“I think we need some food.” I tap my stomach. “How about I make us something?”
“No, lasciami fare.” Mamma drops both our hands and starts waving her own around the room. “Sit. Get comfortable. I will make you something quick and simple.Ravioli con pesto, insalata caprese, un po di focaccia, no?” She looks at me and I nod. I’m lucky she can’t see the crafty expression on my face. I knew this is exactly what would happen if I suggested I cook.
When I turn to Giles, his cocked eyebrow tells me he knows exactly what I just did.
“Actually, Mamma. Is it okay if we go and take some quick showers and get changed? We stink.”
“Speak for yourself,” Giles teases and I like that. I like that he feels comfortable enough to do so in front of my mother.
“Of course.” Mamma is already securing an apron around her waist. She then waves us out of the room. “Go, go. Get clean.”
Maybe it should feel a little odd, leading my forty-five-year-old boyfriend up the stairs and into my bedroom, the same room I’ve had since I was a child, although I did redecorate it five or so years ago when I realised I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
I also tidied it this morning before leaving for our run. It still never fails to amaze me how well I can clean a space when I really want to and procrastination or distraction doesn’t interrupt my efforts. And this is the best reward. Seeing Giles do a slow twirl as he stands at the foot of my bed, taking it all in.
“You’ve made it very cosy,” he says eventually.
“Kris helped me,” I explain. “She chose everything for the place we had together and I liked that so I asked her to help me pick some paint and curtains and new bedding for here.”
Giles touches the bedspread. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“I’m looking forward to that too.” I feel my cheeks ache with how much I’m smiling.
I sit on the bed and reach for Giles, pulling him between my legs. Sliding my hands up the back of his legs, I feel him shiver.
“Marcello, we can’t… Not with your mother downstairs.” He places his hands on my shoulders and gives me a warning look. “Besides, I lied earlier. I actually do stink.”
I lift up his running vest and lick my way up his stomach, from belly button to the top of his abs. He's all salt and soap andGiles. “You taste pretty good to me.”
He grips my shoulder and pushes me back off his body. “But we really can’t. I don’t feel comfortable.”
I take in his serious expression. “Okay.” I smile, easily. “You want to shower first?”
“Yeah, or… I mean, we could shower together?” he asks with a little sheepish smile. “And not do anything, of course. I just like the idea of being close to you.”
“We can do that. But just so you know, we don’t have a rainwater shower like you do. We still have the one above the bathtub but I did upgrade it a few years ago so the pressure is good and there’s plenty of room in the tub for both of us.”
Giles pulls me up to stand. “Sounds perfect,” he says before pushing up and kissing me.
And it is. We wash each other slowly, lazily. We give our growing erections occasional squeezes and gentle tugs. Giles leans against my chest as I rinse shampoo out of his hair, and I close my eyes and hum out contented sighs as he runs conditioner through the ends of mine.
“I could get used to this,” I tell him when we’re towelling off together.
Giles doesn’t reply and after a few seconds I look at him, wondering why. He looks a million miles away as he sits on the closed toilet lid with a soft thud.
“Move in with me,” he says eventually.
The room is so silent I start to think I’ve lost my hearing. But then Mamma calls our names and tells us that our food is ready.
“That was silly,” Giles says, standing and tying his towel around his waist. “Forget I said anything.”
“No.” I put my hand on his forearm. “No way I’m forgetting that.”
“But it’s a bad idea, right?”
“Just a second,” I say knowing I need to call down to Mamma before I completely forget. I open the bathroom door slightly and yell down the stairs that we’ll be five minutes.
I close the door and return to Giles, my lover, my partner, fuck, my man.
