Free Dark Soul Vol. 3 by Aleksandr Voinov Page B

him. The ful -body touch very nearly blew his mind—all that skin, all that contact, the sheer, impossible intimacy of being naked with somebody else.
    Silvio kissed his lips, his face, his throat, and Franco found himself relaxing into it, stroking Silvio’s back and shifting his legs just so Silvio could be comfortable and close. Silvio rubbed against him, thrusting not-so-subtly against his belly, brushing his cock every now and then, and Franco dug his fingers into Silvio’s shoulders and thrust back, but it only made him hungrier, needier, the friction more painful than good. Too much dry skin, too much strength and not nearly enough coordination.
    “Want me inside?”
    No. Fuck no. Franco shook his head but arched when Silvio bit his throat, the tingle racing through his body, making him breathless.
    “Then what do you do with the others?” Silvio teased him.
    “What . . . others?”
    “The guys you’re having sex with.”
    Franco grimaced, didn’t want to think about it. Remember. Sex was always a battle between loathing himself and loathing the other man. “I don’t . . . often.”
    “But when you do. What do you like?”
    Leaving afterward is the best part.
    “You got the wrong idea,” Franco managed.
    “Like? That sex’s fun?”
    Gotcha. Franco couldn’t help but laugh and pulled Silvio closer by the neck to kiss him again, and gasped when Silvio thrust against him. “What . . . about you?”
    “I prefer getting fucked,” Silvio said close to his lips. “But I fuck men I don’t know.”
    “Why?”
    Silvio gave him an ironic grin. “I’m a killer.”
    Being in control. Unable to give up control. Fighting tooth and nail to stay in control. Yes, they were messed up in the exact same way.
    “That works for me,” Franco whispered. “It’s safe, too.”
    “You fuck your strangers, too?”
    Franco pressed his lips together, then nodded, remembering the officer’s words.
    Oh, you’re such a top, aren’t you?
    Silvio shifted his weight a little, then pushed off, just enough to look for something to the side of the couch, stretching so far above Franco’s head that his dick very nearly touched Franco’s col arbone.
    Franco slid deeper and captured it with his lips, drawing a shocked, sensuous gasp from Silvio and an involuntary jerk from his hips that drove his cock deeper into Franco’s mouth.
    Franco placed a flat hand against Silvio’s belly, but slung his other arm around Silvio’s hips, then kissed and licked the exposed tip, tasting pre-cum and salt, male and familiar, and he didn’t really care about anything else. He wasn’t particularly good at this—he’d rarely tried, and never managed to get another man off like this. Eventually, he grew bored or started to have second thoughts, but with Silvio, that was less of an issue.
    “That’s good,” Silvio groaned.
    Franco took Silvio’s balls in his hand, noticed they were shaved, and smiled, squeezing them lightly. Then less lightly, when Silvio gave another one of those gasps that seemed to be begging for more.
    Silvio jerked again, then laughed. “Shit. I’m going to lose my balance if you keep that . . . up!” Franco let him slip from his mouth and watched, amused, how Silvio tried to move back down to him.
    “Thanks,” Silvio said and grinned at him, showing every one of his white teeth. “Got the lube. Turn around.”
    “What? Have I become a stranger?” Franco asked but rolled over onto his belly. Immediately, his hackles rose, a response that had nothing to do with Silvio and everything with that position. Unable to fight. Yet, prone was also focused and ready to kill. His fingers itched for his rifle.
    “Bullshit,” Silvio whispered. “But it’s easier for me to find a guy I can trust.”
    “I guess.” Franco opened his legs when Silvio’s fingers slid into his crack, but craned his neck to watch Silvio’s face. It would have been easy to close his eyes and let it happen, pretend whatever, but that