Co-written with sweetedge.
xXx
Sex with Federico was always fast, furious, and violent. If Federico bled and couldn't walk afterwards, then it had been a good night for Vieri. He didn't do slow. He didn't do passionate. He didn't do loving. Dominating was all he wanted to do. Thus, Vieri wasn't sure what to expect when he had reluctantly agreed to let Federico set the pace. He figured it wouldn't be as fast, since Federico did nothing fast, but Vieri didn't figure he would go so damn slow.
His entire body trembled. He was sure the bastard behind him could feel it, crushed up against him, smothering him in a thick warmth.
Vieri was pressed flat on top the bed, his forearm against the bedspread. His face pressed into the crook of his arm, but it felt much too hot against his forehead. Or maybe his face was too hot. He didn't know. He didn't care. All he knew was that this had been going far too slowly for far too long. Too long spent pushed down against the bed with Federico inside him, barely moving.
A chest, a stomach, hips—Federico's chest and stomach, Federico's hips—shifted close. Vieri's tunic rumpled from the movement, sweat sticking the cloth to him, but he felt every bit of skin of those hips, his thighs, his—
Vieri groaned, eyes buried into his arm as Federico rolled his hips down and forward deeply in one slow, smooth foray. He couldn't help inhaling loudly, a harsh, stuttering breath, as his back arched. His fingers curled into the blanket, clawing at it. There was a hand over his, its fingers burrowing between his, and with a hard body at his back, effectively boxing him in. Federico pushed forward again, taking his sweet time, the pressure and friction and heat nothing but a lazy drawl.
Vieri growled deep in his throat, fighting to mask escaping and absurd high-pitched, impatient sounds of need. Every infuriated protest Vieri attempted lodged in his throat as fingers, damp with sweat, inched slowly up and down his length underneath him. Federico's weight held him down and kept him pinned into the bed, preventing Vieri from moving freely. All he could manage were tiny rocking movements with his hips, pushing himself into the mattress, into Federico's teasing palm.
It wasn't nearly enough. It wasn't a satisfying, gratifying stimulation. It was torturous and building, only making him more delirious with need.
The air oozed around them, fevered and heavy, making it difficult to catch his breath. He swallowed thickly.
"Fuck, you idiot. Move."
Federico only hummed in amusement and pressed leisurely against that spot within him. He rocked against it deeply, wearing a crooked smirk Vieri could feel. Vieri's snarl was choked into a whine, his body curving back with a hard shudder.
"Bastard."
Fingers slipped from where they intertwined through his own, leaving his hand still gripping the blankets tightly. A soft touch brushed over his cheek then, calloused fingertips pushing back strands of hair that clung to his face, warmed and sticky from exertion and arousal. There was heat across his neck and Federico's breath nuzzling his ear. Vieri felt the sly twist of lips against his skin widen into a mocking grin.
"I'm surprised you can still speak."
His whisper was so steady, without any hint of exertion, that it had Vieri glaring fiercely at the headboard in front of him over the fact that he himself was gasping shakily. Vieri squirmed under the unforgiving firmness of Federico's body, struggling to push himself up on his forearms to shove Federico off.
The light and maddening and unceasing touch of Federico's hand slowed, gripping him more tightly, more torturously. He jerked to a stop, eyes smashing shut, a groan stifled from teeth-bitten lips. His hand shot back over his shoulder to grab Federico's hair to yank it ruthlessly.
"I said," Vieri managed to breathe out, "to move."
"And maybe," said Federico, calmly grabbing the hand clawed in his hair, "I don't want to."
Vieri craned his neck to cast him an angry look. Since when did Federico not listen to him? He jerked against the grip on his wrist, pulling Federico's face nearer and wrenching harder until he winced. Vieri felt the flicker of eyelashes against his cheek. "If you don't start moving—"
"You'll what, Vieri?"
Amusement laced his voice, and Vieri nearly snapped at him. The words caught in his throat as Federico's hand left from its agonizing movements between his legs to wrap snugly around his waist, tucking him close to the hot body at his back. The arm pulled his hips up and off the bed, his forearm and knees having to hold his weight up. Federico continued to tease him.
"What are you going to do if I don't start moving?"
Federico leaned forward, his lazy ardor, heavy and relentless, pushed Vieri's upper body into the mattress, keeping his chest low to the bed. He held tight to Vieri's waist, dragging and coercing him to arch into the curve of an unyielding torso. Federico smirked as he drew out his next sentence, every soft, punctuated word sending fire straight to Vieri's arousal and shivers down his spine.
"What would you do," he asked, murmuring against a trembling shoulder, "if I decided to stay inside you," teeth nipped at the tender muscle along his shoulder to his neck, "just like this..." His mouth inflicted a kiss to the side of Vieri's throat before breathing a voiceless whisper into his ear, "The whole, entire night?"