I ponder Leandro’s remark. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might be using Giovanni as a way to distract from my own grief. It isn’t something I’ve done on purpose. Maybe I’m still waiting for the finality to hit me.
“My brother was always the strong one, the sensible one. The one with rules and routine. I feel sometimes as if I’m role-playing at trying to be him,” I admit.
“We all model ourselves after the people in our lives who are important to us,” Leandro says. “It’ll take time for you both to know who you are without him. But the boy clearly adores you and you him. It’s heartening to see.”
As if knowing we’re talking about him, Giovanni’s head pops up from the piano and he smiles warmly at me. Santino notices the exchange and releases him to my care. I wave him over, and rather than sit in my lap or at my side, he grabs a pillow from the couch and kneels very prettily at my feet.
“Sir,” he says demurely.
“Hello, my beautiful baby. Would you like to say hello to our friend?”
“Leandro,” he says with a slight incline of his head.
“Giovanni, have I told you yet how beautiful you look dressed in your Sir’s rope?”
“You have not, but it humbles me to hear it,” Giovanni responds with a dip of his head. He then turns his attention to me. “Sir, have I been good?” His wandering eyes trail over my shoulders and chest, down to the arrow of my groin. I spread my legs wider and tug lightly at my crotch to rearrange my burgeoning arousal. These pants are tight. I suppose I am a bit of a show-off.
“You have been very,verygood, princess.”
“Have I made polite conversation and demonstrated good social graces?”
“You have.”
“Have I modeled my virtues to your standard?”
“In every way.”
“Then, may I have my reward?”
I glance over at Leandro who only grins and gestures for us to continue. The other guests seem only mildly interested in what is transpiring between us. “You may, Giovanni. You’ve earned it.”
I spread my arms across the back of the couch as an invitation for him to take care of me. Giovanni leans in to unbutton and unzip my pants, peeling back the folds of my slacks like unwrapping a present. He tugs down on the waistband of my underwear so that he may free my stiff cock and bulging balls. With his lips and tongue, he worships my manhood until my dick is rock-hard and my slit oozing. It’s a little obscene, to be dressed in such nice clothing and surrounded by similar finery with my dick hanging out, being pleasured so openly. I’m a little shy too, with so many eyes upon us. I focus on Gio’s lovely face instead—green eyes, pink cheeks, red mouth. He gives me little kitten-licks, darting around my tumid head, lapping up my slick like it’s honey, and teasing me with his clever tongue.
“You are cruel to torment your Sir in front of all these people,” I say in a voice rough with lust.
“You said you wanted a challenge,” he says with a smirk, right before opening his mouth wide and swallowing me whole. Conversation and the tinkling of glasses fades away as he takes my shaft down his velvet throat and proceeds to extract the seed from my loins. I tilt my head back and growl, pumping my hips slightly to deepen the sensation. I close my eyes and see angels everywhere, only they all look like Giovanni—mouths open, lips wet, bodies positioned in obscene ways with golden halos and matching jewelry. Naked and inviting, they beg me to commit every manner of carnal sin.
These are not the musings of a pious man, and my only consolation is that my mother will never have to know. My eyes blink open to find a vision better than any fantasy. My boy with tears in his eyes, staring back at me in adoration, focused singularly on the task of delivering me to ecstasy. On a breathless gasp, I spill, with one hand fisted deep in his hair and the other gripping the rope, though I cannot recall moving my hands. At my side, Leandro murmurs “bravo” to the pair of us. When Giovanni finally pulls away, his smile is smug, lips glazed by my cum.
“Thank you, Sir, for allowing me this pleasure.”
“Prego,Giovanni.”
10
“Are you hungry?”
“No, Sir.”
“Thirsty?”
“No, Sir.”
“Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“All my bodily needs have been met, but thank you for asking, Sir.”
We’re in Santino’s studio where a few of us have gathered to practice our ropework under his supervision. I’d like to test out some more complicated lifts with Gio, and it’s best to do so with a more experienced rigger to supervise. When I first met him, Gio didn’t even like having his hand held, and because of his past trauma, bondage was out of the question. Now, he trusts me to restrain him in all sorts of creative ways, though I’m still careful to avoid binding his wrists.
