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Sage had grunted when alessandro complained about feeding blitz the chicken pieces, continue to give the wolf the treats anyway. "Oh please, it's not like he's hopping on the table or taking things that aren't being offered to him," he snorted. He'd be fine. He groaned when alessandro continued to pretty much ignore his teasing, slumping in his chair for a moment, trying to think on how to get him to change his mind. The guy wasn't exactly giving him much to work with. He understood being wary with the whole seizure thing, but the doctor had said he'd likely be fine. He felt fine. Nothing had ever happened this far after one. He huffed out a soft breath then, moving to bring his own bowl to the sink, sliding in next to Alessandro. "Do you ever do that," he sort of grumbled, though there was no real malice in his voice. But if alessandro didn't give him something to work with soon, he might actually go insane. His thoughts wandered back to the night before ....what he'd said about bossing him around. A faint smile appeared on his face, and in a quick motion he ducked under Alessandros arm so he was wedged between him and the counter, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his chest. "Ale, I'm bored," he sort of whined, deciding to use a nickname this time. He peered up at him then, chin still resting light on his chest. "Why can't we have a little fun?" He could tell by the flickers in his gaze he wanted him. He just....had to convince him that he could take him. |
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Alessandro made a quiet sound of resignation as Sage kept feeding Blitz anyway, shooting him a look that was far more fond than stern. “I’m not worried about the table,” he said calmly. “I’m worried about him deciding obeying orders is optional when food is involved.” Blitz, traitor that he was, thumped his tail and accepted another piece without shame. Alessandro turned back to the counter just in time for Sage to slide in beside him. He listened to the grumbled question, eyes flicking down briefly before returning to what he was doing. “Ignore teasing?” he repeated. “No. I’m very aware of it.” Then Sage ducked under his arm. Alessandro froze—not because he didn’t expect it, but because he felt it. The warmth. The weight. The way Sage fit there far too easily, arms around his waist, face pressed to his chest like he belonged. For a heartbeat, Alessandro didn’t move at all. Then his hand came up—not pushing Sage away, but settling at his back, firm and grounding. Protective. His other hand stilled on the counter. “Careful,” he said quietly, voice lower now, deeper, closer. Not a warning. Not a rejection. Something else entirely. His gaze dropped to meet Sage’s when he looked up, and there it was—that flicker Sage had noticed before. Interest, unmistakable, held tightly in check. “I want you,” Alessandro said plainly, because lying would insult them both. His thumb pressed once, subtly, against Sage’s spine. “That’s not the question.” He ground against Sage, "Does that feel like someone who doesn't want you?" he asks. He leaned down just enough that their foreheads nearly touched. “The question is whether I want to risk pushing you when you’re still recovering.” A pause. Deliberate. Charged. Then, softer—almost amused: “And whether you’re bored… or testing me.” His hand didn’t move away. |
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Sage wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen. Part of him was expecting Alessandro to turn away, to finish cleaning the dishes. Keep doing the same old routine day after day. But he didn't. He felt the hand on his back, warm and grounding, and there. He let out a soft breath before he could stop himself, practically melting into the embrace, fingers tightening where they held Alessandros shirt. He peered up at the other man curiously, not entirely sure what he was thinking. Cocked his head slightly when it was said plainly that he wanted him, breath hitching when Alessandro pressed himself closer, blush spreading across his face. God, now he could feel him. His pulse sped up then, pounding in his ears, so loudly he almost missed what alessandro had said. "Ale," he breathed, sort of untangling his arms from around him and reaching up to sort of cup his face with one hand. "I'm fine. Really." He wasn't sure if that would convince him. Wasn't sure what all he could say. But his mind was very far away from anything but the way he could feel Ale against him. The way his scent was swirling around the air in a way that seemed to intoxicate him. The way he wanted him to take him, no more questions asked. He was fine. He just needed ale to believe that. |
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Alessandro didn’t answer Sage’s words right away. He held his gaze for one more measured second, reading him the way he read battlefields—breath, color, steadiness, the truth beneath the want. Sage was flushed, eager, alive. Not fragile. Not breaking. “…Fine, don't regret this later” Alessandro said at last, quietly. Decisively. And then he moved. One moment Sage was cupping his face, the next Alessandro’s hands were on him—firm, unyielding, all practiced strength—as he lifted Sage clean off the floor and slung him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing at all. “Careful,” Alessandro warned, tone calm and utterly unbothered. “Or I drop you.” He gave Sage's butt a slap for good measure. He turned toward the hall without missing a step. Blitz rose instantly, tail wagging, clearly assuming this was an invitation. Stryker followed half a pace behind, ever watchful. Alessandro stopped. He turned his head just enough to fix them with a look that had made grown men rethink their life choices. “No,” he said flatly. Blitz froze. “Stryker—stay.” Stryker sat immediately. Blitz took one more hopeful step. Alessandro’s glare sharpened. “Bedroom’s off-limits today. No exceptions.” Blitz let out a low, offended huff but backed off, flopping down dramatically in the doorway like a martyr. “Good,” Alessandro said, and resumed walking. Sage bounced slightly with each step. Alessandro’s grip never faltered—secure, confident, unmistakably in control—as he carried him down the hall. “You wanted fun,” Alessandro said over his shoulder, voice low, edged with something dangerous and amused. “Next time, be prepared for how I choose to provide it.” The bedroom door opened. And closed. Firmly. |
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Sage had just grinned widely when alessandro had accepted the fact that he was fine. He just told there for a moment, probably more confident than he should have been given the fact that Alessandros expression had turned quite dark indeed. The next thing he knew, he was being tossed around like he weighed absolutely nothing. He let out a yelp of surprise, sort of staring at Alessandro as he walked down the hallway. Well....staring at as much of him as he could. He was so surprised he didn't even yell about putting him down. He did twist around to wave bye to the wolves, who didn't seem very happy about being left out. The slap on his behind didn't help things of course ....though no doubt alessandro knew exactly what he was doing when he'd done it. He chuckled when alessandro spoke up though, sort of twisting to peer I er at him. "I dunno, I think carrying me around is quite sexy of you," he purred. By the time the door closed, he was fairly exited, and let alessandro drop him into his bed, a wide grin on his face as he sprawled across the mattress. |
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Alessandro let the moment linger only a second longer than was wise. Then he straightened, rolling away with controlled ease, putting space between them before things tipped into territory he wasn’t prepared to cross—not tonight. He reached for his shirt, pulling it back on with practiced calm, even as Sage’s laughter and warmth still clung to him in a way he didn’t quite have a name for. “You’re going to regret saying that,” Alessandro replied dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. As the night settled and the house grew quieter, he moved with intent—checking doors, lights, the familiar routine that grounded him. When he returned, Sage was already half-relaxed, the day finally catching up to him. Alessandro stopped just inside the doorway. “Sage,” he said, tone steady, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “You can sleep here if you want, I don't want to force you to leave. I won’t be staying though.” He held up a hand before Sage could protest, voice calm but firm. “It’s not negotiable.” He didn’t offer reasons. Didn’t soften it with jokes or explanations. He simply met Sage’s gaze, dark eyes unreadable. “I’ll be down the hall” he added. “If you need anything, you call out. I’ll hear you.” A pause. “This isn’t about distance,” Alessandro said quietly, choosing his words with care. “It’s about safety.” He stepped back, giving Sage space, the decision already made. As he turned away, Stryker padded after him instinctively, casting one last look back before following Alessandro into the darkness. Alessandro closed his door behind him with deliberate care, the click of the latch echoing far louder in his head than it should have. Some things were safer kept separate. Even when he didn’t entirely want them to be. |
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Sage had simply chuckled softly at Alessandros comment, not arguing. He wouldn't regret it, he knew that, but he was rather tired by then and he knew he did need some sleep. He'd just been scolded by the doctor for not sleeping enough, after all. He moved to get dressed too, a soft groan escaping his lips as his muscles protested the movement. When Alessandro mentioned he wouldnt be staying, he opened his mouth to argue, but was quickly shut down. He just nodded in response to him comments, offering him a small smile, though once the door clicked it faded slightly. He lay down, but the room suddenly fel too empty. He got up with a sigh after a moment or so, moving back towards his own room, gesturing for blitz to come this time. Since he was still rather sweaty and gross, he opted for a nice warm bath, relaxing into the hot water once the tub was full and closing his eyes. A smile formed on his face as he recalled the nights events, but that now came with a sharp pang that wasn't as good as the others. He opened his eyes again with a sigh. He'd been hoping they could have just curled up together. Slept. That he could have woken up with Alessandros arms around him. He felt safe there. Did alessandro not feel the same way? He didn't want to think so, but a nagging doubt started to knaw at his stomach. Had he just wanted to bang him and then move on? Was that why he was here? He didn't know. |
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Alessandro slept lightly. He always did. The room was dark, meticulously ordered—shadows clean, corners known. Stryker lay near the door, unmoving, a silent sentry who understood without being told that nights were not for closeness. Sleep, when it came, dragged him under without mercy. He was back in the alley. The smell hit first—cordite, blood, rain-soaked concrete. Luca was ahead of him, shouting something Alessandro couldn’t hear over the gunfire. Everything was too loud, too fast. Men pouring in from both ends, betrayal stitched into their faces. A deal gone wrong. An ambush they should have seen. Alessandro moved. Always moved. But Luca stumbled. He remembered that moment with perfect clarity every time: the half-turn of his brother’s head, eyes wide not with fear, but realization. Not this. Not here. Not like this. A shot rang out—too close, too final. Luca hit the ground hard, blood blooming dark against his white shirt. Alessandro dropped beside him, hands slick, trying to stop something that could not be stopped. Luca’s mouth moved. A name. Maybe his. Maybe their mother’s. Alessandro never knew. Then boots. Shadows closing in. Someone raised a gun. Alessandro woke with a violent inhale. His hand was already moving. Steel whispered free from beneath his pillow, the blade pressed forward, body half-turned, muscles coiled to strike before his mind fully caught up. His eyes scanned the room—door, windows, corners—measuring threats that weren’t there. Nothing moved. Only his own breathing, sharp and controlled now. The echo of the dream still rang in his bones. Stryker didn’t approach. He never did after nights like this. He remained where he was, watching, knowing that anything crossing Alessandro’s space too quickly would be met with instinct before recognition. After a long moment, Alessandro lowered the knife. He sat on the edge of the bed, forearms braced on his thighs, head bowed slightly. Luca’s face lingered behind his eyes, as it always did. The weight of inheritance. Of survival. Of being the one who lived. His jaw tightened. This—this—was why Sage couldn’t sleep beside him. Not the nightmares alone, but what came after them. The reflexes carved in blood and consequence. The part of him that woke ready to kill before it remembered where it was. Alessandro sheathed the knife carefully and stood, moving to the window. Dawn was still hours away. Somewhere down the hall, Sage was safe. Alive. Breathing. Alessandro stayed awake for the rest of the night, keeping watch—over the house, over the silence, over ghosts that refused to stay buried. |
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Eventually, the water grew too cold for sage to be comfortable, so he slipped out of the bath tub, drying off and putting his pajamas on slowly. He'd dozed off at some point, only waking because of the waters temperature, so he was only half awake as he worked. He moved out of the bathroom, patting blitz gently as he moved, pausing beside the bed before crawling in with a sigh. The room felt cold. Too big. All sorts of things that it hasn't felt like before. The pleasure of the night had already been forgotten as his eyes drifted shut. Even blitz taking his place beside him failed to warm him up. He fell asleep curled up in a ball, only able to sleep because his body was so exhausted. The morning came soon enough, and he stirred to the rising sun outside the window. He sat up as to peer at the clock, running a hand over his face with a sigh. It was early, but he wouldn't be sleeping any more. He moved to throw on clothes, and comb his hair out. He would normally have done eyeliner, picked out earrings. Today, he didn't. He just didn't have the energy. His mind was elsewhere. He moved down to the kitchen, flicking the light on when he arrived. No Alessandro yet. He wasn't sure whether he was hoping to see him or not. With a sigh, he moved to make his normal cup of coffee, moving to watch out the window as he slipped at it slowly, mind reeling all over again. |
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Alessandro had already been awake for a while. Sleep had come in pieces—short, restless stretches broken by thought and habit. By the time the sky began to pale, he’d given up on the idea of rest altogether. He showered, dressed, moved through the house quietly, checking doors, windows, routines he’d followed for years. Control was easier than sleep. He was pouring himself a glass of water when he heard it—the soft click of the kitchen light. Alessandro paused. Footsteps followed. Lighter than usual. Slower. He didn’t announce himself right away. Instead, he leaned in the doorway, watching. Sage stood at the counter with a mug cupped in both hands, staring out the window like the world had drifted somewhere he couldn’t quite reach. No eyeliner. No earrings. Hair combed but left loose. Smaller somehow, without the armor he usually wore. Something in Alessandro’s chest tightened. He stepped fully into the kitchen then, movements unhurried, presence unmistakable. “You’re up early,” he said quietly, voice low so as not to startle him. He crossed to the counter, stopping a respectful distance away—not crowding, not retreating either. His eyes swept Sage once, assessing without judgment. Tired. Cold. Somewhere far away. “You sleep at all?” he asked, gently. He reached for the kettle, setting it on the stove without comment, a silent offer rather than an insistence. Routine. Warmth. Something solid. After a moment, he added, softer, “You don’t have to be ‘on’ today. Not for me.” His gaze shifted briefly to the window Sage was watching, then back to him. Steady. Grounded. |
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Afternoon Storms, then Clearing
