Today Actavio was performing worse than usual. Of course he was still winning his matches, otherwise he’d have lost his championship title, but he was taking more blows and didn’t seem to have his focus all there. In the past, Sylas would be worried about the well-being of his crush. Now? All he could think about and fawn over was how he looked under those clothes with all those injuries and whether Actavio’s low performance was his doing.

With a bubbly smile, Sylas continues to watch the ongoing match. Lorriane peers over, concern blatantly worn on his visage.

“Syyyllaaasss…”

“Yea?” He happily responded without taking his eyes away from Actavio.

“What are you plaaanniiing? You have that look you get when you’re about to do something highly illegal.”

“I do?” Sarcastically he responds and stands, thoroughly stretching before making his way towards the exit.

“Whaaat alreadyy? The match isn’t even over where are you gooing!”

Sylas grins widely.

“To do something illegal.”

----------------------------------------

From when Actavio was previously ill, Sylas had an idea of where his car was usually parked and unsurprisingly it was in the same spot so he plopped himself on the hood, lit a cigarette, and waited.

His new strategy was to impose on his love as much as possible. What would he do if he insisted and pestered him as much as possible? Before Sylas was being considerate, and that clearly wasn’t working. If he did the opposite and didn’t care, then what? He already had one foot in the door in that regard with his evening visit the other day, and he was eager to slide the other in.

It took about another half hour before Actavio’s matches concluded and he subsequently made his way to the car. The instant Actavio’s eyes locked with Sylas’s, his once exhausted eyes flared up and into a glare.

“Get off. And stop smoking.”

“Or what?” Sylas tapped the embers with a mischievous smirk.

Actavio rolls his eyes and groans, “Sylas, I’m not in the mood. Get off my car. Don’t make me ask you again.”

“You didn’t do too hot today.

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Oh so it is because of me. Hah! I can’t say I’ll be more gentle next time because that’d be a lie.”

The self-induced chuckle manages to get another squint out of the mafia boss, confirming the theory even more.

“At the least put out your cigarette.”

“Why? You seemed to like the taste last time.”

He grits his teeth, becoming more aggravated by the second. Instead of trying to further reason with the impossible delinquent, he tries to pry the cigarette out of his hands but misses on both attempts.

“Oh come on, Actavio. I know you’re faster than that, you can’t be that tired.”

Actavio’s glare deepens. He aggressively flings his hand and fails to grasp the cigarette for a third time. In retaliation, Sylas seizes Actavio by his jacket’s zipper, donning a shit-eating grin against his cold, hateful leer.

Before he can wrestle free, he swiftly pecks Actavio’s lips through his face mask, then lets the mob boss shove him away and break free with a mixture of fluster and frustration in his hazel-blue eyes.

He holds a hand over his lips as if to protect them, then he seemingly gives up and enters the car anyway. Simultaneously, Sylas hops off and enters the passenger seat and for a third time Actavio groans in utter exasperation.

“Sylas, what the fuck do you want?”

“Oh don’t worry about me.” He tosses the cigarette out the window. “You can just drive. Pretend I’m not even here~.”

At this point, Actavio was beyond too exhausted to even bother with Sylas any longer, so ignoring him was exactly what he did.

It only took a quarter of the extensive car ride before he became bored out of his mind waiting for his crush to have some form of conversation or interaction with him. Did he really not care about what happened last night? Or was he really too tired to care? Whatever it was, Sylas was dead set on reminding Actavio that he’d never relent on trying to gain his attention and affection.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Traffic was mild and it gave him an idea.

In the midst of the drive, Sylas unbuckled his seatbelt and immediately it caught Actavio’s attention.

“Sit down.”

The same as before, Sylas ignored the directive and did as he pleased. He got up on his seat and knelt over to Actavio’s side of the car, head beneath his arms.

“What are you doing–!?”

“Entertaining myself since you won’t talk to me.” Sylas whined as he fiddled with Actavio’s joggers, desperately manhandling them until he got a proper hold on his private to be able to unveil it.

“Stop-!”

In an effort to protest he momentarily releases his hold of the wheel and the car swerves. Quickly he regrabs it, stuck in a conflict between ceasing the delinquent and driving properly.

“Careful there sweetheart. Eyes on the road remember?” He pecks his shaft to further taunt him.

Forced to pick his poison, Actavio reluctantly relents. It’s undeniably more important for him to at least try to focus on driving rather than stopping Sylas. Pulling over was an option, but if he was too tired to stop him from getting in the car in the first place Actavio knew he’d be even more unwilling to drag him out of the car after the fact, and he had a feeling that with the annoyingly playful mood the delinquent was in that he was purposefully set on doing this only while he was driving.

Ever since he found out about Actavio’s identity as the champion Sylas had imagined pleasuring him after his matches, and it was exactly as he dreamt. A faint yet still discernible smell of sweat was glued to his body, including his crotch, and it was absolutely delightful. He couldn’t wait to see how it tasted.

Slowly, he worked Actavio’s member. His hands slightly glided from the few lingering drops of moisture. Sylas wanted it at a full erection before orally enveloping it, but he still couldn’t help giving his crush a few thorough laps mixed in with the gradual pumps. It extended nearly to the base then leisurely made its way higher until it reached the head. After diligently sliding his tongue against every curve he would tease his tip with a kiss that threatened entry only for him to remove his lips and continue again with his hands.

Actavio’s nails etched into the stitches of the leather steering wheel as he tried his best to disregard the blaring distraction. Thankfully, they weren’t driving all that fast so the threat of crashing wasn’t too high but it still loomed, especially for the orderly and typically composed mafia boss.

So, he tried his hand at further teasing Actavio, “You ever consider getting a bigger car?”

“Sylas–.” The tone was reprimanding; he saw through him early on this time around.

Giggling to himself, Sylas pressed his hands harder against the length. By now it was already brought to a shamefully stiff rise. “I’m fucking with you.”

“I-know that.”

Finally satisfied with the rigidity Sylas plopped a majority of his dick inside in one fell motion, causing Actavio to flinch.

“Kh–..!” His foot stuttered on the gas as he gasped. Had the traffic been more congested it would’ve resulted in an accident and just the thought alone of having to deal with that in the middle of an erection was frightening.

Sylas engorged Actavio’s cock until it hit the back of his throat and even then he pushed past his oral limits. His gag-reflexes stepped aside to welcome the heat as it entered. The taste of Actavio post-exercise was everything he dreamed of and more: a delicate, lightly piquant flavor. He had tasted this once before, when Actavio was ill and unconscious, but somehow knowing that this was due to his fights rather than a sick fever made it all the more thrilling to wolf down.

Wanting to relish the taste for as long as possible, he maintained the same steady pace as he oscillated his mouth. When his hair fell with him, he slipped it behind his ear. Now would be a great time to use that neglected hair tie he kept on his person, but he was too absorbed with his current task to even remember to do so.

In time Actavio only kept one wavered hand on the wheel while the other moved down to Sylas and his emerald locks—Just as he always fantasized. That alone was enough to give his flaccid private a slight hard-on.

Actavio’s clasp of the strands bounced between a tight constriction and a loose weave in chime with Sylas’s movements; the more aggressively he performed the tighter he clenched and vice versa. He didn’t suck too heavily, only doing so when he focused his lips and tongue on the head. Otherwise Sylas swallowed the shaft whole, running his tongue in a firm and tender press along the length as he bobbed.

“Fucking-stop–!” Actavio’s defiance left naturally.

The closer he became to his end, the more the vehicle rattled in mistakes. Turning the wheel too little or too much or fumbling his grasp on it altogether while his foot was rendered confused as it tried to remember how much pressure to apply, resulting in more and more near misses and far too many for his liking.

A fountain of clear streams flowed and soiled his sweat pants though Sylas tried his best to imbibe as much of it as possible before it could reach the fabric; he didn’t want to waste anything of Actavio’s after all. His hold of Sylas’s strands now remained firm as he bit back brief exhales of unwilling pleasure and gratification. If it was up to him, none of this would’ve occurred in the first place. But, it wasn’t his choice. And if Sylas knew this was all it took to be with Actavio he would’ve been pushy and unaccommodating long ago.

After nearly tugging Sylas’s hair enough for it to sting, Actavio let a final breath escape him as he climaxed into his mouth without a warning. Hence, as much as he would rather not admit, Sylas almost choked on the sudden spurt but he downed it through hacks regardless.

Reflexively Actavio slammed on the brakes and the car behind them thundered their horn in outrage, exiting the lane in a rush and flipping them off as they drove past though neither Sylas nor Actavio noticed.

Actavio was already exasperated beyond belief and now he especially had no desire nor energy to drive. Pulling over was incredibly tempting now, but if he did he had an inclination that he wouldn’t be able to push himself to continue on and letting Sylas drive was out of the question after his current careless display.

Like a child done with their toy, Sylas wiped his mouth then tucked Actavio’s dick back into his pants before lying on his lap despite all the uncomfortability and cramped nature of the sedan.

Still out of breath, Actavio’s speech came out in fractions, “Get-..Back..In your seat.”

“Nah.” He snuggled further with an elated smile.

Sighing in both vexation and fatigue, Actavio finally let Sylas be, knowing that lecturing him any more is pointless.