Title: Grazie

Rating: M

Pairing: Doctor/Prowler (Malfatto/Il Lupo)

Description: Those nights alone were usually interrupted by the needs of a bleeding Wolf. But Malfatto didn't mind at all. He would service all of Il Lupo's needs, if he could.

Dottore – Doctor

Dio – God

Cazzo – Fuck

Bastardi – Bastard

Amore - Love

The Doctor was thankful for that man's reckless lifestyle.

He always haunted the darkest alleys, crouched in wait, stalked the largest prey and managed to escape with his life and pride intact and his flesh not.

He would come at all hours without embarrassment or remorse for often waking the Dottore. He was Fiora and Baltasar's pet project, after all. There should be no problem if he wanted medical help. The perfectly taught "Assassin" that never could quite make a clean kill. The one that would show up, unannounced, hands and chest stained and always with some gaping cut or searing burn that needed his attention immediately.

Il Lupo.

When slouched over in his darkened bedroom, Malfatto often said the name to himself, conjuring up images of the roguish Prowler that send sparks of electric lust coursing through his veins, right down to those that wrapped around his "needle."

Just like now, on this all too unquiet night where the unmasked Doctor found himself once again imagining the wild, reckless man he held such strong, hidden affection for.

The man had no name and the Dottore never bothered to ask why not. Their first meeting was brief and under his eerie, bird-like mask he looked perfectly uninterested when Fiora brought him to his little office, telling him (not asking, as the bold little tart has a tendency to do) that he would service Il Lupo's medical needs from that point on.

He was grateful for the dark glass that blocked the two from seeing the curiosity and amusement in his eyes, else the Courtesan would make one of her sly comments, and Lupo would never have that relaxed, comfortable attitude of undressing before the Dottore.

Malfatto chuckles to himself an manages a warm smile. He had so many things to be thankful for, perhaps he should start praying to the Dio he so frequently called out to in his private moments, locked away among his vials of glowing green poison, gloved hand stroking his needle and fantasizing about –Dio!... Il Lupo.

Il Lupo. The slim yet muscular man with sharp, hidden eyes always dressed in something torn because he only ever came to Malfatto after a kill. And the Doctor loved it. The way he'd swoop in and push open the door with a strange kind of care, despite obviously interrupting the Doctor's sleep, or meal, or research or –thankfully, not yet- time "alone". He would grunt lowly, an animal sound, and in the dank light of the dirty candle Malfatto could see the clear sheen of sweat on his brow, hood already swept off to reveal his dark, matted hair, pulled back and secured at the base of his neck in a ponytail. A "wolftail", Malfatto would smirk under his mask as he would stand and guide Lupo to a cot to lie on.

It was a routine, but by no means boring or relaxed, and Malfatto again counts his blessings and all the things he's thankful for. They all seemed to relate back to the reckless, dangerous "assassin" he admired and lusted for and just so happened to be—


Just so happened to be pushing open the wooden door of Malfatto's home at that moment.

In a slight panic, the Dottore slips his mask back on and uses as rag to mop up his spilled seed from the bed sheet before stuffing his worn needle back into his trousers and donning his heavy black gear. He looks professional and calm as he turns to see Il Lupo approach him.

"Again, mn? You'll be nothing but scars if you keep this up." The masked man murmurs lowly as he walks to greet Lupo. He pauses with obvious curiosity that no mask could hide.

The Prowler had removed his hood, but showed no signs of distress. For once, all clothing and skin seemed to be held together and free of blood, his or an unlucky enemy of Cesare's. Wordlessly, Lupo stalks towards Malfatto, eyes hungry, and for once the Dottore sees the man for the wild Wolf he truly is inside.

Or perhaps not.

His groin pressing against the fully-covered Dottore, Lupo whispers huskily into his ear with a low whine.


He whimpers and growls so forcefully Malfatto thinks he's dreaming again until his gloved hand is purposefully filled with the Prowler's hidden blade, already uncovered from the man's trousers.

"Dio, please.." A little softer, Malfatto hears the other man beg with the sweetest wild voice that had only ever before filled his fantasies. The Dottore glares down at the smaller man, unable to let deep curiosity and shock hold back his growing smirk.

He is more than happy to oblige because that look of lust filling Lupo's eyes is making the Dottore's own needle harden under his heavy coat. Slowly, teasingly, and to the pleased surprise of the Prowler, Malfatto strokes his gloved hand from tip to base of the blade, earning him a low hiss from his needy patient.

"Please…" He calls out again, hands gripping the chair behind him to keep his knees from letting his burning body down. Malfatto wraps his free arm around Lupo's waist, holding him up, holding him close as his hand works and pleasures the man's throbbing need with increasing speed.

It's mere minutes before Lupo's uncovered head tilts back and his fingers clench tightly, his greedy calls resonating with no shyness or shame until finally the Dottore's skill sends him over the edge into orgasm, ribbons of his seed coating the glove of the now chuckling and lustful Doctor.

Still hazy and not quite ready to speak yet, Lupo watches with a deep blush as Malfatto removes his mask carefully, letting his lips and tongue escape to effectively clean the bitter seed from his glove.

"Ahh, not a wound but still a medical issue, I'd say…" The Dottore finally speaks, bemused as he glares down at the pleasured Prowler now collapsed in the chair.

"D-Dio… Malfatto…" Whether it was a thank you or a confession that was to come next, Malfatto didn't bother to find out. His secret object of affection's expression was too perfect to waste. Swiftly, his lips capture Lupo's own and his tongue invades the warm cave before the other man can protest. Not that he was likely too, either way. The near empty room is filled with hungered groans and soft sighs as the two nip and bite and lick at each other's lips. Malfatto grows bolder and parts the kiss, sinking down to leave a sharp red bite on the man's neck before letting his tongue glide over it slowly.

"M-Malfatto…!" Lupo protests with a weak whine, but the Dottore is nowhere near finished with his lust, or his, perhaps, future amore. In a swift movement, Malfatto takes Lupo into his arms and begins to carry his all-to-willing, but squirming partner into the small bedroom.

"Wait, you bastardi!" He tries again to get the man to listen, but is silenced by another kiss along with a rare, gentle grin as he is placed on the darkly colored sheets.

"Why wait?" The Dottore begins with a hushed growl as he lets his gloved fingers pull apart his overcoat.

"You did not wait for me, amore. And I believe you have a job yourself to complete. You were the cause, after all." Malfatto lets his trousers fall to reveal his throbbing needle, hard and lustful from Lupo's actions. He approaches once more, the predator this time, and lets a hand rub up and down the other man's toned chest as he finally submits himself to the Dottore's desires.

"We can talk after… I hope. You may become too hoarse from screaming, ah?"

Indeed, Malfatto was very thankful for that reckless, bold and daring man. It was always the reckless ones that would eventually find themselves in danger, inescapable until they submit to it fully.

Though, he was sure, from the sounds of Lupo's lustful begging that filled the apartment that entire night, the Prowler didn't mind being caught. And with each passing night, he saw the Prowler become happily trapped in his danger, wounds or no.

Dio, the Doctor had much to be thankful for.