Biting savagely at Ezio's ear, Federico rammed into the younger man's frame in a manner that left no room for argument, their father's desk shifting and vulnerable to his wild rhythm—thrust again, push again, pull again, and he marks the secret place under the left side of his jaw to possessive determination, sans sanity; he couldn't think at all: no, not like this, not with the other groaning in delirious pleasure while he continued to fuck him on top of the infatuated artist's letters, wanting nothing more than to prove to his stubborn brother that only he could do something like this, that he would have this entire display in front of that damned maestro if he had to, that solely he can make him scream his name and no other's: Never the name of that bastardo with less than innocent intentions.
"Can he do this?" he roughly growled, snapping his hips before he grabbed hold of Ezio's hair and yanked, exposing the expanse of tan flesh. "Can he do all of what I'm doing to you?" Another harsh pound. "To fuck you raw? Can he do this?"
When Ezio didn't answer, incapable of even forming anything other than husky moans, Federico scraped his teeth none too gently against his collarbone and narrowed his eyes. "Answer me, fratello; how does it feel, to take in every inch of my cock, all on top of the idiota's gifts, hm?" Great brazenness radiated off of him through his scorching body heat. "Speak: now."
Again, senseless ramblings.
The older male had enough.
One primal kiss, twenty drives into tight heat, post carnal awareness, and the aggressive being began to fist the weeping length without mercy, more than willing to drill his principles into Ezio's head, in more ways than one. "No, I didn't think so; I didn't fucking think so." He audaciously jerked brown locks backwards so that he could make the point clear for the clouded orbs. "That messer can write you as many poems as he likes, give you as many stupid paintings as he likes, smile childishly as he likes, but—" A smoldering gaze. "that man will never know how to do this to you, to give all of it, the way you like it." His tempo started to incomprehensibly accelerate, forcing stunned eyes to widen while he drove in and out, faster and faster, harder and harder, stealing the entirety of exposure that was laid at his feet.
"He'll never make you hunger, not like I do."
And he proved that more than anyone.