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Tiziano knew little about Squalo's family.
It had always been a distant, vague topic for both of them.
It wasn't that they didn't have those simple human dreams of introducing their betrothed to their parents, asking for a blessing, celebrating the New Year together.
But that was all for people with ordinary lives.
They couldn't afford such a pleasure, both for their own safety and, probably, for the safety of their family.
That's why when Squalo approached him with a serious face and informed him of the need to take a week off for family matters, Tiziano allowed him to do so without a second thought, giving him all the time he needed.
Although the realization that he would be alone for a whole week, especially considering that Squalo was his strength at work, was somewhat stressful.
But the Boss seemed to have been in a calm mood for some time, either the people at Passione had gone quiet in the face of some shit, or the power of this mysterious man had finally started to make them sit and keep their heads down.
Because he had been alone at home for about two days now.
It was calm, quiet, a little unusual, but he had managed to get a lot done, which was good news.
This morning he had already prepared food so as not to be distracted by it later, and also did a little cleaning because yesterday he had decided to give himself a little well-deserved rest, because quiet days, in fact, were not so often provided to them.
Tiziano had always been a person who preferred and valued order both around him and on himself, so he clung to every opportunity.
And today he finally was able to take the time and pay attention to the flowers, one of which he carried through the living room.
His beautiful, lush hydrangea, which had recently begun to bloom with its many tiny lilac flowers.
It was necessary to wipe its dusty leaves, since Squalo, apparently, had forgotten about it all the times he asked him.
However, when Tiziano fed his fish a minute late, he noticed it right away.
He would talk to him about it later.
However, apparently, Squalo's soul decided to make amends and help him with this instead of its forgetful owner.
At least, he would like to think so…
Out of the corner of his eye, Tiziano, without wanting to, catches a fleeting spark, a strange dark movement, followed by a splash of water, which makes him somewhat nervously meet the foreign presence next to him.
It takes a while, but he finds the strength to put the flower down and turn his head over his shoulder, only to be instantly met by the gaze of a three-eyed, shark-like creature staring straight at him like a lurking predator.
Although he was not sure that shark hunting could be compared to hunting by an ordinary carnivore.
How do they even hunt?
He will ask Squalo later.
– Can you really be that far away?
Tiziano is puzzled at first, but then frowns tensely and slowly, carefully rises to his feet.
They kept several open aquariums so that Clash could teleport between them, knowing how much energy often accumulated in this strange, incomprehensible from a natural point of view fish, which, thanks to the water, could accompany them to any corner of the house to be petted or just to be played with.
However, recently…
Lately, being close, no, just the thought of entering the room and running into Clash, made Tiziano break out in a cold sweat.
He loved him.
He loved him as much as Squalo.
But what had been happening to him lately...
Clash had started acting strangely.
Squalo began to control it less often.
No, not because he didn't want to.
He physically couldn't always take control of it, as if the stand itself refused to obey its owner.
Or maybe the owner himself couldn't come to an agreement with himself?
It was especially difficult within the confines of the house.
Clash attacked, bit, crashed, colliding with him with his whole body.
Not that he was really trying to hurt him.
It seems.
The bites seemed weak. No, they were weak.
But the suddenness and violence with which he did it each time caught Tiziano off guard, and he ended up twitching in fear and wounding himself on the many razor-sharp teeth that lined that huge mouth in several rows inside.
And that's not to mention what a problem it was when they were outside the house.
It's amazing how they didn't have any problems with the police or anything else during all this time, when several times right in front of a crowd of people in the middle of the street Tiziano began to bleed, spurt blood.
And if earlier, being nearby, Squalo could at least do something, if not recall the stand, then at least somehow physically fence him off, now, when he seemed not to even know that his stand was activated, Tiziano's heart was pounding with insane force.
The shark remained motionless in place the entire time, occasionally only wagging its tail and wriggling from side to side, but the position of its eyes was directed strictly at one target, maintaining emotionless eye contact, not a millimeter to the side.
Tiziano always welcomed Clash's company with pleasure, talked with him with pleasure, without even wondering whether there was understanding behind those three eyes.
But now
Now he wasn't sure he could find any words at all in this creepy and dangerous company.
After all, Clash was a deadly killing tool, capable of wounding even without using his jaws.
Tiziano still had quite a wound on his arm from the recent attack.
He had quite a few scars in general that hadn't completely healed, overlapping each other and killing any desire to look at himself in the mirror.
– Look, I'm not sure how sensible you are...
He sighs heavily, trying to clear the emptiness in his head, languidly scratching the back of his head.
– But if I offended you in some way.
He carefully lowers himself back into a crouch, deciding to take a more equal position between them, and extends a half-bent arm lightly towards the aquarium, trying to offer some semblance of a truce, not fully understanding what and how happened between them, before noticing Clash's sudden disappearance, accompanied by blinding sparks and a corresponding sound.
Teleported.
Tiziano sighs heavily again, no longer having the strength to continuously think about a possible solution to the problem.
Well, what can I say, he should first understand the problem.
Maybe he offended Squalo in some way? That's why his subconscious is trying to somehow defend the rights of its master.
Although it is unlikely that Squalo, with his character, could be so sincere if he was really offended.
He was about to leave, when he suddenly saw Clash appear again.
– What is this? Did you bring this for me?
His voice subconsciously changed tone, perking up a bit, as if he was talking to a puppy who had brought a ball.
At the very least, he tried to sound softer, so as not to possibly provoke a negative reaction.
He still wasn't entirely sure what Clash was.
The shark stand was swimming restlessly from side to side in the glass confines of the aquarium, holding a... rock in its mouth?
He had pulled out a black piece of rock from somewhere.
Perhaps how and where from was the last thing that worried Tiziano.
He certainly didn't want to think about it right now, at the very least.
With a jerk, almost reflexively, Tiziano rises from his seat and stretches his arms forward, jerking slightly in surprise, to catch the stone shard thrown to him.
He can't help but smile slightly, looking closely and with genuine interest at the strange, silly, but sweet gift.
– I hope this is an offer of truce. Your owner and I are not strangers, after all.
A small chuckle escapes his lips as he trembles, before he glances up at the intently watching Clash, giving a small gesture of his head in thanks for the gift and showing that he accepts it, before finally getting back to business and taking up his princess hydrangea.
However, the flower's leaves are washed instead.
A loud, painful sigh is forced from his lungs, his heart stops for a second in fear as Tiziano is covered from head to toe by a splash of water.
He barely manages to keep himself on his feet under the pressure of the sharp impulse, his wet clothes stick tightly to his body, his long hair, like a spider web, covers his face.
Confused and tensely grinning, he drops the stone with a crash, not so much from fear, but in an effort to quickly free his hands in order to try to immediately remove the curls from his eyes and regain the most important thing - visual control of the situation.
But he barely manages to hook his fingers into the hair, as he himself flies after the stone, when something large, heavy and... metallic hits his legs, right in the most painful place in the ankle area.
Still, giving in to a slight panic, he, crashing into the floor with his hands, tries to get up as quickly as possible, being now in an extremely vulnerable position, which should not have been allowed under any circumstances.
With what regret he hears a fleeting sparkling screech somewhere behind him, before he is forced to crash his chest into the floor with a dull wheeze, knocking all the air out of his lungs.
Tiziano doesn't have time to realize anything except the dull pain in his chest, as he howls brokenly, frozen from the pain that pierced his entire body.
Rows of sharp and unpleasantly large teeth sank into the skin in the withers, depriving him not only of the ability to move, he could not even think in this position, simply afraid to make even one wrong move.
Tiziano's heart was beating at a rate that was faster than even the world drum record, but at the time it was missing a beat.
He could have sworn that all of his organs were failing, and breathing was not just hard, it was impossible just from the realization of the situation he was in.
– Clash... let go. You're gonna kill me.
Through a trembling breath, he sluggishly raises his trembling hand and lowers it, resting it on Clash's nose, feeling under his palm only damp, strange to the touch metallic skin, covered with sharpened spikes and fastenings that painfully rubbed against his body along with the plates.
A multitude of sharp teeth in response to the unpleasant touch to the sensitive nose only sink deeper under the fragile, thin skin, forcing him to reflexively pull his hand away and hiss through clenched teeth.
To his horror, Tiziano feels several scalding streaks of hot blood trickle down his neck onto the floor, leaving a thick, dark-burgundy trail behind them.
Now he is thrown into a much more noticeable and, to his irritation, uncontrollable panic.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to think.
If he knew at least something about sharks, maybe he could come up with something, find an approach to this semblance of an animal, but being ignorant was the worst thing that could happen to him.
He knew perfectly well how dangerous Clash really was, so much so that he could easily kill a victim with a single movement of his jaws, let alone bite off a body part.
And this realization did not make his lot any easier.
– It's okay, Clash. You see, I don't want to hurt you at all. I never did.
Under a quiet whisper, trembling and weakened hands rise into the air in a sign of humble defeat.
Although he was not entirely sure how much the animal was able to understand this gesture.
But he was confident enough not to risk it, going over his options in his not very advantageous position, not moving, barely breathing.
And it seems to bear some fruit.
They both freeze in place.
But not for long, as Tiziano again feels a heavy movement on his back.
Clash begins to fidget, wriggling from side to side and scratching his skin even through the useless fabric of the unfortunate T-shirt.
And only when he felt the tail pressing against his ass with a slap, Tiziano realized how truly terrible a situation he was in.
All he could do, helplessly pinned to the floor by the huge, heavy shark carcass, was grin and growl quietly from the aching sensation of the metal, additionally covered with spikes and fins sharpened like real blades, cutting into his back.
– Fuck, Squalo…
This reaction seems to find a less than positive response within Clash, if such an expression is even appropriate here.
At least, that was the assumption, based on the circumstances.
The merciless stand jerks from side to side, no longer with its body, but purposefully with its head, holding Tiziano by the scruff of the neck in a death grip with its teeth and simply forcefully tearing out a piercing howl from him, filling the entire room, if not the entire house, because his skin is literally being torn.
A deafening white noise intensifies in his ears, drenching him in cold sweat.
– No, no, it's okay. It's okay, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at your owner.
Bleeding, which he tried not to think about, persistently ignoring the hot, but at the same time cold wetness, Tiziano with a trembling whisper, barely moving his tongue, with one hand languidly strokes the bulky shark on his back, feeling under his fingers the rough and at the same time perfectly smooth skin, if it could even be called that.
– We'll kick his ass together later, okay?
For a second, everything swims and darkens before his eyes, heavy eyelids stretch against his will, falling, but he quickly and sternly tries to pull himself together and concentrate.
He couldn't give up.
When was the last time he did that?
At the very least, he tried to stay conscious.
In a sober mind, if possible.
– I don't know much about sharks. Did you want my attention?
Hesitantly, he lifts the corners of his lips slightly, trying to make at least a fleeting eye contact out of the corner of his eye in the hopes of seeing at least some stream of consciousness in the Stand's head.
Even if he couldn't do it by nature.
He squints until his eyes hurt as Clash casually twitches his tail harder towards his ass, making his Adam's apple jump with excitement and inexplicable anticipation.
– You know... I'm much more generous when I don't risk getting killed.
Who would have thought that he would have to use all his oratory skills to conspiratorially whisper something somewhere into the wet floor, without even being sure of the intelligence of the interlocutor.
For greater persuasiveness, to relax and calm Clash, Tiziano gently strokes his muzzle, even trying to stretch his head to kiss him on the sensitive and vulnerable nose.
The feeling of a gradually weakening grip on his skin could not help but calm him down.
– Is it because I let my Talking Head play with Squalo? You want some love too?
With a low, ingratiating purr, he tries to focus on his breathing, keeping it steady and calm to avoid increased bleeding, carefully slightly arching his hips towards and pressing into the shark's tail in response.
And the reaction to this gesture was immediate, although far from the most pleasant, forcing him to face the snake's writhing movements again.
But it was so hard to scold him specifically for this.
After all, he had no hands to adjust his position or interact with.
Even though he was moving with difficulty under the wet metal carcass, Tiziano humbly exhaled deeply through his mouth, freeing and relaxing his lungs, and pressed his head with the left side to the floor.
He was still greedily clinging to every second to prepare himself mentally.
Although it was hard to say if it was even possible to prepare for something like this with such a stand.
A trembling hand carefully goes back, slowly stroking, scratching Clash's rough body, sometimes cutting into the protruding fastenings on the plates.
Only now did he actually think about how Clash felt when he was touched.
– I don't mind spending time with you, honey, there was no need to bite.
His whole body sings in bliss for a split second as rows of sharp fangs kindly slip out from under his skin, leaving a fleeting feeling of lightness, even breathing became sweeter.
If this bliss was not given to him only to be pierced from a different, fresh angle, again forcing him only by a miracle not to lose consciousness.
Probably to better hold on.
But that was probably the least of his problems.
Tiziano swallowed reflexively, every single muscle in his body tensing as the extra pressure slid menacingly between his legs.
And quite large, to his horror.
It seemed
It seemed there were even... two of them?
This information didn't make him feel any calmer.
– Well, I've already conquered one shark, so...
At first glance playful, but rather more nervous, if not frightened, he noted, trying to comprehend the tendrils rubbing between his buttocks, even through the fabric feeling their hot, but at the same time cool moisture and strange bumps on them.
He wasn't exactly sure how ready he was for this.
He wasn't sure of anything anymore, not when his world was suddenly turned upside down.
Even if he agreed, he'd at least have to stretch himself, especially with such big and definitely not smooth buddies, but Clash obviously won't let him do that.
– Clash, you will be kind to me, right? Like your dear dear master?
Pressing his ear closer to the floor, Tiziano tries to catch the gaze of one of the three crystals with a soft, albeit excited smile out of the corner of his eye, suddenly noticing how it seems to consciously change its position slightly so that one of its eyes finally meets Tiziano.
Well, apparently he did have a certain amount of understanding after all.
It couldn't help but please.
But the imminent approach and inevitability of the main event still didn't give him peace.
Relaxedly closing his eyes, he lowers his hand to his own thigh and slowly slides his fingers under the wet fabric of his shorts and underwear. With a neat, light movement, the clothes slide off the soft skin, sometimes moving and wiggling his hips, but only for a more convenient angle, especially in his position.
As soon as the underwear has time to slide under his tense buttocks, Tiziano instantly shudders, choking on his own sigh, meeting two strong, long-ready organs that have cut into his already bare skin.
Squalo is definitely going to be in trouble. Big trouble.
Regardless of whether he can walk after this shark swim or not.
– We'll only take one, okay?
Hesitantly, with trembling fingers, he grasps the hot, wet member with his full palm, feeling the soft skin, which contrasts sharply with the rough metal surface of the stand, only now fully realizing the thickness.
– Damn. You're a big boy, aren't you?
All he could do was bury his nose in his own bent arm to feel some peace and security, holding Clash by the cock to try to somehow control this writhing body.
– Who would have doubted it...
He bites his wrist sharply, almost drawing blood with his own teeth, and closes his eyes to concentrate, calm down and relax.
Quietly, as if he himself does not believe his own words, Tiziano whispers, ignoring the cutting pain and arching his back, slightly raising his hips.
He firmly rested his elbow on the floor with his other hand.
The first remained behind, gently, softly circling Clash's tail, caressing the plates where he could reach, his belly and, finally, very soon finding one of the organs.
With a deep breath, Tiziano tried to ignore the persistent nibbles on his back and neck, as hard as it was to shake off the feeling of teeth moving under his skin.
With a soft whimper, he lets the slippery cock rub between his buttocks a few times, at least slightly lubricating the unready, but as relaxed as possible, entrance before forcing the dripping tip into it.
He squints until his vision goes white as the tiny part barely makes it in.
And Clash either seems to be deliberately waiting until just a few inches are inside, or he just can't wait any longer.
He jerks his heavy fins, slams them into Tiziano's sides with a dull thud to hold him in place, and moves restlessly, chaotically, but not wriggling, but twitching his tail in a blind attempt to dive deeper.
But in the end, these pushes only served to kill the situation.
The organ slips out, painfully breaking off the edge of the fragile wall of the sphincter, colliding with an impressive length between the buttocks with a blow and bringing down piercing, agonizing convulsions on him.
– Fuck, don't move. At least half. Let me take at least half.
He hisses into his own hand and immediately squeezes the pulsating and needy organ in his palm as tightly as possible, to which Clash in response sank his fangs deeper into his skin.
But he wasn't sure what exactly this gesture meant.
He would have been worried about the new, fresh trail of blood rolling down his shoulders, but the adrenaline sternly dictated completely different decisions.
Already biting himself until he bled, with a slight nausea in his chest from the taste and loss of blood, Tiziano slowly but persistently accepts first the tip, then inch by inch plunging the member inside, breathing deeply, measuredly and sometimes only stopping to catch his breath.
– I think you can…
Tiziano doesn't have time to finish speaking, he simply doesn't have the strength to even think through the end of his words, as Clash immediately, holding on to him with his teeth, with all the strength in this powerful body, pushes forward, driving himself into several brisk and unconcerned about any consequences movements inside the exhausted and suffocating body.
And at the moment of each of these pushes, he clearly feels, ashamed of himself, how the second shark cock presses and rubs against him from below, causing light burning tingling in the lower abdomen.
All he could do was howl with the last of his strength as he was stretched mercilessly and harshly, pulled around the swollen thickness and rammed deep inside.
The air in his lungs was irretrievably knocked out with each thrust, leaving him gasping for breath from the lack of even a second's respite before a stream of rough thrusts immediately followed, jerking out and plunging back in.
– Fuck-
Never in his life would he have imagined that he would whine worse than a dog, pushing his other hand into the floor with a blow and almost injuring his own fingers, scratching the floor.
It was even harder to try to maintain a calm tone and even breathing, realizing the power of influence that his voice and emotions had on Clash.
Or maybe he imagined it himself. There was absolutely no time to think about it.
– Slowly, baby. You're hurting me.
Pressing his full chest into the floor, Tiziano hugs Clash by the head with one hand, touching the pointed corners of his muzzle with his palm, and crushing the walls with a moan that is aching from the burning pain and intensity, trying without resistance, so as not to cause himself even more harm, to accept deep thrusts, which, however, slightly shortened, which was impossible not to notice.
True, they didn't shorten for long.
Clash, surprisingly affectionately, despite the torment of the flesh, rubbed his nose against the back of Tiziano's head and neck.
It was more likely that he would have purred, if he had been able to make any sounds at all.
Tiziano's eyes began to darken with increasing frequency, but this was probably more likely due to the loss of an impressive amount of blood and a wound in the area of the accumulation of a large number of nerve endings, the size and depth of which was scary to even think about.
The other sex organ rubbed insistently against his own during each thrust, pressing tightly and cutting a path on the lower muscle, stimulating the tense testicles and making the body pitifully burn from the inside from the harsh confrontation of hellish pain and tiny, but such piercing sparks of pleasure.
– I hope... female sharks don't die during mating...
He whispers under his breath before piercing his own throat again with a low moan from the renewed, seemingly even with new force, thrusts.
Clash, it seemed, did not even plan to get tired.
Damn
Wonder how Squalo feels right now?
Definitely great, while he was literally fighting for his life here.
But maybe a hint of shame crept in somewhere inside.
Not only because he was being mercilessly fucked by a shark-like Stand right now.
It was hard to perceive him separately. Clash was the direct personification of Squalo.
And this thought shamelessly aroused him.
He grinned nervously, feeling himself getting harder from the cock perfectly filling him.
It was just like with Squalo.
Only heavier, wetter, and much more bloody.
It was really scary to even imagine, to think for a second about what was happening on his back and what he would feel when the adrenaline wore off.
But that would be later, right?
Now
Now he was going to make things even worse.
Literally choking, choking on his own tongue and the impenetrable lump in his throat, he presses his hand to Clash's tail, which, although not immediately, seemed to prompt him to at least slow down.
– Slow down, baby... Let me breathe a little..
Tiziano whispered selflessly, like a mantra, to which Clash not only began to wriggle from above in protest, but also forced him to break away from a whisper to a scream, again feeling changing the position of his grip and catching on at a new, fresh angle.
But even through the trembling, weakness and strength that was sapping with each passing moment, he still persistently pulled his hand, which was going numb from the crippling pain, to the second shark cock, as carefully as possible pulling it out from under himself and, biting his tongue, making several forward movements along the no less erect length, which only charged the stand with more energy.
Still, he couldn't shake off the pleasant sensation of soft, familiar flesh under his fingertips, the muscles inside tensing, and the viscous pre-cum dripping from the tip.
– You'll owe me, Squalo... for life…
Tiziano moans breathlessly, gradually feeling the tip of the second member and directing it to the tightly stretched, but already sufficiently tortured entrance.
– Don't move. Just don't move...
He begged convulsively, as if he really believed that he was being listened to.
However, Clash, surprisingly, seemed to have really frozen, allowing him to fully, without a fight, concentrate on pressing the organ into the tight walls that were far from immediately willing to accept him, no matter how hard he tried, throwing Tiziano into a light wave of despair as a result.
But with what kindness and attention Clash quickly, impatiently, especially feeling and seeing how much time and effort it already takes, helps him in this difficult task.
It is quite possible that he even purposefully waits to push his tail at the right moment and with some, when the body did not immediately have time to react, resistance to plunge the second member deep inside and instantly feeling how tightly Tiziano squeezed around him.
– Don't move. Don't move!
Tiziano's body shook like a bath leaf, not feeling his own limbs, not even his own thoughts, in his ears there was only an impenetrable roar caused by a heavy heartbeat that seemed about to break through the chest.
But the most terrible thing, at least for awareness, was that his own cock, even without friction, was oozing and twitching, sometimes even crashing into his lower abdomen with the threat of cumming at any moment.
From this thought that broke through the howling of his temples, a nervous laugh escaped from his trembling lips under his breath, folding his arms bent at the elbows in front of him in the abyss of despair.
– Fuck, this is terrible..
Drooling like an exhausted dog, Tiziano hisses, meeting what seemed to be an insignificant, light, sinuous movement, only confirming the force with which he was stretched around two thick cocks, so perfectly fitting in the warm insides.
– Yes, like that…
Not believing his own words, he whispers and immediately accepts the rough, tight thrust, which is followed by a series of subsequent ones without a break, ramming him again and again with both organs, crowding each other.
So deeply did Clash plunge into this narrow tunnel that he could feel how sweetly his length rested, sensitive, against the fragile, aching walls.
And this was the lesser of two evils.
Arching his back, Tiziano himself felt how both cocks pressed against him with each thrust so tightly that his own cock rested against the hefty mound protruding on his stomach.
– Clash... hug me..
He howls, not caring about anything and without a second thought, allowing Clash to wrap his sharp metal fins around him again, which resembled real, thick, dense blades, capable of cutting limbs and piercing skulls.
There were already thin bleeding wounds on his sides, left on the thin skin and T-shirt during Clash's clumsy attempts to maintain balance.
But now he concentrated, as much as it was possible, speaking about Squalo, crashed and grabbed the neat but strong waist with his fins, leaving new, fresh small, but deep wounds from around the corner with ragged, jerky thrusts.
Tiziano didn't care.
He whined pitifully, completely limp under the stand and of his own free will, purposefully concentrating on the sensations of the thicknesses greedily moving inside him, so painfully stretching his exhausted insides to the limit, as much as Tiziano didn't suspect that it was possible.
But how juicy they filled him to the very edges…
– I'm gonna cum...
Clash takes these words with all his love and awareness, with the last few jerks crashing into the already numb ass and pressing all the way in, plunging both cocks to the very base, even trying to push them deeper than possible, with the last inches making Tiziano howl and give in to blissful convulsions.
Breathing loudly, or rather trying to breathe, he jerks uncontrollably in physical hysteria, hitting his hips now on the floor, now towards Clash's tail, sweetly, so sweetly crashing those cocks inside tighter, now into one stretched-tight wall, now into another.
With every slightest push he shoots out a new, thick portion of hot semen, staining and smearing it on the floor, his own stomach, mixing with the dripping blood.
His eyes fail, as if his vision was turned off by a switch, seeing nothing in front of him except a blurry picture, shrouded in white haze.
He doesn't even immediately realize the sharp emptiness inside.
– I don't feel well…
With his last strength, Tiziano quietly sobs as all that weight of his body suddenly disappears.
Barely lifting his head off the floor, through his matted, wet and bloody hair, he looks, at least trying, at tiny Clash, who has looked out with his sweet eyes from a small puddle opposite, which remained after his earlier splashes, as if he hadn't just cruelly tormented the unfortunate human body from the outside and inside.
Exhaling heavily with pain in his chest, his empty head powerlessly crashes its forehead back into the floor, limp from loss of strength.
– Sexual behavior? Insane.
A weak but rather cheerful voice comes from a throat torned by ragged screams, to which Squalo only nods awkwardly, lacking the strength and too consumed by the feeling of shame from what happened.
All he could do was clarify the situation and explain, but certainly not justify, Clash's behavior, knowing full well that it might sound like nonsense, while continuing and finishing treating the most terrible wounds, bandaging the wounded palms of the exhausted Tiziano lying on the bed.
But, in the end, a stand is a reflection of the owner, right?
They really couldn't spare even a little time and energy to spend time alone.
– Often, female sharks can be distinguished by their bitten backs. Or eh.. dead.
Squalo gently places Tiziano's hand on the bed, putting the bandage away in a small first aid kit and handing him a glass of water.
After what Clash had put him through, he was definitely at risk of getting sapped.
– He didn't do it because he hated you. He was courting you.
Tiziano, however, only chuckles softly. Understandably so, he was clearly angry.
However, the gentle movement with which he intertwined their fingers made Squalo feel even worse.
– ...And the fact that you accepted his gift was probably the starting point.
Despite his desperate attempts at pathetic explanations, Tiziano seemed to barely listen to what was being said to him.
Not because he didn't want to listen to Squalo, quite the contrary, he was always interested in hearing new amazing facts about the sea world, it was one of the endearing features of such a rude-looking man.
Rather, he simply did not have the strength to do so.
But one question, perhaps, still worried him more than anything else.
– Squalo. Did you cum?
He instantly caught the nervous look with which Squalo tactfully and persistently remained silent.
In the blue eyes, one could clearly see how the black pupils narrowed, trembling.
However, as expected, instead of answering, Squalo leans down carefully and kisses the frowning Tiziano on the forehead.
– Rest. I'll make you something to eat.
– Make.
Squalo greets Tiziano's words with a soft smile and a lazy smile in response.
He kisses his knuckles one last time and slowly gets up, heading for the door.
– While you can.