Dario’s point of view.
He's lying in the middle of the bed, fisting the sheets and looking at me with a needy look that asks me why I got out of bed, and then there's also an almost inaudible whimper that he makes and which begs me to go back to him, and that turns me on like nothing before, and my leaking c**k is the solid-as-a-rock proof. Pun intended.
“Why do you look so down, Aless?” I ask in a husky voice that hurts my throat in all the right ways, and he grips the sheets beneath him as if he's controlling himself, trying not to reach for me and pull me back to bed.
“I... I just... I want you…,” he trails off in an insecure voice which I hate and love at the same time, and avoids my gaze as his cheeks get rosy.
“First of all, don't you find it disrespectful not to look at me when
