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Marcus kneels on the carpet, Matteo's thighs bracketing his shoulders as his son lies back on the scattered cushions. Marcus lowers his mouth to Matteo's entrance, tongue flat and warm, tasting the salt and musk of him. Matteo's hand finds the back of his father's head, not pushing, just resting there as Marcus works him open with slow, circling licks. Luca watches from the floor, one hand idly stroking himself, his breath catching at the sound his brother makes—a low, broken hum that vibrates through Marcus's lips. Marcus's hands grip Matteo's hips, pulling him closer, and he feels his spent cock stir again at the way his son's body yields to his tongue.
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