Micheletto observed his reactions with a hint of satisfaction, because even if Cesare didn't love him he was still the only person who ever saw the proud man like this; vulnerable and delirious with pleasure. He was the only one Cesare trusted enough to be open with. Had he been a different man he might have been tempted to take advantage of this trust. His lips pressed tenderly against the nape of the younger man's neck before he swiftly removed the hilt of his dagger from inside of the man beneath him, tossing it aside.
Cesare barely had a moment to cry out in protest before he was flipped onto his back. The silk sheets irritated his wounds and in turn they were stained with even more crimson. Micheletto unlaced his breeches, pulling his arousal free while the Borgia son adjusted his legs to better accommodate the condottiero. With one swift, brutal swift the older man was fully sheathed inside of him and without so much as a second pulled back to snap his hips forward once more.
His fingers scrabbled for purchase and a cry torn between pleasure and pain fell from his lips. His legs were hoisted up to rest on the older man's shoulders, stretching apart his wounds, bending his body near to the point of breaking. "Mi dispiace, Signore," Micheletto groaned apologetically, digging his fingers into the flesh of Cesare's calves to leave bruises and bloody crescents.
"N-No," Cesare struggled to form the words, delirious and breathless, ". . . ah! It's. . . " he threw his head back against the pillows with his dark hair sticking both to the fabric beneath him and to his face, "Good," he finally breathed with a shaky smirk.
The older man's hips slammed against his at an unforgiving pace, filling the increasingly hot air with the sounds of skin against skin and the slick sounds of his swollen arousal sliding in and out of the Borgia son. Unable to contain himself he allowed the younger man's legs to slide down around his waist before putting his hands around Cesare's throat and squeezing. Beneath his fingers he could feel the man swallow, feel each breath struggle to make its was through his lungs, and the blood pounding through his carotid arteries. In the morning there would be bruises and even as he rocked Cesare into the mattress the younger's face was beginning to turn red from air deprivation.
Fill--2/3
Cesare barely had a moment to cry out in protest before he was flipped onto his back. The silk sheets irritated his wounds and in turn they were stained with even more crimson. Micheletto unlaced his breeches, pulling his arousal free while the Borgia son adjusted his legs to better accommodate the condottiero. With one swift, brutal swift the older man was fully sheathed inside of him and without so much as a second pulled back to snap his hips forward once more.
His fingers scrabbled for purchase and a cry torn between pleasure and pain fell from his lips. His legs were hoisted up to rest on the older man's shoulders, stretching apart his wounds, bending his body near to the point of breaking. "Mi dispiace, Signore," Micheletto groaned apologetically, digging his fingers into the flesh of Cesare's calves to leave bruises and bloody crescents.
"N-No," Cesare struggled to form the words, delirious and breathless, ". . . ah! It's. . . " he threw his head back against the pillows with his dark hair sticking both to the fabric beneath him and to his face, "Good," he finally breathed with a shaky smirk.
The older man's hips slammed against his at an unforgiving pace, filling the increasingly hot air with the sounds of skin against skin and the slick sounds of his swollen arousal sliding in and out of the Borgia son. Unable to contain himself he allowed the younger man's legs to slide down around his waist before putting his hands around Cesare's throat and squeezing. Beneath his fingers he could feel the man swallow, feel each breath struggle to make its was through his lungs, and the blood pounding through his carotid arteries. In the morning there would be bruises and even as he rocked Cesare into the mattress the younger's face was beginning to turn red from air deprivation.