Los Angeles shimmered in the late evening glow, the last threads of sunlight fading over the skyline. The gym had emptied out an hour ago, the fluorescent lights overhead humming softly in the near silence. Liam moved through the familiar end-of-day routine - wiping down the benches, re-racking weights, setting things right for tomorrow. It was meditative, grounding. A quiet moment after a long day.
He hadn’t properly spoken to Carlo since their last encounter three days ago - the one that had ended with a kiss.
That kiss.
Liam tried not to think about it too much, but it haunted him — not in a bad way, but in that kind of heady, slow-burning way that snuck up on you at night when everything was quiet. Carlo had leaned in so carefully, like a man stepping across a line he hadn’t realized he was allowed to cross. And Liam… he had kissed him back. Not because of curiosity. Not because of the thrill of kissing a prince. But because, inexplicably, that moment had felt right.
Still, neither of them had spoken about it since. There was still the occasional text, one training session, but otherwise, nothing. Just the echo of that moment.
Liam switched off the final row of lights, the gym now cast in a gentle twilight from the street lamps outside. He pulled the key from his pocket and walked to the front entrance. And stopped.
A figure sat on the steps outside, arms resting on his knees, back straight, head tilted slightly as if listening to the rhythm of the city. Carlo.
His dark hair was tousled from the breeze, and he wore a soft gray jacket over a white button-down shirt, the collar slightly rumpled like he’d been fidgeting with it. He stood the moment he saw Liam.
“You’re still here,” Carlo said softly. “Didn’t think I’d see you here at this hour.” Liam's voice was friendly, borderline neutral, but inside his heart kicked up, sudden and wild. He vividly remembered the kiss, the feel of Carlo’s hardness against his own, the nightly jerk-off sessions where he recalled every inch of Carlo’s body, the longing for more..
“I wasn’t sure if I should come. But then I realised I wanted to.” Carlo smiled, unsure. “Are you done for the night?”
“I am.” Liam smiled.
Carlo took a step closer. “I’d like you to come with me.” His voice laced with innuendo- or did Liam just wish it to be? Liam hesitated. “Where?”
“My place,” Carlo said. “I... I made something. And I’d like you to see it. Taste it.”
There was a beat of silence, heavy with implications neither of them dared say aloud. But Liam saw it in Carlo’s eyes — something gentle, hopeful, and vulnerable. He nodded. “Lead the way.”
Carlo’s apartment was tucked high in one of the newer high-rises downtown, elegant but understated. It wasn’t royal, but it was carefully curated — clean lines, soft woods, large windows that framed the city like a painting. The scent hit Liam as soon as they stepped inside. Tomatoes, garlic, herbs, and something rich and earthy.
“You ordered in?” Liam asked, amused.
“I did not,” Carlo said with mock offense. “Contrary to what you might think, I am capable of using a stove. I used to help my grandmother in Bologna. She taught me how to make pizzaiola.”
He motioned to a candlelit table with a few rose petals strewn on it set near the window. A single bottle of red wine was already open. Liam's eyes darted to the stovetop, and the kitchen wasn’t as pristine as he imagined it would be. Clearly someone had been cooking. The dish waited, steaming gently, the sauce glistening over tender slices of beef and fresh herbs.
Liam raised an eyebrow, smiling. “You did all this for me?”
Carlo rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “I wanted to say thank you. For being patient with me. And maybe also... for not being awkward after the kiss.”
Liam smiled and stepped toward the table. “It smells amazing. If you cook like this every time someone kisses you, I might do it more often.” Carlo laughed, and the tension between them eased. Carlo dished for them, they sat, poured the wine, and began eating.
For a while, they simply enjoyed the meal, the conversation light. They talked about music, Liam’s clients, the bizarre personalities at the gym. Carlo regaled Liam with tales of his childhood. But eventually, the mood shifted. Carlo leaned back, swirling his wine. It was clear that something weighed on his mind.
“My family doesn’t know,” he said finally. “About me. About... this.”
Liam met his gaze. “You mean about being gay?”
Carlo nodded slowly. “Or bi. I’m not sure. I’ve never felt like this before. Not for a man. Not for anyone. Not until you.” The confession hung between them, quiet and reverent.
Liam swallowed. “I didn’t realize it was new for you.”
“I always dated women. My father has plans — marriage, heirs, alliances. There was no space to question it. And even if I did...” He looked away. “It was safer not to.”
He paused, then leaned forward slightly, fingers circling the rim of his wineglass.
Liam felt compelled to fill the silence that hung between them “I was lucky, honestly. My parents... they were surprised when I came out, sure. I think they’d always assumed I was straight. I played sports, dated casually. I didn’t exactly fit their idea of what a ‘gay kid’ was supposed to be.”
Carlo’s eyes softened. “You don’t present like the stereotype.”
Liam scoffed. “Exactly. Whatever that might be though. I've always found that line of thought a bit offensive to be honest. So, when I told them, they were shocked. There were tears. A few weeks of awkward dinners. But they came around. They always loved me — that never wavered. I just think it took them time to understand that being gay didn’t change who I was. Eventually, they came around and we now speak openly about it. They even boast to their friends about how proud they are of me for living an authentic life.”
“That’s... beautiful,” Carlo said, voice quiet.
“Yeah. It is.” Liam smiled at the memory. “I know not everyone gets that. I think that’s why I don’t hide who I am. Because I know I’m lucky to be seen, to be accepted. I want other people to feel like they can be, too.”
There was a pause. The candle flickered in the quiet between them.
“I envy that,” Carlo said. “I don’t know if my father would ever understand. My mother... maybe. But everything in my life has been decided for me. Every relationship vetted, every move strategic.”
“But this isn’t strategic?” Liam asked. “Us?”
“No,” Carlo replied. “This feels... like the first thing I’ve done for myself in a long time. The first thing that means so much to me, I swore my security detail to silence.” Carlo reached across the table, fingers brushing Liam’s hand. “You make me want to be braver.” Liam’s breath caught. “You already are,” he said softly.
And then, as if drawn together by an invisible string, they leaned in — slow, searching, hesitant. Their lips met again, deeper this time, more certain. The kiss burned through the quiet - fingers gripping fabric, breaths caught between sighs and need. Carlo pushed aside the plate between them, cupping Liam’s jaw, and kissed him harder, more urgently. Liam stood, pulling Carlo with him, and the two staggered together, heat rising like a tide.
Liam tugged on Carlo’s shirt, unbuttoning it from the top. Slowly at first, then more urgent, until Carlo ripped at it. Buttons popping, he stood before Carlo, chest and washboard abs on display.
But they never broke the kiss. Not until Liam slowly moved his mouth down Carlo’s cheek - then even lower planting feverish kisses down his neck, reaching his torso where he first gently sucked on those perfect little olive nipples, then biting one, softly. Carlo’s hands found Liam’s hair, kept his mouth on his nipples. Carlo let out a low rumble of passion. “Fuuuck.. Liam that feels so good”.
Liam ventured further – soft kisses exploring Carlo’s chest, his stomach, his belly button. Carlo gripped at nothing in particular as another low rumble escaped his throat. “So.. so good” he mumbled..
Liam’s hands found Carlo’s belt buckle. He fidgeted with it for a while, eyes darting up to Carlo’s, as if asking for permission. And in Carlo’s hazel eyes, lost in pleasure and wonder, he found his answer.
Yes.
He unclipped the belt, lowered the zipper. Carlo helped him to shimmy out of his jeans, and Liam took in the sight of this man – this gorgeous hunk who was fast capturing his heart – standing before him in nothing but briefs and an open shirt. His cock rock hard.
Liam planted a soft kiss on Carlo’s cock, sucked on the tip that was still concealed, took his time to show Carlo how much he was enjoying pleasuring him. Carlo took him by the chin, gently, pulled him up and kissed him again. Tongue duelling tongue they explored each other’s mouths, both sighing contented in between kisses, hands roaming over each other’s bodies. Carlo helped Liam out of his shirt, and they stood there, in each other’s arms, for a long time. Just enjoying the feel of each other’s heartbeats, while they were bare chest to bare chest.
It was Carlo who broke their embrace. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to, but I think we should take this to the bedroom.” Liam smiled, assuring, and placed his hands in Carlo’s. “I’m at your mercy.”
Carlo stepped inside the bedroom and turned to face Liam. He removed his shirt, letting it pool to the floor and stood before Liam, more vulnerable than ever. It was as if he wanted to say, “This is who I am”. Liam took off the remainder of his clothes and stood facing Carlo – as naked as the day he was born. His cock rock hard, sticking straight out in front of him – all seven inches on display. It was as if he wanted to say, “And this is who I am..”.
It was almost a dare.
But it was also an acknowledgement that this was real. It wasn’t play-pretend anymore. And they were definitely past the point of ignoring their attraction for one another. Carlo also dropped his briefs, allowing Liam to take in everything he had to offer. The full eight inches. A small drop of precum hanging on the tip of his dick. They looked each other up and down, slowly, taking in everything, but not taking anything in at all. They were completely, utterly, lost in what their eyes were exploring.
Until they lunged at each other with such ferocity it felt like the earth itself was spinning out of control. Liam pushed Carlo onto the bed and kissed him, feverish, hands gripping, nails digging, leaving no inch of flesh unexplored. And Carlo embraced this new world by doing the exact same thing. Hands kneading flesh, teeth nipping at a lip, a shoulder, a nipple.
Liam kissed his way down Carlo’s torso again – only this time he didn’t stop at the belly button – he went further. Liam knelt between Carlo’s legs, the city lights spilling in through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting his skin in molten gold. Carlo’s cock - thick, flushed, dripping - stood like a promise before him. Liam didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his hand around the base, warm and pulsing, and ran his tongue over the tip like a man tasting forbidden fruit.
Carlo let out a breath - part groan, part gasp - as Liam’s lips parted and slowly took him in. Inch by inch. Worshipfully. Hungrily.
His tongue curled beneath the shaft, following every ridge, tracing every vein. He hollowed his cheeks, drew back with a slick pop, then dove down again, deeper, until his nose was pressed into Carlo’s groin. The scent of him - spice, sweat, clean cotton and something entirely male - made Liam’s head spin.
Carlo’s fingers dug into Liam’s curls, not to control him, but to hold on - to survive it. His thighs trembled. His back arched. Every moan that escaped him was raw and unravelled. “Look at me,” Liam murmured, his lips stretched wide around Carlo’s cock. Carlo obeyed, eyes glassy, mouth parted.
“Liam… oh, fuck… I—”
Liam’s response was to hum around the shaft, sending vibrations straight through Carlo’s core. He spit-slicked it, stroked it, sucked with rhythmic pressure that made Carlo twitch and jerk beneath him. He was relentless. Focused. Devoted. Every swallow, every bob of his head, was an act of pure want.
Carlo tried to pull away - too polite, too trained to lose control - but Liam looked up, mouth still wrapped around him, and growled, “Don’t hold back.”
And Carlo didn’t.
His orgasm hit like lightning- violent, explosive. With a choked cry, he came deep in Liam’s throat, flooding it with hot, salty ropes of release. Liam didn’t flinch. The taste of him - sharp, saline, almost sweet - spilled down Liam’s throat like a confession. He drank him down greedily, licking every drop, until Carlo collapsed backward, gasping, spent.
There, in that flickering candlelight, Liam licked his lips- still glossy with Carlo’s cum - and whispered, “Now you know how good surrender can feel.”
“I never dreamed..” Carlo whispered, “that it could feel this good”. He wiped the remaining cum off Liam’s lips and embraced him – planted a few soft kisses on Liam’s lips. Tasted his own cum on it, and to his own astonishment, found it intoxicating - the taste of himself on Liam’s lips. “Thank you.”
It didn’t go further than that. Not that night.
They eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms, tangled under the sheets in Carlo’s bed, the noise of the city softened by the altitude and the hush of early dawn.
Liam woke first.
Sunlight filtered through the pale curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. Carlo was still asleep beside him, his hair a mess, lips slightly parted in the deepest kind of peace.
Liam smiled and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
There was so much they hadn’t figured out — the press, the crown, Carlo’s father. But none of it mattered in this moment.
Because this morning, for the first time in a long time, Liam didn’t just feel wanted. He felt chosen.
