Randoms:

In the shadowed underbelly of Venice, where the canals whispered secrets to the fog-shrouded bridges, there lived a man named Dario. He was a ghost in leather and steel, his body honed like a blade from years of duels and deceptions. Shirtless under the moon’s indifferent gaze, his muscled torso gleamed with sweat, the red sash at his waist a slash of blood against the black of his trousers. Gauntlets hugged his forearms, daggers dangled like promises of violence, and in his gloved hand, a rapier hung loose, ready to sing its deadly song.

Dario leaned against the crumbling wall of an abandoned palazzo, ivy clawing at the stone like fingers from the grave. The night air was thick with the scent of salt and sin, and he waited, as he always did, for the next mark. But tonight was different. Tonight, the shadows birthed not an enemy, but a temptation.

His name was Luca, a young informant with eyes like polished obsidian and a body that moved with the grace of a thief. He’d been tailing Dario for weeks, feeding scraps to the rival guilds, but curiosity had turned to something darker, hungrier. Luca emerged from the alley, his cloak discarded, revealing a lithe frame clad in simple linens that clung to his skin in the humid night.

“You think you can hide from me?” Dario’s voice was a low growl, his moustache twitching with a smirk. He sheathed his rapier with a deliberate slowness, the metal scraping like a lover’s nails on flesh.

Luca stepped closer, his breath quickening. “I don’t want to hide. I want to know you.”

The air crackled between them, charged like the storm brewing over the lagoon. Dario’s gloved hand shot out, pinning Luca against the wall, the ivy rustling in protest. Their faces inches apart, Dario’s dark eyes bored into Luca’s, searching for deceit. Finding none, only desire.

In one fluid motion, Dario’s mouth claimed Luca’s, rough and demanding, tasting of wine and danger. Luca gasped, his hands roaming over Dario’s bare chest, fingers tracing the ridges of muscle, the faint scars from forgotten battles. Dario’s free hand tugged at Luca’s shirt, ripping it open with a savage tear, exposing smooth, heated skin.

They tumbled into the palazzo’s ruins, the floor a mosaic of broken tiles and forgotten grandeur. Dario pushed Luca down, his body a weight of dominance and need. He peeled off his gloves, revealing calloused hands that explored Luca’s form with expert precision—teasing nipples to hardness, sliding down to unbuckle the lad’s belt. Luca arched, moaning as Dario’s fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock, stroking with a rhythm that mirrored the canal’s lapping waves.

“You’re mine now,” Dario murmured, his voice laced with possession. He shed his trousers, his own arousal springing free, thick and veined, demanding attention. Luca’s eyes widened, but he reached for it eagerly, his mouth enveloping the head, tongue swirling in worship. Dario groaned, threading fingers through Luca’s hair, guiding him deeper, the wet sounds echoing in the empty hall.

But Dario craved more. He pulled Luca up, turning him against the wall, the ivy framing their union like a verdant curtain. Spitting into his palm, Dario prepared himself, then Luca, fingers probing the tight entrance until Luca begged, his body trembling. With a thrust, Dario entered him, slow at first, savouring the clench, the heat. Luca cried out, pain melding into ecstasy as Dario built a relentless pace, hips slamming forward, the red sash slapping against skin.

Their bodies moved in a dance of shadows and light, sweat-slicked and urgent. Dario’s hand found Luca’s cock again, pumping in time with his thrusts, until Luca shattered, spilling over Dario’s fingers with a shuddering gasp. The sight pushed Dario over the edge; he buried himself deep, releasing with a guttural roar, filling Luca as the night swallowed their cries.

They collapsed together, entangled in the ruins, breaths mingling. But in this noir world of betrayal, Dario knew dawn would bring questions. For now, though, in the grip of passion’s aftermath, he allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability—his arm draped over Luca, the rapier forgotten on the floor. The city slept on, oblivious to the fire they’d ignited in its decayed heart.