Chapter 8 Matteo
I WOKE WITH Stefan in my arms and knew everything had changed.
Not regret—I couldn't regret something that had felt that right. But the weight of what I'd done settled in my chest like stone. I'd crossed a line I couldn't uncross. Turned captivity into something else entirely. Transformed strategy into obsession made real.
Stefan was still asleep, his face peaceful in the early morning light filtering through the high window.
His light brown hair was messy from my hands.
His lips were swollen from kissing. Marks I'd left decorated his throat and collarbones—visible proof that he was mine now in ways that had nothing to do with locked doors and keycard access.
I couldn't pretend this was about leverage anymore. Couldn't tell my partners I was working on extracting information. Couldn't maintain the fiction that keeping Stefan served any purpose except that I wanted him and couldn't let him go.
I was fucked.
Stefan stirred. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to wakefulness. When his gaze found me, something vulnerable flickered across his face before he locked it down.
"You're staring," he said, voice still rough from sleep.
"Can't help it."
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "Do you regret it?"
"I should."
"That's not what I asked."
I studied his face. The uncertainty hiding behind the question. The fear that I'd wake up and realize this had been a mistake. That I'd hurt him or push him away or turn cold now that I'd gotten what I wanted.
Instead of answering, I kissed him.
Soft at first. Gentle. Then deeper as he responded, his body melting against mine. His hand came up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing over my cheek in a gesture that was almost tender.
"No regrets," I said against his mouth. "Not even close."
Relief flooded his expression. Then heat as I rolled him onto his back and settled between his thighs.
"Matteo—we just—I'm probably still—"
"I know." I kissed down his throat. "I'll be careful. Gentle. If it's too much, tell me."
"It won't be too much."
"Stefan—"
"Please." His green eyes held mine. "I want this. Want you. Again."
I couldn't deny him anything when he looked at me like that.
I kissed him thoroughly first, taking my time with his mouth. Learning the sounds he made when I sucked on his bottom lip. The way his breath hitched when I deepened the kiss. The little gasps he couldn't contain when I pulled back just enough to make him chase my mouth.
"Matteo," he breathed against my lips. "Please—"
"Patience." I kissed down his jaw. His throat. Found his pulse point and sucked hard enough to leave another mark. "I want to learn you. Every sound. Every reaction. Every place that makes you fall apart."
His hands slid into my hair, holding on like he needed the anchor. "You already made me fall apart. Twice."
"Not like this." I bit gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and Stefan gasped. "There. That's one."
I did it again. Harder this time. His whole body arched into me, fingers tightening in my hair. The gasp turned into a moan.
"Sensitive there," I murmured against his skin. "I'll remember that."
I mapped his body methodically. Kissed and bit and sucked my way across his collarbones. Found the spot on his ribs that made him squirm. The place just below his navel that made his breath catch. The inside of his thigh that made him spread his legs wider, offering himself completely.
He was beautiful like this. Flushed and wanting. His green eyes dark with arousal. His lips swollen from kissing. His chest heaving with every breath.
Mine.
The thought was primal and possessive and impossible to deny.
I wrapped my hand around him and Stefan's back arched off the bed. His eyes slammed shut.
"Eyes open," I commanded. "I want to see you."
They fluttered open. Glazed and desperate. "Matteo—I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." I stroked him slowly. Root to tip. Watching his face. "You can take everything I want to give you."
I prepared him again even though he was still loose from earlier. Used my fingers carefully, watching for any sign of discomfort. He was so responsive—pushing back against my hand, making those desperate little sounds that went straight to my cock.
When I finally pushed inside him, we both groaned.
He was so tight. So hot. Perfect.
I started to move. Long, slow thrusts that let us both feel every inch. Let me find the angle that made Stefan's eyes roll back. Let me watch his face as pleasure built and built and built.
"God, you feel incredible," I told him. "So perfect. Like you were made for me."
"Matteo—" His hands gripped my shoulders. Nails digging in. "Please—faster—I need—"
"No." I kept the same maddening pace. "Slow. I want this to last. Want to feel you coming apart piece by piece."
I wrapped my hand around him again, stroking in time with my thrusts. His whole body trembled. His mouth fell open on a silent cry.
"That's it," I encouraged. "Let me hear you. No one can hear us. Just you and me."
He moaned. Long and low and completely wrecked. The sound made something primal in me roar with satisfaction.
I shifted angles slightly. Hit that spot deep inside him. Stefan cried out, his back arching so sharply I thought he might break.
"There," I said with satisfaction. "Found it."
I aimed for that spot with every thrust. Watched Stefan fall apart beneath me. His hands scrabbled for purchase on my shoulders, my back, anywhere he could reach. His legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper. His head thrashed on the pillow as pleasure overwhelmed him.
He responded like he'd never been touched properly before. Like every caress was a revelation. Like pleasure was something new instead of something he'd experienced a hundred times.
It made me furious and tender in equal measure.
Furious at everyone who'd ever made Stefan think sex was just something to endure. That pleasure was something he didn't deserve. That his body was just a tool for someone else's satisfaction.
And tender because I got to be the one to show him different. To worship him properly. To prove that he deserved every ounce of attention and care and devotion I could give.
I leaned down and kissed him. Deep and thorough. Poured everything I couldn't say into the connection. His mouth opened under mine, accepting. Trusting.
"You're so beautiful," I told him between kisses. "So fucking beautiful when you let go. When you stop thinking and just feel."
"Can't—think—" he gasped out. "Too much—Matteo—please—"
"Please what? Tell me what you need."
"You. Just you. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
"Never." I kissed down his throat. Found that sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder and bit down gently. He cried out, his whole body clenching around me. "I'm never stopping. Never letting you go. You're mine now, Stefan. Mine to protect. Mine to pleasure. Mine to keep."
"Yes—" The word came out broken. Desperate. "Yours—god, Matteo, I'm yours—"
The declaration made something in my chest explode.
I thrust harder. Deeper. My hand moved faster on his cock. I could feel him getting close—his body tensing, his breathing turning erratic, his sounds becoming more desperate.
"Look at me," I commanded. "Stefan—look at me. Let me see you."
His eyes opened. Locked on mine. Vulnerable and open and completely undone.
I'd never seen anything more beautiful.
"That's it," I encouraged. "Stay with me. Let me see everything."
"Matteo—I'm going to—I can't hold—"
"Then don't. Come for me. Let go."
I thrust hard and twisted my wrist on the upstroke and Stefan shattered.
His eyes stayed locked on mine as he came. His mouth fell open on my name. His body clenched around me like a vice. I felt him pulse in my hand, warmth spilling over my fingers.
Something in my chest cracked wide open watching him fall apart. Completely vulnerable. Completely trusting. Giving himself over to pleasure without reservation.
Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.
I followed him over the edge moments later. The sight of Stefan coming undone beneath me pushed me past the point of control. I buried myself deep and came with his name on my lips, burying my face against his neck and holding him like letting go would destroy me.
We stayed like that for a long moment. Both trembling. Both trying to catch our breath. Both overwhelmed by what kept happening between us.
Eventually, I pulled out carefully and rolled to the side. Pulled Stefan against my chest. His body was still shaking with aftershocks.
"You okay?" I asked, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"I think you broke me." His voice was wrecked. Satisfied. "In the best possible way."
I laughed softly. "Good. That was the plan."
"If that's what you do when you take your time, I'm not sure I'll survive the next round."
"There's going to be a next round?"
He tilted his head back to look at me. His green eyes were soft. Sated. Happy in a way I'd never seen before.
"Yeah," he said simply. "There's going to be a lot of next rounds."
The certainty in his voice made my chest tight.
This was real. Whatever was happening between us—however fucked up and complicated and impossible it should be—it was real.
I pulled him closer and let myself believe it.
Just for now. Just for these few hours before reality came crashing back in.
Stefan was mine. And I'd do whatever it took to keep him.
Even if that made me a monster.
Even if the world burned around us.
He was mine.
And I was never letting go.
"We should probably talk about this," Stefan said eventually.
"Probably."
"But you're not going to."
"Not yet." I pressed a kiss to his temple. "Let me have this for a few more hours before reality crashes back in."
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "Okay. A few more hours."
We dozed. When we woke again, Stefan's stomach growled loud enough to make us both laugh.
"I should get you food," I said.
"Or you could stay here and we could ignore basic human needs."