Chapter 46: Heated

Marco swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. He desperately tried to maintain his outward composure, picking up his spoon with a slightly trembling hand to resume eating. He inwardly prayed Fabio was just teasing him, just trying to prove a point.

But Fabio kept going. The hand slid higher, past the safe territory of Marco’s thigh, until it settled fully and over Marco’s crotch, clutching his growing hardness right through the thick fabric of his trousers.

Marco’s breath hitched. His lips pressed together. Moving quickly but carefully to ensure he was not noticed by the other oblivious men at the table, Marco dropped his free hand beneath the wooden surface. He found Fabio’s wrist and gripped it hard, trying to hold the man’s hand still.

Marco shot a frantic, warning glare toward the man sitting next to him. But Fabio was a master actor; he acted completely nonchalant, casually reaching for his glass of water with his other hand and taking a relaxed sip.

Marco was still clutching Fabio’s wrist, applying as much pressure as he could without drawing attention, but that did not stop Fabio in the slightest. The man simply flexed his fingers, tightening his hold on Marco’s cock, giving it a firm, agonizingly slow squeeze.

Marco bit his lower lip entirely unintentionally, his brows knitting together in a tight frown as a spike of electricity shot up his spine. He sat upright almost as if this would stop all this, but it obviously did not. Then, he leaned over, closing the distance between their chairs, and hissed under his breath, "Really? Is this your incredibly mature way of getting back at me?"

Fabio remained absolutely quiet. He did not even blink. He simply continued to chew his food, acting as if giving a handjob to his bed partner in the middle of dinner, surrounded by three oblivious men, was a perfectly normal Wednesday evening activity.

It was absolutely not normal. It was definitely classified in the highest tier of nutcase behavior.

But Fabio still continued. The audacity of the act made Marco realize that fighting a silent war under the table was a losing battle. He actually released Fabio’s hand, giving up the physical restraint, foolishly hoping that if he stopped fighting, Fabio would get bored and stop.

But Fabio was a notoriously stubborn and fiercely competitive man. Marco knew this ever since their first encounter.

The moment Marco surrendered, Fabio took it not as a truce, but as a victory. As if he had just been handed the final key to hell, his actions grew significantly bolder.

Fabio slowly began stroking Marco’s now entirely hard dick through the fabric of his trousers. The friction was maddening. It took absolutely all of Marco’s preserved self-control not to make a sudden, compromising sound. He gripped the edge of his wooden chair until his knuckles turned completely white, still foolishly hoping Fabio would have mercy and stop.

The man, however, did not. He instead began stroking a little faster- not too fast to violently shake the table or alert the others, but with a rhythmic, devastating pressure that was designed to completely unravel Marco’s sanity. Fabio knew Marco’s breaking points, he had watched, observed and now, he was taking advantage.

Marco could feel his vision blurring at the edges. He was already standing on a dangerous precipice, about to completely lose himself in the sudden, overwhelming wave of pleasure. He tried signaling Fabio to stop, glaring daggers into the side of the man’s head, but Fabio obviously did not care.

Marco once again bit his lip, significantly harder this time, tasting a faint hint of copper. He knew his own body too well. It would not be long before he reached the point of no return. If he came right here, right now, sitting at the dinner table with Tony, James, and Elia just feet away, he knew for an absolute fact that he would not be able to suppress his sounds. And it would be absolutely be over for him. Tony would roast him for life, and Elia- Marco did not want to think about it.

Survival instinct finally kicked in. He abruptly cleared his throat, his voice sounding just a fraction too raspy.

"Excuse me," Marco announced to the table, abruptly wiping his mouth with a serviette. "I think I’m done here."

Without waiting for anyone to say a single word of protest, Marco violently pushed his chair back. The wooden legs screeched against the floorboards as he stood up and hastily retreated down the hallway, walking a little stiffer than usual.

Tony paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, looking at Marco’s nearly full plate with genuine confusion. "He barely ate anything," Tony observed, genuinely perplexed by the sudden exit.

Fabio slowly lowered his gaze to the abandoned plate. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to forcefully suppress the triumphant smirk that threatened to split his face. In the end, he couldn’t completely hide it; the corner of his lips rose in a dark, incredibly satisfied smile. He waited exactly one minute before excusing himself from the table as well.

Fabio walked down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the runner rug. He was heading straight for the bedroom where he was absolutely certain Marco was hiding. His dark eyes were glinting with clear, predatory satisfaction. He had won the battle of wills, and now he was going to collect his prize.

Just as he reached the bedroom door, raising his hand and ready to push it open, the handle clicked.

The door violently yanked open from the inside. Before Fabio could even register what was happening, a hand clamped down hard on the side of his neck. He was violently pulled into the room.

The instant he crossed the threshold, the door was slammed shut behind him. Fabio was shoved and pinned hard against the solid wood of the door. The rough impact caused a sharp spike of pain to flare up in his injured shoulder, but he didn’t even have time to wince, because Marco was entirely relentless.

Acting like an absolute madman, Marco crushed his lips over Fabio’s mouth with a desperate intensity. He parted Fabio’s lips forcefully, twirling his tongue inside his mouth with a dominant, bruising heat that instantly set Fabio’s blood on fire.

But Marco did not stop there. He broke the kiss only to grasp a fistful of Fabio’s hair, pulling the man’s head back to expose his throat. Marco leaned in and took a deliberate bite right on the sensitive skin of Fabio’s neck. It was not gentle in the slightest- it was hard enough to definitely leave a dark, visible mark by morning.

Fabio let out a low, rough groan of pleasure, a wicked smile spreading across his face. When Marco finally stopped biting and pulled back slightly to look up at him, Fabio’s eyes were falling shut, heavy with lust and victory. Their faces were mere inches apart, both of them breathing heavily, sharing the same heated air.

Feeling that he had finally broken through Marco’s defenses, Fabio leaned down, chasing Marco’s lips, ready to initiate a kiss of his own.

But Marco moved. He pulled away entirely, stepping out of Fabio’s personal space. His face was completely blank. There was no smirk, no heated gaze, just a calm, entirely indifferent expression.

Fabio froze, looking at him with deep, visible confusion.

Marco calmly reached down and grabbed the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. He walked casually over to the closet, pulled out a towel, and draped it over his shoulder before heading back toward the door where Fabio was still leaning, dumbfounded.

Marco stopped right in front of him, gesturing casually for Fabio to step aside.

"Excuse me," Marco said, his voice light and entirely devoid of the feral passion from just ten seconds ago. "I wanna go take a shower."

Fabio’s smug, triumphant expression completely shattered, falling off his face in an instant.

In that brief window of absolute, mind-numbing confusion, Marco reached around Fabio, pulled open the bedroom door, and dashed out into the hallway, leaving Fabio standing entirely alone in the bedroom.

It was only after a long, silent minute that Fabio finally snapped back into reality. The cold air of the room hit him, and realization finally settled in: His master plan had just spectacularly backfired.

Marco hadn’t been dragging him into the room to finish what they started. Marco had dragged him in there just to get him riled up to the point of no return, only to completely abandon him.

Fabio let out a short, breathy chuckle. It was light at first, completely devoid of any real amusement. Then, the absurdity and the sheer evil of Marco’s revenge caught up to him, and he chuckled harder, shaking his head in defeat.

He slowly looked down at his own completely hard dick, straining uncomfortably against his trousers. He sighed, a long, defeated sound, before he took three heavy steps forward and let himself fall completely flat, face-first, onto the empty bed.