Behind the Facade | Vittorio, baby

Just one kiss

The air in the room crackled with tension, the faint scent of smoke weaving between you like a fragile thread, pulling you closer together. It was subtle, almost elusive, yet the pull between you was impossible to ignore. As you sat there, the blunt passing lazily between your hands, the silence thickened, heavy with words you couldn’t find the courage to say. Vittorio’s rested on you, and when his fingers brushed yours, it felt like a silent plea, a question hanging in the air.

His gaze bore into you, intense and searching, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his body as he lay with his head on your lap. The blunt dangled from his fingers, forgotten for a moment. When he exhaled, the smoke swirled around his face, obscuring his expression just long enough to leave you wondering what he was thinking.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost as if the words had to fight their way out.

“Really?” you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips, unsure whether to believe him or brush it off as the weed talking.

He reached up, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced the line of your jaw. The touch was so gentle, so careful, like he was afraid you might break. “You have no idea, do you?” he whispered, his voice filled with something deeper, almost aching. “How beautiful you are to me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you tried to keep the moment light. “You always get like this when you’re high,” you teased, though your voice wavered.

He chuckled softly, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that made your breath catch. “I’m always like this with you,” he said, his tone playful but tinged with something more serious. “You just notice it more when I’m high.”

He took another hit from the blunt, the smoke slipping from his lips as he held it out to you. You leaned forward, your lips brushing his fingers as you took a drag, your mind buzzing not just from the smoke but from the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered.

“See what I mean?” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

“See what?” you asked, blowing out the smoke, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat under his gaze.

“Your lips,” he said, his voice rough with longing. “They look so damn good when you do that.” His fingers traced the outline of your mouth, lingering as if he were committing every curve, every line, to memory.

“I could watch you do this all night,” he added, his eyes half-closed as if he were already lost in the thought. “Your lips… they’re so perfect. I’ve always thought so.”

His touch sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the tenderness in his caress. The air between you was electric, charged with something neither of you could name.

“Kiss me then,” you blurted out, the words escaping before you could catch them, a nervous laugh bubbling up to cover the vulnerability in your voice.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes widening in surprise. Then a slow, almost wicked smile spread across his face. “You sure you want that?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, but there was something raw in his tone that made your pulse quicken. “You might not know what you’re asking for.”

You felt a thrill of excitement and fear twist together in your chest. “Put the blunt out first,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt, nodding toward the still-burning tip.

His smirk widened, and in a teasing gesture, he brought the blunt close to your thigh, the heat brushing against your skin just enough to make you gasp and pull back slightly. The way he watched your reaction, eyes darkening with mischief, sent a rush of adrenaline through you. But just as quickly, he pulled it away and snuffed it out in the ashtray beside him.