Page 153 of Capuleto

“Then what?” The younger one's eyes urged Piero to speak.

“Damn it, why does it have to be me when it was your idea,” Piero protested.

“Talk, damn it, or I’ll get out of this bed and it’ll be you two occupying it.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, we don’t want to offend you, but we’re tired of you not trusting us and we’d appreciate it if you didn’t keep things from us.”

“What things?” I looked at them both, frowning.

“Well, if you prefer Russian cock over Calabrian clam, we don’t care.” I almost choked.

“What the fuck…?” I asked, feeling a stab in my ribs that made me wince.

“Don’t stress,” Piero continued. “I have a cousin who’s also into sausage, if I’d known you weren’t into Andrey and realized it earlier, I would’ve introduced you to him,” Piero said, rubbing his neck.

“Did you just call me a sausage pantry?” The words imprinted themselves in my brain. He blinked a few times, realizing what he had said.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say you were the turkey getting stuffed, maybe you’re the syringe,” he added nervously while Valerio shook his head in embarrassment, “not that I care about that. What I meant to say is that we don’t care who you sleep with. All we want is for you to be alive and kicking. And by that, I don’t mean wagging your tail, or well, maybe I do.” Piero was getting more nervous with each awkward phrase. “Basically, we’d rather you take it up the ass than end up as worm food because you’ve been buried.”

"You have the fucking sensitivity of an elephant," muttered Valerio.

"Well, you could have said it if you think you could have done it better," he grumbled. The fact that they had concluded that they would rather have me be gay than not have me among them made my heart clench.

"Are you calling me a fag?" I wanted to make them nervous. I knew that my furrowed brow and the daring look I was giving them was scaring them.

Their Adam's apples bobbed up and down, dragging their balls with them.

I let out a laugh, or more accurately, a weak attempt at one because the pain when I tried to laugh was intense.

They didn't even blink, fearing what I might say to them.

"Let's see," I insisted. "Is that the gossip of the house? All because I had to share a room with the Russian?" There was something more.

"We reached the conclusion after the tremors that shook the lamp, the bangs against the furniture, and the moans that slipped under your door. Either you were gay, or Caroline had come out of the TV to drag us into the light."

God, how I wanted to laugh out loud.

"Fuck! And I can't even have a laugh! You're right, if my thing with Andrey were a movie, it would be titled Poltergay." They laughed, relieved.

"Or Gay Desserts, since you both like banana with condensed milk."

Did Valerio really just say that? I almost broke three ribs trying to hold back the laughter.

We ended up having a pretty relaxed chat, during which I realized that my men gave much less importance than I imagined to the person I had fallen in love with.

"Aren't you afraid I'll jump you in the shower?" I asked jokingly.

"Thinking a gay guy could go for any guy is like saying a straight guy would settle for any hole, and even I have my limits," Piero confirmed.

"But they say gays are less of men, that they can't be in the mafia," I incited them.

They looked at me like, "What the hell have you smoked?"

"Whoever says that hasn't seen you shoot, or they're afraid of your dick. Don't stray from our side; we'll make sure we don't drop the soap so you don't drill our brains through our asses."

Piero shook his ass, making it rotate with his hands on his knees.

Valerio almost choked on his own saliva. And I had to exercise restraint that rivaled a seminarian's.