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The sickening crunch of bone and metal echoed throughout the courtyard. Vittorino breathed heavily, his hands fastened tight around the handle of a long shovel, watching as Dante crumpled beneath the blow.
He began to hyperventilate, eyes filling with tears as he dropped the shovel. Vittorino grabbed at his scarf, pulling tight on either end to force some sanity back into him, gasping as his face turned blue. Dante Basilio was dead.
Vittorino’s hands shook as he finally let go of his scarf, daring to stare down at the body ahead of him. His best friend, his confidant, lying vulnerable in front of him…
Vittorino licked his lips, face burning up in a fever as his gaze fixated on the corpse before him. A cruel idea wormed its way into his mind, something he would never dare utter in front of his god.. but he thought it nonetheless. Dante was already dead, his body limp on the ground as blood pooled beneath his fractured skull… but something remained alive, a bulge in his pants that must’ve been present before the final blow.
Vittorino never had the chance to truly say goodbye, to confess to Dante what he’d felt since they were young and careless. Now all that was left of his love was a limp body and a half-hard cock that was losing blood fast.
This was his only chance. If he wanted this, he had to act fast, and now.
Vittorino dropped to his knees, crawling over to Dante with a searing heat of guilt in his stomach. Rigor mortis had already begun to set in and it was hard to maneuver the heavy Dante onto his back, grunting with effort and exertion. Hasty hands yanked at the belt tightened around Dante’s waist, fumbling with the latch, clammy and unfocused movements clouding Vittorino’s mind. He grumbled to himself, eyebrows knitting together in frustration as he finally got it loose enough to tug down Dante’s pants.
Vittorino practically drooled at the sight of Dante’s cock. It was bigger than he’d expected, hard and leaking against his stomach. As much as Vittorino wished he could admire it for longer, the lingering anxiety that he had to work quickly spurred him back into motion. He tugged his robes up and his briefs down, quickly taking position over his love’s waist.
Vittorino winced as he guided Dante’s cock inside him, panting with exertion. It was far too big, he wasn’t prepped for this, but his only chance was going to pass him by if he wasted any more time. He grabbed Dante’s hand, soil-stained and sweaty, clamping it between his teeth as he bit down hard.
Vittorino cried out as he forced himself down on Dante’s cock, biting hard enough to draw blood. His hands gripped tight onto the camouflage jacket beneath him, feeling his ass tear and stretch, blood only serving as lubricant to help him force himself down further. A sob left his throat as he recognized the taste in his mouth–more blood, Dante’s this time. He couldn’t stop himself from drinking it down greedily as heavy grunts escaped his throat, gasping and swallowing in equal measures.
He forced his ass down onto Dante, feeling him bottom out with a loud whine. Vittorino was making a mess of his robes, precum staining and dripping from his tip. It hurt, the stretch and tear of his ass around a cock that was quickly losing blood, but Vittorino didn’t let that stop him. He bit down harder against Dante’s hand with a guttural moan as he lifted himself up, slamming down, fantasizing that Dante were still alive to fuck him like this.
Still alive. Vittorino groaned, drooling around the digits in his mouth as he felt that same guilt twist in his gut. He was *dead*. He was fucking a corpse.
“I love you,” Vittorino mumbled, fingers clawing into the fabric of Dante’s jacket as he forced himself down again, crying out. Tears began to bubble at his eyes, spilling down over blood-soaked cheeks as he painfully fucked himself on his love’s corpse. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
He was close, so achingly close, bouncing himself up and down against the lifeless hips beneath him. Vittorino gasped, voice raspy from his worshipping chants and the moans that racked themselves from his throat, his body shaking with guilt and sobs.
“I love you,” he promised again, balling his fists together and slamming into Dante’s stomach, forcing his body to expel cum inside him. Vittorino cried as he came, shameful spurts against skin that was quickly growing cold. He spit the hand out of his mouth, staring down with wide, tearful eyes at Dante’s face. He seemed almost calm like this, relaxed in a way Vittorino had never seen him before, violated and pushed around yet somehow unbothered and he loved him.
Vittorino shivered, crawling forward onto Dante and grabbing at his face, willing him to open his eyes again. The swelling in his cock had gone down now and Vittorino wished it wasn’t over yet, picturing that Dante could wake up and thank him for this. He crashed his lips into Dante’s, desperate and feverish, manipulating his face to make it feel like he was kissing back.
But, just as soon as it had started, it was over.
Dante Basilio was dead.
Vittorino had lost his virginity to a corpse.