Eventually, I allow the water to turn me back onto my front and lazily head back to the shoreline, guiding myself by the lights gently gleaming from the terrace. He’s up there, staring out into the night as I slowly walk up the beach towards my clothes. I doubt he can see me, but he’s thinking of me regardless. I can tell that by the way his head continues to drop a little. He’s probably chastising himself for something he won’t tell me. It’s all in his tense silhouette as he leans his hands on the wall, looking out at the view, gloriously naked. All his feelings, all his emotions. Every other person on this planet sees a tall, imposing man who cares for nothing. I don’t. I see a beautiful man who is full of thoughts, concerns, worries. One who has spent his whole life so far being kind and decent in his own way to others, freeing people and guiding them to their sanctuary. One who just needs a few more pushes to admit he needs all this as much as I do. He says he needs his peace, but he simply can’t have it until he’s ready to let it all go, whatever it is that needs to be gotten rid of. That’s why he brought me here. That’s what he needs me for. Alexander was right. I can offer something Alexander can’t. Absolute solace—if he lets me.
I don’t bother dressing as I gather up my clothes and head up along the grassy trail I came down. What’s the point? It’s not like there’s anyone here who doesn’t understand the freedom I’m currently appreciating. Ruebin knows, Pascal certainly knows, and I’m not the least bit concerned being naked around him anyway, and Thomas? Well, if he doesn’t know now, he soon will. Training? Ha. I wonder what Thomas’s training will be. How does one become the ruler of such an empire with an uncle like Pascal sniffing at his back all the time? Turbulently, I assume. Poor boy. And the staff… I couldn’t care less what they think of me prancing around naked. They’re paid to work, not to question why I’m naked. So, I just rub at my hair, squeezing out what’s left of the lake water and cleansing myself more with deep lungfuls of the sweet scent that lingers here. It must be the purple flowers that grow everywhere. They crawl up the house, winding their way over everything in vines and creating the perfect image of tranquillity, of a home. Even if it is a crumbling wreck at present.
“Are you ready to talk yet?” I call up as I cross the track beneath the terrace area, then continue to walk past him and around to the main entrance. He huffs, but it is followed by a small chuckle and movement. Maybe he is. Probably not, but we can do round two if he likes. My stomach rumbles at me. The next argument needs to involve food.
An old woman hurries past me as I walk into the building, looking at the floor and tutting at my nakedness. Fuck her. She works for Pascal, for God’s sake. She should be used to such things. I stare up at the majesty of the space around me, gazing at the intricate bosses on the ceiling and trying to work out what they say. Si vis Amari, ama. No clue. Alea iacta est. Nope, still nothing. A Latin reader I am not, although I do at least recognise it from all the law papers I worked on late into the night. Perhaps I should get more involved in learning it, given that I want to train further. Definitely. It suddenly strikes me, mid-gaze, that perhaps, given the privacy of this place and his wistful gazes at its structure, he’s not brought anyone here before.
I look in the direction the tutting woman walked. Maybe she’s not used to half naked bodies after all. Still, fuck her. I’m naked, and not in the slightest bit ashamed of it. Plus, I’m on holiday, after a fashion. I will continue to be naked as long as I damn well please.
Another younger woman arrives in front of me a few minutes later, holding up a towel. I assume it’s to hide my nakedness. Sweet. I smirk at her as she gazes at the floor waiting for me to take it, prolonging the moment a little more just to let her know that I will not be ordered to cover up. Eventually, I take it from her and towel off my hair. She scuttles off quickly, and thankfully leaves me searching the area for things of interest, anything that might give me more insight into the man I love.
There’s nothing, no sense of him at all. In fact, apart from the obvious decadence of the castle-like building, there isn’t even a sense of home inside of it. It’s almost as if it’s been abandoned, like someone took what they could and then left, leaving all the heavy furniture behind but taking anything personal with them.
It really is lovely in an over the top kind of way. I amble through the rooms, still searching and glancing at things. It’s huge. Every room has wide, ornate double doors leading into the next, each one offering elegance and sophistication, but it’s all cold and unloved. It’s desperately in need of care, of being turned into a home. It should be filled with children and laughter, with cooks and nannies running around. People holidaying, enjoying themselves. Or perhaps just sitting by a fire reading, whiling away the hours and enjoying its tranquillity. The next room I turn into houses just that—a huge roaring fire. Both Thomas and Ruebin are sitting beside it, staring at each other. They’re so in love, or lust. I’m not sure which. I wonder what Pascal thinks about that?
Best find that out, too.
“Don’t mind me,” I say, walking straight past them and smiling. Neither of them drags their gaze from the other. Thomas appears to catch me in his peripheral vision, his brow raising at my nakedness in exactly the same way Pascal’s would.
“You’re so much like your uncle, you know?” I say, giggling at the serious look he’s attempting. He’s too young for seriousness, and I frown at the thought as I keep walking and heading in the general direction of the terrace. He should be out there, running amuck and fucking things up. Enjoying himself, finding out who he is, what he wants.
“What does Si vi amari, ama mean?” I ask, eventually turning onto the open terrace space and seeing Pascal still standing in the same position. He’s still looking downwards and still entirely naked. “You could scare the cooks like that, you know?” He lifts his head to the sky, his back muscles stretching his scars as he inhales deeply.
“If you wish to be loved, love.”
Oh, how apt. I smile at the words, dump my clothes on the table and walk across to him, leaning on the balustrade to look at his concerned face. Pushing myself past his arm to get in front of him, I hitch myself up onto it. He smiles quietly but doesn’t move so I pull his arse into me with my feet as I wrap them around his waist, hopefully showing togetherness, and smile in response. Whatever happens, I do love him, everything about him, especially the way his brow dips in confusion. And definitely the way he’s trying to deny any of this, challenging me to tempt him into saying it. I gaze into emerald depths and sigh out, waiting for some inspirational thought process to tell me how to make this work. There’s nothing but fields of green and lazy Sunday afternoons floating around, though. Just us and some semblance of normality.
“I do love you,” I say, blatantly telling him the only thing that matters. It doesn’t really make any difference how these days pan out or where we end up. I love him. He’s beautiful, complicated, odd, and so firmly lodged inside my chest I’d be foolish to either deny it or keep the emotion from him. We are. It’s as simple as that. We may be a little lost, and we’re definitely shadowing the edges of regularity, but we still are.
“As I love you.” Mmm. I smile again, just revelling in those words falling from his mouth. We seem to have come so far since I first saw him in The Parlour, and yet there still seems to be so far to travel with him. Maybe it’s me who has come a long way and not him. Maybe my giant leaps are just small inclinations forward for him, just little bits of information to let me know I get more than any other.
“Alexander asked me once what I thought you wanted. I didn’t know the answer. I do now.” The corners of his mouth twitch a little, showing me his amusement at my continued attempts at probing, which I will do for fucking ever if he lets me. It’s my job. If I’m the only one he’ll let inside to give him a home of sorts then I’ll keep pushing until he can’t keep things from me anymore.
“Educate me,” he says, putting his hands on my thighs softly and looking down into my face with another serious frow
n. “Because I am not sure I do.”
His words cause my smile to broaden as I see the furrow in his brow deepening. I reach for it, pushing my thumb into the crevice and trying to iron out the doubt. He does know. He’s always known. Everyone needs someone to collapse into, to fall apart on, even the likes of him. He may be bold and unabashed, but the person I know lingers inside just wants some love to be bestowed without prejudice or recrimination. And as long as it’s the truth, I’ll never judge him for anything. How could I? He’s given so much to so many in his own way, regardless of his outwardly selfish disposition.
“You want to tell someone the truth, don’t you?”
He snorts instantly then continues to gaze at my face, pulling away from me a little, trying to create the distance he deems necessary for him to close a door. I grab tighter with my feet, latching them together and keeping us close. We’re safe there.
“You want safety and comfort as much as the next human, Pascal. And you want it from me. You wouldn’t have asked for any of this if you didn’t. You wouldn’t have asked me to beat you, you wouldn’t have asked me to train for this, you wouldn’t have told me you loved me, and you certainly wouldn’t have brought me here, would you?”
My words are followed by silence—silence and staring as he breathes slowly and lets the sounds of the night fill the air. Birds chatter quietly, the trees lazily rustle in the slight breeze, and the occasional noise signals fireworks in Rome. I just keep gazing and waiting, hoping that he’ll give up whatever it is that hurts so much.
“This truth you ask for could be damaging to your sanity,” he eventually whispers.
“Damaging enough to risk this fairytale for? I will leave you if you don’t tell me. I will have to.”
“Mmm.” He tightens his grip on my thighs and pulls me forward into his chest, presumably attempting to initiate sex, which I’m quite clearly up for, but it isn’t answering questions that need answering.
A maid comes out onto the terrace, breaking our continued gaze and causing me to snarl at her presence. How dare she interrupt our moments? They’re mine, not hers. I swing my head to her as I watch her lay out some food, coffee and cutlery on the table, then scowl at her as she hurries away again, fiddling with her apron as she does.
“You grow stronger by the day, my love.”
I look back at him to find him admiring his handiwork, apparently pleased with my new and improved demeanour. He can have that, I suppose. Him and Alexander, anyway. Without the pair of them, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Literally. Although, he better not be feeling amused by it. I’ll rip his throat out if he is. I glare at him in response, challenging him to say something funny. He doesn’t. He just smiles again, barely containing his aggressive fingers, and then lets me go completely to walk away to the table.
“Food, hmm?” he says, breaking some bread and then disappearing inside the house.
I jump down from the cold granite beneath me and head over to the table, lifting the lid off the pot and smiling at the contents. It’s some sort of casserole, which smells like heaven as tomatoes and rich sauce permeate the air. He comes back a minute later carrying blankets, just as I’m dunking a bit of the bread into the liquor, and chuckles at me.
“Are you ravenous?”
Yes. For lots of things, him included. A good meal, and then more probing is what we need. Either that or a good fucking. Or both together… That seems to work. At the moment, I don’t care. I’ll get it out of him. He’ll have no choice, and if he doesn’t tell me then we’ll move forward another way, separately. It’s his choice. I’ve made myself clear. For now, I’m just going to enjoy my holiday in probably the most beautiful location in the world.
He drapes one of the blankets over an old metal chair then inclines his hand at it. I go and sit as he pulls up another one and does the same. It feels odd for a few seconds, sitting here naked and eating, but it soon becomes yet another normal thing to do with him. There’s no embarrassment or sense of humiliation. It’s calming in some ways to be so open and on display, as if this is our true selves. It makes me wonder how many other couples can be so honest with themselves. Do others do this sort of thing? I’ve certainly never done it before, not that I’ve ever had anyone serious enough to do it with. Or had balls big enough.
“What do you think of the house?” he asks as I dunk more bread into my bowl, apparently deciding our other conversation is of no importance.
“It’s tired,” I reply. “Just like its owner.”
“You believe me exhausted?”
“Yep. Thoroughly. Perhaps when you give up whatever you’re ashamed about you’ll feel better.”
I reach for the ladle, spooning some more casserole into my bowl and ripping at more bread. Christ, I’m hungry. When was the last time I ate? He chuckles at me and carries on with his elegant fork and knife routine rather than devouring as I am.
After several thousand more spoonsful, I realise that I’m simply being a pig and push the cutlery together and away from me.
“Satisfied?”
“Not in the slightest,” I reply, smiling at his body and imagining something that should not be imagined while eating, but then we are naked. It’s hard not to imagine fucking when he’s lounging there looking all edible.
“Are you ever?”
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Will you ever cease?”
“Not. As you would say. Do you want me to? Just call Alexander’s plane back. I’ll pop off back to New York in a jiffy. But, if I remember rightly, you asked me to come with you, didn’t you? To talk.” I flick my hand at the building behind me, leaning back and crossing my legs. “And from what I can gather, so you could show me something. Have we got any wine?”
He gets up immediately and leaves the terrace, disappearing back into the house and leaving me highly unsure of why he’s gone. Is he getting wine or pissed off at my continued questioning? I have no idea, but it’s getting a bit chilly so I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and lift my legs onto the other chair so that I can gaze out at the lake.
“Even if I chose to send you away, I could not,” he suddenly says, erupting back into my line of vision, cock on display and overshadowing any element of serenity. Although, I suppose that is my serenity in some ways. Or it would be if he’d just tell me the fucking truth. “Alexander has called it back.”
Has he? Well, good thing he’s alive enough to do so. Hopefully that means my job’s still on the cards as relevant and long term. He pours deep, red wine into crystal cut glasses and hands me one, all the time still swinging his cock around in my eye-line.
“It’s quite beautiful,” I say, not even trying to look away from him. I like looking at him and his cock, regardless of his mind getting in the way.
“My cock or the vista?”
“Both, but mainly the cock.”
He laughs, filling the air with the most enchanting sound. He owns the space around us with every chuckle, proving the building should be full of it. Even the brickwork seems to rumble with him, as if the very thought of happiness fills it with glee, or love maybe. Oh God, it’s all here to be harnessed. Fairytales and rainbows, or our version of them. I look up to see him smiling and laughing, shaking his head as though something is preposterous and should be dismissed as ridiculous. It’s not. None of this is if he just embraces it and tells me why he brought me here. I couldn’t give a damn about the bricks and mortar, lovely as they are. It’s what haunts him at night that I want. The whys. The hows. Facts, details. I can help rebuild what’s sitting here waiting for us then, brace us together and find the route forward even with my job. He wants it. He just needs to give it up for me to take hold of for him.
His laughter subsides as I keep watching him and let my smile remain on my face. Everything stills, as if even the terrace and building are waiting for the answers. Owls call in the sky to each other, only highlighting the need for him to open up, as if they’re showing us the way in such a beautiful l
andscape. Perhaps they’re calling us home, too.
“I cannot, my love. I refuse to.”
He will, though. I turn my head away from him and sip at my wine instead. I might as well enjoy the scenery. This is my first trip to Italy after all. I stare over at Rome, imagining the city centre. The Vatican, the Colosseum, Spanish steps, the Trevi fountain. All things I’m sure are mundane to the man beside me, but not to me. I’m desperate to see them, if only to tick them off my new and improved bucket list.
“So, speaking of fairytales, what does Rome have to offer, other than this place?”
He snorts again then walks over to me and picks me up, which is entirely Neanderthal and completely appropriate given our nakedness. I don’t look at him as he meanders inside and wanders through to the hall again, bypassing Ruebin and Thomas, who are still gazing at each other.
“They should get a room,” I whisper into his chest, nuzzling my face in further as I feel it rumble with another amused chortle.
“You see everything now, yes?” Yes, I suppose I do. Though it’s not hard to notice. Thomas’ whole new strong demeanour softens when Ruebin smiles. It’s what love does to people, even the debauched kind. I look up at the boss again as he begins to climb the stairs.
“Transit umbra, lux permanet?”
“Shadows pass, light remains.”
“Si vis pacem, para bellum?” He chuckles.
“That one always reminds me of Alexander. If you require peace, prepare for war.” Hmm. I think I remember there being a B, E and L on his tattoo. Perhaps that said Bellum. And then the ceiling boss that caught my eye earlier comes into view, the one that was gold leafed with ornate blue details.
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