Chapter 8 #8
I shake my head. It’s unbearable. Maddening. And of course, he stops. His hand stills, then slowly pulls away.
I look up at him. "What, why did you stop?"
Gio opens his mouth to answer and I don’t even let him.
"Actually, wait." I can’t do this halfway anymore. I swear to God, I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t do it.
"Gio," I say, quieter now. "Let’s have sex."
I say it. And no, I don’t regret it. Not even a little. I need it. I’ve reached this humiliating, feral point where holding it in hurts more than saying it.
Where my body already makes the decision weeks ago and my mouth is just catching up. A tiny sound slips from his throat, surprised. He covers his mouth fast, and he pulls back from me. We both go still.
Up above, footsteps.
"Strange tide today," says that man, echoing slightly against the rock. The guy from the meeting. He’s right above us, talking to himself. I’m so fucking scared right now.
"Should’ve brought a damn hat…"
Gio breathes through his nose, eyes locked on mine, like he’s afraid even blinking will make a sound. I’m still panting from what almost happens. I’m going to die.
I’m going to pass out right here in the water from panic and arousal and shame and everything. I close my eyes.
Please go away. I hear footsteps, then silence. I open my eyes and see Gio very slowly lifting his head. He peeks around the rock. Nothing. Empty.
He exhales sharply, then turns to me.
His hand grabs mine fast.
"Let’s move," he says. We push out from under the overhang, swimming fast, kicking up water everywhere.
We scramble for our towels and bags, grabbing clothes with slippery fingers. My pulse is still erratic, everything in me soaked and on edge.
We run.
49) Can You Draw Me?
Rava
We stumble out of the bathroom both soaking wet.
Everything’s super foggy. I’m half blind as I grab a towel and start rubbing it through my hair, trying to get the worst of it out so he won’t complain later that I’m getting the bed wet.
Gio doesn’t even try.
He just collapses face-first on the mattress. Shirtless.
He stretches out like a sun-drenched animal. I tear my gaze away. There’s this tiny, annoying weight sitting in my chest.
I feel a bit… embarrassed. Because I never get an answer.
Did he even hear me in there?
When I told him I want to have sex?
Did he hear and decided to ignore it?
Did he hear and think nope and just… change the subject?
I have no idea. And it’s killing me not to ask. I want to ask so many things.
Did you hear me?
Do you want me too?
Did I overstep?
Am I reading this wrong?
But if I ask and he says no, I’ll want the ground to open and swallow me whole. The truth is I do want to sleep with him. Not because I just want to cum, I can do that alone, no problem, zero help needed.
It’s not about that. I just want him… as close as possible. Now that I can. Now that we’re alone, no family, no meetings, no eyes watching us. It’s perfect.
He yawns. "Wonder where Lorenzo ended up."
I drop the towel from my head. "Probably in the middle of some orgy with six horny Spaniards."
Gio laughs. I don’t. He could’ve been out there too.
Instead, he’s here. Locked in this quiet hotel room with me. I suddenly feel like I’m keeping him prisoner.
Like I dragged him away from the world and trapped him in this soft moment he never asked for. He could be out there flirting, dancing, doing shots off someone’s stomach, doing whatever Gio does when everyone is watching.
But he’s not.
And some selfish, ugly part of me is glad. The rest of me feels guilty as hell about it.
"Do you…" I start, then stop.
He turns his head lazily toward me. "Do I what?"
I sit at the edge of the bed, facing away from him. "Do you feel like you’re missing out? That you could be out there, like Lorenzo, doing whatever you want, instead of being here. With me. Wasting time. When I’m not even staying…"
I trail off and lie back with a sigh, folding an arm over my eyes. I want to melt into the mattress.
"You think this is a waste of time?"
I snap my head up fast.
A waste of time… If only he knew. If he had any idea. These are my favorite days.
His expression isn’t angry. It’s… wounded.
"No," I say, too fast. "No. I didn’t mean it like that." I turn toward him fully now. "I just meant… I’m sorry if you feel stuck. Because I don’t. I wish it didn’t have to end. I wish I could—"
He’s already moving. His hand finds mine. He squeezes. "There’s nothing else I want right now, Ravioli," he says.
His voice is so certain it makes me want to cry. "They could tell me to stay in a room and not move for the rest of the trip, as long as you’re in that room too? I’d pick that. Every time."
We both freeze. Mostly him.
"I mean—I really like spending time with you. A lot. That’s what I meant."
Bitter, Gio. But same.
Before I can overthink it, I walk over and kiss him. He laughs against my lips, immediately gripping my neck, pulling me closer. I chuckle against his. "Damn. I ruined you."
He laughs. "More like you fixed me." He kisses me again, smiling. Something shifts.
I feel it. The kiss isn’t just "haha Spain vacation, enemies to something."
It’s… hungrier.
It feels like we’re both saying it without words, "Yeah. I want more than just this."
He must feel it too. I can see it in his expression when we break apart for a second. He looks at me like we just cross another invisible line together.
Then he leans in again. His lips are now brushing over my throat, so softly I almost doubt it’s happening. He kisses a little lower, at the base of my neck.
Then my chest.
Then the curve of my shoulder.
His hand rests over the other side of my chest. He watches me. He’s checking. Waiting for the tiniest sign I want him to stop.
I don’t give him one. I don’t want him to stop. His hand’s at the waistband of my sweats.
"Should I keep going?"
Jesus.
I should be nervous. I should be overthinking this. Why am I not overthinking this?
"You don’t need to ask."
He pauses. "I do. Trust me. Should I keep going?" he asks again.
"Yeah. Keep going." And he does. In one smooth motion, he tugs everything down.
I’m half naked, again. It should feel awkward but it doesn’t. I’m too busy trying to figure out how the hell I’m this okay with it. I’m not just okay. I’m calm.
Maybe it’s because it’s him. Or maybe it’s because I want it so bad it’s tipping into need. His hands settle on my thighs. He shifts between them and my legs open a little.
Okay, yeah, there’s a tiny flicker of panic, but not the bad kind. It’s not fear, it’s more ‘like holy shit this is really happening and I have no idea what I’m doing but I wanna know.’
I wanna know what it feels like.
I wanna know what he feels like.
"You good?" he murmurs.
I nod. Then I shake my head. "No. I mean—yes. Yes, I’m very good. Just a bit nervous."
He smiles. "I’ve got you," he says. "You trust me?"
I answer without thinking. "Yes."
His hand slides lower between my thighs. I spread them more, instinctive, like I’m giving him something.
Like I want to be opened. Because I do. My heart is a mess in my chest.
I’ve never done this. Never even touch myself like that.
Not there.
It always felt… too much. Too intimate. Too foreign. But now, with him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
He leans down and kisses me, soft at first, then deeper. His tongue touches mine and it distracts me just enough that when his fingers finally slip lower, between my cheeks, I gasp into his mouth.
He pulls back just enough to watch me. "You okay?"
My voice is thin. "Yeah. Just… go on."
He chuckles. I smile. He grabs the lube.
Why the hell did he even bring lube to Spain? I have no idea. But I’m so glad he did. Because now his fingers are slick and I can’t stop staring.
It’s stupid. It shouldn’t turn me on this much. But it does. It makes my dick even more hard than it already is. I’m twitching. Literally. And he notices.
His eyes flick up with that look that says yeah, I saw that.
Well. At least now he knows I want this. No room for second guesses. My whole body’s basically screaming it. And he hasn’t even touched me yet.
"You tell me to stop, I stop. Understand?"
I nod. Way too fast. He smirks but doesn’t tease me this time. He kisses me right as the first finger slides in.
I kiss him back automatically, trying to distract myself from the stretch. But then I smile against his mouth.
I don’t even know why. It’s not funny. Gio kisses my cheek, my neck.
"Breathe, Rava. Just breathe. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want."
I nod, holding his shoulder, grounding myself. "I want this."
"You’re sure?"
"Yes."
His finger slides back in. I gasp. My lips part on instinct, and a soft moan slips out before I can catch it. He hums against my mouth.
"I can feel you loosening up," he murmurs. "You’re taking it good."
Another finger. He kisses me again. He’s pushing in, curling.
Again. And again. And again.
My eyes snap open. My hands fly up and latch around his neck. I press my face into his skin to muffle the sound that almost breaks out of me.
He finds the spot. Fuck. He knows he finds it. And he doesn’t let up.
His breath hits my ear, "There you go."
I squeeze my eyes shut. Not because it hurts. Because fuck, it’s starting to feel good.
"That’s it," he whispers. "You’re doing so good."
I moan again. I don’t even try to stop it. "Holy shit," I breathe.
"That feels…"
He waits.
"…weird. But good."
He grins. He kisses my chest. My stomach.
And keeps moving. "You feel so good," he murmurs.
"Gio…"
"Hm?"
I stare up at the ceiling, trying to find air.
"Can I—can we do more?"
He stills. Pulls up enough to see my face. "You still want to?"
"Yes."
He swallows. His voice lowers. "Rava. You can’t imagine how much I want it too. Right now. How many times I’ve thought about it. Probably every goddamn hour since I met you."
My heart could fall apart.