"Proud of you," he said again against my mouth. "So fucking proud."
"It was the right choice. Strategically." I pulled him closer. "Killing Vincent would've created more problems than it solved."
"I don't care about strategy right now. I care that you chose mercy. That you're trying to be better." He bit my lower lip. "That deserves celebrating properly."
"How properly are we talking?"
"Very. Thoroughly. Slowly." He pulled back and started unbuttoning my shirt. "I'm going to take my time with you tonight. Show you exactly how much I appreciate you choosing to be better than what you were raised to be."
"I'm still the same person, Emilio. I just made one different choice."
"One different choice is how it starts. Then another. Then another. Until you've built something completely different from what you were." He pushed my shirt off my shoulders. "Now stop talking and let me reward you for good behavior."
I let him take control. Let him undress me slowly while kissing every inch of skin he revealed. Let him push me down onto the bed and map my body with hands and mouth.
This was different from our usual dynamic. Usually I was the one in control. Setting the pace. Taking what I wanted. But tonight Emilio was worshipping me like I'd done something miraculous instead of just showing basic human decency.
"You have no idea," he murmured against my chest, "how much it means that you listened. That you chose differently because I asked you to."
"I'd choose differently for you every time. If you keep asking." My breath caught when his mouth found my nipple. "If you keep rewarding me like this."
He bit down lightly and I gasped. "I'll keep asking. And I'll keep rewarding. As long as you keep trying to be better."
He worked his way down my body with agonizing slowness. Kissing. Licking. Biting just hard enough to make me see stars. By the time he reached my cock I was hard and leaking and absolutely desperate.
"Please," I managed.
"Please what?" He looked up at me with dark eyes. Pupils blown. Lips swollen from kissing. "Use your words, Sandro. Tell me what you need."
"Your mouth. I need your mouth on me."
"Like this?" He licked a stripe up the underside of my cock. Slow. Teasing. Not nearly enough.
"More. Fuck, Emilio, more—"
He took me in his mouth. All at once. Deep enough that I hit the back of his throat. I shouted and my hips bucked upinvoluntarily. He held me down with surprising strength and worked me with his mouth until I was trembling and cursing and begging incoherently.
"Not yet," he said, pulling off with an obscene pop. "You don't get to come until I'm inside you."
I stared at him. We'd never done it that way. I was always the one fucking him. Always in control. Always the one taking.
"You want to—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
"I want to make love to you. Want to show you what it's like to surrender completely. Want to take you apart the way you take me apart every time." He kissed me softly. "Will you let me?"
I should say no. Should maintain my dominance. Should keep the power dynamic exactly where it had always been.
"Yes," I said instead. "Yes. Anything you want."
The smile he gave me was devastating. "That's my Sandro. Always surprising me."
He grabbed lube from the nightstand and slicked his fingers. "Spread your legs. Let me see you."
I obeyed. Felt vulnerable and exposed and absolutely electrified by the reversal of our usual roles.
His first finger pushed inside and I tensed. "Relax," he murmured. "I've got you. Just breathe."
I breathed. Tried to relax. Let him work me open slowly and carefully. He was gentle. Patient. Talked me through every sensation in a voice that was soothing and arousing simultaneously.
