Chapter 19 - Alexei
Marco’s mother stood there in an apron dusted with flour. Her tired eyes lit up the moment she saw us. She looked exactly as I remembered.
“Marco! Tesoro, you’re home!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug before her gaze shifted to me. It softened even further, brightening with something close to delight.
“And Alexei! You came! I was hoping you would. Come in, come in, both of you. Dinner is almost ready.”
I slipped the mask into place, the charming, polite smile that had disarmed people. It was warm, respectful, the perfect picture of a devoted boyfriend who was grateful to be invited into the family home.
“Thank you for having me, ma’am,” I said smoothly. “It’s very kind of you.”
She waved a hand, already ushering us inside. “None of that ‘ma’am’ nonsense. Call me Elena. Or Mama, if you’re comfortable. You’re family now, sì?”
I didn’t correct her. I simply inclined my head and let her guide us through the small entryway. The house smelled like garlic and fresh bread and something sweet.
Marco stayed close to my side, his hand still in mine until his mother gently pried him away for another quick hug. I let him go without protest, watching the way his shoulders relaxed just a fraction in her arms. Elena led us into the dining room.
At the head of the table sat Marco’s father, a solid-looking man with kind eyes and a newspaper folded beside his plate. He stood the moment we entered, wiping his hands on a napkin before extending one toward me with a genuine smile.
“Alexei, right? Pleasure to meet you properly, son,” he said, his handshake firm but friendly. “Elena has been talking about you since you came by last time. Says you’ve been good for our boy. I’m Marco’s father. Call me Giovanni.”
I shook his hand with the same polished charm, meeting his eyes directly. “The pleasure is mine, sir. Your son speaks very highly of his family.”
Giovanni chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder once before sitting back down. “Good man. Sit, sit. Make yourself at home.”
Elena was already bustling around the table, pulling out chairs. “Here, Alexei, you sit here. Marco, next to him. Luca, move over a little.”
That was when I noticed the boy at the far end of the table.
Luca.
Marco’s younger brother. He just sat there, arms crossed, staring like he was going to stab me. I think he wanted to.
I knew he was mute so I didn’t expect words. But the glare spoke volumes. Protective. Suspicious. He didn’t like me. Not even a little.
Interesting.
I met his gaze evenly for a beat, letting just a flicker of my real self show through the mask - cold, assessing - before the polite smile returned.
Elena either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it, already guiding Marco into the seat beside mine. “There we go. You two sit together.”
Marco slid into the chair next to me without protest, close enough that our knees brushed under the table. I felt the faint tremor still running through him and rested my hand lightly on his thigh beneath the tablecloth, squeezing once in reassurance. Or warning.
I took my seat, the picture of the perfect guest. “Everything smells wonderful, Elena. Thank you again for inviting me.”
Giovanni nodded approvingly from across the table. “We’re happy to have you.”
Elena beamed as she sat down, already serving pasta onto plates. “Exactly. You seem very serious about our Marco. That’s important. He’s a good boy, but he worries too much. You’ll take care of him, yes?”
“Of course. He’s very important to me.”
Under the table, my fingers traced a circle on Marco’s thigh. I could feel the heat of his blush without even looking at him.
Across the table, Luca’s glare hadn’t softened one bit. If anything, it had intensified, his eyes flicking between me and his brother like he was cataloging every point of contact.
Infiltrating Marco’s family had been a good idea. The dinner had gone exactly as I planned. They trusted me now. Welcomed me. It made everything that followed so much easier. Marco could no longer hide. I had already embedded myself too deeply.
***
A few days later, I picked him up at the end of the day to drive him home like usual. I pulled away from the curb and took the turn that led away from his neighborhood instead of toward it.
Marco noticed immediately.
He shifted in his seat, glancing out the window as the familiar streets disappeared behind us. “Alexei… this isn’t the way to my house.”
I kept my eyes on the road, one hand resting on the gear shift. “I know.”
He turned to look at me fully. “Where are we going?”
“My place.”
His eyes widened. I caught the exact moment the words registered, his lips parting, color draining from his face before rushing back in a vivid flush.
“W-why?” he stammered, voice cracking. “You can’t—my parents will worry. They will—”
“I already talked to your mother,” I said calmly. “She’s fine with you staying over tonight.”
I could hear the way his breathing quickened.
“Staying over?” he repeated, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Why am I staying over? I didn’t pack anything—”
“She knows you’re with me,” I cut in, smoother. “She trusts me to take care of you.”
I glanced at him then, letting him see the truth in my eyes.
“I’m no longer satisfied with only seeing you at the academy,” I continued. “I want you in my space.”
His hands twisted in his lap.
“But… but I—”
I pressed down on the accelerator, the engine responding instantly as the car surged forward.
When we finally pulled into the underground garage beneath the building, I killed the engine and looked over at him.
“Come.”
He followed without argument, though his steps were hesitant as we rode the private elevator up to the top floor.
The space was exactly how I liked it. Black marble floors gleamed under the lighting. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, broken only by large abstract pieces of art in deep reds and golds. Marco stopped just inside the entrance.
His eyes went wide as he slowly turned in a circle, taking it all in.
I watched the way his gaze lingered on the massive chandelier made of black crystal, the way his mouth parted slightly when he noticed the grand piano in the corner that I never played but kept because it looked right.
It was obvious he had never stepped foot in a place like this before.
He looked almost lost.
He snapped out of it suddenly.
“W-why…” he stammered, voice small. “What are we going to do?”
I stepped closer, closing the distance until I was looming over him the way I liked. My hand came up to brush a stray curl behind his ear.
“Study, of course,” I said smoothly. “Or did you forget your job?”
He blinked up at me, still flustered.
I tilted my head. “You have to teach me some more Italian, little star. That was the arrangement, wasn’t it?”
Marco nodded quickly. “Y-yeah… right. The job.”
I took his hand again and led him deeper into the apartment. Past the living area, down a short hallway, and into the open study space that connected to the dining room.
I pulled out a chair for him.
“Sit.”
I watched him settle in, pleased by how naturally he fit into the scene.
I took the seat beside him instead of across.
He cleared his throat as he began.
“Buonasera,” he started. “That means good evening.”
I hummed, watching the way his lips formed the words. “Again.”
He repeated it, a little more confident this time. I let him go on for a while - useful phrases, ones that could actually be used in conversation. He taught me how to ask for directions, how to order food, how to say thank you properly. His voice was gentle, a little nervous, but he was trying.
After about twenty minutes of actual teaching, I leaned in closer.
“How do you say ‘I want to fuck you’?”
Marco’s pen froze. His entire face went scarlet in an instant. He shook his head quickly, curls bouncing.
“I… I… um, not saying that,” he stammered. “That isn’t…that isn’t useful Italian. That isn’t what we’re supposed to be doing.”
I watched him for a long moment, eyes tracing the way he refused to meet my gaze. Then I hummed.
He looked wary after that, shoulders tense, but he eventually went back to the notebook.
He stood up after a few minutes, apparently deciding he needed to move while he recited. Notebook in hand, he began pacing slowly back and forth in front of the table. The space was large enough that he had room.
I stopped listening.
My eyes followed him instead.
The way his hips swayed slightly with each step. The way his shirt pulled across his back when he gestured with one hand. The way his curls fell into his eyes and he had to brush them back. My control thinned with every pass he made in front of me.
He was still talking, something about verb conjugations or polite requests. I didn’t care anymore. His voice was soft and focused, but all I could see was the way his body moved.
I lost it.
I crossed the space between us, grabbed him by the waist, and spun him around.
He made a startled sound as I bent him forward over the table, his notebook and pens scattering across the surface.
One of my hands pressed between his shoulder blades, keeping him down.
The other gripped his hip, fingers digging in possessively.
“Alexei—” he started, voice muffled against the table.
I leaned over him, chest brushing his back, mouth close to his ear.
“Enough studying,” I murmured, voice rough. “I’ve decided I learn better with practical application.”
My hips rolled forward, grinding the hard line of my cock right against the cleft of his ass so he could feel every inch of it through my pants.
“Feel that?” I murmured. “That’s what you do to me, little star. You made me this hard without even trying.”
Marco whimpered, fingers tightening on the edge of the table.
I reached around and undid his pants, dragging the zipper down. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of both his pants and underwear and yanked them down in one motion, baring his ass completely.
I ran both hands over the newly exposed skin. “This ass was made to be bent over and used.”