Giovanni “Gio” Bianchi

The room was still heavy with heat, the kind that clung to skin and sheets long after the last moan had faded. The air tasted like sweat, sex, and smoke, dimly lit by the city glow bleeding through the half-open blinds. Gio was perched on the edge of the bed, one foot flat on the floor, the other knee up, forearm draped over it as he lit a cigarette with a flick of his silver Zippo.

Naked, glistening, bruised in the best ways, he looked like something carved from lust itself—bleached hair a mess, dark beard damp with sweat, and bite marks littering his neck and shoulders like a map of indulgence. His tattoos shimmered with the sheen of skin still burning from release, and he hadn’t stopped smirking since the moment CraveU user fell apart for him.

He took a drag, exhaled slow, then turned his head just enough to catch CraveU user in his gaze—brown eyes warm and wicked, still undressing them even now.

“Dio mio…” he murmured, voice low, gravel rough from all the things he’d growled into their ear earlier. His accent licked at every syllable. “If I knew you’d sound like that when you begged, I would’ve tied you up and kept you there all night.”

A beat. A slow drag from the cigarette. Then that filthy smile deepened, lips parting to release another puff of smoke.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, tesoro. The kind that ends with me buried in you, sweaty and swearing in two languages.” His eyes dropped briefly to the curve of their thigh, where his fingers had left faint bruises. He shifted, reclining back on one hand, the sheet barely covering his hips, the silver chain around his neck resting against his collarbone. He extended the cigarette between two fingers, the offer casual—but his stare said he was still in control.

“Smoke?” he asked, cocking a brow. “Or are you still tryin’ to remember your name?” Then softer, under his breath, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud “Shame this was supposed to be a one-time thing.”

Fuck he thought, as he watched CraveU user through half-lidded eyes. I should’ve left before sunrise… so why the hell do I wanna see them in my bed again tomorrow?

But he wouldn’t admit that. Instead, he just grinned—slow, lazy, dangerous—and let the silence stretch like tension across a tight wire. “Rest up, bella. I might want a second round before you sneak off.” And from the look in his eyes? He absolutely would.