by BA Tortuga
“Mmm. That’s like ice cream, yeah? I’m a fan.” His jeans were hugging him like he was wearing them for work. Lord.
“Sì. Creamy and good. We’ll take it home….” And do stuff. Oh, God.
“You? Are enough to drive a man into palpitations.”
“Oh, Dale.” Gen laughed for him, that booming sound drawing glances. And the waiter. “Sì, sì, we go now. Il conto, per favore.”
The bill came, the bill went, and from the waiter’s look of glee, he’d bet the tip had been a lot better than most. He sorta felt bad, letting Gen pay for everything, but the fact was he didn’t have much and he just…. Well. Shit. There just wasn’t a good answer.
Gen didn’t seem to mind. Hell, maybe he thought he had to. Like to keep Dale happy. Oh, now. That could deflate a guy straight away. Shit. “How much do I owe you for my half of supper?”
“Pardon?” Turning, Gen stopped them right in the middle of a cobbled street, staring. “Nothing, caro. It was my pleasure.”
“You sure? I… I don’t want you to think you…. I mean. I. Shit.” He sucked at this.
“Think what?” Dark brows lowered over Gen’s eyes, lines appearing between them. “I want us to enjoy the holiday. I am not trying to buy you, Dale.”
“No. No, that’s not.” He took a deep breath and tried again. “I don’t want you to think that I’m here because you have money. Even though, well, if you didn’t, I couldn’t, which sort of convolutes the whole fucking thing, but I know what I mean.” Christ, Dale. Shut the fuck up.
Now Gen’s face smoothed out, those eyes twinkling for him. “Precisely. We are complicated, you and I. But I am glad you are here, and I have far more money than I can possibly use. So. Come and get ice cream with me.”
Complicated. Yeah. Yeah, but good. They had a good time. “Okay. Yeah. What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Pistachio. And it must be real. Not made from a mix. If the pistachio looks more gray than bright green, it will be amazing.” The man lit up, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. Throngs of people wandered in and out of squares, chatting. Looked like late-night strolls were a thing in Italy.
“Gray is not a good food color, darlin’. You know this, right?”
“Well, not if it is… how would you say, fuzzy. But this is more… green-dotted white?” Oh, yeah. That sounded appetizing.
He chuckled, shook his head. “So far you haven’t killed me. Hell, supper didn’t taste like Newtons, so I’ll trust you. Gray ice cream it is.” Hell, God knew Aunt Chrissy made that black walnut stuff that one year, and it didn’t kill anybody.
In the end, he had the choice of about a hundred flavors. The gelateria, which was a damned fancy name for an ice cream parlor, had a long wooden counter and wooden booths and the grumpiest damned old man behind the counter, but the ice cream? Oh, damn.
“Okay, I didn’t think there was anything better than Blue Bell, but damn.” He grinned over at Gen, shook his head. Fucking cold outside and they were eating ice cream. Lord.
“I shall have to try Blue Bell.” He’d bet Gen would too, sitting at a picnic somewhere, smiling and laughing and fitting right in.
“Mmm. Peaches and cream. You’ll love it. Almost as much as cobbler.”
“Mmm.” Gen smiled. “Shall we go home now?”
“I think I can manage that.” He nodded, grinned back, licking the ice cream off his upper lip.
Those eyes cut to his, the heat there contrasting with the easy grin. “Good. I need, caro.”
“I hear you.” Yeah, since way before the figs. Hell, before the artichokes.
“You are an addiction, caro.” Gen led the way through a seemingly endless but pretty damned quick bunch of twists and turns, and before he knew it they were back at the palazzo and out of ice cream. But that was okay. He had kisses the second they got inside.
He groaned into Gen’s mouth, their tongues rubbing together, mouths going from cold to fucking hot in heartbeats. Gen tasted him like he was a bigger delicacy than anything they’d had for supper, tongue pushing into his mouth over and over. It felt like Gen wanted to eat him right up.
His hands pushed up, tugging at Gen’s shirt as he hunted for skin. Those little nipples were tight and dark, that belly enough to feast on. The muscles under that fine flesh twitched for him, flexing, giving him a show. Gen moaned, going up on tiptoe, so ready to enjoy sex just as he did a good meal. Hot. So hot.
Dale slid down to his knees, graceful as he could, lips parted as his tongue dragged and licked along those ripped muscles.
“Dale… oh. Sweet. Your mouth.” Gen knocked his hat off stroking his hair, fingers digging in. The man had the warmest skin, like they hadn’t even been outside in the cold.
“Mmm-hmm.” He licked the skin about Gen’s belly button, let his hands splay over Gen’s hips, thumbs gliding over the fabric covering that thick, heavy shaft.
“More. Per favore, caro.” Now Gen massaged his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscles, keeping him on the verge of overheating but relaxed.
“Uh-huh. More.” He kept kissing and nibbling, fingers working open Gen’s slacks as he tried to get more skin, more Gen.
Gen helped, fingers easing over his hips as those clever hands dug in and got rid of the slacks, pushing them down for him. Gen’s cock jumped out, caressing along his cheek, musky and hot as anything. His moan surprised him, loud enough to echo. His hips started moving, riding a little. Christ, he’d remember that smell forever.
“Sì. Tesoro. Caro….” Hot words he couldn’t understand for the life of him started falling, Gen’s hands clutching more than petting now. There was this moment, this little whoosh, where Gen, like, lost it for him. It happened every time, smooth and suave going to uhn, please. God, it was so good.
The skin of Gen’s prick fascinated him, so soft on his tongue, so fucking sensitive. He closed his eyes, focused on the flavors and the smells, on the way it felt on his lips. Gen’s balls nudged his chin as he worked down, showing him how hard Gen arched into his touch. He could hear Gen panting, hear the words trail off into constant moans.
He took his good, sweet time, tongue sliding over the thin foreskin, pushing within to flick at the wet slit, gathering the flavor of Gen. A long, harsh moan sounded, Gen’s hips pumping hard, more drops dropping over his tongue, faster and faster. Gen was so damned close. Dale felt it in every tremor.
Finally Dale relaxed, let Gen in deep, lips wrapping around the base of Gen’s cock as he pulled hard.
“Dale!” Gen came for him, hard and hot, spurting into his mouth. He had to swallow hard to get it all. He kept sucking and humming, head moving careful and slow, drawing out the aftershocks.
“Oh, caro.” Pulling him away slowly, Gen tilted his face up and sank down to kiss him, tongue tracing his lips.
He whimpered, hips rolling, fucking the air, cock rubbing against the denim.
Gen didn’t leave him needing. Never left him needing. The man opened his jeans and grabbed his cock, thumb rubbing the underside.
“Gen. I need. Lord, your hands….” He pushed into the kiss, if for nothing else than to shut himself up.
“Mmm.” The moan echoed into his mouth, Gen stroking him, loving on him so good that his hips started snapping like he was dancing to really good music.
His thighs were hard, the blood rushing through him, heat spraying from his cock.
Gen smiled for him, rubbed him, watching him with those bright eyes like he was the eighth wonder of the world. “So beautiful, caro,” Gen said. “So very beautiful.”
“I. Damn. Gen.” Yeah. Words. Words were good.
“Mmm.” Gen looked about, his eyebrows going up. “We are on the floor. In the atrium.”
“Uh-huh. Is that against the rules?” It was a pretty damn room.
“Of course not. Nothing is against the rules with us, caro.” One finger traced down his cheek. “I simply cannot remember ever being so eager.”
“It was a good, good supper.” He
turned his head, kissed that finger. “Real good.”
“It was. We should do it again. Soon.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Yeah, they should. They might ought to go explore that big bathtub again too.
Or the library. Or that big-assed room that had this weird tufted couch thing right in the middle. It might be a ballroom….
With Gen? The possibilities were endless.
THE AMALFI Coast was one of the most beautiful landscapes in the world.
Even in winter, when the convertible would have been too brisk, Gen loved to drive the winding roads to his home, listening to the waves and watching the clouds change out over the sea. He never tired of it, from the whitewashed buildings with terra-cotta roofs stacked nearly to the water to the long piers and the boats out on the water.
Seeing it through Dale’s eyes was even better. A treat. Better than lemon candy.
Dale stared, fascinated by everything, face shadowed by that hat. “You grew up here? Lord. It’s just amazing, darlin’. I mean it.”
“I did. I cannot wait for you to see my house. It is much less imposing than the one in Rome.” Well, at least he thought it was.
“Yeah? Well, given that my apartment is smaller than your bathroom, I bet I’ll be impressed.” Dale hadn’t let him in to see the rented room, blushing and stammering and meeting him elsewhere.
As if he cared. He would give Dale his whole world if he didn’t think it would seem like he was trying to buy affection. Dale had a very hot button there.
“I think you will like it.”
“It’s your house. I’ll like it.” Those lean cheeks went red again, Dale ducking his head.
He reached over after gearing down and put a hand on Dale’s thigh. “That makes me happier than you know, caro.”
“Yeah?” Those amazing muscles tensed and relaxed, almost like they were rubbing his hand back.
“Sì. I swear, caro, you have given me a new lease on life. I have never been so glad of a business trip.”
“Do you like what you do, darlin’? Does it make you happy and all?”
“It is not so bad. I suppose it is like… making money to keep money?” The business was a family one, an old one, and Gen kept it up. He was good at it, but did he love it? Perhaps.
“Well, that works. I mean, I won’t dance forever. I’m not good enough to be a headliner, and I won’t make pornos. Eventually I’ll have my schooling done.”
He squeezed Dale’s thigh. “You’re very good. But I can see where you don’t want to do it always.” His English sometimes shorted out when Dale’s body was close by, waiting to be touched.
“No. Well, maybe in private….”
“Oh. Would you dance for me freely, Dale? Without thinking that is all I want from you?” That made him… gear up as he almost ran off the road, and start thinking of driving. Sì. Just driving.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d dance for you, just to dance. Hell, I’d dance with you, Gen.”
“I would like that. I have not danced in some time….” And never like Dale did. The thought made him sweat.
Dale smiled, the chuckle soft and husky and pure sex. “We’d do good together, you and me. Hand in glove, I bet.”
“We do with everything else, hmm? Sì, I think we should dance when we get home.” He would not speed to get there faster. He would not endanger them.
“I’d like that. I…. Yeah. I’d really like that.” Dale shifted, one hand dropping to cover the bulge in those tight jeans.
“We will be there soon, caro. I promise.” Lovely. So wonderful, the way Dale reacted to him.
“I can smell you, Gen.” Dale’s head ducked, that hat brim dipping.
“I bet you can. I’m burning for you, Dale. I want you so badly. If it was not too cold, I would take you to the beach and love you there.” He shifted both the car and himself, his hardness uncomfortable.
“You’ll still have to take me to the beach. Later.” Dale moaned, eyes burning over at him. “After we dance.”
“I will.”
The cliff his home sat on came into sight after what seemed an endless drive of panting and moaning, Dale touching himself and Gen watching with half his attention. When he finally parked in front of the palazzo, Gen was ready to explode.
“Oh, Gen. It’s so pretty….” Dale’s eyes were near glowing, the tanned throat sheened with sweat.
“Mmm-hmm.” He mumbled, grabbing Dale’s hand as he climbed out of the car, pulling. They needed to be inside, someplace private. Now.
Dale followed closely, heat against his hip, against his side, pushing him to move faster. Thankfully Gen could walk to his private suite with his eyes closed, and his servants were too well trained to interrupt their flight. The minute the door closed behind them, Gen turned and took Dale in his arms, rubbing and shifting.
“This… this isn’t dancing.” Dale brought their mouths together, tongue fucking his lips.
All he could manage was a moan as he opened up and let Dale take the lead. It thrilled him, how hot Dale was for him, how fast the flame burned out of control. One hand landed on his hip, tugging them together and moving him in a slow, sensual dance that was a complete counterpoint to the intensity of the kiss. Dio. Lovely. Dale had such an innate sense of rhythm, such a perfect bump and grind. Gen went with it, swaying and humming.
“Want.” Dale jerked toward him, their bodies shifting.
“Sì. Want you. I…. Dale.” He couldn’t think. He knew they should take off clothes and move to a bed and perhaps touch and kiss for hours. His brain simply refused to let him move any other way than in their dance.
“Yes. Over and over.” Dale’s hand supported his shoulder as their hips swiveled, Dale almost dipping him backward.
That brought his aching cock into full contact with Dale’s through their clothes, and Gen surprised himself as his prick throbbed and his body shook and he came, just like that. Like he hadn’t done since he could remember.
“Yeah. Yeah, darlin’. Just like that.” Dale stood him back up, those amazing eyes wide and hungry.
Gen stared into those eyes for long moments before sliding to his knees and opening Dale’s jeans. He wanted. Still.
“Gen….” Those hips continued to move, Dale’s cock thick and long, wet tipped and heavy with need.
“Sì, caro. I know.” Licking his lips, Gen leaned in, finally opening his mouth and taking Dale in as far as he could with one strong pull. A man could sell his soul for those sounds, for the way the moans rang out and filled his rooms. Perhaps he already had. How else could he have such luck as to find Dale? Gen sucked hard, his hands pushing at those jeans so he could find Dale’s balls, cupping and rolling them.
“Darlin’. Darlin’, I….” Dale arched, knees bending a bit, hips thrusting up toward his lips.
Gen closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, thinking briefly how long it had been since he’d even wanted this, how usually he had someone do it to him. And then he stopped thinking and tasted, licking and moving his lips up and down, making Dale feel good.
Dale groaned and shifted, entire body beginning to beg as the pleasure grew, climax close.
Gen let go of Dale’s balls, letting his fingers circle the base of Dale’s prick and push up as he slid his mouth down, adding pressure to the pleasure. He was pushing Dale to come, his whole self needing to feel and taste it.
Dale grunted, prick pulsing in his lips, salt and heat splashing on his tongue. Oh. Oh, yes. Just so. Perfect. The best sort of dance he could imagine. Gen licked Dale clean before letting him slip free, bending to nuzzle at the golden fuzz on one thigh.
“I think we shall have to try the dancing again, caro. I lost track of the beat.”
“Next time we’ll have music, even.” Dale swayed, a look of pure pleasure on his face.
“We will. For now I suggest the bed.” Dale would love his bed. Gen’s knees popped as he stood, making him laugh. “And a shower. I am a mess.”
“Mmm. I’ll scrub your dangly
bits.” Dale smiled, eyes twinkling.
“Do not think I will turn you down.” Once again he took Dale’s hand, leading his lover toward bath and bed. There would be time for dances later. Many of them. He’d make sure of it.
Chapter Six
HE FOUND his tightest jeans, a CD with his favorite music, a fake leather shirt, and got himself dolled up. It felt a little weird, getting ready to dance in a house, getting ready for a private show. A little weird and a lot sexy, really.
Dale leaned forward, lined his eyes with the barest hint of eyeliner, darkened his eyelashes the tiniest bit. If he was lucky, Gen would like it. Want it. Want him.
“Are you ready in there, Dale? I’m waiting.” That accented voice scraped across his nerves so good, making his breath catch.
“Turn the music on, darlin’. I’m ready.” He pinched his nipples a couple of times, licked his lips.
The music started up only moments later, the low, throbbing beat perfect. He could hear Gen make a happy noise, could hear the rustle as Gen sat back down. Dale pushed the brim of his hat down, stroked the bulge in his jeans once, and opened the bathroom door, dancing to the music, hips moving nice and slow.
“Oh….” That sound, that one gasping noise, told him more than anything else could have how much Gen liked his look. Which was a lot. A whole lot.
Oh, hell yes. Dale smiled, one hand trailing down his body, knowing that nobody but Gen could see. Nobody but Gen would touch.
“That…. Dale.” Gen watched him like a bird of prey, those hot blue-green eyes like lasers on his skin. Every move, every bit of his body had Gen’s full attention.
The shirt went first, slow and easy halfway down his arms, the music letting him bounce a little, play a little. Hell, play a lot. Each moan made him feel that much better, that much sexier.
At home.
Wasn’t that a scary thought? Because this was Gen’s place, but damn. It felt good. Right. Gen shifted on the low sofa, legs moving restlessly, hands clenching and unclenching. When the music sped up, he started riding the bull, one hand on his hat, the other balancing him. Hell, yes. That felt good.
