The Hateful Heavy Heart | 18+

40 - Venice

Jace

Ruggiero woke me up at six-thirty sharp that evening to explore Venice's nightlife. He dragged me to a jazz club with live music near our hotel.

Ruggiero nursed a couple of beers, and because I wanted this to feel like a normal night out, I downed a few mocktails. We danced for hours until our feet hurt before we returned to the hotel and crashed into bed for good that night.

The next two days in Venice more or less aligned with Ruggiero's itinerary. On the first day, he didn't hesitate to wake me with two climaxes, feed me a hearty breakfast, and whisk me off to the Ca' d'Oro.

"Jace, amorino, why're you walking like that?"

I marched forward into the Ca' d'Oro, leaving the laughing Ruggiero behind me. I couldn't believe he had the nerve to ask me why I was walking like that when he spent two hours torturing me with that toy.

Did I sort of love it and want to do it again? Yes. Was I also embarrassed about how hard I came and how I could now barely walk? Also yes.

It didn't make it any better that his man had no shame! How dare he ask a question like that in this six hundred-year-old palace?

Speaking of the six hundred-year-old palace, it was beautiful. Busy, undeniably popular, and very beautiful.

"Jace, wait up!"

I halted in my steps at his plea.

"Woah, amorino." Ruggiero bumped into me from behind, catching me by my hips and saving me from tumbling into other guests.

"Woah is correct, Rue. This place is amazing." I gawked ahead of me.

His hands smoothed up my waist. "This is one of my favorite places in Venice. Wait until we go inside."

Ruggiero's hands felt warm against my waist, and I leaned into his touch, forgetting my embarrassment for a second. Together, we stepped into the grandeur of the Ca' d'Oro.

"Oh my," I said.

The interior was just as magnificent as the exterior, with vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate designs and walls lined with priceless works of art. Paintings by famous artists filled every corner, their vibrant colors and lifelike depictions transporting me to another world.

As we explored the galleries, I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the centuries of history and culture that surrounded us. Each painting told a story, each sculpture held a secret, and I found myself getting lost in the beauty of it all.

After a couple hours, he led me out of the Ca' d'Oro and made our way to the Grand Canal, where a gondola awaited us. The gondolier, clad in a striped shirt and a straw hat, greeted us with a warm smile. We climbed into the sleek black boat, the gentle rocking motion lulling us into a state of tranquility as we set off down the historic waterway.

The city enveloped us as we glided along, the sun casting a warm glow over the city's iconic landmarks. We passed under ornate bridges and alongside ancient palazzos. The sound of the oar was rhythmic as it cut through the water.

"It's beautiful," I whispered.

Ruggiero squeezed my hand gently. "Like you, amorino," he said softly, his words sending a shiver down my spine. "I'm so happy you came home with me."