Dark Soul Vol. 4 Read Online Free PDF Page A

He’d never get enough of that, feeling Silvio yield and open for him, the invitation as blatantly sexual as if he’d begged him to fuck him.
    Stefano pulled away, then lowered his hands to Silvio’s hips.
    Angular, bones and structures very different from a woman. Of course, now that he was here, the cock really took center stage, fascinating him like it had when Silvio had grown hard from what he’d claimed was torture. Stefano closed his hand around the length, felt Silvio inhale and his abs tighten.
    “You can slap me there if you want. There’s . . . a lot of possibilities.
    Cock and ball torture. CBT for short.” Silvio pushed forward, experimentally, as if to see how Stefano would respond, and Stefano stroked him, really to get his head around touching another man like that. He reached down and rolled and squeezed Silvio’s balls to feel them move, their weight, their shape. To get used to the possibility, the idea that he could have a male body like this, too. A male lover.
    “What’s your favorite? Of all things?”
    Silvio didn’t answer immediately. Was that because he couldn’t decide, or because he didn’t trust enough to admit to something that might be too much, too hard, way too bizarre?
    “I like being controlled. Getting off is my favorite. Right now . . .
    I want you to turn me around and fuck me against the tiles.”
    Stefano inhaled. He wanted the same thing, but control was important. First he wanted to explore that body at his leisure. He released Silvio’s dick and touched the round scar from Diego Carbone, so unmistakably from a bullet he couldn’t imagine Silvio’s various lovers not asking the question.
    What did he tell them? He didn’t look like a veteran, or a cop, or anybody else who could catch a bullet in the service of some greater, noble good. “One day I want to know what happened with Carbone.”
    Silvio swallowed and closed his eyes. “Should I turn around now?”
    Evading the question. Stefano tapped his hips to make him turn.
    “Hands on the tiles.”
    Silvio uncrossed his wrists and placed his hands on the condensation-wet tiles, fingers splayed and under tension, as if he expected to have to claw at the wall soon. Stefano nudged his legs apart, then ran his hands down Silvio’s strong, lean back and to his ass and the pucker between his cheeks. Seeing that scar there was more of a shock now. He’d almost forgotten it, but while it had seemed mostly odd and even bizarre when he’d seen it the first time, now it was a lot more personal.
    He touched the muscle there, circled the opening, and Silvio bent over more. It would be so easy to work his cock into Silvio’s ass and fuck him. He even had bath oil close.
    He reached for the bottle sitting on the edge of the tub, wrestled the small cap off and poured some of it into his hand. He coated his fingers well before he returned to teasing the pucker, oiling the skin there, and then gently pushed a finger into Silvio’s body, feeling him push back, asking for more. Stefano withdrew only enough to add a second finger, then thrust back in, and curled them both until he found the spot.
    Silvio moaned, his hands closing to fists, and he thrust against Stefano. Stefano wanted nothing more than to pull out and thrust his cock into that tight, slick heat, but this wasn’t about that. He needed to understand how it worked, what it did to Silvio, how he could make up for the fact that he had no fucking clue what he was doing.
    “Anything I’m doing wrong?”
    “No,” Silvio gasped. “Don’t . . . expect me to . . .”
    Well, that was working at least. Stefano kept up what he was doing, wished he had something larger than his fingers that would allow him to learn how to do it right—like that really impressive glass dildo Silvio owned—but he’d refine the details later.
    Right now, feeling Silvio so aroused and needy made his head spin with the power of it, and he reached between Silvio’s legs and squeezed and