Damiano started fucking him, hard and fast, his fingers holding Jordan’s hips in an iron grip, his face buried in Jordan’s nape. It burned a little but every time Damiano pulled out, Jordan found himself craving more. His hips were moving, chasing the pain-pleasure, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked as he moaned. He was too loud, he knew that, but he couldn’t seem to contain himself.
Damiano fucked like a machine, perfectly in control of his movements but with so much power. Soon enough, he set a punishing pace that rendered Jordan helpless, only capable of gripping the door frame and taking it.
He wanted to come so badly, but he never wanted this to end, either, so he tried to stave off his orgasm, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t—
His orgasm was ripped out of him, the most intense one in his life, and Jordan sobbed out, his hole clenching hard around the cock in him. The man behind him grunted, his breathing growing harsher. He thrust a few more times and went rigid, spilling into him. Panting, Damiano sagged against him, heavy and perfect. God.
God.
Jordan found himself smiling dazedly. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. He never wanted this moment to end. Never wanted them to be separated again.
The sound of approaching footsteps startled Jordan from his blissed-out state.
Shit. They were barely inside his apartment. The door was open. He was fully naked, with another man’s cock in him, even if Damiano was still mostly dressed.
Frantically, Jordan pushed Damiano off, barely managed to grab Damiano’s coat from the floor and all but jumped into the apartment. He caught a glimpse of Mrs. Brown, an elderly woman from the fourth floor, before the door slammed shut.
Jordan fell on his ass and burst out laughing.
“I’m glad one of us finds it amusing,” Damiano said, very dryly.
Still chuckling, Jordan looked up.
Oh.
It was positively unfair how flawless this man could look after fucking his brains out. Damiano had already fixed his fly and there was nothing betraying what he’d been doing a few minutes ago. He could have stepped off a GQ cover, with his thick, glossy dark hair, piercing eyes, and the perfect, angular symmetry of his face.
Jordan sighed and covered his eyes with his hands. Maybe if he didn’t see that face, he’d get a few brain cells back. He needed them, in order not to behave like a clingy, desperate cock slut. He still had some self-respect left. Not a lot, considering the fact that he’d all but begged Damiano to fuck him the moment he saw him.
“What are you doing in Boston?” Jordan said into his hands.
Silence.
“I came to visit Raffaele,” Damiano said stiffly.
Taking his hands away, Jordan gave him an incredulous look. “Try again,” he said, not bothering to hide his amusement.
Damiano glowered at him, his jawline tense in a way it got only when he was truly pissed off. Fuck, he was so hot when he was angry.
Jordan sighed on the inside, exasperated with himself. He got to his feet, becoming very much aware of his nudity when Damiano’s eyes raked over him hungrily. Talk about mixed signals.
“You must have missed him terribly,” Jordan said, stepping to Damiano and pressing his naked body to his fully clothed one.
“What?” Damiano said after a moment, so obviously distracted it would have been hilarious if Jordan hadn’t felt as distracted by his proximity. God, it was ridiculous. He’d just had the best orgasm of his life, but he already felt hungry for more, his skin crawling with the need for closeness. With need for this man. The need wasn’t even sexual, not truly, but it was the only way it could manifest, the only way it could be sated.
“Raffaele,” Jordan whispered, leaning their foreheads together. “You said you came to visit him. Did you miss him?”
Damiano kissed the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he said dazedly, his hands gripping Jordan’s ass and pulling him flush against him.
“Did you think of him all the time?” Jordan whispered, rubbing their mouths together, the touch barely there but causing his lips to tremble.
“Yes,” Damiano said, biting his bottom lip. “All the time.”
Jordan parted his lips. “He thought of you all the time, too. Kiss me.”
Damiano did.
And nothing else mattered for a long time.
Only him.
Chapter 24
Jordan had never really thought he had a high libido. His sex drive had always been good, nothing crazy. He wasn’t really the type of man to think of sex non-stop. He wasn’t the type to laze in bed with a lover for a day.
Until he suddenly was.
He and Damiano had had sex on every surface of his apartment over the past forty hours: the couch, the floor, the table in the kitchen, and of course, the bed—three times. It should have been physically impossible to have so much sex for a man in his thirties. But apparently his body hadn’t gotten the memo that he wasn’t a randy teenager anymore—it wanted more, no matter how much sex they had already had.