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The Shining and the Light

Terzo had been told to 'go fuck himself' on many an occasion.

What he didn't realise was that Absinthe would be the cause of his very own 'self love' journey, in the most literal sense...

Pairing: Retired Terzo x Papa Terzo

Rating: Explicit, to nobody's surprise. MDNI!

❗️CW: SELFCEST - potential DDDNE❗️

Tags: poorly translated Italian and Latin, alcohol use, masturbation, teasing, body image issues, blowjobs, cum eating, body worship, mirror masturbation/handjob, biting, handjobs, alcohol spitting, face sitting, anilingus, fingering, premature ejaculation, anal sex, overstimulation, and of course a tiiiny sprinkle of angst. ♡

Word count: ~6k

AO3 LINK

As always, dividers by the wonderful @/saradika-graphics!

Frankly, Terzo could think of worse ways to commemorate the twentieth anniversary of his first stage appearance.

Retiring to his room early, he'd stoked the fire, lighting a few candles and inhaling deeply. Delicate wisps of smoke halo him as he tugs his hair down out of its messy bun, allowing it to fall in gentle waves over his shoulders.

Taking off his glasses, he rubs tiredly at the bridge of his nose as he turns towards the bathroom. Padding over, his mind is changed when his eyes alight on a crystal bottle. The emerald liquid within is nearly half-gone, the decanter covered in a thin layer of dust.

He smiles fondly as he remembers Primo's words on presenting it to him: 'Have care. This particular spirit is stronger than you may think, fratellino...'

He remembers how he'd waved it off, chuckling at his younger self's arrogance. However much he didn't want to admit it, the fact that his older brother had deigned to even make something for him warmed his heart a little, even now.

The memories from the after-party of the first show were a blur, a spear of pain burning through his temples even now as he tries to recall.

He reaches out, picking up the bottle and wiping away two decades of age, before locating a glass. For old times sake. If he was going to partake, he wanted to do this properly.

He strips off, dressing in a deep plum silk robe. He takes a moment to enjoy the sensation of the delicate material whispering over his skin before settling in front of the fire.

Reclining into the leather of the couch, he braves his first sip. The taste is certainly acquired, and stronger than he remembers. Probably the age, he muses as he holds the glass up to dancing flames, considering it.

His head already feels light, his thoughts nothing more than wisps of cloud, as he swallows another mouthful. The warmth from the fire sinks under his skin, pooling pleasantly between his legs. He glances down and chuckles wryly at the sight of his arousal tenting impressively through the silk.

Spreading his thighs apart, he catches sight of his debauched reflection in the mirror inlaid next to the fire. His skin is lightly flushed, a sheen of sweat building over his chest and stomach.

Pulling aside damp silk, he gives himself an experimental stroke, breath shuddering as his thumb presses over the sensitive head of his cock. He drains the remainder of the liquor before setting the glass aside.

No sense rushing things.

He begins at an almost teasing pace, allowing precum to pool before slicking it down his length. Imagining a nameless spectre in front of him, mouth open and willing. Eyes rolling shut, his head falls back onto the couch as his toes curl into the soft pile of the rug.

He barely notices the green glow behind his closed eyes, pays no mind to the sensation of eyes on him. Just your imagination. Close, so close.

'Open your eyes.'

His whole body jolts as he hears the soft whisper from the shadows. Swearing violently, he tries to move, but the alcohol has taken hold, invisible hands weighing him down. The voice comes again, laced with annoyance.

'Calmati, old man. I must have just taken a wrong turn on my way to the-'

Terzo groans, wiping a hand shakily over his face as he tries to protect his modesty as best he can.

'Just. Get out. Per favore.'

A few non-too-complimentary words are muttered in rapid-fire Italian as Terzo watches the shadows coalesce into a figure.

His breath catches as the figment steps out of the shadows, the svelte silhouette all too familiar. He blinks, trying to clear vision fogged by memories, lust and Absinthe.

That cocky grin, one that he'd seen looking back at him in the mirror on untold occasions, now stared back him from a few metres away. It didn't seem possible, but standing in front of him, as solid as anything, was... himself.

But decades younger, his smirk achingly self-assured, brushing invisible crumbs from his sleeves, face paint crisp and irritatingly smooth. Brushing stray tendrils of hair out of his face, the younger man laughs in disbelief.

'So this is what the old man meant,' he scoffs to nobody in particular as he closes in, spotting the empty glass and half-full decanter, 'fucking Primo and his secret recipes...'

Elder lets the younger man babble for a moment as he collects his thoughts. He wasn't ready for whatever this was. He could barely bring himself to meet... his own eyes, choosing to fixate on his counterpart's silk-covered shoulder. Terrified by what he would see, a secret still buried deep under layers of practiced self-assuredness.

He knew it would be there; from the outfit Younger was wearing, he could pinpoint exactly when this apparent apparition had manifested from. No wonder he had no memory of that night. Swallowing hard, the effects of the alcohol having long since dissipated, he forces himself to look.

A pang of envy stabs into his gut as he follows sumptuous silk draped over a slim frame; every inch of clothing made to measure, to fit just so. Everything perfect, everything neat and in its proper place; begging to be corrupted.

An unexpected, but not unwelcome pulse of heat pools anew between his thighs as he remembers the sinfully beautiful body that lies beneath. His gaze flits upwards to a sly and knowing smile; remembering who exactly he's staring at, Elder straightens up.

Unwilling to look his younger self in the eyes, yet apparently just as unwilling to look away, he blindly gropes for a cushion to hide himself. Either the bulge of his stomach, or the swell of his cock, his pride didn't care which at this point.

With a slow, indulgent smile, Younger reaches over, plucking a velvet burgundy cushion that was just out of Elder's reach. Bending forwards, he holds it teasingly in front of his face between forefinger and thumb.

'Looking for this, old man?'

The humiliation is unbearable, as Elder catches sight of himself in the burnished mirror over his counterpart's shoulder. A light pink blush that he could blame on the after-effects of the alcohol decorates the lower part of his face and neck, slowly creeping down under the deep v-line of his robe.

'Smettila!' Elder spits. 'You're just a figment- that damned Absinthe. I knew I couldn't trust Primo with making it ri- fuck!'

In the midst of his griping, Elder hadn't noticed Younger shift closer. Lifting a leg, he grins; teasing the older man's aching cock with the tip of his polished shoe.

'D'you think a mere figment could do this, cuore?' Younger breathes wickedly, initially delighting in the way Elder squirms.

However, as he presses forward into the older man's space, Younger notices how Elder's eyes screw shut. He watches in confusion as the older man's body curls in on itself; as if he's trying to make himself appear smaller.

Younger pauses, eyes widening imperceptibly as he realises the reason for the older man's discomfort.

Pulling away, the younger man kneels before him as Elder snatches the cushion back, holding it over as much of the swell of his stomach as he can. His heart splinters in his chest as Elder sighs deeply, breath catching on a slight sob.

Younger frowns sadly, before taking Elder's bare hand between his gloved ones. He is momentarily captivated by it, admiring a broad palm; olive skin softened and blessed with age.

'Perdonami,' Younger murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of Elder's hand and feeling his pulse jump under his fingers, 'I didn't realise-'

'Don't,' Elder smiles softly, finally meeting the younger man's eyes properly, 'I just... wish I could've been more impressive to you than- than this.'

Younger feels his stomach flip as moss-green and pale white eyes meet his own. This was the part of him he'd tried so long to hide, the vulnerability buried under bullish bravado and boyish charm.

The years had softened his older counterpart, bringing with it wisdom and patience; some acceptance of his flaws. But still, that slight uncertainty remained; the innate need to be seen and appreciated for who he truly was.

Time seems to ache as Elder loses himself in the younger man's eyes. Chuckling ruefully to himself, the irony of falling under his own spell is not lost on him, as he takes a grounding breath.

Younger shifts, reaching wordlessly for the cushion again. Elder lets him take it, swallowing hard as he tries to fight the instinct to shrink away.

Younger's smile widens as he takes him in, and the older man realises his bravery has paid off. Not-so-subtly adjusting himself in his pants, Younger shuffles forwards, enjoying the heat now surrounding him.

'Let me see you, Papa,' Younger murmurs lowly as his hands drop to the cushion of Elder's thighs, massaging slow circles with his thumbs, 'all of you. May I?'

Elder jolts at the use of his old title, but Younger sees how his cock twitches anew under the drape of his robe, precum soaking into the thin fabric. With renewed confidence, Elder lets the younger man tug at the silken tie of his robe. Parting his legs, he allows the material to fall away as he bares himself to his own scrutiny.

Younger's mouth goes dry, and he didn't think it was possible to be more turned on than he was in that moment. The older man had done the impossible: rendered himself speechless.

Candlelight flickers over the dips and curves of Elder's torso, and Younger has to ball his hands into fists with how he aches to explore every valley with his fingers.

Soft, thickly layered hair covers the swell of his chest; deep chestnut shot through with precious strands of silver. Platinum nipple piercings shimmer in the low light, capturing dancing flames within. A low sigh pulls his gaze further up, and Younger's heart leaps at the sight.

The older man bathes in the flickering candlelight, dark waves floating wildly around his handsome face and cascading over his shoulders. His smile is serene as he gives himself over to his younger counterpart's worship.

Every bit the fallen angel; truly blessed by the Old One himself.

The younger man swallows hard as he follows a slim trail of hair over the cushion of Elder's stomach and further down. He'd seen the outline of his prize through silk, the direct mirror of his own need. The sight of his own cock, nearly scarlet and leaking mere centimetres from his face, almost becomes his undoing.

How could he not find himself impressive?

Not for the first time was he thankful that his trousers had enough space to mask his own sizeable need. Squeezing his thighs together, he shuffles forwards; testing the waters with a tentative kitten lick over Elder's slit.

The effect is near-instantaneous. With a growl, Elder's broad hand wraps around the base of his skull, barely giving the younger man time to nod eagerly before thrusting forwards. Younger gags slightly at the sudden but welcome intrusion, clasping onto the width of the older man's hips as he bottoms out.

Elder moves to pull out, but he's stopped by a muffled uh uh from the man beneath him, nails digging into the meat of his waist. Younger looks up at him, eyes sparkling mischievously as his tongue explores every inch of the older man.

Elder groans, not wanting to look away as Younger's cheeks hollow out, saliva dripping obscenely onto Elder's balls as the younger man pledges his fealty.

'Little- shit-' Elder grits out, feeling the telltale pressure already beginning to build between his hips. Younger lets out a low hum as he takes the older man even deeper, burying his nose against where Elder's scent is the richest and inhaling.

A challenge.

A graze of teeth and an almost angelic look from under dark lashes is enough to undo him. Crying out, Elder feels his cock pulse, spilling his desire down the younger man's willing throat.

Barely able to keep up with the amount of spend saturating his mouth, Younger splutters slightly, before pulling away. A few feeble spurts land on the inky black of his paint, a blasphemous constellation gliding down his face.

Breathless and boneless, Elder slumps back onto the couch, feeling like his soul had disappeared down Younger's throat. Chuckling ruefully to himself, he looks down at the man still kneeling, still eager in front of him. The sight is too much. His younger self gazes up at Elder like he'd laid the heavens.

'Is everything alright, angelo mio? You- you are going to be my ruin, do you realise?'

Younger pauses for a moment, considering the question, before slowly sticking out his tongue. Elder's unholy communion glistens sinfully against the pink of the soft muscle, the perfect image of defilement.

The older man groans at the debauched sight, cock twitching through the ghost of another orgasm. Younger makes a deliberate show of catching the stray pearlescent drops leaking down his cheek on a gold-tipped finger, lifting it to his lips.

Elder watches Younger's Adams apple bob as he swallows the remains of the older man's release, the dancing candles shimmering jewel-bright in his eyes.

'Now do you believe me, old man?' Younger smirks wickedly, running sharp pinpricks up Elder's thighs as he stands. 'Do you see what you do?'

The strain of his clothed cock is at Elder's eye level, and it's all the older man can do to not lunge off the couch towards him. Instead he waits, eyes fluttering closed as he feels the couch dip next to him.

Lithe legs trap his ample waist as greedy hands tug him backwards to rest his head on Younger's shoulder. 'Open your eyes, amore,' Younger purrs against the shell of his ear, 'look at yourself. See what I see.'

He does, and it feels like the world has stopped. Younger meets his eyes in the silver of the mirror, his smile self-satisfied and more than a little insatiable. All his imperfections seem unimportant as he loses himself in the depths of his own eyes.

No longer hidden; brought back into the light at last.

So enamoured is he by the vision in front of him, he barely notices Younger sliding the robe off his shoulders. The soft slide of silk is chased by the cool scratch of golden nails. Almost without thinking, Elder arches upwards, chasing the pain.

'That's it...' the younger man murmurs against the damp skin of his neck as his hands begin to explore, 'let me show you what true worship feels like.'

If Elder wasn't so turned on, he would've laughed aloud. Such arrogance. But the noise changes in his throat as sharp nailtips tease over the piercings threaded through his nipples, the burn of pleasure-pain filling his cock once more.

Hot kisses trail downwards over the thundering pulse in his neck before sharp teeth press into the hollow of his shoulder. At the same time, self-sure hands wrap around the meat of his hips, nails tracing the silvered stretchmarks of his lower stomach.

Younger smirks against the older man's abused skin, blowing a soft puff of air over the rapidly purpling mark.

'Perfetto,' he whispers, a single finger teasing down Elder's hardening length, as if blessing every raised vein, 'how I wish you could see yourself as I do. Simply beautiful. That innate beauty clearly doesn't change with age, ovviamente.'

Elder makes a noise of dissent in his throat, and Younger's eyebrows knit together as he reaches up with his free hand, turning Elder's head and forcing him to meet his eyes properly.

'You disagree? But is it not insulting to me to not adore this sinful body, the one that I gave to you, that I give to you so willingly?'

Surprising the older man with his strength, Younger pulls him further between muscular thighs, deliberately rolling his hips and letting Elder feel the need pulsing between his legs. At the same time, slim fingers wrap around the base of Elder's cock.

'This,' he murmurs against Elder's lips between long, lazy movements of his wrist and gentle rocks of his hips, 'this, right here, is what you do to me. And I can feel what I do to you; your body gives you away all too easily, cucciolo. Now, are you going to do something about it, or not?'

'Che cazzo...' Elder mutters to himself as his mind begins to fog, renewed lust setting him alight. He remembers this cockiness all too well. This little shit.

And yet, he still burns for adoration, yearns to be seen once again, like he used to be. Like he is; right here, right now. Unseen, Younger reaches around, grasping the bottle of Absinthe and taking a generous swallow.

'That's it,' he breathes, leaning down to nip lightly at the older man's lower lip, chasing each breathless gasp with his tongue, 'I have you. Let go.'

At this, the younger man lowers his head, pouring all of his adoration, all of his worship, all of his need into a deep and passionate kiss. Moaning into his counterpart's mouth, the taste of Absinthe fresh on his lips, Elder feels himself cum again under the languid movements of leather against sensitive flesh.

But this time is different; his orgasm comes gently, like waves on a shore. Heat spreads gently under his skin, and it feels like time has stopped. Elder allows himself to drown in the sensation, lost in their own blissful cocoon. He whimpers softly as the last throes of his release fade away.

Pulling back to look at the younger man, Elder catches a look of uncertainty flickering briefly in the eyes he knew too well.

'What is it?' Younger blinks suddenly, shaking his head sharply.

'Niente. I just-'

Elder rests his hand gently on the younger man's cheek as their foreheads rest together. His heart aches at the indecision in Younger's eyes; yet at the same time, part of him is proud.

He's learning that he can be vulnerable... that he's allowed to show his emotions.

'I have an idea,' the older man murmurs around another languid kiss, 'but it means you'll have to trust me. Can you do that?'

Biting his lip, Younger hesitates before nodding. With a wolfish smirk, Elder pulls back.

'You need to learn to trust more, cucciolo,' he purrs, his skin still tingling from his release, 'and who better to trust in... than yourself?'

Elder glances across, watching Younger's eyes in the reflection of the mirror, an unspoken internal battle raging that he knew all too well. Swallowing resolutely, the asserting nod is surprisingly, refreshingly uncertain, his previous cockiness already beginning to slip.

Taking this as his cue, Elder stands, wincing slightly at the twinge in his knees. Taking Younger's hand in his, he smiles wistfully at how small the hand feels nestled in his broad palm, how delicate. He pulls the bottle out of the younger man's grasp, setting it gently aside.

Grasping each wrist in turn, Elder gently slides off the soiled leather of his counterparts gloves. The final barrier between their bare skin peels away, falling whisper-quiet to the floor.

He waits.

Younger is uncharacteristically quiet as he raises his palms level with Elder's chest, hovering a half-inch away. He feels the heat radiating from the older man's skin. The gentle thud of life, his life, flutters unbroken and untainted in the vein in Elder's neck.

How the younger man longs for more; to take, to truly become his own master. And yet, something in Elder's eyes has him take pause; a gentleness in him that he hadn't seen in his own reflection before.

His breath catches in his throat, and the older man smiles, knowingly. And that's what breaks him.

Greedily grasping hands wrap around Elder's neck, pulling their lips together in another searing kiss. And oh how he groans as he feels Elder's tongue slip into his mouth, drinking the sinful sounds from paint-smeared lips. Elder's hands drop to his waist, thick fingers curling around slim hips, pulling their bodies flush together as they stagger back towards the bed.

How well we fit.

Electricity surges through Younger's body when he realises Elder is hard yet again, hard against him, and his knees almost buckle, his desire thundering in his ears.

Greedy fingers fumble with his zipper, and Elder laughs into the kiss, murmuring his pride against Younger's ruined mouth. Eager teeth nip at his neck as Younger successfully frees his cock from its confines, pressing himself hungrily against Elder's soft thigh.

Elder pulls away suddenly, a familiar wicked smile curling lips smeared with grey. Younger grunts in annoyance, with an admittedly adorable pout.

Elder grins wolfishly, lust swirling uncontrollably in his gut at the sight. I really was insatiable.

'I don't think so, bello...' Elder breathes, reaching over to where his robe is crumpled on the sofa. Fumbling at the tie of his robe to free it, he turns back to the younger man.

'Learn the beauty of delayed gratification, cuore. Patience.'

Younger stops for a moment. A shudder passes through him, rippling under his skin. It's so tangible, Elder feels the transformation himself as it happens. Matching eyes meet his; less uncertain, steadier.

There you are.

He reaches out, tugging the strip from Elder's hand and folding it, before placing it flat against his eyes and tying it firmly around the back of his head.

'I trust you, caro. I trust myself.'

'Bene, amore. Very good. Now... come here to me. Follow the sound of my voice.'

Younger takes an experimental half-step forwards; on the second step, wide hands pull him down to straddle plush thighs. A thumb toys with the younger man's lower lip, opening his mouth gently, and he allows it. He feels the warm press of Elder's mouth sealing around his.

Anticipating what comes next, Younger whimpers softly, pressing himself hard against Elder's body as the bitterness of Absinthe pours down his throat. The warmth of his counterpart's tongue laps softly over his teeth, as if to follow the taste.

All the while, sure hands make short work of his buttons, Elder's head lowering to chase every inch of bared skin with tender kisses and light grazes of teeth. Younger cries out as a warm mouth closes around a pebbled nipple, tongue playing with the platinum bar threaded through it.

Even without Elder touching him properly, Younger feels stripped bare; knows how it feels to be truly seen for the first time in a long time. He doesn't notice the tears falling behind the blindfold until Elder is gently kissing them away, murmuring sweetly against damp skin.

It was then he feels it; the final shard of uncertainty pressing against his heart dissipates; his resistance falling under every kiss and every caress, until he just needs. Needs to be possessed, to be loved for who he really was.

And for the first time, his future had never felt so bright.

Everything about him is so soft; less anger, less arrogance, more patience. I'm glad I become this... that I become him. Even though I don't know that I deserve it yet.

The movement of Elder's body under him brings him back to himself. A wide palm and thick fingers wrap around his aching cock and Younger whimpers as he feels the searing heat and delicious friction of Elder's length press against his.

They've barely begun to move, and Younger is close already, every nerve-ending blazing with ecstasy. Lights twinkle behind his eyes as the flames within him change tempo, threatening to burn out of control and take them both under with it.

'Cazzo! 'm not gonna... not gonna last. Please let me- please!'

'Calmati, cucciolo. You've done so- fuck, so well... come for me-!'

Younger's orgasm slams into him like a freight train as waves of white-hot pleasure explode over him. Collapsing forwards, he cries his ecstasy into the sweat-slick skin of Elder's neck.

'Fuck, thats it Papa, I've got you... oh shit- fuck-'

The older man tenses as his head falls back, their combined spend spurting over his fist and painting their chests. Younger relaxes into him, mouthing weak kisses over his collarbone as their afterglow washes over them.

Leaning shakily back on his elbows, Elder admires the sight above him for a moment. His counterpart is a beautiful mess; salmon pink flush peeking through gaps in ruined paint. Loose tendrils of neatly coiffed hair fall into his face as he scrabbles for Elder's hands, twining slim fingers with thick to ground himself.

Elder smiles softly as he watches, rubbing a calming thumb over Younger's knuckles. When he's sure he's relaxed enough, he extricates his fingers, swiping the index through the combined mess dripping down the younger man's torso. He grins wickedly as lithe muscles quiver under his touch, his own title catching on a whimper.

'Exquisite,' he hums around his finger, making sure Younger hears how delicious their combined sin tastes. He watches as Younger reacts to the slick sound of his finger exploring his mouth, feeling sharp crescents of nails digging into the thick flesh of his hips.

'Fu-uck, you're such a tease, old man.'

Groaning lowly and grinning, Elder fucks his fingers down his throat, savouring himself thoroughly before releasing them with a lascivious pop.

Before he can sit up properly, Younger moves with uncharacteristic decisiveness, shoving broad shoulders down onto the mattress and bracketing Elder's head between muscular thighs.

Elder's reaction is instinctive; leaning upwards, his tongue finds the spot that he knows will drive his younger counterpart wild. Scooping him forwards, he begins teasing the younger man's hole, laughing softly as he feels the ring of muscle quiver, Younger's cries of pleasure pouring into the air.

'Oh c- fuck, fuck, fuck!'

Fingers tighten in his hair, almost painfully so as Younger grinds on his face, trying as best he can to fuck himself down onto Elder's tongue. Gently, the older man snakes a hand between Younger's thighs, easing a thick finger inside him.

He's hell wrapped in sin. He feels gloriously hot, wet and silken under Elder's fingertip as he presses in further, curling his finger and tracing teasing circles where the younger man aches for him the most. He knows he's found the spot when Younger screams up to the ceiling, broken sobs of pleasure pouring into the night.

Elder doesn't relent, adding another finger and stretching him out gently as his tongue teases up the centre of Younger's balls. He continues his torturous journey upwards; tracing the vein under his sensitive length, collecting the precious taste of his counterpart on his tongue.

'Don't you fucking dare stop,' Younger babbles mindlessly, words coming in staccato bursts as he chases his pleasure, 'ti prego, gonna- again- close- oh, Papa-!'

Just as Younger's peak hits him, Elder reaches upwards, tugging away the blindfold and taking his cock into his mouth. Younger cries out as he empties himself down Elder's throat, experienced tongue and talented fingers encouraging every last drop of his love until he's whimpering brokenly.

Pulling away, the older man paints soft kisses over Younger's balls, burying his face tightly against the apex of his thighs and drawing in a deep breath. His senses are overwhelmed; the taste of his counterpart still rich on his tongue, his scent heavy in his lungs.

Before he knows it, the weight over his shoulders vanishes, and Younger's lips crash into his again. The ferocity is surprising, but not unwelcome as the younger man presses himself impatiently against Elder's cock, grinding down and pleading his need into the older man's mouth.

'Easy, amata, easy,' he soothes, guiding Younger's slim hips over his, gripping him hard enough to bruise. He teases himself against Younger's twitching hole, chuckling wickedly as Younger whimpers brokenly.

He wants to draw this out, to really show the younger man the meaning of delayed gratification. However, he feels the burn of his own pleasure rippling under his skin; he'd paid it no mind until this moment, too busy worshipping at his own altar.

He could feel his orgasm building even now, in the way his thighs quivered, trying to resist the urge to flip the younger man over and fuck him senselessly into the mattress.

But he stays patient; biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and screwing his eyes tightly shut, he eases himself slowly into Younger's welcoming warmth. Identical groans spill between frenzied kisses as he bottoms out, his younger self slick and silky-soft around him.

Younger barely has time to warn him; burying his face into the crook of Elder's neck, he whimpers as the older man fills him past anything he'd ever felt before. His release is instantaneous; thick spurts of devotion pour in between them, coating the cushion of Elder's stomach and chest once more.

The younger man pushes himself upwards, as if to move out of Elder's reach. His face burns scarlet with shame through the remainder of his paints as he closes his eyes tightly, turning his head away.

Elder reaches up to cup the younger man's face, smiling gently as tears begin to stream steadily from behind his closed eyes. Lightly, he brushes them away with his thumb, smearing the already ruined paint further.

'Salvatore,' Elder murmurs into the heated air like a prayer, 'look at me. Per favore.'

It shouldn't come as a surprise to Younger that Elder knows his own name, but the fact he dares to say it aloud has warmth blossoming like a wildfire in his chest.

Another thing that had been stolen; the pride of his birth, returned to him at last. With an experimental roll of his hips, he opens his eyes, leaning softly into Elder's touch.

Elder lets him dictate the pace, only too happy to hold him here, to meet the younger man where he is. Before he can overthink, Younger leans down until their lips are once again centimetres apart; soft gasps and moans melt into the shared space between them.

Lightly, he begins to paint kisses over Elder's jawline, following the flutter of life in his veins up to his ear.

'Ti amo, Salvatore. Thank you for letting me show you. For-'

The sentence is interrupted by Elder's hand curling into the younger man's hair, yanking him abruptly into a messy, passionate kiss. It is then when the dam breaks; Elder's hips piston upwards, impaling Younger with each thrust.

His mouth explores every inch of flesh that he can reach, capturing each snarl and cry of ecstasy with the eagerness of his tongue.

Without separating their bodies, Elder sits up suddenly, lifting Younger into the air and flipping him over with a growl as his patience snaps. They crash back down onto the mattress, stars twinkling behind Younger's eyes as the older man's weight presses him hard into the bed.

Not wanting to be apart from him for a moment, Younger wraps his arms around Elder's neck and hooks his knees over soft hips. With a grunt, he locks them firmly together, simultaneously pulling the older man deeper.

Elder pauses for a moment, his hips stuttering as he feels the tendrils of his release begin to tingle goosebumps over his skin once more. Oh, how he wants to be the first to stake his claim, to utterly ruin himself for anybody else.

Almost as if he's read his mind, Younger threads his hand firmly into dark curls and tugs the older man's mouth down to his before kissing him again, hungrily.

'I give myself,' he murmurs between greedy laps of his tongue and desperate nips of teeth, 'take what you need, Papa. Remember, this I give willingly, for you. Solo per te.'

Elder moans into the kiss, finally allowing the last of his resistance to fall away. His knees ache, his hips burn, and yet he can't stop. Doesn't want to stop, especially when the younger man feels so good under him; warm, willing and pliant.

Feeling Younger arch up against him, he hooks a brawny arm around his waist, lifting him up and pressing their torsos together. With the last ounces of his strength, the older man redoubles his thrusts, the slap of skin and low groans reaching their crescendo as his younger counterpart clutches on to him like a lifeline.

'Kiss me again,' Elder pants, feeling the burn of what would be his final release alight in his belly, 'per favore, I'm gonna-'

Without letting him finish his sentence, Younger's lips find his again just as their joined release crashes over them for the last time, setting them both alight. The older man holds Younger through each shockwave, crying out until his throat aches.

With a broken sob, he collapses sideways onto the bed. Younger follows him, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face into the older man's chest.

They both remain there for a moment, soft sobs and whimpers of overstimulation muffled into hair and against slickened skin. They both know what this means; soon whatever spell set in motion would break, and Younger would be gone. So for now, they stay as they are, making pacts and whispering secrets for their ears alone.

Eventually, they both calm, their breathing evening out as the fire dies. Younger shudders, suddenly cold, and Elder pulls him close, cocooning them both in the duvet as best he can. Something seems to tickle him and he laughs softly, the sound muffled against damp skin.

'What's funny?' Elder chuckles, his lips brushing lightly against the younger man's temple.

'I was thinking…' Younger muses, eyes sparkling with mischief, ' people always tell me to go fuck myself; if only they knew.'

Elder laughs heartily, wrapping his arms around Younger's shoulders and pulling him close. 'Let that be our little secret, hm?' he breathes, unable to recall a time when he'd felt more at peace.

The younger man falls asleep quickly, his head resting in the hollow over Elder's heart, the gentle rhythm soothing him. Elder smiles sadly, wanting to stay like this forever, but knowing deep down that sleep would take the younger man from him.

And yet, he was glad. Secure in the knowledge that Younger would become the person he is now, his heart swells with bittersweet pride. Eventually, he loses the battle with sleep, eyelids fluttering closed as he presses a kiss to the crown of the younger man's head.

'Sleep well, cuore,' he murmurs softly into hair lightly fragranced with bergamot, 'you're still here; I am still here. You're not going anywhere. Prometto.'

Epilogue

Morning comes, and the moment Terzo opens his eyes, he knows. His arms lay empty, the other side of his bed bare and unbearably cold. Burying his face into the pillows, he inhales deeply, breath catching on a sob as he scents the ghost of citrus.

And yet, as he sits up, he somehow feels more refreshed than he should. His skin tingles, almost as if the younger man had sunk into his very soul as he slept, soothing him.

Carding shuddering hands into his hair, he feels a sense of calm pass over him, along with a realisation. The younger man wasn't gone. He always was, and would be forever, part of him, looking back from every mirror. Tears sting in Terzo's eyes as he levers himself up, aches softened by the memory of his love.

His eyes catch a piece of paper on the bedside table, tucked under the crystal bottle, and his heart squeezes. Unfolding it with shaking fingers, brimming tears spill over as he recognises his younger self's calligraphic writing:

My most beloved Salvatore,

Last night was a gift; one that I will never soon forget, and one I know you won't, either. Thank you for showing me that happiness is possible. That I am worthy of love and respect, just as I am.

I am always a dream away. Ti amerò per siempre.

S. xx