43. Vlad
CHAPTER 43
VLAD
The elevator ascends like a speeding bullet, propelling Nico and I toward an unknown destination. Well, unknown to him.
The confined space is filled with a sense of anticipation, a tangible energy that can be felt in the air.
"What's going on, Vlad?" Nico asks, his blue eyes searching mine for answers as we continue flying into the sky. "Where are you taking me?"
I allow a small smile to play across my lips, hopping it's not fake, hoping he can't see through my bluff. "It's a surprise."
Nico arches an eyebrow, a gesture that only accentuates his sharp, handsome features. "Is that why you asked me to dress up?" He tips his chin down to his shirt.
I place both hands on his shoulders, feeling the fine fabric of his tailored suit beneath my fingers. "You look really good, Romeo."
In my mind, I etch this image of him into my memory. That's how I want to remember you. Alive and dashing.
"Is that a compliment I hear?" He chuckles. "From Vlad Solovey?"
I want to kiss him right there and then but the elevator dings, announcing our arrival, and the doors slide open to reveal a private rooftop dining room. Sixty-four floors in this new building on the edge of the Strip one of my colleagues constructed.
I grab Nico's hand before he gets a chance to say anything and lead us out of the elevator. Our gazes lock for a second when I glance at him over my shoulder. An unspoken acknowledgment of this evening's significance drifts between us like a suspended moment in time. Only, he doesn't know it, doesn't know what it means for me.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his gaze dropping to our joined hands.
I shrug. "I couldn't care less what the waitstaff here thinks."
He yanks me closer and whispers in my ear, "Attaboy."
"You better not start something before dinner," I mutter a response through my teeth, trying to tell my cock not to get too excited.
The room I reserved is faintly lit by the shimmering glow of strategically placed candles. Glass walls encircle the perimeter, offering a breathtaking panorama of Las Vegas. The city's neon arteries throb with life below this intimate bubble we find ourselves in.
There's a single round table in the center of the room with two chairs opposite each other.
The ma?tre d' appears, silently polite. He greets us with a small bow and takes us to our seats.
There's no mistaking in what it is.
A date.
A real fucking date.
Something I should have done with him a long time ago. Maybe the moment he approached me in that California hotel bar.
"I must say when you told me it was a surprise, I thought it would be anything but this," Nico murmurs as ma?tre d' takes a few steps back to let us settle first.
"What did you expect?" I ask, pulling a chair for him. "An armory or a shooting range tour?"
He sits down. "Knowing you… Possibly."
"I figured," I round the table and pause to take a deep breath, "we should have an anniversary and we should celebrate it."
"What are we celebrating?"
I sit down too. "Us being official." The words just tumble out of my mouth, casual. But there's absolutely nothing casual in the way I feel on the inside. It hurts to be the only one to know this relationship won't live long enough to see another anniversary.
I push the thoughts away. I want to be in the moment. With him.
A waiter materializes with a jar of water.
I don't mind the interruption. It's awkward, being this open about who I am in front of strangers. Even if they are just the staff who won't say anything. Not if they want to keep working in an establishment as such.
"So, anniversary as a couple?" Nico muses when the waiter is gone.
"Why not?" I say, perusing the menu.
"I like it."
My eyes skim over dishes, unable to concentrate on food. Instead, my attention keeps shifting to Nico, sitting across from me, all dressed up, cleanly shaved, looking magnificent. You wouldn't have guessed life has been dragging him through mud all this time. I'm only realizing this now myself, which only solidifies my decision.
When you truly love someone, sometimes you have to let them go. To sacrifice your own wants for the life they deserve.
The water comes and goes as we place our order, then he reappears with a bottle of wine.
Nico's eyes light up at the label, and I can't keep my smile at bay. When I drink, I'm a hard liquor man. I know nothing about the intricacies of wine-making, but of course, an Italian would have a refined palate for such things.
"I hope I chose something worth your while."
"Allow me?" he asks the waiter and grabs the bottle from him, then expertly pours us two glasses, tilting them slightly while he does so. He swirls the wine in his glass first, inhaling its aroma, then takes a sip and savors the flavors for a few seconds. His lips linger on the edge of the glass. "Da Vinci himself couldn't have chosen better," he finally says with that dumb smirk I've been missing so much. His gaze meets mine across the table. "Are you just going to stare at me?"
I realize I have indeed been staring. "I like what I see."
"Do you now?" He sets the glass back on the table. I feel the tip of his shoe brushing the bottom of my slacks. "And I like what I see."
Just then the food starts arriving, breaking the spell of sexual attraction for a short while.
As we eat, we engage in mundane small talk, discussing the nasty weather these past few days, the recent renovations at one of the restaurants Nico owns in LA, anything to avoid the elephant in the room. And the elephant is me and him together and our plans for the future. But as the night wears on, our conversation turns more personal. I find myself opening up about my brother's travels with Logan, his partner. I hardly tell anyone anything about Sasha. It's bad enough Shtyk is still in the wind and can try to use my brother again to get what he wants.
"Your turn," I prod, spearing a bite of my steak. "Any family members not in the... um, business?"
"Yes. Everyone knows Tony has a daughter. My cousin, Viola. She's in LA, studying acting or modeling, or being an influencer. Basically doing some girly things." He stops talking for a second, looking at his plate in front of him as if the food on it has hypnotized him. "I like that for her. She doesn't need to see what happened to her brothers. Especially Salvatore. To me, he was a bully when we were growing up but he was kind to his sister. Like any true brother would be."
"He chose his own path, Nico," I whisper. "He could have done what Roberto did. Just give up. But he chose to get tangled with that madman Toro and bring La Alianza into the city. It's bad for all the families in Vegas."
"I understand. Doesn't mean I can't feel shitty."
"Trust me I feel shitty too," I confess.
Nico chuckles. "Interesting. At first, I didn't think you could feel at all."
"Asshole."
"I'll take as a compliment."
"It was meant as one."
At that Nico laughs, and the sound warms me to my core. "Sounds like you have me all figured out, Vladimir," he teases.
Our banter flows effortlessly, like a dance we've honed to perfection over time. Yet tonight, an electric tension crackling beneath our words is real, physical. It's right there, on the tip of my tongue—the taste of his sweat and his cum, the feel of his body pressed up to mine.
And when an opening in the conversation appears, I take it. "I got us a suite downstairs."
Nico sets down his fork, his eyes locking with mine. "Is that so?" His voice suddenly drops to a lower register.
"We could... continue our discussion in private," I suggest.
Nico carefully dabs his lips with the silk napkin and tosses it on the table. "You're a proper gentleman. You wined and dined me before asking for my cock. I'm impressed, Mr. Solovey."
That's all the invitation I need. I signal for the check and guide Nico through the empty restaurant and to the banks of elevators.
There, as I press the button, I lean in and murmur in his ear, "I have a few more things you'll be impressed with, Mr. Morelli."
Ding.
The elevator arrives.
* * *
"You know how to set the mood," Nico husks out between the kisses. The room is just a few floors below the rooftop restaurant, but it feels like we're running out of time and I still have a million kisses I want to give him as a reminder of us before it's all gone, before we are torn apart by the very world we reign over.
" Da ," I respond, dragging my lips over the column of his throat, my hands finding purchase on his hips as I press him against the mirrored wall of the elevator a little harder. "I wanted tonight to be special." My heart is an erratic metronome in my chest as I look at him. His blue eyes shimmer in the fluorescent light of the cabin, going down.
Our lips collide again, a delicious clash of hunger and need. He tastes of the merlot we shared, so heady. A soft moan escapes him as I deepen the kiss, my tongue delving further into his mouth, desperate to memorize every contour.
All too soon, the elevator dings, signaling our arrival. Reluctantly, I pull back, my lips tingling with the loss of contact. Nico's chest heaves, his cheeks flushed a tantalizing pink. Hand in hand, we step out into the empty hallway.
Our room is at the end of the corridor. And my fingers tremble when I slide the key card into the lock. It clicks open like a promise. We stumble inside, the door slamming shut behind us, sealing us away from prying eyes and the weight of our realities.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking scenery of the Vegas skyline. But I don't care about the view or the room. I care about the man in my arms, moaning seductively whenever our lips connect.
At some point as we stumble across the room, the reflection of us in the mirrors on the ceiling catch my eye. We are two people in an infinite loop of desire. In this room, there can be no secrets, no lies. Only raw, unfiltered truth.
"I'm impressed..." Nico breathes, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of my shirt.
I silence him with another kiss, backing him toward the king-sized bed that seems to dominate the space. We fall onto the mattress, limbs entangled, our clothes suddenly too constricting, too suffocating.
"Need you so bad, Romeo," I murmur against his skin, my lips trailing fire along the curve of his jaw. "Want to feel all of you."
Nico arches into my touch, a low groan tearing from his lips. "All of me is already yours."
Those words, spoken with such certainty, such devotion, threaten to unravel me completely. With renewed urgency, we remove the last of our clothing. Pants, shirts, shoes, socks. Not a single layer left between us.
We're skin against skin, heart against heart. In this moment, we are not heirs or rivals. We are simply two men, Vlad and Nico.
Hot Shot and Romeo.
And we are seeking solace in each other's arms.
I lean over Nico, holding him down on the bed with his wrists in my grasp. Our chests rise and fall rapidly as we lock eyes. This is always the most intense part for me–the unspoken challenge between us that made me fall for him the very first time we did this.
"Don't get cocky," I say playfully, shaking my head and tracing my tongue over the grooves of his chin. And that goddamned cleft. Fucking perfection. "Just because I said tonight was special doesn't mean I'll go easy on you."
He smiles at me, that charming smile, all teeth and sarcasm.
Then in one swift motion, he spins me around. I'm the one pinned to the mattress now.
"Look who's talking," he rasps out, leaning in to nip on my earlobe.
My cock stands at attention, ready for action.
I muster all my might and turn us again, drinking in the sight of him splayed out beneath me.
Deep down, a part of me still marvels at the twisted path that led us here. Affection, in all its messy, complicated glory, has always been a liability in our world. A weakness to be exploited. But gazing down at the man who holds my heart in his hands, I know with startling clarity that I would burn the world to ash for him.
"Give in," I growl.
Nico's eyes flash. "Never."
With a swift move, he breaks free and flips our positions again, now looming over me. The weight of his body presses me into the mattress when he grinds his hips into mine. My pulse races.
"Looks like I win," Nico says with a smirk.
I swallow hard. "Then claim your prize."
His expression softens. "What do you mean?"
"Make love to me," I whisper. "I want you inside."
He searches my face. "Are you certain, gattino ? We don't have to do this just be—"
"Shut up before I change my goddamned mind. Shut up and fuck me."
Nico's eyes darken with desire. He leans down, brushing his lips against my ear. "Then I'll worship every inch of you same way you worship mine."
I shiver at his words. "The nightstand drawer," I say. "Look inside."
Nico reaches over and pulls it open. His eyebrows raise as he extracts a gleaming metal object.
"A butt plug?" He holds it up, moonlight and neon sparkle off the polished surface. "I must say now I'm really surprised."
"Lick it," I command.
Without hesitation, Nico's tongue darts out, tracing the curved edge.
My breath catches in my throat. I've never even imagined another man doing this to a sex toy would get me this aroused.
"Take it in your mouth," I rasp, fisting my cock.
He obeys, lips wrapping around the cool metal. The sight sends a jolt of lightning through me. My balls tighten.
I roll onto my stomach. "Use lube. In the drawer. Prepare me."
Nico's warm hand caresses my lower back. "Has anyone ever...?"
"No," I admit. "You'll be my first."
His touch grows reverent as he spreads my ass cheeks, brushing his thumb over the tight ring of muscle. Carefully, he grabs the lube and slathers it over my hole, spreading it with his fingers.
I close my eyes and surrender myself completely to his tender ministrations, my walls crumbling at last. Yes, I want this. I want him to own me same way I've owned him for a while.
When the cold metal presses against my entrance, I gasp. Nico's free hand strokes me soothingly.
"Breathe, caro ," he murmurs, his lips grazing my neck. "Breath and relax."
I inhale deeply, willing my muscles to loosen. The plug slides in slowly, stretching me in ways I've never experienced. It burns, a delicious ache that makes me tremble, makes my limbs lose all sensation.
"Nico," I groan, grabbing at the sheets. "It's... ahh fuck."
"You're doing beautifully," he praises, pushing it deeper. "So perfect for me."
When it's fully seated, I feel impossibly full. Vulnerable. Exposed. Yet safer than I've ever been.
Nico's fingers trail up and down my spine. "How does it feel now?"
"Like I'm yours," I whisper, the truth of it hitting me like a thunderbolt.
He kisses my shoulder blade. "You are. And I'm yours. Completely."
My heart swells. I've spent years hiding my true self. But here, with him, I'm laid bare—and for the first time, I'm not afraid. For the first time, I don't hear Yuri's ugly voice telling me it's beneath a Solovey man to bend for another man.
No, fuck that.
It's a bliss, being this close to someone. No secrets.
Nico gently urges me up. "On your knees, babe. Hold the headboard."
I comply, gripping the ornate wood as Nico positions himself behind me. His hand wraps around my cock, stroking slowly.
"Nico," I moan, rocking into his touch. "Please... fuck…" Some words in Russian spill out of me too. I don't bother to tell him what they mean. He knows. Same way I know what he means when he murmurs things in Italian.
Just as I'm on the brink, he abruptly yanks at the plug as if wanting to hear my reaction.
It's instantaneous—I moan.
"Time to take my cock, gattino ."
He carefully removes the plug and I whimper at the loss. His finger slides inside next, quick and unexpected, moving in and out a few times. "Ah, you're so slick and ready for me. I'll take care of you." He grabs at the base of my dick with one hand and angles my upper body down a little for better access. He strokes me a few times next before asking, "Do you want to use a condom?"
"Did I say I wanted to feel a piece of rubber?" I ask. "I want you."
He kisses my shoulder. Then I feel something pressing against me. Something hot and wet.
Nico's voice is rough with desire when he growls, "Say you want it like this. Say it again."
"I want it. Want your cock to fuck me so hard I can't walk. Want to feel you so bad. Without a fucking condom."
"Then let me be your first." He pushes inside me. Just a little.
My breath is stuck in my lungs.
"You'll be my last, too," I whisper.
"If that's what you want," he whispers back. Then he enters me with agonizing slowness, each inch a burning revelation. The stretch is exquisite torture, pain and pleasure fusing into something transcendent.
I gasp, my knuckles white on the headboard.
"Don't forget to breathe," Nico instructs gently. "I've got you."
His words anchor me as he sinks deeper. I feel split open, raw, remade. When he's fully sheathed, we both shudder.
"Vlad," he groans, grabbing my chin to turn my head sideways. "You feel like paradise."
I capture his lips in a fierce, sloppy kiss as much as the angle allows me. "Move," I command, voice ragged. "Move before I lose it and come."
Nico obliges, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting back in. This time he's not gentle at all. He's doing exactly what I asked him to do. Destroying me. Destroying my asshole. The sensation steals my breath. He sets a steady rhythm, each stroke igniting sparks along my spine and in my prostate.
"God, you're perfect," he pants. "So tight, so good for me. Could fuck this tight virgin asshole all night."
His praise washes over me, stoking the fire in my veins. I push back against him, matching his tempo. We move together like waves crashing against that California shore where we met, relentless and wild.
Nico's hand starts stroking my cock in time with his thrusts. I'm drowning in sensation, lost in it.
"Close," I warn, teetering on the edge.
"Let go," Nico urges. "Wanna feel you come apart."
His words shatter my last shred of control. I cry out, spilling over his hand and against the headboard as pleasure crashes through me. Nico follows moments later, his release pulsing deep inside me, filling my asshole with his thick, hot cum.
Fuck, that feels so good. So filthy, so depraved, but heavenly good.
I wanna do it all over again, have Nicola Morelli own me for the rest of my days.