latermaybe | For Elio

“I know you do,” I assure him, letting out a hum of my own as his gentle fingers touch my face. Maybe it sounds cocky, but I don’t mean it that way. Oliver has hidden so much of himself for so much of his life, and pretended to be something he wasn’t.

I know that he isn’t pretending with me. This is who he is, and I know that he loves me. He shows me all the time.

“It’s rude to stare,” I tease, but the smirk on my face makes it clear that I really don’t mind. In fact, I let him look at me for a little longer, and then lean down to press my palms to the floor on either side of his face. Our eyes meet, then cross a bit as I get closer, then close when I kiss him, passionate and lingering.

“I love you, too,” I say against his mouth, nipping gently at his bottom lip.

"Was I staring?" I murmured, playfully apologetic. My hands drifted over his thighs, his hips, squeezing his narrow waist gently as I pulled him close and groaning under the onslaught of his kiss.

"This feels familiar," I murmured, when we parted, thinking of the last time we'd ended up frantic and naked in this very spot.

“This rug has seen some things,” I say with a soft chuckle, humming my approval as his big hands travel over my body. He tugs at my waist and I rock my hips a little as I lift my hand to admire my ring. It looks dainty on my finger in a way that I enjoy, and I smile dreamily as I grind my hips down against his a little more purposefully.

“When did you buy this ring?” I ask him, looking back at him and lowering my hand to rest it against his chest, framing his nipple between my ring bud pinky fingers.

Huffing out a sheepish laugh, I admitted, "A year ago. I was looking for a Hanukkah gift, but somehow left the shop with that."

I smiled fondly at the memory. "The girl behind the counter was very patient with me."

And afterward, I'd tucked it away and tried not to think about it— my own version of running away from those things I didn't want to face. I'd thought I was past all that, but old habits really were hard to shake.

“A year ago,” I repeat incredulously, but I am not upset at the news. If anything, it makes me find the whole thing even more endearing. Here I was, fretting about marriage, while somewhere in the apartment an engagement ring was sitting and waiting for me. How silly we both are.

“A whole year,” I say again, hair spilling over my forehead as I look down at his face and roll my hips against his, feeling his cock twitch to life in his sweats. “You goose.”

I kiss him again, then make my way down his neck, pausing to suck a little mark into his skin so I can look at it later and feel smug. And then I kiss lower, across his chest and under his Star, pausing to circle his nipple with my tongue. “I love you so much.”

"Not my finest hour," I admitted, awash with relief to find that he wasn't angry with me. I could handle him laughing at me, a bit. I deserved it.

Chuckling, my breath caught at the friction of his cock against my own, my grip on his hips tightening. "I love you, too," I murmured, my hands drifting over his back as he slid lower, one burying in the mess of his curls. "So much," I echoed, lifting my head to look down at him with a warm smile.

"Should we try and get up, while we still can?" I suggested, my eyes drifting towards the open doorway of our bedroom.

“I know you do. I can feel it,” I assure him, because it’s evident by the way he touches me with such open reverence, like he’s still in awe of the fact that he can do so freely.

His hand slides through my hair as I kiss my way down his stomach, and I glance up at him at his suggestion. It’s a good one, and I know we should get up, but it’s so hard to stop touching him.

“Would you like me to suck you off here or there?” I ask in a low voice, biting at the waistband of his sweats and giving it a little tug before letting go and nuzzling at his half-hard cock through the thin material of his pants. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as I get you in my mouth.”

My answer stuck in the back of my throat and I chuckled weakly, my head dropping to the rug with a dull thud.

I thought for a moment, torn between comfort and immediate satisfaction, and eventually heaved myself upright with a effortful groan. "Okay, up. We're getting up," I said, gently pushing him from my lap and shoving myself to my feet. "Let's go. We haven't got all day," I teased, offering him a hand.

Even though I know moving to the bedroom is the right choice, I still let out a little growl of frustration when he moves away from me. My mouth is watering, I’m so eager, and I lick my lips as I grab his hand and let him heave me upright.

“Oh, but we do,” I tell him, crowding him back toward our bedroom and pulling my shirt over my head. I pull Oliver’s shirt down over his shoulders and off, tossing it aside before pushing him back onto our bed, letting my gaze travel over him as I stand between his knees. “You’re right. This is better.”

I give him a wolfish grin and then tug his pants and underwear down to his knees, eyeing his cock as it springs free. After climbing onto the bed, I curl my hand around it, pausing to admire the sparkle of my ring as I rub at the head of his cock with my thumb. “How pretty.”

Edited 2023-10-18 19:00 (UTC)

Laughing helplessly, I sprawled back onto the mattress, managing to lift my head and watch those long fingers encircle my cock.

"That's exactly what I had in mind when I bought it," I teased him, a ridiculous grin splitting my face. I was ecstatic. Dizzy with relief and easy contentment. For all my worrying, I'd finally gotten myself back on track.

“You have such an eye for details,” I volley back, nearly overcome with emotion as I look at Oliver’s face. He’s so happy, so genuinely happy, and all I can think is that I want to be able to look back on this moment again and again, so I take my phone out of my back pocket and take a picture of his face. I take several pictures— of him, of me, of my hand wrapped around his cock.

I switch to video and point the camera at myself as I lower my head to press a kiss to the wet head of his cock, glancing into the camera as I drag my tongue over it and pull it into my mouth. The phone falls from my hand, camera still recording, as I focus all of my attention on Oliver, moaning around his cock as I start to bob my head up and down.

Watching him pull out his phone, my mouth went dry, my cock twitching treacherously in his palm.

Laughing breathlessly, I let my head fall back, one hand burying in his hair. "Let's hope one of your fans doesn't try and steal your photos off the cloud, or whatever they're calling it."

I only vaguely knew what any of that meant, and as soon as his mouth wrapped around my cock, I no longer cared one way or another.

“Don’t use it,” I mumble, too distracted by the sight of his thick cock twitching in my hand. I don’t think that I’ll ever get used to how big it is, or how pretty.

My lips stretch around the girth of it, and I moan as the head nudges the back of my throat, slurping obscenely as I move my head up and down. Spit eases the way as I pull my fist up to meet my mouth as I sink down, over and over again, and I glance up at him as I breathe in deep through my nose.

When I sink down next, I keep going, swallowing around him until his cock sinks into the tight clutch of my throat. I gag a little, choking like something out of a porno, and the sound of it makes my own cock throb. I lift my hand to let him know that I’m okay, then lift his hand to the back of my head to press it there deliberately, looking up at him with pleading eyes. I want him to fuck my throat, to use me and take what he needs while I watch his face.

"God," I groaned helplessly, and feeling emboldened, I reached out and fumbled in the sheets until my hand closed over the phone. Holding it in one hand, I aimed the camera at him, at my cock disappearing down his throat. My aim was poor, especially when he guided my hand to the back of his head, the camera wobbling until I managed to prop it against my chest.

"Fuck," I said disbelievingly, fingers gripping his hair as I started to roll my hips. Tentative, at first. Soon, less so.

When I glance up to see that Oliver is pointing the camera at me, I pause only enough for my pupils to darken, nostrils flaring slightly as I feel a surge of arousal. I am a performer, after all.

I really make a show of it, choking a little as he fucks into my throat. Saliva leaks from the corner of my mouth, wetting my chin and my hand as I slide it down to cup his balls. Oliver gets more confident after a few strokes and pushes at the back of my head until his cock is as deep in my throat as it can get, my nose pressed to his pubic bone. It cuts off my airflow, leaving Oliver in charge of when I’ll breathe again, and I know it’s sick, but I almost feel like I could come just from this.

I look at him and then into the camera, eyes blurring as they start to water, and I moan as best I can with my throat stuffed full of his cock. When he pulls my head up, his cock slips from my mouth and I suck in a breath, lips swollen and chin wet as I surge up his body to press my mouth to his.

“I need you inside me right now,” I pant out, reaching back to press my sweats down over my hips. The phone is pressed between us now, but I know that it’s still recording, so I keep on talking, murmuring against his ear as I rock against him almost mindlessly. “I need your cock, pesca. Please fuck me. Per favore, Oliver.”

The phone fell face down on my chest, but I hardly noticed. Scrambling higher up the bed, I reached for the bedside drawer and fumbled blindly for the lube. "Okay. Fuck. Okay," I assured him, gripping his ass in one hand, a dry fingertip prodding against the tight clench of his hole.

My fingers finally closed over the tube and I drew it out, swallowing a grunt of pain as I knocked my knuckles against the edge of the bedside table.

Lube spilling over my cock, over my fingers, I pressed one into him, another, making hasty work of slicking him up. "Shh," I soothed him, free hand rubbing down his spine. Urging him onto his knees astride my lap, I said, "Show me," as I drew him down onto my cock.

While Oliver gets the lube, I pick up the phone and prop it up against some books on the nightstand, angling at us and still recording. Soon, I forget about the camera entirely because Oliver's slick fingers are pressing into me and he's using that insanely hot voice that's soothing and commanding all at once, and I nod as he positions me over his cock. He pulls me down onto it, spearing me open, and I let out a soft cry because there's a bit of a sting due to the hurried prep, but I always like that minor bit of pain because it reminds me of that very first night and I know now, unlike then, that it'll soon give way to the most euphoric sort of pleasure.

"Fuck, Oliver," I pant out, mewling softly against his neck as I stubbornly work my way down onto his cock, not stopping until my ass is flush with his hips and he's taking up all the space he can inside me. My head falls back as I pause to adjust, breath hitching as my fingernails dig into his shoulders, and I lift my head to meet his eyes, switching seamlessly into Italian. "You're so fucking big. I can practically taste you."

I take a moment to just relish in the fullness, clenching experimentally around him as I reach for his clean hand, the one he smacked against the nightstand. His knuckle is red and a little raw, and I press a kiss to it before taking the whole digit into his mouth, wanting as much of him inside of me as I can get.

"Fuck," I echoed, gripping at his hip as he settled down in my lap, his body clenching so tight that I momentarily feared this would all be over way too soon. He took my finger into his mouth, but it wasn't a show for the camera, which we'd both nearly forgotten.

"You're so—" My breath hitched and I thrust into him, the hand gripping his hip urging him to move. "My God, you're amazing."

Oliver compliments me and it's even better than the roar of a crowd, better than any applause or praise because it's him that matters. It's him that I want to impress and make happy for the rest of our lives. There's Oliver, and then there's everything else.

"Yeah?" I give him a breathless grin and position my knees under me so I can start to move up and down, fucking myself on his cock hard enough that the sounds of our bodies meeting seems to echo in the room. My elbows rest on his shoulders and I look down at him, hair falling into my eyes as I pull myself nearly all of the way off of him and then sink down again, clenching down around him each time.

"Just a little sneak preview of my husbandly duties," I pant out with a teasing smile, tossing my head back with a cry as the angle changes and his cock slams hard against my prostate with each eager bounce.

"Very different from your boyfriendly duties," I clarified, my mouth falling open as I watched him practically bounce on my cock.

"You're amazing," I said again, drawing my knees up, heels planted on the mattress to give myself leverage. "You're like no one else, Elio."

He seemed lost to pleasure, mouth slack and his eyes closed, and he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

“Yes, because now I have this gorgeous ring.” I put that hand on my chest, sliding it up to wrap loosely around my own neck so he can see the ring glitter on my finger. I lift my head to meet his gaze, smiling as I pump up and down on his cock, whimpering each time it strikes my prostate on the way in. There’s so much of him, and even though I am completely inexperienced outside of him, I know that it can’t get any better than this.

It’s impossible. The two of us were made to fit together, like a key and a lock.

When my thighs start to burn, I plant my hands against his shoulders and shift my weight a little, bringing our faces closer together. Our eyes meet and it’s electric, adding to the bone deep pleasure coursing through me. “I can’t wait to marry you, Oliver. God, I can’t fucking wait.”

Gasping, I watched the way his hand curved against the sleek column of his own throat. The ring really was ridiculously pretty, dainty on his slim fingers, and I groaned, my hips stuttering briefly out of rhythm.

When he leaned forward, I wrapped both arms around his back, bringing him close, our bodies able to do little more than grind together. "I don't think we could..." I panted, grinning against his cheek. "... get anyone in to officiate right now."

"I bet Neil would," I joke, then immediately wrinkle my nose and laugh. "He can never know we mentioned him during sex."

Oliver's arms go around me and I groan, leaning against him and arching my hips as he rocks up into me with shallow thrusts that nearly lift me off of the bed. The pleasure is deep and toe-curling, flowing through every inch of me, and I cry out softly as I open my mouth against the side of his neck.

"Fuck, Oliver," I breathe out, clenching down around him and rubbing my cock shamelessly against his belly as he presses up inside of me so deep that I can barely breathe. "How does it just keep getting better and better?"

"Let's not do it again," I suggested, barely stifling a laugh of my own. My initial aversion to be around the other man, sensing his familiarity but not being able to remember any of our interactions, had faded somewhat. It helped that he didn't smirk at me quite as openly anymore.

But thoughts of him, or anyone else, were fleeting. His laughter, his soft breath and groans of pleasure, were so beautiful. It was strange to be distracted by someone while you were with them, the little details pulling my attention away from the moment.

But the distraction was brief. He said my name, his body tightening around my cock, and I gasped, feeling the tell-tale tightness deep in my groin and knowing I wouldn't last much longer. "Practice." I panted, pulling him down harder onto my cock, murmuring a desperate, "Elio, you've got to come for me, bello."

"Ah, ah. Not yet," I pant out, reaching out and putting my hands on Oliver's cheeks and slowing to a halt in his lap. He makes a desperate sort of noise and I shush him soothingly, stroking my thumbs over his cheekbones and giving him a soft kiss. "Not yet, pesca. I want it to last longer."

I move one hand to his chest, urging him to take a deep breath with me, one and then another, backing us away from that ledge while he grips at my hips so tightly that I'm sure that I'll have welcomed bruises.

Once I'm confident that neither of us are about to explode, I press a kiss to his mouth and then pull off of his cock to fall back against the bed, drawing my knees up and spreading my legs, arms up over my head in the most lascivious pose I can manage.

"I've done the bulk of the work," I tease, pursing my lips in a kiss at him and arching my back. "I think it's your turn."

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