Page 8 of Shot For Mercy

“My turn.” He grins, coating his cock with lube, and pressing it to my entrance. “Fuck, Cole.” Matteo grits his teeth as he sinks into me slowly. “Your ass is choking me. You’re going to kill me.”

I smirk. “It’ll be a good death.”

“The best,” he agrees, then slams the rest of the way in.

My back arches off the bed as he steals the breath from me, and he shoves my legs toward my chest. Matteo pulls back slowly, then snaps his hips forward roughly, passing over my prostate with every single thrust. It lights me up from the inside out, and suddenly my cock is hard all over again.

“Look at you,” he whispers. “Hard for me again. Do you like my cock in your tight ass, Cole? Do you like when your best friend fucks you?”

“Y-yes,” I whisper back. “Fuck me harder.”

Matteo spreads my legs, and I wrap them around his waist. He leans down until his torso is pressed against my cock, and with every thrust, it feels like I’m in heaven. I grab the back of his neck and pull him toward me for a kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth until he sucks on it. It’s like he has a direct line to my cock, and when he slips his hand between our bodies and begins to jerk me off, I moan loudly.

“That’s it, Cole,” he groans. “Come for me. Come again.”

I come with a shout, spurting rope after rope of cum all over myself and him. A moment later, I feel his cock twitch in my ass, and I clench around him. He hisses and moans, then I feel his cum filling me to bursting. I feel it seeping out of my ass, and I grin.

“Fucking hell, Matty.” I smirk, slightly out of breath. “You still got it.”

“I know, baby.” He smirks right back, then pulls out of me slowly. I whimper.

Thankfully, there’s a bathroom in his room, and he goes and gets a wet rag to clean me up with. I’m thankful he always takes care of me, but the gesture is way too fucking intimate. I can’t think about it too much though and as he gets back in bed next to me, I close my eyes.

Then the world goes black.

Islam the pots and the pans loudly on purpose before selecting the one I need. Maybe if I make a lot of noise, the boys will wake up. I doubt it though. If the missing bottle of whiskey from the top cabinet is any indication, they got fucked up last night. Not that I blame them. Cole spent a little over three years in prison, the least I can do is turn a blind eye to it.

The bacon, eggs, and pancake mix sit on the kitchen counter, waiting for me to cook them. But I don’t really know if I should get started. Matteo’s room is right next to the kitchen, so he’s probably bound to wake up soon, but part of me wants to wait until they’re both awake so we can all enjoy the meal. Maybe I can just wake them up when the food is done.

I should technically be in the office right now, selling more homes, but I wanted to be here for them today since it’s the first time I’ll see Cole since he got released. I didn’t want to intrude on my son’s moment with him, which is why I didn’t tag along. I’ve known Matteo has been in love with Cole since the moment his brown eyes lit up all those years ago when I first brought Cole home. It was all solidified when he got shot by the Sokolov kid and had a mental breakdown when he knew Cole was locked up. He went batshit crazy, so much so that he almost went behind my back to kill Andrey. The only reason he didn’t do it is because I told him he couldn’t be here for his best friend if he was dead. His need for Cole won out.

Matteo also went to visit Cole weekly, about three hours away for the past three years. They called each other and wrote fucking letters. If that’s not love then I don’t know what is. They’re probably in a relationship I don’t even know about.

The sound of a door opening draws my attention to the hallway. I go to the edge of the kitchen just to see Cole slipping out of Matteo’s room—completely naked. My entire body warms at the sight of his tight ass, and I frown. What the fuck?

I clear my throat.

“What are you doing?” I ask slowly, softly.

Cole startles, jumping and turning toward me. I keep my eyes trained on his face. His cheeks turn red, his crystalline blue eyes looking clear as ever, yet wide as saucers.

“Going to my room,” he replies, taking a tentative step toward me. I know he’s doing it so Matteo doesn’t wake up, but I take a step back all the same. His eyes roam my body, focusing on my crotch. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

I rear back. “Go get dressed.”

“No.”

“No?” I growl. “No one tells me no, Cole.”

“Well, I am,” he snaps. “You didn’t visit me for years, and now you want to tell me what to do? This isn’t work related. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

There’s anger in his voice—but I can tell he’s also hurt, even if he’s trying not to show it. I breathe in deeply as I try to keep my composure, but it’s fleeting. “You will go to your room and put some fucking clothes on.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll make you,” I growl.

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