Work Text:
You don’t understand what’s happening.
Formaggio can be rough sometimes. He can be too excited, or a little too blinded by his desires, and that could drive his body a little too eager, a little too rough. It was just his mindless, unreasonable behavior that you have gotten used to.
But this time something is different. There was obviously a reason behind this; something ignited the fire inside him. It’s different from your usual trysts with him where everything means nothing, everything you did was merely for pleasure.
You always tell anyone – even the leader himself – to tell you in advance if they… need something from you. You always feel the need to be prepared; condoms and lubes (if needed), tissues, clean towels, a glass of water – anything, really.
But now, your back was pressed against the wall as Formaggio pressed a bruising kiss on your lips as if he’s trying to leave a mark on you. Formaggio never broke any rules you set, but after today’s dinner, he suddenly dragged you to your room and starting to have you his way without saying any words.
You try hard to assert dominance on him – and while it usually works, it doesn’t this time.
He’s too strong, and the past jokes he used to say to you about your size difference start to make sense.
While your body was smaller than his, Formaggio always let you take control. He always lets you climb on him, straddle him, and have him your way. He never uses too much of this strength handling you, and restrains himself from manhandling you.
But now his hands are grabbing your jaw, keeping your face still while his lips move along yours. You grab onto his shoulders for support as you feel your knees start to wobble a little.
They’re sturdy, they’re strong, you thought. Formaggio was not the tallest, not the strongest, both of you know that. And you both never miss the way Illuso underestimates him, calling him useless, calling him names with a sneer. It’s like bitter poison on his tongue. You know that, but Formaggio always bites back.
But you know behind his snarky remarks he’s still a little insecure, and sometimes he wants to aid the feeling by making up about what he’s insecure about in the bed with you; because he knows, you know, that he is strong, he is not useless.
And then you remember,
It’s Illuso who ignites this fire in him.
*
“I always love it when you’re making dinner.”
“Mmm,” you only hum at the compliment. You felt a pair of arms sneaking around your waist loosely and the feather-light brush of long strands of hair on your shoulder. “I don’t see any difference from the other’s cooking, though.”
“Oh no, no, sweetheart, don’t compare yourself to scumbags like us,” Illuso chuckled lowly. “You’re nothing like us. You’re an angel.”
“You know I assassinate people like the rest of you scumbags, right?” you brought a hand up to stroke on his cheek. “I think we’re all equally scumbags here.”
The taller man laughed, “No, sweetheart. Believe me, we’re not equal, especially to him.”
Your eyebrows perked up; somehow you know who’s it he’s talking about is. So you turn your head around, spotting Formaggio drinking a glass of cold water beside the fridge.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he answered defensively.
“None,” Illuso replied. You couldn’t see his face but you know that a smug smirk is forming on his lips. “I’m just having a moment with my girl.”
Your brows knitted, and you hear Formaggio snort.
“Bullshit.”
Illuso tightens his hold on you. “How’s your shrinkage doing for you?”
The other man doesn’t answer.
“Well, that says something,” he said as he finally gets off of you. You sigh, not wanting a fight to happen anywhere near your delicately prepared food.
“Shut the fuck up,” Formaggio hissed. “I wished you’d use your mouth for something better.”
Illuso laughed and pressed a kiss on your cheek. It was unnecessary, but you knew it was done deliberately to rile him up. He laughed and walked away to where you guess was outside the kitchen. “Suit yourself!”
Formaggio didn’t say a thing. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter, a visible sign of being pissed off.
“Don’t take him seriously,” you say, finishing up on your cooking. “We both know it’s not like that-“
“Sure,” he cuts.
You stayed silent for a moment as you prepare the meal. It’s not very like him to be so easily riled up like this.
“Y- you should shower first, or rest,” you said awkwardly. “You must be tired.”
Formaggio sighed heavily, and he stretched his body up. You expected him to crack a joke or at least laugh, but nothing came out of his mouth other than a short “sure” as he left.
*
You can’t help but wonder what is he thinking about as he maneuvers your body to bed and hovers over you, enveloping your body with his. He panted over you, as he slowly inches your bodies together. He props his elbows beside your head, lowering his face closer to yours. You only stared at him as he did… nothing. He did not kiss you, and his hands weren’t touching you all over. He’s just there, catching his breath above you.
You placed your hands on his cheeks gently and closed your eyes, and before you could open them again, Formaggio pressed another kiss, this time not as rough.
You wanted to ask what’s wrong, you wanted to ask what’s inside his mind, but all of your thoughts were thrown out the window when he starts moving his hands all over your body.
His palms, while it was rough and calloused from all the work he’s done, give you comfort. They’re not much different from the other guys’ hands - they have the same occupation after all – but it felt different, and you never knew why. It gives you a sense of clarity, like you know he will not hurt you, like you know you’re safe with him despite all the things he did to other people.
And despite the rough tugs on your hair, the firm grip on your jaw, the hard flicks and pinches on your hardened nipples, the dull pain of his blunt nails raking through your body, or the rough flicks circling on your clit, you feel safe. You feel comfortable. You feel owned.
*
“You ever fucked someone like that, gattina?”
You flicked the lighter and lit up the cigarette Formaggio held between his lips. “Not quite.”
“Does it mean that I’m special?”
You laughed. He laughed along as he took a drag and turns his head away from you to blow smoke from his mouth.
“I think everyone I slept with is special in their own way,” you say, scooting closer to him. You dragged your hand along his taut abdomen upwards to his muscled pecs, and stopped on his shoulder, “My ex-lovers, and another couple of people…”
“And us?”
You circle your hands around his shoulder, “Mmm…?”
“What about us? How’s your experience in sleeping with the most feared assassins of Italy?” Formaggio took the cigarette away from his mouth and inches his face closer to you, bumping your noses together.
“You’re all wonderful.”
“What about me?”
“You’re wonderful with your own traits,” you said with a giggle, “I like your arms and hands, Maggio. They’re so strong.”
Formaggio puts his cigarette aside to the ashtray on the bedside table and proceeds to flex his arms, “You like these bad boys?”
You smiled and pushed him down, straddling him, and Formaggio could only chuckle, “Whoa, easy there, tiger.”
“Of course I do,” you say before dipping your head down for a kiss.
Especially you.
*
Especially you.
You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt him kissing and sucking onto your neck while two of his fingers are buried inside you, pounding away. You didn’t even realize that your legs are already wrapped loosely around his waist, holding him close to you. Your hands clung onto his back, nails unconsciously digging into his back muscles.
A lot of time your mind went back into that exact moment. Why does that sentence never get to slip from your mouth when it’s hanging on the tip of your tongue? If anything, you could say that it was the post-sex blabber. You could just brush it off as a joke because obviously you never think of him that way. You were no stranger to flirting before, during, and after sex. You and Melone do that all the time, then why can’t you do it with him? Why can’t you let go of what you have in mind? Wasn’t that the purpose of the trysts you have with the men of the assassination team? To let loose and forget about work for a while?
You feel your legs shake, and you pushed him back, making him pull his fingers out. Both of you sat there for a while, panting, before you shakily move forward and pushed him down. You mouth and hands roam around his body, not wanting to forget how he feels beneath you.
There was a sudden rush of possessiveness running through you when you feel him shudder as your mouth went lower. You never missed even the littlest sign of pleasure from your partners, you were always so attentive to what your partners like, and that pumps even more adrenaline in your body. But now, all you feel is the desire to have him.
You want him, you need him. You have to have him.
So you go lower and wrap your lips around him, looking up to him to get a glance of his face twisting as you take him deeper.
*
“Have you ever been in love before?”
“Of course,” you say, leaning to the car door, watching the rain droplets falling outside. You crossed your arms on your chest, trying to warm yourself a little, “Once. Never again.”
Formaggio only nodded as a response. His fingers tapped along the song playing on the radio on the steering wheel, providing them something to fill in the silence.
The mission was finished an hour ago, but none of you wanted to be home just yet. It was raining, giving more reasons to stay out a little longer.
“Have you?”
“Mmm?” he answered. His lips pursed a bit, thinking, “Eh, nah. Never got the chance.”
“Alright.”
“I’d love to, though.”
You huffed, letting out a little cold air from your mouth, “With whom?”
“I’ll let the fates decide.”
The music kept playing, continuing to fill the silence between the two of you. You hum along to the song, and closed your eyes, before finally saying, “Sure.”
You remembered the last part of the lyrics before finally drifting off to sleep –
‘Just a kiss divine,
Just a twist in time,
You could be mine.’
*
Then it hit you.
He was jealous.
Maybe his jealousy drove him into acting like this, maybe he wants you too, maybe he needs you too.
Maybe—
The train of your thoughts stopped as he released spurts of cum into your mouth. It felt warm as it slowly slides down your throat. You took him all as you feel him twitch a little, riding down his orgasm. You pulled him out and licked your lips, and before you could say anything, he slammed his lips to yours, kissing you feverishly. You wrap your arms around him as you let him deepen the kiss, not realizing that your head has finally hit the fluffy pillow once again.
Formaggio pulled back and starts to line his dick up against your entrance, using some of your wetness to lube his dick a little, and as you feel the spongy tip of his dick upon your entrance, you shudder and moaned.
See, while he was not the biggest in this aspect, taking him was always a little chore. It was thick, and it’s able to split you open in ways you cannot describe. There was never a bad moment when you’re with him, and you think that there would ever be.
He kisses along your neck and collarbone as he starts to move, giving you the friction you’ve been so desperate for. His hands gripped tightly on the curve of your hips, and you can’t help but whimper a little at the feeling. Would he leave bruises this time, would there be imprints of his fingers on your hips once you’re done?
But your thoughts were once again thrown out of the window when he starts picking up his pace, fucking you hard ‘till you can feel his hips and thighs flush against yours. It was hard, fast, brutal, and you’re so, so glad he picked this pace. This way, you can feel him fully, you can experience him entirely, and suddenly nothing else matters. No other feeling, no other people, could replace what you’re feeling right now. It felt so right being pinned under him as he pounds into you as if there was no tomorrow.
You let go of your grip from the sheets and lets your shaky hands take his face in your hands and tilted his face up so you can take a good look of him. He looks at you, brows knitted tightly and his lips parted slightly as he lets out little groans and grunts here and there. This view was definitely something, and you wanted it to be burned in your mind, but something that you’re sure you will never forget was his eyes.
His emerald green eyes.
They were the most noticeable parts of him. They were so vibrant and full of life, it perfectly contradicts his line of work yet it perfectly matches him and his personality. There was always a mischievous glint on them, and it only adds charm to those pair of orbs. And sometimes you wonder, does he ever realize how beautiful his eyes are?
You bring his face closer to kiss him on the lips before moving down to his jaws to nip on it, and you moved lower, leaving little hickeys along his neck. You inhale his musk and licks on his neck, trying to get all of your senses to feel him, to taste him, to experience him.
And when he hits the sweet spot inside your walls, you wailed loud, letting the whole house know that you were being brought to your limits.
After a little while, Formaggio starting to lose his rhythm, his hips stuttering, and just as you thought, he released his seed once again inside you.
And along with him, you came.
*
“Hey, what’s this?”
Formaggio lifted his head up from the crook of your neck lazily as he eyed his jacket you’re holding. “Mmm..?”
“It’s a lipstick mark.”
“Bingo,” he replied just as lazy, burying his face in the crook of your neck once again.
“Hey,” you said softly, lifting his head up gently, but there was an obvious slight disappointment in your tone. “When was that from?”
“I had to infiltrate a nightclub for my previous mission,” he said with a smile, “You know how girls are around me.”
You put his jacket back to the floor where he left it and pressed a kiss on his head. “Okay.”
“Gattina,” he called. You always liked his voice post-sex – it’s always lower than usual and there’s a little rasp on his voice as if he was growling low in his throat, “Are you jealous?”
Jealous?
The question caught you a little off guard – jealous? What made you have the right to be jealous when you’re no different from him? You slept with his teammates for crying out loud, but it seems like he never minded. He knew the boundaries you both set for each other: no matter how special the two of you treat each other, feelings shouldn’t be involved. None of you are built for it anyway, and it’s normal for personal desires to be attained from more than one person.
Did you forget that unwritten rule between you two once you know he’s having other trysts with anyone outside the organization? Did you forget that he wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his?
“No,” you replied shortly.
Formaggio trailed kisses up to the back of your ear and licked that sensitive part of your body, making you shiver. “I know you’re lying,” he whispered hoarsely. His hands started to move to cup on your boobs, giving them a light squeeze that made you let out a breathy whimper.
You giggle softly as he moved his head to kiss your cheek, “How’d you know?”
“I know you too well, and I think both of us knew that.”
You only smiled at his answer and lets out another moan in contentment as he lowers his head once again to suck a little bruise on your chest.
“You’re the only one who gets to own me, gattina,” he whispered to the skin of your shoulder as he enters you once again. “We both know that.”
And at that moment, you liked the way your little pet name rolled off his tongue a little more than usual.
*
You were lying on your side trying to catch your breath when the moment you acknowledged you had feelings for him for the first time flashed through your mind.
You should’ve known that everything would go downhill when feelings were involved. Formaggio should’ve known too.
You need to talk to him about this in the morning after the both of you got the sleep you both definitely needed. You have no idea what to talk about, but you have to talk to him.
You pulled the blanket Formaggio laid for the two of you up to your chest to cover yourself a little as you lift your body up, wanting to remind him about the only unwritten rule between you that was never broken: no staying over after sex.
But as you sit up, you felt Formaggio tapped your back. You turned your head over to him, and you see that the fire has died, the angry spark in his eyes had gone, and his touch has once again gone soft on you.
“Hey,” he called your name, “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”
The question was no alien to you, but his next words were the ones that you didn’t expect.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight. It was a spur of moment kind of thing, I was…” he paused. “I think I was jealous-“
“No.”
*
“No, Maggio, I really think you have pretty eyes.”
“Damn, Illuso would be so happy to hear this.”
Both of you laughed at his words, knowing the notorious rivalry between the two.
“I think I’ve gone soft on you, Maggio.”
“I gotta admit that that was some sappy shit,” he replied, “But I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing.”
It was. Both of you knew that, but when you’re pressed so close to each other like this, who would’ve wanted to admit such thing?
“’m sorry for going soft on you, then.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” he chuckled. “I love bein’ doted like this, y’know.”
“I don’t think receiving a compliment equals being doted,” you said, stroking his head gently. “But if you want to put it that way…”
“Remember that I don’t get to receive compliments often, gattina.”
“Ah, of course,” you answered. “Sorry.”
You look into his eyes once again. They were bright green, and you thought that they looked like emeralds.
“No,” he said as he leaned over to kiss you, “You don’t have to.”
*
“No,” you said almost immediately, dropping the blanket that was covering your chest as you climbed on top of him. “You don’t have to.”
You ducked your head to kiss him, even more passionate than before. While your hands are grabbing on the sides of his face, his hands traveled down your body before it rests on your ass, grabbing a handful of them possessively. He kissed you back with new fervor as if he’s afraid to lose you.
Formaggio moaned into your mouth desperately, pulling you closer to him as if it was possible for you both to be even closer. One of his hands moved up to your back and the other grabbed your waist as he sat up, not wanting you to fall back to the bed. He pulled away from the kiss, but he hurriedly latched his lips on your collarbone, sucking purplish marks on it.
“I want you,” he whispered on your skin. His lips moved downwards to your chest as he bites and sucks on one of your boobs before giving the other the same amount of attention. “I want you, goddamnit. I gotta have you.”
You don’t know why but your chest suddenly felt like its tightening. You don’t know whether the reason behind your breathing cut short was because of his words or the way his fingers danced between your folds. The way his rough fingers circling on your clit combined with him sucking on your nipple starting to become a little overwhelming, so you cling tightly onto him, and he moaned once you drag your nails down his muscled back.
“I need you,” he said breathily, “I gotta have you.”
“Take me,” you replied, “Have me, Formaggio. I’m yours.”
And with those two words, Formaggio finally sheathed himself inside you again with a strained moan. You pushed him back gently and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on his lips, before propping your hands on his chest and start riding him.
*
“You know wh- oh- what’s the thing I like the- the most about you?”
“Hmm?” You inched your face closer to him with a smirk while your hand is busy pumping his slick cock, “What it is?”
“I like the fact that you- you treat me so well during sex,” he said, grinning. “It’s as if you know how to turn the proper switches.”
You laughed, both to his slurred words and the way he’s squirming as you turn him putty with your hand.
“What does that supposed to mean, Maggio?”
“It means that you’re the best person I’ve slept together with.”
“I complimented your eyes and you’re implying that I give you the best handjob?” you ask, chuckling, “Very romantic.”
“Oh, gattina,” he moaned, “I’m just saying that I love the way you make me feel.”
*
And you love the way he makes you feel, too.
You love the way he holds you close and the way he pulls you close by the waist in front of the other guys, pretending to be protective of the newest member of the assassination team. You love his words of praise when you have him inside your mouth and the way he jokingly say ‘you’re the best!’ when you do anything in his favor. You love the way his hands sneakily run through your body during post-sex showers and the way he lets you steal one bottle of wine from the stash Prosciutto kept for special occasions when a mission went well.
Even now, you love the way he finished inside you, painting your walls white.
You panted above him as he pulls out of you. You didn’t immediately get off of him, and you really want to blame it on the arms circling around your waist and the hands comfortably rested on the small of your back for that. No words are said between the two of you, and the sound of your heavy breathing is the only thing that filled the silence in your room.
“Cmon, off you go,” he said after a while, “We need to clean up.”
You finally got off of him, and you could only stare at him grabbing a clean towel from your drawer to clean both of your sweat-slick bodies. Formaggio slides inside the blanket once he’s done cleaning, facing you.
“You wanna talk about it?” he asked carefully.
No answers were given by you, and you only stared at his eyes as your hand went up to cup on his face. You traced your fingers across his sharp jawline, then to his cheekbones, before it stopped in front of his full lips. You closed your eyes and sighed, feeling him take your hand on his and placed a gentle kiss on the pads of your fingers.
“Tomorrow,” you finally answered.
And with the last unwritten rule between you was broken, you close your eyes.
*
“You’re free to do anything to me, but I do have a small set of rules.”
“And what would that be?”
“No feelings involved, that’s one,” you say, smiling mischievously as you took Formaggio’s jacket off and throws it mindlessly.
“I see that Prosciutto already brainwashed you, then.”
You laughed. The clashing personalities of the two of them never fail to entertain you.
“And number two… No staying over after sex,” you continued, taking his mesh shirt out the way before tracing your nails down his toned chest.
“But why?” he asked as he unbuttons your shirt, sliding it off your shoulders and throwing it on the floor.
“Because I know that you would be all snuggly and comfy in my bed when I have to wake up early preparing for work,” you answered, smiling. “And you obviously would ask for five more minutes even when you know that Risotto would be disappointed at me.”
Formaggio laughed, knowing exactly that he would definitely do that.
“…but that’s all the rules.”
“That’s all?” he asked as he grabbed a handful of your ass, grinding his clothed dick against you. “That’s as easy as flipping your hand over.”
“So it means that you can do it?”
“Gattina, all your wish is my command.”