There’s no urgency to outrun, no nightmare down a hall to interrupt us, no fear of a Calabrian boy’s careful structure cracking under the weight of wanting something too much. I have already cracked. I cracked the moment I held our son in my arms an hour ago and finally understood what all of it had been for.
My lips trail down the side of her neck, while I slide my hands slowly under her shirt breaking contact briefly to pull it over her head. Her mewl of happiness only eggs my on further and soon I have carefully taken both shirt and short off her and she responded in kind, her own hands relieving me of my own shirt.
My teeth grazes Livia's neck as I kiss my way down her body to stop and give subtle kisses at the top of her panties waistband.
Gently, I press my hand to the wet spot on her underwear, enjoying the sharp hiss of breath that escapes Livia's mouth. She moves against my hand, eager for more friction.
Please," she whimpers, her hands guiding mine to pull her panties down her thighs. "Please."
I can't say no.
With Livia's panties on the living room floor, I focus my attention back on the growing wetness between her thighs. With a tender finger, I gently press against the spot. Livia letting out a gasp of pleasure.
Smiling, I gently rub the spot, my eyes watching Livia's face for reactions. When her eyes begin to flutter shut and her breath came out in little gasps I decide to go a step further.
I slide my index finger inside her slowly. I can feel her body tense at my entry and then the muscles around her relax as I pushed in further. Inside her, she grips my finger tightly and I groaned aloud at the thought of what she'd feel like around my cock.
With tentative movements I pull my finger in and out of her, watching her face again to see her pleasure. When Livia smiles up at me, I feel my cock twitch, already hard and needy, against her.
Sensing my own need Livia fumbles with the button my jeans, giggling slightly when I have to help her undo them. Through the fabric of my boxers she grasps my cock and my head falls against her shoulder with a growl.
Livia gives his dick a few more experimental jerks and I move against her hand, already feeling ready to burst.
"Livia, you're-you're going to have to stop...that," I say dangerously.
Her mouth pops open in a little 'o' and she quickly removes her hand.
I kiss her again deeply and then remove my boxers with haste and settle myself between her legs. Livia brings her arms up around his neck and she leans up to kiss him before whispering in his ear.
"Go ahead. Ruin me like you did in Venice"
I press my now throbbing cock against her entrance and she guides me in, freezing as her body adjusts to the feel of myintrusion. I growl low again as I feel her muscles grip my cock hard. I move slowly, giving her time to breathe.
Eventually she wraps her arms around my pressing me down and deeper into herself.
I had spots cross my vision as I enter her completely. She feels so good, so incredibly good wrapped around me. My lips smash against hers as I begin to move, my hips pulling back completely before plunging into her again.
“Oh god, oh god, Vale- Val I'm going to-” she doesn't finish the sentence before she clenches around me bliss clear on her face.
It isn't long before the spots in my vision turn to fireworks and I stop breathing for a second, my cock twitching inside Livia and spilling my cum.
I collapse on top of her, riding the high back down to earth while she runs her fingers through my hair and hums softly against my skin.
"I love you," I say softly, rolling off Livia and pulling her into his arms. "I love you so much and that was...incredible."
Livia cups my face and gives me a chaste kiss. "I love you too. Now let's clean up and get to the room before Piper wakes up, unless you want to leave?” she asked the question casually but there seems to be an underlying vulnerability and her tone.
I don’t leave.
I lie in the dark with her head against my chest, her breathing slowing gradually into sleep, and I think about all the rooms I left instead of staying, every relationship I ended before it could end me first, every exit route I have ever mapped out of instinct rather than necessity.
I don’t move toward the door tonight. There is no door I want more than this room.
Sometime before dawn, I wake to small, deliberate footsteps in the hallway, and a moment later the mattress dips under additional weight, a small, warm body wedging itself determinedly between us with the complete confidence of a child who has never once doubted he belongs exactly where he’s chosen to be.
I freeze, uncertain of the protocol for this particular situation, uncertain whether four-year-olds object to being held by fathers they’ve known officially for less than a day. I have spent fifteen years preparing for crises of every imaginable scale — armed confrontations, hostile negotiations, situations where a single wrong decision could cost someone their life. None of that preparation tells me what to do with a small, warm weight pressing trustingly against my side at five in the morning, a weight that has decided, apparently without any internal debate at all, that this bed is simply where he belongs now.
Nico doesn’t object. He simply burrows closer, one small hand finding the front of my shirt the way it did the first night I sat with him through a nightmare, before either of us knew what we actually were to each other.
