Chapter 12
Tipping Point
The night before the infiltration, the air inside the abandoned hideout was thick with unspoken words and the weight of what was to come. The dim glow of a single overhead bulb cast flickering shadows against the cracked walls, mirroring the turmoil inside them. Outside, the world was silent, save for the distant hum of the city beyond, oblivious to the storm brewing between two men caught between duty and desire.
Aldo sat on the edge of the worn-out couch, his wounded shoulder stiff, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the bandage Matteo had secured earlier. His jaw was tight, his usual confidence fractured beneath the exhaustion and the reality of what lay ahead.
Across from him, Matteo paced, restless energy coiling through his body, as if movement could shake off the weight pressing down on him.
Neither of them spoke, but the air between them was charged, a silent battle neither was willing to lose. The weeks of running, fighting, saving each other, of denying what had become impossible to ignore, had led to this moment. The tipping point.
Matteo stopped abruptly, exhaling sharply. “You should rest,” he said, voice rough with restraint.
Aldo let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “You keep saying that. Like sleep is going to change anything.” He looked up then, his dark eyes locking onto Matteo’s, the fire behind them impossible to mask. “Like it’s going to make tomorrow any less of a death trap.”
Matteo swallowed hard, the weight of Aldo’s gaze unraveling the last of his defenses. He crossed the room in two strides, standing over Aldo, his breath uneven. “Then what do you want me to say?” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper.
Aldo held his stare, something raw flickering in his expression. He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he reached out, fingers curling around Matteo’s wrist, pulling him down with a force that left no room for doubt.
Their lips crashed together, a collision of frustration, longing, and pent-up emotion. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was years of enmity, days of tension, and the terrifying uncertainty of what came next, all pouring into one desperate moment.
Matteo groaned against Aldo’s mouth, the heat of him searing through the thin barrier of their clothes. The kiss deepened, turning hungry, demanding. Aldo’s teeth grazed Matteo’s bottom lip before parting for him, a sharp intake of breath swallowed between them as Matteo’s tongue slid against his in a slow, deliberate stroke that sent shivers racing down Aldo’s spine.
Aldo’s fingers tangled in Matteo’s hair, pulling him closer, as if closing the space between them could erase the danger, the past, the inevitability of what tomorrow would bring.
Their breaths were ragged, their touches fevered, and when they broke apart just enough to look at each other, the walls they had built around themselves finally crumbled.
“This is a mistake,” Aldo murmured, but his lips found Matteo’s again before the words had a chance to settle between them.
Matteo’s fingers tightened in Aldo’s hair, tilting his head back slightly, claiming him with a fierceness that left no room for retreat. “Maybe,” he breathed against his lips. “But I’ll still make it.”
As their bodies pressed flush against each other, hands began to move with urgency. Matteo’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of Aldo’s shirt, the heat of his skin searing against his palms. Aldo gasped into Matteo’s mouth as the fabric was pushed upward, their lips breaking only for a second as Matteo tugged the shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor.
Aldo, undeterred, made quick work of Matteo’s shirt, shoving it off his shoulders before his hands roamed over the firm planes of his chest, tracing old scars and fresh bruises like they were a map only he could read.
Breathless, Matteo pressed Aldo back against the couch, his hands sliding down Aldo’s sides before finding the buckle of his belt. Aldo smirked against his lips, biting down gently before whispering, “You sure about this?”
Matteo’s only answer was the sharp tug of leather, the rasp of metal against fabric, the way his mouth trailed lower, pressing heated kisses down Aldo’s jaw, his neck, his chest.
Aldo exhaled sharply, fingers digging into Matteo’s shoulders as control slipped through his fingers. They undressed each other with a fevered desperation, as if stripping away the last layers between them could make this real, make it permanent.
When there was nothing left between them but the raw press of skin against skin, Matteo paused, his forehead resting against Aldo’s as they caught their breath. He traced his thumb over Aldo’s cheekbone, softer now, his voice barely above a whisper. “No turning back.”
Aldo tilted his head, capturing Matteo’s mouth once more. “I don’t want to.”
It was all Matteo needed to hear.
He spit into his hand before grabbing Aldo’s cock that rested against his stomach, hard and already leaking, getting it slick in a few strokes.
Aldo moaned brokenly at the action, his head hitting the back of the couch and eyes closing for a moment before he seemed to snap back to himself. He pressed three fingers against Matteo’s lips, which the man greedingly allowed, sucking on them, while moaning around them.
Aldo pulled them out after a few moments, before reaching behind the man in his lap and slowly easing them, one by one into him.
“Fuck…” Matteo moaned, his hand going slack on Aldo’s cock as he tried to adjust to the pain of the intrusion. Aldo was quick to capture his lips in a heated kiss, his other hand slipping between them, his fingers wrapping around Matteo’s cock in an effort to get his mind off the pain.
“Yes…” Matteo moaned as he did so, his eyes half lidded, his face a picture of ecstasy as he started to move; his hips slowly undulating over Aldo’s lap and making him go crazy with lust.
His mouth latched onto Matteo’s neck, kissing, sucking, biting on it as his hands moved, the sound of their harsh breaths and moans of pleasure the only sound in the quiet room.
“I’m ready… “ Matteo said after a moment, his voice quiet, raspy as he grabbed Aldo’s hair and pulled his head back, kissing him harshly. “Fuck me, De Luca.”
Aldo was quick to comply.
As soon as he bottomed out, his head once again hit the back of the couch, his breathing hard, his heart beating wildly, as Matteo squeezed tightly around him.
‘Shit…. Shit…” he groaned, trying to calm down before he did something embarrassing like cum right that second. But it proved almost impossible as every minute movement of the man above him sent a shard of pleasure through his body.
“Move… move…please…” Matteo moaned, before claiming his lips once again.
Aldo growled, all of his control finally snapping, as he grabbed Matteo’s ass with his hands and impaled him harshly.
“Fuck!” Matteo moaned, his arms wrapping around Aldo’s neck as the man started to thrust into him repeatedly, not giving him a moment to gather his wits.
Aldo was ruthless, harsh, his hips snapping up quickly, while his mouth descended on Matteo’s neck, biting and sucking on the tan skin and leaving it tender and bruised. And through it all, Matteo started to wonder if this was heaven.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come…Fuck…” he moaned brokenly, still holding on for dear life, his hands clutching tightly to the strands of Aldo’s hair. In the next moment, he did, his cum spilling between them, painting Aldo’s stomach and even catching his chin.
“ Matteo …” Aldo moaned, his name slipping from his lips like a prayer before he froze, his arms a vice around Matteo’s body as he emptied himself into him.
Later, as the dawn crept in through the shattered window, Matteo lay awake, his arm draped over Aldo’s waist, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart while the man slept. The weight of what they had done settled over him, but there was no room for regret. Because in that moment, nothing else mattered.
Tomorrow, everything would change. But tonight, they had this.