rubs at my prostate inside of me like it’s some precious thing.