Ezra guided Luca onto the couch like he was made of silk and submission.
His touch was firm, sure—nothing hesitant or romantic. He parted Luca's thighs with a nudge of the knee and ran his hand up the soft inside flesh with reverence and possession.
"I've waited so long to have you like this."
His voice was low, breath curling at Luca's ear.
"Let me teach you how to give back."
Luca didn't respond—but he didn't resist.
Ezra pulled his blouse off fully now, letting it hang from one arm for a moment before tugging it away. The skirt came next. He didn't ask. Didn't fumble. Just slid it down with steady hands, watching how Luca's body shifted to accommodate.
When he peeled away the last of what Luca wore, he exhaled like he was staring at something holy. Something owed.
"So pretty like this... soft, emptied out, just waiting for someone to fill you."
Luca's chest rose and fell. His thighs tensed, then relaxed. His lips parted slightly—but still no words came. He was trembling.
Ezra leaned down and kissed him—slow and open, tongue sliding with heat and promise. One hand gripped Luca's thigh, pulling him wider, while the other slid up the curve of his side and over his chest, fingers brushing one nipple before dragging down again, possessive and smooth.
He pressed his forehead to Luca's as he lined up between his legs, his voice breathy and thick.
"Breathe, baby. I want to feel every inch of this body give way."
Luca whimpered—not a word, just breath turned inside out.
Ezra pushed in slowly, deeply, not all at once but with growing hunger. He watched Luca's face the whole time—watched the flush rise, the eyes flutter, the small gasp that escaped his throat like a confession he hadn't meant to give.
Ezra groaned.
"God, you're tight... like no one's ever taught you how to do this right."
He rocked into him with building rhythm, controlling Luca's hips with firm hands. He didn't pound him—not yet. He wanted to feel it, stretch it, mold it. He pulled nearly all the way out before sliding back in slow and deep, dragging a sound from Luca's throat that made his own eyes darken.
"That's it," Ezra whispered. "That's how you give. That's how you make someone want to stay."
Luca didn't speak.
He only arched.
Ezra pulled out, flipped him gently onto his stomach, and raised his hips with two firm hands. He spanked him once—loud enough to echo—but not hard. Just enough to make him feel it.
"That's for forgetting who looked at you first."
He entered him again from behind, this time deeper, rougher. His grip bruised. His rhythm sharpened. But his voice remained almost gentle—almost sweet.
"You were always going to be mine too... even if you didn't know it."
He kept taking him until Luca wasn't trembling anymore—he was shaking. His hands clawed the couch cushions. His breath hitched. His body collapsed further with every thrust. Ezra smirked deviously as he dove inside him now, digging him out, pulling his hair, smacking his ass, taking control, not so nicely now. "Fuck... Miiiine!!" Ezra growled.
By the time Ezra was done, they were both damp with sweat and soundless except for their breath.
Ezra leaned over him, chest pressed to Luca's back, and whispered against the nape of his neck:
"That's what friends are for."