The Italian Delight

seven

Was it really such an issue?

Probably.

It should be Sophie's dress he should want to unzip.
Or, at least, any girl's.
Instead, he feels John's tongue gliding on his lips.

Strange.

And, what was only adding to all its weirdness, he didn't try to push him away.

He was slowly letting his friend kiss his mouth.
Letting him kiss the lips that were meant to be kissed by Sophie.
He was already forgetting the artificial sweetness Sophie used to bring into his mouth with her kisses.
Now, his senses were filled with the madly sour taste of John's lips.

And he wouldn't change a thing.

He wouldn't change a thing even when he felt John's hand making its way down from the nape of his neck to his chest, breaking the connection of their lips as their eyes met again.

John would tend to pretend he was calm, nonetheless, he really didn't trust his self-control in that moment. He just wanted to make sure.

Marco had a girlfriend, after all.

A girlfriend whom he should be dreaming about. Instead, he dreams about John. And about being held by him. And undressed by him.

His eyes were filled with so many emotions, John struggled to identify some, but he was sure about the lust, fear, determination, rebellion and need.

He looked into John's eyes as if he begged him to tear off the clothes separating both of them.

John's fingertips slowly pulled on the edge of Marco's hoodie, as if he asked for a permission to take it off. After a firm nod, he started to pull the fabric up, until he would see Marco standing there just in his sweatpants.

He sighed in awe as his hands gently travelled around the newly discovered skin of his friend.

The body in front of him was shivering as he connected their lips once again.
Marco's kiss tasted salty like the air on a beach, and he wanted these lips to never kiss anyone else again.

He was standing in the middle of his living room with Marco slowly, painfully slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

The same boy he thought about when he was touching himself with these trembling fingers.
He thought about all kinds of scenarios, from the ones about just kissing to the ones that included restraint, blindfolds and many more.

But here, when he felt Marco's fingers circling on his chest, he saw there was no need to rush.

And he also saw he's a sucker at sharing.

Imagining another person receiving any form of his man felt bad.
But what felt even worse was the fact that he wasn't his.

If he wasn't his, why would he undress in front of him?
Why would he let him kiss his mouth, if it was meant to be kissed by someone else?

He didn't really want to stop.
He wanted to make sure.

But when he felt his shirt finally falling off his shoulders, the fabric was now replaced with Marcos's hands, he understood this was a form of the answer he needed to keep going.

Marco's touch was firm but careful on his skin, his hands moving from the hem  of John's trousers to his now bare shoulders and back, and on his neck he would feel the warmth of Marco's breath.

John started scooping Marco's crotch through the fabric of his trousers, as if it could make him forget about everything that was wrong.

And god knew it did.