Chapter 28
Austin
Waking up wrapped around Luca has got to be my favorite thing in the world. Sure, it’s nothing new. Every morning, either I’m wrapped around him or he’s lying sprawled across my body, but still.
Untangling my arm from around his waist, I run my fingers through his knotted mess of hair. I can’t believe we’re here. I can’t believe I told him I love him, and I also can’t believe how much he trusted in that.
In some ways, this feels like before. I don’t think I had feelings for Luca like this when we were younger, but I could have. If he had stayed. If he had come back. If I had let myself look past how fun it was to get off with another person and not just my hand.
But I’m thankful that it happened now. I’m no longer a fumbling sixteen-year-old worried about getting off and having a good time.
I’m a grown man with lived experience and a heart hell-bent on making the man I love feel every single bit of care and pleasure he deserves.
Which, as it turns out, is a whole hell of a lot.
I’ve never been a selfish lover, not really.
But Luca? He brings out something entirely new in me.
I want to ruin him and blow his mind and change his worldview.
I want to leave him tingling and gasping and wondering what plane of existence he’s landed on.
It’s honestly more important to me than any orgasm I could have.
Luca lets out a little sigh, rolling in my arms until his face is pressed to my chest and his head is tucked under my chin. There’s something so special about this. About the trust he has in me. Trust that I have no intention of fucking up or losing.
I close my eyes, soaking it all in—the warmth of his skin, the scratch of his leg hair, the press of his half-hard cock against my thigh.
He wakes up slowly, his breathing changing until I can tell he’s more awake than asleep. He tips his head back, and I open my eyes, glancing down in time to see a slow, sweet smile spread across his face.
“Mornin’,” he mumbles, peering at me through sleepy gray eyes.
“Good morning.”
His smile grows, and I can’t resist leaning in to kiss him. I cup his chin, pressing kiss after kiss to his warm lips. I get away with it too. At least for a minute, but then he’s blocking me with a hand over his mouth. “Let me brush my teeth, and we can come back to this.”
I really couldn’t care less about that, but before I have a chance to tell him, he’s vaulting off the bed and rushing into the bathroom. Throwing the blankets off myself, I chuckle as I go after him.
Luca’s standing in front of the mirror, and when I come in behind him, his eyes find mine in the reflection. He smiles around his toothbrush, foam dripping onto his chin.
Stepping up beside him, I grab my toothbrush and join him. He bumps me with his hip, so I bump his back, unable to wipe my smile away when he chuckles under his breath. I love seeing him so happy and playful.
All I know is that I’m dying to have him back in bed as soon as possible. It’s freezing, and I should probably go build a fire, but I’d much prefer to warm up together under the covers.
Like he can read my thoughts, Luca shivers, then spits his mouthful of toothpaste out. “I’m freezing.”
I follow suit. “Me too. Back to bed?”
The pure fucking joy in his laughter makes my breath catch. “Perfect.”
He turns his head to smile at me, and in the reflection, I catch sight of something on his throat. “Luca,” I breathe, grabbing his chin between my thumb and finger and turning his head so I can see.
My stomach falls to my feet, regret flooding my entire body at the sight of a deep hickey marring his throat. I don’t even remember leaving it. I can’t believe I wasn’t more careful. He hated having marks on him. Hated it. “Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.”
He cocks his head in confusion, wiggling out of my hold to face the mirror. He turns his head to the side, and his eyes widen when he sees what I’m apologizing for.
I watch in horror, my throat so tight I have no hope of speaking. His throat works hard as he stares at himself, then he brings a hand up slowly, running a finger along the bruise.
“Oh,” he whispers, eyes glued to the spot.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, my chest threatening to cave in on me. “Are you okay? I really didn’t mean to. I know that’s no excuse, but I—” I cut myself off because really, what defense is there?
He nods, eyes still glued to the dark hickey. It’s fascinating in a way, how hard he’s studying it. For a long, tense moment, he doesn’t move, and dread churns through my bloodstream.
When his eyes find mine in the mirror, his blown pupils almost bowl me over. “Luca?” I croak.
“It’s…” He looks back at himself again, grazing a finger over it once more. “I like it,” he whispers.
I’m stunned. “What?”
He turns, and when he does, it’s easy to see just how much he means those words. He steps toward me, molding himself to my body and pressing his cock against my thigh. “It’s okay?” I ask, feeling stupid for needing the reassurance.
“I want more.”
It takes a second to process his words, and when I do, I’m not sure I heard him right. I grip his arm gently, pushing him back so I can look at his face. “You want more?”
He blinks up at me, lust and desire swimming in his eyes. There’s really something to be said for that look, for the way his eyes are heavy-lidded, boring into mine. “Yeah…” The word is only a breath, disappearing between us the second he says it. “I want to be covered in your marks.”
He doesn’t even give me a chance to answer before he’s turning back to the mirror, studying his throat again.
“I used to be ashamed,” he whispers. “Every mark Damien left on my skin was proof. Proof that I wasn’t good enough. That something was wrong with me. That I deserved pain and punishment.” He takes a slow, even breath. “It was proof of his hatred for me, and even worse… of my hatred of myself.”
He finds my eyes in the mirror. “Each mark was proof, Austin. That my body had become a shrine—an altar—to his rage. And to my shame.”
“This, though?” He stares at the mark, then turns to look at me. “This is like… fuck, I don’t know. It’s a different kind of proof. I want more,” he repeats. “I want to be covered in your marks. I want the memory of your touch to live on me. I want to see the proof in the mirror. New proof.”
“Proof of what?” I choke out, my throat so tight I can hardly speak.
Luca takes a step toward me, closing in on my space. “Your love.”
My love.
“I’ve been a shrine to ugly things, Austin. Now I want to be a shrine to you.”
I wrap an arm around his waist, dragging him in until he’s flush against my body. “Tell me exactly what you want, baby.”
He lets his head fall back, exposing the long column of his throat to me. “I want you to mark me. With your mouth and your teeth. I want to replace the memory of my shame with love instead. Your love.”
God, I want that too. Not even just because it turns me on, although it does, but because I want to give him what he wants.
I want to give him anything he wants. Always.
From now until the end of time. I dip my head, dragging my nose along the spot I left on his throat.
“I want to take my time with you,” I whisper. “Go get back in bed, okay?”
For a second, he doesn’t move, but I don’t need to be looking at him to know it’s not hesitance because he’s afraid. He’s not moving because he doesn’t want to. He wants to linger. I know it like I know my own name, and I feel the same way.
So instead of asking him to move or rushing him along, I take a few minutes to lave my tongue over the mark on his throat, to kiss it and him. I slide my fingers into his hair, cradling the side of his head as he whimpers into my mouth.
When he pulls away, he smiles at me, then slips past me and into the bedroom. I give myself a few moments to breathe. This feels monumental. Luca is trusting me with something precious, and I have no desire to fuck it up. The amount of trust he’s giving me is… fuck. I just don’t want to mess it up.
When I’ve collected myself, I step into the bedroom to find Luca lying on his back in the center of the bed, his cock hard and flushed against his stomach.
I truly have no idea how I got this lucky. How I was so blessed to have him. I must have done something really fucking good in a past life.
I crawl over him, holding my weight off his body with a hand braced on either side of his head. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “I’m sure.”
I search his face, but there’s nothing but want and anticipation. “We can stop anytime. Tell me you know that.”
A breathtaking smile spreads across his lips. “I know.”
Fuck. I should probably start small, right? I lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. Then I turn his head to the side and brush his throat with my jaw, letting my stubble scrape over his smooth skin.
He inhales sharply but doesn’t do anything else, so I repeat the motion.
When I pull back, his throat is already red and raw with beard burn.
It’s kind of hot to see the mark on him; I can’t even lie.
I settle my lips over the skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the area that has him panting and arching toward me.
I suck lightly. Not enough to leave a dark mark, but just enough that his skin is pink and wet from my mouth. I do it again, a little harder, not letting go until he lets out a keening moan.
This time, it’s darker, blooming deep against his flawless skin.
“More,” he breathes quietly.
I leave another, then another, not stopping until he’s breathing hard and squirming. When I look, I’ve covered his throat in a mosaic of my marks. Some are darker than others, but all of them are mine.
Not from pain, but from pleasure. Not from hate or anger, but from love and tenderness. And judging by the way he’s shivering and trying to rub his dick against me, he’s not feeling shame.
I dive back in, sucking and nipping at his collarbone and the junction of his throat. He whimpers, and I pause, ready to pull away when he tangles his fingers in my hair and holds me in place. “Bite me,” he groans, trying to force my head back down.
My cock jerks at the breathy, raw tone of his voice, and I oblige, sinking my teeth into the tender flesh. Not enough to break the skin, but enough that he feels it. He gasps and shivers, his hand trembling where it’s gripping my hair. “Oh God. More, Austin. More.”
Holy hell. I don’t even know how I’m still hanging on, but I’m willing to give him anything, so I keep going. I slowly work my way down his body, leaving careful bite marks and deep bruises across his chest and torso, then his waistline.
His hips come off the bed, his cock straining and leaking.
I close my hand around it, giving it a firm stroke as he damn near sobs.
I release his cock, lifting his leg and wrapping it around my shoulder before taking him in my hand again.
I nibble on the skin of his inner thighs, breathing in the heady scent of him.
He jerks and moans, thrusting into my hand.
“Fuck, Luc,” I whisper against his skin. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”
He moans, rocking his hips again as his pre-cum wets my hand. “Keep going,” he groans.
“Can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” I murmur, biting his thigh hard enough to leave an imprint of my teeth, then another and another—almost feral with the need coursing through my body.
He shivers. “Yeah, like that.” His trembling hands land on my head. “Do it again.”
I bite down again, harder this time, and he moans, his body almost convulsing. It’s too fucking much. My hips take on a mind of their own, and I grind against the bed, dying for relief. I seal my lips over his skin and suck hard, hollowing my cheeks and flicking my tongue over his overheated skin.
I lift myself enough to leave another deep bruise on his hip. “Feel that?” I whisper, breath ragged against his skin. “That’s mine. You’re mine.”