Around nine thirty, the final band takes the stage. Electricity runs through a structure that predates the very concept. Dario leads Charlie into the mob. Charlie’s question of “Are you sure?” gets drowned out by the opening strum of a guitar. An older, full-bodied Black woman in an all-orange outfit emerges onto the scene as bright lights flare up. Bass and drums come together to buoy the night in joyous song. It’s a far cry from opera, but it makes Dario jump up and down.
Beau is off to the side, bedecked in a fashionable linen suit while he plays the electric guitar. Dario moves over to get a better view of his former houseguest, who appears at home on stage in front of such a large crowd.
Dario reflects on the last two weeks. He sends subliminal thanks to Beau, who looks like a deity up there bathed in sweat under the roar of the audience. If not for Beau’s honesty and his challenge-seeking behavior, Dario may not be here now with Charlie Moore, staring down his own challenges, daring to live a bigger life with his potential love.
He could say the same for each of the contest winners. While they all had their faults, they all taught him something as well. Ansel taught him to be honest upfront. Selina taught him to be confident and direct. Michelle taught him to follow his heart and be himself.
And Charlie…
Charlie, whose eyes don’t even leap to the stage. They fix on Dario, who hasn’t been this carefree in months. Or, frankly, this aroused.
Charlie has taught him to see the world as new and exciting again.
Near the middle of the set, Dario inches up onto his tippy-toes and says to Charlie, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you okay?” He holds an arm out, giving Dario space.
“Charlie!” Dario calls over the next song’s intro. “I’m better than I have been in ages. I just really want to get you alone.”
Concern swaps for sultriness. Charlie bends down to kiss Dario before carving them out of the crowd.
A bike cab idles at the curb outside the fortress. Charlie hands the bored-looking rider a stack of euros and tells him to step on it. He burns rubber all the way back to the hotel.
In the lobby, the ancient elevator takes its sweet time to descend. It clatters in its cage several stories above. Impatiently, Dario heaves Charlie to the stairs, careless of how many flights they need to climb to get to their penthouse.
The room door isn’t even shut before Dario is tearing off his suit. Gabriele will be mad that he was careless with such luxe fabric, but his desire is practically scorching through the threads anyway. Having conquered some of his agoraphobia, he feels invincible, like he could bench-press a car or leap off the terrace and fly.
But first— “Go soak for a bit while I freshen up,” Dario says. Under the sink, he left his toiletries. He plans to be squeaky clean for the first time he takes all of Charlie Moore inside him.
Charlie smirks at this, shucking his pants and striding toward the door. “Take your time, Candy Man.” His cock is already rustling to attention. Growing longer by the second.
Dario shuts himself in the bathroom, looks himself over in the mirror, and takes a moment to pat himself on the back. Heis here. In a new town. With a gorgeous man. And he did not have a single, full-blown panic attack. There were a couple close calls, but each time he stopped, took a few breaths and reminded himself that he was safe. Turns out, if he works with his mind instead of against it, sometimes it cooperates.
Twenty minutes later, Dario slides the back door open and steps out into the night in nothing but his birthday suit. Fitting, given that his birthday is approaching like a high-speed train. Only now it’s one he’s happy to ride, which is the same way he feels about riding Charlie Moore.
Charlie sits in the hot tub. His newly tattooed arm is resting on the edge. The bubbling water obscures the view of his lap, but there’s no mistaking the small pull he does with his arm when he sees Dario naked. “Where’s your suit?”
“I didn’t pack it.” Dario beams.
“I thought you preferred to be clothed.”
“I thought I’d never spend the night outside Montecolognola again. Things change. You’ve changed me, Charlie. Now I want you to fuck me,” he says, displaying confidence that rivals even Selina’s.
The air thrums with music. In the distance, the festival rolls on. Drums pound and electric guitars wobble, then suddenly an entire horn section wails with pulsating abandon. All good sex needs a soundtrack.
Charlie pulls himself up. His body glistens with droplets of water. Some cling to the length of his astoundingly erect cock. Charlie reaches for his towel, but Dario stops him, drops to his knees on the tile, and licks the underside of Charlie’s shaft.
“Out here?” Charlie asks, head swiveling around.
“Nobody can see us up here. It’s the only panoramic view in the village, remember?” Dario says. “Is that okay with you?”
Charlie audibly swallows before saying, “Yeah, it’s okay.” Dario twirls his tongue around the shiny head of Charlie’s cock. “Oh, it’smorethan okay, Candy Man.”
The pet name causes Dario’s dick to swell, and he initiates long licks up and down Charlie’s impressive length. He doesn’t even mind the chemical taste from the hot tub water. He’s too focused on pleasing this man whose patience and kindness have helped him so much over the last several days.
Dario straightens up into the press of Charlie’s fingers as they roam through his hair, moving it off his face and behind his ears.
A night breeze sweeps across Dario’s blazing cheeks. His eyes tilt up to Charlie’s face. He dissects each twitch of pleasure, each flicker of gratification. Bracketed in by Charlie’s tattoo-speckled thighs, he lets himself go and engorges himself on every inch of Charlie’s shaft. Given its slight downward curve, it eases past the back of his throat.
