The Italian Word for Kisses

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The Italian Word for Kisses Page 13

by Matthew J. Metzger


  “Gee, thanks.”

  “It’s true,” Tav said smugly. “I just give you the face and nobody else exists, not even Aaron Kowalski and his amazing kisses.”

  Luca snorted. “Please. I could cheat on you if I wanted. I could cheat on you with Aaron Kowalski’s sister if I wanted.”

  Tav lunged. He slammed Luca back into the rumpled duvet, both hands on Luca’s upper arms, and pinned Luca with his entire body in one fluid motion. Luca barely uncrossed his legs in time; as it was, those lean thighs ended up bracketing Tav’s hips in a very, very dangerous position.

  “Really?” Tav challenged.

  Luca jutted his chin out, chest and shoulders straining against Tav’s hold. Tav kept him pinned down, and pushed down harder with his hips. The way Luca’s pupils flexed was obvious at this distance, and heady as a fuck. “Yeah. Find a gay version of Aaron, and no problem. Reckon he’s got a brother or a cousin somewhere?”

  Tav smashed his mouth into Luca’s. He could feel the smile, and suppressed it. He tightened his grip when Luca squirmed to get an arm free, and nipped at that agile tongue when it tried to get control.

  “Fu-uck,” Luca groaned, twisting his face away, and Tav laughed, pulling that thin cotton T-shirt up and licking a broad stripe from hip to collarbone. “Fuck!”

  “I know you like nobody else,” Tav said, and did it again. It wasn’t quite the nipples that did it, it was the rib just below. He wrapped his teeth around the skin there and sucked, and whatever Luca said was Italian fit for a whorehouse. “Just me.”

  “S’far as you know. Door.”

  “You little―”

  “Door!” Luca hissed, twisting when Tav tried to kiss him again. “Get the door, you dirty fucker, my mamma’s home any minute now!”

  Tav groaned and lurched off the bed. He not only slammed the door shut, but tossed the desk chair down the steps to barricade it properly. He stomped his way back up them, frustrated at the interruption—and then stopped and grinned as Luca planted his feet on the bed, lifted his hips, and nearly tore his jeans down those long legs.

  “I think,” Luca said, tossing the denim away and dropping back onto the pillow with a smirk that was downright disgusting, “you better prove you know me best.”

  “Nerve clusters and all?”

  “Ooh, you never know who’s been at these nerve clusters.”

  Tav sniggered, crawling back onto the bed slowly and deliberately, and crowding Luca down into the pillow with a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. “First,” he murmured, sliding his mouth from lips to cheek to neck. “Forget all about anything to do with Aaron Kowalski.”

  “Mm, done. And then?”

  “Then just let me work. And while you’re at it, Luca?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Shut up.”

  * * * *

  Tav pressed his mouth to the smooth skin of Luca’s back, and pressed fleeting, lapping licks up the spine to the gentle curve of his neck. It shifted sideways, and he leaned over to kiss a jumping pulse.

  A door downstairs slammed, and two male voices started shouting at each other in Italian. Luca laughed breathily, his ribs lurching under Tav’s arm.

  “What’s that?”

  “Angelo’s team lost again,” Luca murmured. When Tav peeked, those dark eyes were closed.

  “C’mere.”

  Luca sighed as he twisted around in the tangled, too-hot sheets and burrowed into Tav’s chest and shoulder for the offered hug. Tav buried his face in that thick, tight hair and inhaled deeply, feeling Luca’s fingers walk gently across his ribcage.

  “I will drop out of the play if you want me to.”

  The offer was quiet and factual. Tav’s refusal was the same.

  “Well, the offer stays open.”

  “Thank you,” Tav said.

  “I kind of like you jealous, though.”

  Tav smiled, and felt Luca’s foot slide over his ankle.

  “Tav.”

  “Mm.”

  “Love you.”

  Tav blinked, then twisted free and found Luca’s lips with his own, illuminated only by the flickering silver light of the TV. The kiss was nothing like the others—it was soft and chaste, barely-there but so close it was like he could breathe for both of them.

  “V’you, too,” he whispered, and sealed the words in tight to Luca’s mouth.

  Nothing—and nobody—was going to disturb this.

  Chapter 14: “You’ve not been practising kissing, have you?”

  Tav pulled on his jacket, brushed off his T-shirt, and eyed his reflection in the mirror. Dark jeans, dark leather jacket Ian had got him for Christmas, and brand new Timbaland boots. He’d shaved, trimmed—hey, optimism—and even put on a bit of cologne. He was so going to—

  “Out on the pull, are you?”

  ―Score.

  Tav smirked at Ian, and tugged on the jacket again. “Bole Hill Park,” he said. “Goin’ to watch the fireworks.”

  “Oh aye?” Ian said. He was lounging in the kitchen doorway, scratching his stubble. Mam was working today, and Ian had been looking after the girls. So, really, the paint-stained pyjama bottoms and the beer belly wasn’t too surprising. “Out on the piss, then?”

  “Yuh-huh.”

  “Well don’t get into no fights,” Ian warned. “Your mam’s had enough of a time lately with, uh…”

  He trailed off, and Tav snorted. Ian didn’t like to talk smack about Tav’s old man. Tav didn’t get why, bloke was a total scumbag.

  “With Ben,” he said firmly, and patted down his pockets. Cash and keys rattled. “Cool. I’m off.”

  “Have fun,” Ian said, and chortled. “Don’t do nowt your mother wouldn’t do.”

  “Daddy! Daddy! Becky’s hogging the green!”

  Tav shut the door, grinning. It was New Years’ Eve, the night of the traditional wander up to Bole Hill Park to watch the fireworks exploding over the city and getting some grog and groping in the dark. And Tav felt lucky this year. He was still carrying a high from Christmas, and if he and his cologne had anything to do with it, he was so gonna score. Fuck Jack, fuck Ben, fuck everything except Tav, some illicit booze, some fireworks, and more than a little groping in the dark.

  So yeah, even Ian could have some charity today.

  The Jensen house was lit up; the Christmas lights were still up, and the front door had been repainted a cheery deep blue. Tav went round the back, jumping the gate into the garden and popping open the rickety back door.

  “Hi, Mamma Alessandra!” he called, and she swept in, floury apron over a classic black dress and thick hair done up in some elaborate beehive. “Oh, er, going out?”

  “Of course, dear, parents have lives, too!” she trilled, and seized his head to kiss both cheeks. Tav was taller than her, and he stooped awkwardly to allow it. “You look very handsome, Christopher.” Chreestopher. Again. He rolled his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ve missed him, though! He popped round to see a friend about half an hour ago. Oh, that lad from swimming—Paolo!”

  She shrieked a string of Italian; another string, albeit slower, came back in a deep voice.

  “Aaron!” she said triumphantly, in a tone of voice like she was echoing Paolo. “Aaron, that was it, he’s popped over to see Aaron.”

  “Oh,” Tav said, feeling inexplicably a bit put out. Aaron always came to Bole Hill Park, too, but…but, you know, Luca had started out already then. “Okay, I’ll go round and find him there. Thanks, Mamma Alessandra.”

  “Oh, you. Go on, shoo!”

  Tav…shooed. Shot? Whatever. He left. Aaron only lived up the hill, and as Tav loped back down the alley and out into the street, his initial annoyance died out. It was only half eight. And Aaron was a middle child: his older sister was, like, twenty-six and left booze just lying around the place. Luca had probably just escaped to start drinking early or something, ‘cause God knew Angelo was turning into a little shit who’d bug you until you shared nowadays.

  Anyway, Aaron lived in a massive h
ouse. No squashing together in a shared bedroom for him.

  Tav meandered, wandering up the hill slowly and in a leisurely fashion. The traffic was reasonably heavy, but the streets themselves a bit dead. Most people went into town, to go to one of the big firework displays at one of the football stadia. That was why Tav loved going up to Bole Hill. Fireworks for free, and the park was dark and a bit lonely. It was perfect for a hangout. Too far to bother with most of the time, but on the new year it was ideal.

  Plus Bole Hill Park was the first place Tav had gotten a blowjob. So yeah, good memories, traditions, all that good stuff.

  Aaron’s house was one of those posh Victorian ones, with the sharp steps going up to the front door from the road. His mam was like OCD or something, so all the lights matched in this silver and blue colour scheme, and the wreath on the front door had probably been arranged with all the precision of a major surgical procedure. Wearing rubber gloves.

  Tav knocked, and swore he could smell bleach. A moment later, he was semi-proved-right when Mrs. Kowalski—a tall, thin woman with a long nose and wearing enormous yellow rubber gloves—jerked open the door and scowled at him.

  “Yes?”

  “Uh,” Tav said. “Is Aaron in?”

  “Yes,” she said sharply, and squinted at him. “Christopher Tavistock, isn’t it?”

  “Uh, Tav, yeah…”

  She sniffed. “I don’t think so. You’re a bad influence.”

  “I’m a—what?” Tav bristled.

  “Mam? Who is it?”

  “Tav!”

  A door banged, and a head of dark hair appeared at Mrs. Kowalski’s shoulder. Luca’s hand closed like a trap around Tav’s wrist, and then he was towed past Aaron’s horse of a mother and into a hot living room. There was a fire burning in the grate, papers all over the floor, and the beginnings of a party: David was lounging in an armchair texting frantically on his phone, and pretty Emily, Aaron’s girlfriend, was decorating him with tinsel.

  “Aaron invited me over to go through this play, then these louts turned up,” Luca said. Emily threw a bauble at him. “I stand by what I said!”

  “I’m the lout,” Tav said, dropping to the carpet where Luca tugged him. “Mrs. Polack doesn’t like me.”

  “Tav!” Emily scolded. The boys just sniggered.

  “She doesn’t like anyone,” David said, still texting. “Surprised you didn’t head up with Daniel and Jan.” Luca wrinkled his nose at the mention of Jan. “They coming?”

  “Heading up on their own,” Tav said, shrugging. “I wanted to find Luca first.”

  “Told you you’d gone out without permission,” Aaron called as he elbowed his way back into the living room and sprawled out amongst the papers with Luca. “You gonna punish him, Tav?”

  “Why, you wanna watch?”

  “Aaron, think very carefully about what you say next,” Emily warned, draping a tinsel crown around David’s temples.

  “So stop groping my mates, Jesus!”

  “Tinsel hats might be your turn-on, mate, but they ain’t mine,” David retorted. Tav took advantage of their distraction to tug one of the sheets of paper away from Luca and eye it questioningly.

  “Reading through the play,” Luca said by way of explanation. “You weren’t about, I was bored and playing Call of Duty with Aaron over the net, and he said he needed to crack on learning his lines. Figured why not. ‘Specially the snit Angelo’s been in all day.”

  “Bad?”

  “He got dumped by a girl he doesn’t even like bad.”

  Tav grimaced. “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Least Mrs. Kowalski doesn’t think I’m a lout.”

  “She said I’m a bad influence.”

  “Rocking up in your leather jacket, I’m not surprised,” Luca said, and tugged at the leather. “Looking good.”

  “Thanks,” Tav replied, and snuck a brief kiss. David wolf-whistled. “Shove off.”

  “Stop macking then!”

  “Just ‘cause you’re single and lonely,” Tav sniped.

  “Not anymore,” David grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Vicky Mallard’s coming tonight and I am gonna get some.”

  “What? Picky Vicky?”

  “Old Ducky’s coming?”

  “Get what, burned?”

  David sneered at the chorus of disbelieving voices, and shrugged off his tinsel hat. “You’ll all see,” he pronounced loftily. Luca grinned, his face wild in the firelight, and Tav’s heart tugged towards him a little bit. So under cover of Emily demanding how David was supposed to get a snog off Picky Vicky, Tav leaned close and whispered into Luca’s ear.

  “You’ve not been practising kissing, have you?”

  Aaron looked up; the other two kept bickering.

  “Once or twice,” Luca said, stretching out on his back and grinning at Tav. “You’re safe, though. He’s not as good.”

  “Hey!” Aaron protested. The protest—and Luca’s dismissiveness—eased the flare of jealousy in Tav’s chest, and he smirked.

  “Suck it up, Kowalski, you’re an inferior specimen.”

  “Naff off, y’bender. And keep it in your pants for, like, one night, seriously. I don’t want gay all over my house.”

  Luca attacked Aaron with a cushion; Emily, always up for a bit of assault against her boyfriend, joined in enthusiastically with the tinsel. Tav sniggered and leaned back on his elbows to watch.

  “Why are you lot even sober?” he asked after Aaron managed to fend off the raid.

  “Because Mam’s going out in ten minutes, and then we liberate it,” Aaron said, and wrinkled his nose. “She and Dad are trying again. Again. It’s like…the fourth go—how many goes can you have before it becomes pointless?”

  “I dunno, I think it’s a miracle my ‘rents haven’t had, like, twelve more kids,” Luca said dismissively.

  “And my mam doesn’t believe in second chances, so—one go?” Tav guessed. Aaron sniggered.

  “Yeah, well, one of your sisters is black,” he said, and Tav laughed.

  “She’s half-Indian, you twat, she ain’t black!”

  Luca just laughed between them. When a male voice started rumbling in the hall, and Aaron slipped out to—do whatever, Tav leaned over and kissed Luca properly, tangling a hand into his curls.

  “Mm, thanks,” Luca murmured when Tav pulled away. “What was that for?”

  “A hint of what’s to come.”

  “Tell you something else that could be coming…”

  “Later,” Tav said, and grinned. “I’m gonna steal you for midnight.”

  “Ooh, very traditional.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Dirty or romantic?”

  “Dirty. It’s a park after dark and it’ll be freezing, it’s not romantic.”

  Luca sniggered and pinched Tav’s ear. “Let’s be dead traditional, then—treat me like a fucking princess, and I’ll go down on you at midnight in the trees.”

  * * * *

  The boom of city fireworks descended into the rapid crackle of a thousand out-of-sync rockets, and Luca’s beam dislodged Tav’s mouth.

  “Happy New Year,” he breathed, and Tav laughed. He was still dizzy from the high, pleasure thundering in his blood louder than the fireworks, and he pressed his palms against the bark of the tree and kept Luca perfectly trapped between him and it.

  “Think I came on your jeans,” Tav mumbled, burying his mouth against Luca’s ear and biting the lobe. Luca’s laugh was somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle.

  “Fucker.”

  “S’what you get for breaking your promise.”

  “What promise?” Luca’s voice was slurred, almost gentle, and Tav couldn’t tell if it was what little afterglow you could get in a Sheffield winter pressed against a tree, or alcohol.

  “Said you were gonna go down on me.”

  “Only f’you treated me like a princess,” Luca mumbled, his breath a hot wash over Tav’s jaw, and then they were kissing again, tangled together as tight as p
ossible with their winter jackets still between them. It was bitterly cold, Tav’s jeans damp from where they were touching the stain on Luca’s, and eventually it was too much and he broke away.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled, clumsily tucking himself back in. “Oh, shut up,” he smirked when Luca cackled. “Least I didn’t come in my pants.”

  “S’warmer than out,” Luca said, reeling him back in by the scarf for a messy kiss. “Might need to get my boxers off, though, they’re a bit grim.”

  “S’what you get for being an easy slapper, then.”

  “Slapper? What are you, forty?”

  “Slag.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Arsehole.”

  “You wish.”

  They were laughing in blurry earnest then, Luca’s sides shaking where Tav had hold of them in both gloved hands, and he was so annoyingly attractive for a moment that Tav pressed his nose to one of those sharp cheekbones and simply grinned stupidly for a long minute. The other lads would never let him live this down—least of all Luca—but he was fucking beautiful. That was the truth. Fucking beautiful, and―

  “So that’s you belonging to me for another year, yeah?”

  “Possessive fucker.”

  “Basically.”

  Luca beamed and mouthed at Tav’s jaw lightly. “Mm. Guess so. Aaron’s still too straight to bother turning…”

  Tav bit him.

  “Ow! Fucker!”

  “Deserved it.”

  “Fuck off I did,” Luca grumbled, then shoved. “G’wan, fuck off back to the fire and snag me a drink before your Jan downs the lot. I need to get out of my underwear.”

  “I could help.”

  “You could naff off, I’m not letting you fuck me out here, it’s too cold.” Tav got another shove, probably for the smirk he could feel creeping into place on his face, and he held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’re such a bitch. You sure your mamma had no daughters?”

  “You don’t shut your face, I’ll show you bitch like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Tav did believe it, and he wandered back with a laugh, shouting over his shoulder that if Luca didn’t hurry up, he might come back and fuck him anyway.

  He followed flashes of purple and red, his footsteps echoing oddly as though they weren’t the only ones, and broke out of the treeline into the heat of the now raging bonfire, and the jeering laugh of Jan himself when he was spotted.

 

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