Taste of Iron

Thirty One: First Time

Thirty One: First Time

Atlas splashed water on his face as he stared up to look at himself in the mirror.

As much as he hated to do it, he had to put things on hold for a few minutes to take care of... an important aspect first. Emil understood what Atlas meant, and was patiently waiting in the bedroom for the chef.

Atlas gripped the doorknob, feeling nervous. It had been a while since he last slept with somebody. He wasn't the type to have one night stands, and he broke up with his ex a little over a year ago. Even then, he had never felt as strongly for any of his past boyfriends as he did for Emil.

Atlas's breath hitched as his gaze fell on Emil, who was standing at the edge of the bed with his shirt and pants already off. The chef bit his lower lip, his eyes taking in the man's well defined body that was decorated with ink. Atlas couldn't move, he felt frozen. So Emil took it upon himself to walk up to the other.

Emil kept a hand on Atlas's cheek, pressing a tender kiss against his lips before pulling back. He traced his finger down Atlas's neck and collarbone, and then began unbuttoning his shirt. Atlas shrugged the piece of clothing off his shoulder, letting it fall onto the floor— their eyes never leaving each other's.

"Eres el hombre más guapo que jamás haya visto," Emil whispered, his voice full of sincerity. If anybody else had said so, then Atlas would've dismissed it as the person trying to get into his pants. But with Emil... Atlas couldn't help but believe that he meant each and every word.

"And I'm all yours tonight," Atlas said. Emil smiled, his gaze softening as he intertwined his fingers with the chef's.

"I hope not just tonight," Emil paused. "But every night for the rest of my life."

"That's going to depend on how good you are," Atlas teased, the corner of his lips rising in a sly smirk. Emil mirrored the expression, as he kept his palm at the back of Atlas's neck to pull him closer. His grip was tough, and the chef couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips.

"I can tell you..." Emil whispered in Atlas's ear. "Or I can show you."

"Show me."

Emil didn't waste a second in connecting their lips. Gone was the gentleness of his prior kisses as they made out with a renewed sense of urgency and hunger. Emil's hands worked to unbuckle Atlas's belt, before pulling down his jeans. Atlas kicked off the denim, leaving both of them just in their briefs.

Atlas whimpered in the kiss as Emil slapped his ass, before grabbing onto the cheeks and pulling Atlas towards him. The chef got the hint as he wrapped his legs around the other man's waist, and the gangster picked him effortlessly.

Emil carried Atlas to the bed, laying him down gently before getting into between his legs to resume the kiss. Their hands roamed around his one another's body, desperately trying to touch every part.

"I'm not going to leave a single inch of your body unkissed," Emil said, his teeth grazing Atlas's neck as he licked down till his shoulder blades. His hands were still kneading the blue-haired man's ass, and Atlas entangled his fingers in Emil's hair, pulling at the strands as the crime boss left marks all over.

Atlas had never felt so wanted in his life. And neither had he ever wanted somebody this bad. This feeling was so foreign. The desire to give himself completely to another person. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time, and Atlas was craving for more.

Atlas flipped them over, not wanting to be just a passive recipient. Emil seemed caught off guard by the sudden shift, but he didn't mind as the chef straddled him. Their erections were rubbing together, only two thin layers of clothing separating their bare flesh from touching.