Chapter 21
21
LAMPWICK
C hristmas morning as part of the Carlo family is magical. We have a joyous breakfast, listen to the traveling musicians stroll down the avenue playing holiday tunes, and leisurely enjoy Christmas meals. I never got gifts as a kid, but Geppetto got me a fancy new wool sweater. We all exchange presents, and of course, we spoil Arpeggio with all the toys and treats the cat could ask for. I sit on the living room floor and pet the girl while she eats some smoked fish from a plate.
My lightly swollen lip isn’t the only remnant of last night. As scary as Mr. Delluomo was, I wouldn’t have changed last night for the world. Holding Pinocchio while we danced was heavenly. His face glowing in the twinkling colors only reinforced the fact that I want him forever. But hearing Geppetto and the entire town accept me as their own was literally a dream come true.
My shoulders feel lighter with the one remarkable truth—for the first time in my life, I am not a pariah.
I gladly pet Arpeggio, and she purrs in contentment. When I look up, Pinocchio is already grinning at me a few feet away on the carpet. Silently, his look conveys everything I want to know—that we have every intention of spending all of our Christmases together.
After lunch, we join the entire town in a massive Christmas mass by the church. I say hi to townsfolk I’ve never met, and it’s a joyous time. Giovanna even hugs me, even though her father carefully avoids me. I have no intention of talking to him or going to the bakery ever again. We’ll both need to accept each other from afar, it seems.
We clean up and get comfortable at home as the sun goes down. I’m lying on the couch listening to Pinocchio read one of his fairy tale novels. Naturally, I pet a snoozing Arpeggio, curled up on the blanket on my stomach. I can’t even focus on my boyfriend’s words today, choosing instead to bask in the Christmas magic. I’ve always dreamed of a classic family holiday, and I finally have it.
“Well, I’m off!”
I look up to see Geppetto striding out of his room. He dons his winter coat and is holding a basket and a cane. Pinocchio shares a confused look with me before turning to his dad.
“Papa, where are you going?”
“I’m going to sing carols and have supper with my senior group.” He picks up Arpeggio who wakes up in his hands. “And plus, Mrs. Ricci and the others want to see this little one.”
He places her in the basket, and she meows then goes back to sleep. We chuckle, and I sit up.
“But it’s Christmas!”
“And we have no work.” He points at his son. “So I’m going to go be social with people my own age. And you two have each other.” His finger points at me, and I grin.
“But, Papa—”
“No buts. You two enjoy this alone time. I’ll be back in four hours.” He gets to the door and Pinocchio opens it for him. Geppetto adjusts his cap and looks at me. “Have a Merry Christmas, you two.”
He disappears, but I swear, he winks at me before the door closes. Huh .
With him gone, the energy in the room shifts. Pinocchio sits next to me on the couch, and it’s so quiet I can hear my heart beating. I’m so used to hearing Arpeggio scurrying or Geppetto coughing, without them, the house seems empty.
And we’re two feet away from each other. All alone. In an intimate setting.
I gaze at Pinocchio just as he turns to me, and we laugh for no reason. We look away for another beat before turning back to each other. Wanting to push through the awkwardness, I lean forward and hold his face in my hand. Geppetto appears to be supporting our relationship, giving us private time, and I intend to take advantage of this Christmas present.
We kiss and kiss, nothing but the sound of our racing pulses filling the room. I hold his perfect cheek as his hands grab my hip. Our tongues enter play, the sweetest sensation I’ve ever felt. As I taste the inside of his mouth, I tell him wordless secrets I’ve been keeping in my heart.
We get closer on the couch as our kissing gets heated. My trousers become tight, and I need so much more. I can barely breathe with his mouth on mine, but if I die this way, my soul will be content.
“Pinocchio…mm…” I can barely speak around his lips, and his hands grip me tighter.
“Ah, Lampwick,” he says through a breathy moan. When he bites my lip, I wince and pull back. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay!” I say through a chuckle, touching my mouth.
“I completely forgot!” His face is dripping with apology.
“So did I.” We laugh and I gaze up at him. He’s still centimeters from my face, and he smells so good. With the pain gone, I suddenly remember last night, the good and the bad. “Um, about yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry I let that happen to you.”
“No.” I wave my hand. “I meant…the dancing. Holding you.”
He gulps. “Yeah?” he rasps.
“I liked it. And…” I take his hand in mine. “I’m so glad the town knows about us.” My insecurities flare up as I recall that his neighbors now know we’re in a homosexual relationship. “Are…you glad?”
“Of course.” He squeezes my hand and we both chuckle.
“But did you mean what you said to Signore Delluomo? That you, um…”
Pinocchio bites his lip and seems to ponder it for a beat. Then, he turns those perfect brown eyes at me. “Lampwick, I do love you.” My breath freezes in my throat. “I think part of me has loved you since we were kids. And I don’t intend to love anyone else this way for the rest of my days.”
I stroke his cheek, overwhelmed with elation and gratitude. My best friend loves me, and I get to love him back with all my heart for everyone in Tuscany to see.
“You, uh…You don’t have to say it…” He bites his lip and looks away.
I snicker. “I love you, too, Sticks. I have for a really long time.”
“For real?”
“Yes!” We both laugh and I pull him into a tight embrace. When I let go, we resume kissing, hearts intertwining here on the couch. After not long enough, my trousers get tight again, and I want to propose he and I celebrate the holiday a different way.
He pulls off and, through a heavy breath, he says, “I think a bath is in order.”
My eyebrows scrunch. “Um, I bathed yesterday, but okay.” I sniff my armpits. “I can go first, then you—”
“No, silly.” We both laugh and he squeezes my shoulder. “I want to…you know…” He rolls his head and looks around.
“Huh?”
He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Let’s go bathe together. And I can show you exactly how much I love you.”
Ten minutes later, we’re naked, standing outside the outhouse. No one can see our yard, so it truly is only us in this tiny corner of the world. The sun has almost completely set, and the wintry air nips at my naked skin. I shiver, but from nerves or the cold, I’m not sure. I clap my hands and try not to stare at my boyfriend on my left. I want Pinocchio to take the lead, to go at his pace. But I can’t hide my excited anticipation—it literally juts out in front of me, getting harder and longer by the second.
“So…” I bounce on my toes in nervousness.
Pinocchio snickers and guides me by the hand inside our bathroom. It doesn’t smell so bad, and I’m reminded of that day weeks ago when I let him watch me bathe. Deep down, I knew I wanted Pinocchio to be into me, but I didn’t think he’d ever love me. Now, here together, we’re going to do…something.
He keeps the door open as he pumps the water into the tub. The warm steam does little to combat the cold air, not that I mind. I take only two fleeting seconds to check out his ass as he leans over to gather water. Those two firm globes are divine, and I realize I’ve never worshipped his backside. What kind of boyfriend am I? I envision grabbing on to it and sinking my hardness in it. That mere fantasy has my cock swelling even further.
“Are you simply gonna stand there and stare at it?”
I look to see Pinocchio smirking. He’s done filling up the tub, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s posing for me. His leg is hiked up, and his pucker is exposed.
“Wha…what?”
He sniggers and rolls his eyes. “Allow me to make things easier,” he purrs. He reaches for the soap and lathers his right hand in the water. Then, in a dangerously erotic maneuver, he slowly brings water back to his backside. Soapy liquid slides down his crack, and I can’t even breathe. All my deepest carnal instincts are asking me to thrust forward. I idly play with my cock as he pours more water onto himself, perfectly cleansing his hole.
“S…Sticks…”
“Please, Lampwick.” He huffs and cranes his neck to look at me. “I want you…”
My throat has gone dry and my gaze flits between his smoldering eyes and his round glutes. “You…want me to uh…what?”
He snickers. “Please.” He fingers himself and spreads his legs further. “Please give me this Christmas gift. I love you, so…please, make love to me, Lampwick.”
My eyebrows may never go down. And neither will my cock, but I’m willing to try.
I crowd his space and lean over to kiss his muscled back. Carpentry does the body good, and there’s no further proof than Pinocchio’s chiseled torso—or his sculpted ass.
The same ass I am now lining my cock up against.
“You want me?”
“Yes,” he rasps.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” I murmur.
“Okay,” he replies, breathlessly. He moves backward with an impatient grin.
I titter and kiss his back one last time. “More soap,” I command.
“Yes,” he whispers. As instructed, he cups more soapy water with his hand and splashes it down his crack. I swiftly grab some suds and water and drench my hardness. Then, I’m lining myself against his hole. With one hand on his hip and one on his shoulder, I push forward.
“Fu…fuh…. fuck ,” he says in a whine. Pinocchio swearing has always driven me wild, and this time, I know I caused it.
Because I’m inside him. Holy heavens, I’m inside my best friend, the love of my life.
The soapy water makes for an easy ride. I breach his hole with very little resistance. My cock is so hard I could chop wood—a funny turn of phrase considering my no-strings friend.
“Oh fuck,” he rasps again.
“Oh… ohyou’resogoodbaby ,” I mutter through gritted teeth. I grip his hip harder and push further. The pleasure flies up and down my spine, and I’ve barely gotten started. I ease forward until my balls touch his skin, then pull back. I’m glad that the soapy water seems to have cleaned him inside and out, but even if he made a mess on my cock, I wouldn’t care.
“Oh, I love you, Lampwick.” He sighs and that triggers a primal instinct in me. I need this man. I need to claim him, to breed him, to do all the things inside him.
“Fuck, yes,” I hiss, pulling back.
“Fuck me,” he whines, gripping the bathtub.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth. Fortunately, the tub and the floor are dry, making for a perfect grip. I hold on to Pinocchio’s hip and shoulder and thrust in hard. “Like that?” I growl.
“Oh dio mio , yes.”
“Say you’re mine,” I hiss. I pull back and thrust in, rewarding me with more delicious pleasure between my thighs.
“I’m yours.” His voice is a high whine, and I notice him grab his own hardness.
“You’re always mine—” I pull back and thrust forward—“And I’m always yours.”
“Forever…ah!” He hisses, a mixture of pleasure and pain.
“I love you, and you’re mine,” I say with a growl. I thrust and thrust, and we both grunt and hiss. We mutter obscenities and declarations of love, all of which are true. The sounds of water and skins splashing together fill the outhouse on this perfect Christmas night. He takes a few moments to pour more water down his back, lubricating me even further. Those breaks don’t take long, and each time, I’m back to fucking him with passion.
Minutes later, that familiar tingle begins. “Pinocchio, I’m…” I drill into him without stopping. “Pinocchio…” My hands dig into his hips.
“Yes, yes, give it to me, Lampwick,” he says breathlessly. He works his own hardness, and the beautiful sight has me breathing harder.
“Fuck,” I grunt.
“Fuck, I love you, Lampwick. I’m yours, always. My best friend, my lover…” His words are making me dizzy, and I fuck him faster. “My soulmate, forever,” he says in a high whine.
His confession is a lit match to the oil of my soul. The words trigger my ultimate pleasure, and I fuck him even faster. Then, I let it out, freezing up as my balls unleash deep inside him.
“Oh…oh!” He clenches around me, and the sensation makes me clamp my eyes shut. I can see it in my mind, his orgasm, as I pound inside him.
After the sexual waves subside, I lie on his porcelain back. We both laugh in euphoria, and I gently kiss his neck. “That…was everything,” I say, catching my breath.
“It sure was,” he replies, breathlessly.
We spend the next twenty minutes actually cleaning up. Since the outhouse isn’t made for cuddling, we towel off and get our sleeping trousers on. A single candle illuminates his bedroom. Once inside, we cuddle on my floor bed with a thin sheet over us. With no shirts, my chest touches his back as I spoon him. The dizziness of lovemaking has us both drowsy, even though we still need to eat supper. After all, Geppetto will be back in a couple of hours.
“We are so doing that again,” he murmurs.
“I was just thinking that,” I whisper. We’re both in a giggle fit, and I hold him tighter. “I love you, Sticks,” I say.
“I love you, Lampo.”
“Um…” Hearing my anxiety, he turns to look at me.
“What?”
“My, uh…” I clear my throat. “You should know…my real name is Romeo.”
“What?!” he yelps.
I give him a sheepish smile. “Everyone called me Lucignolo my whole life because I looked skinny, with red hair, like a wick, so….Lucignolo, then Lampwick, all stuck.” I shrug. “So, uh…you need to know I’m Romeo Lucignolo Lampwick Scorfano.”
“You weirdo!” He points at me and we’re both laughing and cuddling. “You didn’t think to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now!” I say through a chuckle.
“I want to spend the rest of my life as your soulmate and you’re keeping secrets from me, Romeo ?!”
My laughter dies in my throat, and Pinocchio calms down. “Did you…” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Did you mean that? Being my soulmate?”
He nods, eyes glimmering in the near darkness. “I’ve spent most of my life being happy with you by my side, or wishing to be with you. So yes.” He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I don’t want to build a future without you. I want to grow old with you, Romeo.”
I snicker and lean forward catching his sweet lips. “You’re my soulmate too, Pinocchio. And please, it’s Lampwick.”
“Lampwick and the no strings friend,” he says with a smirk.
I chuckle and hold him close. “With you, I want all the strings,” I reply. “I love you, Pinocchio.”
“I love you more, Lampwick.” With that, we fall asleep, planning to wake up before Geppetto gets home. It’s the perfect way to end a perfect holiday.