A Songbird's Lament

Chapter 11

Author's Note: This one has come out fairly quickly, actually. Anyways, before we get to the actual story, I'd like to thank my friend Johann again (if I've even thanked him, there was a long Author's Note in the previous chapter, but I can't remember if I credited him) for collaborating on the character of Gaetano with me.

Gabriele couldn't tell what woke him up first; the stream of sunlight coming in through the open curtains or the soft hand shifting on his bare chest. His eyes fluttered open gently. Where was he?

The previous night had been a burgundy-tinted haze. He remembered an impassioned kiss on a cool cobblestone street, the fragrance of wine and perfume, and soft cries of pleasure on a soft bed. But that was it. The memories began to solidify and fill Gabriele's mind. He was in Gaetano Simionato's bed after a night of...debauchery to say the least. He smiled, recalling the feeling, then leaned back on the headboard.

The hand on Gabriele's torso moved again, and he looked over at its owner. His breath momentarily caught in his throat, and his face grew warm. Bathing in the light coming through the window was Gaetano, his soft olive skin beautifully illuminated. He ran a hand sluggishly through his hair in his sleep, then turned over.

Crash! Gaetano had fallen off the bed. Wild-eyed, he scrambled to his feet, hands swiftly moving to his crotch as he squeaked out an apology.

Gabriele could have sworn his heart had stopped at that very moment, just for a second. He clenched his fingers around his arm, then just as swiftly averted his eyes and handed Gaetano a blanket, revealing the scale of his own nudity.

Like a toga from antiquity, he wrapped the blanket around himself. Heaving a sigh of relief, Gaetano sat down on the bed. Gabriele leaned on his elbow, his free hand strategically covering himself.

"Good morning, you fop," he joked, a come-hither smirk dancing on his lips.

"O-Oh God, it appears that it has happened again..." Gaetano murmured, standing back up and pacing around the room, searching for his clothes. Glimpsing the wine stain on the front of his shirt, he let out an audible groan.

"Would you mind, er, telling me what exactly transpired last night?" Gaetano asked, pulling his clothes on under the toga, "I've seemed to have forgotten..."

Gabriele frowned. This was a very different side to Gaetano, the polar opposite to what he had seen last night. But still, he liked him all the same.

"Mmm, in detail, or just a brief-" he began, then was quickly cut off.

"A b-brief summary will suffice, thank you," Gaetano chirped, already fully dressed, "N-Not that I'm sure I did not enjoy...whatever we did last night, as you are very beaut-"

Gaetano shook his head, cutting himself off. His face glowed with warmth as he snuck glances at Gabriele. All he knew was that the same thought was running through both of their heads:

'How did I manage to attract a person this handsome?'

Seeing the embarrassment on Gaetano's face, Gabriele lessened his flirtation, and stood up, searching for his own clothes. Strangely, he felt almost comfortable with his skin this bare in front of him. To hide the stain, Gaetano buttoned the top of his waist coat, murmuring incoherently. He was like a wisp of smoke, a skittish cat.

"Ah, so," Gabriele began, pulling on his shirt which had been tossed on the floor, "I believe we met in an osteria last night, it may have been owned by a friend of mine,"

Gaetano nodded, his eyes darting around the room before occasionally settling on Gabriele before quickly averting them.

"While my friend was away tending to business, you happened to stumble in looking rather alluring with that red stain on your shirt," he joked, throwing a casual glance at Gaetano, "A-ha, my breeches..."