Chapter 5
Matt
I hope Aron doesn’t take what I’m about to do as a personal affront.
I’m about to kick his ass.
Dad always believed in teaching valuable life lessons whenever possible, and this seems as good a time as any. I need to show the Syndicate that I’m not soft just because I’m gay, and I need to show Aron that I’m not going to go easy on him just because I’m in love with him.
Now, some might argue that beating Aron will make him appear soft, but I’m not worried about that.
Aron can take as good as he gives, and I know that no matter how hard I hit him today, he’ll walk out of here like nothing happened.
He might be bloodied and bruised, but I have no doubt that he can hide his pain better than anyone.
What our men will see are two hardened criminals, fighters who have no compunctions about beating the shit out of those who might deserve it—even if the ones who deserve are people we care about.
As if he can read my thoughts, Aron chuckles and says, “Am I the example here?” before we begin.
I shake my head with a rueful grin. “We both are. I want people to remember what the Syndicate is about: Rule by blood. Dad’s been gone long enough that I think some of them have forgotten that. Gone soft.”
“Oh, so I’m free to mar that gorgeous face?”
“Mar whatever you want, but remember that if you break it, you can’t use it later on.”
He winks at me. “Same goes for you, lover.”
I’d laugh at that, but he strikes not a second later.
I barely dodge Aron’s fist. As it speeds by my face, his other hand catches my ribcage with an uppercut. The wind whooshes out of my lungs, and I double over, making my face an easy target for his knee. My jaw cracks, and I stumble backwards to get out of his reach.
“Rule by blood, Matt. Don’t forget.”
That asshole is enjoying this! Despite my pain, I smile up at him and heave a few labored breaths. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“You’re welcome, Don Matt.”
For that, I sweep his leg the second he’s close enough. He falls onto his back, and I jump to straddle him. Before he can swing again, I kneel on his arms and throw three quick jabs to the side of his head. Aron’s leg wraps around my neck, pulling me back, and soon he’s the one pinning me.
God, this is turning me on. Lying on my back, between Aron’s legs, his cock just inches away from my face …
Aron squeezes his thighs while I’m distracted. I try to tap out, but it seems he’s determined to win this bout. Stars swim in my vision for a few seconds, followed by tunneling darkness as I pass the fuck out.
* * *
Soft, gentle touches on my cheek welcome me back to awareness. I groan as I sit up from lying across Aron’s lap.
“Sorry,” he says as he smooths my hair and holds me to his chest, “but you did say we’re both to be the examples. I figure it’s six of one, half a dozen of the other which of us gets the worst of it.”
“How bad did you get me?”
I know before he answers that my jaw is cracked at the very least, possibly broken. Words are difficult to get out.
“I got your jaw. A couple of ribs, I think. Choked you out, but I don’t think it did any lasting damage.” Aron kisses the back of my neck. “You’ll survive.”
“And you?”
He laughs. “I think you might’ve concussed me a bit. Otherwise, I’m fine.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair?” I turn to face him, kissing as gently as I dare. “Thanks for going easy on me.”
“Who says I went easy on you?”
“I can still talk, and I don’t think I’ll be eating through a straw for the next few weeks. You went easy on me.”
His hand slides down my side, skipping the bruised ribs and coming to rest at my hip. “Don’t let the men know. They’ll think I’m a softie.”
“I know you’re a softie.”
Aron is gentle as he lays me down on the mat, taking extra care to cradle my head so he doesn’t jar it too much. From the bulging tent in his shorts, I can tell what’s coming, but I hope he’s in the mood to top; my ribs can’t handle it at the moment.
As he slides my gym shorts off, my cock bobs out, already hard.
He crawls forward between my legs and licks the underside of my shaft.
A thrill runs up my spine at the touch, and I bite my lip to keep from arching my back.
Aron licks, nibbles, sucks, kisses, turning me into a squirming mess before finally taking all of me down his throat.
He swallows me whole, saliva dripping down my balls, before releasing me with a sly grin.
“Not yet, Don Matteo. Don’t come yet.”
I watch intently as he crawls farther up my body, pushing my shirt up as he goes and taking the time to lick and suck each nipple to a hard peak.
When I lift my arms to let him pull off my shirt, he surprises me by only taking it partway off.
The damp fabric clings to my face, and Aron twists the hem around my wrists, trapping me.
“Now you’re at my mercy.”
With my mobility hampered and my vision blocked, I have no idea what’s coming.
Aron straddles my hips and trails his fingers down my stomach. He toys with my cock, teasing me until I whimper inside my shirt.
“Patience, Don Matteo. I’m not done with you yet.”
His hips come off mine, but not for long. Aron eases my spit-slick cock into his ass, slowly lowering himself onto me. Inside my fabric prison, I pant and heave, my excitement rising. He places a hand on my chest, pressing just hard enough to slow my frantic breathing.
“Calm down. You’re going to hyperventilate if you keep that up.”
“I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t start riding my cock,” I reply as I raise my hips, pushing deeper into him.
Aron sighs. “Watch those ribs, sir. I don’t want to have to explain a sex-oriented injury to the docs when we’re done.” He slowly rises, then lowers again. Up and down, up and down, in a smooth, easy rhythm. “We’re equals now, remember? This time, I lead.”
From anyone else, I’d resent those words. From Aron? They only serve to turn me on even more.
Each movement of his hips brings me to a new level of ecstasy.
Despite his admonitions not to breathe too hard, I can’t help myself.
The wet cotton threatens to suffocate me until Aron leans forward and pulls the neck of the garment up over my chin.
He doesn’t fully release me, but now I can breathe unhindered.
Until, that is, he kisses me.
The kiss, sudden and unexpected, takes away that breath I fought for, leaving heaven in its place.
A knock at the gym’s door startles me, and Aron groans.
“Fuck. They came back. I was hoping they’d leave us alone for another hour or so.”
Another hour? Jesus Christ in Heaven, the thought alone of another hour of this exquisite torture is almost enough to send me over the edge.
“What the fuck do you want?” Aron yells at the locked door. “We’re busy.”
I snicker under my breath, thinking about all the times in my youth that Aron covered for my trysts by telling the other guards I was “busy.”
“We’re sorry, dons, but there’s a message from Mrs. Mangi—er, from Mrs. Martinez. From the Empire.”
I thought I had avoided the stage in life where my mom could interrupt my sexual liaisons.
“Five fucking minutes!” Aron shouts, punctuating each word with another bounce on my cock. “Just give us five fucking minutes!”
Since our time alone is at an end, Aron starts riding me in earnest, his hips pounding mine into the mat with such force that I wonder if I’ll be able to walk after this.
I can only imagine the looks on our guards’ faces when we both stumble out of the gym like drunkards, with disheveled clothes and hair.
“You couldn’t give us a little longer, so we could shower?” I ask with a grin as he grunts and moans.
“Our secret’s out of the bag now, right? What’s the point if we can’t have some fun with it?”
Rather than set me at ease, his blasé attitude concerns me.
It’s a rapid shift from the melancholy of earlier today, and I wonder about his mental state.
Aron has always been the calm, collected one.
Even in our college days, he never treated his sex life as something to parade around. Why is he suddenly so bold?
I struggle to free myself from the shirt, but it’s no use. Whatever trick he used to wrap my hands has them locked tight.
“Stop fighting, Matt. I’m so fucking close …”
He clenches his ass, and I momentarily forget my worries as my cum pumps into him. Aron stills for a second, coming on my stomach and chest, then lifts off of me. I hiss in pain as he kisses me one more time, less gently than before.
“Shit, sorry. I got carried away.”
Carried away? What the hell?
Something has snapped in Aron, and I make mental note to find out exactly what the next time we’re alone.