I roll my eyes. "You’re disgusting."
"And yet you’re still underneath me." He lowers his face just enough that his breath brushes against my lips. "Funny how that works."
I push at his chest, to make a point. "You’re unbearable."
"You’re adorable."
We stare at each other. Too long.
I’m the one who breaks eye contact first. He gets up and goes to his suitcase, digs around, and pulls out his swim shorts. "Come on," he says. "Let’s hit the beach for a bit. I promise I won’t drown you."
And then he just pulls his pants down. My head snaps away fast. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
Do I look? Do Inotlook? Do I show "respect"?
Do I pretend I’m blind?
"Oh, come on, Rava. You had my dick in your mouth two days ago. You physically cannot get closer than that."
…You can. Sex will do that for us. Eventually. Maybe.
If I don’t die first.
My whole face feels like it’s on fire. He’s right though. I turn my head back, slowly, and steal a couple of quick glances.
Holy. Shit. My stomach does weird things.
Something is wrong with me. This is not normal. I was not like this. I wasn’t the type to act like a thirsty animal over dick.
Not that I everhadthe chance to see actual dick this close to compare, but… yeah. Wow.
He slides on his black swim trunks. "Sorry I ruined the show for you," he says.
"You didn’t ruin anything," I say. "You’re not all that." I mutter it with a little laugh.
"Thank you for keeping me humble," he says, grinning. I roll my eyes. I’m pretty sure my stupid blush gives me away. I reach for my shirt, but he’s already on me.
"Let me," he murmurs. In the heat of the moment the other times, taking his clothes off feels normal.
Expected. Now there’s no heavy breathing, no "we’re about to do something stupid" tension. Now it’s quiet. And somehow this feels ten times more intimate.
He grabs my shirt from the hem and starts lifting it, slowly. The fabric drags over my skin, up my stomach, my chest, my arms, until he finally pulls it over my head and tosses it gently on the bed.
His eyes are on me the whole time. I can feel them burning little holes into my skin.
He reaches his hand out like he’s going to touch me, then stops halfway and pulls back, pretending he was never planning to in the first place.
I laugh, because the idea that someone like Gio Fontana is scared to touchmeis hilarious. And kinda hot.
"You know you can touch me any time, right?" I say.
"Of course I know," he answers.
We just look at each other.
"Okay, I didn’t know. I’m glad. Turn around," he says. "I wanna see your back."
Of course you wanna see my back. Liar.
