#yoooo finally

They had always been each other's first.

First kiss, first shitty handjob, first sex—which was done clumsily, of course, well they were two hormonal teenage boys back then—and many others. No one had ever found out, it just grew into a habit, a secret that they shared together. Hundreds of nights sneaking into one another's bedroom when they had the chance, yet none of them was brave enough to actually address that line, the one that had been crossed for a long time, between them.

At first Pecco had brushed it off, thinking they would forget about it soon, but the world had proven him wrong. Turns out, even on the night of Luca’s wedding, they had managed to sneak out and he found himself dropping to his knees, worshipping the god before him. That night Luca had whispered all sweet things to his ears and wiped his tears away, not knowing the very reason behind his crying.

It should’ve been him on that altar instead of—

He shouldn’t.

He didn’t dare to cross that line (he already did.)

Again, he tried to push that weird clump in his chest aside, maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. Still, it couldn’t go away, instead it grew bigger and bigger as the time went by, even when he got less shared time with Luca, but it’s fine anyway, it was something that he could still cling onto. They weren’t teenagers anymore, there was no time for whatever they were. 

Then there came Domi. A gorgeous and talented woman. They had known each other since childhood through their family, and since then they had grown quite a nice relationship. Good enough to distract Pecco from whatever feelings his messed-up head was making up, and she had accepted him willingly. She loved him, and so did he, or that was what he thought. No, he liked her, really, it was just sometimes when there was a time for the academy boys to meet up—he found his eyes wandering to him once again. It was almost like it’s instinctual, the way Luca’s eyes also met his, and only them and God knows what happened next.

Tonight it was almost the same. Domi had gone out since morning to meet with her friends, and that leaves him alone in their house. That loneliness didn’t last long enough because somehow Luca had texted him—telling him he was in his area—wanting to come by, and of course he said yes without any hesitation.

They had never fucked on his bed, mainly because he’s feeling guilty about it—staining his marriage just over someone who will never be his—but tonight he led Luca right into it, letting him drop his body gently on the bed, planting kisses on all of his freckles. It shouldn’t feel like this, like—Luca loved him back. But what was he supposed to do? When he got the most beautiful man between his legs, treating him as if he was some kind of a fragile diamond that needed careful attention.

They rarely do it facing each other just because Pecco thought he’d cry if he had to see Luca’s face, and he didn’t want to be asked—to expose himself even more to the man. It was already enough that he knew all his weaknesses, or how he could make him slip easily into that docile stage by just pressing the right spots.

“God, you’ve gotten so tight—” Luca groaned into his ear. “ —It’s like the first time I fucked you.”

Pecco laughed weakly, he remembered it clearly. It was years ago, Vale had called the train off due to heavy raining, and it didn’t even take them any second thought before they ran into Luca’s room, locking it behind. He wasn’t even sure that he was doing it right—until Luca actually helped him prepare, then he was moaning and there were scratches here and there. It didn’t even last long enough, but it did awaken something he previously didn’t know he had. It had grown into something dangerous and addictive enough he couldn’t quit it. He couldn’t quit Luca. He wished he could.

Another harsh thrust into his body forcefully made him leave his thoughts, he grasped at the bedsheet instead, his head dropping between his shoulders. Gasping at free air, he realized how he also grew the habit of keeping himself quiet, biting at his lower lip—which Luca never liked.

“I want to hear you, don't hold yourself,” he pulled at his hair—forcing a loud moan from Pecco as he took his other hand to grip Pecco’s hip harshly, creating zero gap between their bodies. The sound it made was dirty with the bed-creaking noises completing them.

“That’s more like it, of course you’ve always liked it like this—” when it is rougher, hurting, when there’s zero feelings, because that way his thoughts will leave him alone.

He croaked out, “I’ve missed this.” I’ve missed you. The second was unsaid of course, because he wasn’t brave enough, would never be brave enough.

“Yeah? Me too. You’re doing so good—fuck, always good for me.” His forehead dropped into the back of Pecco’s neck, inhaling the scent of whatever perfume the other had put on before he arrived.

Pecco clenched at his words, moaning pleasepleasepleas—he didn’t even know what he was begging for. Maybe for this to last forever, maybe for Luca to never acknowledge his feelings ever (because if he did, he’d lose him), maybe for God to forgive his unfaithfulness. Anything, to ever goes his way.

His eyes were teary when Luca forcefully grabbed his neck, but that’s when he noticed what was on his nightstand. He didn’t think about it at all—a small detail—a small framed picture of his wedding, with him and Domi smiling in it. The guilt crept up into him again, he shouldn’t be doing this—

“Ah, what’s a nice picture you got there, Pecco.” It seemed that Luca had noticed it too. He said it way too casually as if he wasn’t buried deep inside of Pecco at the moment, as if it was normal for him to be fucking someone else’s husband in their bed.

More tears started forming at the corner of his eyes. “D-don’t—”

“Shh, it’s fine. I know your beautiful wife probably couldn’t treat you like this, huh? Poor girl, she doesn’t know how much of a slut her husband is.”

Pecco wanted to look away, anywhere but to that photo, but Luca had his hands on his hair again, forcing him to stare at it. “How do you think she will react? Hm?”

He sealed his eyes shut, shaking his head. No, no, anything but her, he wanted to say, but his mouth too was shut.

“But we don’t want that don’t we?” Pecco shook his head once again. Luca chuckled behind him, slapping a nasty mark on his right ass cheek, then on the left one. He cried even louder. Then he was flipped around, his back on the bed, and he could feel Luca’s thumb wiping the drying tear on his face.

“There, there. Don’t cry.” He sniffled as he opened his eyes. He was immediately met with a pair of beautiful blue eyes, the ones that he had fallen with. Luca took his hand, putting it on his cheek, a much softer gesture compared to what he had been doing previously—and Pecco didn’t like it, this way his delusional mind would feed on this even more—they should stop. (He didn’t want to.)

He rested his other hand on Luca’s shoulder, as the man brought one of his legs upward, positioning himself just to his liking, making him go even deeper inside—and Pecco’s back arched—he thought it was impossible for his body to do that. Apparently, it’s not, and as if Luca could read his mind he asked, “You want to come yet?”

He nodded weakly, “please…” He didn’t go to reach for his own dick, because Luca quickly took it in his hand, jerking it lazily.

To think about it, it really fits nicely inside Luca’s palm, being fully covered. “Messy. Do you even know how to use this?” He gripped it harshly, more precum seeping from the tip. “It’s so small—ah, I guess it fits you, cute.”

Pecco should be embarrassed over what’s-supposedly-to-be-insult by Luca, but rather than shame he was feeling turned on even more than ever. It didn’t take long until he came around Luca’s dick and hand, moaning his name again and again, like a prayer. Maybe he was, he was praying for Luca to stay, because he couldn’t handle the loneliness that slowly creeped in as soon as he came deep inside and pulled out (it meant that he’d leave again) as if Pecco was only a routine that he went through every week and nothing more.

Luca didn’t even ask where the bathroom is because he had been here so many times. Pecco laid on his bed, letting Luca get the wet cloth from somewhere—cleaning him up after. The smile that he gave him should be illegal, it was cruel, really. He could’ve just left like any other person, since they weren’t anything, but he did spare some time to make sure he was alright. He wanted to hate him, to punch that pretty face of his, to yell insults, that way maybe he’d get over them—no—him and Luca.