Chapter 47

Do you know what happens when you have sex with an ex-boyfriend?

The indifferent face that had been making a mess of Dante’s insides suddenly started looking impossibly handsome. It had always been beautiful—striking and alluring—but once you factored in the astonishing stamina capable of keeping Dante trapped in bed all day while night and day traded places, Rhys seemed like an entirely different person. Dante could not help but wonder who on earth the quiet, inexperienced man he thought he knew all this time had actually been, and whether he was truly the same person who had driven him completely out of his mind last night.

On closer reflection, it had not been last night. Since Dante had seen the sun rise twice now, it was probably the night before last. No wonder he had woken up ravenous. He was so hungry his stomach physically ached, almost as if his gut were on the verge of going numb. Dante’s stomach possessed a terrifyingly efficient metabolism; if he left it empty like this, it felt as though it might start digesting his own organs. He really needed to eat something, and soon.

Yet even with that thought pressing at him, Dante could not bring himself to leave the bed. He could not tear his eyes away from the bright blond man sleeping peacefully beside him. The aftermath of the previous night was too overwhelming to describe any other way: they had simply rutted together like beasts in heat.

As if bewitched, Dante stared at the sunlight filtering through the white chiffon curtains, watching it fall across Rhys’s sleeping face. Carefully, he reached out. He lightly brushed the tip of Rhys’s lashes, which curved in a graceful, elegant line, before hurriedly drawing his hand back. After that, he traced the sharp profile in the air instead, holding back the burning urge to actually touch him. He did not want to wake him for no reason. The days when he had last seen Rhys sleeping beside him felt like the distant past, and he wanted to preserve this moment in his mind for as long as possible. Besides, even while Dante had been drifting in and out of consciousness, Rhys seemed to have stayed awake the entire time. It was better to let him rest.

Could he even describe the moments he had lost consciousness as sleep? No, it had been much closer to passing out.

Not even during his training at A-school before his enlistment had Dante ever felt this physically drained. Of course, he had to consider the more than ten years that had passed between then and now, but in the end, it still meant one thing: the sex with Rhys had been that incredible.

Ha, damn it. It was the best sex of my life. I only got to experience something this amazing now? I lost four whole years.

People always said there was no going back once you started feeling pleasure from behind, and Dante now felt that truth deep in his soul. Returning to a life before he had properly tasted Rhys was out of the question. Even before coming to Rome, he had made a complete mess of things because he could not accept a life without Rhys. Now that he had truly savored him here in Rome, he could give him up even less.

The events of the previous two days began flashing through Dante’s mind.

Right after he had stepped out of the shower, Rhys had gone wild without offering a word of explanation. After they had struggled and wrestled over each other, Dante finally realized it was all because he had mentioned meeting an Alpha. From that exact moment, the atmosphere had shifted entirely. Rhys, displaying an absurdly devastating ability to kiss, had driven Dante hard. As if laughing at Dante for ever thinking it was difficult to feel pleasure from behind alone, Rhys had spent nearly two days completely transforming his body’s responses.

Now, penetration alone sent an electrifying wave of pleasure straight up his spine. When Rhys tormented his prostate with obsessive, calculated precision, semen had leaked from him on its own. And when Rhys pierced him all the way into those deep, sensitive places Dante had always avoided, goosebumps broke out over his entire body and his back arched tight. As he lost his mind, getting fucked under a thick cloud of pleasure that filled him to the crown of his head, there were moments later on when he felt as if he had ruined himself from coming even though he hadn’t. Honestly, by then, he had not been in his right mind, so he could not be certain. He might have simply felt that way because he had already spilled so much earlier that there was nothing left to come out.

In any case, it had been truly incredible.

As if he had decided to test the physical limits of a Beta male body, Rhys fucked him, then fucked him again. When Dante lay limp with exhaustion, Rhys simply grabbed him by the ankle, dragged him back across the mattress, and fucked him again. He made Dante get on all fours like a dog, lifting only his hips to push inside him once more. When Dante no longer had the strength to keep his waist up, Rhys pinned him down from behind, entering him ruthlessly. Burying himself to the absolute root—as if he meant to shove his balls inside too—became the standard. When Dante whined in a way that was somehow both exaggerated and completely genuine, Rhys pressed his prostate with deadly precision and made his entire body convulse.

“I’m, I’m, ah, hah, going to, haa, hah, I came, Rhys, ah…! Feels good…!”

By the end, Dante had completely lost his reason, babbling nothing but incoherent cries. Remembering the sounds he had made last night, Dante felt a sharp wave of embarrassment after the fact. The pleasure Rhys had given him, so sharp it was almost violent, had been far too good, but he still had not adjusted to the sounds he made in the process.

Ha, damn it. Since they came out on their own, correcting them is going to be difficult. Should I practice moaning in a way that sounds cool and masculine? If I search the internet, surely something like that must exist.

Fortunately, from some hour that might have been morning or noon, his voice had finally given out, sparing him from making any more embarrassing noises. After that, he had only panted, barely able to take Rhys in, trembling as he felt the Alpha drive deep and press their bodies tight together. Had they really done it without resting even once? They really hadn’t. When Dante had begged him to please let them eat something first, the answer he received had been shocking.

“Is that so? I must not have fed you enough. Wait there.”

Rhys had caught Dante by the waist just as he tried to escape the bed, thrusting his cock straight back into him. The hole, already filled to the brim with semen, swallowed his length and spilled sticky white fluid in thick streams. Each time Rhys thrust, it leaked out wetly, soaking Dante’s thighs and the bedsheets. Rhys simply filled Dante’s belly with semen again, replacing everything that spilled out.

People said Alphas had a sex drive on an entirely different level, and that certainly seemed true.

Having already wiped Santino’s face and entire existence clean from his mind, Dante blinked as he recalled the single sentence Santino had left behind. The beautiful face sleeping peacefully beside him was definitely the Rhys Elliott Dante had spent so long watching, yet it was still difficult to believe that the designation composing him was not Beta, but Alpha.

What will you do if I deceived you?

Pretty one, you were an Alpha with a face like this?

When Rhys had looked at Mateo and called him an Omega, Dante had wondered whether it was difficult to distinguish designation by appearance alone. Even so, as a Beta, Dante found it difficult to look at Rhys’s face and associate it with the word Alpha. His delicate eyes, his thick, long lashes, his pink lips, and the fragile lines of his face looked, no matter how Dante viewed them, like a flower. If anything, he seemed far closer to the image people might prejudicially associate with an Omega.

In the end, unable to restrain the impulse, Dante reached out and touched Rhys’s face. When he rubbed Rhys’s cheek as lightly as he could, the texture brushing his fingertips felt absurdly good. Rhys’s skin, soft and fragile as flower petals, marked incredibly easily. Dante’s skin, on the other hand, was stubborn and tough enough that marks rarely remained unless he was bitten—like yesterday.

With one hand, he caressed Rhys’s cheek, while the other climbed to touch his own neck. Along the clear bite mark left on the right side of his nape, he could feel the distinct, indented punctures. The moment his fingers brushed them, the skin stung and throbbed, making it certain that the flesh had bruised and broken. He was a little worried about what it would look like in the mirror, but the longer he touched it, the better it felt.

This is a mark Rhys left. I hope it lasts a long time.

The mere fact that Rhys had left a physical trace on him gave Dante an enormous sense of satisfaction, and a soft smile rose to his lips. If it were Rhys, Dante would not even mind being scarred. Was that a little strange? Perhaps. But because the possibility of getting back together had grown so dramatically, the desire rose within him entirely naturally.

The more he touched the mark on his neck, the more he liked it. He was unconsciously rubbing the bruised skin when he suddenly felt the heavy weight of a gaze. He snapped his head up and met a pair of blue-gray eyes.

Rhys, his eyes returned to the clear, greenish-blue of Dante’s memory, was staring directly at Dante’s hand on his neck. Seeing the tousled blond hair of Rhys just waking up, Dante found the sight so lovable that he let out a low laugh. Then, lying on his side with his chin propped in one hand, he greeted Rhys by lightly tapping his cheek with his free hand—just as he used to do as a matter of daily habit before they broke up.

“Hello, pretty flower. Good morning.”