the entire drive felt like a punishment.

you sat in the passenger seat with your forehead pressed against the cool window, watching italy blur past in streaks of gold and green.

you hated all of it.

"you're going to love it there," your mom said, for probably the hundredth time.

you didn't answer.

"come on, honey."

still nothing.

she sighed. "i know this is a big change."

"a big change?" you finally snapped, turning to look at her. "you met some billionaire and now we're moving across italy to live with him. i have a life, mom."

"his name is william."

"i don't care."

your mom gripped the steering wheel tighter.

the mansion appeared almost twenty minutes later.

of course it was a mansion.

the gates looked like they belonged in a movie. the driveway seemed endless. fountains sat in front of the massive stone house.

you laughed under your breath.

"unbelievable."

"just give it a chance."

you grabbed your bag.

"yeah. sure."

the house seemed even bigger on the inside.

marble floors and high ceilings.

you followed your mom upstairs while some maid carried boxes behind you.

maid.

normal people didn't have maids.

"this is your room."

your jaw almost dropped.

it was bigger than your old apartment.

your mom smiled.

"see?"

you started unpacking.

hours later, your clothes were put away.

your books were stacked.

your posters sat rolled up beside the bed because you weren't even sure you were allowed to put tape on these walls.

by then, your stomach was growling.

you hadn't eaten since morning.

you left your room and wandered downstairs.

it took you embarrassingly long to find the kitchen.

you headed straight for the fridge.

expensive water.

pre-cut fruit.

cheese you'd never heard of.

"these people don't even have a lousy sandwich."

you slammed the door shut and nearly had a heart attack.

"shit."

a boy around your age, maybe older, stood infront of you.

"how about an apple strudel?" he asked.

you glared at him.

"what the hell?"

his eyebrow lifted.

"interesting first impression."

he looked you over for a second.

you didn't like it.

"what?"

he shrugged.

"nothing."

"then stop staring."

something about him irritated you instantly.

maybe it was how he's part of the reason you'd been dragged across the country.

"you live here?" you asked.

"unfortunately."

before you could respond, footsteps echoed through the hallway.

your mom appeared first.

a man beside her.

william, you assumed.

they both smiled immediately.

"there you are," your mom said.

her eyes bounced between the two of you.

"well, i see you two have already met."

the guy beside you sighed.

you looked at him and he looked at you.

"yeah," you said flatly.

"mhm." he mumbled.

"oh, right," your mom said excitedly. "sweetheart, this is chris."

your stomach dropped.

oh, chris.

your stepbrother.

he smirked down at you.

"ill be seeing you around, sorella."

he said before walking off.

oh oh.

⊹ :: summer of sturniolo ! @crystalcider

© 𝟒𝟒𝟒𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒

game days were always a treat to work on. ever since your boss splurged and bought a flat-screen tv, the amount of men crowding the bar skyrocketed. 'football sundays' were no exception—as soon as the afternoon rolled around, mobs of sport fans were swarmed throughout the pub.

the new waitress, sarah, was making steady work of the tables while you hid behind the counter. serving drinks to shouting men always depleted your energy, and despite the early hour of the evening, you were drained. one thing upped your spirits, though. matt had gotten the day off, so the little bet you two had made was going to have to wait for another day.

at least, you thought that was the case. that was until the jingle of the door welcomed in another customer—none other than the deal-maker himself. matt greeted the regulars immediately, holding his charming smile. you grimaced—and not from the smell of the alcohol you were pouring. of course he still came in on his only day off. as you clinked glass into cup, you silently prayed he had forgotten your last conversation.

"so," he slapped the counter in front of you. "got any numbers yet?"

you rolled your eyes. "you weren't actually serious about that, were you?"

"i shoulda known you weren't up for the challenge."

scoffing, you slid a bottle of beer to a man hollering at the screen. "i shoulda known you couldn't stay away from me for a single day."

"please," he huffed. "i'm here to watch the game."

you gave him a look that said, 'sure'.

"plus, i gotta see your desperate attempts at getting some digits, remember?"

"really, tonight?" you dried a glass with a small rag.

"you know what you have to do if you lose." with that, he swiveled around, sinking into the crowd.

now, you were many things—but not somebody who would back down from their word. maybe it was your confidence talking, maybe ego, but you were certain you could complete this bet.

it took a decent amount of time to locate someone young enough. while there was an abundance of middle aged men, you didn't feel comfortable pursuing anyone's dad. when a group of construction workers stepped in the bar—still adorned with their neon vests—you felt like you struck gold. pulling down your shirt to reveal some cleavage, you greeted the man in the front. he was twenty-something, and the classic rough-and-tumble vibe that you always found sexy. smiling, he ordered a drink. god, this was going to be easy.

an hour later, you had racked up a total of three numbers. you had to admit it made you a little anxious, promoting yourself in such a manner. but you'd be damned if matt got his way. confidence was plastered on your face as he walked over to you.

"giving up yet?" he pressed, pulling out a stool.

"you wish."

"i do." he looked around, as if admiring the building. "this place would be so peaceful without you."

"does it get tiring, pretending to hate me?" you quipped, watching him sit down.

"i could ask you the same thing."

"y'know matt, that's the difference between us. i'm not pretending."

hope slipped from you as the night trudged along. appeasing angry football fans became a whole job on its own, leaving you no time to attend to your alternative agenda. of course, you still tended to the radio, putting on condescending songs you hoped matt knew were directed to him. he seemed to—casting you a glare every time the lyrics seemed to pertain to the current situation. eventually, another number was added to your list—leaving you with one last person to flirt with. scanning the pub, you felt almost defeated. having already gotten two construction workers, one book nerd, and a man that was definitely too old for you, there seemed to be no one else acceptable to talk to. when the bell above the door rung, all sense of distress washed from you.

matt strolled in—only it wasn't matt. his hair was different—longer, being held by a backwards cap. he wore a gray shirt, not the black that you knew matt had on minutes ago. your mouth involuntarily fell open, confusion sweeping over you. the guy caught your gaze, and made his way to you, stopping at the counter.

"hi." even his voice was cut from the same velvet.

you tried your best to compose yourself. "you—um… do you know matt?" the question was stupid, but it was all your short-curcuited brain could muster.

he huffed a laugh. "yeah, he's my brother."

"twin?"

"triplet, actually. i'm chris."

"shiiiit." you exclaimed foolishly, but made up for it quickly by giving him your name.

the attractiveness of matt was equal to chris, literally. matching angled features, same perfect teeth, identical piercing azure eyes. god, were their parents supermodels or something?

"so you work here with him, then?" he assumed, looking down the top half of your uniform.

you were suddenly aware of your excessive cleavage. "yeah, for what feels like forever. why haven't i seen you around before?"

"ah, we live together. that's about as much exposure to matt as i need."

you laughed. "yeah, i feel that."

talking with chris was easy, peaceful. a good chance of pace from the usual interactions with his brother. you found yourself feeling more comfortable with him than you should to a stranger. the conversation flowed smoothly, despite you sloshing around drinks a majority of the time. he would laugh at your jokes, and you found him equally as funny. looking at his face even became less strange, and for a while, you forgot about matt altogether.

"so listen, i should go find matt. but maybe i get your number, and we finish this later?" chris's words, of course, reminded you of the bet. this would be the fifth number.

before you could respond, a hand fell on chris's shoulder from behind. "did i hear my name?"

"hey, matt." chris turned to his brother. "i was just gettin' to know your coworker."

you took the opportunity to make a comment. "yeah, who knew you were the evil twin."

matt's brows pulled together. "don't drag my brother into this fucking deal."

"a deal that you made." you retorted, keeping your eyes on him.

chris looked between the two of you, evidently confused. "is someone gonna fill me in or…"

"trust me, she's not someone you wanna get to know." matt growled, hand still firm on his twin's shoulder.

"god, you're so dramatic." you twirled around, reaching to grab a bottle of alcohol from an upper shelf. the container was far too high up for your liking, causing you to balance on your tippie-toes. when matt was the bartender, he could grab these bottles with ease. but he just had to take the busiest night off, leaving you practically needing a stepping stool. having your back to the crowd was never favourable—you had your fair share of nasty remarks thrown at you over the years.

then you heard it—some lewd comment that you didn't catch all the words of. when you turned to the culprit, all you saw was matt's jaw tightening. in a matter of seconds, the room shifted into a frenzy. matt's fist collided with a man's face, causing him to go stumbling backwards. but matt didn't stop there. gasps inhaled from the mouth's of people surrounding as they cleared a circle. he struck the man again, leaving a bloodied mark on his upper lip. you wanted to avert your eyes from the scene, but it was possible. he forced the man to the floor, bashing his face with compacted fists. chris got up from his stool, flustered, as you circled around the bartop. brows curled upwards in submission, arms outstretched towards matt's chest, the man was struggling to fight back. he managed to get a single good hit to matt's face, and panicked screams encased the area as his face became increasingly bloodied. even though matt was the one being hit, you felt like the wind had been knocked from you. your vision blurred as you yelled to him.

"matt! he's already down! leave it!" your cries were dampened by the hysteria.

chris managed to pull him to his feet, tugging at the fabric of his shirt from behind. matt turned to you, his pupils wide with adrenaline. panting, he shoved past the gathering crowd, disappearing into the kitchen. chris turned to follow him, until you planted a palm to his chest.

"let me. please."

pushing open the door, you find matt. he's hovered over the industrial sink, water running down his bruised knuckles.

"don't." he warns.

"i wasn't going to say anything." you open a drawer, pulling out a rag.

stepping over to him cautiously, you bring the cloth to the flowing stream. warm water soaks into the fabric as you maintain your distance. you weren't scared of him, exactly, just aware enough to give him space.

"come on. let's go to the back." you say, holding the sopping rag.

matt replies with a low groan as he tags along behind you.

'the back' was a small space, designated only for the workers. equipped with a fridge, coach, and table, it acted as a mini apartment. at first it was just a break-room for when the freezing winters prohibited smoking outside. but eventually it turned into a place where the staff would come to get a breather. you assumed that's what matt needed right now—a breather. the overhead light's incessant flicker wasn't going to improve the tense mood, so you turned on the lamp as matt lowered himself to the sofa. his panting hadn't completely died down, so when you sat, you made sure it was a cushion away from him.

"so… what was that about?" you tried to keep your tone as neutral as possible.

"you said you weren't going to say anything." he glared.

inching closer to him, you gingerly brought the cloth to his face. matt had one foot on the floor, one folded flat to the coach, angling towards you. you had both of your knees on the sofa, fully facing him as you dragged the fabric down his cheek.

he winced, sucking air through his bared teeth. "guess you—fuck—got the job in the bag now."

continuing to clean his wound, you tilted your head. "what do you mean?"

"the manager position. when marcus finds out about this i'm fired."

"how would he find out?"

his eyes flitted between both of yours. "you're not gonna tell him?"

you stared at the blood collecting on the rag. "seems to me this is punishment enough."

for the first time, you realized how close you were to eachother. as you were cleaning his abrasion, you had been subconsciously leaning into him. he seemed to have calmed in the intimacy, giving you means to ask a question.

"why'd you hit him like that?"

"you didn't hear the things he was saying about you." he spoke the words slowly, as if it pained him to force them out.

"my knight in shining armor." you let the sarcasm drip off your tongue.

his eyes rolled. "just because i don't like you doesn't mean some guy can treat you like an object. i'm a dick, not evil."

"at least you're self aware."

genuine laughter spilled from his throat, contagiously spreading to you. shifting your body away from matt, you got up. still giggling, you quickly dipped into the kitchen. when you returned, you held a brown rectangular container.

you sat back in front of him, the same position you had been in previously. "alright… this is going to sting, okay?"

sloshing the clear liquid onto a q-tip, you brought it to his injury. when it touched his skin, he recoiled to the bolster of the couch.

"you really know how to ruin a good moment."

"stay still." you dragged the alcohol over his skin.

"god—what the fuck is that?"

"hydrogen peroxide. that guy got you pretty good, don't want it getting infected."

"it was a lucky swing." he grumbled, flexing his bruised knuckles.

peroxide bubbled against his wound as you swirled the q-tip carefully. leaning closer, your eyes stayed firm on his beaten cheek. you had to admit that this was better than all the arguing. it was almost pleasant—hearing his softened voice as the two of you became gradually more near. you were used to the boisterousness, the mockery, the smile that spread across matt's face when he said something clever. but even though condescension still lapped his voice, there now seemed to be a different undertone. and as much as you hated him, seeing him in pain made your chest ache.

"I just need to get my mind off of it." his volume was low, just shy of a whisper.

"o-okay—how?" you pulled the alcohol away from his skin.

"y'know…i did it for you."

"i'm not going to thank you."

"that's not what i want." he grumbled, as if it were obvious.

"then what do you want, matt?

"stay still." he repeated your previously said words, his hand hesitating as he brought it to your face.

matt's hands were rough, but somehow it felt like silk as his fingers cupped your jaw. thumping pounded in your ears, heartbeat so loud that you wondered if he could hear it. his eyes narrowed, chestnut hair falling over them as he tilted his head. he leaned in further, intensifying the erratic drumming.

"what are you—"

"i said stay fucking still." he warned, lips close enough to yours that you could feel the vibration of his words.

before you could think, he captured your lips with his own. there was nothing soft, shy, or cautious about the way he moved against you. taking you against him, he pressed your back to the plush cushions, craning over your body. he kissed you like a contradiction, passion and hate spun together as he deepened the embrace. your tongues moved together in messy synchronicity—a disordered, perfect pace being set.

"this means nothing." he breathed into your mouth, hand sliding to hold your upper throat.

you tilted your neck up at his grasp. "i hate you."

your teeth clashed against one another as a smirk grew on his face. moving down to your neck, he nipped at the skin, leaving you marked with his disdain. "i hate you too."

sounds escaped your throat as you arched into him, smiles eliciting from his mouth. you saw the condescension-riddled expression in your mind's eye—the thought making you want to push him away and pull him closer at the same time. the metal of his belt buckle dug into your thigh as he lowered further, lips attaching onto the skin of your exposed bust. without thinking, you raised your arms, signaling him to take off your shirt. gripping the hem, he pulled it over your head. lifting your back up, he took the indication to work at the clasp of your bra from behind. your bare chest sprung from the garment, leaving your top half naked before him.

"fuck." he breathed, propping up on his knees to unbuckle his belt.

while he was doing so, you wriggled your bottoms and panties down your legs. your mouth fell slack as you watched his boxers slip from his waist. his cock sprung to his stomach, the hard length beaded with pre-cum. pumping himself, he took hold of one of your breasts, kneading it in his palm. your nipples hardened under his touch, leaving your core feeling achingly empty. he saw the struggle in your eyes—and wanted nothing more than to see you suffer.

"needy girl." he scolded, sliding his tip down your glistening folds.

"fuck you." your retort came out broken as he circled your clit with his dick.

a grin tugged at his lip as he stared down at you—flushed, bare, and laced with loathing.

"your pussy is so wet for me." he mutters, both of your arousals mixing as he slips his tip inside of you.

you can't help but gasp as your pussy begs for more—clenching at the inch of his cock he had given you. matt's confidence only grew as you crumbled beneath him, and he watched where your bodies connected while sliding himself further into your walls.

"f-fuck you're so—" you cut yourself off, refusing to feed his ego.

he canted back down to you, your boobs pressing against his chest as his lips came to your ear.

"use your words." he condescended, keeping his length halfway inside you.

even being so vulnerable, you wouldn't let yourself give him what he wanted.

"use your words and i'll let you have the rest." his voice was deep, and rasped with a need for you.

the sensation of your nipples pushed to his chest broke you. "you're so big, matt."

with no warning, he bottomed out. his dick thrashed against your g-spot with perfect precision, a choked moan escaping your throat. holding onto his back, his mouth stayed at your collarbone, licking and sucking at the skin.

"that wasn't so hard, was it?" his patrinizing words fueled both your rage and your lust.

"god I fucking—" his thumb began circling your clit, ending your sentence.

"hate me?" he guessed, quickening his pace on your bud.

he raised from your chest, one hand holding your boob like a handle as the other aided your stimulation. thrusting into you at the perfect angle, no coherent words could come from your mouth. panted moans and the wet sound of skin on skin filled the room, the two of you not holding back. his balls slapped to your ass as his rhythm became impossibly more rapid.

everything about him—his tousled brunette hair, the mark of blood on his cheek, his lips puff from kissing you—it all worked to coil your orgasm. you whimpered—head bowing to the sky in a broken prayer.

"gripping me so good—shit—don't know if i can pull out." his groans were shaky as he neared his release.

you tried desperately to grab onto something—anything—the fabric of the couch, matt's arms, his back. "cum in me."

"yeah? you want me to fill you up?" he panted, pumping into you with perfect, messy strokes.

erratic moans spilled from your lips as you clenched around his cock. your orgasm washed over you, spreading goosebumps throughout your body. he gasped, the feeling of you around him pushing him to his climax. his cum shot through you, filling your depths with the heat of his hatred. buried in your pussy, he felt your walls milking every last drop.

"yo, are you guys in there? sarah let me in the kitchen." the voice brought the two of you back to reality.

"chris." you whispered in sync, as the knocking continued.

a/n ☕️: this is based on the comment that chris said about matt being the type to “beat you when you’re down”. guyyysss idk i think it’s hot SUE ME. (if you got the reference, you get a cookie) 🍪

also, this was the first fic i’ve done without nails. WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME HOW EASY IT IS TO TYPE WHEN YOU DONT HAVE XL COFFIN NAILS.