Prosciutto slammed the door open to his dingy apartment, coming home after completing another bloody mission. He had been tasked with assassinating a target responsible for pissing off The Boss. Someone who asked too many questions and needed to be eliminated. While he never did get the guys name, the blood speckled on his shoes was irksome.

It was a thankless job. Prosciutto was convinced that none of the members in La Squadra Esecuzione got paid enough for the dirty work they did. If it wasn't for them, Naples would be crawling with scum that only took up space.

After undoing his tie, he flicked on the lights, freezing where he stood. While he couldn't exactly place it... something was off. His intuition never led him astray before.

Without a sound, Prosciutto slowly unholstered his revolver, stalking through his apartment for something unseen. A presence just for him.

He cleared every room. Checking even the pantry and closets finding nothing. Still, there was something in the air that Prosciutto just couldn't shake. Only then it dawned on him.

"You can come out now." Prosciutto drawled from the center of his living room, tucking that gun back into his pants, only to feel strong arms encircle his trim waist. A heat pressed against the back of his suit. Tall. Far too comforting for a killer like him.

"Risotto." Prosciutto concluded, letting out a sigh as his secret lover held him close. "A cosa diavolo stavi pensando? I almost put a bullet in you." He huffed, closing those blue eyes to savor a small moment of stolen domestic bliss between two serious killers.

"You're hurt." Risotto's deep voice rumbled very close to Prosciutto's left ear, missing not a single thing. Especially how Prosciutto winced when a large invisible hand traced across his ribcage.