Suited

Thirteen

Lawrence Whitacre's Point of View

The new cuffs were one of my new favorite things. I didn't have many favorites of anything in recent times but these were shiny and waterproof and locked. My cage was too. That was also a favorite. Both tethered him to me somehow. Lucas was a favorite as well.

Saturday would not come fast enough. I'd been getting by with his buongiorno texts and after dinner video calls where I'd put on my noise canceling headphones, lock the door, and hope my phone didn't fall over while I did what he instructed with the toy or my fingers or both. The cage was its own beautiful type of hell. I had a few prostate orgasms but learned the hard way that didn't necessarily mean I could cum. It would be worth it though. Signore would make it so, so worth it.

I rolled over on Friday morning at six like I had been for the past five days now. When was I going to become a morning person? If I could stop worrying about fucking, I should be able to wake up refreshed. At least I wasn't exhausted. Groggy for sure but nothing unmanageable. I'd been getting at least five hours of sleep a night. I hadn't been this rested in years and especially not since going clean.

I texted Signore Alberici and scrolled through instagram to see what I'd missed in the world in the past twelve hours. I didn't really go on my socials as much as I used to. I could only really check now before Jessie came to ensure I was alive and when he picked me up from the hospital. I sent a friend from high school a belated birthday text and checked my DMs.

Bad idea. Very bad idea. Amelia wanted to go to lunch. She sent a link to the Thai place we'd had our first date at a month or so ago and a picture of the small baggie I'd left in her car. It was enough for a couple lines.

a_me: why are you still ignoring me?

come onnn! we can split it

if you don't answer me i'll just snort it myself

She could snort whatever she wanted. It wasn't like I could anyway. Signore didn't like it and the hospital did random testing.

a_me: you're literally reading these

i miss you

why can't we fuck again? are you still mad?

It was like that almost every day since we broke up. Why was she bothering to chase me anyway? She's the one that dumped me.

Signore Alberici: Buongiorno, ragazzo. Come ti senti?

I sighed. I definitely preferred to text him over her. He didn't give me a headache. I'd learned more words in the past few days. I had a notebook I kept track in that I could have with my phone during the breaks at the treatment center and Signore dropped a few words into his messages to boost my vocab.

Me: Sto bene. E tu?

Signore: The same. Have you showered?

I hadn't but I needed one. I could feel the lube on me still. I got two texts at once.

a_me: you know I'm needy you can't just not put out

Signore: Chiamami, ragazzo.

I decided to ignore her again and call Signore. "Ciao," I mumbled.

There was a very feminine giggle. "We're doing Italian now? Fancy." Amelia. I blinked. I'd clicked the wrong button. I fucking hated my hands. They were always so jittery.

"Look—"

"Do you wanna come over? Or we can get a hotel?" Who even gets a hotel at six in the morning? Did they allow check in that early?