Chapter 32. Florian
On our first full day in Italy, I discovered that vacation Daddy was still very much schedule Daddy.
I woke to his hand caressing my cheek, gently but firmly pulling me from sleep.
The bedroom was bathed in golden light. For a moment, I forgot where I was, confused by the unfamiliar light on the high ceiling, until Knox's voice rumbled beside me.
"Good morning, little boy. Coffee on the terrace in fifteen minutes." His lips brushed my forehead before he slipped from the bed, leaving behind the lingering scent of his cologne.
“Exactly, I don't want us to waste it. Now, chop-chop.”
I found him exactly fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in linen pants that I'd never seen before.
He sat at a small wrought-iron table, an actual paper newspaper spread before him, like a boomer, and a steaming espresso cup at his elbow.
The terrace was drenched in morning light, the sea below so bright it hurt to look at directly.
"Right on time," he noted with approval, folding the paper as I approached. Of course I was. He hated lateness, and I wanted to please him. He gestured to the chair across from him where a larger cup waited, hot chocolate, of course, but just how I liked it. "Sleep well?"
I sank into the chair, curling my fingers around the warm porcelain. "This bed is even better than yours at home. You wrecked me last night as well."
He laughed. "High praise."
I took a sip of hot chocolate and nearly moaned. It was perfect, rich and smooth. "Oh my god," I breathed, taking another greedy sip.
We sat in silence for a second, the only sounds the distant rush of waves against the cliffs below and the occasional call of seabirds.
The air smelled of salt. I found myself studying Knox's profile as he gazed out at the sea.
He was fucking handsome. Looking at him gave me chills, and I wanted to jump on his lap right away, but I held myself back.
"I've planned a schedule for our stay," he said, turning those dark eyes back to me. I grimaced and he noticed, laughing again. I loved that I could make him react in such a way. "Structure is good for you, little one."
“Even on vacation?! Of course you’d have a schedule…” I sighed, sipping more of my perfect chocolate, sitting in front of my perfect man.
“Yes, little brat, and you'll follow it like a good boy.”
I hid my smile behind my cup. "Fiiine. What's on the agenda today, Daddy?"
He set his empty espresso cup down. "Swimming lessons."
My stomach dropped, half-nervous, half-excited way. "Swimming lessons?"
"In the infinity pool." He nodded toward the glittering water just visible from our position. "You mentioned once that you never properly learned. When we first met."
I opened my mouth. I couldn't quite believe he listened to what I said from that first time. On that first day we met, when he offered me to use his pool, and I told him I had never learned.
"I-I can swim," I protested weakly. "Just not... well."
"We'll improve it, then," he said, in that tone that brooked no argument. "Go change. Your trunks are in the second drawer in the bedroom."
“But Daddy…”
“No buts. I want to teach you what you should have learned a long time ago, if you’d had someone responsible to show you.”
I didn't answer because my throat closed up for a second.
When I returned to the terrace in trunks, black with two white stripes on the sides, Knox was already in the pool.
The sight of him made me pause at the glass doorway.
He'd removed his shirt, revealing his chest. Water beaded on his shoulders, catching the sunlight like tiny diamonds.
The cut of his chest and arms made my mouth water.
I was suddenly acutely aware of my own body, the paleness of my skin, the slight boniness of my frame despite the weight I'd gained since moving in with Knox.
The old voice started up, but I shut it down.
Knox's rules about self-deprecation were clear, and my ass remembered every one of them.
"Come here, you gorgeous boy," Knox called, his voice gentle but firm.
I felt my face flush and forced myself to walk to the pool's edge. The tiles were warm beneath my bare feet, heated by the morning sun.
"I'm not very good at this," I warned, dipping a toe in the water. It was pleasantly cool, a relief from the growing heat of the day.
Knox moved to the edge of the pool, water streaming down his chest as he extended a hand. "That's why we're practicing. I won't let anything happen to you."
I took his hand and let him guide me down the steps into the shallow end. The water rose to my waist, cool.
"We'll start with floating," Knox said, his hand still firmly clasping mine. "Lean back. I'll support you."
I hesitated, irrational fear creeping up my spine despite the clear water and visible bottom. "I'll sink."
"You won't," he promised, his free hand moving to my back. "I've got you. Trust me."
I did trust him, more than I'd ever trusted anyone.
So, I took a deep breath and leaned back, feeling my feet lift from the bottom as I surrendered my weight to his hands.
For a moment, panic flared as water lapped at my ears, but Knox's hands were there, one supporting my lower back, the other beneath my shoulders, steady and sure.
"Relax," his voice came, slightly muffled by the water. "Let your body go loose. Fighting the water makes you sink."
Gradually, I felt my muscles unclench, my back softening into his palms. The sun warmed my face while the water cooled my body, creating a delicious contrast.
"Good boy," Knox murmured, and even half-submerged, those words sent warmth pooling in my stomach. "Now extend your arms at your sides, like wings."
I followed his instructions, feeling strangely vulnerable spread out on the water's surface, my ears submerged so that all sounds became distant and muted. Knox's hands remained, solid points of contact anchoring me.
Over the next hour, he guided me through basic strokes.
His hands were everywhere, adjusting the angle of my arms, supporting my hips to correct my body position, cupping my chin to help me find the right breathing rhythm.
Each touch was intimate, firm but gentle.
By the end of the lesson, Knox stood at the far edge, arms crossed over his chest, watching my progress with pride.
"You're a natural at this," he said as I reached him, slightly breathless. He brushed wet hair back from my forehead, his thumb lingering at my temple. "I'm very proud of you, especially for trying something so scary."
I beamed under his praise, water dripping from my lashes. "I have a good teacher."
I reached for him. Okay, I did climb him a little, and Knox just folded me in, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I clung to his neck and pressed my face into his shoulder, inhaling sun-warmed skin and chlorine with just a hint of that cologne he wore even on vacation.
He held me tight, hand splayed over my ribs just below where my heart hammered way too fast for how little actual cardio we'd done.
I felt weightless, anchored only by his arms, and a little dizzy.
He checked his watch and nodded. "Lunch in thirty minutes. We'll practice again tomorrow."
I didn't let go of him. I lounged for a little longer, looking at him with my best 'please, Daddy’ eyes.
“Can't we stay here a little longer?”
“Sure, little boy,” he said. “For twenty more minutes. Then, lunch.”
“You are no fun!” I protested.
He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching, and I could see him deciding how to one-up my sass. “I have endless fun,” he said, “especially when you’re being a brat. You realize you’re only making tomorrow’s lesson more… thorough.”
That made my stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with swimming. “Are you going to make me wear floaties, Daddy?”
He considered. “I suppose if you’re really that helpless, we could find some.”
“You’re mean,” I said, but I didn’t let go, just moved to straddle his lap even more. “Maybe you want to enroll me in the kids’ swim class and make me do laps with all the six-year-olds.”
He grinned. “That’s not a bad idea. Next time we’re in the States, I’ll look for some classes.”
“Daddy!”
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, mock-stern. “Brats get what’s coming to them.”
I nipped his shoulder, teeth barely grazing the skin, eyes on his. “What if I’m a very good boy at lunch?”
He trapped me between his hands. “Good boys don’t negotiate their punishments,” he said. “But. If you’re excellent, I might be convinced to forget about all this bratting and reward you.”
His hands slid down, strong and steady, trapping me in place against the hard edge of the pool, while he went to the front of my trunks.
“Maybe I’ll drag it out, make you squirm and beg a little before I give you what you really want.
Or maybe I’ll let you choose. My hand, or my mouth.
If you impress me by being the best boy.
” He leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear, his voice a low growl.
“So what’s it going to be, little one? Are you going to be my good boy, or do I need to remind you who’s in charge right here, right now? ”
I wish I could have said something smart, but my brain got fried, and all I could manage was a pathetic moan.
He chuckled, mean. He kept me pinned, and when he finally let go, it was only to hoist me, easily, out of the pool.
I landed on my butt on the warm tile, spitting water, ridiculous in my soggy black and white trunks.
Knox hauled himself out next, his whole body flexing as he did, and just shook like a dog, spattering me with droplets.
“Hey!” I protested and he chuckled. “Who’s the brat now?”
“You tell me,” he said, shaking his wet hair again. I playfully glared at him.
"We drip-dry outside?" I asked, hoping he’d say yes. I liked the way my skin smelled after sun and chlorine. I wanted to lie on the ceramic like a lizard and watch the clouds.
He looked me over and then plucked a towel from a stack on a low table. "You can, but twenty minutes of direct sunlight and you’ll burn to a crisp. Towel off and put on a shirt and sunscreen. Please."
“Noooo, sunscreen is sticky and yucky!” I protested and stuck my tongue out at him but let him envelop me with the towel. He helped to my feet.
“No deal, then. Your safety is my priority, and I won't let you burn,” he said, rough terry cloth scraping hard and then gentle as he briskly worked my hair.
I'd never been towel-dried like that, and I couldn't say I hated it.
By the time he stopped, my skin tingled, and my hair stuck up in all directions.
He turned me, hands on my shoulders, and pressed a kiss just behind my ear.
"Good boy," he said again, and my knees almost buckled.
I followed him inside, bare feet cold on the marble.
I wanted to watch his ass, but he caught me ogling in the reflection of the glass doors and smirked.
I pretended I wasn’t perving. I also pretended not to notice how he watched me move, like he was mapping where all the water ran off me.
He put me in a dry t-shirt, his, of course, which nearly reached my knees.
True to his word, lunch appeared half an hour later on the shaded portion of the terrace. The table before us gradually filled with plates that looked like art. Fresh seafood glistening with olive oil and lemon, handmade pasta, and vegetables from the garden.
"The sea urchin," he insisted, offering me a small piece of toast topped with something that looked suspicious.
I wrinkled my nose, but I didn't want to sound rude.
"It tastes like the ocean," Knox countered. "Try it. For me."
Put that way, how could I refuse? I let him feed me the toast before I could reconsider. The flavor bloomed across my tongue, strange, savory, but also weirdly good.
"Oh," I said, surprised. "That's actually not too bad."
Knox smiled. "See? I told you. Trust Daddy."
I rolled my eyes, but I had this big, stupid smile on that I couldn't wipe.
As we ate, I realized he was doing the same thing with food that he'd done with swimming, guiding me out of my comfort zone with a firm hand, showing me pleasures I would never have discovered on my own.
And just like in the pool, I found myself surrendering to his direction, trusting that wherever he led me would be worth the journey.