15. The Calm and the Storm

CHAPTER 15

THE CALM AND THE STORM

The New York skyline glittered like a jewel box against the inky night as Rocco gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. After weeks of hospital visits and tense negotiations with his father, they were finally home. The city thrummed with its usual frenetic energy, but up here, high above the chaos, a rare sense of peace settled over him.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and Rocco leaned back into Victor's solid warmth. He breathed in the familiar scent of sandalwood and gunpowder, letting it soothe the lingering tension from the past few weeks.

"Penny for your thoughts, baby boy?" Victor's voice was a low rumble against Rocco's ear.

Rocco shivered at the pet name, heat pooling low in his belly. "Just thinking about how much has changed," he murmured. "A few months ago, I was a fucking mess. And now..."

Victor's grip tightened possessively. "And now you're mine," he growled. "My good boy."

The praise sent a thrill through Rocco. He turned in Victor's arms, tilting his face up for a kiss. "Am I though?" he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Maybe I need a reminder of just how good I can be for you, Daddy."

Victor's eyes darkened with lust. "Careful, brat," he warned, one large hand coming up to grip Rocco's jaw. "You might get more than you bargained for."

Rocco grinned, pressing his body flush against Victor's. "Promise?"

With a low growl, Victor claimed Rocco's mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue swept inside, tasting of whiskey and desire. Rocco melted into it, giving as good as he got.

When they finally broke apart, both panting, Rocco's lips felt deliciously swollen. "Fuck," he breathed. "I'll never get tired of that."

Victor smirked, his thumb tracing Rocco's bottom lip. "Good. Because I plan on kissing you like that for a very long time, baby."

The tender moment was interrupted by the buzz of Victor's phone. He pulled it out with a frown, his expression darkening as he read the message.

"What is it?" Rocco asked, anxiety creeping in.

Victor's jaw clenched. "Trouble brewing on the docks. Looks like the remnants of Bianchi's crew are making another play for our territory."

Rocco's heart sank. Their brief respite was over, reality intruding once more. He squared his shoulders, pushing down the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. "What do we do?"

Victor's eyes gleamed with pride. "That's my boy," he murmured. "Always ready for a fight." He pressed a quick kiss to Rocco's forehead. "First, we gather intel. Then we plan our counterattack."

As Victor made calls, barking orders to their lieutenants, Rocco paced the living room. His mind raced with possibilities, strategies he'd learned over the past months bubbling to the surface.

"We should hit them where it hurts," he said when Victor hung up. "Their money laundering operation through that chain of laundromats. If we can disrupt that, it'll cripple their cash flow."

Victor's eyebrows rose, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Look at you, strategizing like a proper don." He pulled Rocco close, nuzzling into his hair. "I'm so fucking proud of you, baby boy."

Rocco preened under the praise, warmth blooming in his chest. But the bratty part of him couldn't resist pushing just a little further. "Yeah? Maybe you should show me just how proud you are, Daddy."

Victor's eyes darkened with lust. "Careful what you wish for, brat," he growled. "You might not be able to sit comfortably for our strategy meeting tomorrow."

Rocco grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "Promise?"

With a low growl, Victor hoisted Rocco over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Rocco yelped, laughing as Victor smacked his ass and carried him towards the bedroom.

"Such a mouthy little thing," Victor rumbled, tossing Rocco onto the massive bed. "I think it's time Daddy taught you a lesson in respect."

Rocco sprawled on the silk sheets, looking up at Victor through his lashes. "Oh no," he said with mock horror. "Whatever will you do to me, Daddy?"

Victor's grin was pure predator as he stalked towards the bed, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. "Oh, I've got a few ideas, baby boy. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging so pretty for me."

Heat pooled in Rocco's groin, his cock hardening in anticipation. This was what he craved—Victor's firm hand, his unwavering control. It grounded Rocco in a way nothing else could, quieting the chaos in his mind.

Victor stripped efficiently, his muscled body a work of art in the dim light. Scars marred his olive skin, including the fresh, puckered line from the gunshot wound that had nearly taken him away. Rocco's mouth watered at the sight of Victor's impressive cock, already half-hard and thickening by the second.

"Eyes up here, baby," Victor commanded, snapping his fingers. "What's your safeword?"

"Red," Rocco replied automatically.

Victor nodded in approval. "Good boy. Now strip for me. Slowly."

Rocco obeyed, taking his time as he peeled off his clothes. He made a show of it, arching his back as he pulled his shirt over his head, shimmying his hips as he slid his jeans down his legs. By the time he was naked, Victor's eyes were dark with hunger.

"On your hands and knees," Victor ordered. "Ass up, face down."

Rocco scrambled to comply, presenting himself for Victor's inspection. He felt exposed, vulnerable, his hole clenching around nothing as cool air hit his heated skin.

The first smack of Victor's hand against his ass made Rocco gasp. It was followed by another, and another, until his cheeks were stinging and warm.

"Count," Victor growled.

"O-one," Rocco stammered. "Two. Three. Four..."

By the tenth strike, Rocco was a writhing mess, cock leaking steadily onto the sheets below. His ass felt like it was on fire, pleasure and pain blurring into exquisite sensation.

"Please," he whimpered. "Please, Daddy, I need..."

Victor's large hand smoothed over Rocco's reddened flesh. "What do you need, baby boy? Use your words."

"You," Rocco gasped. "Need you inside me, splitting me open. Please, Daddy, I'll be so good..."

Victor chuckled darkly. "Oh, I know you will be. My perfect little cockslut."

The praise sent a shiver down Rocco's spine. He heard the snap of a bottle cap, then the cool slide of lube against his hole. Victor worked him open with brutal efficiency, thick fingers stretching and probing until Rocco was a babbling mess.

"Daddy, please," he begged. "I'm ready, I swear, just fuck me already!"

Victor withdrew his fingers, leaving Rocco clenching around nothing. "So impatient," he tsked. "Maybe I should leave you like this, desperate and aching. Teach you a lesson in patience."

Rocco whined, pushing his hips back. "No, please, I'll be good. I promise. Just need you so bad, Daddy."

"Shh, I've got you, baby." Victor lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against Rocco's fluttering hole. "Gonna give you what you need."

He pushed in slowly, inexorably, until he was fully seated. Rocco keened at the stretch, the burning fullness exactly what he craved.

Victor set a punishing pace, each thrust nailing Rocco's prostate with unerring accuracy. The room filled with the obscene slap of skin on skin, mingled with Rocco's breathless moans and Victor's guttural grunts.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," Victor growled. "So tight for me, like your greedy little hole was made for my cock."

Rocco could only whimper in response, lost in the overwhelming sensations. He felt owned, claimed in the most primal way.

Victor set a punishing pace, each thrust nailing Rocco's prostate with unerring accuracy. The room filled with the obscene slap of skin on skin, mingled with Rocco's breathless moans and Victor's guttural grunts.

"Touch yourself," Victor commanded. "Want to feel you come on my cock."

Rocco reached between his legs, wrapping a hand around his aching length. It only took a few strokes before he was coming with a broken cry, spilling hot and messy over his fist.

The clench of his muscles pushed Victor over the edge. With a roar, he slammed home one final time, emptying himself deep inside Rocco's quivering body.

For a long moment, they stayed locked together, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Then Victor carefully pulled out, gathering Rocco into his arms and peppering his face with tender kisses.

"My good boy," he murmured. "You did so well for Daddy. So perfect, taking my cock like you were made for it."

Rocco preened under the praise, nuzzling into Victor's chest. "Love you, Daddy," he mumbled, his voice small and vulnerable.

Victor's arms tightened around him protectively. "I love you too, baby boy. So much. You're everything to me, you know that?"

Rocco nodded, warmth blooming in his chest at the words. Victor pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then gently disentangled himself.

"Stay here," he said softly. "Daddy's going to get you cleaned up."

He returned moments later with a warm, damp cloth. With infinite tenderness, he wiped Rocco clean, murmuring words of praise and affection the entire time.

"Such a good boy for me," Victor said, his voice full of pride. "So brave and strong. You've come so far, baby. I'm so proud of you."

Rocco basked in the attention, feeling small and cherished. When Victor was finished, he tossed the cloth aside and gathered Rocco back into his arms.

"How are you feeling, little one?" he asked, running his fingers through Rocco's tousled curls.

"Mmm, good," Rocco mumbled, burrowing deeper into Victor's warmth. "Floaty."

Victor chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "That's good, baby. You're floating nice and high for Daddy. Just relax and let me take care of you."

He reached for a bottle of water on the nightstand, helping Rocco take small sips. Then he grabbed a protein bar, breaking off little pieces and feeding them to Rocco by hand.

"That's it," Victor praised as Rocco obediently ate. "Such a good boy, taking care of yourself for me."

As the afterglow faded, Rocco slowly came back to himself. He blinked up at Victor, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything."

Victor's expression softened, his eyes full of tenderness. "You never have to thank me for this, baby. Taking care of you is my privilege, my joy."

They lay together in comfortable silence, trading soft kisses and gentle caresses. But as the night wore on, reality began to creep back in.

"We should probably start planning for tomorrow," Rocco said reluctantly. "Figure out how we're going to handle this new threat."

Victor sighed, pressing a kiss to Rocco's forehead. "You're right. But for now, let's just enjoy this moment. The calm before the storm."

Rocco nodded, snuggling closer. "Together?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

"Always," Victor promised fiercely. "Whatever comes next, we face it together. You and me against the world, baby boy."

As they drifted off to sleep, tangled in each other's arms, Rocco felt a sense of peace settle over him. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new dangers. But with Victor by his side, he knew they could weather any storm.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, a deceptive calm masking the tension that thrummed through the air. Rocco and Victor moved through their morning routine with practiced efficiency, stealing kisses and touches as they prepared for the day ahead.

As they sat at the kitchen island, poring over maps and intel reports, Rocco couldn't shake the feeling that something big was looming on the horizon. A storm gathering strength, ready to break at any moment.

"We need to be prepared for anything," Victor said, his voice grim. "Bianchi's crew might be down, but they're not out. And there are always new players looking to make a move."

Rocco nodded, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "What about reaching out to the Moretti family? They've been neutral so far, but with the right incentive..."

Victor's eyebrows rose, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "Look at you, thinking like a true strategist. I like it, baby boy. It's worth a shot."

As they continued to plan, the weight of responsibility settled heavily on Rocco's shoulders. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, he felt a sense of purpose. This was what he was meant for, what Victor had been preparing him for all along.

Just as they were wrapping up, Rocco's phone buzzed with an incoming text. His blood ran cold as he read the message.

"Fuck," he cursed, his face pale. "It's my father. He wants to meet. Now."

Victor's expression hardened, his body coiling with tension. "I'm coming with you," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rocco nodded gratefully, drawing strength from Victor's unwavering support. As they made their way to Giovanni's office, Rocco's mind raced with possibilities. Was this about their relationship? The family business? Or something even more sinister?

Whatever it was, Rocco knew one thing for certain. With Victor by his side, he could face anything. Together, they were unstoppable.

The storm was coming. But they were ready for it.