DARK DESIRES OF US (TWISTED OBSESSION)

“Oh Fuck!” Dominic’s lips gasped for breath, his voice low, rough, aching, his breath racing. His dark eyes always showed the kind of devotion Matteo never saw in any other person—not even in his family, not in his father’s calculating looks, not even in himself. Only here, only in Dominic’s arms, that Matteo could feel like someone really loves him.

Their damp bodies clung to the bed sheet, the heat of the moment doing nothing to cool the fire burning between them. Matteo Romano’s body pinned on top of Dominic Cortez’s body, their lips licking each other in a deep kiss as if they were about to devour themselves. Dominic’s hands held on the hard ridges of Matteo’s back tightly, dragging his nails  down his broad shoulders before gripping his hips and pulling him deep inside him.

Matteo fucked him harder, constantly grinding his waist down against his hole, every movement deliberate, unrelenting. Their breaths became faster than the previous ones, their voice sounded in the room like a rhythm of lust and desire. Dominic kept moaning beneath him, his muscles rising with a sign of wanting more, every curve and line of his body corresponding perfectly to Matteo’s as if they had been carved from each other.

Dominic’s lips found his neck, his tongue rolling down his throat, teeth scraping with possession. Matteo vibrated at the bite, the sting a reminder that this—this passion—was dangerous. If the Don ever finds out about them, Dominic wouldn’t just lose his job. He would lose his life.

But right now, the risk is only strengthening their desire for each other.

Matteo grabbed Dominic’s face, forcing his eyes on him. “You’re mine,” he whispered fiercely, voice breaking with need.

“Yes, I’m all yours My Love,” Dominic replied, pulling him down into another deep kiss, tongues twisting, devouring, desperate to claim and be claimed.

Their bodies moved together in an erotic rhythm, they gripped each other, their moan becoming deeper every minute. They didn’t care whether the world outside did exist—all they cared about was heat of skin against skin, their  muscles trembled as they gave themselves over to forbidden love again and again until they became exhausted with the pleasure.

For hours they rolled on the bed and on each other’s body, till the sunlight dimmed into the glow of evening. Still, Matteo never wanted to let Dominic go, unwilling to leave the only place he felt seen.

When Matteo’s phone buzzed violently on the table, the sound sliced through the whole room. He froze, chest racing, sweat dripping down his chest. Dominic reached for him, keeping him close, unwilling to let reality distract them.

“Don’t,” Dominic murmured, lips brushing his ear. “Stay with me. Just a little longer.”

Matteo’s jaw clenched. He looked at his phone’s screen: Papa. His father never called unless it was urgent—or unless he was furious. Both meant danger.

“I have to go babe,” Matteo whispered.

Dominic tightened his grip, looking at him eyeball to eyeball. “No. Not yet. You always run to him. What about me, Matteo? What about us?” His voice cracked, raw and desperate in a way Dominic barely allowed himself to be.

Matteo changed his mind. He brushed Dominic’s cheek, thumb brushing across his jaw. “You know how much I love you.”

“Then prove it,” Dominic leaned back. “Please stay. Just for tonight. Let him wait. He can have your name, your blood, your obedience. But I want your body on my bed. And you know it belongs to me.”

Matteo hesitated, confused on which decision to take—the weight of his father’s empire against the pull of Dominic’s love. And this time, love won.

He silenced the call, tossed the phone aside, and kissed Dominic with all the strength in him as if he knew tomorrow might never come. They lost themselves in their arms again, over and over, until it was nightfall. When it was almost midnight, Matteo finally rose, his body aching, lips dry, heart still beating for the man watching him from the bed with eyes that screamed lust and love. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Matteo promised, putting on his shirt.

Dominic didn’t answer. He just stared, the weight of unspoken fear in his silence.

By the time Matteo slipped back into the Romano estate, it was almost 12am. The atmosphere inside was more quiet than the Sicilian night, sharp with tension and the faint smell of cigars. His father was still awake.

Dante Romano sat in his leather chair like a king on a throne, shadows all over the hard lines of his face. His tailored suit was divine, his silver hair combed with precision, but his eyes—almost like Matteo’s own—were filled with ice.

“Where have you been?” Dante’s voice sliced the air like a blade, low and dangerous.

Matteo stood tall, forcing his body not to flinch. “Out.”

“Out?” Dante’s lip curled. “Since morning? You walk into my house almost at midnight like some spoiled brat, and you think ‘out’ is an answer?” He rose, standing right in front of his son. The air shifted, heavy with the dominance of a man used to obedience.

“I don’t need to answer you every hour,” Matteo stepped back, though his pulse quickened.

Dante’s hand slammed against the armrest, his deep voice echoing through the room. “You are my son. My blood. And yet you are useless.” His voice rose, venomous. “My men—my soldiers—they bleed for me, kill for me, serve me without questions. They are more useful to me than you will ever be.”

The words cut deeper than any blade. Matteo clenched his fists, anger and shame stirring up in his chest. He had faced guns, knives, threats—but nothing wounded him like his father’s words.

Dante stepped closer to his face, his presence suffocating. He leaned in, his voice a whisper laced with cruelty. “You think you can waste your days enjoying pleasure while I build an empire with blood? No more. It’s time I make you useful to me.”

Matteo’s stomach twisted, but he kept his face hard. “What do you mean?”

Dante’s smirk was cold, merciless. “Get ready. I’ve arranged for a girl, I want you to marry.”

The words hit like a gunshot. Matteo froze, his blood running cold. His throat seized, mind racing, chest heaving with panic. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.

A girl. Marriage. The very chains he feared most.

Dante’s eyes narrowed, staring at his son’s shock. “Yes, Matteo. You’ll finally prove you are my heir.”

Matteo’s heart slammed against his ribs, the image of Dominic flashing before his eyes—his touch, the love, every promise. And now, it all threatened to be taken away.

He swallowed hard, but his voice came out barely a whisper. “Father… I—”

“Silence,” Dante barked, his command final. “This is not a choice. It is your duty. You and I know my decision is final here, right boys?”

“Yes boss”. His men echoed in a uniform voice

Matteo stood frozen, the weight of his father’s words bruising him, the walls of the estate closing in like a prison. Inside, he felt—fear, anger, hate, despair. And beneath it all, a single, desperate question:

What would happen when Dominic found out?