The next second his lips were on mine, his tongue was somewhere between my teeth and I was losing consciousness of the world, leaving space only for a deep, crawling desire to give myself to this man completely. I shivered at his touch, confident and protective, and I could feel his muscles grow tense as my hands slid under his shirt, on his chest, over his back, travelling all the way to his waist and aiming to go down. He pulled my shirt up and let it drop to the floor, followed by his own. I knew what my next move would be, and I could read on his face that he did, too. But when I found myself on my knees, already working the buttons of his pants, he joined me down on the blanket and took my face in his hands.
“No… not before I kiss every inch of your skin,” he whispered hoarsely, and I didn’t know –didn’t think– that he was serious… until I realized he was.
His mouth moved on my neck, making my skin burn at the contact and my body tremble in anticipation, as he sucked bruising kisses all over me, and it felt terribly good and maddeningly, intensely raw. That slow, wet and painful journey continued without mercy, and I don’t know how but I found myself lying down with my eyes shut and my head tossed back, as my body ached with want and need; I was in need of him, of his mouth, of the weight of his body on mine, and of all those things that I didn’t know I would ever be allowed to wish for, that I had maybe dreamed of but could never truly believe. So he was giving me all he had promised, and more than he had ever promised, and I had no idea how to react, but even though my thoughts were fogged and confused, my body could only feel, more and more, sensations that were a thousand times stronger than I ever thought possible; the shiver given by the rough texture of his hands, the thrills from his breath on my over-heated skin, the maddening, frustrating longing tearing me apart as his stubble brushed my thighs, getting closer to where I most wanted him to be. And somewhere deep inside of me I was afraid that reality couldn’t be this good, that I didn’t deserve this, and that everything was going to fade away…
But reality finally sucked me in, in all its beauty, honesty and passion, as if it was forcing me to accept that there was more to it than I had ever known; that I was allowed to love; that in this world, there was someone willing to give me this.
Rob.
The man who held my hand when I was overwhelmed by the sky. The man who pushed me to his chest when I wanted to cry. The man who kissed me when he learned about my past. The man who was having me in his mouth, pleasuring me in the most selfless way.
With his name on my lips, I finally let go of everything I held within, and he let me in, welcomed me and accepted me. Emptying myself from all my worries and fears, all I had left inside my heart was happiness; a tiny, burning and aching sparkle of joy, defenseless and fragile.
As my breath struggled to even out, I realized my eyes were wet.
“Don’t leave me,” I found myself whispering, and it was my heart talking, afraid to lose that connection, afraid to have made myself too vulnerable, scared of crossing the point of no return.
But Roberto slid his body on mine, pinning me down, and kissed me so gently that I wished I could die in his arms right then, because there was no way my life was ever getting better than this.
Right there, I knew. I was already past the point of no return.
ROBERTO
I could spend hours lying on the floor with James in my arms, doing nothing but listening to him breathing. My fingers traced the delicate line of his cheekbones, travelling slowly to his soft, red lips. I allowed myself to remember all the things he had done for me with that mouth in the past hour, and I could almost feel it again in all the places it had been.
There was always something solemn about the way James kissed me or touched me; it was like he tried to communicate something, impressing on my skin his pure, honest affection, his incredulity and his gratitude. There was no need for him to feel either of the last two, but I knew he did. I knew somewhere inside of him he still couldn’t quite believe in my feelings for him, and in those moments when he allowed himself to see the truth, he still felt grateful, as if I was being with him to do him a favor. That was just how low his self-confidence was, and I wished I could open his eyes and let him see what I saw when I looked at him; a beautiful, complex and sweet young man with a huge heart and a world of possibilities in front of him.
Relaxed and spent, James was making an effort to keep his eyes open. I witnessed with extreme interest how his eyelids closed slowly and suddenly opened again, only to fall back down inexorably. His breath was changing as well, growing deeper from his chest. I tightened my embrace, wishing I could shield him from the rest of the world and finally make him feel entirely safe. He moaned softly and brushed his face against my chest, and there I thought there was nothing in my life as precious and valuable as that moment with him.
We were both startled by James’ phone buzzing.
“I swear I’m not sleeping,” James said in a muffled whisper, while reaching out for his phone. “Jenn asks where we are. Says the fireworks will start in twenty minutes.”
I groaned and nuzzled at James’ neck. “I don’t want to go,” I said, tracing the line of his neck with my fingers.
“Do you want to draw me like one of your French girls, Jack?” he said, unable to hide a small tremor in his voice. I chuckled and tickled him, making him laugh.
“Stop making fun of me!” I said. “It’s a great movie, okay? And not just because I had a crush on Leo.”
James rolled his eyes. “I knew it. You like me only because I look like young Di Caprio.”
“Stop saying ‘young’ Di Caprio. And not really, you look more like Justin in my opinion.”
“Justin Bieber?” he asked with a disappointed face.
“Justin Timberlake, sweetheart. It’s all about the curls.”
He looked surprised. “Oh. You mean, when he was young.”
“Don’t you dare!”
I wished we had more time. I would’ve traded anything for more time with James. While going back to the main square, walking side by side, with his hand in mine, I had to bite my tongue and fight the temptation to ask him to stay. I wished I could whisper “Don’t leave me” into his ear, like he had done earlier. Could I get any more egotistical than I already was? What was the limit? I knew I had to set some boundaries to avoid hurting James.
“You will never believe who won the lottery!” Jenn shouted when she saw us coming back. “This guy!” She pointed at Francesco.
James whistled. His sweaty hand, that I was still holding tight in my own, betrayed how nervous he really was to be back with the others; he was probably sure they knew what we had been doing. I was sure, too. Especially when it came to Francesco, I could almost read on his face, “You better be doing this right.”
“What did you win?” I asked, trying to ignore that familiar look in his eyes. “Salami to bring back to Milan?”
Fra just scoffed. “No matter how I would have loved for my luggage to smell like dead pig for weeks, I have to disappoint you. I won first prize.”
“Romantic weekend in Florence!” James exclaimed. “Congratulations!”
“Who are you going with?” I asked, just to tease him a bit.