Chapter 10 #2
He’d tried not to dwell on the fact that whatever this was between them had a time limit, but at moments like this, it was hard not to resent it.
It was so fucking unfair that he’d finally found someone he couldn’t get enough of, and they lived on the opposite side of the country.
Oliver didn’t even bother thinking about the possibility that Luca might move here.
His whole life, his business, and his family, who he clearly loved, were all back in California.
There was no point in even thinking about it, because nothing was going to change.
Enjoy this moment, because it’s all you’re gonna get.
“You alright?” Luca asked.
Oliver shook off his sudden melancholy, realized that Luca had been talking to him the whole time, as Oliver’s chef knife had flashed and decimated a whole container of mushrooms, two shallots and several cloves of garlic.
Whether Luca cooked often for himself or not, he had exceptional knife skills.
Oliver’s surprise must’ve shown on his face, because Luca said, “My Nonna never would’ve tolerated if we didn’t know how to chop properly.”
“Of course,” Oliver said, dredging up a smile. “Come here.”
“But—”
Oliver reached out a hand and hooked it around Luca’s waist. The kitchen really wasn’t that big, and that made reeling him in possible. Made it possible to tug him closer, then frame Luca’s face with his hands and kiss him.
The sudden rush of anticipated pleasure was almost enough to lose the rest of his bitterness. You can have this now.
And so he did. He kissed Luca sweet and hard and a million shades in between and reminded himself that he was living in the moment.
Not in the future.
When Oliver finally lifted his mouth off Luca’s, his eyes were glazed over and unfocused.
“What was that for?” Luca asked, voice low and rough.
“Because I could,” Oliver said. Which was truth enough.
“Do you . . .” Luca hesitated.
“Want to go to bed now?” Oliver asked the question and then considered it. He hadn’t kissed Luca for that reason, but there was no denying the arousal thrumming through his veins, or his hard cock, straining against the zipper of his jeans.
He definitely wanted him.
But anticipation was part of the pleasure too, and they were grownups, weren’t they? Surely, they could sit through making dinner and eating it, first.
“We . . .uh . . .we can have dinner. We should have dinner.”
Oliver told himself he wasn’t disappointed as Luca turned back toward the stove, but he could see the tight line of his back through the cotton fabric of his T-shirt and Oliver had a feeling he wouldn’t be the only one struggling to focus on what they should be doing, instead of what they wanted to do.
You’re going to make the filling, then the sauce, then roll out the dough, and you’re going to make raviolis so good the angels would weep, Luca told himself forcibly as he turned toward the stove.
He was not going to cut this short and convince Oliver to go to bed with him now, no matter how much he wanted to.
You’re a gentleman, he added, as an additional reminder.
Because the last thing he wanted was for Oliver to think this was just about sex.
It really couldn’t be anything like what he wanted it to be, but it could be something, still.
Fond memories Oliver looked back on, when Luca was long gone, at least.
He took a deep breath and then another one.
Reached for the knob to flick the burner on the stove on.
But instead, at the last moment, gripped it instead.
He turned back to Oliver. Still sitting on the edge of the counter. His hazel eyes were wide, pupils blown.
Luca recognized the look on his face, because he was feeling the exact same way.
“Fuck should do,” Luca said and in two steps was back in front of Oliver and they were kissing again, and this time it wasn’t so much sweet as it was desperate.
Oliver half-gasped, half-moaned into his mouth and wound his legs around Luca’s waist, pulling him in close, until he could feel his cock press against Oliver’s.
“Shit,” Luca swore, between life-altering kisses, heart thundering as Oliver rubbed against him.
“Bedroom,” Oliver ordered and then his arms were around Luca’s neck and he was a surprisingly light weight in his arms as Oliver fastened his mouth to his neck and led him, between bone-melting nibbles to his ear, so he’d head the right direction.
Not that it was particularly difficult. The house, as Luca had told Oliver earlier, was small.
So was Oliver’s bedroom, but the bed was big, definitely big enough for both of them. He set Oliver down on the edge, on the bright blue quilt, and pulled back for a second.
Tried to slow his labored breathing.
Not from carrying Oliver.
But from how desperately he wanted him.
He’d never felt like this before, half-insane with the need to shed all his clothes, strip the ones from Oliver, and press their bodies together.
Oliver pulled off his shirt and was already wiggling out of his jeans.
Luca swallowed hard as more and more of Oliver’s gorgeous skin was revealed.
“Come on,” Oliver said enticingly, and that was all the encouragement Luca needed to push his worries to the side.
He stripped his T-shirt and jeans off, and it was so easy to fall right into Oliver’s big soft bed, caging him in. Oliver grinned up at him, lifting a hand to trail through his hair, tangling in the short strands near his neck and pulling him down.
“I like this,” Luca said softly, before their lips met again.
He did. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so light.
Was it the wild, carefree look in Oliver’s eyes? The way he didn’t try to change him, just accepted him the way he was? Or was it the way Luca’s blood surged whenever he looked at him? The sweet taste of his skin, the only sweetness it felt like he’d indulged in, in forever?
Whatever it was, Luca wanted more of it.
He wanted all of it.
He leaned down and kissed him, letting his body drop farther down, rubbing his cock against Oliver’s, until they were gasping into each other’s mouths.
“Please,” Oliver begged, eyes wild. “God, please.”
“You need more, baby? I can give you more.”
Oliver nodded wordlessly, and Luca slipped down his body, tasting him here and there.
Luca’s tongue curling around a nipple, then a nip on his belly.
Oliver’s abs tensing as Luca’s mouth moved lower.
How was he still so fucking sweet? Luca would go to the grave not understanding how it was even possible, but loving it nonetheless.
He tugged Oliver’s briefs down and slicked his tongue up his cock, giving both of them just a little taste. Oliver uttered a string of garbled praise and begging, so he kept his tongue slow and leisurely, straining against the teasing of his mouth.
Slicking up a finger with his tongue, he slid it down, past Oliver’s balls, lower still, circling his hole for a second and then pushing it in, just as he enveloped his cock in his mouth and sucked hard.
Oliver’s cries grew louder, and Luca could tell he was close, so he went a little faster, trying to draw his pleasure out as much as he could.
He felt the beat of his own pulse in his head, his blood as hot as it had ever been, his dick a hard, insistent line in his boxer briefs, but he forced his focus to stay on Oliver.
Make him feel good, make him feel the best.
Luca pulled him back from the ledge once, then twice, slowing his movements, just giving him little teasing sucks and pulling his finger out, just tantalizing him with the idea of it, until he was flushed all the way up his chest, to his cheeks.
Then Luca finally let him fly, swallowing his cock down and finding that spot inside him with his finger that made him swear.
Oliver shook and pulsed for what felt like forever, Luca dragging it out as much as he could, as he sucked him dry.
When it was finally over, Luca let his cock slip from his mouth and worked his way back up, feeling the little shudders of Oliver’s body as he found sensitive spots all over his stomach and chest, then his neck.
His cock rubbed insistently against Oliver’s soft belly, even as he tried to avoid it. But he was too hard, too aroused, too close to coming undone himself, just from the pleasure he’d given Oliver.
Oliver’s eyes flickered open. That bright hazel drowning him.
“Come ’ere,” he said roughly and slid a hand between their bodies, gripping Luca’s cock, his tantalizingly brief strokes convincing him to move.
He straddled Oliver’s chest, pulling himself upright, but then Oliver shocked him by not just firming his grip, moving it more insistently, pleasure shooting through him at the touch, but raising his chin and licking at the flushed, swollen head.
“Shit,” Luca swore, as the two very different touches, one brief and light, the other insistent and forceful, pulled him right toward his orgasm.
Then Oliver’s other hand was there and it was tugging on his balls, and Luca dug his fingers into Oliver’s chest and bellowed as he came hard.
A stripe of come landed on his chin and then his cheek, and Luca couldn’t help the savage sense of possession that rocketed through him at the sight.
Oliver’s not yours, he reminded himself, when he could think straight, when he was already reaching for a tissue to help him clean himself up.
But that didn’t feel quite right either.
You want Oliver to be yours.
It was never going to happen, because Oliver lived here, had lived here his whole life, had come back here because he’d missed it, had built his business here. He not only knew the story of the town; his family was the story of the town.
And Luca had his own obligations. He didn’t always enjoy them as much as he wanted. He didn’t always feel as secure and home as Oliver felt here, but that definitely didn’t change anything.
Didn’t change the promises he’d made to his Nonna. To Nicoletta and Matteo. To his brothers and sisters, even as they resented him for the work he did to fulfill them.
Luca flopped down on the bed next to Oliver, who turned over, curling into him.