Chapter Twenty-Three #2
The room door isn’t even shut before Dario is tearing off his suit.
Gabriele will be mad that he was careless with such luxe fabric, but his desire is practically scorching through the threads anyway.
Having conquered some of his agoraphobia, he feels invincible, like he could bench-press a car or leap off the terrace and fly.
But first— “Go soak for a bit while I freshen up,” Dario says. Under the sink, he left his toiletries. He plans to be squeaky clean for the first time he takes all of Charlie Moore inside him.
Charlie smirks at this, shucking his pants and striding toward the door. “Take your time, Candy Man.” His cock is already rustling to attention. Growing longer by the second.
Dario shuts himself in the bathroom, looks himself over in the mirror, and takes a moment to pat himself on the back.
He is here. In a new town. With a gorgeous man.
And he did not have a single, full-blown panic attack.
There were a couple close calls, but each time he stopped, took a few breaths and reminded himself that he was safe.
Turns out, if he works with his mind instead of against it, sometimes it cooperates.
Twenty minutes later, Dario slides the back door open and steps out into the night in nothing but his birthday suit. Fitting, given that his birthday is approaching like a high-speed train. Only now it’s one he’s happy to ride, which is the same way he feels about riding Charlie Moore.
Charlie sits in the hot tub. His newly tattooed arm is resting on the edge. The bubbling water obscures the view of his lap, but there’s no mistaking the small pull he does with his arm when he sees Dario naked. “Where’s your suit?”
“I didn’t pack it.” Dario beams.
“I thought you preferred to be clothed.”
“I thought I’d never spend the night outside Montecolognola again. Things change. You’ve changed me, Charlie. Now I want you to fuck me,” he says, displaying confidence that rivals even Selina’s.
The air thrums with music. In the distance, the festival rolls on. Drums pound and electric guitars wobble, then suddenly an entire horn section wails with pulsating abandon. All good sex needs a soundtrack.
Charlie pulls himself up. His body glistens with droplets of water. Some cling to the length of his astoundingly erect cock. Charlie reaches for his towel, but Dario stops him, drops to his knees on the tile, and licks the underside of Charlie’s shaft.
“Out here?” Charlie asks, head swiveling around.
“Nobody can see us up here. It’s the only panoramic view in the village, remember?” Dario says. “Is that okay with you?”
Charlie audibly swallows before saying, “Yeah, it’s okay.” Dario twirls his tongue around the shiny head of Charlie’s cock. “Oh, it’s more than okay, Candy Man.”
The pet name causes Dario’s dick to swell, and he initiates long licks up and down Charlie’s impressive length. He doesn’t even mind the chemical taste from the hot tub water. He’s too focused on pleasing this man whose patience and kindness have helped him so much over the last several days.
Dario straightens up into the press of Charlie’s fingers as they roam through his hair, moving it off his face and behind his ears.
A night breeze sweeps across Dario’s blazing cheeks.
His eyes tilt up to Charlie’s face. He dissects each twitch of pleasure, each flicker of gratification.
Bracketed in by Charlie’s tattoo-speckled thighs, he lets himself go and engorges himself on every inch of Charlie’s shaft.
Given its slight downward curve, it eases past the back of his throat.
Dario ignores his triggered gag reflex and his watery eyes. He holds himself there, embracing the elasticity of his lips and the gentle tickle of Charlie’s leg hair against his ears.
Once this trip ends, Charlie goes back to the States to talk with his family and give his job notice. Dario returns to the factory and to his interim duties before flying out to join Charlie and convince the Moores to be his in-laws.
The very idea of stepping foot on a plane, leaving Italy, should send him careening into a never-ending canyon of anxiety, but he pumps the brakes on that part of his brain. Tonight is about taking back his life.
Tonight is about taking Charlie Moore to the hilt.
He guides Charlie over to the lounger beside the hot tub. Stepping over, Dario positions himself above Charlie, then looks down, ready for landing.
“Shouldn’t we—” Charlie begins to ask. While he’d love to let Charlie toy around with his hole with his fingers and his tongue sometime, that’s not what he needs right now. Right now, he wants to skip the aperitivo and get right to the main course.
“I’m ready for you,” Dario says. He checked and double-checked in the bathroom with a toy and lube. His hole is wet, pliable, and more eager than ever before. Charlie’s cock is slick with his spit. Slippery in all the right ways.
Like the abandoned hotel elevator from earlier, Dario’s descent is a slow one. Not by design, but by necessity. Charlie holds the base of his cock firm and upright as Dario takes all the time he needs to line himself up just right. The mouth stretch was easy. The hole stretch takes more patience.
Little by little, his body acclimates to Charlie. Lets him in.
Wasn’t this whole contest about letting people in?
Fuck. He nailed it.
And Charlie is going to nail him.
Charlie’s micro gasps become background vocals to the jump blues singer belting an up-tempo swing number in the distance.
A joy bomb goes off in Dario’s pelvis when he reaches the base.
An utter explosion of sensation speeds through his body.
He has done this before but never has it felt this way.
Like someone realized the painted-over switch on the wall isn’t just for show and flicked it on, powering up a second generator nobody knew about.
Energy courses through Dario with unthinkable pace.
He places his palms on Charlie’s bare chest, arches his back and starts to bounce.
Charlie clutches his hips. Nails dig into his flesh the way the tattoo needle did. The pierce of them only incites him to ride harder.
Charlie goes to speak but Dario stops him with a finger that he slides between Charlie’s teeth.
Charlie closes his lips around that finger and sucks on it, pokes his tongue out and licks into the cleft.
Every time he surprises Dario with more vigor, Dario adds another finger.
Four fingers in, he curls over his knuckle and holds on to the back of Charlie’s teeth as leverage, like they’re reins, and he rolls his hips forward and back. The muscles of Charlie’s stomach spasm.
Tightening his grip on Charlie’s cock, he pitches forward, removes his hand and kisses Charlie hard on the mouth. There’s a primal hunger in it, like they’ve both discovered something predestined in their DNA.
As Dario bucks back, Charlie rears up to meet the thrusts. The opposing forces slam Dario’s prostate, filling his body with thousands of popping candies. Snap. Bang. Pow.
When he grows tired of standing on his feet, he rests his knees on the sagging fabric chair.
Charlie sits up and scoops Dario into his arms. In a feat of impressive flexibility and strength, he rolls up and sets Dario on his back, cock never leaving its cozy burrow inside Dario’s ass.
The experience is dizzying, but he stays along for the ride.
Charlie tunnels down, pounding him out almost in time to the far-off, pulsating music. The stars twinkle above them. None are as bright or as alluring as Charlie’s eyes.
Dario yelps in pleasure. Charlie hooks his elbows around Dario’s knees, drawing him closer as he plunges away, which pushes Dario into total-bliss territory.
Drunk with pleasure, Dario pulls the skin back on the head of his uncut cock and teases himself, picks up a drop of precum on his pointer finger and feeds it to Charlie as fuel for more fucking.
Faster fucking. Full-of-feelings fucking.
Dario half wishes Craig were still around to capture this on his professional camera.
They could direct and star in the world’s most scintillating porno.
A clip that would break the internet. A clip Dario would rewatch repeatedly when horny with a desire to step back inside of the memory.
Instead, he’ll have to settle on storing this away in his mind for rainy days with his right hand.
Charlie loses steam, wiping a sheen of sweat off his forehead. “I need a small break, Candy Man.”
Dario feels the loss as soon as Charlie pulls out. His lube-slick cock shines in the light. “Take a break. I want to have you for the long haul.”
As these words clear his mouth, he can’t deny their validity, nor can he deny that they stand for more than just tonight, this session.
Two weeks of Charlie Moore would never be enough.
He wants his body to be Charlie’s sexual outlet and second tattoo canvas.
He wants his heart to be Charlie’s place to call home.
He wants his literal home, Villa Meraviglia, to hold Charlie’s belongings.
But not just his belongings—the sketchpads and Nike socks and hair dye.
But also his laugh and his mischief and his stories.
One day, potentially, his family members—should they be willing to move across the world.
The romance of it all is a lost Caravaggio masterpiece found in the dusty vault of Dario’s heart set out on a museum display. He can see it so clearly now for both its light and its shadow.
“I need you inside me again,” Dario says not even five minutes later. His erection rages on, and the beauty of his home country works its magic on him. Charlie smiles as he sets down his water glass and meets Dario over at the terrace ledge.
Dario turns to the railing, gazes out at the lake and bends slightly at the waist. Charlie enters him again. His gasp at the sudden impalement gets stolen by the night. He grips the warm iron bar as Charlie ramps back up to speed.
Charlie pulls him close by the sensitive underside of his neck then runs his tongue along the nape of it, tasting the sweat collecting there.
Dario twists his head so they can kiss in the moonlight.
Shadows cover half of Charlie’s face, and still, it’s the handsomest face he’s ever beheld.
The world blurs from the constant push and retreat of Charlie’s cock in his ass.
“I want you to fill me, Charlie,” Dario eggs on. “Leave me dripping. Unload inside me.”
“Okay, Candy Man. Any second now you’ll get your filling.”
The silliest of sentences can be the sexiest when lost in the hedge maze of amazing sex. Dario’s cheeks and Charlie’s balls clap together, echoing in the night, like premature applause for a set that hasn’t ended yet.
Dario jerks his own cock in his hand, tension mounting. “I’m right there,” he whispers in exquisite agony.
“I’m right there with you.” Charlie groans deep, plunges deeper.
Charlie crosses the finish line first. The hot expulsion rippling through Dario prompts an exceptional orgasm of his own. Quivering and legs nearly giving out, he spills all over the tile on the terrace as Charlie pumps one final time inside him.
The musicians playing at the fortress conclude their set to a thunderous reception. Cheers crackle through the night, giving way to chants of “Encore! Encore!” Charlie leans in and whispers, “If they insist…”
Dario bites his lip and gears up for another round.