-Continued-
He moved off Leo, shifting in the cramped car. "Turn over."
The command was blunt, devoid of any softness, and it sent a fresh wave of heat straight to Leo's groin. He obeyed without question, his body moving on pure instinct. He awkwardly maneuvered himself onto his stomach, his chest pressed against the passenger seat, his head turned to the side. And his ass, the source of all his torment and all his secret pleasure, was angled up toward Marco.
He heard the sound of Marco unzipping his own jeans, the rustle of clothing. Then he felt the heat of Marco's body pressing against his back. Marco's hands landed on his hips, gripping him tightly, holding him in place. It was the same grip from the court, but now there was no pretense, no audience. Only the two of them and the vast, silent darkness.
"Been wanting to do this for so long," Marco whispered, his voice hoarse against Leo’s ear. He used one hand to pull down Leo's jeans and boxers, exposing him completely to the cool night air. Goosebumps erupted over Leo's skin.
He felt Marco's thick, hot cock press against the cleft of his ass. It was a blunt, insistent pressure, a promise of what was to come.
"Relax for me, Leo," Marco murmured, and then Leo felt something wet and hot. Marco was spitting on his fingers, then reaching down, his slicked fingers probing at his entrance.
Leo flinched, his body tensing instinctively. The touch was shockingly intimate.
"Shhh," Marco soothed, his voice a low vibration against Leo's back. "Just breathe. I got you."
He was slow, surprisingly patient. His fingers worked him open, stretching him, preparing him with a care that belied the roughness of his hands. Leo forced himself to relax, to give in to the strange, invasive pleasure of it. Each movement sent ripples of sensation through him, a mixture of pain and a deep, aching need.
Finally, Marco withdrew his fingers. He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock pressing insistently at Leo’s now-slick entrance. "Ready?" he rasped.
Leo could only manage a choked nod.
Marco pushed forward, slowly, deliberately. The feeling was immense, a stretching, burning fullness that threatened to tear him apart. Leo cried out, his hands gripping the upholstery of the seat, his knuckles white. It was intense, borderline painful, but under the pain was a current of the most profound pleasure he had ever known.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Marco groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He pushed deeper, inch by painful, blissful inch, until he was buried completely inside him. He stilled, letting Leo's body adjust to the incredible feeling of being filled so completely.
"Look at you," Marco panted, his hand coming down to grip one cheek of Leo's ass, squeezing hard. "Took all of me."
Then, he began to move.
It wasn't the violent, pounding rhythm Leo might have expected. It was a slow, deep, almost languid rhythm, each thrust deliberate and consuming. Marco was drawing it out, savoring it. He was exploring every inch of him, claiming him in the most primal way possible. With every push, Leo felt the tension inside him build, the pleasure becoming so intense it was almost unbearable. He could feel the slap of their bodies, a wet, percussive sound in the confines of the car. He could smell the scent of their sex, musky and raw.
He turned his head, looking back at Marco. In the dim light, he could see the strain on his face, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. This was the real Marco. Not the court jester, the king of the taunts. This was a man undone by his own desire.
The sight of it, the raw vulnerability, pushed Leo over the edge. His own climax came upon him in a tidal wave, a violent, shuddering release that ripped a raw scream from his throat. His body convulsed around Marco, milking him, pulling him deeper.
Feeling Leo's release, Marco lost his own control. With a final, desperate roar, he drove into him one last time, his own release flooding Leo's insides with a searing heat. His body went rigid, shuddering violently before collapsing against Leo's back, his full weight a heavy, comforting blanket.
They stayed like that for a long time, their bodies slick with sweat, their ragged breaths slowly evening out in the silent car. The only sound was the distant hum of the city below and the frantic, joyful beating of their own hearts. The tension was gone, shattered into a million glittering pieces, replaced by a profound, exhausted peace.
Marco finally stirred, pulling out of him slowly. He shifted his weight, moving back to his own seat. He didn't speak, just reached over and gently pulled Leo's jeans back up. The gesture was tender, almost reverent.
Leo turned over, his body feeling boneless and blissfully sore. He looked at Marco, who was watching him with an expression he had never seen before—open, vulnerable, and a little scared. The mockery was gone. The cruelty was gone. All that was left was the truth.
"So," Marco said, his voice raspy. "I guess it was ripe after all."
A genuine, unforced laugh escaped Leo's lips. It was a sound of pure relief. "Yeah," he said, reaching out to place his hand on Marco's. "I guess it was."
