BRAWN AND DESIRE 

EMILIO'S POV

Dante's hands were on his cock, stroking him hot, fast, demanding. It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rough either. It was controlled, focused—like Dante knew had the skill.

Emilio arched into it, dragging out gasps he didn't know he could make. 

The cold of the room was forgotten under the heat that surged through his veins. It was really Dante's hands so he thought he trembled not sure he was alive. All he saw was a blur of heaven

"God," Emilio choked out, his hands scrabbling at Dante's shoulders, needing something to hold onto. His pulse pounded, loud in his ears. He couldn't even pretend to be in control anymore.

Emilio couldn't bring himself to glance at Dante's face, his embarrassment holding him back. His eyes remained fixed elsewhere as if avoiding the intensity of Dante's gaze was the only thing he could control at that moment."

He was embarrassed, knowing that Dante could see him in this trembling, vulnerable state—battered, surrendered, and completely exposed.

Dante's hands grew more insistent, and Emilio's cries grew louder. 'Ah...!' Emilio moaned, the sound escaping before he could stop it. Dante quickly reached out, pressing his palm firmly over Emilio's mouth, muffling the sounds so that the men outside wouldn't hear.

Emilio was consumed by Dante's hands stroking and the pleasure clouding his mind. He forgot about the men outside, the world outside that cold underground space.

Dante's hands covered Emilio's mouth, but it couldn't stifle the soft noises slipping past his trembling lips—low, desperate sounds that he couldn't hold back, even as he tried to stay quiet.

"Dante..." Emilio called out his name to warn him of his release but the sound was muffled against the hand covering his mouth.

His discharge came in full force, he arched his waist up and emptied his load in Dante's hand. 

" I'm sorry," He said immediately his breath coming in ragged gasps. He didn't mean to empty his sticky mess on Dante's palm. It just came like a wave.

 "It's okay," Dante murmured, his voice low and steady. 

Dante stood up, walked deeper into the room, and came back with a handful of tissues. His hands were already clean when he handed them to Emilio, who took them without a word.

He wiped his tip cock and pulled up his trousers. From where he was lying, he sat up 

Then Dante sat on the cold floor, his long legs stretched out, back slightly curved. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it with a soft flick of the lighter, and took a slow drag.

That image—Dante on the floor, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling in the dim light—seared itself into Emilio's mind. Something about it was unexpectedly intimate. Craved.

Emilio glanced at him but couldn't hold his gaze for long. Shame, heat, and something else churned in his chest. He looked away.

There was silence for a while, thick and stretching between them like smoke.

Then Emilio spoke, voice low. "I didn't mean to do that... again."

Dante exhaled slowly, his tone unreadable. "But you did."

Blood rushed to Emilio's face, shame burning beneath his skin. "I didn't mean to," he repeated, more defensive this time.

Dante didn't look at him. "Are you into men?"

Emilio's heart jumped painfully in his chest like it wanted out. "I... I don't know," he muttered. "Maybe a few."

Dante flicked ash onto the ground, his eyes narrowed, but not unkind. He didn't speak right away, just took another drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing briefly in the dim light.

After a moment, he held the cigarette out toward Emilio, offering it wordlessly.

Emilio hesitated, his eyes flashing from the cigarette to Dante's face. He shook his head slightly, refusing with a quiet nod.

Dante gave a small, almost indifferent shrug, taking another drag from the cigarette himself.

"How many of them?" Dante asked again, his tone steady, yet curious.

Emilio snapped, "It's none of your business."

The words came out sharper than he intended. In truth, he hadn't been with many. He was picky, never settling for just anyone. But Dante piqued his interest.

"So you do that to anyone who comes your way?" Dante asked, his voice low, rough around the edges.

"I don't," Emilio snapped, eyes flaring. "Don't make it sound like I'm easy."

Dante tilted his head, cigarette hanging from his lips. "Could've fooled me."

Emilio scoffed but didn't have the energy to argue. The tension between them was too thick, too raw. After a beat, he muttered under his breath, "I wanted to kill you."

"You could've," Dante said, unfazed. "What stopped you?"

"I might still do it. Later."

Dante didn't laugh. Didn't blink. "Then you better wait until Romano's handled. Because he's not done with either of us."

"I don't need your war," Emilio said stiffly.

"No, but you have one." Dante flicked ash onto the floor, his eyes dark. "He tried to kill you, Emilio. Same as me."

Silence stretched. Emilio's jaw tensed. He hated how true it sounded. Romano had tried to get rid of him. That ambush wasn't meant for Dante alone. Maybe aligning with his enemy was the only way to survive.

"How would that even work?" he asked quietly.

"It starts with peace," Dante said, without missing a beat. "Between our men."

He leaned back, exhaling smoke as he reached out and rested a hand on Emilio's shoulder. The contact was casual, but Emilio felt it like a spark.

"And you," Dante added, "need to work on your fighting skills."

Emilio shoved his hand off, scoffing. "Why would I need that? I have men for that. I don't fight like a dog in a cage."

"You might have to fight," Dante said flatly. "And when that moment comes, your name won't save you."

Emilio rolled his eyes. "You offering to be my teacher now?"

Dante stood, brushing ash off his jeans. "Come to my ring in the evenings. I'll be there. I'll help you out."

"I don't need your help," Emilio muttered, but it lacked the usual bite.

Dante smirked, already walking away. "You will."

Emilio stayed still, fists clenched on his knees. He hated the offer. Hated how it made sense. And more than anything, he hated that for the first time... he wasn't sure if he wanted Dante dead or closer.