Archive of Our Own

Teamwork has always meant close cooperation within it for the better and more successful achievement of goals.

Their company wasn't particularly large right now.

Five people, but they were already doing a good job.

However, from his first appearance, Gelato had little interest in interacting with anyone there.
Moreover, the blond guy with many eyes seemed to dislike him altogether.

He couldn't care less.
The most he could spend his time on was brief conversations with the leader, who was also taciturn, and with Formaggio, but only because they already knew each other.

Working here might have seemed like a real social burden, one Gelato was planning to avoid in the future, if only a couple of days after his arrival, he hadn't encountered another member of the team.

Sorbet.
Damn.

To his own shock, this tall, dark prince attracted Gelato's attention almost, no, instantly.

Just one glance, the scent of expensive cologne, was enough for this man to fill his head.

He even managed to creep into his dreams.

The Devil himself, no less.

And even though their personalities turned out to be somewhat different, they got along surprisingly well.
Almost too well.

They were often assigned to work together, and Gelato had little interest in understanding the reasons.
And all their joint missions were successful, even... fun? They easily shared each other's views and thoughts, and conversation topics seemed to emerge one after another.
Even moments of silence seemed so pleasant and

Oh.

It was as if fate itself had brought them together for some unknown feat.

It was amazing how Sorbet managed to combine stupidity, professionalism, and the strange rottenness that Gelato was so drawn to.

However, along with their captivating friendship, a small problem arose.

The gloomy prince had developed an idiotic habit of taking Gelato with him everywhere.

Not that he minded.
Spending time together was pure pleasure.

But not when Sorbet, for some reason, was always asking him out.

With other people.

The first time it happened, his world turned upside down, completely changing the way he'd lived all these years.
But then, after they'd sat in the car for 10 minutes, waiting for some cloyingly sweet blond guy, he was already thinking about how he could successfully break legs to them both in the same expensive restaurant they were sitting in.

Sorbet would like these women with dicks?
He'd rather strangle himself than believe this utter bullshit.

Moreover, Sorbet had never been much for socializing with others, always looking down on people, even if they were acquaintances or close to him. If such people even existed.

Damn, this all seemed like nonsense.

Gelato didn't even have a damn chance to leave.
Sorbet seemed to sense his attempts to escape, and as a result, he clung to him like a puppy to its mother's tail, dragging him along with a death grip.

One could say he should have appreciated such trust and his role as a security guard, but not when that same man could single-handedly take down a crowd of armed, sick bastards.

He was one of those sick bastards, after all.

This is some kind of mockery.

And even more of a mockery were all those ridiculous guys who somehow thought they could talk, touch, look at Sorbet. Breathe the same air with him.
As if they'd earned that right by virtue of their accidental birth.

But that's okay.
And he personally made sure that all those men returned home safe and sound late at night.

– And how much longer do we have to wait for that idiot?

Every word, every sound, with heaviness and venom, broke through Gelato's clenched teeth, barely able to contain himself, sitting in the car at night, propping up his bored head with his hand, and rhythmically tapping the fingers of his other hand on the dashboard in order to somehow release his emotions.

Despite his sometimes, almost always, careless nature, Sorbet was always punctual and organized. Which was hardly a plus when they always arrived 10-15 minutes early, ultimately ending up waiting for the next candidate to sign a suicide warrant.

– Oh, don't be so rude, he's a good guy.

Good guy.
As if, with their work, after all they'd done, that word even mattered.

Sorbet leisurely climbed into the car with two cups of coffee from the nearest convenience store. He even took his gun off safety for the walk, just to quickly deal with any problems that might arise.
Arguing with teenage hooligans was the last thing he was interested in right now.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he held out a glass for Gelato, who merely rolled his eyes and looked away in response.

Closing the door, Sorbet calmly settled into a more comfortable position.

It was the parking lot where they'd carried out one of their recent missions. It was already late, very late, which could only mean one thing. This time, no one was willing to throw money around.
Which was surprising. Sorbet never even considered people unless they were interesting victims or had good money.

Of course, all that money ended up in his pockets.

Amazing man.

But the most damned thing was that this time they'd been waiting for an hour.

– If we wait for him half the night, I'll personally cut the arteries in both your throats.

A barely suppressed smile flashed across Sorbet's face at the irony of these words, which he quickly suppressed, taking a sip of his invigorating Americano, with two spoons of sugar for Gelato and no sugar at all for himself.

– Just like all the others?

The counter-question plunged the car's interior into deathly silence, even the world around them seemed frozen, afraid to make a sound.
And Gelato froze along with him, not even having time to raise the coffee to his trembling lips.

How was he supposed to interpret those words?
Sorbet knew everything?

Of course he knew Sorbet had never been an idiot, despite how it might seem at first glance, but he was certain he had done everything cleanly and without a trace.

Unless...

– Well…

He desperately tried to turn the whole thing into a joke, wondering if he'd completely misunderstood it, but Sorbet, as if he knew, interrupted him, relieving him of his torment.

– Besides, there's no need to wait, he's already here.

Gelato, primarily relieved by these words, sighed with irritation, remembering why they'd gathered here in the first place.
Leaning back wearily in his chair, he reluctantly turned his half-closed gaze out the window, calmly scanning the rainy evening street, seeing everything, cars, puddles glinting under the streetlights, but not a single person. In fact, there weren't any people in sight.
So he looked again, this time more intently and, perhaps, perplexed.

– Either I'm getting old, or you've completely lost your mind. Where is that jerk?

Sorbet isn't rushing to answer, in fact, he seems more than enjoying the whole situation, sipping his coffee and looking with a satisfied smile at the bewildered Gelato.

– Here.

– I'm about to hit you.

What makes this situation even more irritating is Sorbet's feigned innocence, his lips pouting in a huff with a quiet hum, forcing Gelato to convulse between understanding and denying his own assumptions, not understanding, or not wanting to understand, how much they're true and which ones.

– Ah. I see. So he just ran away.

– No, and I hope he doesn't run away for a very long time. Maybe never.

Sorbet casually averted his meaningful gaze, gently swirling the glass in his hand, before leaning closer to Gelato on his second sentence, resting his chin on his hand. This left Gelato completely lost, looking either irritated or something else, he himself couldn't understand what emotions he was feeling, and ultimately just snorting under his breath and turning away, pressing himself against the window.

– Stop this-

This time, Gelato himself doesn't let himself finish, suddenly remembering that the earlier conversation hadn't gotten any traction, let alone any answers.

– Wait. You knew about the murders?

He turns sharply to Sorbet, causing him to flinch in surprise.

– God, I'm not an idiot. Every new guy I've met has vanished without a trace the next day. What a shame, what could it be?

Gelato was overcome with a new wave of anger with every word he heard.

– Why did you drag me along then, you bastard?

– So, if I hadn't invited you, you wouldn't have touched them?

He wasn't ready to answer. Not now. Not later. Probably never.

– Besides, why did you even agree then? You were afraid that-

He doesn't have the chance to finish, interrupted in the most unexpected way possible.
The blow, deliberately aimed with the knuckles, lands directly on the bridge of his nose, forcibly pushing Sorbet back and pinning him between the fist and the side window for several seconds.

For a few, but noticeable, moments, he gasps for air as soon as the hand pulls away.
Grabbing his nose, pinching the bridge, and squinting, curled up with a poisonous hiss, until the not-scalding, but rather hot sensation of wetness from his own spilled coffee on his legs reaches his brain.

– FUCK.

Sorbet, more than a little hysterical than a surprise, jumps up from his seat as if he'd sat on a hedgehog, and immediately slams his head back into the roof of the car, causing him to fall back down, leaving him writhing in his seat like a snake on a frying pan, miraculously, no less, not hitting any transmitters.

– Bitch, what the fuck!

Despite the vigorous hurling of curses, they weren't even aimed at Gelato, but at the hot drink itself, as if it had leaped out of his hands and onto pants of its own accord.

After all, he'd spent money on the coffee, but he'd barely finished half of it.

– Shit- Does it hurt a lot?

– Oh, not at all. I like to shower with boiling water in the morning.

Gelato didn't particularly appreciate the joke, if not actually got even more angry.

– Although it was much hotter to think about you slitting the throats of all those idiots while they slept.

Okay, maybe the joke was better than that.
However, he chose to ignore the words, too focused on Sorbet desperately shaking off the coffee, which had unfortunately already soaked into the fabric.

– He turned down the date?

– I didn't ask anyone out.

Sorbet's spitting became noticeably more irritated, but not at all because of the pants incident.

– You fucked with them?

– Idiot? You fucking killed them that same night!

Sorbet frowns at the stupidity of the situation, then, without thinking, grabs an empty coffee cup and throws it at the Gelato.

– And don't make me a fucking slut!

– Bitch?!

Grinning, Gelato reflexively clutches his own glass, spilling some of its contents all over his hands and the car's interior. Only then does he throw it back, causing to flinch and reflexively shield himself from the throw.

He'll later come up with a plan to change his identity and flee the country when Sorbet realizes the car's interior is now soaked in coffee.

– Piece of shit!

– Faggot!

Rushed by adrenaline, they grab each other by the collar with almost simultaneous force and aggression, glaring at each other until the final insult hangs in the air between them, ringing loudly in their ears long after it's been uttered.

Both, without even discussing it, decided to let the silence swallow all the oxygen. Neither could muster anything resembling human speech.

– Do you like me?

– Your nose is bleeding.

Sorbet almost reaches out to check, but a trail of blood from his nose makes itself known, staining the handbrake with more than just coffee.

– Want more?

– Yes.

A fleeting second passes between them as Gelato adds new wrinkles to his forehead.

– What question exactly does that answer?

– Both, if you don't let go.

– You too.

They surprisingly squint almost simultaneously, checking each other out, and then, one after another, seconds apart, release their grip, turning away in oppressive silence.

And what should one do in this situation?

One hadn't planned anything beyond admitting the true purpose of his earlier actions.

And the other couldn't even imagine finding himself in such a situation.
Not that he was complaining, of course.

He really liked Sorbet.
He didn't understand why or what had attracted him to this man almost immediately from the moment they met.
And he didn't believe in love at first sight.

Let alone love in general.
Which made the whole situation seem even worse.

But even so, even with all his attempts to explain himself, only to become even more confused, he couldn't deny the strange attraction they both undoubtedly felt for each other.

– Are you gay?

Gelato asked, barely audible, even to himself, but then his eyes narrowed with the realization of the stupidity of his own question, considering he couldn't recall a single woman Sorbet had ever seen.

And it wasn't like he'd ever spoken particularly positively of them.

– Are you serious?

The question sounded like a reproach.
And that's what it was.

– Yes, you're right, it's a stupid question.

– I should be asking you that!

It would have been better if Sorbet had called him an idiot too.
He no longer understood what he wanted from this situation, or even from himself.
Why was accepting this fact so much harder, especially when there was an arm's length between?

That's why he couldn't bring himself to speak, or even think of anything coherent, only sitting and glaring angrily at the unfortunate window, coated in a thin layer of moisture from the heat, literally, spilled inside.

– I don't know.

Sorbet, wirh self-control cracking at the seams, rolls his eyes, coming face to face with all this stupidity.
Why couldn't he just turn around and kiss?
Was that too much to ask?

– Did you get hard for women?

– No.

With all theatrical skill possible, Sorbet demonstratively spreads his arms, as if there can be no other possible conclusion.

– But for men too.

At this response, he raises a thin, black eyebrow in irritation and leans forward slightly, just enough for his reflection to appear next to Gelato's, their gazes locking, forcing him to finally turn face to face.

They're almost nose to nose, looking at each other as if they should have been throwing fists in a late-night parking lot long ago.
Or something completely different, diametrically opposed, but just as wild and dirty.

– I didn't sleep with any of those guys.

Gelato chooses to remain silent.

– They had money, so even if it turned out there was nothing between us but friendship, I at least could get something out of it.

Friendship.
They both understood how ridiculous the word sounded between them, how ridiculous it was after the way they'd looked at each other, the way they'd crowded into the same chair because they didn't want to sit with anyone else.
But they still couldn't fully accept the true nature of these feelings.

– You used them?

– They made me sick.

Sorbet leaned closer, hissing a reply through his teeth, like a black mamba scuttling through the undergrowth.

– You planned it all.

— I'm not particularly good at this, you know.

Gelato wasn't sure what answer he'd originally wanted.
But perhaps that was only because he didn't know what to do.

Social, platonic relationships, none of that was for him.

– So what's your answer?

He winced, looking away as Sorbet continued to press forward, pursuing his goal. Even here.

– And what do you want me to say? That I like you? That I'm in love with you?

– Yes. Me too.

A sharp grin spread across Sorbet's face, catching Gelato frowning again, but this time with a far more confused and awkward expression.

After all, he'd been crossing his fingers for this outcome. Both of them.
But in reality, it was much harder to process.

It was overwhelming that he was embarrassed right now.

Although, if you think about it, he doesn't have much experience in social relations, and even if he did, begging for mercy can hardly be called communication.

– Hell...

– Yes, that's exactly where you'll end up for the dirty car.

Gelato's gaze shot up, so spontaneously that almost bumped noses with Sorbet, who was suddenly leaning close. Too close.

– And then you'll give me a head on your knees because you'll be owing me a fortune in dry cleaning fees.

– I wouldn't put anything in the mouth of someone who likes to chew on lollipops.

He demonstratively bares his crooked teeth, that couldn't even dream about braces on, clicking together in a silent threat, revealing protruding incisors.
However, this gesture only turned Sorbet on even more. Both of them.

And they both knew it. Felt it.

He bites his thin lips, looking down in anticipation at that dog-like snarl.

– Don't worry, I know other interesting places.

– Not after you, asshole, terrorized me for so long.

The feigned anger was only reflected in an innocent, drawn-out moan from the chest partially exposed beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt.
Propping his head on his hand, he leaned closer, deliberately making Gelato sweat. It was so hard for him to restrain himself from finally latching onto that chatty mouth.
But whether it was a sign of aggression or an act of passion was another matter entirely.

– Open the glove compartment.

A ruffled golden brow arches in confusion at the spontaneous request, or perhaps the order. Knowing Sorbet, he obediently follows, purely out of self-interest.
His green eyes flicking to the side, he extends his fingers, rough with scars and calluses, deftly tugging the handle and opening the coveted glove compartment.

How much trash this man had, tempered by strict discipline.
Scattered, crumpled papers, weapons, ammunition, but most importantly, that stood out from the crowd…

– Condoms.

– And lube.

Gelato's mouth suddenly goes dry.
With shame, for some reason feeling like a schoolboy in front of a high school girl.

– Is this for your little money bags, or you were just so confident?

– Damn confident.

Chuckling at the smug, smug grin, he carefully picks up the three packages stapled together, assessing their size.

– Were you wondering or spying on me in the shower?

– I thought I'd pay you a compliment.

The caustic response was expected.
In fact, it was precisely what Gelato had been hoping for, and it was this response that elicited a quiet chuckle, because Sorbet had hit the right size with surprised accuracy.

Whether intentional or not, it was definitely yes, but he didn't voice the fact out loud.

Although, looking at Sorbet's surprised face, perhaps it really was nothing more than luck.

– I've never had sex in a car before.

– As if you've ever had it.

No matter how strong his desire to respond to yet another barb, which seemed to be begging for his nose to be broken, Gelato doesn't have time to respond, or even think, before he catches his breath.

Sorbet casually slouches over the partition, resting his hands on Gelato's tense shoulders and looming over him.

– That's a terrible pose.

Sorbet frowns.
It was his favorite pose.

Straightening up ostentatiously, he leans back to deliberately emphasize his sinewy yet sturdy muscles, hardened by the harsh military, sharper than fishing line and stronger than a metal beam.
Gelato's hand simply couldn't help but run along them.

– Are you just going to sit there doing nothing? You really are a complete zero.

– Shut up before I knock your teeth out.

The sight of Sorbet leaning forward excitedly makes it hard for him to remain indifferent, trapped between heavy blue eyes and the passenger seat.
The car was getting a bit stuffy.

– Go ahead. Then it'll be even easier to suck you off.

Gelato felt his breathing getting harder, whether from the pressure, or the tightness, or the very fact that Sorbet was so close in this position, not to mention all of them at once.

A little more and he could almost swear he was steaming from his nostrils, that much hot he was getting in that damn jacket.

In that damn car and under that damn man.

And Sorbet felt it.
He felt that source, making that miserable little face sweat, adding new pressure from above, deliberately lowering himself and pressing against the noticeable bulge.
The protruding silhouette made him fight the butterflies in his stomach, insistently shaking and wiggling his hips.

– Are you a virgin?

Whether with another twitch or with genuine curiosity, it was hard to tell, Sorbet asked, massaging the taut muscles of shoulders with his fingertips.

– Jealous already?

Gelato's answer only made him want to roll his eyes.
Yes or no, the answer was completely unimportant. The mere sight of his already wet hair ends, his pursed lips, and his eyes fixed on his black trousers carried all the meaning possible for him, regardless of the answer or the actual fact.

They involuntarily, without even realizing it, draw closer, pausing before each other, either hesitantly or deliberately dragging it out to provoke, to frankly annoy each other and themselves.

However, it wasn't until the moment when both of them almost simultaneously lost their patience, even though Gelato, unlike the raven-haired beast's violent temper, could boast of far more professional composure.

In any other situation…

Because now, smelling every hint of tobacco, caffeine on each other's breath, the cologne Sorbet was wearing, they involuntarily crash into each other, miraculously keeping their teeth and noses intact.

– Touch me already. You're driving me crazy.

Sorbet hisses through the kiss, no, through actual sparring, touching, pressing, swallowing saliva as if it were the only source of water, and burying his long, slender fingers in unruly, simply unkempt golden hair.
And perhaps only because of this was Gelato able to force himself to cling to Sorbet, roughly, pressing his fingertips and nails into the poor skin, but eventually sliding his fingertips down thin thighs, gathering his perfectly ironed shirt, tracing the line of his straight back with soldier-honed posture, until he finally found the right spot.

Yanking the belt, his palms finally open onto his protruding buttocks.

Sorbet was clearly in charge, and Gelato felt it. But more than that, he couldn't bring himself to resist.

Or he simply didn't want to.

– Undress me.

– Isn't that too many commands?

– Go cry about it.

A careless laugh escapes his lips, growing even more so when Sorbet casually begins unbuttoning this sickeningly swamp-colored jacket.
Gelato, however, doesn't immediately try to match the pace, his hands trembling with the energy seething within him as he blindly unbuckles the belt on his black pants. By that point, Sorbet has already unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his chest and flat stomach. Without giving him a chance to think, he yanks Gelato's hair toward him, forcing him to smash with his lips.

The pierced tongue finds the nipple almost immediately, without wasting a second, as if they'd been preparing for this their entire lives, colliding with it, catching the nub and playing with it, caressing it, before curiously squeezing it between jagged teeth.

– Fuck- Asshole.

Sorbet chokes on his own tongue, but his fingers tighten in his golden curls.

– Go on.

He whispers on an exhale, swallowing a moan and quietly watching as wet tongue and clinging lips glide around the pink mound with exquisite pleasure.

– I'm sure it would look even cuter on a dick.

His thick golden brows furrowed heavily, yet even so, he didn't look up for a second, didn't even hesitate, allowing Sorbet to click tongue without risking losing his teeth.
And the dull click, nothing else but lubrication, almost made the tips of his ears twitch in anticipation, already anticipating how it will be used.

– Damn, when we get home-

A heavy wheeze pierced his lungs as Sorbet casually, hastily inserted his fingers, not cooing, using both at once.

– We'll do it again.

Gelato interrupted.

– I'll fuck you.

The growling warning felt like a tempting gift, to which Gelato could react in no other way than to hum approvingly, savoring the salty taste of surprisingly soft skin, the firmness of the muscles beneath which caused a slight tingling in his throat, and with his hands kneading, spreading his buttocks, allowing and helping insert his fingers deeper, while his tongue swirled around the already swollen nipple.

– Need a little help here?

Like a cat after a valerian, Gelato licked his lips, lowering Sorbet's black pants and underwear as much as their extremely awkward position would allow, wanting to pull out his now hard, leaking flesh, left a damp spot on the fabric of his boxers.

Sorbet himself, biting his lip, didn't respond. Much as he wanted to tease, to respond, he was too busy trying to not cum that quickly, unable to wait any longer.
His aching cock twitched against rough palm, but that only made the feeling hit his chest harder.

However, he wasn't about to let this brazenly disheveled brat handle the situation so easily.
Reminding about himself, he forcefully pressed Gelato's lips to his own breast, but this time to the second nipple, with which his mouth was more savvy and resourceful.

– God, fuck it.

Sorbet curses, feeling an utter inability to concentrate as he clenches inside from Gelato's touch, his voice, and the sight of him.

– A condom.

He hisses, hunching over Gelato's ear and thrusting his angular hips out to give him more room.

Reluctantly pulling away, searching out the corner of his eye for the pack, Gelato continued to bite and lick the unfortunate reddened nipple, which would definitely hurt like hell the next morning, while unzipping his pants, breathing heavily as he finally pulled out his own throbbing cock, which seemed almost to howl from its release from captivity.

Sorbet, at the sight of this long-awaited sight, which only yesterday he could only see in his dreams, couldn't help but smile, not knowing why.
As if he'd never seen a dick in his life.

Definitely not after a shower in the army.

– Faster.

He continued to wag impatiently, digging his fingers in and roughly squeezing, tugging at the short golden hair, listening irritably to the scraping sound with which Gelato tore and opened one pack, taking out the rubber, and with a few deft movements enveloping the organ in a moderately thin but confidently enveloping protective layer.

He doesn't even have time to mention it before Sorbet is already eager to get to work, lowering herself and pressing himself, rubbing his ass against his cock, already lubricated thanks to the condom.

– Stop.

Gelato growls with a rasp, digging his nails into Sorbet's tense buttock with one hand, motioning to lift his hips slightly, giving him the lead.
And as soon as he receives a response, he firmly thrusts the tip into the barely stretched center, feeling the trembling, wet ring of agitated muscle and pressing tightly, already feeling Sorbet barely restrain himself from taking control.

– I'll do it myself.

In response, Sorbet continued to grumble, dissatisfied with the slowness, slapping Gelato hard on the shoulder. Gelato, albeit reluctantly, pulled away, placing his hands on rather understated but nonetheless inviting buttocks.

He wiggled slightly, trying to find the most favorable position and angle.
Pressing his lips to Gelato's forehead, a hot palm closed around his cock, firmly and firmly guiding it in the right direction.
His hips moved slightly, deliberately rubbing his hole against the head, before he actually, they both could hardly believe it, began to descend.

The soft, tender walls stretched freely, though with a slight tension, around the penetrating thickness. The sensation vibrated along the nerve endings of his spine, causing Sorbet to involuntarily arch his back from the strange fullness when he was barely halfway there.
The long wait, the foreboding exchange, and the process alone were enough to make him fight the urge to cum, his twitching cock straining against Gelato's stomach.

He himself, in fact, had his head thrown back, barely able to think, unable to think of anything except how Sorbet seemed to be deliberately pulsating, convulsively contracting around him.

– Damn…

A quiet, satisfied laugh could be heard from above, as Sorbet rested his free hand on the roof of his beautiful black Lancia Beta, smiling as he traced his thumb over the twitching Adam's apple in Gelato's tense throat, bouncing with every movement of his hips.

– Fuck, can you-... normally-

Growling with the energy blazing through his body, he clenches his tense buttocks, irritated by the incomplete, teasing, downright mocking... not even thrusts, but rather the harmful side-to-side wiggling of his hips, causing the lumpy walls inside to rub so sweetly against his most sensitive edges, as if deliberately.

This is complete crap. He didn't intend to cum so shamefully.
And he definitely didn't intend to cum from these provocations.

– Wait.

Gelato growled, yanking Sorbet with a heavy hand without warning, almost with hitting, like a rag doll, pinning to himself, causing Sorbet's lungs to sag.

– Bastard, what are you doing.

Sorbet grinned and pushed, suddenly hearing the scraping sound of plastic packaging and noticing and feeling the pressure of the elastic band that Gelato blindly slid onto him with one hand.

– We've already dirty the car.

– We?!

All that escapes Gelato's lips is a light chuckle, amused by the response, before, without giving him time to recover, he grabs him by the collar of his annoying shirt.
Without calculating his strength, he yanks without a second thought, slamming Sorbet back into the car seat. Driven by pure impulse, he hits the door, the glove compartment, and, to top it all off, the back of his head on the roof, taking all the bruises himself.

– Fuck, this is the worst sex I've ever had.

– And your first.

Sorbet hisses venomously through the pain, his elbow slamming against the handbrake and his back against the damned partition in the middle, seemingly saying this more out of reflex than genuinely wanting a reaction, and therefore completely ignoring the frown thrown his way.

But thankfully, Gelato doesn't ignore him, despite the same pain, kindly helping him return to reality.

A sharp thrust of his hips hits his ass hard, finally eliciting from Sorbet the long-awaited groan he still couldn't believe, muffled by his position, instead of the annoying, sarcastic words.

– I like it much better this way.

Like someone who's been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day since birth, Gelato wheezes, jerking his jacket off and throwing it somewhere in the backseat.

Broad palms, covered in scars of various origins, lovingly slide down sinewy legs, bringing them together and draping them over a shoulder hard with tension. One arm encircles him, lips softly pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to his smooth calves. The other, flexing its strong muscles, rests against the back of the passenger seat, casting a majestic shadow over Sorbet.

However, this only seemed to excite him more.
The sight of strong curves, the crooked teeth protruding, the thin gap between which his heavy breathing escaped, even the sweat dripping onto him sent scalding goosebumps through his body.

– Fuck, Gelato…

He groans softly, closing his eyes, not caring about the knife in his back or the bullet in his forehead, his hand gripping the back of the seat in an attempt to somehow soften the unpleasant friction against it as the back of his head jerked against it for the first time, as if on cue, the entire car, along with him, lurched forward with the first full thrust, one after another crashing into him at a rough, brutal pace, yet filling him so perfectly every damn time.

– If you cum without using your hands-

– Shut up.

– I might even give you a blow job when we get back.

Gelato grinned, finally achieving the power he desired, not even realizing how much more he truly desired.
Biting his lip in anticipation, he shifted his position, straightening his back as much as possible given their position, and gripping his legs firmly with both hands, focusing precise, targeted thrusts and, as if to spite him, rubbing the curve of his cock head precisely against his prostate, making Sorbet almost whined, howling from not knowing what to do with himself.

– Idiot.

Sorbet hisses through his teeth, clawing at the upholstery of the chair, craning his neck, hunching his shoulders, either fighting his own body or, on the contrary, praying to all the gods in existence, until his whimpers are finally heard.
Everything inside him contracts, tightening around the thickness as he finally cum, greedily gulping in hot air with each impulse.

The exhausted member twitched, skin slapping against skin, filling the pliantly stretching condom with spurts of white semen, accompanied by quiet, smug chuckles from above.

– Such a tempting offer?

Sorbet bit his lips, his tongue, his frown burning into Gelato's unwavering gaze.

He'll definitely wipe that stupid smile off that stupid face.

– Okay, I'm willing to keep my promise for you.

– Faggot. Don't be so cute.

Gelato shrugged, ignoring the purring insult and leaning toward Sorbet, not only helping him test his flexibility but also gently kissing his forehead, which arched in confusion.

– I can't when it's you.

A wet tongue licked the salty taste of sweat from his lips until Sorbet suddenly reached out, meeting their lips in a kiss.

They exchanged indecent moans into each other's mouths as Gelato continued to pound him relentlessly into the chair, each thrust making him ache, squirm, and convulse from the orgasm he'd just experienced.

– Bitch. That hurts.

Sorbet whines angrily, squeezing golden curls so hard it's a miracle he doesn't rip them out.

– And yet you won't tell me to stop. I'm usually used to victims begging me for mercy.

– Victims?!

Holding back a smile proved to be an impossible task, certainly not with the angry Sorbet sprawled beneath him, unable even to suppress his moaning groans.
And he understood perfectly well, barely maintaining any stable orientation in space himself.

However,
He had lost all sense of reality ever since they first met. Not to mention every moment they'd spent together.

Short, tousled hair, grown out after the army, giving him a hedgehog-like appearance, jet-black skin, damp with sweat, even teeth bared in groans, occasionally clenching his lower lip, crystal blue eyes, hungrily capturing his reflection in dilated black pupils.

This was a damned little devil, come to reward him for all his sins.

– Sorbet.

– Shit, what else!

– I'm gonna cum.

The pupils narrow from the words spoken too untimely, too intimately, too honestly, as if each other's sensations at that moment were worrying them.

And they were.

– Idiot?! Don't tell me that!

– I can't. I want you to know what you're doing to me.

– Brat.

Sorbet hisses, desperately closing his eyes, blindly clinging and hugging Gelato around the neck.

Damn, he could already feel his ass going numb and his back aching from this awkward position.
For the first time, he felt like an idiot, as if he hadn't realized that this very outcome had been predetermined from the start.
But even so, he couldn't complain. Not with Gelato so deep inside him.
Not when Gelato was hugging him and kissing him like he was the most intimate thing in the world.

And certainly not when they're so close.

– Fuck.

Gelato growled through a weakened groan, drooling like a damn dog, biting Sorbet's trembling neck to concentrate, to fix his brain on at least one specific sensation, and knocking a groan out of him, no, out of both of them, cut off by the final, ringing thrust.

Sorbet could only breathe heavily, staring blankly at the ceiling, not only because of the teeth squeezing his carotid artery, but also frozen by the sensation of a hot bulge forming inside him, burning his entire body and fueled by convulsive, reflexive, incomplete thrusts, prolonging the sensations of orgasm for both of them.

– Hell…

With a trembling wheeze, he carefully grasps Gelato's cheekbone, tracing the protruding bone with his thumb until the caress is cut short with a slap across his cheek, albeit as light as their position allowed, but quite sobering.

– You're like a stray dog!

The insult only elicits a smirk, allowing him to open his jaw around throat and gently lick the bite site.

– I hurt all over...

– Oh, really? Amazing, I feel like I've been sleeping in a royal chamber.

Sorbet spits poison, but it's too forced to be believable.
Even when he roughly pushes Gelato in the shoulder.

Neither of them had the strength.
And neither of them was entirely sure whether it was the sex, the emotions, or simply the setting, clearly too old for them.

– So what now?

– What do you mean.

His offended blue eyes locked onto green ones like a trap.

– You owe me a blow job.

Despite their deceptive anger, they both laughed, foolishly wasting their energy on conversation, making Gelato struggle to rise uper, bracing himself with his bent arms on the back of the chair above Sorbet's head.

They swallowed every word in their heads, unable to organize them into anything coherent, lost in each other's gaze, barely suppressing a smile.

– Can I drive home?

– You'll have to offer me your butt first.

Gelato pouted discontentedly.
Not that he couldn't, but the predictable, quiet smirk in response was too precious now. Or ever.

– You can. But only because…

– You love me?

– Yes.

Sorbet was too honest for a man soaked in sarcasm from head to toe, momentarily stunned Gelato.

But he was old enough to seize the situation with a death grip, leaning forward, their noses almost touching.

A moment of silence fell in the sweaty, sex-soaked car.

– What?

– Say it again. Yourself.

Sorbet frowned awkwardly, looking away.
After all, he'd never had this conversation with anyone before. And even if he had, it wasn't on his own initiative, instantly severing all ties.

But now...

– I love you.

The words were strange.
Not only the taste, leaving an unfamiliar aftertaste on their tongues, but even hearing them was strange to both of them.

He wasn't entirely sure if they made him feel nauseous or if he wanted to savor them more.

– I plan to hear that more often now.

– Hey, what about me?!

Gelato laughs, restrained but only from exhaustion, finally closing that awkward distance and, hugging, kissing gently.

– I love you too.

It's still weird.
But for some reason, their very beings were drawn to this phrase.

– But Risotto might not like this.

Sorbet instantly, almost reflexively, grabs the damp spot on his neck that Gelato had so calmly pointed out, remembering the bite.

– BITCH.