latermaybe | For Elio

For Elio

With the end of the year closing in, I found myself anxious to close out the semester. I was distracted. I knew my colleagues could sense it, my students restless in classes that had lost focus. My writing had suffered, but it had never been something I was particularly proud of anyway. My heart wasn't in it. I wanted to be home.

I was afraid to go home.

I was compelled to be with Elio whenever possible, but his grief was consuming. I'd watched it whittle away at him, the cracks that Purge Night had left in him shattering the day that Jamie left, leaving behind the raw nerves beneath. Old wounds opened by the loss of his parents. The loss of me, over and over. I wanted to help him, but neither of us knew how I was meant to do that.

I stayed out for a few hours with some friends from the university, playing poker in the basement of their campus housing. I'd left early, guiltily, even though I'd told Elio where I'd be. I brought home a bottle of expensive wine and felt foolish. I loved him so much, and had never been so helpless.

Key in the door, I blew out a breath, braced myself, and stepped inside.

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“She had a soft spot for you. She was so much nicer to you than she was to me,” I say fondly, and there’s a small ache in my chest because I can so easily picture them in the kitchen together. He would have been a worthy pupil for all the knowledge she had to give.

“Trust me. I know how good I’ve got it,” I tell him, pointing my fork at my nearly cleared plate before setting it down so I can lift the wine bottle. I finish it off between our glasses and then turn in until our knees are pressed together under the table. “In so many ways.”

"I think that was only because she expected me to be gone soon," I pointed out, my smile briefly regretful. Lifting my wine glass to my lips, I set a hand on his knee, squeezing it gently.

"Both of us do," I said, gently clinking my glass against his. I knew it wouldn't take away the hurt he felt, or the horror of what we'd gone through, but it was good to remind ourselves of it, as often as we could.

“No, she usually had even less patience for our annual guests than she did for me,” I say with a wry smile. I drove Mafalda up the wall, but I know she loved me as if I were her own. I should have treated her better, looking back.

Oliver taps our glasses together and I smile at him, taking a long sip and leaning in closer, reaching out to brush a stray piece of piece of hair away from his forehead.

“What are you thinking for dessert?” I ask in a low voice, one that might be a little suggestive if he’d like to take it that way. I think I’d like very much to curl up on the sofa and be kissed by him. There are few things in life better, if anything at all.

Sitting back from my plate, I slipped an arm around his shoulders as I nursed my wine, smiling softly as his fingertips brushed my forehead.

"I'm sure we have some fruit in the crisper," I teased him, reading the warm, playful look on his face for what it was. Finishing off my wine, I reached for him, my touch delicate at the curve of his jaw, and pulled him into a kiss.

“Wrong season for stone fruit,” I joke back, smirking a little and nuzzling into his palm as he guides me closer. Our mouths meet and I let my eyes fall shut as I relax against him.

Grief has clouded so much of my thoughts that I had almost forgotten just how good it feels to kiss him, to let his sunshine chase away the gray.

My fingers curl in the front of his shirt and I deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth like that day on the berm, like I’m discovering just how good it feels all over again.

"We could always branch out," I suggested, murmured against his mouth, my lips parting as his tongue swept out to taste my own.

Fingers slipping into his hair, I pulled him closer, my other hand gentle at the slight dip of his waist. After a moment, I pushed my chair back with a creak and urge him to his feet without breaking our kiss.

I’ve been holding myself so rigid and now I can feel myself loosening, crackling like thawing ice, and I let out an almost startled whimper as Oliver guides me to my feet. He holds me and everything feels okay.

It isn’t. I know it isn’t and maybe it won’t be for a long time, but there’s a relief in knowing that there will be good moments. I can let the man I love chase it all away for a little bit. I can still feel good things.

I grab at his waist, hands sliding to the small of his back as I pull him in closer, one hand lifting to his jaw as we kiss each other like nothing else matters.

Because for right now, nothing else does.

I guided him back towards the sofa, navigating blindly around furniture, bare feet on the new rug. Sitting down, I pulled him with me, half into my lap, gentle but firm. Like this, the last month felt far away. It felt like something manageable. Together, we could make it through anything.

Right here, right now, was all that mattered.

I kissed him long and slow, cradling his jaw between my palms, taking in all the soft, needy sounds he made and holding them, keeping them, like they were something fragile and alive and precious.

Oliver pulls me down on top of him, guides me into place in a way that’s more helpful than demanding, and I let out another whimper as he cradles my face in his big, warm hands. It feels so good that I could cry, but I’ve done enough of that lately. There will be no tears tonight.

I crawl fully into his lap, twisting at the waist so my backside is cradled between his thighs, my legs sprawled out to the side. My arms go around his neck and I lean back, urging him down on top of me as my back sinks into the sofa. I want him on top of me, covering me and keeping me safe.

“I missed you,” I murmur in Italian, wrapping my legs around his thighs and sliding one hand up the back of his shirt to feel his soft skin against my fingertips. “God, you’re so warm.”

Murmuring wordlessly, soothingly, I crawled on top of him, settling between his legs, pushing his shirt up until it was gathered beneath his arms, our chests pressed together.

I'd been right here, I nearly reminded him, but I knew exactly what he meant. Our lives had been turned upside down, and being together like this hadn't felt possible. But now, it all rushed back, the warmth of him, the comfort of it.

"I'm here," I promised, murmured against his lips, touching him like I could brand him with my fingertips.

Oliver settles on top of me and I drag his sweater up, letting out a soft moan as our bodies press together, skin to skin, soothing like a balm and so, so warm. I wriggle out of my shirt and I tug his sweater over his head, mussing up his soft hair, and I sweep it away from his face, cupping his cheeks in my hands and kissing him again.

"I know," I breathe out, arching up into his firm touch and kissing him again, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close. His heart beats against mine, a perfect duet, each thump a declaration.

"I love you. I love you so much," I say into his mouth, licking the lingering taste of wine from the backs of his teeth. "You make me feel so good."

"I love you, too. So much," I echoed, opening up to his kiss, my hips settling in the cradle of his thighs. I made no move to strip him of the rest of his clothes, content to kiss him like this a little longer.

"You're so beautiful," I murmured, sweeping his hair back from his face, my chest aching with love for him. I wanted so badly to make everything alright for him, if only for a little while.

A part of me feels the urge to argue, because I certainly don’t feel beautiful. I look like I haven’t seen the sun in days, and haven’t slept even longer. But I know Oliver isn’t just saying it to be kind. He says it like he really means in and I can’t help but to smile back at him.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” I murmur in a playful, singsongy voice as I touch his face, fingertips trailing across his brow and down to his jaw as I kiss him. There is truth to the lullaby, and my arms go around him to pull him close, finding his mouth with mine between each line. “You make me happy, when skies are gray.”

"Hush, you goose," I laughed, kissing his cheek sloppily, fingertips dancing over his ribs, playful and exhilarated.

Humming a bit of the tune along with him, I buried my face in his neck, wrapping him up in a long-limbed hug, the two of us tangled up and nearly wrestling in a way we hadn't allowed ourselves in weeks.

"Stop," I laugh out as he tickles my ribs, squirming and tipping my head back. His arms go around me and I hug him back, sliding one hand into his hair and kissing the side of his face.

"Actually don't," I add after a moment, hooking my knees over his hips and rolling us right off of the sofa. Oliver lands on his back and I fall on top of him, straddling his hips and planting my palms into the carpet on either side of his head. "Ha."

"Oof," I grunted, wheezing out a laugh as he landed on top of me, heavier than he looked, and bony to boot.

"You've won," I pointed out, a sly smile tugging at my lips as my fingertips crawled up towards his ribs. "What's your prize?"

“Damn right,” I say with a smile, and I’m so relieved to find that this is as easy as it’s always been. I spend time with Oliver and pain just melts away.

“I’m looking at him.” Winking, I take his hands in mine and press kisses to his knuckles while watching his face. I kiss his fingertips, then take the tip of his thumb between my lips and suckle briefly at it before letting his hands fall so I can drop mine to his zipper, scooting back a little to make more room. “But if you’re asking for specificity, I do have a few ideas.”

"I'd like to hear them," I said lightly, framing his face in my hands while he reached for my zipper. I wanted to keep him talking, to keep him in this moment, not to mention how hot it was for him to detail exactly what he was going to do to me.

"Then we can decide which one is best," I teased him, hands dropping away from his face as I rolled up onto my elbows.

“Is that so?” I ask with a low chuckle, nose scrunching as Oliver holds my face in his big hands. They fall away and I shake my curls out of my face as I sit back on his thighs, smiling as I slowly pull down his zipper.

It feels good to be like this, because in this I have control. I can make everything happen just like I want it to because Oliver trusts me, he loves me, and I’m good at this. I take a deep breath and relax into it, smiling warmly down at him as I open his pants and tug down the elastic of his underwear enough to pull out his cock.

It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve touched it and I greet it like an old friend, curling my fingers around it in a warm embrace as it thickens against my palm. I stroke him slowly, lightly, and hum thoughtfully as I look him in the eye.

“Well, first one is a classic,” I say casually, letting the tip of my tongue peek out to trace my upper lip. “I put my mouth on you and suck your cock until you come on my tongue. I might enjoy that.”

I lift my hand and make a show of licking my palm, then curl it around him again, stroking him a little more tightly. “But where would that leave me?”

"I'm sure I could come up with something," I said, attempting to match his casual tone, despite my breathlessness.

"You are the creative one, bello. I think you should tell me," I teased him, lips parted as I rolled my hips gently into the circle of his fist. I met his eyes, challenging and overjoyed at the opportunity to play with him again, for the first time in weeks.

“Ah, I see,” I breathe out with a soft chuckle, meeting Oliver’s challenging look with a playful wink. “You want me to talk dirty. Is that it, pesca?”

Already, Oliver has me under his spell. Nothing can touch me here, not when every thought and every sense is focused on him. My bright and shining star.

“Or do you want to be bossed around?” I ask with a smirk, shifting to press my other hand to the center of his chest, leaning over him to put my weight on him as I slowly stroke his cock, pinning him to the floor. “Or maybe it’s a little bit of both, hm?”

"I just want to hear your voice," I admitted, gasping as he used his weight to press me down onto the rug, looming over me with his eyes glittering playfully. My cock lurched and I laughed breathlessly.

"But this is good, too."

More often than not, I fell into the assertive role in the bedroom, but I looked forward to the spark of moments like this. His coltishness had fallen away, over these years, and maybe we'd both hit a snag lately, but this easy confidence he'd settled into as we'd grown up together... He was radiant.

The answer makes me smile, warmth blooming in my chest, and rub at the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock in a way that I know makes him crazy. I love him so much, and it just seems to be growing inside me every day. It feels infinite.

“Well, I can’t talk with my mouth full,” I say as I stroke him slowly, sitting back and sliding my hand under his sweater, fingers hooking in the chain around his neck. “So I’ll have to amend my plans a bit, it seems.”

I let go of his cock to lean over him and dig the small bottle of lube out of the side table next to the sofa, then sit back on my haunches as his side.

“I could talk about how absolutely beautiful you are. How you glow in the sun, how your eyes rival the bluest sky,” I murmur in a low, seductive voice, dropping the lube so I can tuck my fingers into his waistband. “Lift up for me, pesca.”

Moaning softly, I spread my knees for him, letting him settle between them. His hands slipped beneath the hem of my sweater and I shifted up, fumbling to tug the fabric over my head in the cramped space between sofa and coffee table.

My eyes followed him as he leaned over me to dig in the end table, and I craned my neck to press my lips to the center of his chest, hands framing his hips before he settled back down.

Heat flooding my face, I laughed hoarsely, saying, "Okay, okay," as I lifted my hips, even though I didn't really want him to stop.

“Oh no, you’ve got me started,” I say with a warm laugh, tugging his pants and underwear down over the curve of his perfect ass. His cock springs free and I duck my head to press my lips to it, unable to help myself. I pull it into my mouth, holding him there for a moment before letting slip away as I work the material down over his legs. Finally, he’s naked for me, spread out on our nice new rug, and I pick his foot up and hold it in both hands while pressing a kiss to the top of it.

“You’re so beautiful. Every part of you. Even your toes,” I tell him, smirking and then taking his big toe between my teeth, biting playfully and then tugging his legs open so I can fit myself between them. My hands fall to his thighs, big and strong and covered in golden hair, and I slide my palms up slowly to his hips while watching his face. “You have the prettiest cock. So hard and wet just for me.”

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