#masterzobation

He smiles fondly as he remembers Primo's words on presenting it to him: 'Have care. This particular spirit is stronger than you may think, fratellino...'

He remembers how he'd waved it off, chuckling at his younger self's arrogance. However much he didn't want to admit it, the fact that his older brother had deigned to even make something for him warmed his heart a little, even now.

The memories from the after-party of the first show were a blur, a spear of pain burning through his temples even now as he tries to recall.

He reaches out, picking up the bottle and wiping away two decades of age, before locating a glass. For old times sake. If he was going to partake, he wanted to do this properly.

He strips off, dressing in a deep plum silk robe. He takes a moment to enjoy the sensation of the delicate material whispering over his skin before settling in front of the fire.

Reclining into the leather of the couch, he braves his first sip. The taste is certainly acquired, and stronger than he remembers. Probably the age, he muses as he holds the glass up to dancing flames, considering it.

His head already feels light, his thoughts nothing more than wisps of cloud, as he swallows another mouthful. The warmth from the fire sinks under his skin, pooling pleasantly between his legs. He glances down and chuckles wryly at the sight of his arousal tenting impressively through the silk.

Spreading his thighs apart, he catches sight of his debauched reflection in the mirror inlaid next to the fire. His skin is lightly flushed, a sheen of sweat building over his chest and stomach.

Pulling aside damp silk, he gives himself an experimental stroke, breath shuddering as his thumb presses over the sensitive head of his cock. He drains the remainder of the liquor before setting the glass aside.

No sense rushing things.

He begins at an almost teasing pace, allowing precum to pool before slicking it down his length. Imagining a nameless spectre in front of him, mouth open and willing. Eyes rolling shut, his head falls back onto the couch as his toes curl into the soft pile of the rug.

He barely notices the green glow behind his closed eyes, pays no mind to the sensation of eyes on him. Just your imagination. Close, so close.

'Open your eyes.'

His whole body jolts as he hears the soft whisper from the shadows. Swearing violently, he tries to move, but the alcohol has taken hold, invisible hands weighing him down. The voice comes again, laced with annoyance.

'Calmati, old man. I must have just taken a wrong turn on my way to the-'

Terzo groans, wiping a hand shakily over his face as he tries to protect his modesty as best he can.

'Just. Get out. Per favore.'

A few non-too-complimentary words are muttered in rapid-fire Italian as Terzo watches the shadows coalesce into a figure.

His breath catches as the figment steps out of the shadows, the svelte silhouette all too familiar. He blinks, trying to clear vision fogged by memories, lust and Absinthe.

That cocky grin, one that he'd seen looking back at him in the mirror on untold occasions, now stared back him from a few metres away. It didn't seem possible, but standing in front of him, as solid as anything, was... himself.

But decades younger, his smirk achingly self-assured, brushing invisible crumbs from his sleeves, face paint crisp and irritatingly smooth. Brushing stray tendrils of hair out of his face, the younger man laughs in disbelief.

'So this is what the old man meant,' he scoffs to nobody in particular as he closes in, spotting the empty glass and half-full decanter, 'fucking Primo and his secret recipes...'

Elder lets the younger man babble for a moment as he collects his thoughts. He wasn't ready for whatever this was. He could barely bring himself to meet... his own eyes, choosing to fixate on his counterpart's silk-covered shoulder. Terrified by what he would see, a secret still buried deep under layers of practiced self-assuredness.

He knew it would be there; from the outfit Younger was wearing, he could pinpoint exactly when this apparent apparition had manifested from. No wonder he had no memory of that night. Swallowing hard, the effects of the alcohol having long since dissipated, he forces himself to look.

A pang of envy stabs into his gut as he follows sumptuous silk draped over a slim frame; every inch of clothing made to measure, to fit just so. Everything perfect, everything neat and in its proper place; begging to be corrupted.

An unexpected, but not unwelcome pulse of heat pools anew between his thighs as he remembers the sinfully beautiful body that lies beneath. His gaze flits upwards to a sly and knowing smile; remembering who exactly he's staring at, Elder straightens up.

Unwilling to look his younger self in the eyes, yet apparently just as unwilling to look away, he blindly gropes for a cushion to hide himself. Either the bulge of his stomach, or the swell of his cock, his pride didn't care which at this point.

With a slow, indulgent smile, Younger reaches over, plucking a velvet burgundy cushion that was just out of Elder's reach. Bending forwards, he holds it teasingly in front of his face between forefinger and thumb.

'Looking for this, old man?'

The humiliation is unbearable, as Elder catches sight of himself in the burnished mirror over his counterpart's shoulder. A light pink blush that he could blame on the after-effects of the alcohol decorates the lower part of his face and neck, slowly creeping down under the deep v-line of his robe.

'Smettila!' Elder spits. 'You're just a figment- that damned Absinthe. I knew I couldn't trust Primo with making it ri- fuck!'

In the midst of his griping, Elder hadn't noticed Younger shift closer. Lifting a leg, he grins; teasing the older man's aching cock with the tip of his polished shoe.

'D'you think a mere figment could do this, cuore?' Younger breathes wickedly, initially delighting in the way Elder squirms.

However, as he presses forward into the older man's space, Younger notices how Elder's eyes screw shut. He watches in confusion as the older man's body curls in on itself; as if he's trying to make himself appear smaller.

Younger pauses, eyes widening imperceptibly as he realises the reason for the older man's discomfort.

Pulling away, the younger man kneels before him as Elder snatches the cushion back, holding it over as much of the swell of his stomach as he can. His heart splinters in his chest as Elder sighs deeply, breath catching on a slight sob.

Younger frowns sadly, before taking Elder's bare hand between his gloved ones. He is momentarily captivated by it, admiring a broad palm; olive skin softened and blessed with age.

'Perdonami,' Younger murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of Elder's hand and feeling his pulse jump under his fingers, 'I didn't realise-'

'Don't,' Elder smiles softly, finally meeting the younger man's eyes properly, 'I just... wish I could've been more impressive to you than- than this.'

Younger feels his stomach flip as moss-green and pale white eyes meet his own. This was the part of him he'd tried so long to hide, the vulnerability buried under bullish bravado and boyish charm.

The years had softened his older counterpart, bringing with it wisdom and patience; some acceptance of his flaws. But still, that slight uncertainty remained; the innate need to be seen and appreciated for who he truly was.

Time seems to ache as Elder loses himself in the younger man's eyes. Chuckling ruefully to himself, the irony of falling under his own spell is not lost on him, as he takes a grounding breath.

Younger shifts, reaching wordlessly for the cushion again. Elder lets him take it, swallowing hard as he tries to fight the instinct to shrink away.

Younger's smile widens as he takes him in, and the older man realises his bravery has paid off. Not-so-subtly adjusting himself in his pants, Younger shuffles forwards, enjoying the heat now surrounding him.

'Let me see you, Papa,' Younger murmurs lowly as his hands drop to the cushion of Elder's thighs, massaging slow circles with his thumbs, 'all of you. May I?'

Elder jolts at the use of his old title, but Younger sees how his cock twitches anew under the drape of his robe, precum soaking into the thin fabric. With renewed confidence, Elder lets the younger man tug at the silken tie of his robe. Parting his legs, he allows the material to fall away as he bares himself to his own scrutiny.

Younger's mouth goes dry, and he didn't think it was possible to be more turned on than he was in that moment. The older man had done the impossible: rendered himself speechless.

Candlelight flickers over the dips and curves of Elder's torso, and Younger has to ball his hands into fists with how he aches to explore every valley with his fingers.

Soft, thickly layered hair covers the swell of his chest; deep chestnut shot through with precious strands of silver. Platinum nipple piercings shimmer in the low light, capturing dancing flames within. A low sigh pulls his gaze further up, and Younger's heart leaps at the sight.

The older man bathes in the flickering candlelight, dark waves floating wildly around his handsome face and cascading over his shoulders. His smile is serene as he gives himself over to his younger counterpart's worship.

Every bit the fallen angel; truly blessed by the Old One himself.

The younger man swallows hard as he follows a slim trail of hair over the cushion of Elder's stomach and further down. He'd seen the outline of his prize through silk, the direct mirror of his own need. The sight of his own cock, nearly scarlet and leaking mere centimetres from his face, almost becomes his undoing.

How could he not find himself impressive?

Not for the first time was he thankful that his trousers had enough space to mask his own sizeable need. Squeezing his thighs together, he shuffles forwards; testing the waters with a tentative kitten lick over Elder's slit.

The effect is near-instantaneous. With a growl, Elder's broad hand wraps around the base of his skull, barely giving the younger man time to nod eagerly before thrusting forwards. Younger gags slightly at the sudden but welcome intrusion, clasping onto the width of the older man's hips as he bottoms out.

Elder moves to pull out, but he's stopped by a muffled uh uh from the man beneath him, nails digging into the meat of his waist. Younger looks up at him, eyes sparkling mischievously as his tongue explores every inch of the older man.

Elder groans, not wanting to look away as Younger's cheeks hollow out, saliva dripping obscenely onto Elder's balls as the younger man pledges his fealty.

'Little- shit-' Elder grits out, feeling the telltale pressure already beginning to build between his hips. Younger lets out a low hum as he takes the older man even deeper, burying his nose against where Elder's scent is the richest and inhaling.

A challenge.

A graze of teeth and an almost angelic look from under dark lashes is enough to undo him. Crying out, Elder feels his cock pulse, spilling his desire down the younger man's willing throat.

Barely able to keep up with the amount of spend saturating his mouth, Younger splutters slightly, before pulling away. A few feeble spurts land on the inky black of his paint, a blasphemous constellation gliding down his face.

Breathless and boneless, Elder slumps back onto the couch, feeling like his soul had disappeared down Younger's throat. Chuckling ruefully to himself, he looks down at the man still kneeling, still eager in front of him. The sight is too much. His younger self gazes up at Elder like he'd laid the heavens.

'Is everything alright, angelo mio? You- you are going to be my ruin, do you realise?'

Younger pauses for a moment, considering the question, before slowly sticking out his tongue. Elder's unholy communion glistens sinfully against the pink of the soft muscle, the perfect image of defilement.

The older man groans at the debauched sight, cock twitching through the ghost of another orgasm. Younger makes a deliberate show of catching the stray pearlescent drops leaking down his cheek on a gold-tipped finger, lifting it to his lips.

Elder watches Younger's Adams apple bob as he swallows the remains of the older man's release, the dancing candles shimmering jewel-bright in his eyes.

'Now do you believe me, old man?' Younger smirks wickedly, running sharp pinpricks up Elder's thighs as he stands. 'Do you see what you do?'

The strain of his clothed cock is at Elder's eye level, and it's all the older man can do to not lunge off the couch towards him. Instead he waits, eyes fluttering closed as he feels the couch dip next to him.

Lithe legs trap his ample waist as greedy hands tug him backwards to rest his head on Younger's shoulder. 'Open your eyes, amore,' Younger purrs against the shell of his ear, 'look at yourself. See what I see.'

He does, and it feels like the world has stopped. Younger meets his eyes in the silver of the mirror, his smile self-satisfied and more than a little insatiable. All his imperfections seem unimportant as he loses himself in the depths of his own eyes.

No longer hidden; brought back into the light at last.

So enamoured is he by the vision in front of him, he barely notices Younger sliding the robe off his shoulders. The soft slide of silk is chased by the cool scratch of golden nails. Almost without thinking, Elder arches upwards, chasing the pain.

'That's it...' the younger man murmurs against the damp skin of his neck as his hands begin to explore, 'let me show you what true worship feels like.'

If Elder wasn't so turned on, he would've laughed aloud. Such arrogance. But the noise changes in his throat as sharp nailtips tease over the piercings threaded through his nipples, the burn of pleasure-pain filling his cock once more.

Hot kisses trail downwards over the thundering pulse in his neck before sharp teeth press into the hollow of his shoulder. At the same time, self-sure hands wrap around the meat of his hips, nails tracing the silvered stretchmarks of his lower stomach.

Younger smirks against the older man's abused skin, blowing a soft puff of air over the rapidly purpling mark.

'Perfetto,' he whispers, a single finger teasing down Elder's hardening length, as if blessing every raised vein, 'how I wish you could see yourself as I do. Simply beautiful. That innate beauty clearly doesn't change with age, ovviamente.'

Elder makes a noise of dissent in his throat, and Younger's eyebrows knit together as he reaches up with his free hand, turning Elder's head and forcing him to meet his eyes properly.

'You disagree? But is it not insulting to me to not adore this sinful body, the one that I gave to you, that I give to you so willingly?'

Surprising the older man with his strength, Younger pulls him further between muscular thighs, deliberately rolling his hips and letting Elder feel the need pulsing between his legs. At the same time, slim fingers wrap around the base of Elder's cock.

'This,' he murmurs against Elder's lips between long, lazy movements of his wrist and gentle rocks of his hips, 'this, right here, is what you do to me. And I can feel what I do to you; your body gives you away all too easily, cucciolo. Now, are you going to do something about it, or not?'

'Che cazzo...' Elder mutters to himself as his mind begins to fog, renewed lust setting him alight. He remembers this cockiness all too well. This little shit.

And yet, he still burns for adoration, yearns to be seen once again, like he used to be. Like he is; right here, right now. Unseen, Younger reaches around, grasping the bottle of Absinthe and taking a generous swallow.

'That's it,' he breathes, leaning down to nip lightly at the older man's lower lip, chasing each breathless gasp with his tongue, 'I have you. Let go.'

At this, the younger man lowers his head, pouring all of his adoration, all of his worship, all of his need into a deep and passionate kiss. Moaning into his counterpart's mouth, the taste of Absinthe fresh on his lips, Elder feels himself cum again under the languid movements of leather against sensitive flesh.

But this time is different; his orgasm comes gently, like waves on a shore. Heat spreads gently under his skin, and it feels like time has stopped. Elder allows himself to drown in the sensation, lost in their own blissful cocoon. He whimpers softly as the last throes of his release fade away.

Pulling back to look at the younger man, Elder catches a look of uncertainty flickering briefly in the eyes he knew too well.

'What is it?' Younger blinks suddenly, shaking his head sharply.

'Niente. I just-'

Elder rests his hand gently on the younger man's cheek as their foreheads rest together. His heart aches at the indecision in Younger's eyes; yet at the same time, part of him is proud.

He's learning that he can be vulnerable... that he's allowed to show his emotions.

'I have an idea,' the older man murmurs around another languid kiss, 'but it means you'll have to trust me. Can you do that?'

Biting his lip, Younger hesitates before nodding. With a wolfish smirk, Elder pulls back.

'You need to learn to trust more, cucciolo,' he purrs, his skin still tingling from his release, 'and who better to trust in... than yourself?'

Elder glances across, watching Younger's eyes in the reflection of the mirror, an unspoken internal battle raging that he knew all too well. Swallowing resolutely, the asserting nod is surprisingly, refreshingly uncertain, his previous cockiness already beginning to slip.

Taking this as his cue, Elder stands, wincing slightly at the twinge in his knees. Taking Younger's hand in his, he smiles wistfully at how small the hand feels nestled in his broad palm, how delicate. He pulls the bottle out of the younger man's grasp, setting it gently aside.

Grasping each wrist in turn, Elder gently slides off the soiled leather of his counterparts gloves. The final barrier between their bare skin peels away, falling whisper-quiet to the floor.

He waits.

Younger is uncharacteristically quiet as he raises his palms level with Elder's chest, hovering a half-inch away. He feels the heat radiating from the older man's skin. The gentle thud of life, his life, flutters unbroken and untainted in the vein in Elder's neck.

How the younger man longs for more; to take, to truly become his own master. And yet, something in Elder's eyes has him take pause; a gentleness in him that he hadn't seen in his own reflection before.

His breath catches in his throat, and the older man smiles, knowingly. And that's what breaks him.

Greedily grasping hands wrap around Elder's neck, pulling their lips together in another searing kiss. And oh how he groans as he feels Elder's tongue slip into his mouth, drinking the sinful sounds from paint-smeared lips. Elder's hands drop to his waist, thick fingers curling around slim hips, pulling their bodies flush together as they stagger back towards the bed.

How well we fit.

Electricity surges through Younger's body when he realises Elder is hard yet again, hard against him, and his knees almost buckle, his desire thundering in his ears.

Greedy fingers fumble with his zipper, and Elder laughs into the kiss, murmuring his pride against Younger's ruined mouth. Eager teeth nip at his neck as Younger successfully frees his cock from its confines, pressing himself hungrily against Elder's soft thigh.

Elder pulls away suddenly, a familiar wicked smile curling lips smeared with grey. Younger grunts in annoyance, with an admittedly adorable pout.

Elder grins wolfishly, lust swirling uncontrollably in his gut at the sight. I really was insatiable.

'I don't think so, bello...' Elder breathes, reaching over to where his robe is crumpled on the sofa. Fumbling at the tie of his robe to free it, he turns back to the younger man.

'Learn the beauty of delayed gratification, cuore. Patience.'

Younger stops for a moment. A shudder passes through him, rippling under his skin. It's so tangible, Elder feels the transformation himself as it happens. Matching eyes meet his; less uncertain, steadier.

There you are.

He reaches out, tugging the strip from Elder's hand and folding it, before placing it flat against his eyes and tying it firmly around the back of his head.

'I trust you, caro. I trust myself.'

'Bene, amore. Very good. Now... come here to me. Follow the sound of my voice.'

Younger takes an experimental half-step forwards; on the second step, wide hands pull him down to straddle plush thighs. A thumb toys with the younger man's lower lip, opening his mouth gently, and he allows it. He feels the warm press of Elder's mouth sealing around his.

Anticipating what comes next, Younger whimpers softly, pressing himself hard against Elder's body as the bitterness of Absinthe pours down his throat. The warmth of his counterpart's tongue laps softly over his teeth, as if to follow the taste.

All the while, sure hands make short work of his buttons, Elder's head lowering to chase every inch of bared skin with tender kisses and light grazes of teeth. Younger cries out as a warm mouth closes around a pebbled nipple, tongue playing with the platinum bar threaded through it.

Even without Elder touching him properly, Younger feels stripped bare; knows how it feels to be truly seen for the first time in a long time. He doesn't notice the tears falling behind the blindfold until Elder is gently kissing them away, murmuring sweetly against damp skin.

It was then he feels it; the final shard of uncertainty pressing against his heart dissipates; his resistance falling under every kiss and every caress, until he just needs. Needs to be possessed, to be loved for who he really was.

And for the first time, his future had never felt so bright.

Everything about him is so soft; less anger, less arrogance, more patience. I'm glad I become this... that I become him. Even though I don't know that I deserve it yet.

The movement of Elder's body under him brings him back to himself. A wide palm and thick fingers wrap around his aching cock and Younger whimpers as he feels the searing heat and delicious friction of Elder's length press against his.

They've barely begun to move, and Younger is close already, every nerve-ending blazing with ecstasy. Lights twinkle behind his eyes as the flames within him change tempo, threatening to burn out of control and take them both under with it.

'Cazzo! 'm not gonna... not gonna last. Please let me- please!'

'Calmati, cucciolo. You've done so- fuck, so well... come for me-!'

Younger's orgasm slams into him like a freight train as waves of white-hot pleasure explode over him. Collapsing forwards, he cries his ecstasy into the sweat-slick skin of Elder's neck.

'Fuck, thats it Papa, I've got you... oh shit- fuck-'

The older man tenses as his head falls back, their combined spend spurting over his fist and painting their chests. Younger relaxes into him, mouthing weak kisses over his collarbone as their afterglow washes over them.

Leaning shakily back on his elbows, Elder admires the sight above him for a moment. His counterpart is a beautiful mess; salmon pink flush peeking through gaps in ruined paint. Loose tendrils of neatly coiffed hair fall into his face as he scrabbles for Elder's hands, twining slim fingers with thick to ground himself.

Elder smiles softly as he watches, rubbing a calming thumb over Younger's knuckles. When he's sure he's relaxed enough, he extricates his fingers, swiping the index through the combined mess dripping down the younger man's torso. He grins wickedly as lithe muscles quiver under his touch, his own title catching on a whimper.

'Exquisite,' he hums around his finger, making sure Younger hears how delicious their combined sin tastes. He watches as Younger reacts to the slick sound of his finger exploring his mouth, feeling sharp crescents of nails digging into the thick flesh of his hips.

'Fu-uck, you're such a tease, old man.'

Groaning lowly and grinning, Elder fucks his fingers down his throat, savouring himself thoroughly before releasing them with a lascivious pop.

Before he can sit up properly, Younger moves with uncharacteristic decisiveness, shoving broad shoulders down onto the mattress and bracketing Elder's head between muscular thighs.

Elder's reaction is instinctive; leaning upwards, his tongue finds the spot that he knows will drive his younger counterpart wild. Scooping him forwards, he begins teasing the younger man's hole, laughing softly as he feels the ring of muscle quiver, Younger's cries of pleasure pouring into the air.

'Oh c- fuck, fuck, fuck!'

Fingers tighten in his hair, almost painfully so as Younger grinds on his face, trying as best he can to fuck himself down onto Elder's tongue. Gently, the older man snakes a hand between Younger's thighs, easing a thick finger inside him.

He's hell wrapped in sin. He feels gloriously hot, wet and silken under Elder's fingertip as he presses in further, curling his finger and tracing teasing circles where the younger man aches for him the most. He knows he's found the spot when Younger screams up to the ceiling, broken sobs of pleasure pouring into the night.

Elder doesn't relent, adding another finger and stretching him out gently as his tongue teases up the centre of Younger's balls. He continues his torturous journey upwards; tracing the vein under his sensitive length, collecting the precious taste of his counterpart on his tongue.

'Don't you fucking dare stop,' Younger babbles mindlessly, words coming in staccato bursts as he chases his pleasure, 'ti prego, gonna- again- close- oh, Papa-!'

Just as Younger's peak hits him, Elder reaches upwards, tugging away the blindfold and taking his cock into his mouth. Younger cries out as he empties himself down Elder's throat, experienced tongue and talented fingers encouraging every last drop of his love until he's whimpering brokenly.

Pulling away, the older man paints soft kisses over Younger's balls, burying his face tightly against the apex of his thighs and drawing in a deep breath. His senses are overwhelmed; the taste of his counterpart still rich on his tongue, his scent heavy in his lungs.

Before he knows it, the weight over his shoulders vanishes, and Younger's lips crash into his again. The ferocity is surprising, but not unwelcome as the younger man presses himself impatiently against Elder's cock, grinding down and pleading his need into the older man's mouth.

'Easy, amata, easy,' he soothes, guiding Younger's slim hips over his, gripping him hard enough to bruise. He teases himself against Younger's twitching hole, chuckling wickedly as Younger whimpers brokenly.

He wants to draw this out, to really show the younger man the meaning of delayed gratification. However, he feels the burn of his own pleasure rippling under his skin; he'd paid it no mind until this moment, too busy worshipping at his own altar.

He could feel his orgasm building even now, in the way his thighs quivered, trying to resist the urge to flip the younger man over and fuck him senselessly into the mattress.

But he stays patient; biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and screwing his eyes tightly shut, he eases himself slowly into Younger's welcoming warmth. Identical groans spill between frenzied kisses as he bottoms out, his younger self slick and silky-soft around him.

Younger barely has time to warn him; burying his face into the crook of Elder's neck, he whimpers as the older man fills him past anything he'd ever felt before. His release is instantaneous; thick spurts of devotion pour in between them, coating the cushion of Elder's stomach and chest once more.

The younger man pushes himself upwards, as if to move out of Elder's reach. His face burns scarlet with shame through the remainder of his paints as he closes his eyes tightly, turning his head away.

Elder reaches up to cup the younger man's face, smiling gently as tears begin to stream steadily from behind his closed eyes. Lightly, he brushes them away with his thumb, smearing the already ruined paint further.

'Salvatore,' Elder murmurs into the heated air like a prayer, 'look at me. Per favore.'

It shouldn't come as a surprise to Younger that Elder knows his own name, but the fact he dares to say it aloud has warmth blossoming like a wildfire in his chest.

Another thing that had been stolen; the pride of his birth, returned to him at last. With an experimental roll of his hips, he opens his eyes, leaning softly into Elder's touch.

Elder lets him dictate the pace, only too happy to hold him here, to meet the younger man where he is. Before he can overthink, Younger leans down until their lips are once again centimetres apart; soft gasps and moans melt into the shared space between them.

Lightly, he begins to paint kisses over Elder's jawline, following the flutter of life in his veins up to his ear.

'Ti amo, Salvatore. Thank you for letting me show you. For-'

The sentence is interrupted by Elder's hand curling into the younger man's hair, yanking him abruptly into a messy, passionate kiss. It is then when the dam breaks; Elder's hips piston upwards, impaling Younger with each thrust.

His mouth explores every inch of flesh that he can reach, capturing each snarl and cry of ecstasy with the eagerness of his tongue.

Without separating their bodies, Elder sits up suddenly, lifting Younger into the air and flipping him over with a growl as his patience snaps. They crash back down onto the mattress, stars twinkling behind Younger's eyes as the older man's weight presses him hard into the bed.

Not wanting to be apart from him for a moment, Younger wraps his arms around Elder's neck and hooks his knees over soft hips. With a grunt, he locks them firmly together, simultaneously pulling the older man deeper.

Elder pauses for a moment, his hips stuttering as he feels the tendrils of his release begin to tingle goosebumps over his skin once more. Oh, how he wants to be the first to stake his claim, to utterly ruin himself for anybody else.

Almost as if he's read his mind, Younger threads his hand firmly into dark curls and tugs the older man's mouth down to his before kissing him again, hungrily.

'I give myself,' he murmurs between greedy laps of his tongue and desperate nips of teeth, 'take what you need, Papa. Remember, this I give willingly, for you. Solo per te.'

Elder moans into the kiss, finally allowing the last of his resistance to fall away. His knees ache, his hips burn, and yet he can't stop. Doesn't want to stop, especially when the younger man feels so good under him; warm, willing and pliant.

Feeling Younger arch up against him, he hooks a brawny arm around his waist, lifting him up and pressing their torsos together. With the last ounces of his strength, the older man redoubles his thrusts, the slap of skin and low groans reaching their crescendo as his younger counterpart clutches on to him like a lifeline.

'Kiss me again,' Elder pants, feeling the burn of what would be his final release alight in his belly, 'per favore, I'm gonna-'

Without letting him finish his sentence, Younger's lips find his again just as their joined release crashes over them for the last time, setting them both alight. The older man holds Younger through each shockwave, crying out until his throat aches.

With a broken sob, he collapses sideways onto the bed. Younger follows him, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face into the older man's chest.

They both remain there for a moment, soft sobs and whimpers of overstimulation muffled into hair and against slickened skin. They both know what this means; soon whatever spell set in motion would break, and Younger would be gone. So for now, they stay as they are, making pacts and whispering secrets for their ears alone.

Eventually, they both calm, their breathing evening out as the fire dies. Younger shudders, suddenly cold, and Elder pulls him close, cocooning them both in the duvet as best he can. Something seems to tickle him and he laughs softly, the sound muffled against damp skin.

'What's funny?' Elder chuckles, his lips brushing lightly against the younger man's temple.

'I was thinking…' Younger muses, eyes sparkling with mischief, ' people always tell me to go fuck myself; if only they knew.'

Elder laughs heartily, wrapping his arms around Younger's shoulders and pulling him close. 'Let that be our little secret, hm?' he breathes, unable to recall a time when he'd felt more at peace.

The younger man falls asleep quickly, his head resting in the hollow over Elder's heart, the gentle rhythm soothing him. Elder smiles sadly, wanting to stay like this forever, but knowing deep down that sleep would take the younger man from him.

And yet, he was glad. Secure in the knowledge that Younger would become the person he is now, his heart swells with bittersweet pride. Eventually, he loses the battle with sleep, eyelids fluttering closed as he presses a kiss to the crown of the younger man's head.

'Sleep well, cuore,' he murmurs softly into hair lightly fragranced with bergamot, 'you're still here; I am still here. You're not going anywhere. Prometto.'

Epilogue

Morning comes, and the moment Terzo opens his eyes, he knows. His arms lay empty, the other side of his bed bare and unbearably cold. Burying his face into the pillows, he inhales deeply, breath catching on a sob as he scents the ghost of citrus.

And yet, as he sits up, he somehow feels more refreshed than he should. His skin tingles, almost as if the younger man had sunk into his very soul as he slept, soothing him.

Carding shuddering hands into his hair, he feels a sense of calm pass over him, along with a realisation. The younger man wasn't gone. He always was, and would be forever, part of him, looking back from every mirror. Tears sting in Terzo's eyes as he levers himself up, aches softened by the memory of his love.

His eyes catch a piece of paper on the bedside table, tucked under the crystal bottle, and his heart squeezes. Unfolding it with shaking fingers, brimming tears spill over as he recognises his younger self's calligraphic writing:

My most beloved Salvatore,

Last night was a gift; one that I will never soon forget, and one I know you won't, either. Thank you for showing me that happiness is possible. That I am worthy of love and respect, just as I am.

I am always a dream away. Ti amerò per siempre.

S. xx

Translations:

fratellino - little brother

calmati - calm down

per favore - please

smettila - stop it

cuore - heart

perdonami - forgive me/pardon me

angelo mio - my angel

amore - love

perfetto - perfect

ovviamente - obviously

cucciolo - puppy/cub

che cazzo - what the fuck

niente - nothing

bello - handsome

caro - dear

bene - good

ti prego - I beg you

ti amo - I love you

solo per te - just for you

prometto - I promise

ti amerò per sempre - I will love you forever

amata - beloved (Latin)

Author's note: Unless specified otherwise, "Terzo" here refers to "our" Terzo, ie the one in our world, in his 60s/70s.

Terzo finished marking the final rune along the rim of the circle surrounding him. It had been years since he last attempted a summoning, but to his delight the knowledge had lingered in mental and muscle memory both. He dropped his chalk to the floor, dusted off his hands, then stood with a strained groan, clutching his knees as he rose.

Once he’d double- and triple-checked that everything was as it should be, he picked up his book and nervously cleared his throat.

It’s going to be fine. You’ve done this before. You’ve done this exact ritual before. You know what to do.

He pulled the ceremonial blade from his pocket and slowly unsheathed it as he took one last deep breath.

Seco, you jackass, I’ll show you.

His arm swung above his head, cutting through the air as he began to speak the words.

Had he missed a rune? Drawn one of them incorrectly? Had he forgotten the proper pronunciation of a name after so many years? If nothing else, he had failed to adequately protect himself —a rookie mistake, and an embarrassing one. He still wasn’t sure what had gone wrong, but luckily he’d gotten away with nothing but some hair singed off his arms; it could have been much worse. He made his way back to his quarters, muttering to himself.

Stupid old man. You’re not even welcome in Hell anymore. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

When he unlocked his door he had only a moment to wonder why there was light shining from under it. He gaped at the small room he stood in, decidedly not his papal suite, and at the young man in front of him.

The young man’s arms fell limply to his sides as they stared at one another. He knew, distantly, that he should be asking this old man what he was doing here or if he was lost, and maybe he should even be screaming at him to get out of his room, but something held his tongue.

“Who...” the old man trailed off.

“What…”

Terzo knew what he seeing —who he was looking at— but couldn’t voice it. He could barely stand up straight, let alone dare to fully think out all the words. The young man stepped closer, peering intently into the stranger’s face. In the dim light, the pale left eye they had in common stood out, wide and wondering as it was.

It’s striking, the old man thought, reeling, his eyes are so uncanny and...beautiful.

After a long silence, the young man simply said, “Are you me?”

Terzo licked his lips, his mouth having suddenly gone dry, and replied, “I think so, yes.” The young man swayed on his feet, gripping the wall to stay steady.

“This is Kraków,” the old man said, looking out the window, “How am I in Poland again?”

“Where...where were you...before?”

Terzo walked to the window and pushed the curtain open more, looking over the city he’d spent so much of his youth in.

“Far,” he softly said. “Very far.”

The young man sank onto his bed, eyes still wide.

Terzo closed the curtain, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes and clearing his throat before asking, “Is...Necropolitus, is he still here?”

“He is.”

The old man turned, a sad smile on his face. “I am glad to hear that. He was...is a good friend.”

The young man bowed his head into his hands. “How did this happen? This is not at all what I tried to do.”

“Tried to do?”

“Secondo,” he said, his words muffled, hollowed by his palms, “The jackass was gloating about successfully summoning an infernal, and I...I have yet to even attempt it, so-”

“Secondo goaded you into doing a ritual too? And something went wrong?”

The old man heavily sat down next to his young counterpart as the realization dawned on them both, looking around the room and taking it all in. Everything was as he remembered, but it was all just a hair to the left. Book titles with missing or added words, the box of crackers on the little table the wrong color.

This isn’t my world, he thought, slightly giddy, I may have failed at summoning, but I crossed planes. Even Primo hasn’t done that.

“So what do we do?” the young one asked, raking his hair —still so thick, still all black— back from his face, an amused grin on his face.

“A part of me wants to tell you to clean your room,” Terzo chuckled, looking at the mess around them. More chaotic than his own room had been so long ago, but in a familiar way, as though he knew precisely which pile of loose papers was hiding his comb, or where in the kitchen he could find a fountain pen. Terzo thought it obviously lighthearted, but the young man immediately bristled.

“I’m not a child, you know, just because-”

“Hey, hey,” he said, almost in disbelief, “I meant nothing by it.” Was I this temperamental?

“Necro is always on my case about it,” the young man grumbled, crossing his arms. “I have more important things to think about.”

“Mm,” Terzo hummed, keeping his face neutral. Poor sweet fool, thinking the weight of the world is on your shoulders now. He let the boy sulk, looking over him in silence.

Striking in profile, with a face flawless and still unlined. Every part of him still taut and smooth, lean and chiseled; a face and body meant for an artist’s hands, made for sculpture and paint. The young man finally felt his gaze and met his eyes.

“What?”

“...Nothing.” Terzo looked away, something like shame burning through him, racing alongside envy greener than their other shared eye.

It's not enough for you to be a stupid old man; you had to be vain, too. Thinking you were so special is what landed you here in the first place.

“I’m glad you still have hair.”

Terzo let out a surprised bubble of laughter, and the young man gave him a wry grin before teasing, “Do they not have hair dye in the future?”

“Eventually you have to accept when you have lost the war,” Terzo sighed, wistfully twirling a salt-and-pepper lock in his fingers. “I got sick of touching it up every two weeks.” He couldn’t help staring at the young man again, studying his face in a way that had never been possible in a mirror. A gust of wind loudly rattled the windows, but neither of them took their eyes off the other. 

Terzo slowly reached out a trembling hand.

“Did I ever look like this, or is it just you?” he asked, his voice hoarse and awed, “Is it just in this world that you’re like this?” He hesitated, just for a moment, before gently touching the tips of his fingers to the young man’s cheek, and his voice dropped to a reverent whisper.

“Was I ever this beautiful?”

“I...I see my face in yours,” the younger one said, “It’s...I am so afraid of getting old, of...of getting ugly-”

“Unlovable,” Terzo murmured, and the young man nodded.

“But you...you’re not. Looking like you...I’m okay with it. Happy about it.” He looked down for a moment, then met Terzo’s eyes again with a shy smile, and whether he tilted his head from curious reflex or to lean into his counterpart’s touch, neither could say. Terzo had forgotten he was still wearing his gloves, and started slowly pulling them off as their eyes stayed locked. With naked hands they slowly reached for one another, drawing closer, all trepidation vanishing as their fingers laced together.

It was an absurdity they were both all too aware of, the wordless agreement that their lips should meet, that they should both learn of their own taste and touch in such a perplexing manner. But even beyond their ages, they weren’t identical; there were things to learn, and another person’s body was a course of study neither had ever shied away from.

The young one was so eager, so hungry and impatient despite knowing he should savor the elder’s slower pace, embrace the depth and longing expressed with so much care and intention. He didn’t know Terzo was desperately trying to keep himself under control; he had no idea how badly the older man wanted to throw him to the floor and simply take him, to revel in his energy and beauty, knowing he didn’t have to be gentle or take his time. He knew the young man would have no need for delicacy here, now, and restraint being so unnecessary —unwelcome, even— was a temptation growing more powerful with each second they kissed.

Terzo slid his hand to back of the young man’s neck with a moan, pulling their mouths more firmly together, each soft, whining sound making him wonder how much longer he’d be able to resist his baser urges. He got his answer when his younger self moved Terzo’s palm over his stiffening cock and squeezed, using Terzo’s hand to rub his length.

His young counterpart broke away from the kiss with a grin, breathlessly asking, “Do we have everything in common?”

Terzo smiled, licking his lips, then flicked his eyes to the floor and nodded for the young man to kneel. Then neither of them moved.

“Well?” Terzo raised a brow. Haven't you heard of respecting your elders?

The young man blinked, then realized what Terzo was trying to communicate. “What?” he scowled, “I’m just supposed to- what if you just disappear or something after I make you come?”

Terzo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Alright. You are still selfish,” he said, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile, “Fortunately, you outgrow this.”

“Selfish?” the young one indignantly said, “I do not see why-”

Terzo cut him off with a dismissive wave. “You do not believe in people yet. It is fine.” He slid off the bed, stifling a strained sigh as he got on his knees and settled between the young man’s legs, slowly running his hands up the taut, firm muscles that had once been his. He’d forgotten what it felt like, and relished every moment.

The young one looked down at him, heat blooming across his cheeks as he slowly unfastened his pants, erection already prominent through the fabric, and Terzo pulled the black cloth down to his knees, letting them pool onto the floor.

Terzo grasped the young one’s cock in a firm hand, eliciting a sharp inhale as he began to stroke it —exactly like mine was, rock-hard at the drop of a hat— letting his fingers search for the places where he had always been most sensitive, the spots he’d thought were only known to him, and found that no, the two of them shared this too. Terzo licked along the base of the thick cock in front of him, and finding out what he tasted like made his own cock twitch with excitement, as did the young man’s soft moan when Terzo cupped his balls and gently squeezed.

He worked his way up, his clever tongue seeking those sweet spots again from the unfamiliar angle, each gasp and groan confirming he’d been successful. When he worked the foreskin down and finally took the young one’s cock into his mouth Terzo felt fingers weave into his hair. He looked up at this young version of him, into the mismatched bedroom eyes set over full, parted lips, now viscerally understanding why so many in the Ministry had come to worship at his altar over the years. The young man shook him from his thoughts by greedily pushing his cock further in with a groan.

“Can- can you take it all, old man?” he breathlessly laughed, “I will, later.”

Terzo moaned loudly around the thick cock sliding in and out of his mouth and shifted around on his knees. His own cock was achingly hard, threatening to burst his zipper, arousal leaking and dampening his pants. He longed to free himself, to stroke himself in tandem with the other, partaking in this uniquely twinned opportunity for pleasure, but he kept his own desire at bay. His younger self needed to see that self-gratification was something that could be delayed.

Terzo slid his hand up the young man’s body, combing his fingers through the hair covering the flat, firm belly he’d once been so proud of, and the young one hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, giving the older man free reign of his torso. Terzo had intended to get his fingers into the younger one’s mouth, wanting a preview of the lips and tongue his future held, but once he touched his chest and belly he wanted to stay there. He wanted to feel him for its own sake, but the rush of memories kept him lingering, caressing what had been once been his and now, somehow, was again.

He swept both palms up the young man’s chest, reveling in each sharp inhale, each quiver of muscle, making an intrigued, approving sound at the piercings he found, and taking handfuls of soft, yielding flesh in his hands —The hands that so often looked so old to him now, thrilling to see against the baby-soft skin of his impossible lover.

He finally moved a hand away and slipped his fingers between warm, welcoming lips then dipped his head down, taking as much cock as he could as his own twitched with need, moaning wantonly when his younger self hit the back of his throat.

The young man gasped a muffled, “Fuck,” around Terzo’s fingers, keeping Terzo’s mouth firmly around his cock as it flexed against his tongue. They both moaned in unison, both mouths equally hungry, equally willing, as Terzo grabbed at the younger man’s pecs, working one of nipples between his fingers, pinching and flicking it, tugging at the tantalizing metal ring and making the young man’s breath hitch excitedly.

Terzo looked into his eyes again when he finally took the cock from his mouth. He resumed stroking it as he kept his mouth working hungrily along the underside, sucking at the tender spot beneath the head as he took in the glorious being looking so tenderly down at him. The younger man’s hand was gently threading through his hair now, a blissful, dreamy calm settling on his elegant features even as he rocked his hips to keep Terzo’s mouth near.

Terzo shifted again, trying to ignore that his erection was becoming almost painful, and pushed his counterpart’s thighs apart.

The young one threw his head back, gasping, “Ah,” when Terzo started stroking his hole, just pressing against it and teasing with his finger, letting out a pleased chuckle at every shudder. Their eyes met again and Terzo smiled at the sight: his newest conquest, plump lips pinned by teeth, the shock of raven hair falling across his eyes, the trembling muscles that responded so prettily to every caress.

What a vision you are.

“F-fuck,” the young one breathed, throwing his head back when Terzo pushed his finger inside. His hips jerked instantly, angling himself to give Terzo full access to him, to whatever he wanted. Terzo kept massaging his balls, watching the beautiful show the young man was putting on for him.

“You’ve taken cock here before?” he asked, and the young one simply groaned and nodded. “Good,” Terzo smiled, “I would have liked to be the first, I think, but that means I can just fuck you however I want, eh?”

“You- yes, yes…” the young one bit his lip, cursing loudly when Terzo’s mouth claimed his cock again. “Fuck, fuck,” he whimpered, “M-more…” Terzo squeezed his balls and worked his mouth all the way down, tonguing at the base and letting saliva run freely. Once he’d sufficiently wetted another finger he slid it inside the young man and started moving them more quickly. The young one had both his hands in Terzo’s hair, gripping him possessively as he whined and writhed under his ministrations.

He even sounds beautiful.

Terzo slowed his hand, his clever fingers seeking the greatest physical pleasure available to their bodies. Ruminating, not for the first time, that this tiny thing, a node barely larger than a grape, could undo them so easily.

Just a single press of his finger and the young man fell back onto the bed, spreading his legs as wide as he could while making the kind of sound usually only heard at a zoo. Terzo let the cock slide from his mouth and laughed, content to simply watch as he squirmed and shook and moaned so prettily, so whorishly. He barely had to apply any pressure at all, hardly even had to move his finger, he could simply sit and take in the work of art before him:

A moving sculpture worthy of the old masters, exquisite and flawless. Pale white marble rendered pink and trembling by his expert hands.

Crying out, clutching the bedding as his legs shook and hips rolled; panting and pleading and desperate as his abandoned cock kicked and twitched, hard as stone and red as sin, against his quivering belly; throwing his head side to side and cursing, hoarse whimpers escaping him at a loud, feminine pitch.

He stammered something unintelligible, then interrupted himself with a howl of agonized release. His hips thrust uselessly into the air as he clamped down hard on Terzo’s fingers, and Terzo watched with delight as his balls retracted almost completely into his body, his cock flexing so hard he could practically see the course of the ejaculate streaming out of him. A comically large puddle splashed onto his belly, followed by a series of twitching spurts, each accompanied by another loud whimper.

The young man went limp, mumbling senselessly and lost to the world as Terzo stood with a groan. As he shed his clothes he looked over the lean, ravishing thing before him, stroking his aching, leaking cock, wondering if he was feeling patient enough to to wait for the young man to recover. He badly wanted to feel those soft, full lips sliding up and down his shaft, and for those enchanting, dissimilar eyes to look up at him as he offered his mouth and tongue for Terzo’s use. The young man stretched, still mumbling to himself, and when Terzo saw the muscles of his long legs rippling he knew what he wanted: those legs around him. Now.

He moved onto the bed, briefly detouring to lick a greedy stripe across the young man’s belly, the offering of seed there so copious that he took a second pass, gathering it on his tongue to share with his younger self. The young man responded tiredly, groaning hungrily as he swallowed everything Terzo gave him. Terzo pulled away, licking his lips, and cupped the young man’s cheek as he pressed his hips against him, their cocks throbbing against one another. Terzo nudged his face to turn it.

“Spit.”

The young man complied with a moan, coating his palm in warm saliva before Terzo added to it himself. As Terzo slicked his cock, their eyes met —dreamy, amorous expressions mirrored and wanting more, and when the head of his cock pushed inside, both pairs of beautiful mismatched eyes rolled back to white.

“Fuck,” Terzo breathed, and the young man gasped out, “So thick,” as Terzo slowly swung his hips forward. Terzo dropped his mouth to his lover’s neck, biting down as he buried himself in the tight warmth and started moving his cock in and out. Every stroke drew sweet noises into the air as they sighed and shivered and shook together in ecstatic harmony.

Terzo hooked his arm under the young man’s leg and pressed it back to the bed, then slung the other leg over his lower back, youthful flexibility allowing Terzo to twist him into whatever shape he pleased. The young one responded immediately, shifting himself to let Terzo pick up speed, crying out when Terzo’s thighs and balls started slapping against him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he was whimpering, but Terzo could only look down at him, at himself, in awe, somehow not comprehending that his young counterpart couldn’t take his eyes off him, either.

A voice low and sonorous, the quiet, commanding presence and the intensity of his stare; all that was enough to be compelling. But this younger version of Terzo took all of him in, now taking joy from things he’d feared, deep down, for years. The lines in his face gave him character, the streaks of silver shot through ink-dark hair made him distinguished, and the soft layer of fat —what the youth had first noticed about him, slight as it was— made him plush and pliant in the hand. He slid his hands up the older man’s arms, down and across his back, dragging his fingernails through pillowy skin, marking what he wished to be his.

Every inch he touched, he tried to commit to memory, and wondered how many other pairs of hands had clutched this very back, who else may have felt the copious hair, so thick and dark, against their chest and thighs. How many had been so lucky as to find themselves here, looking up at this otherworldly man, this dream given form?

He felt a pang of incomprehensible jealousy, that anyone else should get to experience this —experience him.

The silver accents in Terzo's hair called to him —he needed his hands in it, and he pulled Terzo’s head back to make their eyes meet again. He wanted every second of attention he could get, and even if Terzo was older and wiser, his younger self was still sure he knew how to acquire it.

“This...this the best you can do, old man?” he breathed, an impish grin on his flushed pink face. Terzo breathlessly growled and started fucking down into him harder, laughing at the cries summoned with each deep stroke.

“Big talk from you, hmm?” he panted, “Moaning like a good whore when I’m this deep in your ass, and you still mouth off to me?” He shifted his weight around, pressing their bodies firmly together, then pushed his thumb between the young man’s wanton, parted lips. “Nothing to say now?” he teased, as the young man moaned loudly around him, eagerly sucking the proffered digit and basking in the smug satisfaction radiating from his older self as he took the bait and fucked him like he had a point to prove.

When his hips fell out of rhythm, the stutter of his muscles proclaiming approaching climax, the young one freed his mouth just long enough to bring his lips to Terzo’s. The two of them shared their taste and sounds, kisses growing more urgent and messy with each passing moment until Terzo’s head dropped to the smooth, firm chest below him. He pumped his cock in and out the last few needed times before slamming his hips forward, spilling inside him with a grunt and ragged breaths.

After a moment, Terzo’s body sagged. Soft whimpers and sighs the only sound as they floated back down to earth, and Terzo groaned softly when the young man pushed strands of damp hair back from his face. He kissed the older man’s lined forehead, breathing deep the scent of him, unable to suppress a smile at the fleeting taste of sweat on his lips.

Terzo kept his face in the crook of the young man’s neck, telling himself he was just catching his breath rather than trying his hardest to remember everything about his younger self. The clean scent of his skin, the silky feel of his hair, how sweetly his pulse still raced. He pressed a soft kiss to softer skin, letting his lips linger longer than necessary before rolling off him, onto his back.

They both laid in silence, staring at the crack in the ceiling —that was there too, back in my world— for a minute, then the young man sat up and rummaged around on the bedside table.

“Hey,” the young man nudged him, “Did you ever get better at rolling cigarettes?”

Terzo chuckled and held out his hand, sitting up when he was handed the pouch of tobacco. It had been a long time —decades, in fact, but his fingers remembered the motions, the careful steps of this little ritual he’d performed hundreds of times. One thing he’d forgotten, though, was how different loose tobacco smelled, and the sweet scent brought with it a flood of sweet memories, many from this very room.

His recollections of his time in Kraków had grown foggier than he cared to admit. He had entertained so very many in this very room —well, his version of this very room— and forgotten so many of them in turn. He had learned as much in this bed as from his bookshelf, truth be told, and he had no doubt his young counterpart was pursuing a similar education.

And he said Necro is here, he thought, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. They're still together. Maybe this time...

Their eyes met again when Terzo delicately ran his tongue along the paper.

Maybe this time- maybe a version of me can fix it. Maybe this time he can be saved, too.

A few moments later he handed over his work of art, then laughed at the young man’s sour face. “I did not say I got much better.”

“Still better than I can do,” the young man sighed. He cracked open the window and lit up, leaning back against the pillows next to Terzo. After a moment, Terzo slipped his arm around his shoulders, and they passed the cigarette back and forth, passing no comments on his dubious rolling skills, two talkative men lapsed into silence. Then the door opened.

“What-”

“Who-”

“How-”

A third one. The hair set above the bespectacled, pale eye was fully white now, and when his jaw dropped open, Terzo could see a missing tooth. This new, eldest version of them took in the scene before him, immediately piecing together how these two younger versions of himself had wound up here. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Secondo?”

“Secondo,” Terzo confirmed.

“Jackass,” the young man muttered.

The bed had just enough room for three. Terzo saw the shame in the eyes of the eldest as each piece of clothing came off, as his cock failed to swell as proudly as theirs, as if the passage of time affecting him was somehow a personal failing. He would look away, blushing, shy as a maid, even as the two younger men delighted in uncovering him. They weren’t blind to that passage of time, nor were they happy and celebratory about every facet they uncovered together, but neither would they sit idly by and let the eldest feel pitied or unwanted.

He was wanted.

He laid back and let Terzo’s hand run all over his body, exploring him just as lovingly and curiously as he had the young one, finding so much to admire, so much that was still shared by all of them. The young man was kneeling between the eldest’s legs, his mouth and youthful energy dedicated to the old man’s cock, unfazed by a weak erection and merely wishing to pleasure him as best he could.

Terzo leaned over the old man, shivering at the sound of his soft whimpers and moans —so much closer to his own than the young man’s had been— expecting to be merely tolerant of wrinkled lips and instead finding himself enjoying them. He tasted different, the oldest, but Terzo still recognized it. All three of them were so close to being the exact same man, carrying all the same burdens and flaws, the same need to be loved.

None of them knew when reality would readjust, if it would at all, but they didn’t speak aloud their mutual agreement that the night should be treated as something to be treasured and taken full advantage of. All three were served; together, in turn, as equally as they could tolerate, Terzo and his elder exchanging tired, amused smiles as the youngest worked endlessly to please them. The young one finally trusted that they weren’t merely taking from him —using him— and his acts of gratitude were as enthusiastic as they were exhausting.

It was a sweet fatigue, though, and eldest took the youngest inside him happily, laying back and letting the euphoria wash over him; skilled, eager cock pounding into him as Terzo sucked his cock, the young man coming with a deep groan before he joined Terzo. The two of them used their mouths and fingers to coax an orgasm from the old man's slender, shaking body, sharing their elder’s cum with their tongues as he watched them and shuddered with delight.

Terzo knew he should be long asleep, should have been completely worn out even before the third one had arrived, but for some reason he simply felt invigorated tonight. Whether it was an effect of the ritual, or shifting planes, or something as simple as the young man’s infectious energy, he kept going, far past the point he knew his stamina should be completely spent. The eldest, too, seemed energized, pulling Terzo on top of him and groaning with satisfaction as Terzo filled him.

When Terzo felt the young man behind him, felt the thick cock —his own cock, for all intents and purposes— slide into him, there was a sense of...completion. A finality, as if this was where he had always needed to be. Three lovers made for one another with practically no need for correction, so easily intuiting one another’s needs and wants and limitations. The three of them moved as one, breathed as one, felt as one.

The young man raked his fingers through Terzo’s hair and pulled his head back, teasing, “I guess you can take it all, eh, old man?” and Terzo laughed.

“We won’t know until you give me it all, boy.”

He hadn’t felt this alive in years.

When the elder two had finally had enough the young man pouted, but only briefly. He left for the restroom and the two of them shared a quiet laugh.

“Do you even remember what it was like being him?” Terzo chuckled.

“Sometimes,” the old man said with a wistful smile. “It is a strange thing, missing something even as you’re glad to have left it behind.” Terzo hummed in agreement, lacing his fingers into the old man’s, looking at the wrinkled hand and wondering how much more time would pass before his looked like that.

The old man reached for him, gently touching his cheek, gladly accepting a kiss long and sweet and deep. He looked adoringly up at Terzo when their lips parted, eyes shining with pure, simple gratitude.

He pushed a lock of Terzo's hair away from his eyes with a reverent hand, whispering, “Was I ever this beautiful?”

Even as Terzo’s heart swelled, even as his own eyes filled with tears, he couldn’t ignore the sorrow so evident in the old man’s voice. There was a moment of dread —is he alone? Am I still going to be alone?— but the old man’s eyes fluttered shut, a blissful smile spreading across his face, and Terzo managed to push his concerns away. He could think about it later.

For now, at least, none of us are alone.

More cigarettes were shared; thankfully, the elder had some with him and they didn’t have to suffer another pathetic hand-rolled attempt. He and Terzo relaxed back against a pile of pillows as the youngest sat between them, cross-legged and facing them, looking over them both with a keen, canny eye as they exchanged idle chatter. The conversation lulled as they finished their smokes, and then the young man cleared his throat, finally asking the question he’d been sitting on for hours.

“So...do I- do we become Papa?”

“Yes,” the eldest softly said, "You will be Papa." He and Terzo shared a look, the pain well-hidden but obvious to one another.

You, too.

The young man sat up straighter, smiling excitedly, “When does-”

All of them heard the door open, and three Terzos beheld one man. Not yet another Terzo, but a friend; his face surprisingly blank as he processed what was in front of him. Necropolitus sighed, closed the door, and unzipped his pants.

SURPRISE MOTHERTRUCKERS

NOBODY EXPECTS THIRD TERZO