by Willa Okati
Adriano choked out a laugh and buried his head in the pillow next to Rick’s. All his long, golden limbs were a-tremble and his breath hot and rough. “Rick,” he purred, body going slack atop Rick’s. He slipped out, kissing under Rick’s ear at the same time. “You do not even know how much…”
Rick grasped Adriano by the back of the neck and held him still. “Oh, yes,” he growled. “I do.”
Chapter Thirteen
After a full night’s decadence and a lie-in that lasted well into the afternoon ‑‑ what, they were young men in the prime of their sexual prowess and had a good deal of time to make up for ‑‑ growling bellies finally drove Rick out of bed and where he went, Adriano followed. The poor fellow looked anticipatory, a hopeful smile on his face.
Rick winced. He’d soon learn.
It took a great deal of effort, but Rick managed to keep a perfectly straight face whilst Adriano, dressed only in a pair of Rick’s own jockeys, puttered around his small excuse for a kitchen and grew more and more dismayed. Bless his heart, no matter what else he might have forgotten, apparently Adriano remembered a taste for good food well prepared, and at the very least his subconscious was horrified at the pecuniary pickings of Rick’s bachelor larder.
Either that, or he had a working nose. Rick had to admit his refrigerator wasn’t what you’d call a marvel of organization nor cleanliness. When did I last remember to clean that out? he thought with a prickle of discomfort.
“Sorry,” he said, striving for a casual note, reaching for the coffee supplies. Adriano preferred a good strong jolt of espresso over tea, as he well recalled, and while he couldn’t do “good” he could accomplish “strong,” strong enough, in fact, to melt a spoon. “I’ve been a bit lax on housekeeping lately. Had things on my mind, haven’t I? Like hoping you’d find me, or I’d find you.”
Nice one, he congratulated himself with a mental pat on the back. Strike out the negative and give him a happy thought all in one breath. Good job, you.
He snuck a peek back to see Adriano standing in front of the open cooler, a shriveled tomato in one hand and a plastic-wrapped chunk of…something…in the other. He discarded it and picked up another blob of whatever that Rick thought might be provolone. Might be.
“Rick.” Adriano stared at the block of ungracefully aging cheese of uncertain provenance, prodding it with his forefinger as though it’d help him identify the muck. “Is this a joke? You truly eat like this?”
“Unfortunately, love, there’s no humor to that particular situation. I forget to eat more often than not, and when I do I can’t often be bothered to fix more than something basic,” Rick said honestly, setting down the coffee fixings and turning around to fully face Adriano. “Microwave bits and bobs, pickled whatever, cheese on toast, salads when the vegetables aren’t halfway to rotten; sometimes I’ll boil a dozen eggs and have them for a day or so. And then boil some more. I don’t make it to the store very often.”
“So I see. You do not have a car?” Adriano frowned unhappily. “If you do not, I do not remember this.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Rick caught Adriano by the wrist before he could slap his head. “That’s quite enough of that. D’you think banging yourself about is actually going to help?”
Adriano scowled at him, trying to tug free; for all the pique in his body language, his expression was miserable. “But I should know these things. I am too stupid to ‑‑”
“And that is all I’m going to hear about that.” Rick shut him up with a rough kiss, satisfied at the much better flavor of “dazed” to Adriano when he drew back. “Look, love, you’re neither stupid nor dumb, nor any other name you’d like to call yourself, but which I won’t let you.”
A flicker of heat flared in Adriano’s eyes ‑‑ only for a moment, but long enough for Rick to take highly interested note of. Hmm. Now plus a bit of this and that then…does our Adriano get off on being ordered about every now and again? Oh, this could be a lot of fun, couldn’t it?
He shook himself out of his sex-induced reverie. Lord, Adriano had him acting like a hormone-ridden teenager at the best of times, and he wasn’t stopping now. Rick had to do it for both of them because, to tell the truth, if he didn’t get his paws on something edible soon, his stomach would likely try to digest itself.
“It’s all right,” he reassured. “Tell you what. We can make the drive to a market tomorrow and stock up properly, though I’ll have to get a cookbook of some kind ‑‑ preferably marketed for the truly thick ‑‑ or it’ll all be instant noodles.” He snorted at Adriano’s wrinkled nose. “You’ll have to remind me about that.”
Adriano faltered. “Rick…”
“Hey.” Rick plucked up a coffee spoon and pointed at him with it. “You can remember. I’m trusting you to do that ‑‑”
“When you know I will forget. Are you making fun of me?” Adriano propped himself against the refrigerator and crossed his arms, looking mutinous, the effect a bit spoiled by the Provolone still in his grasp, but still sufficiently alarming.
Oh-oh, best head that off at the pass. “Not at all,” Rick replied, walking to him. “I’ve got faith in you, that’s it. Here’s one thing you’ll never forget.” He took the alarming cheese from Adriano and waved it under his nose.
Ah, there was a smile. Adriano huffed and turned his head, pretending to choke. “Malodorous.”
“And then some. You’ll remember the horridness of this cheese, you will, and when you think of it, this ‑‑” he said, tapping lightly over Adriano’s temple ‑‑”reminds you that we need proper food, and that reminds you what an awful housekeeper and cook I am, and that in turn makes you want to teach me a lesson ‑‑”
Adriano’s lips curled up at one corner, taking him from fretful to sex on legs in point nil seconds. “I prefer lessons that take place in the bedroom.”
“No one ever said you couldn’t have amazing sex in a kitchen.”
“Have we done so before?”
As if; Rick doubted Adriano had ever been in a kitchen he wasn’t touring once in his life. Until now. “No, that’s still on the checklist. Tell you what. I’ll let you cover me in jam and lick me clean.”
Adriano’s nostrils flared. “Now I know I will remember the shopping.”
Rick shifted his weight to adjust the interested weight of his filling cock in his shorts. Fuel first, he scolded his errant inner horndog. “Good!” He slapped Adriano with care on his stomach. “And when you remember the shopping and the jam tongue bath, you’ll remember the cookbook we need so we’re not just eating jam.”
“And eggs. And whatever this is. Love, may I please throw it away?” Adriano looked pleadingly at the suspect cheese, albeit with a twinkle in his eye.
“Be my guest.” Rick settled back, tipping his head to one side to better study Adriano. “Tell you what…I was going to suggest this earlier, but you got me well distracted. Hush, that’s not a criticism; I could happily let you lead me around by the tangents all day long. However, now that I’ve circled back around to the point: what would you say to an early-ish dinner out at a splendid trattoria I’ve heard of not too far away?”
Adriano brightened beautifully. “Do they have good food?”
“The best.” Rick kissed his fingertips reverently. “From what I’ve heard they’ve got a lovely menu, they do. Prosciutto and mushrooms in basil with mozzarella, gnocchi fit for a king, all full of sausage and herbs with a gorgeous cream sauce, and soups that’ll make you weep, they’re so packed with flavor. And tiramisu, if you’d like. Tiramisu the angels are jealous of. And caffè stretto, too.”
Adriano looked as if he’d start drooling at any moment. “Yes,” he agreed, husky as if physically aroused ‑‑ which, actually, he was, as Rick saw when he checked. “Per favore. Now?”
“Soon as you get dressed. Doubt my togs will fit you well, but ‑‑”
Adriano had already zoomed past Rick, making a beeline for the bedroom. “I will hunt until I find something decent,” he called.
&
nbsp; “Don’t worry too much; it’s a casual sort of place.”
Adriano popped his head back around the corner, smile blinding. “Then I am sure I will adore it all the more.”
Rick marveled at the changes in his old lover, his true love. God, that this could last forever…he thought wistfully, biting his tongue over the urge to say it out loud. Adriano wouldn’t understand.
He cleared his throat. “Go on, now, get yourself cleaned up. I’ll make sure the car’s worthy of driving, and if it’s not, we’ll walk. Then I’ll change, and I’ll take you out for the best meal of your life.”
Adriano laughed. “As it will be the first I recall, then I am sure you predict accurately.” He licked his lips. “Rick?”
“Yes?”
“I remember the cookbook.” He twinkled wickedly at Rick before disappearing around the corner again, leaving Rick to laugh with delight.
Hamish trotted through to the kitchen and plopped down at Rick’s feet, barking quizzically at him.
“Hush, you,” Rick said, stripping the plastic off the cheese and tossing it to Hamish. He ate it right up, the canine garbage disposal. “You like him as much as I do. What do you say we keep him?”
Hamish yapped, jumping up on his hind legs and planting his forepaws on Rick’s thigh. He rubbed the mutt’s ears idly.
“Indeed,” he said. “I think it’s the best idea ever, too.”
Chapter Fourteen
“You’re sure you’re comfortable enough?” Rick drummed his fingers on the roof of his not so gently aging Peugeot, an alarming shade of orange not found in nature, pitted with dents and dotted with spots of rust. When he’d bought the old junker, he’d half wondered if the locals were taking the opportunity to have one over on the outsider.
“It is fine, Rick; stop worrying so.” Adriano peered up at him from his place in the passenger seat, frowning only briefly before the return of his startlingly cheerful smile. “Do you want us to bring half the insects in Italy along for the ride? No?” He poked Rick’s thigh. “Get in, my heart, and let’s go. I am ravenous.”
“There’s a shocker.”
“Shush. Feed me.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n.” Rick patted the bonnet of his car. “Or maybe you’re not as hungry as you think you are. I mean, it’s only olive oil and basil and some nice tender rib meat and maybe some escarpone. That’s not too appetizing, is it?” he teased.
“Rick,” Adriano warned, threatening to nudge him a second time. He’d make it hurt, too, the mischievous bugger.
Rick batted playfully back, purposely missing by a considerable margin. “Impatient. You’ve still got that in spades, too. Hands away ‑‑ good.” Once Adriano had settled docilely into the passenger seat, gazing at Rick with the cloying faux innocence of a plaster cherub, Rick closed the door securely and crossed to the driver’s side.
“To think I’m driving you,” he muttered as he went, remembering the pride Adriano used to take in his glossy sports cars and how he coveted the latest Lamborghinis. “Ferrying you around in a Peugeot, no less. The more things change, the less they stay the same, eh?” He waved at Adriano in case Adriano’s mind had wandered, not wanting to alarm him, before cracking open the driver’s door with a mighty screech of rusted hinges and crawling cautiously in.
Adriano regarded him with both fondness and exasperation in the curve of his lips. “I’m not made of glass, Rick, my heart.”
“Of course you’re not. Snips and snails and iron nails, that’s what a man like you is made of.”
Adriano threw his head back and chortled for delight. “Buffoon.”
“Nothing of the sort!” Rick protested, laughing along with him. “If you must know, I was only just distracted by thinking about how handsome you look today. That’s all.”
“A fine charmer you are, my signor.”
“Not at all; only around you. You bring it out in me.” Rick reached to check Adriano’s seat belt, taking the opportunity to cop a feel. He did like what he found under his questing fingers.
“You’re studying me so intently, love,” Adriano pointed out, though slyly, as if he didn’t mind in the least being the focus of Rick’s attention. “Am I that ugly, or am I that beautiful?”
“Beautiful,” Rick snorted, even as he skimmed his palm up the taut length of Adriano’s outer thigh and from there up his arm to the shoulder and paused with his fingertips on the pulse beating below Adriano’s ear. “Men aren’t beautiful.”
Adriano watched Rick intently, moistening his lips uncertainly. “Then what am I?”
“Dazzling as the sun,” Rick said quietly, cradling Adriano’s cheek in his hand. Adriano made a small, contented noise and nuzzled into his palm; Rick had to close his eyes and look quickly away. Being this close to Adriano provoked his libido dangerously near to the limits of what he thought he could bear without jumping his bones right there in the Peugeot, even after such a glut of sexual reveling as he’d enjoyed so recently.
Adriano laughed. “Am I? As you say, then. But to me, you are beautiful. And yes, I know you are a man. You are still beautiful in my eyes.”
“God, Adriano.” Rick forced a chuckle, wincing at how raggedly it emerged. He reached determinedly for the keys and thrust them in the ignition, glad for the distraction of the Peugeot’s choking, coughing attempts to start. “This car’s well older than I am. You’d never be able to tell, would you?”
“Shush. It serves its purpose.” Adriano shrugged. “I know from most recent experience that I can ride you all night long before, si? Then despite its age, this car should be quite capable of carrying us to ‑‑ where are we going? Have I forgotten?” He turned anxiously on Rick, either oblivious to Rick’s flustered reaction to his casual innuendo or pushing past it in his upset. “Rick?”
“It’s all right,” Rick said after a beat, recovering as much of his composure as he could. “Don’t try to push your mind too far at once, eh? I don’t mind telling you again. We’re going to a nice trattoria. Luscious food and plenty of it. I’ve heard, though I’m the one who forgot to tell you this earlier, that supposedly they’ve got the flavor of Venice to their food, if you’d believe that out here. Suppose that’s akin to a Mexican restaurant in Canada, but there you have it.”
“Venice,” Adriano mused, distracted. “This makes my memory tingle. Tell me, Adriano, do I like Venice as much as I now think I might?”
Rick saw, in his mind’s eye, a wildly colored set of photographs of Adriano during Carnivale, cavorting with a man in a devil’s mask, young and free and far too much personality for one body to reasonably contain. They hadn’t been snapped yet, but by hook or by crook they would be, as soon as he had the funds together to take his lover on holiday. “You adore Venice,” he replied. “All you need’s the reminder. Now, hang on tight and pray the engine lasts. Here we go.”
* * * * *
“Good! Cows, cypress trees, a sleeping cat, and a single boot in the road.” Rick thought he might be more interested in their impromptu “memory” game than Adriano, although Adriano lit up considerably every time they saw something interesting to add to the list that he would recite back to Rick.
Adriano nibbled at his fingernail, something Rick had never seen him do. He wondered if it was a childhood habit Adriano had trained himself out of. “I wonder what happened to the other boot.”
“As do I,” Rick remarked, surprised yet pleased when Adriano reacted with a broad smile. “Do you see anything else you want to try and remember next?”
“Let me make sure, first. Cows, cypress trees, sleeping cat, boot,” Adriano repeated as if to himself. “Are you planning to make flash cards for me once we’re home? Then I can remember cup, saucer, lamp, and condom.”
Rick hooted. He did appreciate Adriano’s new, wry humor, laced with easygoing humility instead of arch wittiness. “Lamp and condom? Why not lube and condom?”
Adriano grinned good-naturedly. “If you like. The one goes hand-in-hand, or cock-in-hand with the o
ther, though, doesn’t it?” He nudged Rick with his elbow, sobering. “Rick?”
The hesitant questioning in his tone made Rick’s nerves tingle unpleasantly, a sharp contrast to the mellow sense of arousal that had been about to develop. “Yes?” he responded, carefully changing lanes for an excuse to look away. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no. I don’t think so.” Adriano exhaled heavily. “I do not remember what you like. I should know this.”
“What do I like?” Rick asked, keeping it light. “Books, I suppose. Stationer’s shops with fountain pens and ink, and laptops with good battery life. I like cream sauces better than tomato.”
“That’s not what I mean, as I am sure you know,” Adriano retorted, amusement thankfully returning. “I look at you, Rick, and I want you.”
“Always good to know,” Rick hedged, sensing a “but” approaching.
He wasn’t wrong.
“But when you look at me, I…” Adriano gestured impatiently. “Something is lacking, Rick, and I can only guess it is that you are disappointed in me.”
“What? No,” Rick protested. He relented and glanced at Adriano, attempting to smile. “It’s not that at all.” And truly, it wasn’t. So what was he on about?
“Then what is it? I desire you, Rick; my body tells me that I want to have your hands on me, and your lips, and I am empty inside with the want of you.”
“Jesus,” Rick whispered, tempted to squirm. This from the one and only top’s top, Adriano Dominici. Repressed desires, I see, he thought with a small “that figures” huff of breath.
“And see? I speak of sex, and you begin to blush and fidget like a virgin damsel.” He looked genuinely disturbed now. “Am I no good in bed, my signor, and you hesitate to tell me this? Or do I make you so uncomfortable with this honesty?”
“Some, yes,” Rick allowed. He seized on the least complicated excuse, thankfully a valid one, and proffered it in the hopes of soothing Adriano’s growing upset. The last thing the Peugeot was equipped to handle would be a hysterically disturbed grown man gesticulating wildly as he ranted and raved. “Calm down. You’re too much of a temptation, Adriano, especially when you talk about sex, and I don’t want to ravage you before I’ve had a decent meal.”