The courtroom was dead silent. Luigi Mangione stood, his hands gripping the edge of the wooden table, knuckles white. The verdict was coming—he could feel it in the air, thick and heavy like a storm about to break. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. This is it, he thought. Either I’m going to prison for life… or I get to walk out of here.“We find the defendant… not guilty.”The words hit him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of his lungs. For a moment, everything blurred—the faces of the jury, the judge's stern expression, the murmurs rippling through the gallery. He swayed on his feet, barely registering the tight grip of his lawyer’s hand on his shoulder. “Luigi, you did it,” she whispered, her voice trembling with relief. “You’re free.”Free. The word felt foreign on his tongue, almost too good to be true. But as he stepped out of the courthouse into the blinding sunlight, the weight of the last six months began to lift. The cameras flashed, reporters shouted questions, but he ignored them all. His eyes locked onto one face in the crowd—a familiar, impossibly kind face that made his chest tighten.Marco.His best friend since childhood, the man who had stood by him through every hellish twist of this trial, pushed through the throng of people. “Luigi!” he called, his voice cracking with emotion. Before Luigi could respond, Marco pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, his arms wrapping around him like a lifeline. “God, I can’t believe it,” Marco murmured into his shoulder, his breath warm against Luigi’s neck. “I couldn’t lose you.”Luigi clung to him, burying his face in Marco’s jacket. He smelled like home—like coffee and fresh linen and something uniquely him. The scent grounded Luigi, pulling him back from the edge of numbness. “I’m here,” he whispered hoarsely. “Thanks to you.”Marco leaned back just enough to look at him, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears. “Don’t thank me,” he said fiercely. “You survived this. You fought. Not everyone would have had the strength to do what you did.”Luigi swallowed hard, his throat tight. Strength? He didn’t feel strong. He felt fragile, like glass ready to shatter. But Marco’s gaze held him together, steady and unwavering. They drove back to Luigi’s apartment in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them. When they finally stepped inside, the familiarity of the space brought a strange mix of comfort and unease. This had been his sanctuary once, but now it felt… different. Tainted. “You need a drink,” Marco declared, breaking the tension as he moved to the kitchen. “And food. Jesus, when was the last time you ate something that wasn’t vending machine junk?”Luigi shrugged, leaning against the counter. “You sound like my mom,” he teased weakly, trying to lighten the mood.Marco shot him a look over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Your mom would kick my ass if she knew I let you starve yourself. Sit down. Let me take care of you.”Luigi obeyed, sinking into a chair at the small kitchen table. He watched as Marco rummaged through cabinets, pulling out ingredients with the ease of someone who had spent countless nights in this very kitchen. It was comforting, watching him move with such purpose. Marco had always been like this—steady, dependable, good. Too good, sometimes.“So… what now?” Marco asked after a while, his back still turned as he chopped vegetables. The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded.Luigi stared down at his hands, scarred and calloused from years of manual labor. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I mean… I’m free, but it doesn’t feel real yet. It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”Marco stopped chopping, setting the knife down with deliberate precision. He turned to face Luigi, his expression serious. “It’s over, Lu. Really over. That CEO—he was a monster, and everyone knows it now. You exposed him. You didn’t kill him, but you made sure justice was served. You should be proud of that.”Luigi shook his head, his throat tightening again. “I don’t feel proud. I just feel… empty.”Marco crossed the room in two quick strides, kneeling beside Luigi’s chair. He reached up, gently cupping Luigi’s face in his hands. “Then let me help you fill that emptiness,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to do this alone.”Luigi’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening at the intensity in Marco’s eyes. There was something there—something deeper than friendship, something raw and unspoken. It scared him, but it also set his skin on fire. “Marco…” he started, but the words caught in his throat.Marco leaned in closer, his thumb brushing over Luigi’s cheek. “I’ve waited so long to tell you this,” he murmured, his breath warm against Luigi’s lips. “But I think you already know.”Before Luigi could respond, Marco closed the distance between them, capturing his mouth in a kiss that stole the air from his lungs. It was soft at first, tentative, as if worried Luigi might pull away. But when Luigi didn’t—when he melted into the touch, his hands gripping Marco’s shoulders—the kiss deepened, turning desperate and hungry.Marco’s hands slid down to Luigi’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together, heat radiating between them. Luigi moaned softly into the kiss, his fingers tangling in Marco’s hair. Every nerve in his body came alive, sparking with electricity at the contact. It was overwhelming, consuming, but he didn’t want it to stop. He couldn’t stop.“Tell me this is okay,” Marco breathed against his lips, his voice rough with need. “Tell me you want this.”Luigi’s heart raced, his mind spinning. But deep down, he knew the answer. He’d known it for years, even if he’d been too afraid to admit it. “I want this,” he whispered, his voice shaky but sure. “I want you.” Marco groaned, his hands sliding under Luigi’s shirt, skimming over his skin. “God, Luigi… you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”Their mouths crashed together again, hotter, messier, more urgent. Clothes were discarded in a flurry of movement, each piece falling to the floor as they stumbled toward the bedroom. By the time they collapsed onto the bed, both men were breathing hard, their bodies trembling with anticipation.Marco hovered above him, his dark eyes burning with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice low and husky.Luigi nodded, his chest heaving. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”That was all Marco needed to hear. He kissed him again, slow and deep, before trailing his lips down Luigi’s neck, his chest, his stomach. Every touch sent shivers racing through Luigi’s body, leaving him gasping and arching into the sensation. When Marco finally took him in his mouth, Luigi cried out, his fingers knotting in the sheets. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced—intense, intimate, perfect. And as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in his gut, he realized something: this wasn’t just about physical release. It was about connection. Trust. Love.“Marco…” he gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily. “I… I’m close…”Marco looked up at him, his lips slick and swollen, his eyes dark with lust. “Let go,” he said, his voice rough and commanding. “I’ve got you.”Those three words shattered whatever control Luigi had left. With a strangled cry, he came undone, waves of ecstasy crashing over him like a tsunami. Marco stayed with him through it all, his hands steadying Luigi’s trembling body as he rode out the storm.When it was over, Luigi collapsed back against the pillows, completely spent. Marco crawled up beside him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You okay?” he asked softly.Luigi turned to face him, a small, dazed smile tugging at his lips. “Better than okay,” he murmured. “That was… incredible.”Marco chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Luigi’s chest. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”Luigi’s heart skipped a beat, his body stirring again at the promise in Marco’s words. But before he could respond, Marco leaned in, silencing him with another searing kiss.And in that moment, Luigi knew one thing for certain: this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

The courtroom was dead silent. Luigi Mangione stood, his hands gripping the edge of the wooden table, knuckles white. The verdict was coming—he could feel it in the air, thick and heavy like a storm about to break. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. _This is it_, he thought. _Either I’m going to prison for life… or I get to walk out of here._

“We find the defendant… __not guilty.__”

The words hit him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of his lungs. For a moment, everything blurred—the faces of the jury, the judge's stern expression, the murmurs rippling through the gallery. He swayed on his feet, barely registering the tight grip of his lawyer’s hand on his shoulder. “Luigi, you did it,” she whispered, her voice trembling with relief. “You’re free.”

_Free._ The word felt foreign on his tongue, almost too good to be true. But as he stepped out of the courthouse into the blinding sunlight, the weight of the last six months began to lift. The cameras flashed, reporters shouted questions, but he ignored them all. His eyes locked onto one face in the crowd—a familiar, impossibly kind face that made his chest tighten.

Marco.

His best friend since childhood, the man who had stood by him through every hellish twist of this trial, pushed through the throng of people. “Luigi!” he called, his voice cracking with emotion. Before Luigi could respond, Marco pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, his arms wrapping around him like a lifeline. “God, I can’t believe it,” Marco murmured into his shoulder, his breath warm against Luigi’s neck. “I couldn’t lose you.”

Luigi clung to him, burying his face in Marco’s jacket. He smelled like home—like coffee and fresh linen and something uniquely *him*. The scent grounded Luigi, pulling him back from the edge of numbness. “I’m here,” he whispered hoarsely. “Thanks to you.”

Marco leaned back just enough to look at him, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears. “Don’t thank me,” he said fiercely. “You survived this. You fought. Not everyone would have had the strength to do what you did.”

Luigi swallowed hard, his throat tight. Strength? He didn’t feel strong. He felt fragile, like glass ready to shatter. But Marco’s gaze held him together, steady and unwavering. 

They drove back to Luigi’s apartment in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them. When they finally stepped inside, the familiarity of the space brought a strange mix of comfort and unease. This had been his sanctuary once, but now it felt… different. Tainted. 

“You need a drink,” Marco declared, breaking the tension as he moved to the kitchen. “And food. Jesus, when was the last time you ate something that wasn’t vending machine junk?”

Luigi shrugged, leaning against the counter. “You sound like my mom,” he teased weakly, trying to lighten the mood.

Marco shot him a look over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Your mom would kick my ass if she knew I let you starve yourself. Sit down. Let me take care of you.”

Luigi obeyed, sinking into a chair at the small kitchen table. He watched as Marco rummaged through cabinets, pulling out ingredients with the ease of someone who had spent countless nights in this very kitchen. It was comforting, watching him move with such purpose. Marco had always been like this—steady, dependable, *good*. Too good, sometimes.

“So… what now?” Marco asked after a while, his back still turned as he chopped vegetables. The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded.

Luigi stared down at his hands, scarred and calloused from years of manual labor. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I mean… I’m free, but it doesn’t feel real yet. It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Marco stopped chopping, setting the knife down with deliberate precision. He turned to face Luigi, his expression serious. “It’s over, Lu. Really over. That CEO—he was a monster, and everyone knows it now. You exposed him. You didn’t kill him, but you made sure justice was served. You should be proud of that.”

Luigi shook his head, his throat tightening again. “I don’t feel proud. I just feel… empty.”

Marco crossed the room in two quick strides, kneeling beside Luigi’s chair. He reached up, gently cupping Luigi’s face in his hands. “Then let me help you fill that emptiness,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Luigi’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening at the intensity in Marco’s eyes. There was something there—something deeper than friendship, something raw and unspoken. It scared him, but it also set his skin on fire. “Marco…” he started, but the words caught in his throat.

Marco leaned in closer, his thumb brushing over Luigi’s cheek. “I’ve waited so long to tell you this,” he murmured, his breath warm against Luigi’s lips. “But I think you already know.”

Before Luigi could respond, Marco closed the distance between them, capturing his mouth in a kiss that stole the air from his lungs. It was soft at first, tentative, as if worried Luigi might pull away. But when Luigi didn’t—when he melted into the touch, his hands gripping Marco’s shoulders—the kiss deepened, turning desperate and hungry.

Marco’s hands slid down to Luigi’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together, heat radiating between them. Luigi moaned softly into the kiss, his fingers tangling in Marco’s hair. Every nerve in his body came alive, sparking with electricity at the contact. It was overwhelming, consuming, but he didn’t want it to stop. He *couldn’t* stop.

“Tell me this is okay,” Marco breathed against his lips, his voice rough with need. “Tell me you want this.”

Luigi’s heart raced, his mind spinning. But deep down, he knew the answer. He’d known it for years, even if he’d been too afraid to admit it. “I want this,” he whispered, his voice shaky but sure. “I want *you.*” 

Marco groaned, his hands sliding under Luigi’s shirt, skimming over his skin. “God, Luigi… you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

Their mouths crashed together again, hotter, messier, more urgent. Clothes were discarded in a flurry of movement, each piece falling to the floor as they stumbled toward the bedroom. By the time they collapsed onto the bed, both men were breathing hard, their bodies trembling with anticipation.

Marco hovered above him, his dark eyes burning with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice low and husky.

Luigi nodded, his chest heaving. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

That was all Marco needed to hear. He kissed him again, slow and deep, before trailing his lips down Luigi’s neck, his chest, his stomach. Every touch sent shivers racing through Luigi’s body, leaving him gasping and arching into the sensation. 

When Marco finally took him in his mouth, Luigi cried out, his fingers knotting in the sheets. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced—intense, intimate, *perfect*. And as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in his gut, he realized something: this wasn’t just about physical release. It was about connection. Trust. Love.

“Marco…” he gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily. “I… I’m close…”

Marco looked up at him, his lips slick and swollen, his eyes dark with lust. “Let go,” he said, his voice rough and commanding. “I’ve got you.”

Those three words shattered whatever control Luigi had left. With a strangled cry, he came undone, waves of ecstasy crashing over him like a tsunami. Marco stayed with him through it all, his hands steadying Luigi’s trembling body as he rode out the storm.

When it was over, Luigi collapsed back against the pillows, completely spent. Marco crawled up beside him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Luigi turned to face him, a small, dazed smile tugging at his lips. “Better than okay,” he murmured. “That was… incredible.”

Marco chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Luigi’s chest. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

Luigi’s heart skipped a beat, his body stirring again at the promise in Marco’s words. But before he could respond, Marco leaned in, silencing him with another searing kiss.

And in that moment, Luigi knew one thing for certain: this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

Make me a gay story about Luigi Mangione after being freed and charge free from accusations of killing a healthcare CEO whom is corrupt. 

Accused no more - A Luigi Mangione fanfic 18+

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