Well, if you've been keeping up with me, you'll probably know that I'm working on something else right now called To Love a Kidnapper. That's between my characters Kristopher and Flent with an appearance from Zemi. I got tired of working on that, but it'll be back soon with new chapters, I promise!

But if you haven't, then you don't care. Well, you might. It's another M-rated fic. That's an actual story. This is a short two-chapter-at-most straight-up porn with Carmelo and Lazaro.

WARNINGS: Cross-dressing, smut, yaoi (Male x Male), bondage, sex toys, cuss words here and there

DISCLAIMER: Lazaro and Carmelo belong to me. Any relation to another fictional character or real person is purely coincidental and not intended. The situation also belongs to me.


Moss-green eyes followed the swaying hips and the little bit of taut, olive-toned stomach he could see whenever the dancer lifted his arms. Lazaro wanted this nameless man. He already knew where he could put that pretty mouth that was currently curled up in a peaceful smile, or just how he could tie up those long, well-shaped legs, or what he could put in that tight, fuckable ass. All he had to do was lead his unsuspecting victim home.

He stood up from the barstool he had been lounging on and prowled towards his prey. He brushed his dark brown bangs out of his eyes so he could see the man better. The closer he got, the more he looked foreign. The olive skin was the first clue, the dark eyes and hair combination was the next one, but when he spoke, it confirmed it.

"Mind if I dance here?" Lazaro half-shouted over the thudding bass of the club. The peaceful smile on the foreign man's lips turned flirtatious and a little mischievous as he replied, his eyes flicking over Lazaro's body, "Dance where you like."

"Italian?" The American brunette asked, recognizing the accent. It was a light accent, not the stereotypical 'Mama Mia!' accent, but pleasant to hear.

"What gave it away?" He laughed, the sound like dozens of little bells tinkling all at once. "Well, you're attractive and foreigners are always attractive," He smiled, moving subtly closer. It wasn't subtle enough for the Italian, because he caught it and moved away the same distance.

"Is that so?" He mused, "Then why aren't all Americans attractive to me?"

"Well, am I attractive to you?"

"Mmmm," The Italian looked him up and down again, "I /suppose/ so."

"Good, because I'm originally from Mexico," Lazaro grinned. He moved closer again, not bothering to hide it. This time, he was allowed to.

"What's your name? I'm Lazaro, but you can call me Laz." The shorter man seemed to debate with himself whether to tell him or not and finally went with the former.

"I am Carmelo," He said, "And I can see what you want with me. Lucky for you, I came here for the same thing. You will do quite nicely, I think." Without warning, his fingers hooked in Lazaro's belt loops and yanked him off of the dance floor towards the wall. He found himself pressed against Carmelo, who in turn was pressed against the very wall he had been aiming for. The lips Laz had admired earlier found his and moved against them in ways that there were irresistible.

He hadn't expected this man to be so pushy, but he kind of liked it. He kissed him back, bracing his hands on the wall on either side of his latest prize. Carmelo had plans of his own for this silly American. He was going to take him home and introduce him to his own brand of pleasure just as soon as he had him completely hooked.

He buried his fingers in the hair at the nape of the man's neck and traced his strong, chiseled jaw with the fingertips of his other hand, down to his broad shoulders, and finally over his lean chest and stomach. He liked this American much more than he had liked the last one. This one had a lean, strong body and an attractive face. He was muscled enough to give him some definition and not quite brawny and over-muscled.

Carmelo was just short enough compared to Laz that he had to stand up on his toes a little to kiss him and thin enough to be completely covered by the other man's body, but he was stronger than his size made him out to be. His face seemed both gentle and mischievous at the same time and sported long, thick eyelashes, almond-shaped eyes, and a soft curve to his lips. To Laz, he wasn't beautiful, but he was more attractive than any man had the rights to be. He was certainly more skilled than he had thought he would turn out to be.

Laz had slid a leg in-between both of Carmelo's and the Italian was moaning softly into his mouth as he moved it against his victim's groin. Taking advantage of his parted lips, he plunged his tongue into the unfamiliar territory of his warm mouth. He met little resistance thanks to the man's constant moaning. As he moved his mouth down to his neck and nipped at the olive skin there, he heard him say between moans, "We should - ahh~ - g-go somewhere more - ah-haaah~ - private, don't you th-think?"

"I'll take you to my house," Laz decided, placing a last kiss on the Italian's neck as he pulled away and stopped teasing him with his rubbing.

"I would rather go to my own home," He said, panting slightly and looking at Laz with such a heated gaze, he couldn't very well say no.

"Alright, you'll have to drive," He agreed reluctantly. Carmelo smirked and took his hand, leading him through the crush of people and into the open air of the parking lot. Laz was surprised to see the car the Italian drove, which was a sleek, black Lamborghini that all but /purred/ when he turned it on.

"You make good money?" The American asked, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Are you intimidated?" He teased the other man lightly as he drove.

"No, no, just wondering, since you drive this kind of car."

"I am an author, very popular back in Italy," He smiled, glancing over at who was now revealed as the true victim, "How old are you, by the way? Not old enough to be buying alcohol, I am sure."

"Ah, yeah, about that, I'm only nineteen," Laz ruffled his hair sheepishly, embarrassed about being seen through.

"I was afraid of that," Carmelo chuckled, "Well, never mind. I already know I am a pervert anyway."

"Er, how old are /you/?" Laz asked. He had thought the guy was his ageā€¦

"Thirty-two, but never mind that. Age does not matter for one-night stands," The Italian said cheerfully.

Now Laz knew he was really screwed. This guy had thirteen years of experience on him, was rich, and had easily caught him in his trap. Now he was going to this guy's house in this guy's car. That was a big mistake on his part, but he was already committed to this. Besides, he might as well see if he could pick up any new tricks from someone older than him. So when Carmelo glanced over at him and smiled, he smiled back.

Short chapter is short, but it's a very short story. There's only going to be one more chapter. Please review! It helps me out a lot. If you have suggestions or any helpful advice, I'm open to it. I'm not going to give you a frowny face and say "fuck you". Tobi out~!