CAR 27

About ‘you,’ he says. There was no one who knew Dennis better than Dennis himself. As if he had read Dennis’s thoughts, Vittorio added his next words.

“There’s probably no man who knows your body as well as I do.”

Vittorio bent his fingers. He could feel the straight joints of his fingers inside the sensitive muscle. Dennis’s penis, pressed somewhere against Vittorio’s forearm, was taut. He was slowly reaching his limit.

Noticing this, Vittorio suddenly added another finger. The glistening entrance became tight once again. Dennis was almost out of his mind. His body swayed, following the movements of Vittorio’s hand.

Vittorio suddenly pressed down hard on his lower abdomen. Soon after, a weak ejaculation followed. His face, stained with shame, contrasted with the head of his penis, soaked in pleasure. Dennis Kahler covered his face with both hands.

“Please…”

“…”

“Stop, please stop.”

Despite his pleading, Vittorio tore off Dennis’s shirt. The buttons that popped off went rolling across the stage. A button fell into the gap between the curtain and the stage, causing Dennis’s heart to tremble violently.

The actual libertine, Vittorio, was nonchalantly licking Dennis’s chest. To Dennis, Vittorio, who was mindlessly biting at a chest that was completely flat without even a hint of roundness, was utterly incomprehensible.

Holding a reddish nipple in his mouth, he stared intently at Dennis’s face with wide eyes. Dennis was biting down on his own fist. Vittorio’s tongue circled his nipple persistently. For a man taking another man, it was a truly vulgar act.

Vittorio, who was twisting Dennis’s other nipple, was now rubbing his own member against Dennis’s groin. It was truly no different from Dennis’s forearm. Every time the veiny, massive penis brushed against his groin, the backs of his knees went weak.

He was thrusting or rubbing himself against every fold of Dennis’s skin. He endlessly enjoyed his games and taunts, rubbing himself against the backs of his knees, his groin, and finally, even Dennis’s chest.

If only he would just thrust in quickly and get it over with…

Dennis glared at him with bloodshot eyes. He utterly despised him for making him have such a thought. He wanted to dig his nails in and scratch his member off.

But if it was Vittorio Bonaparte, it was obvious he would only get more excited. He tried to respond like a block of wood as much as possible, but every touch was a stimulus to Dennis.

Unable to contain his anger, Dennis slammed his fist on the stage. After managing to suppress a sound that was close to a sob, he shot back faintly.

“Just hurry up and fuck me and get it over with, you bastard…”

“We’ll see.”

“You despicable bastard… You will surely fall to hell. Of the nine hells, to the one where the most filthy, evil, and poor arrive, ah…! It hurts, it hurts! Please…!”

“If I just thrust and move,”

“Ha, huff…”

“this moment will be over.”

“…”

“I’ve waited for so long… You should at least give me time to savor it.”

“Ah, hngh…”

“Your lower mouth really can’t keep up with the skills of your upper one…”

He had his member wedged between Dennis’s plump thighs. He was even holding both of his ankles. Whenever Vittorio’s penis and Dennis’s own rubbed against each other, Dennis slammed his hands on the stage floor until they turned white.

His vision became completely hazy. The dust motes flying about under the stage lights were distinct. He was about to go blind. His head was as hot as a volcano. The explicit sounds of friction made his lower abdomen boil slowly. His hips, lifted by him, tingled. His clueless rear hole had long since become damp and wet.

When the mission was over, Dennis was planning to take his guaranteed freedom and leave for his hometown immediately. He intended to take the commission fee he had not once spent and purchase a mansion in the east, on the estate where his family had once stayed. It was an old house, beautiful with white roses surrounding a low wall.

He would keep the staff to a minimum, occasionally write articles for the newspaper, and live as a bachelor for the rest of his life, but if he could afford it, maybe he could raise a large dog… A peaceful future he had vaguely imagined.

He would gasp for breath as if having a seizure whenever he saw a long wall, and he would not be able to drink even a little hot tea for fear it might be thrown at him. But a peace fulfilling enough to numb him to the scraps of his trauma would be waiting for Dennis.

But now, as he was being violated by a man like a nimble beast of prey, that future was turning its back on Dennis and gradually running away. Ah, just as he said, Dennis might never be able to kill Vittorio in his lifetime.

Now, with his two knees bent ridiculously by this man, Dennis was buried only in the fleeting moment. His entire body ached.

“You need to come to your senses.”

Vittorio’s fingertips tapped Dennis’s cheek. It was the same finger that had been prodding his rear hole. A moan resembling a scream flowed from Dennis’s half-open mouth. As if even that sight was delightful, Vittorio looked utterly content.

Vittorio pushed into Dennis. Something thick and tight squeezed and pressed its way into his rear. Having barely pushed just the tip in, Vittorio let out an overwhelmed sigh.

In contrast, Dennis was on the verge of fainting from a sensation he had never experienced in his life. It could not even dare to be compared to fingers. It would have been better to shove a hatchet handle in.

Vittorio, who had spread his legs to thrust, was crudely ramming himself in. Dennis reflexively covered his own mouth.

When the shrill scream was suppressed, Vittorio’s brow furrowed. He raised the hand that had once been pierced by a pen nib and struck Dennis’s cheek. Dennis’s head snapped to the side, and he truly let out a scream.

“Ah, ah, aaaack…!”

The corners of Dennis’s eyes grew damp. Vittorio had not even put half of himself in yet. He had no sensation in his lower body. It felt like three hatchet handles had been shoved inside him.

Dennis beat his own chest and writhed to survive. That this was a stage, that there might be someone on the other side of the curtain—none of it mattered anymore. Saliva dribbled from his half-open mouth. He flailed his upper body like a freshly caught fish and screamed, trying to get away from Vittorio.

As if annoyed by such a Dennis, Vittorio finally grabbed him by the throat. Dennis’s long neck was crushed in an instant.

“Commendable, and lovely…”

“Save me, save me…”

“Even admirable.”

“Huh, huff, ah…”

“It seems you haven’t let anyone in but me.”

His member was like a living serpent. His penis, with even the pubic hair shaved clean, made his lower body twist in an attempt to enter deeper.

This was not intercourse. It was a one-sided penetration.

He could not feel any arousal, only choked screams. It felt like his intestines would burst. Finally, Vittorio grabbed the wrists of Dennis, who was about to claw at his own bare skin, and shook his head.

“Don’t be a baby.”

Dennis’s once-damp rear had long since dried up from the pain. Apart from the fact that he could not feel a shred of pleasure, Vittorio had a very satisfied look on his face. Something—he could not tell if it was moisture from his hair or sweat—dripped from Vittorio’s hair onto Dennis’s lower abdomen. Even that cooled to a lukewarm temperature, so feverishly hot was Dennis’s entire body.

Dennis, with his head thrown all the way back, suddenly looked up at the ceiling. In the lighting booth in the loft, constructed to provide a clear view of the stage, someone was looking down at them.

The person, leaning their arms on the railing, whistled. Vittorio, seemingly not having heard, was still pushing himself in recklessly.

Shall, I, save, you.

He asked Dennis. Dennis nodded his head desperately. He shook it so violently that even Vittorio noticed something was wrong and looked at Dennis. Following Dennis’s gaze, Vittorio naturally looked up to the second floor of the stage.

The light fixture fell.