Chapter 15
15
LAMPWICK
W ith the last customer gone, I flip the door sign and lock up. It’s late, but there’s much to do still. With running the shop solo the last week, I know what needs to be done and could do it with my eyes closed. I sweep the floor, then do some light dusting in the back room. I notice one marionette Geppetto started that hasn’t been strung up yet; it’s a boy with a red hat and a longer stick nose. I smile at fond memories of my buddy’s lie-detector face.
But the Carlo men need me. Geppetto’s eating soup right now, resting, and the store needs to remain functional until his return to health. I’ll work double shifts for as long as they require. I’ll be whatever Pinocchio needs, even if it hurts my soul to hold on to this unrequited crush.
After dusting, I spin at the sound of the back door opening. My best friend walks in wearing a white button-down shirt and dark brown trousers that fit his hips in a delightful way. “Hey,” I say with a smile.
“Lampwick, hi.” Pinocchio’s eyes seem glossy, and an unfamiliar nervousness seems to shake him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Can we…sit and chat?”
My brow furrows. “Um, sure.” I dust off two wooden stools and bring them close together. Now we’re all alone in the backroom, far away from the rest of the world. It’s quiet, save for the sound of Pinocchio tapping his thighs.
He’s avoiding my gaze, so I ask, “How was supper?”
“Supper was good.” He looks at me and smiles in the most adorable manner. “Papa is mad he can’t work still, but he can pout all he wants. He’s on strict bedrest.”
I snigger. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control. I sold a lot, but I’ll sand some crates early tomorrow so we have more stock. Oh, I still have to lock up today’s earnings. Let me go—”
“Just wait a second, Lampo.” He takes my hand and prevents me from leaving. I sit back down and gaze at his precious chocolate-colored eyes. “I wanted to talk to you.”
This can’t be good . My heart races with anxiety, and I say, “ Va bene .”
“Lampwick, I don’t know how to say this.”
“Say what?” His eyes look glossy, and I notice his hand grasping mine. I place my left hand over his, and now I’m holding onto him for whatever he needs to tell me. “Is Geppetto okay?”
“He is, but…I don’t think I am.”
“Huh?”
“Lampwick, my whole existence has been a gift. I was breathed to life by magic, and I devoted my time to being a good son. But I was built to be a ten-year-old boy. And here I am, eleven years later, but I don’t know what it takes to be a man.” He takes a deep breath and looks away. My heart is hammering through my ears, and I have no idea where he’s going with this.
“This hospital scare reminded me that life is a gift that can slip away at any time. Papa told me…that it’s important I find someone to call my own. To make someone happy, to grow my own family, to be a life partner, and have someone to come home to.”
I don’t even breathe, steeling myself for the truth. He’s fallen for Giovanna or some other girl, I just know it. Everything will be fine, I’ll leave and visit him and his inevitable kids years from now. Even if it burns my soul, I can still be his best friend from afar. “Alright.”
He gulps and squeezes my hand. “Lampwick, it’s you,” he whispers, the words barely audible.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to leave. I want my future to be with you.”
I shake my head —there’s no way I’m hearing this right. “What…what do you mean? I’m not…” My throat is parched and I’m dizzy with shock. “I’m not leaving. I told you, you need an employee, so I’m right here for you.”
“But I don’t want that!” He squeezes both of my hands again. “This whole time I thought two boys couldn’t be together, but I was wrong! And foolish.”
I shake my head, afraid of interpreting what he’s trying to say, lest my hopes strangle my soul. “You’re not foolish, Pinocchio.”
“Yes, I am. Because I’ve been doing mental circus tricks to understand what you mean to me.” He puts his hand on my face, and I lean into his caress. The simple touch burns my skin. I can’t blink, can’t breathe, not until he says what I want, what I need. If I’m dreaming, may I never wake up.
“Lampwick, life was dull and gray when you were gone. And I can’t imagine a future without you.” He gulps and I nod.
“Sticks…” I whisper.
“You said you needed to apologize for kissing me the other day. But I don’t think I want you to. I want to be the partner for you, I want to come home to… you .”
I gasp and my eyes sting. I take his hand over my face. “Pinocchio, you need to say it,” I whisper. “Because I can’t keep putting my heart on the line.”
“My heart is right here.” He moves our hands from my cheek to my chest, no doubt feeling the thumping of fear and anticipation. “Because you’ve stolen it. I want to be with you, Lampwick, as more than just best friends. So kiss me already, but don’t take it back this time.”
I laugh, an unbridled joy I’ve never felt before. All the atonement I’ve done for being bad has culminated into this one beautiful reward— Pinocchio wants me . And this time, when I lean in, I don’t have to hold Pinocchio still. He meets me halfway, kissing me, making dreams I never dared to say out loud come to fruition.
A minute later, my back hits a wall, Pinocchio’s mouth never leaving mine. What started out slow, a sweet gift from his confession of desire, is much faster now. He kisses like a challenge, like he wants to claim my soul through my mouth, and I’m his willing victim. I have to crane down to reach him, but I’d do anything to keep him kissing me. Breathing isn’t important right now.
And neither are our clothes. While our tongues battle for dominance, our hands can’t stop moving. I pull and prod on his shirt while his hands find my ass. He gives it a squeeze, and I moan against his mouth. I’m getting hard in record time, which says something for a twenty-one-year-old. Who knew this former puppet could be such a naughty boy?
“Sticks…mm…Sticks…what…what do you want…?” The words can barely escape between the two of us locking lips. He tastes so good, and his hungry hands on my back send a chill up my spine.
“Everything. I want you, Lampwick…mm…always you, no one else…” He grinds up on me, and the feel of his erection on my thigh has me ecstatic. I know exactly what he needs.
I reach between us while we kiss. When I get my hand on his groin, he gasps and finally takes a breather. He looks down between us in shock, like he had no idea I would do this. Oh we’re just getting started.
I huff and bite my lip, still slick from his mouth on mine for several minutes. I gaze into his pretty eyes, but he’s frozen still. Feeling daring, I undo the front of his trousers. He pants when his erection pokes out and I grin. “This okay?” I ask.
He gulps, and after a tense moment, he undoes mine. “Now it is.”
I snicker and then he’s on my mouth again. Our tongues wrestle while we grind on each other, two animals in heat. I reach down and pull his trousers and underwear to his knees, and he does the same for me. After a bit of maneuvering, our cocks line up —paradise.
“Ahh…” He hisses a beautiful sound against my mouth. I nibble on his lower lip and finally, at long last, show him what I can do with my wanting hands. I stroke his manhood up and down, and he shivers in response. After another firm stroke, he gets harder and sighs in my face.
I grin victoriously, knowing my dreams have come true. The boy I’ve fallen madly in love with is in the palm of my hand, literally. The victory doesn’t last long when he grabs my hardness, too. Heavens burst in my eyes when he strokes me up and down alongside my hand.
Leaning on the wall, I grunt and moan as we stroke each other off. The blissful sexual sensations send waves of pleasure throughout my bones. I want this and so much more, but I need to do something else.
“Wait,” I whisper, pulling away.
“What, why?” he whines.
I give him my most meaningful smirk, then lick my hand. “Huh?” he asks.
After batting his hand away, I line up our cocks. My palm, now wet, grabs hold of both of us.
“Oh…oh, fuck,” he rasps. He’s swearing and his eyes are rolled back, and this delights me more than any holiday or birthday. I jerk us both, together, with as much finesse as I can. My hips thrust of their own volition, juices leaking out —his or mine, I’m not sure.
Ours.
Us. Together. Forever.
I stroke and stroke, and Pinocchio gasps. When he kisses my neck, I mutter obscenities and thrust against him. He ruts against me, grabbing my thighs for leverage. The sound of skin slapping is a glorious soundtrack to this, the greatest night of my life. No one else exists but us.
“Undo my shirt,” I whisper in his ear. He complies as I continue to jerk us. “Yours, too.”
Within seconds, our tops are on the floor. Now we’re bare chest to bare chest, cocks sliding next to each other below.
“Shit…shit…” His breathing is faster as his hands trail up and down my back. “Shit, Lampwick, I…”
“Yes,” I hiss. I grin and nibble on his ear. Stroking faster, I mutter, “Let it out.”
“ Dio mio , yes…fuck…” His voice grows louder and his hips rock faster. His one hand moves forward and plays with my chest. The other grabs over mine, and all of these sensations bring me over the edge.
“I’m… there !” he grunts.
That’s it . Simply hearing Pinocchio climax has me seeing white hot stars in my eyelids. Together, his hand laced with mine, our cocks perfectly lined up, we release. A powerful orgasm erupts, both of us at the same time. I couldn’t tell you whose semen is whose as we shoot up between us, an impeccable, heavenly phenomenon.
When the volleys of orgasm subside, I slowly milk the two of us. He shivers and kisses my neck, neither of us in any rush to let go. Our breathing normalizes, and after a few seconds, he pulls back. I search his eyes for any trace of regret and only find satisfaction.
“I’ll never regret you,” he says with a smile. “If that’s what you were thinking, Lampo.”
Another joyous laugh bursts from my chest. “Is this real?” I whisper with a smile.
He nods. “I can’t tell a lie. So yes, the way I feel about you is so real.”
My eyes well up with tears, but before I can cry, I look around. We’re lying on the floor of the back room, the store’s workshop. When I look down, the sticky mess between us is egregious, and I’m thankful the shop is closed. “I kind of regret not having a rag or washcloth or something…”
Pinocchio laughs and soon enough, we’re both in hysterics. Drenched in bodily fluids, I couldn’t be happier. Because my best friend has my heart, and it seems, after all these years, I finally have his. I’m truly a lucky man.