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filthforfriends · 4 months

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Chapter 21: Brave Enough

Authors Note

Word count: 7.9k

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After an emotionally taxing conversation with his psychologist, Damiano decided to also stop smoking weed/otherwise consuming cannabis. It’d been too triggering, a reminder of all the reasons he loved coke and opioids. Admitting he wasn’t ready for parties or group gatherings was even more difficult. He loved his friends, his family, and going to Vic’s DJ gigs. He loved playing pool at bars or dancing to the deafening pulse of techno music in a club. These things allowed him to feel the hurried, bright energy of his youth. It was proving hard to differentiate between craving community, craving mania, and craving situations because he associated them with drug use.

He also made a habit of exercising in the mornings, before treatment. The earlier he took his lithium and ate some protein, the better he tended to feel throughout the day. Routine made cravings easier to resist when he woke up with them and endorphins lessened the severity of his depressive moods.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” That's what you told Damiano when he debriefed you the next evening, a chip to mark 24 hours sober clutched in his fist. He’d disclosed his relapse in group and sobbed, despite hardy efforts not to shed a tear. You make dinner and stroke his hair when Dami lays his head on your lap. He’s cynical, not receptive to positive affirmation. Unfortunately, this mood has become more common as the years pass. So you focus on gestures: nicely making his bed, meal prepping his breakfast, cleaning the litter box even though it was his turn.

Surprisingly, Damiano requests you read aloud some favorite passages from the books you’ve finished since the breakup. You’d always thought of that as an activity for your sake. Of course he doesn’t actually use the word “breakup.” Dami won’t touch that terminology with a 10 foot pole. He’s grumpy and lovable, snuggled under the pale pink bed sheet as you speak.

Dami returned the favor by waking you up with coffee, which became a tradition on weekdays. He probably got up 10 minutes earlier than necessary to do so. The first morning you thought it was a glorious dream. Instead of the abrasive and occasionally rage-inducing beep of your alarm, a hand you recognized as Damiano’s was rubbing your back. It slides under your t-shirt and gently strokes your spine. You shiver and hum in delight, then scooch closer. Eyes still closed, the bed dips and you sense Dami taking a seat on the edge. The morning light pours in through the curtains – to which you have your back turned – as the scent of espresso reaches your nose. Such sensory perfection must be fantasy.

“It’s time to wake up,” he murmurs.

“Mm mm.” You object and scoot closer, curling around Damiano. He chuckles and massages your scalp with his fingertips.

“Big stretch,” he narrates as Cheeto rouses herself by his feet. You can tell it’s not Princess, since she’d be meowing by the bedroom door as soon as she heard Damiano up and about. Finally, your brain starts to register that this might be reality, since you never dreamed of Cheeto and Dami simultaneously. You open one eye and are accosted by the bright light, confirming that this isn’t a dream.

“Hey,” you croak, squinting up at him. “What time is it?”

“A couple minutes before your alarm. I turned it off.” You readjust, head, shoulders, and arms splayed across Dami’s lap. “I don’t think that counts as getting out of bed.”

“I’d like to contest that.”

“Getting out of bed in general or if laying on my lap counts?”

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes falling closed.

“Mm mm, keep ‘em open,” he requests, affectionately. You whine in protest and pout. More than anything, you want to pull Dami into the bed for cuddles, but it’d make you late for work.

“Fine.” Awkwardly, you flip onto your back to stare up at Damiano. He’s smiling, which is good motivation to keep looking.

“You’re cute when it’s too bright. You squint so hard that you get this little line between your eyebrows.” He runs his finger along your nose, then taps your cupid’s bow. You’d very much like him to keep going, gently stroking your features. He delicately moves the hair from your face and your eyelids grow heavy. Damiano tsks, working a hand between your mid-back and the mattress.

“Sit up. C’mon.” With a sigh, you detangle your legs from the sheet. “C’mon,” he coaxes sweetly. “When you’re ready to stop pouting, there's coffee.” Your feet land on the floor as Damiano helps push you upright. After a couple sips of espresso, your pupils adapt and the brain begins working. Dami remains seated, hand on your back, and you love that he’s content to just share space. Love that things don’t always have to be full of words and amusements for one another.

“Thank you, this is so nice!” You hug Dami with messy enthusiasm, leaning some of your weight against him. Damiano embraces back and kisses your head.

“I’m happy to do it, sweetheart.” His hand resumes stroking your spine, the other moving the hair from blocking your face. “Just stay awake.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, standing up and stretching. Dami doesn’t move, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of something. You want the physical affection to continue so badly that it hurts in your chest a little. So you give into an urge before thinking about it and sit on Damiano’s lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

“Wha – hey there, sweetheart.” Aware of morning breath, you kiss Dami’s neck, hairline, and behind his ears. “Feeling a little touch-starved?” You nod. Slowly, he slides his hands under your shirt. By touch-starved, you hadn’t necessarily meant skin to skin. Damiano sneakily took advantage of an opportunity by reading into it and you certainly weren’t mad about his decision.

Things start innocent enough, his hands rubbing your back, but then they move away from your spine. When stroking around your waist and hips, his fingertips brushed your stomach, pinky dipping underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts. Then those hands slide up, cupping your ribcage. You stop breathing, frozen with anticipation. Would he touch your breast? Would he slide his hand to the front of your chest and caress it in his warm, rough palm? Would he play with your nipples? Rub them with the callous on his thumb? Would he then slide his hand down your front and into your shorts? If he did, you’d raise your hips to give him room. Then you’d trap his hand against your pussy and grind. Did he want to tease you today or make you moan? Or make you cum?

When you check his expression, Dami’s eyes are glued to your heaving chest and erect nipples. Knowing that he’s hard, you throw a leg over and straddle him. Then you scoot in as close as possible to rest your weight against his erection, stimulating both of you. Damiano’s eyes flutter and his hands escalate from stroking to grasping. You wait for him to make the nest move, but he doesn’t.

“If you could do anything –”

“If I could do anything you’d be underneath me and too wracked with pleasure to say anything but my name and the word please. If I could do anything the neighbors would be filing a noise complaint and you’d be on probation at work for repeated tardiness. If I could do anything we’d have already gone through a bottle of lube and half a dozen sex toys. Our clothes would be on the doormat, panties included because last night we fucked against the front door as soon as you got home. Then again on the kitchen counter and again in front of the bathroom mirror and a fourth time in the shower, which was all a preamble to what I’d do to you in this bed.”

You look over his shoulder at the mattress cover and twisted sheet. You’d gotten in the habit of sleeping on Dami’s side. It hadn’t actually smelled like him for months.

“What would you do?” he asks.

“I…I have to get ready for work.” You try to climb off his lap, but Damiano holds onto your waist firmly.

“Did what I said offend you?” he pressed.

“No,” you reply breathlessly. The moment is deliciously intense, especially the way he’s staring.

“Overwhelm you? Turn you off in some way?”

“Uh, no. Well, maybe overwhelm a little bit…”

“In a bad way?” Dami hasn’t forced the issue in terms of sex since coming home.

“In a good way.”

“Then what would you do? If you didn’t have to get ready for work.” You pause and look down. “We don’t have to actually do it, at least not right now,” he whispers.

“I would – I want you….Um, you’d play with my nipples.”

“Mhm.” His hand slides up your chest and rests on your sternum.

“Then you’d put – push your hand down my front.” Dami obeys, his fingertips stopping at the waistband of your shorts. You stare, willing him to go further with every ounce of your being.

“Does my hand go under your shorts?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Does it go into your panties?”

“Yes.” His real hand doesn’t move. “Between my legs so I can…Actually, I kinda wish that I was just wearing a t-shirt so I could pull your pjs down and grind against your cock. And then, maybe…”

“Mhm,” he encourages.

“I’d take off my shirt too and rub my nipples against your chest until they were sore. Your – your sweaty, hairy chest. And you’d hold me like you weren’t worried about scaring me away. Really grabbing me, like you were confident, but also because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Show me what you mean,” he demands.

“I – I can’t. You just have to.” Dami grabs a hold of your upper thigh with his free hand and flips both bodies. Your back lands on the mattress, arms and legs already wrapped around him. Damiano pushes you further onto the bed, so he has room to climb on top. It would take less than a minute for you to both wiggle out of your clothes then locate a condom and lube. Probably closer to 30 seconds. It's the same sensation as the makeout two mornings ago. You wanted to say yes, but your self preservation instincts weren’t letting that happen.

Damiano searches your wide-eyed expression for decisiveness and finds nothing of the sort. He can see you thinking about it. Then he sees you over-thinking it and knows that this will not be the moment you feel comfortable enough to trust freely.

“Like this?” He’s panting, as well, and for some reason, that's unbearable sexy. Dami isn’t putting on a facade. This borderline chaste amount of physical contact has got him worked up, too. You almost kiss him, then recall your morning breath and cover your mouth.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Y/n, I don’t give a good god damn whether or not you’ve brushed your teeth. I don’t care!” Dami loses his cool, but quickly recovers it. “I – sorry. Sorry, let me…” He walks his hands backwards and climbs off the bed, then helps you stand up.

“Thank you for the coffee,” you repeat, taking a long sip, that way a response won’t be expected. As you slip by Dami to leave the bedroom, he gives your butt a little squeeze. It was once a regular gesture in private, but he hadn’t taken this type of initiative since getting sober. You whip around with an impish smile, the mug nearly held to your lips. Damiano’s expression is watchful, then validated. He was testing the waters and your reaction basically invited him to jump right in.

Rather than refocus on his own routine, Dami watches you assemble a lunch while still in pajamas. He stands on the edge of the kitchen, pondering something, admiring you.

“Whatever your timeline for physical intimacy, I will respect it, 100%.”

“I know that, Damia.” You wash and fill your water bottle. He leans his hip against the counter with crossed arms.

“But if you're waiting for things to feel not scary with me, that day may never come. Our history isn’t gonna get more palatable.” You hadn’t considered things from that perspective before. “Part of a nurturing relationship is pushing each other, challenging restrictive thought patterns.” Damiano moseys over. First, his right hand cups your hip. Then, the left rubs the side of your glute languidly, before wrapping around your middle. Dami holds you casually, but still body to body, standing behind you at the kitchen sink. Each exhale ruffles your hair, a reminder of how much you’d missed this. Dami’s wandering hands and desire for closeness.

This must have been another thing you blocked out for survival, since an awareness of what once was made losing it lethally painful. You’d forced yourself not to remember and now the remembering felt like the first first bloom of spring after a frosty winter.

You lean against Dami, let his shoulder take the weight of your head. Then you lay your left arm over his, fingers lacing together.

“And I don’t want to push past your boundaries, but at the same time…” He leaves tender kisses down the column of your exposed neck. “This definitely exceeds a hand holding level of intimacy. It breaks the no couple behavior boundary –”

“Me and my fucking rules,” you groan. Repeated back, you sound certifiable, even from an understanding Damiano.

“This certainly qualifies as sexual touch.” His pinky and ring finger dip under your waistband as he dips into a whisper. “But I didn’t ask first and I don’t have to ask now, either, because just your body language is telling me how much you like this.”

“Forgot until just now.” With an even more dramatic groan, you turn around to meet his eyes. “Ugh! I know I’m shit at this –”

“Not what I was saying, at all,” he interrupts, thumb brushing your cheek. “I was just gonna suggest using a Listen for My No system of consent instead of Wait for My Yes. But that's such a sexually aggressive thing to suggest on someone else’s behalf that I…” He makes a face, nose scrunched up.

“But I agree with you. I’d like that, I really would, but, um…” Dami’s expression goes from relieved back to uneasy. “When I submit, I can’t usually access the decision making part of my brain. Kinda the point, actually.”

“Baby, we never do anything in subspace if we haven’t agreed to it first.”

“I know, but I’d feel –” You gesture erratically, but the right adjective never surfaces. So you settle on “shitty, I guess.” Avoidant, you stare at the floor in anticipation of Dami’s reaction. Of course, Princess is right there, biding her time for the inevitable moment that all this attention is rightfully turned to her. “Sassy Pants,” you coo. She rests her front paws on your shin and meows, so you pick her up.

“Y/n, I never want you to – awe, look at the fur baby.” Damiano gets distracted by Princess, who uses you like an elevator to his shoulder. She leaps onto him and Dami winces at her claws through his thin t-shirt. “Ow, ow, ow. Thanks for that Sassy Pants, now get off.” He sets Princess back down where she stares at him in betrayal.

“I’m sorry, was having him to yourself all night not enough attention?” You sass her right back with a hand on your hip while Dami laughs. The cat sulks, nimbly returning to the couch and curling up right on his pillow. “Do you see that? She’s the real reason we practice non-monogamy. So I don’t end up with my throat slit in my fucking sleep by her murder mittens!” Hoping to have successfully distracted him, you brush your teeth then slip back into the bedroom to get dressed. In the living room Dami sings to Princess, doing a little dance with her paws. The happy sounds carry through the partially ajar door.

“So, uh…” You’d almost finished pulling on your stockings when he leans against the door frame. “Sorry, am I allowed to look?”

“Yes, you’re allowed to look,” you scoff. He turns the corner just in time to watch your thighs disappear beneath a linen skirt. His lack of objection indicates that your earlier distraction wasn’t effective. He’s not feeling playful.

“What I was saying before is that I never want you to feel bad about putting parameters –”

“Damia, it’s not that.” He’s trying to soften the determination in his expression. “If I allow my rational mind to just slip away then I’m gonna…” again, words evade you “embarrass myself.”

“What do you mean embarrass yourself?” he croons. Damiano walks into the bedroom, cupping your cheek in his right palm. Meanwhile, his left hand slides across your waist and settles on the top of your glute. Another barrage of hidden memories: the early years when Damiano spoke your self-confidence into being fruition on anxiety-ridden mornings.

“I mean grind against your lap or leg or whatever while begging you to fuck me until I sob in a way that’s gonna hurt you to watch. Zero inhibitions as I try to convince you, okay? Just babbling and clinging and tears for your cock. ‘Daddy, my heart hurts because you won’t make love to me.’ I don’t want either of us in a position to navigate that.” Damiano becomes a statue. When it doesn’t immediately pass, you decide to pick a pair of sensible shoes while his brain resets.

“Does your heart hurt for more intimacy?” Now you’re the one frozen in place. “Seems like you may have just accidentally been completely honest with yourself.” Fuck. He was right.

“Could you pretend not to know me as well as you do?”

“No, y/n, I can’t.” You’d tried to lighten the mood, give yourself an out, and he’s rejected that effort wholesale. Damiano stands there, waiting for a real response, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. Every morning he puts them on, after sleeping in his boxers, to make you comfortable. It suddenly feels so elementary, this game of pretend you’d been playing because you were scared shitless of losing him again.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a nervous wreck.”

“Being a nervous wreck about what?” You’re taken aback, having expected some sweet platitude like "don't be sorry, sweetheart.” Or perhaps, “You’re trying your best in a tough situation” punctuated by a kiss to the forehead. But you’d finally exhausted his patience and Damiano wasn’t going to feed you reassurances that you already knew to be true.

“About,” you gesture between your bodies “us!”

“Elaborate for me, please. What about us?” His tone isn’t hostile, just insistent.

“Our relationship.”

“Not my sobriety?”

“No…actually.” You’re even more surprised than Dami at that answer.

“Good. Why is our relationship making you a nervous wreck?”

“Because, because…” You feel cornered even though he hasn’t moved an inch. “I’m not sure.”

“Yes you are. You’re constantly reflecting and self-examining, especially recently. Some days you’re more in your head than you are in the world.”

“But the last couple days, I’ve been better at staying in the present. After our fight, I’ve been trying not to walk on eggshells.”

“And we’ve been so much more connected, which has been fucking incredible. But you’re still unhappy.”

“I’m not…” Were you happy? You should be happy. You have an objectively good job, a beautiful apartment. You have a loving family, loving friends, loving companions. Your soulmate has returned and he’s stable. But were you happy? With a subjectively horrible job, home full of traumatic memories, emotionally unavailable parents, fading friendships, and companions who’s reassurance couldn’t make you feel adequate so you’d stopped asking for it entirely.

“How many months do I need to go without relapse, without a crazy mood swing, without –”

“To get your dick wet?” You snap at him in anger. This was the definition of pressuring you.

“For you to trust me, y/n!”

“But sex is the way to show that I trust you? Go get laid, Damianno. Stop avoiding your other companions because you’re afraid they won’t forgive your behavior.”

“You get laid. Stop avoiding your companions because they remind you how profound our intimacy could be.” For what feels like an eon, you glare at each other in silence.

“How about we both admit that having sex with other people wouldn’t do anything to fill this…space?” It feels good to concede. Most of the tension leaves the air.

“Void?”

“Void is probably more accurate, yeah.” It’s just enough breathing room for reality to set in. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late for work.” You look around frantically for a hair tie to wrangle your unbrushed hair into an updo.

“Can you please just give this conversation another five minutes of your time?” There's a hair elastic on the floor, by your nightstand. You make a noise of victory, trying to remember if your travel hairbrush was still in the glovebox. “Three minutes?” he pleads. It’s too much. Mentally, you try to check out as an act of self-preservation. In your peripheral vision, Damiano snatches your phone off the bed. You can’t leave without it.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m asking how long until you can trust me?”

“For me to trust you completely?” That gives Dami pause. He seems to realize that it's a pretty big question to spring on you before 9 AM. ”Check the phone you’re holding hostage for the time, please.” So begins the hunt for your purse.

“It’s…” With a strained voice, he looks at the home screen. Then his hand drops to his side. “It doesn’t matter. I am asking you – How about when are you gonna be able to at least trust that I’m not gonna abandon you?” Despite attempts to create space between yourself and this moment, it feels like being stabbed with a dull spear, right through the center of your torso. “Hey!” he finally raises his voice in exhasperation. “Can you at least fucking look at me when I’m bearing my soul to you!?” Both cats are hiding under the kitchen table. Standing in the kitchen, you turn to meet his gaze.

“I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Then be late! You hate that job anyways!” The shock reads easily on your features.. “I – that was out of line. Sorry. But this is never gonna work right until you trust me.” Your stomach drops. You feel nauseous and something akin to the beginnings of dissociation. This is why you’d been avoiding tough conversations. What if it went wrong? And if it did go wrong, what was going to happen? The ways Damiano had evolved as a person since going to rehab were great, but it also meant that you couldn’t predict his behavior anymore. If he walked out in anger, would he walk back in?

“Baby, that was really bad phrasing on my part.” His tone shifts completely, soft and doting in the way you’d expected it to be earlier. “Way too extreme.” Dami knew he’d scared you. That took precedence over what he so desperately wanted to achieve with this conversation. You have half a mind to run into his arms.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s gonna make me feel reassured that you won’t abandon me.”

“You don’t know, as in you can’t think of anything?”

“I don’t know!” You curl your hands into tight fists, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

“Giving me an answer you regret and take back would be better than this purgatory.” Demand has officially overtaken supply. You’d required so much patience from Dami that it’d burned through all the categorical gratitude he felt for taking him back in any capacity. He was no longer just grateful to be here, he wanted a partner.

“If your answer is I don’t think I can ever trust you again, so be it.”

“I can trust you! I do trust you, but you’re also…” He’s hanging on to every word and you can’t even craft a basic sentence. “There’s you, but then there’s also an addict you. The first one earned my trust back more easily than I’d care to admit, but the addict you, he – it’s always there.”

“And you can never trust an addict.”

“No! But, but –” The phrase “never gonna work” rattles around in your head. “No, because…because” then we might break-up. You barely think the thought, but it's like a tripwire. Suddenly trapped under all the ways you could lose Damiano. Originally there were two contenders: freak accident and growing apart. Then fame was added to this list, then addiction. Now you had to acknowledge a fifth. Like the fifth side to a cage that can finally hold you captive, invisible to others, making them helpless to do anything but watch the light leave your eyes. He might break-up with you because you couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces back together.

“Hug me.” Damiano crosses the apartment in a few quick steps. The stinging of tears distracts you from returning the embrace, but that doesn't give him pause. The only reason you weren’t blubbering already was how secure he’d made you feel the past few days. Now that was out the window.

“Continuous hugging or do you want room to breathe?”

“Breathe,” you choke, wiping your eyes. Dami’s version of breathing room was taking half a step back and resting both hands on your hips. It was perfect.

“Be brave a little longer,” he coaxes.

“I don’t want us to…God, it’s like saying Voldemort or some shit.”

“The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named that starts with a ‘B’ and ends in the word ‘up?’”

“Yeah, I…No, I don’t even want to talk about it, Damia.”

“That's adorable.” You rest your forehead against his sternum and whine. He cups the base of your head and you loosely cross your arms behind him. “But I do need to know what made you think of The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named.”

“What if,” you resume hugging him instead of finishing the sentence. “What if I can never learn to trust the addict part of you and it happens?”

“I don’t trust the addict part of me, y/n. After everything that’s happened, I sure as shit don’t expect you to.” You pull away in order to look up in confusion. “Awe, sweetheart. I just need you to trust that this part of me has control over that shithead.”

“But relapse happens and – and you’ll always be an addict and an alcoholic. This is permanently a part of you.”

“Can you trust that I’m always gonna do my damndest not to lose control? And if I do I’m gonna find my way back?”

“It hasn’t even been three weeks.” Dami opens his mouth, closes it, and nods.

“Yeah thats a fucking good point. Damn.” He’s reeling. It’s interesting to see it happen to someone else. “I’m over here fuckin’...demanding to know when you’re gonna trust me again when I haven’t even given you a full month of stability.” You place a hand on Dami’s cheek, trying to redirect his gaze back to yours so he doesn’t get lost in self-loathing. He turns his head, but looks down. “I’m fucking comparing ‘well, I feel this way about her so –’”

“How do you feel about me?” His eyes flit up and you think the romantic in him might win.

“I feel the same way.” Or not. “Because it's easy to fall in love with somebody again and trust them again when they’re the same person. When they don’t have all this new baggage like I do.” Staring at his feet, Damiano mutters, “Nothing to compensate or…”

“You do not need to compensate, what a ridiculous thing to say!”

“Okay.” You watch him only partially internalize your words, in the same way he raises his eyes, but doesn’t quite look at you.

“Hey, you getting sober created new character traits that I love and am attracted to.”

“Enough to balance out the shit?” You scoff, taken aback.

“Yes! You’re not a fucking equation, Damia. You are a beautiful, compelling man who contains multitudes with this incredible capacity to create multitudes. Don’t separate yourself into these categories of worthwhile or not worthwhile.”

“Y/n.”

“It’s so linear. You’re reduced to a collection of likable traits when –”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces. You allow yourself to be pulled in by the back of the head, eyes falling to his mauve, shapely lips. It’s sweet, slow, polite. It’s a gesture. It’s a this-kiss-conveys-my-love-and-respect-because-it's-not-the-kiss-I-wanted-to-give-you gesture. It’s a gesture that reveals he’s forgotten the comment you made earlier this morning.

“Lets,” one syllable and you feel short of breath. “Let's have the big scary talk tonight – tomorrow night! Let's have it tomorrow night.”

“Alright.” Damiano coaxes you back in by holding your chin and brushing his pointer finger back and forth. It tickles faintly and makes you smile into the equally chaste kiss. “Don’t forget, you have therapy today.”

***

“I’m only here to avoid the missed appointment fee, honestly.” You slouch, as if trying to disappear into the chartreuse loveseat.

“Oh?” Your therapist puts pen to paper and waits for elaboration. You stare at the floor and feel the pressure of tears behind your eyes. It's been like that since leaving the apartment, as though you were one inconvenience away from crying.

“Your disposition is certainly much different from our recent sessions.” Dr. Borough gives you another chance to speak, which you don’t take. She’s wearing all beige, minus an oversized necklace of reflective black beads. The color palette certainly suits the mood.

“Is it Damiano, work, anxiety that's been weighing on you?”

“All of the above.” After arriving 13 minutes late for work, Izolda called you into her stuffy, windowless office. She chastised you for being tardy twice in two weeks and you didn’t have the balls to point out that she’d personally excused the first instance. There were vague references to your performance review and callous comments about “allowing personal experiences to impede project outcomes.”

“Wow. So it's been a tough week?”

“It’s been emotionally laborious…So, yeah. Tough, I guess.”

“But productive?”

“Not when it comes to my job. That place is so devoid of humanity that I can feel part of my soul dying.”

“Sounds like you might need a change. Have you tried searching for –”

“I can’t handle a career change right now!”

“So what can you handle?” Finally, you burst into tears. “Oh, dear.” Dr. Borough pushes the box of tissues across the coffee table. “So what's going on in the other facets of your life? Are you and Damiano on good terms?”

“Yeah. He woke me up with espresso this morning, it was really sweet.” You wipe your face, which leaves a black smudge of hastily applied mascara on the white tissue.

“And his sobriety?”

“He relapsed trying to reintegrate too fast. It was just booze and he’s been sober since.”

“Wow.” She scribbles on her notepad. “So that must have been triggering.”

“It…It actually made me realize how sturdy he is. Like, he got right back on the wagon and he started really acting like himself the next morning. He didn’t go back to being an asshole with a passive death wish, he did the opposite.”

“So that sounds like great news!”

“I was such a mess, such a fucking mess.” The note taking intensifies. Somehow Dr. Borough is already halfway down the page. “He was so supportive! And he basically confronted me.”

“You mean comforted?”

“No. Well, yes. He’s noticed that I’m always in my head, trying to figure out the correct or most true course of action. And he said I didn’t need to be, because I wasn’t going to ruin his sobriety. Because he was taking care of his sobriety with a bunch of people at his rehab and stuff, so I didn’t need to prioritize it anymore. I could just prioritize myself and I could depend on him because he’s gotten to a point where he can be my support and also stay sober. But I –” you devolve into sobbing.

“Alright, take a moment. Just take a moment, y/n.” Dr. Borough doesn’t look up from her notepad for several seconds. “So, that's huge! How many days ago was that? You must be emotionally drained.”

“Yeah, from not dealing with it.”

“You’re emotionally drained from purposefully ignoring emotions?”

“Basically.”

“Alright.” Visibly processing, Dr. Borough adjusts her teal glasses and sits back. “Tell me about that.”

“Damiano just keeps pressing the issue. He wants to deconstruct and cross-examine the whole fucking situation immediately.”

“Is this usually the case, him pursuing hard conversations and you avoiding? In the past, you’ve mentioned having great communication.” It feels like an accusation that you’ve failed Damiano somehow.

“No, I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“These fucking exhausting, weighty conversations!”

“What about them are you not ready for? In my experience, you can be very articulate, especially when it comes to emotions.”

“I’m not scared of talking about our feelings. We talk about our feelings all the time, anyways. I’m not even scared of conflict. We’ve fought twice this week already!”

“Oh, really?”

“But we work it out because we can admit that we’re wrong. We don’t get off on resenting or controlling each other.”

“What were those fights about?”

“This! Me!”

“You?”

“Ugh!” You throw your head back and groan. “He…thinks that I’m unhappy. I’m making myself miserable trying to do the right thing or by trying to control…something, us.”

“The right thing?” She raises one thinning eyebrow.

“What's best for me.”

“Doing what's best for you is doing what makes you happy. It’s doing what makes you fulfilled, puts you on the path to achieve your goals.” Dr. Borough pauses, staring at you pointedly. “In terms of Damiano. What are your goals? What will make you fulfilled?”

“Being together for real, harmonious, mind, body, and soul.”

“And are your current choices facilitating that?” You feel claustrophobic, fingernails digging into the heel of your hand again. “Why the anxiety?”

“Because I can’t control him!”

“True. But that’s always been true, y/n.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter what my goals are if the other person doesn’t feel the same.”

“You think Damiano doesn’t feel the same?”

“Well, no. I know he does.”

“Alright. So let's talk about this desire to control him.” That definitely felt like an accusation. “I just watched you have a strong reaction. Why don’t you explain that to me.” Pen to paper, Dr. Borough waits while you roll your eyes and huff in annoyance.

“Before I ever stepped foot in this office, I knew that the desire to control another person was toxic. I was already taking steps to ignore that desire when I felt it.”

“So you’re not trying to control him? That's not what's making you miserable?”

“I’m not miserable,” you bite.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “But you are experiencing bouts of unhappiness, like right now. You also have clinical anxiety which constantly affects your quality of life. Agreed?”

“Yeah…” The section of carpet at your feet is more worn than another other spot in the room.

“Explain to me why that is.” You choose to be insolent instead of introspective.

“It’s impossible to tack down exactly what collection of innate and external factors contribute to any one person developing –”

“Not the anxiety, y/n.”

“I…” don’t know. But Dr. Borough wasn’t going to let you off the hook. She waits expectantly. You check the clock to find that the session isn’t quite halfway done. Damn it.

“Why are you unhappy?”

“I’m at my therapy appointment when I’d much rather be taking a nap.”

“How has your sleep been since Damiano’s relapse?”

“Worse than usual, better than expected. We…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t judge me, but the night he relapsed we slept in the same bed. Like, I slept with him on the couch.”

“‘Slept with’ as in…?”

“Cuddled.” You blush all the way up to your ears.

“And that was enjoyable.” It’s apparently obvious from your delivery since Dr. Borough makes a statement, not a question.

“Yeah and…I could hear him crying so hard. I didn’t intend to spend the night there either, but I got sleepy really quick.” A stinging sensation alerts that you’d been picking at your cuticles without realizing. “Because it felt so safe.”

“Huh. So it didn’t feel like the kiss on the plane?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you unhappy?” You glower, finally meeting Dr. Borough’s eyes. She is unfazed. “Damiano has the same relationship goals and it sounds as though he may be ready to act on those goals, right?” You don’t protest, because she’s correct, but you also don’t concede. “So this should be great news! It’s exactly what you wanted, which is why this reaction raises questions. I know it’ll be hard to admit, but maybe now that you have Damiano back, you’ve realized that your feelings towards him have changed.”

“What? No! God, I fucking wish I felt more casually about him. I wish that he couldn’t read my mind and that we didn’t have this fucking soul bond and that I could have a halfway satisfying sex life without him. I want to stop watching him sleep, getting choked up when I see his bougie shampoo in the shower, huffing his dirty gym clothes, and feeling like my heart’s been ripped out because I love him so much. I want to be less in love with him!”

“No, you don’t.” Dr. Borough sets the notepad and pen on her lap and settles into her chair with a smile. There’s been some sort of breakthrough or resolution reached. “So what's the real reason you’re self-sabotaging? Do you feel like you don’t deserve him?”

“I…guess.”

“Don’t guess.”

“Deep down inside somewhere, probably.”

“So is that it?”

“You’re the therapist.”

“And you’re far from emotionally repressed.” Dr. Borough purses her lips and squints. “So are you afraid of losing him?” You swallow hard, vision blurring with tears.

“Yes, of course. Now with these fucking high stakes conversations, what if something goes wrong?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything!”

“Based on what you've said so far, it sounds like you guys would work it out.”

“What if we break up?”

“Does it feel like you’re going to break up?”

“No.” You blow your nose and steel yourself. “I need him. I’ve let myself need him again. So I can’t, ca – can’t lose hi – him again. I can’t! It’ll fucking kill me. I don’t care if you think that's dramatic, because it genuinely feels like I’d die of heartbreak. Even thinking a – about it, can’t – I ca – ca –can’t breathe!” Dr. Borough ends up talking you off the edge of a panic attack. You think that’ll earn some slack, but it doesn’t.

“Okay, so just take small sips of water.” She uses her most soothing voice as you hold the paper cup in a trembling hand. “I’m going to be candid with you, y/n. Breaking up has always been a possibility and you’ve functioned despite it for years. Damiano dying of an overdose, however, is new. I think that’s what’s scaring you, the fact that death is irreparable.” You manage a nod. “Alright. That risk factor is never going away. So you have to decide if he’s worth it.”

“Of course he’s…” It's reminiscent of what Dami said this morning, which forces you to acknowledge that he was probably right. Putting the pieces back together was going to feel terrifying and you had to do it anyway. “I have all these rules to stop things from progressing before I’m ready. But maybe I’m never going to feel ready.”

“Progressing?”

“To stop Dami from getting too close, from things getting too intimate. I compartmentalized so damn much and I…every time I let him a little bit closer, it's like being hit by a semi-truck.”

“Reminders of his substance abuse?”

“No, beautiful memories of how our love manifested, all the ways we connected and felt at home in each other, felt profoundly understood. Memories of being joyous and intimate and becoming better people together.” Dr. Borough is noticeably moved.

“You choose to close yourself off to that because of the possibility of pain?”

“Yes!”

“That’s not living.” Finally, someone had just outright said it. You should feel stunned, but you don’t. “We’ve talked about living versus surviving in terms of your anxiety. The same can happen after trauma. Seeing Dami on life support –”

“Haven’t we already talked about that enough?” Reflexively, you make yourself smaller, hunkering down to survive this horrendous topic.

“I don’t know. Based on this reaction –”

“Based on this reaction, seeing my soulmate an inch from death is still traumatic? Shocking!”

“Traumatic, absolutely.” The even tonality of her speech is an embarrassing juxtaposition to your reactivity, but you’re still unable to quell it. “And based on your reaction, that memory still holds tremendous power over you.”

“Of fucking course it does! I still can’t even think about it like a real thing that happened to me!”

“I recall you’ve been dealing with a lot of dissociation, recently. More than usual.” Dr. Borough resumes note taking.

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because I can’t handle what's happening around me,” you reply, monotonously.

“You think you can’t handle what's happening around you because a parentified, 15-year-old y/n without an emotional support system couldn’t handle it.” She pauses. In that space, tears blur your vision until the view of the damaged carpet and scuffed shoes becomes indiscernible. “But now you have an emotional support system. You are deserving of an emotional support system, which is something that your parents failed to model in your childhood.” Again, Dr. Borough gives you space to speak, but you curl into a ball, instead. She nudges the tissues further across the table with an empathetic expression. “So you’re protecting her.”

“I am not protecting my mother,” you grumble.

“Not your mother. You’ve been protecting 15-year-old y/n, shielding her. And now you’re protecting the y/n who was confronted by the mortality of her support system’s keystone. Neither of them could handle the present moment, but you can.” Dr. Borough cleans her glasses while waiting for you to say something. Maybe it's an intentional respite from being examined.

“What – How can –” your first reaction is to splutter incredulously. “I’m not, I mean I’m – That's just human development, isn’t it? Burning your hand on the stove teaches you not to touch a hot stove. Burns are bad. They scar, they get infected.”

“Y/n, you are not avoiding a burn. You are eating takeout for every meal to avoid going in the kitchen at all. You are putting on noise canceling headphones everytime someone says the word ‘stove’ and singing to yourself loudly. In this metaphor –”

“I get it, I get it.” Well, shit.

“You’ve heard me say this before: the anxiety, the trauma isn’t your fault. However, coping constructively is still your responsibility. And, yes, that’s unfair. You had to live for your emotionally unequipped parents. In reaction to that hospital visit, I think you may have done a bit of living for Damiano when he was emotionally unequipped for sobriety. Now you’re living for the versions of yourself that are emotionally unequipped to handle the present. But it won’t break you like it might have then.”

“How can you know that!? How…I just want time to recover! I want to be certain!”

“There will never be certainty and there will never be a pause button. I know that's a really hard reality to face with clinical anxiety.” Dr. Borough sets her elbows on her notepad and leans forward. “But y/n, face it you must.”

***

You hold it together on the drive home. Knowing that Dami will be on a Zoom call with his songwriting and production team, you don’t want to walk through the front door a mess and distract him. Unfortunately, Spotify decides to play Folklore-era Taylor Swift as you pull into the parking garage.

I knew you/Hand under my sweatshirt/Baby, kiss it better

By the time the car is parked, you’re already crying. Your first group outing as a couple was a Roma football game with most of his friends and several cousins. The omnipresent barrage of screaming made your ears ring and triggered a panic attack. You tried to suppress your reaction, for which you’d finally receive a diagnosis just weeks later. When that became impossible, you settled on concealing your emotions until it passed. Just don’t freak out. For fucks sake, don’t embaress yourself.

Having turned your focus inward, the roar of the audience was a surprise and so inescapably loud that it couldn’t even be described by volume. The sound became a tangible force, beating you over the head. So you fled, hands clamped over your ears, tears flowing. It seemed like every person you passed chided you.

“‘Msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry,” you repeated, voice frail and high-pitched with terror. The adrenaline at least made climbing all those steps easier. Upon reaching the hallway at the top of the staircase, you turned around to scan the field, determining it was a good time to drop your hands. That's when you saw 18-year-old Damiano huffing and puffing, all focus dropped from the game behind him.

“Hey,” he panted, expression confused. “Hey, you just…Are you okay?” You shook your head, mouth contorted into an ugly shape. “Well, come here, baby.” Dami opened his arms like it was obviously the next logical step to hold you. The gesture revealed that he’d remembered your purse and was wearing it. You could have blurted out “I love you,” right then and there. His sparkling, empathetic eyes framed by smeared eyeliner, outstretched hands decorated by gaudy rings, and wearing his lucky sneakers which were at least a size too small. A couple middle-aged, balding men looked him up and down in disgust. Dami didn’t even notice.

“You need a hug,’ he decided, wrapping you up.

“Thanks,” you croaked, trembling arms finding steadiness where they held him.

“What’s wrong with her?” asked a male voice passing by.

“Nothings wrong with her! Who the fuck are you, eh?”

“Sorry, man.”

“No, who the fuck do you think you are saying that?”

“You’re in the middle of the walkway, dude.”

“And you’re in the middle of my fucking business, asshole!”

“Damia,” you murmured.

“Sorry, sorry.” You wondered if he could discern your smile against his pilling jersey. The fabric made your face feel raw after exposure to the ruthlessly cold gusts of wind that swept up the sides of the stadium. Still, you felt compelled to hug him tighter, but ignored the compulsion so as not to encourage Damiano acting like an attack dog. But fuck if it hadn’t made you feel chosen at age 18, coming from a family who’s attitude was god forbid your emotions inconvenience anyone.

Damiano didn’t think you were too emotional, the girl choking on her own tears over a football audience being predictably loud. He stood in the stadium’s walkway, inconveniencing everyone else to prioritize comforting you. Despite not knowing what was awry, he still managed to be soothing. Dami’s inexplicably warm hands rubbed your back under the Roma sweatshirt you wore – actually his, of course. He hummed music from the radio with a cheek pressed to your head and you subsequently felt the music’s vibrations. It tickled. An unfamiliar sensation burgeoned in the darkest recesses of your heart. Not then, but eventually, you’d come to know it as stillness.

Notes: Don't yell at me I warned you! Also I'll post the next part (the smuttastic part) when this post has 40 notes hehe

-XOXO Eden

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pjisskullourful · 7 months

Text

ᵂⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴴᵘᵐᵒᵘʳ

🐰Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 nasty adults engage in sexytimes

° Damiano David/female reader insert

° his wicked sense of humour suggests exciting sex || you & damiano become great friends after meeting at a bar, but it eventually becomes clear this should be more than a friendship [based during il ballo della vita era]

wordcount::: 9,640

° commissioned by the bloody wonder that is jace (@wow-ihateithere)💋 my absolute beloved, you're the best [commissions get priority- there are 3 fics in cue, secure your own spot right here]

° lyrics stolen from björk

The stage manager said your name, prompting you to look up, startled out of the thoughts you had been trying to keep organised. “You’re up next, babes.”

You attempted to return their smile as you got to your feet. This was the driest your mouth had ever been in your life and swarms of butterflies had taken up residence in your belly. You walked over to this relative stranger, wondering if it was too late to run away from this.

But an equal part of you insisted that you keep going and you met the manager’s eye. You had wondered about going through with this for so long, toying with the idea of stand-up comedy for years. You would be betraying a huge part of yourself if you gave into the fear and fled now. You stood in front of this person you had known for less than an hour, steeling yourself.

“When you hear the host introduce you, you just walk out and take the mic from him. Simple, right?”

“Simple.” You repeated, pleased when the word came out clearly.

You barely paid any attention to the act preceding you, they could have been speaking in an entirely made up language without you realising. What you listened to was the audience - they didn’t sound too difficult, they were generous with laughter and no aggressive voices were trying to make themselves known. Even as your hands were sweating, you thought you could do this.

There was a fair amount of applause then the host was saying your name. Before you could question it, you were starting to walk. You saw the spotlight, then you saw the smiling face of the local comedian as he held the microphone out to you. You took it and he left the stage - officially, it was too late to run now. There was modest, welcoming clapping as you turned to face the crowd. The spotlight got in your eyes at once, you raised the microphone towards your face.

“Well, hello there.” You said, a smile on your face as the adrenaline took over. “How are you guys tonight?” You turned the end of the microphone in the direction of the crowd and there were a handful of responding cheers. Less than a second later, you were snatching the microphone back towards yourself with a theatrical rolling of your eyes. “Enough about you, jeez.”

This got you your first laugh, the loudest coming at you from the right-hand side. Your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the light, allowing you to find this amused patron - a long-haired guy who appeared to be about your age. You hoped this wouldn’t be the only time you earned his boisterous laugh.

“I have a confession to make. Yes, an announcement to get us rolling. This is my first time doing stand-up.” You said, prompting some clapping. “Ooh, thank you for the encouragement, keep it coming. Give me that encouragement that I clearly didn’t get through my childhood, otherwise I wouldn’t need to be here.”

This gained laughs as you had hoped, including the long-haired guy. He sounded so genuine, you felt confident that you had him on your side. You thought that so long as you could keep this guy laughing, then you would be okay - you would be able to successfully make it through these next ten minutes.

Your hand was shaky on the microphone, but you didn’t let this rattle you. You glanced down at your other hand, where you had scribbled something of a running order with a fine-tip sharpie. You drew in the deepest breath you could manage and launched into your first proper bit.

It all happened so quickly, once you started talking it flowed out of you. Your nerves couldn’t touch you while you were on a roll like this. Your mouth was still horrendously dry but each word came out without flaw, getting you more laughs. You caught a glimpse of your best friend Liam seated at one of the tables. But your eye kept going back to that expressive stranger with the long hair. And every time you looked, he was either mid-laugh, or wearing a brilliantly bright smile.

Something moving in your peripheral vision of the rest of the stage caught your eye. The host was easing his way back onto the stage - you had done it.

“Well, that’s my time. Thank you so much for having me.” You said and as you spoke, you added more enthusiasm to each word, ramping up while wearing the biggest smile you could manage. “You guys have been so…”

In an instant, you stopped smiling and dropped your voice to a dreary monotone. “...here.” As the audience laughed, you turned to the host. You returned the microphone to the safety of his hands and gave a disappointed shrugging of your shoulders before leaving the stage.

The release was immensely satisfying, plastering a wide smile onto your face. Your body was filled with energising tingles as you got to disappear into the backstage darkness.

You began to laugh, not because anything funny was happening. This was the only way you could react to this overwhelming whirlwind of emotions. Disbelief and relief were married together in an intoxicating rush. You clasped your hands over your face and sank into the pride, so proud to have captured this victory for yourself.

You composed yourself enough to leave the backstage area, still feeling like you were walking on air as you returned to the venue’s main room. You went directly to the bar, not having to wait in line to request a glass of water. You were guzzling it down as quickly as you could, needing to remedy this feeling of the inside of your mouth being drier than a desert.

You had just turned back to the bartender, opening your mouth to speak. But someone else had approached, taking this silence as an opportunity to talk first.

“Whatever she’s having, I’ll pay.” It was the guy with the long hair. You smiled as he came closer, now that you were seeing him clearly you could appreciate how attractive he was. You had thought that his loud laughter would be enough to make him your favourite audience member, but he was racking up more merit points with you.

The bartender raised her eyebrows as she looked at you for a reaction. “Did you want a refill on that glass of water?”

“Fuck. That was meant to be smooth.” He said with a disarming smile as you giggled.

“Is that out of your price range, pal?” You teased before handing your glass back to the bartender. “A refill would be greatly appreciated, thanks.”

He turned to fully face you, resting his elbow on the bar. “I really loved your set and I didn’t think it would be right for you to not have a celebratory drink. But if that conflicts with your sobriety or something, uh…” He dragged his eyes across the stocked shelves behind the bartender. “They’ve got candy bars, I could buy you one of those?”

“I was just rehydrating. You can get me a Midori Illusion.” You said.

As you sipped your water, he repeated this order to the bartender, who got to work mixing. There was another comic on the stage now, earning their own laughs, but you only gave them a cursory glance.

Your new companion provided you with his name - Damiano. You responded with yours and a relaxed handshake was shared. The bartender set the green cocktail down in front of you and he provided payment.

“Thank you for the drink.” You said, downing the rest of your water so you could concentrate on the alcohol.

“No, you earned it. That’s a big deal what you just did.” He said. “Except, I’ve got my doubts over whether or not that was actually your first time.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Pardon me?”

“I’m just sayin’, you seemed like you knew exactly what you were doing up there, like someone with a fair amount of experience.” He said.

“Oh, so I’m a liar, am I?” You asked, wearing an amused grin on your face. “We’ve just met and already you’re calling me a liar?”

“Only a little.” He said, resplendent in his cheekiness.

You shook your head. “I don’t know if I like this side of you, Damiano.”

“Alright, how about this side?” He asked and turned his back on you, looking at you over his shoulder. “Do you like this side better?” He turned again, now putting his back to the bar. “Is this better? I’ll just side-eye you the rest of the night.”

You began laughing, raising a hand to cover your mouth before you got too loud. He appeared pleased by this, a twinkle in his brown eyes as he stood before you normally again.

“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it that you’ve never done that before.” He said.

“I swear…” You didn’t hesitate to reach out, your fingers going around the crucifix pendant on his necklace. You lifted it from between the open collar of his button-down shirt. “Hand to God, that was my first time doing stand-up comedy.”

“Well then you should take my scepticism as a compliment, you’ve got some kind of natural talent for the stage.” He said.

“Thank you. I was so nervous, I was worried that everyone would get distracted by how much my hand was shaking on the mic, it felt-”

“Girl…” Liam’s familiar voice greeted you and you found him quickly approaching you, his arms open wide. “You did it.”

You beamed at your best friend, extending an arm to him, getting excited to bask in the achievement for longer. “I did it.”

He wrapped both arms around your middle, squeezing your body tight to him. You put an arm around him and as you embraced, you thought about all of the encouragement he had given you in the lead up to tonight. He felt this victory with almost the same weight as you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Liam said as he let you go. “I just really had to say congratulations.”

“Yeah, that’s what this guy was doing- meet Damiano.” You said and the two men shared a handshake.

“Oh, we’re kind of in the way here.” Liam said, noticing the influx of people coming to the bar now that the show was over. “Should we find a table?”

“Yes. You’re coming too, right Damiano?” You asked of your new companion.

“Sure.”

The three of you found a small circular table, it was away from the main activity of the club. Conversation could be had without the need to shout over obnoxious background noises. You had some more sips of your provided cocktail.

“Was it as scary as you thought it would be?” Liam asked.

“Yeah. The anxiety was very real. I think that if I hadn’t prepared as much…” You said, pointing to the words on the back of your hand. “...I would have fallen flat on my face.”

Damiano’s eyes had remained on your hand. “Ah, I was wondering what all of that was about.”

“It’s my cheat sheet, I do it with pretty much everything.” You said, twisting your wrist before you placed the palm of your hand on the table in front of him, allowing him to read. “I was gonna make a joke about it, call myself out on it…” You indicated to one of the dot points about halfway down the very abbreviated list. “It’s really practical and helpful in some situations. But it’s not always welcome. My ex-boyfriend wasn’t exactly a fan of me looking at the notes on the back of my hand when we were mid-boning.”

Damiano burst out laughing at that. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. He would think it was weird, taking out the spontaneity compromised the romance, or whatever.” You said.

“Because he was so incredible at all the romantic stuff.” Liam sarcastically commented with a rolling of his eyes.

“What kind of notes did you need for sex?” Damiano asked, still half-laughing.

“I was working on a new blow job technique. And you do not know me well enough to ask any follow up questions about that.” You warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said before swiftly changing the topic, pointing to a different idea on your list. “That bit, that was my favourite, I think I laughed the hardest at that.”

You looked to where he was indicating. “About my parents getting divorced instead of getting me a pet bunny?”

“Yes, the way you told that was hilarious. And so succinct, but I was on the emotional journey with you, and then… no rabbit.” He said.

“Mum is gonna be pissed that I told that story.” You said, glancing at Liam. “She always gets so cranky when she hears me joking about it.”

“What does she have to be cranky about? She wasn’t the one cheated out of a rabbit.” Damiano said.

“I know.” You loudly agreed.

“I keep telling her to just buy one for herself.” Liam said.

You had another sip of your drink before shaking your head. “No, I’ve Googled, they’re actually a lot of work, kinda high-maintenance.”

This set Damiano off laughing again. “But you’re still mad that you didn’t get one as a kid?”

You maintained eye contact with him, wearing a serious expression. “It’s the principle of the thing, sir.”

“You’re so damn funny.” He said. “If you’re not a full-time comedian, then what’s your day job?”

You looked at Liam, he was starting to smirk as he leaned in. Then you returned your full attention to Damiano. “I work retail. You’ve probably heard of the shop I work at.” He cocked his head to one side, clearly curious. “The Tool Shed.”

His eyes grew incredibly wide in an instant - filled with recognition and some other emotions. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the blush rising in his cheeks as he changed how he was sitting. “Mm-hmm.” He said, sucking on his bottom lip a little. “Yep, I believe I’ve heard of that place.”

It was Liam who began laughing first, he was never unamused when seeing someone’s reaction to the fact that you worked at a sex shop. The reaction could reveal a person’s true colours, probably earlier than they anticipated. Whatever Damiano had been expecting, he hadn’t gotten it. You laughed too, enjoying catching him off guard. He started to laugh as well, appearing to loosen up again.

“Good for you.” You said. “Admitting to it, I mean. We’re the biggest adult entertainment shop in Rome, literally everybody knows about us. But there are two types of people- the ones who lie and play dumb, or the ones not afraid to be honest.”

“Congratulations, you’re in the category that we like.” Liam said before getting to his feet. “I’m gonna get a soda.”

Damiano didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second, he leaned in closer across the table. “In the spirit of honesty: my brain did explode a little when you said that.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I could kinda tell.”

“Where was any of that in your set?” He wanted to know. “You must have a million funny stories from working there.”

You had more of your drink. “I do, but I didn’t want to pigeon-hole myself as the sex-shop-girl. Besides, I prefer telling people one-on-one. Imagine if I had deprived myself of seeing your reaction. Anyway, what do you do with yourself?”

“I’m in a band, singer slash a bit of guitar.” He said.

“Yep, that tracks.”

His eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by that?”

“No, no offence, but I didn’t have you picked for a corporate world kind of guy. I judged the book by the cover and I judged that you weren’t selling life insurance or working in a bank.” You said.

“I could work in a bank.” He said, pretending to get defensive.

“Of course you could, sweetheart. You can do anything you set your mind to.” You teased before finishing your cocktail with a final swig. “So, tell me about your band?”

You didn’t just learn about his band (Måneskin - you had actually heard of it before, friends mentioning an interest once or twice), but you learnt a Hell of a lot about him because he was so easy to talk to. Between the two of you, the conversation flowed. You didn’t have time to look around, wondering where Liam had disappeared off to.

You continued to make Damiano laugh as he asked about your life. You returned just as many questions, wanting to hear about all of the interesting experiences he’d already had packed into his life.

There were common interests that you were quickly bonding over. He liked a lot of the same nerdy movies as you. Your sense of humour was syncing up, you didn’t have to explain any of your jabs or worry that he would take them the wrong way. He was a cat person just like you were.

You weren’t conscious of the time as it was passing. But you were forced to acknowledge it when Liam came back to the table, awkwardly announcing that he, your designated driver, had to leave shortly - he had work tomorrow, he couldn’t spend the entirety of his night in this club.

“It was really nice to meet you guys.” Damiano said, getting to his feet at the same time as you did.

“You too.” Liam replied.

“I was serious about being there in the front row for the next time you do stand-up.” Damiano said.

“I know and I was serious when I told you that I would message as soon as it comes up again.” You said. “And I’ll send you photos of Björk when I get home, given she isn’t feeling like running from me. You know how unpredictable cats are.”

“Moody little bastards.” He said.

Something in you was instructing that you give him a parting hug, which you wouldn’t normally do with a stranger. But for some reason, you wanted to.

It’ll be weird, an insistent voice in your head chimed in. You let this be the deciding vote, leaving on friendly terms, but without any further physical contact.

“I did it.” You reiterated after buckling yourself into the passenger seat of Liam’s car.

He paused to give you a longer look rather than starting the engine. “Which part are we celebrating- the stand-up or getting the cute boys’ phone number?”

“I was talking about the stand-up.” You gently corrected. “But if you think Damiano’s cute and you wanna talk about that more- we can.”

“Are you saying you didn’t find him cute?” He asked, starting to drive away from the nightclub. “Which bit wasn’t cute to you- was it all of the tattoos, how tall he is, all of that hair, his giant eyes, or did his really great sense of humour turn you off?”

“Yeah, he’s an attractive guy, but that’s not why I got his number.”

“Sure it’s not.” He said sarcastically, to which you just silently rolled your eyes - you could sense that he wasn’t going to let this point go. “It’s okay girl, he seemed into you too.”

“I wasn’t picking up on that vibe.” You said with a shake of your head.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.” He said. “You’re just painfully unaware of the fact that you’re a catch.”

You weren’t entirely over your post-performance rush by the time you were unlocking the front door of your home, the pleasing buzz from your accomplishment keeping a smile on your lips.

But you had to keep it inside, you couldn’t risk waking your housemate - she had an early shift tomorrow. Your main goal was to find her pet cat with as little noise as possible. After talking about her so much, you wanted to show Björk off to Damiano. Your night would be incomplete if you couldn’t share a video with him.

The black, white and brown cat looked none-too-enthused by your return home as you approached her spot in the lounge room. She was at the top of her cat tower, not even raising her head to acknowledge you. She continued looking bored as you pointed your phone’s camera at her, stretching your arms out.

See how much she loves me - you sent to him following the video of the cat looking away from you.

His response was very quick, it made you wonder if he had been waiting to hear from you. The bond is very clear.

For the sake of his entertainment, you endeavoured to create a second, more amusing video. Under the cat’s watchful eyes, you swept your hair up, capturing it in a bun on top of your head. Then you got closer to the cat tower, with her gaze fixing on the elevated section of hair.

You turned your back to the tower, lifting your phone again - this time with the front-facing camera on. Björk had taken to batting at your bun before you had begun filming. You just had to make sure you held the phone steady and at the best angle as her attack went on, swiping her paw tirelessly at your hair.

You stepped away when you stopped filming, immediately sending this video to him. We think she was a high-strung hair stylist in a former life.

Before you had reached your bedroom, you were getting his response. Jeez, I thought my brother complaining about my man bun was rude. Another message was quickly following this, note to self: wear hair down when I visit your place.

It didn’t matter that you had moved away from the cat, he kept talking with you. A new conversation began and you still had so much to say to him. You fell asleep with your phone in hand.

*** *** ***

Two months had passed since that night, and ever since you had been in constant contact with Damiano. The friendship had formed effortlessly, spending countless hours sharing ideas and laughter. You never tired of his company, getting to know him incredibly well as you saw him a minimum of once every week.

When you needed to go shopping for a housewarming gift, it seemed only natural that he would accompany you. You needed a second opinion on the ideas of what to get your co-worker ahead of his party this weekend. Damiano could provide the insight of what would suit the home of a heterosexual man - a market you weren’t typically shopping for. He liked feeling useful and you knew he would keep you entertained.

But you had yet to find an item you could agree on. Wandering the aisles of the department store, you had been vetoing one another regularly. He thought a fake plant as a gift had a shady undertone. Buying a laundry hamper for someone felt like something a mum would do, in your opinion. He advised you to stay away from anything decorated with flowers and he was unimpressed by every photo frame that you showed him.

“Why don’t you get this for him?” Damiano suggested, taking a box down from the shelf. “I’m sure Nathan will love this.”

Instead of accepting the box that he held out to you, you gave it a sceptical look. “A wireless charging station?” You just raised your eyebrows as he pushed it further into your personal space. “That doesn’t strike me as a very personal gift.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s practical. I have one, it’s a game-changer.” He said. “If you really want it to be personal, you can get a sharpie and write his name on it. Problem solved, you are so very welcome.”

You took the object from him, getting his hopes up momentarily. But then you returned it to the shelf. “I’m not, though. I don’t want to get him something that he could easily go out and buy for himself. Personal, that’s a really important factor here.”

“If it’s so fucking important, then why isn’t it written on the back of your hand?” He asked.

You considered the back of your hand, which was free of any kind of list for once. “Oh, the back of this hand? Did you wanna get a closer look at it, maybe as I’m smacking you upside the head with it?”

Instead of challenging you further, he took half a step away from you. “We need to get out of the tech section. We’re not gonna find anything with a personal touch here.”

He didn’t hesitate to leave the aisle, but you took your time, looking at the stock all around you. For the moment you weren’t thinking about Nathan, considering products for yourself.

A man saying your name distracted you, it wasn’t Damiano’s voice. And when you looked up, you immediately wished it was him, rather than the man approaching you. But you fixed a smile to your face, covering the fact that you were cringing inside.

Brad, it had been almost a full year since you had last seen him, the best friend of your ex-boyfriend. He had been around quite regularly, loving to remind you that he knew your boyfriend better than you ever would. His other favourite ‘jokes’ had revolved around the age-gap in your relationship. When you broke up with Chad, you had removed him and any of his friends from your social media, and you hadn’t looked back for a single second.

“Wow, what are the chances of bumping into you here?” Brad marvelled, wearing a smile that easily bested yours.

Silently you cursed the luck that had seen your paths crossing. “Kinda crazy.”

“You look really, really great.” He said after giving you an up-and-down assessment, which lingered at your chest - far from the first time you had caught him looking at your tits.

“Oh, thanks. And you- yeah, you too.”

He had walked over to stand directly in front of you, closer than what was necessary, bringing the strong scent of his cologne into your nostrils. “Thanks. I renewed my gym membership and I’ve actually been using it, not just wasting my money.”

“That’s cool.” You said.

“Are you seeing anybody new?” He asked. “Pretty little thing like you probably had a line waiting to take Chad’s place, huh?”

“I don’t know about that.” You said and he went on grinning, his amusement frustrating you. “I’ve mostly just been concentrating on myself, not really seeing anyone right now.”

His eyes moved down the entirety of your body again. “How have you been?” He asked, then kept on talking before you had the chance to respond. “I thought about reaching out to you, like a million times. Because the way things ended with you and Chad- that was really shitty.”

‘Don’t remind me’, you thought bitterly. He had only gotten the cliff notes. He hadn’t been there for the weeks of loud arguments, he hadn’t seen Chad throwing your phone and other belongings out the window of his apartment. You doubted Chad’s retellings had included all of the rude names he had called you, he was probably the hero in his version.

“And I wanted to know if you were okay through it. But I figured I wasn’t the person you would want to talk to, so I gave you space and all of that.” Brad said. “I don’t really talk to Chad that much anymore, you don’t have to worry about me running to him after this, with a report about bumping into you.”

This didn’t clear you of much discomfort. “Oh, that’s good.”

“We should hang out…” He said.

In the corner of your vision, you saw movement and Damiano was coming over. You were swept with relief, fighting against the urge to run over to your friend. He was respectfully keeping from rushing into the conversation, more polite than you needed him to be right now.

“Chad’s out of the picture, but that doesn’t mean me and you can’t stay friends and, you know…” Brad said, a certain look in his eyes.

You had no idea how to respond, so you grasped for the closest thing to a life-preserver that you had. “Damiano.” You held your hand out to him. “You’ve gotta meet Brad.” You were extremely grateful when he took your hand, safety. “This is my friend, Damiano.”

“What’s up, man?” Brad’s voice was completely monotone and his eyes were on Damiano for less than a second. “Anyway, we should get a coffee or dinner or you could come to my place, so we could catch up properly. I’d really like to catch up with you, honey.”

You took half a step back from him, your need to be polite dwindling as you considered hiding behind Damiano. “Actually, I’m busy with work lately and my weekend is already full, so…”

“So another time then.” Brad said. “Let me give you my number.”

You just blinked at the open palm of his hand, where he was expecting you to place your phone. “Uh, I’ve already got it. From that Halloween when Chad lost his phone.”

Brad continued to hold his hand out. “That was my old number, I got a different one when I updated my phone- got the new iPhone.”

“Hey, I’ve got something to show you a few aisles over.” Damiano told you with a brief squeeze of your hand. “The perfect thing for that party you’re going to this weekend.”

“Well hang on pal, we’re trying to get something organised here.” Brad said. “I really think we should catch up. I’ve missed you, haven’t you missed me?”

Instead of answering, you looked at Damiano, who was taking in all of this with his eyebrows raised very high. His eyes darted over to you and he seemed to know what you needed, speaking up again. “What exactly would she have missed about you- your horrible cologne or your inability to take a hint?”

“Excuse me, and who are you?” Brad asked, no longer expecting you to hand over your phone. “I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

“But check this out, you’re getting it anyway. Aren’t you lucky?” Damiano responded, full of that irrepressible sass that had you mentally cheering him on. “It’s time for you to take a seat, son.”

“Son?” Brad repeated - you made a mental note to tease Damiano over this later. In a less tense moment, it would be funny that he had called a man almost a decade older than him ‘son’.

“She’s just being polite but you hitting on her like this isn’t welcome, it’s making her uncomfortable. Which would be obvious to you if you were talking to her like an actual human.” Damiano said, eloquently expressing himself even though his annoyance was clear. You weren’t taking any notice of how Brad was reacting, as your heart was racing, your eyes were locked on Damiano. He appeared taller in this moment and you were admiring him like never before.

“But you don’t know how to do that and I sincerely feel sorry for the women in your life.” He said, finally finding what it took to get Brad to move back. “So take a seat, you can take several seats. We have a housewarming party to shop for.”

Maybe Damiano had another comeback in mind (possibly more than one) because he didn’t instantly walk away, instead giving Brad the opportunity to respond. But the man from your unpleasant past was silent and you were freed of this interaction. He took a step back, his eyes going down to the ground.

Damiano checked on you before turning and walking away, still holding your hand. You went with him, feeling a surge of more than just relief. Before you had left the aisle, you were already smiling. You didn’t know where he was going, but you were happy to be going with him, buzzing with every step.

“What a sleaze.” He commented. Then he held up a pink, stuffed bunny toy, which you had been too flustered to notice him holding until now. He passed it to you. “I found you a pet rabbit.”

You were blushing as you accepted the plushie. “Sweetie.”

Hand-in-hand, you walked past five aisles before he turned down one, determining this to be far enough from Brad. You walked about halfway down the aisle, surrounded by home security wares as Damiano placed himself in front of you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his brow furrowed as he concentrated only on you.

“Sure, I’m fine. I just feel like I need to do this…” You pushed invisible dirt off of each of your forearms, as if Brad’s very presence had brought grime to your skin. “There’s someone I didn’t need to bump into. He’s not the top of the list, but still…”

“Yeah, I could tell that it wasn’t a happy reunion for you. And with what you’ve told me about what Chad did to you, I figured you wouldn’t want to be reminiscing on that time in your life.”

Damiano was one of the only people in your life that you had told the full story of your breakup to. You didn’t indulge the misery inside of you by thinking about it very often and you really didn’t like talking about it. But you trusted him. And he had returned that trust, telling you about the breakup he had gone through not long before your meeting, the end of a two year relationship.

“You’re right, thank you.” You said. “Ugh, I hate confrontation, but you just handled that so well.”

“I didn’t say anything out of line, did I?”

“No, I was happy- I liked everything you said. Like, damn, seeing you all protective like that, it really makes me wonder what you’d look like between my thighs.” You said, maintaining eye-contact, even as you felt butterflies filling your tummy.

This wasn’t followed by an instant comeback from him, it seemed that he needed time to register this information. He stared at you, a new smile growing on his face. You smiled back, part of you in disbelief that you had said it, the rest of you very glad that you had. Your fingers fidgeted against the soft fur of the rabbit as you waited for him to move past this uncharacteristic quietness.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked.

You didn’t want to laugh and try to pass it off as a joke, instead you stepped in closer to him. “I think you know what I mean, sweetheart.”

He watched you as you raised your empty hand, holding it to his cheek. He was licking his lips as you got in closer, until you could reach his mouth with yours.

Gently, he kissed you back and you were soon feeling your heart racing. The rest of the large shop faded away as you leaned into him more. You savoured how exciting this was, as well as how natural it felt, as if you should have been doing this all along.

You deepened the kiss, unwilling to let this be short. You loved the feeling of his arm slipping around your waist, bringing so much security. It made you want to kiss him for hours, to make up for lost time. It made you want to go on discovering him in this way, to keep going until you were drunk on him.

Before pulling away, you couldn’t help swiping your tongue against his lip - feeding your curiosity because his taste was all that you wanted to know.

You watched his eyes slowly flutter open, you weren’t minding his silence so much now. The hand not holding onto the toy moved down to hold his and it was like holding his hand for the first time. You stayed close, studying his face like never before as he started smiling.

“Do you want me to explain what I mean?” You offered.

“No, I wanna take you back to my house.” He said and you didn’t know if you had ever heard a more seductive offer in your life. Already you knew this would be different to any of the other times you had been to his apartment. “I wanna know more about being between your thighs.”

Your cheeks were burning hot as you nodded. “Good, ‘cause that’s what I want, right fucking now.”

He gave your hand a keen squeeze, but he didn’t immediately begin walking for the exit. “What about buying the gift?”

“I’ll order the charging station online, whatever.”

“So now it’s a good enough gift?” He asked, looking a little smug.

But you just rolled your eyes. “That’s the thing you’re choosing to concentrate on right now?”

“Right.” He said and he spared you any bragging. “What about the rabbit?”

You didn’t hesitate to stuff it onto the closest shelf, where it immediately stood out as an imposter. “It’s not coming home with me.”

“But I am?” He asked, grinning as he clearly forgot all about the toy.

“That’s right.”

You thought about kissing him again. But before you could act on this, he was making a hurried exit from the aisle, your hand secured in his. You were beaming as you rushed to keep up with him. He didn’t slow down and you didn’t ask him to, this quickness matched the racing of your heart. You were too excited to remember to fear another bump into Brad and very soon you were power walking through the doors.

*** *** ***

Damiano had never touched you like this before, but he did it all without hesitation. This new level of closeness didn’t intimidate him and he wasn’t unsure of where he wanted to put his hands, making you wonder how much time he had dedicated to thinking about this before today.

You had thought about it. Not instantly after meeting him, but it was an idea that had begun popping up. As you spent time together, it would occur to you that you had the opportune moment to make a move and you had seriously considered it more than once. But you would always find a reason to stop yourself.

But there was no stopping now. Everything leading up to you reaching his bedroom had passed in a fast blur. There had been grabbing as you both explored, whispered requests and you were starting to learn his kissing technique.

The excitement was sizzling in the air between the two of you as you stood in his bedroom, removing clothing. You were seeing tattoos on him that you had never seen before and he was seeing all of your scars for the first time. You were so eager to see what came next.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He said, bringing your naked body into his arms so that he could secure more kisses. You shut your eyes as you sank into this embrace. His hands were tender as they moved over so much bare skin. “I wanna absolutely worship you…”

Having never heard this before, you couldn’t help but smile. You caressed the nape of his neck as you looked into his eyes, seeing great anticipation reflected back to you. “That sounds really romantic, sweetheart. But what does that mean, it’s kinda vague.”

“You’re right. Let me make it clear for you, yeah?” He asked. “Please, lay down on your back for me.”

You did this instantly. It felt like it had been years since you had last experienced intimacy. And you had never had it like this before. As you automatically spread your thighs, you struggled to recall a partner that you had been this honest with. You felt safety as you looked at that familiar face, even as he looked at you in a different way. In this security, you were granted the luxury of being vulnerable, you wanted to serve your vital connection by holding nothing back.

He had brought his knees down to the mattress, towards the end of the bed. As leaned down closer to you, his eyes swept up-and-down your body, lingering the longest on your face. He studied your expression, looking for a reaction that suggested you needed to stop.

When he didn’t get this, he progressed with getting into position to eat your cunt. Your heart was pounding as you watched all of this, acutely aware of how his body heat reached your skin before you felt his touch. You had never had a man begin with cunnilingus before, not without an exhaustive amount of begging from you.

You were so keen that you couldn’t help squirming before he’d had the opportunity to lower his head down to your crotch. The ends of his long hair tickled at your thighs, until you gathered it up in your hands, twisting some of the strands around your fingers. You watched as his brown eyes got locked onto your cunt and you sucked in a quick breath.

His fingers were gentle as they went to your labia, parting them just enough to get your moist clit exposed to him. You let out a shaky sigh when he touched his lips to your clit, greeting the hood with a little kiss. You were immediately invigorated by this feeling, getting your hopes up at this seemingly promising start.

He didn’t shy away from giving your clit more attention. You rested your head down on his pillow, your thighs opening wider as he trained his tongue onto the hood, working it back-and-forth in a luxurious massage. So many sensitivities sprang to life inside of you and his unhurried movements made it seem like he had the time to explore all of them. You sank into this teasing as you happily floated away from everything else.

Needy whines were falling from your lips when he placed his mouth around your clitoral hood so that he could begin sucking on it. This intensity had you seeing little stars in your vision. You felt so much blood surging into the hood, until all of your cunt seemed to be aching. You tilted your pelvis and he kept your legs from moving by placing his hands to each of your thighs.

“Fuck. You are really good at this.” You told him as more of your body was rocked by these dazzling sensations.

He let your clit slip out from between his lips and lifted his head, gazing up at you. “Thanks babygirl. And I don’t even need notes on the back of my hand to help me give good head.”

You frowned in response to the very pleased smile on his face and you made to reposition your leg. “Prepare to be kicked, I will kick you in that smug, pretty boy face.”

He laughed, unbothered by your threat. He ensured that you couldn’t act upon this by grabbing both of your ankles, his fingers wrapped tight as he forced them onto the mattress. Your heart was launched into your throat as he quickly transferred his grip to your knees, holding them down. He met your gaze and you could see he was still smiling, still happy with himself.

You were without any further threats, nor did you have any sassy comments to make. You were just concentrating on how it felt to have him pinning your legs down, how it made you desire him all the more. You knew you wouldn’t be able to easily get yourself free and you loved it, you wanted to know more of his control.

You were even wetter when he returned his mouth to your pussy. You were so happily at his mercy as he kept a consistent pressure on your knees.

He glided his tongue over the hood in one smooth motion. Then the next thing you were feeling was just the tip of his tongue, reaching down to give the hood something like a poke. It was over just as quickly as it had begun. Then you were feeling it again-and-again as he bobbed his head, bouncing the tip of his tongue against your clitoral hood.

Your breathing had become laboured but you smiled as you enjoyed these quick bursts of contact. His firm tongue was building up tingles inside of you, ready to surge through all of you. The moments when your clit was allowed to pulse against his tongue were so thrilling, filling you with something more powerful than butterflies and you knew they could take you higher. But the moments in between were exciting as well, your nerves on edge as you tried to recover from his last tap, while attempting to prepare for the next.

He worked according to his own tempo. You were enjoying this masterful teasing so much that you found yourself beginning to laugh, a desperate, gasping sound that you had no control over.

You sought out a use for the tension gripping you and so you set your hips into motion. You rode the waves of pleasure, synchronising with him occasionally.

You liked this indulgence so much that you kept at it, steadily rocking into his face. You continued going, even when he stopped bouncing his tongue to go back to sucking on your clitoris. The stakes were higher this time around, prompting your knees to twitch and tremble under his hands.

The way that he wiggled his head paired perfectly with the way you were rolling your hips. It wasn’t just teasing anymore, with every single inch of your clitoris being stimulated it was getting to be mind-blowing. He was taking full advantage of all of the sensitivities in this very concentrated area and you were obsessed with it.

“Mmn…” You moaned as your grinding into his face got more powerful and you began to partially sit up.

You could sense the edge coming and it intimidated you. You grabbed his hand with one of yours and he instantly held it back, letting you squeeze. Your other hand went to your mouth, somewhat muffling the sounds that were coming in more frequently.

The trembles in your body had become non-stop and there were even more stars in your vision. Your heart sat in your throat as you continued to enjoy the intensity of his lips caress.

Your breathing skipped and you came undone. Your entire body jolted, feeling the dazzling surprise. Your knees shot up and you forced yourself into his face with all of the strength that you had.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck…” You whimpered as you well and truly captured the peak.

Your clit continued to pulse as he pulled back. Your chest was burning as you looked down and placed your hands to his cheeks. His eyes were sparkling as they reached your face, surveying you again.

“Are you alright, babygirl?” He asked, repositioning his body between your legs.

“More than.” You felt like you were stating the obvious as you said it. “Get on top of me, right fucking now.”

“Let me get a condom.”

You were still filled with so much desire, hardly worn out from your orgasm as you watched him covering his boner with latex. You weren’t done enjoying him in this way, stuck wondering how much higher he could take you.

You could taste your pussy on his lips as soon as he started to kiss you, his mouth hungrily reclaiming yours. He kissed you deep enough to steal away what little breath you did have.

He laid down on top of you, his body comfortably fitting with yours. In the process, your mouths didn’t separate, chasing more of this connection. He wrapped one arm around your middle, holding you tight, skin pressed on skin like never before. Soon you were experiencing the sensation of melting into each other.

You draped one of your arms over his shoulders, so very happy with this embrace. Your hand moved up the back of his neck, synchronising with how you eased your tongue forward, teasing it between his lips. You held the back of his head as you guided your tongue deeper, pushing over the top of his.

You had been feeling his cock all along, its stiffness pressing against you and trying to gain your attention. You instantly noticed when he repositioned to get it closer to your pussy and you responded by moving your thighs further apart. He fit into this space perfectly.

You slid your tongue against the roof of his mouth as he slowly stuffed himself into you. He was whining as your cunt eagerly hugged to the first couple of inches of his cock. His receptive head was engulfed and the arm holding you tensed.

He drew back from your mouth with a gasp. Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of him licking his lips. His face remained very close to yours as ragged breaths fell from his mouth. He adjusted his weight on top of you, his ever-watchful eyes still monitoring all of your reactions.

“You’re just so beautiful.” He said and you wanted to remember this look on his face for the rest of your life - how did this keep getting more intimate? Surely a limit would soon be reached.

“And I bet that- well, I wanna see if you get even sexier when you come.” He said.

You smiled as you wrapped one of your legs around his waist. “Yeah, that’s what you wanna see?”

“Yeah.” He echoed you immediately.

You rolled your hips up, taking a little more of him into your pussy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He repeated, his eyelids briefly fluttering when you plunged forward another time.

There was a feeling of pressure on your tender clit as you gave another thrust, making the movement of your body with his even more significant.

As he began experimenting with his range of motion, more of his dick disappeared inside of you. Soon you were writhing into him, encouraging the swinging of his hips. You held tighter to him, embracing this momentum.

He had established a rhythm, still sliding more of his length into you. His eyes remained on your face, not a single reaction went unnoticed as he concentrated on your enjoyment.

You loved the feeling of grinding against him as you matched his tempo, meeting him thrust-for-thrust. You were safe to go higher with him, unafraid to make more honest sounds as the pleasure kept increasing. Those stars were back in your vision.

He bottomed out with a gasp, his hips on yours pinning you down to the bed. You both paused, your bodies settling into this new closeness. Then he bumped his nose against yours, tilting his head until he could capture your lips in a kiss.

As you concentrated on kissing him, the fluttering of your sensitive inner-walls continued beyond your control. The eager, unpredictable spasming made it impossible for him to remain still for very long. You welcomed the friction that came with this and you joined the momentum as soon as you could.

When he picked up speed, you kept up with him. Desperation dictated your movements and you could feel each collision having so much impact. It was getting harder to breathe but you didn’t mind, just enjoying how deep these stimulations were reaching. It was so intense, poised to take over every part of your body.

He let out a choked sob after your lips parted. Listening to his laboured breathing, you could notice his rocking had lost some of its smoothness. His hand went to the pillow beside your head, muscles flexing as he gripped it in a fist.

“You feel so- oh- good.” He moaned, his approval making your heart do a little somersault.

“So do you, sweetheart.” You said over the consistent noises of your skin slapping together. “Keep fucking me. Please keep fucking me just like that, Damiano.”

“I think that I- oh, I’m close.” His words came out in a strained whisper and you could clearly see the effort on his face. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a smile, paying attention to the little changes he already displayed.

He had said he wanted to see you come, but now it was you who wanted to watch. You wanted to know how he looked in that moment of perfection, how he reacted to it.

“Yeah.” He said shakily.

“Do it, you should do it.” You purred, giving him a quick kiss.

He was holding his eyes shut as he kept still. A crease had formed between his eyebrows and his breathing was heavier than ever. “I don’t think I can hold off.”

You tightened your leg around him and grinded a little. “Do it, come. Be a good boy and come for me.”

His bottom lip trembled and he whispered your name before easing himself back into motion. You gathered up handfuls of his long hair, holding it away from his face, your view unobscured as he kept getting quicker. It was a rhythm you didn’t have the strength to match as you just rode out the rapidly increasing pleasure.

It only took a few more enthusiastic thrusts to get him over that edge. His orgasm was reached with a triumphant whine as he latched onto his bottom lip with his teeth. He stopped mid-plunge into you, the creases leaving his face as he secured his delight.

You were watching the fluttering of his eyelids before his head slumped. He brought his forehead down to rest against your shoulder, sighing heavily. You played with his hair, feeling how he continued to throb inside of you.

“I didn’t mean to- I didn’t- that’s not how-...”

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

He groaned, keeping his head down. “I couldn’t help it, but I didn’t want to come first. I wanted it- fuck…”

“It’s not a big deal.” You said.

He groaned again, sounding truly displeased. “The woman should always come first. That’s what I think, and usually I can…”

“What… are you seri-...?” You tried to manually lift his head. “I did come.” This got the desired reaction and he looked up at you. “When you were going down on me, I came. I told you that you’re really good at-...”

“I didn’t know you came from that.” He said, seeming that he was coming back into himself.

“Oh. I didn’t know that you didn’t know.” You said. You nuzzled your nose against his, smiling as an opportunity presented itself. “I bet you could make me louder, so loud that it’s crystal clear this time.”

He smiled back as he braced himself by putting his hands on the bed. “I’d love that.”

You leaned in, your lips hovering less than an inch from his. “Do it, sweetheart. Get me off again.” You kissed him, giving him a greater sense of how eager you remained. “I know you can do it.”

He was still smiling when he started to move again, rocking his hips as he stayed buried deep inside of you. He hovered over you, watching how you took it when he established the rhythm.

You let your eyes flutter shut, those twinkling stars ready to greet you at once. You didn’t quite match his movements as you rolled your hips, but the motion felt good, all of your body invested in these wonderful sensations.

It was all enough to take you higher and you didn’t resist any of the noises that were soon rising up inside of you. You weren’t using your hand to muffle these moans. You let them come out loudly, celebrating your pleasure without any shame. His enjoyment of this was obvious as he pounded into you quicker and harder.

It was building to something truly spectacular, you knew this as fact as you kept writhing and trembling underneath him. You could see the stars expanding in your mind’s eye as your inner-walls spasmed relentlessly around him. The desperation gripped you like never before, going straight to your head until every thought was blocked out.

“Fuck.” You cried out in response to every bit of intense stimulation shooting at a direct path to your core. You simply couldn’t hide, you would be shortly overwhelmed.

“Come, babygirl.” He cooed, his words marked with exertion. “Come for me.”

The stars in your eyes became fireworks, fizzing and bursting in a fabulous display. Your body rocketed up into him for one last collision before you were pushed over the glorious edge. You loudly rejoiced as you surrendered all control.

The next thing you were aware of was your body slumping back onto the mattress as you greedily sucked in as much air as possible. You were still seeing the glow of the fireworks as he carefully pulled out. You felt him applying soft kisses to your face, but you were still too far gone to react to this.

You were gradually coming back into yourself as he laid down next to you. He initiated the beginnings of a cuddle with one arm around you and you savoured this continuing closeness. It wasn’t long before you were cuddling him back.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were instantly taking in the sight of his bright smile. It made your heart flutter a little and you found yourself reflecting on the first time you had seen him smiling at you like this. You supposed he’d been in possession of a piece of your heart ever since he had made that night for you - this was a conclusion you probably should have seen coming. As you inched closer to him, you smiled back. You enjoyed seeing him in this new light.

“Do you feel worshipped, babygirl?” He asked and you sensed you could get addicted to him calling you this nickname.

“God, yes.”

“Excellent, because there’s more where that came from.” He told you before covering your lips in enthusiastic kisses.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin smut #maneskin fic #manesmut #damiano david fic #damiano x reader #damiano david x you

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writingmaneskin · 1 year

Text

The Rest is History - A Damiano David Blurb

Pairings: Damiano David x Reader

Fluff

Words: 1.2k

Description: Will either of you be brave enough to be open about your feelings?

A/N: Still working on things, and life.

THE MAIN MASTERLIST

join the taglist || ko-fi || come chat

You could not remember a time when he wasn’t in your life.

Even looking back through family videos and pictures, there he was, always by your side.

It took you years, perhaps far too long to realize that you never wanted him to leave.

“Your head is in the clouds again.” Damiano joked, seeing that you couldn’t focus on the conversation happening backstage. You had joined them on the road for a couple of shows, to catch up and spend some much needed time with Damiano.

You looked at him all smiley and he smiled immediately too.

“What?” He asked, a note of self-consciousness in his voice.

“Nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, just thinking.”

“Do you want to go out for a smoke?” He offered.

“Please, some fresh air will do wonders.”

You heard Vic say something to the others but couldn’t pay much attention to her words as Damiano put his hand on your lower back and warped all your attention immediately.

You walked side by side with him, his hand never leaving your lower back.

“Can I be honest?” He asked, lighting his cigarette before passing you the lighter.

“I will be very hurt if you stop being honest with me for some reason.”

He smiled.

“I think you are overworked and that you desperately need a break.”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” You replied.

He chuckled.

“I am used to this life.” He tried to argue.

“That doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”

“There’s only one puzzle piece missing from my life.” Damiano admitted.

“What is it?”

The door of the arena opened, Thomas coming out.

“It’s your turn in the makeup chair. Or we’ll be late.” Thomas announced.

Damiano’s smile looked sad but you both put out your cigarettes and he put his hand on your back again and all three of you walked back.

“This conversation is not over.” You kissed his cheek before he went to get all pretty for the show.

Your heart always threatened to leave your chest whenever he was performing - a wild mix of joy, anxiety and pride, as well as love trying to overwhelm you and take over.

You always had the best time at their shows and there was something special about being able to greet him as soon as he was off stage and hug him and just.. have that moment.

“They are so cute together.” You heard Thomas tell Vic and the comment caused you both joy and pain.

“When will you put him out of his misery?” Ethan winked at you, making you blush.

You noticed that Damiano was red too but didn’t say anything.

“I am not going to kill him, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

“Y/N loves me that much at least.” Damiano teased.

Your mouth worked faster than your brain.

“I love you more than you could imagine.” You confessed, but assumed that your words would be taken as friendly love, nothing romantic. You didn’t want to make Damiano feel uncomfortable.

No one said anything until Vic finally suggested you all go to McDonalds for the after show ritual.

“Are you okay?” Damiano asked, taking the seat next to you.

“Just a bit tired.” You lied, trying to avoid talking about the elephant in the room and your recent love confession.

“Can we talk soon?” He brushed his hand against yours.

“You’re talking now.” Vic tried to make it less awkward in her own way. It only made you blush again and Damiano looked tired of the shenanigans.

“Privately, Victoria.” He emphasised and you wondered what that was about and if it will end up with you crying at the end of the night.

“We’ll talk. I promise.”

“Good. I have had some things on my mind that I want to share with you.”

You caught an exchanged look between Vic and Thomas and Ethan nudging them to keep quiet as you got to the McDonalds drive through.

About two hours later, you were in your hotel room, Damiano awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“I won’t bite. Come in.” You encouraged him.

“I hope you won’t.” He chuckled.

“Well, I can bite if you want me to, but I promise I will keep to myself.” You tried to be casual with your flirting and caught a smirk on his face as he sat down on your bed.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while because I feel like this conversation is long overdue.”

“Okay, please go ahead.” You could feel the anxiety building up in your stomach but there was nothing much that you could do except wait and see what the love of your life would say and try to live with whatever new reality is sprung on you.

“I’ve had feelings for you for a very long time.” Damiano started and stopped as soon as he saw the shocked expression on your face.

“What?”

“I have had feelings for you for as long as I can remember and it’s unfair on both of us if I just keep them for myself.”

You pinched yourself discreetly, hoping that this wasn’t just some trick that your brain might be playing on you.

“What do you mean you’ve had feelings for me for as long as you could remember?”

“I mean exactly what I said.” Damiano said calmly, but you could see the heartache starting to threaten. He thought you were rejecting him.

“And you never said anything?”

“No. I didn’t think it’s worth it. I always thought you could do better.”

You took a step closer to him.

“And what would happen if I were to tell you that I feel the same way?” You spoke quietly.

A look of pure shock went through his face.

“I would assume that you are kidding me.”

“You’ve known me my entire life, Damiano David. I would not lie to you, let alone about this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I felt like you could do better.”

He looked too stunned to speak.

“I love you.” You cupped his face very gently and felt his hands on your lower back, pulling you closer.

“I love you.” He smiled at you and you could see the tears coming to his eyes.

You walked downstairs to the lobby area hand in hand, smiles gracing both of your faces.

“Do not start with the “I told you so.””. Damiano told Vic as she was opening her mouth. Ethan and Thomas started laughing as Vic looked almost scandalized even though it was what she was going to say.

“I want to know everything!” She said after recovering for a moment.

“We spoke.” You smiled, not holding back on the heart-eyes you were giving Damiano.

“Aaaaaaaand?” Vic nudged, wanting to know more.

“The rest is history.” Damiano winked at her.

This new, old love, this new and old situation and the space to be open about your feelings made you feel free, which in turn brought such joy that you kept pinching yourself to make sure that it’s all real.

“Indeed, the rest is history.” You smiled and pulled your new boyfriend for a kiss.

--------------------------

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#damiano david #maneskin #damiano david x yn #damiano david x reader #damiano david x you #damiano david blurb #damiano david fanfic

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abiiors · 1 year

Note

Can i request more Damiano David angst please? 😅🥺

Hey, thanks for the ask! I hope you like it :)

Consolation Prize // D.D.

Damiano David x Reader

Warnings: Minors dni, it’s an FWB situation so it’s 18+, he’s a bit of an asshole in this one. Also just angst with no happy ending.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: I didn’t mean to rhyme the last lines but I’m happy about the coincidence. Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated :)

Masterlist

There’s a voice in your head screaming at you to not do it. Yet as another knock sounds at the door, your feet carry you involuntarily. You know who it is, there’s no need to peep through the keyhole but you can’t resist it. You can’t resist taking this one glimpse at him before he’s inevitably going to break your heart again.

‘Hi,’ you greet as you open to door. ‘Come in.’

This has become routine at this point—Damiano texts “U up?”. You tell yourself to ignore the message, to blow him off with some excuse, yet every single time you cave just as the second text comes in.

‘Hey, baby,’ he greets in return, presses a rough kiss on your mouth.

You used to dream of these kisses, dream of his mouth on every single inch of your body. You even imagined the gentleness of them once. But whatever this is—being fuck buddies, friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it—this has slowly sucked the life out of those dreams.

Yet you can’t stop going back to him.

‘You’re thinking about something,’ he frowns and for a moment his voice is laced with genuine concern. ‘Are you not in the mood? You know we can always reschedule this,’ he points between the two of you.

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in your chest and you have to actually turn around to get a hold of yourself. Reschedule this as if it’s just another appointment; clinical and unavoidable.

‘No no,’ you smile at him and hope he doesn’t notice your dead eyes. ‘Work has been a bit stressful lately, that’s all.’

It’s an easy lie and you know he’ll never question it. He hardly knows what you do for work, there’s a one-in-a-million chance he’ll actually want to know what’s stressing you out at your job.

‘Well then,’ he grins, ‘you know what’s good for stress.’

And that’s how it starts this time. He trails kisses down your neck, makes his way down to your cleavage and tries to leave a few hickeys there. You close your eyes and imagine a different reality—one where he mumbles I love you after each kiss, one where he tells you how obsessed he is with you, how he can’t keep his hands off you. One where he’s so gentle with you that you might as well be made of glass.

But that’s not what this is. Damiano has always been very clear about what this is.

You’ve got the motions of this memorised. You take each other’s clothes off; leave a trail of them to the bedroom. Despite the maelstrom of thoughts in your head, your body betrays you again and again. It always reacts to his touch, always craves more of him. It wants him never to let go.

But there’s always a ghost in the room; the spectre that is “the other woman”. He thinks you’re unaware of her but lately, it seems you’ve spent more time thinking about her than you’ve thinking about him. He longs for her, you long for him and yet you can’t let go.

Is she the other woman? A voice chides in your head and you fake a moan to cover up the gasp.

Even when he’s buried inside you, you know you’re not the one he’s thinking about. You’re never the one he’s thinking about; it’s always her, it’s always been her. But he can’t get her, so his consolation prize is you.

Even when his face is tucked in the crook of your neck, it’s her body he’s dreaming of. Only a fool wouldn’t notice how her name is always on the tip of his tongue, just fighting to get out.

‘Dami?’ you ask once you lay side-by-side, panting and catching your breath, ‘will you stay the night?’

His eyes widen a bit and then he laughs awkwardly. ‘You know I can’t, baby. I’ve got, uh…Thomas wants to show me something.’

‘Of course,’ you smile.

It’s always Thomas or Ethan or Vic, it’s never you though. He makes a move to get out of bed and suddenly you’re hit with a barrel of conflicting feelings.

You want him gone. You want to beg him to stay. You never want to see him ever again. You want to wake up next to him every day.

As he starts to get dressed, you grab the robe that’s hanging on the bedpost. This is the part you dread the most—the aftermath. You try not to seem too eager for him to get out. If he lingers even just a little…

‘That was fun,’ he smiles and you can already feel the awkwardness radiating off of him. None of you knows how to say goodbye yet your reasons for it could not be more different from each other. You hold the door open for him, smile a tight-lipped smile, go along with the motions when he gives you a goodbye kiss.

He takes two steps towards the lift, then stops and turns around abruptly. This is it, you think, he’s reconsidered. He wants to stay.

‘Can I see you again tomorrow?’ he asks and your heart dies a gruesome death for the millionth time.

Just set me free, you want to scream at him, why won’t you just set me free? Instead, you nod and force a smile.

‘Tomorrow works for me.’

#damiano david #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano david angst #damiano david imagine #damiano david fic #damiano david fanfiction #maneskin #maneskin x reader #this is angst #just angst #no happy ending #minors do not interact #writing requests

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jackietorrance · 1 year

Text

Yes, smile

Damiano: Why do you let me win when we race up the stairs? You’re the faster one. Y/n: Erm… it’s nice see your smile when you win! later Damiano: They're probably just staring at my ass, aren't they. Victoria: Yeah, probably.

#damiano david #damiano david x reader #damiano david x you #maneskin #damiano david x gn reader

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cherry-velvet-skies · 2 years

Text

Young and Beautiful

Photographer!Damiano David × GN!Reader

Genre: Equal parts Angst & Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of body dysphoria, brief depiction of a panic attack, no smut but some suggestive parts

Words: 4k (oof it's a long one, folks)

Summary: Reader has slight body image issues, and Dami suggests doing a nude photoshoot to help Reader see how beautiful they are

=======================================

==================================

As the evening sun flowed through the open doors of the balcony, you sat on the bed, fidgeting with the silk tie of your floor-length robe. Your current state of being was, somehow, a combination of apprehension and anticipation.

You had never been professionally photographed before. Sure, you would partake in the occasional selfie, but rarely included any part of your body from the neck down.

The relationship you had with your body was one that brought you much confusion. Deep down, you felt like a decently confident individual, having occasional bouts of triumph, where you felt like you could wear anything, go anywhere, and accomplish everything. But of course, the highest of highs come with the lowest of lows. You'd wake up the next morning and stare at yourself in the mirror until what you saw back didn't even feel like you, but a distorted version of just that. You knew it was unhealthy, but sometimes it felt impossible not to compare yourself to others.

Earlier that day, Damiano had asked if he could take some photos of you. When he first proposed the question, you were quite pleased, having just gotten a new haircut that you didn't mind flaunting. Besides, you had allowed Dami to take a few photos of you before, and overall, you were delighted he had chosen you as his muse when he decided to take up photography. However, when he informed you that his desired concept was a nude photoshoot, you were a bit taken aback.

“A nude photoshoot?” You inquired, making sure you heard him correctly. “Like, nude nude? As in fully naked?”

“I’m not sure what else it could mean, amore.” Dami smiled, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I completely understand.”

You sighed uneasily. A nude photoshoot was undoubtedly outside of your comfort zone, your anxiety quickly shutting down the idea of it.

“Don’t you think you would rather have a professional model for something like that?” You mumbled, staring at the floor. Damiano noticed your hesitation, reaching for your hand and holding it in his own, his thumb running over the back of your palm.

“I know what you’re thinking, baby,” Dami whispered, tilting your chin upwards to make eye contact with him. “But honestly, I’m not doing this for practice the way painters and sketch artists do. I don’t want just anyone. I want you.”

You knew he was coming from a place of good intentions, but the hurtful part of your brain still wasn’t convinced. You sank further into the couch, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of the way your clothing felt against your body.

“I’m sorry, Dami, I just don’t think I’m sexy enough for something like that.” You said, your voice breaking. Damiano’s expression fell as tears gathered in your eyes. “They’d probably turn out horrible, and I can’t even imagine you adding something like that to your portfolio. Plus I-” Dami quickly stopped your rambling by wrapping his arms around you, your head neatly tucked against his neck as he shushed you gently.

“I’m sorry, Dami…” You repeated through short sobs, feeling your tears soak the collar of his shirt. He hugged you tighter each time you said it.

“Oh sweetheart…” He cooed, moving one of his hands to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair. “There’s no need to be sorry. Please look at me, love,” He begged, trying to hide the sound of his voice breaking as well. You craned your neck to peek at him, your eyelids puffy with a hint of redness. “First of all,” he began, “if we do this, those photos are going nowhere near my portfolio. They’re just for me. For us. They’re far too valuable to be placed with all my other photos.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then another to the tip of your nose, and finally one to your lips. Dami breathed a small sigh of relief when a smile appeared on your face at his affection. “And secondly,” he continued, “this has nothing to do with being sexy. Photographing people, especially when they are nude, is about a beautiful exhibition of the human body. And what better person to start with than the one with the most beautiful body in the whole world?”

Beautiful? Beautiful. You stared blankly for a few moments, processing what Dami had just said. He was the only person who ever called you that. A majority of the reason why your self-consciousness would make an appearance so often was because your features were never praised as such. The problem wasn’t that you wanted to look like everyone else. You just wished your features were commended like all the others were.

But that was the difference. Damiano appreciated your beauty. He loved every single thing about you.

“How many photos did you plan on taking?” You asked, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “Did you intend on making a whole event out of it?”

“I’ll take as many or as little as you want me to.” Dami stated. “I’ll take enough to make you a book of them, or I can take just one and frame it for you.” He giggled. “All that matters is that you’re happy and comfortable.”

You felt like crying again, but not for the same reason as before. You took Damiano’s face in your hands, cupping his cheeks as he smiled warmly. You caressed the stubble on his chin, silently berating yourself for caring what the world thought of you. Dami thought of you as the most amazing creature on this planet, and you found it so hard to believe him. You knew he loved you very much, and his only hope was that you will one day see yourself the way he saw you ever since the day he met you.

“Okay.” You exhaled sharply. “I’ll do it. But can we do it as soon as possible so my stupid brain doesn’t have time to change its mind?”

Dami’s eyes lit up, ecstatic that you had agreed. He grinned from ear to ear, chuckling at your statement. “Your brain isn’t stupid. And you can tell it to wait for me in the bedroom while I go get my camera.”

So now here you were, in your blackberry colored silk robe, anxiously tapping your foot against the floor, the sound of your skin against the freshly polished wood echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Damiano’s only instructions were to undress. No fixing of the hair, no makeup, no nothing. He wanted you completely nude, which included how you chose to decorate your face. You peered around the room, your gaze scanning the cool-toned lavender walls, wondering what Dami was actually going to do with the photos he took of you, if anything. He already said they weren’t going into his portfolio, so then what was he going to do with them? Were they just going to stay in his camera or in a file on his computer forever? Was he really going to make them into a photobook, or frame them individually? You imagined the vast walls around you adorned with enlarged photos of yourself trapped in ornate gilded frames. You weren’t sure if you loved that idea or hated it.

You were snapped out of your reverie by the sound of the bedroom door opening. Now that Dami had finally returned with his camera, you realized this was actually going to happen. You felt bad about backing out now, after you had just agreed to it mere minutes prior. All you hoped was that your confidence lasted long enough for Dami to get a few good shots. He positioned his tripod by the balcony, taking advantage of the lovely golden sunlight.

“I would love to start out with you against this wall.” He announced, pointing to the side of the room that shared its space with the approaching sunset. Dami briefly lowered his gaze, adjusting the angle of the tripod plate to take portrait photos. You admired his face of concentration, the way his gorgeous silhouette looked against the scenery just outside the glass doors. You thought of him the same way he always said he thought of you. Absolutely beautiful.

He turned back to you, who was still awkwardly sitting on the bed. “You look tense.” He declared. “You don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

You pursed your lips, pulling up the collar of the robe to prevent it from slipping off your shoulder. “I feel like I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try.”

Damiano nodded, approaching the bed and offering you his hand. You extended your own to softly grasp his fingertips when he pulled you up off the bed and into a warm hug. You sighed, though it sounded more like a laugh. That laugh soon turned to a squeal of surprise when Dami lifted you off your feet and spun you around, hearing his cheerful laughter ring throughout the room as he did so. It was clear that photographing you this way was something he'd been wanting to do for a while, but wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject. You were secretly glad he finally did.

“I love you so much.” He mumbled into your chest, placing a kiss against your sternum.

“I love you too.” You beamed, always feeling your best when you were with him. Once he set you down, you scampered over to the wall on the other side of the room, pausing to glance outside and over the balcony, admiring the way the evening clouds blanketed the mountains towering behind the city. It looked even more beautiful at sunset, the sharp angles of the buildings contrasting the soft orange light the sky had cast upon them. You found it so easy to see the beauty of nature, no matter how it presented itself to the world. You almost envied the feeling, but didn’t know how to express that you coveted what the world so naturally produced. It didn’t seem logical.

As you settled into position, Dami stared at you through the tiny screen of the camera. He used few color alterations when shooting, trying to keep the photos as raw as possible, especially in a situation like this. He looked back up at you, clasping his hands together with excitement.

“Okay, baby, whenever you’re ready.” He breathed, waiting for you to make a move. Taking a steadying breath, you slowly undid the tie of your robe, feeling as it fell to the floor, the cool fabric pooling around your ankles. You kept your eyes closed, hoping that would make a difference. The room was so quiet that you heard Dami’s barely audible sigh of contentment. He took you in ever so slowly, softly biting his lower lip as his eyes scanned over your entire form. You tried your best to relax against the wall, attempting to acquire a pose that looked the least bit confident and not like you were frozen solid.

Finally opening your eyes, you stared at Dami, whose consistent pleasant smile made you feel a bit more at ease. The only pose idea you had was to lay your hands flat against the wall behind you, pushing your shoulders out while the rest of your torso caved more inward. It was a fair compromise to your body desperately trying to hide itself while still trying to maintain a professional exterior. You knew it wasn’t technically a professional shoot, but you were still trying to give Dami the best you could manage at the moment.

You nodded to him that you found your comfortable position, to which he happily bent down to look at the screen again. Your hypervigilance seemed to be the one thing that wouldn’t back down, though. You heard every click of the capture button, every whir of the lens expanding and contracting when Dami zoomed in or out, and every shuffle of his feet when he would look at you from a different angle. You weren’t sure if you should keep your eyes closed the whole time or not, but alternated from doing so and looking at the floor, keeping your eyelashes on full display.

After what seemed like five photos that Dami had taken, you felt your heart begin to race. You did your best to ignore it, knowing it was just your anxiety. You tried to change your position, thinking that would help you stay calm, but once you stopped using the wall for support, you felt incredibly dizzy. Tears pricked at your eyes as you leaned against the wall again. Damiano looked up at you, immediately running to your side to see what was wrong.

“What happened, baby? Are you okay?” He asked frantically. You tried to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob. Snatching your robe off the floor, you hurriedly returned to the bed and curled up on it, placing the robe over your whole body including your head. Dami knew that whenever you went full turtle mode, you were having a panic attack.

Though he did nothing wrong, he felt awful. You noticed the bed shift as he sat down next to you, placing a hand on your back through your protective robe shield.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He whispered, "The last thing I wanted was to upset you like this. I never should have pushed you to do it."

"It's not your fault, Dami." You croaked from underneath the robe. "I wanted to try. I just thought I'd be able to get through at least a few minutes before I broke." Damiano peeked under the corner of the robe to see your face, brushing away the hair that covered your eyes.

"Can you at least come out here so I can hug you?" He pleaded, offering you his hand again. You huffed as you pushed yourself up, readjusting the robe to wear it properly before cuddling up next to Dami. Your body had calmed down by now, but overall, you were still filled with sorrow about the outcome of it all.

"What were you thinking about that made you feel this way?" Dami began, trying to help you talk through your feelings to the best of his ability.

"People who are photographed all the time don't look like I do." You whimpered, trying not to start crying again. "They have different features than me. Ones that probably show up better on camera. I doubt I'm photogenic to the point where you could get a whole shoot out of me." Dami rubbed your back soothingly, feeling every time your breath hitched as you tried to compose yourself.

"If everyone looked the same all the time, do you know how boring that would be?" He asked, though it was more rhetorical. You looked up at him, resting your head on his shoulder as he spoke. "Amore, you do not need to look like everyone else to be beautiful. You're beautiful right now." He rested his hand against your cheek, making sure you were looking at him as he spoke. "You're beautiful when you first wake up. You're beautiful when you're working, and you make that cute concentrated face where you stick your tongue out. You're beautiful when we go shopping for clothes together, and I see you sifting through the racks to find the colors and patterns you like most. You're beautiful when we watch TV together, and I glance over to see how cute you look wearing your comfiest pajamas, while you eat your favorite snacks without a care in the world." Your smile grew wider with each sentence he added. You never knew Dami noticed those things about you. You never realized what his definition of beauty was. It wasn't just about your body. It was about all the little things that made you who you are.

"I love you." You sighed, reaching up to swipe away a single tear that was making its way down Dami's cheek.

"I love you too." He replied, placing another kiss on your forehead. "And I love everything that you don't get to see when you're fully dressed." He gently tugged on the loose knot you made to keep your robe closed, pushing it open but not completely off your shoulders. You looked down, feeling a breeze from the lack of fabric, considering you were completely bare. Dami made his way downward, placing kisses across your skin.

He started at your jawline, brushing his lips from below your ear towards your chin. He continued further, stopping at the base of your neck. He contemplated leaving a hickey, but decided that now was not the time, instead opting to place a kiss directly between your collarbones. It was the very spot that the pendant of your necklace chose for its daily rest upon your torso, though now bare since you removed all your jewelry before the shoot.

Dami moved at a slow and sensual pace, leaving more invisible love marks that followed the whimsical flowing curves of your waistline. You released a deep sigh of pleasure, tilting your head back and steadying yourself by placing your hands on Damiano's shoulders. He did the same by wrapping his hands around your lower back.

He kept traveling south until he left his place beside you on the bed and knelt before you, being the perfect height to place one final kiss below your belly button, in the small patch of thin hair just above your navel. He leaned back on his haunches, his hands rubbing your thighs before lightly pushing them open, just enough for him to sit comfortably between them, resting his head against the side of your knee.

"I will worship your body exactly like this every single day until you acknowledge the fullest extent of your beauty. Your charisma is that of regal proportions, and you deserve to be treated as such, my royal companion." He recited like a Shakespearean love interest, punctuating his monologue with a wet kiss to your inner thigh. You gazed down at him, eyes droopy with tranquility, your lips parted and smiling faintly.

"You look so beautiful right now, you know that?" You purred, causing Dami to emit a lazy chuckle.

"I say the same thing every time I look at you." He returned before rising to his feet to lock his lips with yours, easing you back onto the bed. You tangled your hands in his hair, moaning softly when his fingers skimmed over the small dips in your skin just below your hip bones. You broke the kiss to stare at him, observing the wonderment in his sparkly brown eyes.

"You're amazing for saying and doing all that." You said breathlessly, dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose. Your stare hardened briefly before continuing. "But is it okay if we don't take any more photos?"

"Of course, my love." Dami responded, peppering your cheeks with fleeting kisses. "Would you like to see the ones I did take?"

You nodded sheepishly as Dami stood up to fetch his camera from the tripod, bringing it over to the bed. You sat up, resting on your elbows as he reclaimed his place beside you.

You were correct that Damiano had only managed to capture five portraits before your anxiety got the better of you, but the ones he took were a lot nicer than you thought they'd be.

They all depicted your nude form in various aspect ratios, the rich tones of your outstanding complexion blended with the hazy orange hues of the sunset, which by now had diminished into a flurry of deep blues and purples. You marveled at it, as if it were a picture of someone else. But it was definitely you. Four of the photos were from wider angles, but the other one caught your eye immediately.

It was the only photo Dami had taken of your chest up, the edge of the photo stopping just above your nipples. The resolution had captured every single detail of your face. You could see every pore dotted across your nose. Every trace of hair that swept its way across your jaw and just under your chin, though you thought you had removed all of it only days earlier. You even noticed every barely visible acne scar along your forehead and the apples of your cheeks, from all the times you picked and plucked at them wishing you had clearer skin.

Scanning the photo further, you took in the sight of your bare shoulders, broader than average for someone of your stature. It was the only feature you could say you genuinely liked, no matter what other people thought of it.

"You like this one the best?" Dami blurted out, noticing you lingering on it longer than the others.

"It's…" You tried, not sure how to preface your thoughts on it.

"Beautiful?" Dami interjected, hoping it's what you were going to say.

"It's...me." You finished. "It's the first time I've ever seen myself where what I'm looking at actually feels like me." Your gaze softened, continuing to admire the photo. "It's weird, but like a good kind of weird. I don't know how to describe it."

"I'm so happy to hear that you like it, amore." Dami said proudly, kissing your temple. "I think they all turned out wonderful."

You didn't comment, not wanting him to know that you didn't fully agree. At least, you didn't agree just yet. You thought his photography skills were excellent, but it was going to take you longer to see the beauty that he viewed them as. You may have only liked one of them, but it was a start.

"Can you frame this one?" You said so low you were even sure if you said it aloud, and if Dami heard you or not. His eyes widened, a surge of pride glistening behind them. You looked up at him, gauging his reaction, sighing in relief when he leaned in for a kiss.

"Where do you want me to hang it?" He mumbled against your lips. Twisting around, you pointed to the wall where you had stood to take the photo, a small stretch of space between the balcony doors and the edge of your bed.

"And it doesn't have to be crazy big in one of those huge swirly frames." You added with an awkward laugh. "Just a decent sized photo will do."

Dami joined your laughter with a lighthearted chuckle and a nod of acknowledgment.

"You have my word, baby." He replied softly before kissing you again, pulling you back against the bed into a warm cuddle.

And a couple days later when you entered the bedroom, there it was. A larger version of the photo you observed yesterday, donning a reserved Arch B ratio nestled beneath a clear glass pane, sealed with a mahogany wood gallery frame to match the floor. You laughed, knowing that Dami tried so hard to make it look sophisticated without breaching the confines of your request to keep things minimal. You stared at the piece as if you were visiting a museum, wrecking your brain with who the artist was and how they were able to create such a masterpiece. But the truth is, Damiano may have taken the photo, but the real artist was you. And you were quite the talent.

You wanted the portrait there to serve as a reminder. You were beautiful, you just needed time to see that in all its glory. The road to self love was not an easy one, but having Dami by your side made every cross-country road trip feel like a skip across the street. Achieving security within yourself, although an arduous task at times, is doable. When you have the right people around you to hype you up and ensure you know your worth, what you see in the mirror can feel just as magical as all the portraits in a museum.

==================================

Here it is, y'all! My first fic! ☺ Feedback is appreciated but pls be nice 😅 And also let this fic serve as a reminder that you are beautiful just the way you are 🥰

Also, let me know if I should start a taglist so that you guys can be notified when I upload more fics! I've never shared any of my work before so it makes me so happy to know you guys are interested in my stuff 🥰

#maneskin #måneskin #damiano david #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #damiano david x reader #damiano david imagine #måneskin x reader #måneskin fanfiction #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x you #damiano david fanfiction

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malina-33 · 9 months

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Femme Like You - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27 y.o.), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.

Word count: 10,2k

Warnings: swearing, emotional swing (is it even a warning?), kind of voyeurism (slight), age gap

A/N: Dear friends, hi!! I know, I know that I've promised you to update the fic every 3 weeks, and the disappeared for 1.5 months, but I spontaneously found a job, so there was very little time. But the chapter is much longer and with some interesting collaborations ;) I'll hope you enjoy them!

And write down what do you think if I make a description of not only the whole work, but also the chapter before each new part? Or is it better to keep the intrigue till the end?

In any case, I look forward to your feedback, it's soooo much important for me. I won't promise to return before the end of September, but I'll do my best not to delay. I already have an interesting plot for the next chapters, you should like it💔

*guys, English isn't my first language so if I have (and I know I have lol) any grammar/logic mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)

The first week after meeting with the group flew by unnoticed. You dealt with the documentation, understanding how necessary it is, no matter how much you hated it, phoned the representatives of Ashton Gate stadium, made sure that everything was okay and confirmed the presence of the group and even tried to check the weather since the gig would be held outside. However, it turned out to be a little more difficult with the transport company. Apparently, James forgot to warn them about the temporary removal of his duties, so you had to spend time clarifying the situation and explaining who you are. It seemed that your hands-on approach was excessive, because you were trying to control everything in one time, but only due to the feeling of extra responsibility.

Steven, as promised, sent the contacts of the guys and important people from the technical crew, so now your phone had the names of Jamie Cook, Nick O'Malley, Matthew Helders and Alex "dickhead" Turner among others. 19 years old you would definitely envy yourself. So when you got a message while cooking pasta for dinner on Saturday night, you already knew it was from the drummer and not from an anonymous online scammer.

Matthew Helders: "good evening, Miss Y/S! I hope you aren't busy. We'll wait you on the soundcheck on Monday at 2 pm in Domino, need your advice :)"

You almost overcooked Carbonara bacon rereading the message. "Do they really need my advice?" you whispered, furrowing your brows "About what?". But the only answer was:

You: "Sure! Do I need to take some 12% cider?"

Matthew Helders: "you better not show up without a package lol"

Immediately followed by:

Matthew Helders: "just kidding! We are waiting only for you, but in the company of cider it will be even better)"

You chuckled, surprised at how quickly Matt went from formal Miss at the beginning of the conversation to smiles and lols at the end. To tell the truth, you still didn't fully understand how to behave with them. On the one hand, you are their manager and have a certain influence, as well as subordination. Steven and James don't have it, although they are "higher" in position, but they've been friends for half of a life, and you are a completely new person. On the other hand, in this area there is no place for strict formalities, especially since the guys don't look like those who would comply with them. After all they were big kids no matter how mature and pretentious they could look on stage, and you clearly felt it. Maybe your company will help them to relax even more, so there won't be any awkwardness and you will naturally find an edge where all of you will feel comfortable and which no one will cross.

With those thoughts, Carbonara and Rosé you spent your Saturday night watching your favorite series "La Piovra". You got used to such calm and quiet evenings. The era of parties until the morning has passed in the university years, and it’s not that you don’t go to clubs now, it’s just that the older you become the better you began to appreciate moments of silence. Not to be bored alone with yourself is the most valuable skill that you have acquired in your life. Having lived first with your parents for a long time, then getting married early at the age of 20 and having lived with your husband for 3 years, you were essentially not left alone with yourself. Having discovered over time that you feel absolutely nothing for the person whom you said "yes" to in the registry office, you were horrified and frightened to say at least. You thought that you get married once for a lifetime, but it turned out that happy endings exist only in fairy tales. That period of despondency, depression and eventual deepening into work gave its results. Major labels began to notice you, inviting you to musical projects with famous bands such as Maneskin. You worked with them for 1.5 years, leaving after their heyday at the Eurovision, realizing that you can’t give them more. That was your second decision to leave, but unlike the divorce, it didn't bring you much suffering. You understood that you and the group gave each other a lot, and although the parting was bitter, everyone understood that it was necessary. You still remained friends with the guys and periodically wrote off to meet. You planned to go to their concert, but couldn't find the time. And after your assignment to the Monkeys it became even more harder to shedule.

After the divorce you didn't have a serious relationship, instead you had a dream job, money, a car, a country house and even a corgi Grapes. You weren't afraid of the future, loved the time in seclusion and found inner peace by meditating on the production of cider, which was your unusual but very tasty hobby. Were you fully happy, though? Wouldn't you like to cross the threshold of the house and be met not by a dog's barking, but by a warm kiss on the forehead and a quiet "how was your day"? You probably wanted to, but it was hard to admit, especially considering that the fear of intimacy sat somewhere deep inside, not letting you forget the disappointment that you experienced when you removed the engagement ring from your finger. Although you remained friends who didn't hold evil against each other, the bitterness of your marriage was almost impossible to remove from the memories.

But for now, your head has been occupied by the sudden question of where to put Grapes for the duration of the tour...

Monday morning was sunny and peaceful, you woke up in a surprisingly good mood, put on your make-up, put on your favorite lime flared jeans, loaded a case of apple drink from the basemеnt into the car, patted Grapes and drove off to the studio. The road took about an hour, so during this time you managed to phone your father. You haven't talked much lately due to your workload, and now was almost the only time of the day when you were relatively free. You put the speaker phone mode, listening to the slightly hoarse voice of the man, without being distracted from the road.

"Hello my dear! How are you?"

"Hi daddy, I'm fine, going to work right now"

"My busy bee, James has already told me about your progress" you could hear him chuckle, coughing a little. You could only guess what Ford said to your father, because you spoke to him only once in these 2 weeks, when you recalled him after meeting with the group. And not that your story was very colorful. Therefore, the guys or Steven contacted him, and from this point of view, you couldn't imagine what they possibly come up with towards you.

"He assured me the boys liked you"

"Oh, really?" you said on the exhale, squeezing your hands on the steering wheel tightly.

"Yes, James is pleased with you. Well done, babe!" you melted under his words. It felt like you were a little girl again who drew a family picture that was hung on the refrigerator, even though mom and dad looked like monsters.

"Thank you daddy, I'm very happy to be with them actually"

"Of course, in such a company of men. Should I be jealous? 'Cause I looked through their photos on the Internet" dad said proudly, to which you burst out laughing, stopping at a traffic light.

"Dad, c'mon, no! They're too old for me" you laughed.

"10 years are not a big deal. Anyway, your choice. Just don't forget to eat please, I know how tough you work now. Otherwise you'll get drunk on your cider. God, how did you even manage to get into this alcohol sphere..." the man groaned in prostration. You rolled your eyes, but still smiled without answering. You got used to your father's fast flow of different thoughts.

"And don't roll your eyes, little naughty one! I care about you. So if they hurt you, you know who to call, right?"

"Oi, who will offend whom first" you retorted defiantly.

"Okay okay, I won't interrupt anymore. Kiss Grapes for me. I love you"

"And I love you very much, hello mom"

"I'll pass it on, bye!"

You turned off the call, fully focusing on the road. After talking with your parents, you always felt warm in your soul, so up to the studio you didn't leave a smile when you sang songs from the radio under your breath.

You arrived exactly at 2 o'clock, as agreed with Matt, but when you saw a few more cars in the parking lot in addition to the familiar Cadillac, you realized that the guys had been here for a long time. You must have looked a little ridiculous in a business suit and heels and a wooden box under your arm, but you didn't have other choice. Holding the car key in your mouth and trying to press the button at the same time, you clumsily closed the trunk with your leg. A purse was still dangling somewhere on your shoulder, and sunglasses had slipped from head to the bridge of your nose. "Must be an amazing picture to observe" you thought tiredly "Oh, if only Matt were here".

But before you had time to think about it, you heard a soft laugh behind you. You turned around sharply, noticing the frontman smoking alone near the entrance. You spat the key into the box, finally pressing the right button, and shouted

"And how long do you look?"

"I came exactly at the most interesting moment" man smiled, taking a puff.

You heavily crossed the entire parking lot, approaching him. Turner, having finished smoking a cigarette and throwing it into a nearby trash can, silently took the box from your hands.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted you wheezing nicotine in the lungs.

"Hi," you frowened a little, but slowly added "Alex".

Calling him by his first name was... Unusual. A week ago the appeal to him was exclusively Mr. Turner, but today he was the first to break this line. "Well, apparently, we will both have problems with the boundaries of what is acceptable" bitterly flashed through your thoughts.

You both entered the building - Alex with a box in front, you behind holding the door. The way was silent. You wanted to say something to break this crystal quietness of his, but by the time you mustered up the courage, you stopped at the door 13A. The vocalist pushed it with his left shoulder, squeezing the alcohol forward, and you trotted along.

As soon as you and Alex entered the sound studio, you were immediately greeted with whistling and loud hooting.

"Look who's here, Miss Y/N"

"Hi, guys! I'm here with gifts as promised" you smiled broadly.

Alex at this time put the box on the table and immediately took one bottle for himself.

You noticed that there were Tyler and Tom in the studio as well, so you mentally praised yourself for taking bottles with a margin. You didn't know them personally yet, but was willing to change it. Turner introduced you to the men, and surprisingly you didn't hear his usual sneer in the voice.

"So, welcome Y/N Y/S, she's our manager for the summer before America starts and James gets back"

"Happy to finally meet you!" you were the first to extend your hand to Tyler, which he shook gently, smiling affably, and then to Tom. But he intercepted your hand, kissing your knuckles and making you laugh.

"Mutually, Miss" Rowley said enchanted.

"And she makes her own awesome cider, get one" Matt ordered businesslike, raising his voice from behind the drum kit.

"Yeah, there is enough for everyone, don't hesitate to take"

Evidently you arrived during the break, and before that they had already rehearsed a bit. You were wondering what kind of advice they need from you. The thought that they just needed cider you pushed back with a grin. But Alex, as if reading your thoughts, leisurely started speaking leaning on the table and holding a drink.

"Well, thanks for the cider, but that's not what we called you for. Since you're such a big fan of My Propeller, we discussed it here and decided that it's possible to put one on the set list for a couple of times. So listen to how it sounds, maybe have some ideas or whatevah" he was trying to sound casual, not attaching importance to his words for you.

"I'll do my best!" you almost jumped from such news.

Jamie chuckled audibly, running his fingers over the guitar. You sat down on the couch as Matt tapped the rhythm with his sticks and the melody began.

Seductive. The first association that came to your mind when you heard the intro of this song. It was your favorite from Humbug for sure and one of the band's all time favorites. Alex never told in any interview what was the secret of the lyrics, and probably that was the reason it attracted you even more. The guys played it selflessly, as if there hadn't been those decades that they hadn't performed it. You liked how they gave themselves to the process, even if it was just a rehearsal. They were in simple t-shirts and Matt was proudly wearing pineapple shorts, but you could swear, a real concert was unfolding right in front of you.

When Alex started singing you tried to hide the goosebumps as best as you could, but it hardly worked out well. His voice flowed melodically, not betraying a hint of wheezing or breaking, which could arise due to the age. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the microphone stand, and moved his feet to the beat, slightly ridiculous, but at the same time gracefully. Throughout the song, you didn’t take your eyes off the group for a minute, sometimes singing along to the words, pulling the last syllable of

Coax me out my law

And have a spin of my propeller

When the song ended, you clapped and Nick even made a mock bow.

“I don’t know how objective my assessment will be, because apart from the words of delight I have nothing to add” you honestly admitted. It seemed to you that you heard Alex's quiet "As I said", but Matt was quick to interrupt him asking you "Actually, we have already decided to play it in Bristol, but the question is where to chip in. We'll definitely not start with this one, and the outro is already completed, so..."

You thought a little, trying to understand what motives My Propeller reminds you of, and then the penny dropped.

"Pretty Visitors!" you exclaimed louder than you should have because your words echoed through the silent studio.

"Smooth interlude from Pretty Visitors, yeah, not bad actually" Alex quickly developed your idea, turning to Matt, as if asking "Do you mind?", but the drummer only closed his eyes approvingly. It seemed that they didn't need any words at all, they could understand each other with guitar riffs and drum brakes. Their connection, it was amazing, honed to automatism for past 20 years. They were like scientists in a chemistry lab mixing potions together in an attempt to make a new elixir. It was magic to come true and watching this process was so intimate that you involuntarily felt the heat on your cheeks, as if you were engaged in voyeurism.

***

The hours in the studio flew by. Fortunately for you, the guys decided to surprise fans with the return of Mardy Bum which will be the opener. The exact setlist for Bristol was confirmed at the end of the rehearsal, bringing back Teddy Picker and The View From The Afternoon as well. So looking at the perfect 21 songs, you could only imagine what they would save for London. Originally you were going to visit their concert in your hometown, you bought tickets as soon as sales were announced, but after James's call you easily gave the ticket to a friend, saying that you had won a jackpot.

Tom and Tyler have already left and the five of you are left. You were sitting on a soft chair, moved from the corner of the room, and the guys opposite on the sofas. The boys had laid down their guitars and you were leding a peaceful conversation about life, since the studio rental time ended only in an hour. You told them about your career in the industry, Maneskin and the part time projects you've been working on lately, omitting the details of your divorce because you thought it was too early for them to immerse themselves in such personal aspects of your life.

"By the way, Vic is your big fan and Alex in particular" you giggled, remembering the way drunk Maneskin bassist told you that she would like to sleep with Turner. Those were the carefree times of your youth you warmly remembered.

"Really?" Matt raised his eyebrows as he sipped his seemingly endless bottle of cider "You still have their contacts, right?"

"Yeah, sure, we even text each other occasionally" you quipped.

"And you didn't say you were working with us?" Heldres was surprised.

"Actually, somehow it didn't seem possible" you lowered your gaze, "I mean what would it look like? "Hey guys, look who's here, I now manage the Monkeys btw?" - so what?"

You could tell by the Cheshire smile on Matt's bristly face that this was exactly how he thought.

"Oh no, Matthew, don't you-"

"Oh yes, darling, dial FaceTime, you'll show them our doll" the man neighed, turning to Alex, who had been sitting quietly on the couch until this moment, and fidgeted in place after the suggestion.

"For God's sake, Matt, what a kindergarten behavior" the vocalist howled irritably, rolling his eyes, "I don't even remember their names".

The idea of making fun of Turner a little for the morning case with the box and taking revenge seemed to you unexpectedly delightful. Your hand automatically sank into your pants pocket, deftly pulling it out into the light and finding the right WhatsApp chat.

"Don't worry, you just have to say hi to Vic, I'm sure you'll be fine" you sang sweetly, glancing slyly at Matt, who chuckled approvingly, glad that you supported his idea.

Alex only cursed at this and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. Either from nerves, or putting his hair in order before the call.

You moved from your seat to the couch between Alex and Matt, gesturing for Nick and Jamie to join. You put your hand in front of you so only your face was visible in the camera frame, waiting for one of the guys to take the call. It might have been a little ill-advised to call like this without warning on a workday evening, but anyway it was already too late, as the beeps trailed in a string of sounds. You hoped that they didn't have a concert today, in any other case, one of them would definitely pick up the phone from you. And by a happy coincidence, it was Vic who ended up on your screen.

"What the hell, Miss Boogie, are you really occasionally calling after all this time of silence?" despite Victoria de Angelis's accusatory words, she sounded playful. She was a little disheveled and with a bright blush on her face. People were walking randomly with the string interruptions in the background. Apparently, the guys were at the soundcheck at one of the venues, and Vic recently finished playing.

Four pairs of eyes openly stared at you with undisguised interest after hearing the nickname, demanding an answer, but you just mouthed "later".

"Awww, sweetheart, and I'm happy to hear you again too!" you said with an ironic smile.

"I have a lot of news for you, and I will definitely call you in private soon"

"Are you not alone? Who's with you?" the girl even moved closer to the camera in an attempt to see something.

"Well, I have a little surprise for you. Actually four surprises, but one of them you'll find really special" you said conspiratorially, looking around at the guys who were still out of the picture. Alex sat to your right, trying to portray the most distant look, as if everything that was happening was nothing more than baby talk for him.

"Darling, if you have a group orgy without me, then I will be offended and drop the call" the bassist said threateningly, wiping her forehead with a towel that was hung on her shoulder.

You just burst out laughing "Ok ok, I'm not languishing you anymore. I hope you're ready. Boys, say hi to Vics" and you finally moved the camera further so that Matt, Nick and Jamie, who were sitting to your left, got into the camera frame, Alex's appearance you saved for a dessert.

The musician's reaction exceeded all your expectations. At first she narrowed her eyes, bringing the phone even closer to face, and then she widened them with a loud squeal, jumping up from her seat.

"What the hell, Y/N! What the actual fuck, you're a shitty mutherfucker!!!" she covered her mouth with her hand, chaotically moving the phone in different directions. Apparently, other members of the group came running to her scream, as you heard the voice of Damiano asking what happened.

"What happened?" she repeated "The fucking Arctic Monkeys are sitting next to Y/N!" answering a question off-camera and stabilizing the phone. Now you could clearly see the vocalist leaning over her shoulder, Thomas to the side and Ethan slightly behind.

Finally, the men next to you decided to introduce themselves "Hey, guys, what's new?" Matt said smiling to the camera, Jamie and Nick just waved their hands in a friendly manner.

"Oh my God, what's going on" Vic, still dumbfounded, spoke with a face of complete amazement. Damiano, who quickly figured out the whole situation and realized that Vic was unlikely to be able to communicate normally now, carefully took the phone from her hands.

"Hi, Y/N, long time no see! Hi, boys, how fresh you are" the frontman winked. The words "for your age" were suggested mutely, but David left them behind the scenes. The men next to you just laughed quietly at this remark and saluted the Italian boy.

"Vic, that's not all yet, look who's next to me" wanting to finally finish off your friend, you moved the camera to the side, revealing Alex's presence, who was already sitting with a polite smile on his face, leaning on the sofa armrest.

"Hi, love" Turner murmured hoarsely, turning on his usual charisma. You were surprised how quickly he went from "fuck off everyone" to his stage persona. Indeed, a skill acquired over the years.

De Angelis, after looking at the camera for just a second, squealed even harder than the first time, which you even grimaced a little, because in a quiet studio it sounded deafening.

The camera was still held by Damiano, but the girl in the frame could be seen doubled over, holding back cries of happiness. Her guys just laughed out loud at this, knowing full well what a strong fan of Alex she was.

"Y/N, I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll strap your ass so you can't sit still for another week, what are you doing to me?" Vic didn't let go of expressions, which made the men next to you shamelessly laugh, even Turner smiled predatoryly.

"Holy shit, you're real" the girl muttered in one breath.

Her adoration entertained Alex. Celebrities fangirling celebrities wasn't an unknown story for Alex, so the way Vic behaved didn't annoy him, but brought a feeling of sincere pleasure from what was happening.

"It would be strange if I wasn't, mhm?" the man grunted, changing the position - now he rested elbows on his knees, bringing the face closer to your phone. You could smell his light apple scent from the cider you both drank and the cigarette halo that soaked into all of the frontman's clothes.

Damiano finally decided to take control over the situation by turning the camera completely on himself.

"So, Y/N, if you wanted to surprise Vic, then you succeeded 100%! But we are now at soundcheck, and we don't have much time, and she" nodding towards the bassist "still needs to be brought to her senses. We were extremely happy to hear from you, babe. Call us when you are free and tell us everything in detail. Miss you very much!"

"Guys, me too! Love ya, see you at Glasto!"

"Wait! Take a screenshot!" Vic's desperate exclamation came from Damiano's left side.

He made a focused face, looking for the right buttons, while you and the men simultaneously smiled at the camera.

"Send it to the chat" you asked, ending the call and blowing a virtual kiss. You obviously cut off Vic's "I love you" without being entirely sure it was addressed to you.

The studio immediately froze in deafening silence. You put your phone down on the coffee table, still smiling.

"That was a real buzz, they're cute" Matt said leaning back on the couch. The mood of the guys clearly improved by this little conversation. You were glad that you could somehow diversify their evening after a productive and exhausting day. Even Alex stopped keeping his always compressed lips and frowning eyebrows.

"So, Miss Boogie, right?" Jamie began slyly, reminding you of your infamous nickname.

An approving "ooooo" reverberated around the room, from which you hid behind your palms.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget" you muttered from your hiding place.

"C'mon, we're intrigued already" Nick reached out to you through Matt, gently taking your hands away from your face.

Jamie suddenly started chanting your name, encouraging you to reveal this terrible secret, and Matt whistled as if Sheffield FC had just scored a goal.

"God, okay, just shut up please" you gave up.

The four men took more comfortable positions in anticipation of your story.

"In fact, there is nothing special in this story, it's just stupid. When Maneskin was approved for Eurovision, we went to celebrate, how can we not. It was in Milan. We got very drunk in a bar and went for a walk around the city. It was about 3 in the morning, and to entertain ourselves we played Truth or Dare. The most banal thing that could be, but nothing better came to mind. And I chose Dare, 'cause everyone else only cowardly told their secrets. So Vic asked me to dance for a minute on the street to any song that a passerby would name. Well, since at such time you are unlikely to meet any adequate passerby, we only found a beggar in the square. I don’t know how old he was, but the first song that he remembered was Boogie Wonderland" at this point you made a dramatic pause, "so yes, I had to dance to this song at night in front of other poor people who came up to us. Since then they call me Miss Boogie. Everyone is satisfied now, having fun, huh?"

You intentionally crossed your arms in insult, surreptitiously watching the laughing band.

"I bet there's a video" Matt said cheekily.

"Yes, there is, but you'll never see it!" you retorted quickly, glaring at the drummer.

"Your hot cheeks make me want to see this video even more" Nick teased tapping Matt on the shoulder.

"You know what," Alex suddenly announced, "choose any song you want. We play it, and you show the video"

You could swear your jaw was somewhere on the floor.

"Woah, did you decide to go all-in?" Matt asked, also not expecting such a generous offer "Be careful, otherwise you will have to play a Taylor Swift song"

"Ouch, why do you think I like her?"

"Who doesn't like her?"

"Your truth" you nodded approvingly.

"I meant our song. We'll perform it at the concert" Turner interrupted your dialogue, looking at you testily from under his eyelashes.

There was a slight silence, which you broke with a heavy sigh.

"Wow, okay, this is getting interesting" you muttered, leaning back on the couch like Helders had done earlier. The three men to your left looked at each other in surprise, waiting for an answer, while you've been thinking, looking at the frontman.

"Certain Romance," you easily stated, "I want this one"

"Your wish is my command, Miss Boogie," he joked without any hint of smile, standing up "you guys remember how to play it, don't you?"

The guys looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to find words for such a drastic change in the behavior of the vocalist, but after a discordant series of affirmative nods, they received a condescending smile from him.

"Well, that's great, there's still time to rehearse. I propose Sheffield!" Alex said solemnly, thrusting his hands into the pockets.

"Al, ru ok?" Matt raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"All right, man" Turner said artificially.

"This house is a circus indeed" swirled through your head. Alex's behavior was defiant. Emerging into conflict. Literally a minute ago everything was peace and quiet, and now he, like a proud peacock, was arranging a show for you at the level of a cheap soap opera.

"No, but seriously, let's even organize a lottery, since Y/N has such an influence on the setlist" Alex didn't let up.

"Come on, pipe down, you suggested it yourself" Nick intervened carefully, not wanting to stir up the smoldering coals of the conflict.

"And I think all of you are into this idea, aren't you?" Turner didn't raise his low, heavily accented baritone, but the underlying toxicity in his tone was evident, "oh, even better, let's ask our Italian friends for advice! Let's get their opinion and her video as well".

"Alexander, smoke?" you stood up decisively from the couch, grabbing your purse and phlegmatically glancing at the wooden cider box you'd probably have to leave in the studio. But you couldn’t leave the guys in such an atmosphere, so out of courtesy you promised to return again.

"Y/N, no problem, see you before Bristol! Send the screen to our group, 'cause I'm getting jealous for these Italians" Matt gave you an encouraging wink in the end, and you certainly promised to do it tonight.

"They'll kill each other"

"He doesn't stand a chance"

Jamie and Matt said at the same time as the door closed behind you.

Alex imposingly walked ahead, not hurrying anywhere. He politely said goodbye to the security guard, noting that the rental period had already come to an end. Almost bowing, he opened the door to the street for you, artificially gallantly holding it with his hand, still making a show from every gesture, which for some reason made you feel disgusted. You were counting on working with middle-aged men, accomplished musicians, but it feels like you are talking to teenagers.

Damp cold air from the river hit your red cheeks, which made you wrap yourself in a jacket more tightly. Alex took out a pack of Marlboro, offering you one, but nodding to himself, removed it, remembering your words a week ago practically at the same place.

"Well?" he said with a cigarette in his mouth, lighting the filter.

The sky was overcast with a milky haze of fog, which wasn't uncommon for these places, a weak wind was blowing, but not a single sound from the road was heard, which made you hear sparks from ignited tobacco hiss like champagne bubbles, falling on the asphalt.

Alex exhaled noisily, squinting at you with his eyes. His face was faintly lit by the flame of a cigarette, but even in such low light, it was noticeable that his gaze was completely blank. "Amazingly indifferent and deep eyes at the same time. It's impossible to tell anything from them" you thought. Or maybe he was like this only with unpleasant people to him, who you apparently were. You can’t even imagine the way these eyes changed on stage "Where are you real, Alexander?". But instead of asking this, you just threw your head back, tiredly closing your eyelids, showing with your whole appearance how absurd the situation is.

"Alex," there wasn't any visible point to call him Mr. Turner even though you were annoyed "I thought we made a deal, didn't we?"

"Really? When?" his voice sounded even more affected than in the studio, despite the fact that now the man spoke rather quietly and slowly. Or maybe even a whisper would be loud in this ringing silence.

"I just don't understand what the problem is" you continued, as if you didn't hear his words.

"I don't see it either, Miss Y/S"

You raised your eyebrows high as you asked a silent question, which made Alex smirk slightly. Taking a puff, he began to explain to you with the intonation of a parent teaching a child not to put his fingers in the socket.

"Listen, I won't hide it, you brought some chaos to our tour. This is different from your direct duties though - to solve all the problems on our way. But you're a stranger who stirred up our peace and foundation. I was initially against this idea, but James left me no choice. You are undoubtedly an educated young lady, and probably from a moral point of view, I sound like a scoundrel now-"

"You sound unprofessional, Alex. You only make me feel contempt, and I don't care about any moral side"

The frontman looked at you from under his brows, taking out a second cigarette in a row from the pack, waiting for a further reaction, but inside you was a frozen magma that didn't want to break out, muffled by self-esteem. For now.

His words contradicted his behavior. In the morning he carries your boxes and asks for a song advice, and in the evening he gives out this shit. If women's logic is ridiculed by society, then men do not have it at all.

“You know what, when James offered me this job, I was damn excited and proud that I would be working with a team like yours. I was on a cloud nine. But you, Alex, you're just a spoiled boy in the body of a 37-year-old man who hasn't overplayed his ambitions and thinks that his subtle nature is so fragile to understand that you need to hide behind the facade of an asshole so that normal people with good intentions don't crawl into your soul. You are cowardly and arrogant!"

You were breathing heavily, and the words "fool fool fool" stretched on repeat in a red line behind your eyes.

You didn't even understand how they escaped from your lips, absolutely thoughtlessly. You even instinctively wanted to raise a hand to cover your mouth, but pulled yourself back in time, deciding to play to the end. Show after show.

Alex hadn't raised a cigarette to his face during your tirade, so that the wick was almost dead in his fingers. You intensively looked at each other without stopping, and at some point it seemed to you that fear flashed in his pupils. Fear of the revealed truth. However, they were covered with a thick veil of indifference to what was happening in a second, and he finally took the last puff, throwing the butt right on the road.

"Miss Y/S, it seems that you have to go" the musician said unemotionally.

You took one last burning look at his features and, without saying a word, turned around towards your car. How ironic, a week ago you left each other in roughly the same sequence of activities - studio, cider, parking lot, but under completely different circumstances.

Slamming the door shut, you sharply revved, not bothering to warm up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot with a clang of tires. Burning tears of resentment gushed from your eyes, covering the already foggy road in front, but you didn't pay attention.

Your cooperation has just begun, and you have already swept on an emotional swing. Only in the morning you were driving in a car towards the sun and rejoicing at the warm words of your dad, and in the evening you return home, wiping the salty paths with the back of your hand from your face.

You were never embarrassed by tears, you cried out almost all of them during a divorce, but if they dripped from your eyes today, then there was a reason for that. Your parents taught you that after rain there is always a rainbow, after tears there is always peace of mind, you need to be able to live through any emotions in order to turn them into your power later.

***

You haven't seen the boys since that evening until today's early departure for Bristol. Of course, you communicated on all sorts of organizational issues during this time and there was no visible tension, especially since they didn't hear about your quarrel with Alex. You were more than sure that he would not tell his friends about that incident. This is what infringes on him, and therefore makes him weaker, which he couldn't allow.

All these days you have wondered what was the reason for such a sharp behavior, however you couldn't really delve into yourself. Why exactly you were crying - from resentment, overstrain or just an emotional outburst, it was also difficult to understand. Perhaps all together. Over the past month, from your first conversation with Ford to recent events, your life has changed 180 degrees, so it's no surprise that your psyche gave a little glitch.

You've comforted yourself with routines though — setting Grapes up with a friend until your next visit to London, inviting your parents over for dinner to tell you all the details, packing your suitcase for the tour, checking out all the technical stuff, and almost forgetting what kind of adventure you're packing for.

And now, without any idea of the nearest future, you were sitting in a black Mercedes Sprinter between Marcus and James Kerr, Ben was in the passenger seat in front, Steven was riding with the group in the bus. It was only 8 am, you were sleepy, only at the last moment you didn’t forget to remove eye patches before going out, you didn’t even put on makeup, so you sat in the wide sunglasses, even though the sun wasn't visible through the tinted windows of the car.

It seemed that everyone was relaxed, easily communicated with each other and knew exactly what each would do upon arrival at the venue. Unlike you. The schedule was pretty clear - check-in at the hotel, lunch, departure for the soundcheck and then free time for the management and the band, but very busy time for the technicians. Of all this, the most sensible thing was to drink plenty of wine at dinner and walk around the rest of the day in a relaxed state of mind, but those were only pitiful thoughts of creeping fear. Deep inside you were sure that everything would be fine, it couldn’t be otherwise, because even if you didn’t know how to do this or that task, the guys knew their duties, and they physically couldn’t play the concert badly.

"Hey, Y/N, you kinda took working with us too seriously" Marcus snapped you out of your thoughts with his mocking tone.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, turning to him.

He touched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and chuckled. It took you another couple of seconds to figure out what he meant, so he took advantage of your confusion to explain "you now going to wear glasses in the dark as well?"

The reference to Alex was read transparently, so you imperceptibly flinched and pointedly removed them, as if not wanting to be associated with him at all.

"No, no, I just didn't have time to do my make up" you honestly admitted, shrugging your shoulders ingenuously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we-" the guy looked around at all the passengers, "we don't understand this here"

You laughed slightly, at the same time relaxing, and asked him a question that had been of interest to you for a long time.

"Why don't you have women in the team? I mean at all"

Instead of Marcus, Ben decided to answer from the front seat, apparently as the eldest among you.

“It didn’t happen on purpose, but later it became kind of unspoken rule. We are here like on the fishing, you know? We leave our wives, spend time within our male company, it’s like an alternative branch of your life, you do quality work here, you feel needed, while no one owe you nothing and you feel absolutely free in your actions, understanding thoroughly those who are around you"

"Are you aware that this is how a normal team should work, regardless of gender? It sounds somehow sexist. Am I really embarrassing you in actions?" you smiled slyly, anticipating the denouement.

"Actually, besides you, we have 3 other women in the team.." Marcus embarrassingly chipped in.

"Guys, don't bother yourself with excuses, I knew who I was messing with" you laughed, crossing your legs. Marcus looked at you dumbfounded, but said nothing, and James just chuckled softly at the window.

"Well, if you knew that, then you also should know about our tradition, right, guys?" Ben began in a conspiratorial tone, exchanging glances with the guys.

"Um, about what?" you arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"The newbie is signed up for the after-party. Tonight is your first concert, and after that we go to the bar, the drinks are off you! We're equal here" Ben imperturbably continued to scan your reaction with a fox-eye, waiting for an answer. It's not that you're greedy or unable to pay, but to buy drinks for the whole team...

And as if ahead of your question, the man added "enough management and the band".

As if it changed the essence. But you couldn't refuse, so you mumbled something affirmative, getting a roar of male hoarse laughter in response, and starting to laugh at yourself. You appreciated in people, especially males, this ability - to make a woman laugh. In a time of constant change and stress, finding someone who will make you forget about it was very important.

The rest of the road was spent in the same good mood, and these conversations did help you to forget about your anxiety due to upcoming events. Upon arrival, all the management team and the band settled in the hotel. As James promise, you've been given a private suite overlooking the most beautiful park in the city center. But due to an unknown coincidence, you lived not on the same floor with the attendants, but through the door from the group.

Matt carried your things to your room and you agreed to meet for lunch in 20 minutes.

Since you were able to miraculously did a make up even in the car, thanks to the sensitive driving, now you decided to change into more presentable clothes in which you will be at the concert.

Without changing the habit of choosing clothes carefully and for a long time, you took off your hot sweatshirt, remaining in only sweatpants and starting to go through the whole suitcase in search of those things that would match your mood. You had a couple of looks planned, but today's unexpectedly warm weather changed your plans a little, so you confidently took out a black leather skirt and a white blouse.

A piece of matter fit all your forms perfectly, so you were satisfied with the choice, spinning in front of the mirror by the bed. The black bodice harmonized perfectly with the skirt, and the crazy idea of staying only in it, without putting on anything, flashed through your head like a bullet, but flew out just as quickly as soon as you heard the muffled thud of heels on the carpet outside the door and a muttered "Jamie?" at your door followed by a knock. You hysterically shouted "No!" exactly at the moment when the door opened without a click.

"Shit, Y/N!" Alex, not having time to properly enter your room, but having clearly noticed you in a compromising way, abruptly recoiled, remaining in the corridor, but not completely closing the door so that he could hear you, but not see.

"God! What a mess" you pleaded, rushing to the door. You stuck out only your head, meeting the eyes of the musician, who was discomposedly staring at you point-blank.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Why are you naked?"

You asked at the same time, shouting over each other.

"This is my room! And I'm not naked!"

"Where's Jamie? I thought he was at 312" Turner asked, a little bewildered, clearly embarrassed.

"I have no idea where Jamie is. How did you even get in?" you were still half-dressed, hiding most of your body behind a wooden door.

"I knocked, but it turned out that it was not slammed at all"

"What the fuck? Maybe Matt didn't close when he left," you muttered more to yourself. You clearly saw the question “What did Matt do here?” that arose in Alex’s head, but which he never voiced. Clearly realizing that the dialogue could not be continued in this form, you abruptly switched the subject, trying to tear his eyes from your neck.

"I was changing for dinner anyway, so see you there" you sharply slammed the door in front of him, not wanting to go into details, and tiredly leaned your head against the wooden surface from the inside.

"Crazy" you heard quiet along with receding soft steps.

It was your only meaningful conversation with the singer, since that evening. You understood that it couldn’t go on like this for a long time, but at the moment you didn’t have any ideas how to fix the situation. So you just finally put on the look you chose, after checking that the door was locked, then decided to add a black headband, and being satisfied with your appearance, went downstairs.

After lunch, the whole team went to the stadium, where the technicians had already set up half of the equipment. The guys immediately went to the sound check, and you and Steven went to meet Ashton Gate management. It seemed like there was still plenty of time before the concert, and you thought you would have a few more chances to double-check everything, but in the turmoil that was going on behind the scenes, this turned out to be impossible.

To be honest, you were overwhelmed by what was happening. The soft music, people around, the sun rays moving towards the sunset - this whole scene that was unfolding before you as you unexpectedly stepped onto the empty stage a few minutes before the crowd was let into the stadium looked surreal and incredibly familiar, as if you had been here many times before. The noise and chaos behind you contrasted with the tranquility in front of your eyes. The empty space that was about to be filled with a crowd in just a few minutes brought both excitement and serenity. These were the moments that seemed unreal, but made life worth living.

***

The show was about to start, and you stood next to the dark staircase, where the guys from the dressing room were soon to come up. Leaning on the railing, you nervously twirled a lock of hair around your finger. You went through all the items on the checklist in your head, checking off each one mentally, but something still bothered you.

Alex.

Your unfinished conversations and evasive behavior were weighing on you. You felt guilty, knowing that as his manager, you had behaved tactlessly, driven by emotions. It ate at you from the inside. You decided that you would talk to him today, apologize and put this issue to rest once and for all.

Suddenly you noticed a flickering light from the security, which meant that the group is entering the stage, and you turned sharply, both wanting and fearing to see them. As always, looking luxurious, these four men made their way up to the platform, remaining unnoticed by the audience.

"Good luck, guys! I'm buzzing as hell honestly" you tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled on the last word.

"Miss Y/S, is it just me or are you worried about us?" Nick lightly touched your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"Well, it's my first time with you" realizing how ambiguous that sounded, you interrupted yourself with a laugh.

"Oh, you'll love it, babe" Matt mimicked a voice from a cheap adult movie, tossing a stick in the air. It seemed like he could find the right words in any situation, and in the future, you would highly appreciate this skill.

All this time, you were glancing at Alex out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his emotions, but he calmly adjusted the folds on his unchanging dark blue jacket and stretched his neck with turns left and right. Seeing that the guys had moved a little away from you, you looked at your watch, estimating that you had 5 minutes maximum, and whispered to yourself "now or never".

"Alex!" you called him out loudly, trying to outshout the crowd "I wanted to talk, I know it's not the most appropriate time, but-"

"Y/N, forgive me, okay," the man unexpectedly began, barely approaching you. For the first time, you saw genuine excitement in his eyes, here, in the darkness of the backstage area of a 30,000-seat stadium. For some reason, only now you clearly feel the difference in height between you two. He looked down at you patronizingly. Maybe it was because of his heels or the knot of nerves in your stomach that made you feel so small in your attempt to hide from his penetrating gaze.

"I've been a complete jerk and acted childish from the very beginning. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. I don't want our tension to affect the group and our work in any way, so I admit my guilt"

You stood in shock, slightly opening your mouth. You absolutely did not expect such a turn of events, so your entire improvised speech evaporated from your mind instantly. He suddenly smiled softly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking 'well, what now?' Still not believing what you heard, you nodded your head almost automatically.

"Y-yes, you were a jerk indeed. But I also didn't behave entirely correctly, my first impression wasn't great either," you sighed in frustration, recalling your memories, "I suggest we start over, huh? Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm your new tour manager, nice to meet you" and to confirm your words, you gracefully extended your hand to him.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Alex Turner, sort of singing here," he shook your hand with an energetic movement. His palm was dry and steady, causing a pleasant warmth throughout your body, "just business then?"

"Just business indeed. And a little bit of music" you said, more relaxed, smiling with all 32 teeth, still holding onto his hand.

"Deal, Miss Y/S"

For a moment, the roar of fans faded away for you, and you only saw the outlines of his pupils in the semi-darkness and his fingers firmly holding yours. However, your fragile moment was promptly ruined by-

"Al, c'mon!" Jamie impatiently called, and your hand felt the gusts of wind instead of calloused skin of the frontman. You watched him walk away in his waddle manner, as he suddenly turned and shouted, winking "By the way, nice lace".

It took you a couple of seconds to understand what was said, and when the meaning of his words reached you, you exclaimed in indignation "You, motherfucker!" almost stomping your foot, but your cry was lost in the wild roar of the crowd, as the guys were already on stage.

It was a miraculous sight. Four men made people go into ecstasy just with their appearance - this is the phenomenon of the Beatles, and they were proof that rock and roll is alive. As long as they are alive. Every strum on the guitar strings, every touch of the lips to the microphone, every drumstick strike, every hair flip was special in their performance, they themselves were special.

You were fascinated, to say the least. When the performance came to the last song before the encore, Body Paint, one of your favorite songs from the album, that was definitely made to be played live, you were out of words. The whole song built you up to the climax, to the outro that every time was a pure jamming and improvisation. And you literally exploded in ecstasy when Alex started walking around the stage, unable to stand still from the knocking down energy. He closed his eyes in languor, biting his lips, screaming, throwing out his arms, and you couldn't take your eyes off. You weren't dancing or jumping, you were inseparably watching his every movement, arms folded across your chest. Your mouth was agape against your will, and your eyes eagerly punched a hole in the frontman. This is a unique performance, it's something that is hard to explain without feeling it for yourself. You were made up of his music, you literally felt these waves inside your veins, your brain wasn't able to comprehend what was happening, it was like a catharsis for all of you. And you definitely didn't want to be saved.

Suddenly Alex turned his head to your side, continuing to play some divine riff outlining the Van Gogh fields on the guitar strings. His hair was tousled, shirt unbuttoned, but his jacket fitted perfectly. He rested his eyes on your figure, smiling with one corner of his lips, and you looked at each other for good seven seconds which felt like eternity. You were sure that everything was clear in your eyes, and even if he stood next to you and heard you, you wouldn't be able to utter a word.

What you definitely didn't expect when your eye contact was broken and Alex walked to another side of the stage, that tears would involuntarily flow from your eyes. "What the hell..." you wondered aloud, quickly removing the salty tracks from your cheeks. In fact, you perfectly understood why you were crying. From a sense of greatness. The greatness of music, human synergy and the power of unity. It was too much for you, too strong emotions to bear. It was excellent, it was the taste of life, thanks to which you still were here. "God, if you exist, bless this band, they are saints" although it sounded ridiculous and naive, you seriously were ready to pray for the talent of these guys, for the ability to make other people feel alive. You were in your place, you did everything right, you were cruising the victory. Today he convinced you.

As soon as the last chords of "RU Mine?" were played and the bows to the fans were taken, the men disappeared from the deafening roar behind the dark curtains of backstage. Their hair stuck to their sweat faces, and a distinct masculine smell was coming from their shirts. The guys passed by you with exhausted smiles, unable to utter a word from fatigue, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.

You didn't know what to do right now. According to your understanding, your job didn't end with pre-concert organization, there were also post-concert tasks to be done. But you were so lost in emotions that you felt like you were drifting away from an anaphylactic shock.

Unexpectedly, Tyler came to you as he was the last one to come off the stage. He fraternally put a hand on your shoulder, tousling your hair with his heavy palm.

"Well, with the initiation into our hell, sweetheart. How're you?"

"Thrilled, and I want more!" you declared confidently, matching his quick pace that was pulling you further away from the frenzy of the crowd.

"Well, don't doubt that, it's just the beginning" he charmingly smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror his expression.

"Now we're going to celebrate, and you're coming with us" it sounded so authoritative that even if you wanted to object, you immediately closed your mouth, nodding in agreement. "Besides, seems like you need to unwind" you remembered.

You left the stadium only an hour later, apparently, it was a normal time for the guys to "recover". You'd made several jokes about one woman waiting for seven men and received offended and teasing looks in return. You got into the same Mercedes you arrived in that morning, and the driver took you to one of Bristol's typical English pubs that the guys loved so much.

You didn't understand their fondness for these quaint places where the sofa upholstery hadn't changed along with the owner. There were so many modern bars in the city, any of which the band could afford to rent entirely, but they paid tribute to traditions, obviously cherishing memories of their lively youth when they started playing their first concerts in similar places. Such a return to their roots after the thousands-capacity stadiums grounded them well. And the warm nostalgia, slipping across the Guinness glasses every time, was a corner of genuine joy for the guys, the only true luxury they possessed.

And overall, you didn't care where to spend money or on what. After all today's events, which felt like a whole month, you didn't mind anymore. In the morning, you looked at your apple orchard in the early mist of suburban London, then stood half-naked in a five-star hotel room in front of a world-renowned music star, and now, in the evening, you huddled next to him on an old leather couch under a red velvet chandelier, drinking a B-52.

Glasses, shots and colorful bottles flashed in front of your eyes like a kaleidoscope. Your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol, and your cheeks hurt from laughter.

"My dear mates, I propose a toast to Miss Y/S and her first concert with us! I don't know if she understands where she has ended up, but we'll make sure she has a great time with us, right, guys? To Y/N!" Matt solemnly proclaimed, rising from the table, and 8 hands, pouring drinks onto each other, reached towards the center of the table to clink glasses.

"Guys, thank you for this opportunity, thanks to James for his unplanned vacation, thanks to Steven and Marcus-" although the latter wasn't here, you decided to thank him as he had been providing you with all kinds of help during these weeks, "for their support and adaptation, and of course, to you Monkeys, for accepting me. I do like your crazy Monkey house" you joked, but it didn't negate the truth. Despite all the past disagreements with the lead singer, you felt that you were still doing everything right. And even if you hadn't gone on this adventure today, you would still feel grateful to fate for such an opportunity to be at the center of life.

"Glad to hear that," Jamie chuckled ironically, "as they say, welcome aboard"

And with these words, you all whistled, and Tom even shouted like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Your evening, or rather the night, continued until 3 am, fortunately there was no concert the next day, so you could at least sleep in a bit. You looked in horror at the amount you had drunk, trying to estimate how long it would take to recover the contents of your wallet. But you had consumed so much gin and tonic that the only thing that really worried you was how to walk straight for at least 2 meters to the bar to pay for it all.

"Drinks on me!" you declared with a mischievous smile to the group as you headed towards the bar counter.

"What, for everyone?" Matt playfully refined.

"Well, yeah," you didn't have the energy to realize his surprise, but he also didn't have the energy to argue with you, "that's no problem".

And thus, the following events spun in your head like a foggy whirlpool. Here you were finally breathing in the fresh air of the street, tilting your head towards the purple sky, then you were half-lying on someone's shoulder in the black minivan, and finally for no reason you were walking barefoot on a soft hotel carpet, but there were no shoes in your hands as well.

You didn't have any memories of walking into your room either. But in the moment, the feeling of soft snow-white hotel sheets flooded your body with long-awaited bliss. You instantly fell into the arms of Morpheus, only on the verge of consciousness noticing that someone took off the headband from your hair, which had been squeezing your head tightly, and silently closed the door.

You may be too drunk to remember each of your actions clearly, but you definitely wouldn't mistake the familiar scent of cigarettes in the room.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: Oh, so much has happened in one chapter, and this is just the beginning of the tour... I decided to tell the background of Y/N for a better understanding of her actions. What do you think, maybe you want more of "Italian friends" in the work? Whose line do you want to read in more detail? Share your emotions, it is incredibly valuable to me that someone reads this work actually!

xo🤍

Taglist: @missbabyjay @rentskenobi @findmeincorneliastreet @indierockgirrl here it is!

*if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to ask me!

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noahmaxim · 1 year

Text

Lazy day - Ethan Torchio

I accept requests!

Warnings: beware this can be cute.

English is not my first language, so it may contain grammatical errors. I'm Brazilian.

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It was a sunny afternoon in Rome, and even though it was summer there was a soft, cool breeze, the perfect day to laze around the house. You were sitting on a wooden stool finishing a painting that you had started a few days ago. A customer had ordered a painting of a full moon night, and you had to deliver it within a week.

A rather sleepy Ethan appeared in the room, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself fully. Her sleep-dazed eyes studied what little of the room they could still see while her mind processed what was happening around her. Without taking your focus off the drawing you say:

"Did you sleep well mi amoré?" Her sweet, warm tone doesn't seem to have woken her boyfriend up completely, he disappears into the kitchen for a few moments.

A smile instantly appears on his lips, Ethan was very cute when he woke up, his messy hair framed his beautiful face and that sleepwalking way of his makes him even cuter. He was like an adorable kitten.

Ethan has reappeared in the room with a glass cup full of coffee in his hands, he walks towards you tilting his head slightly to look at the painting.

"What do you think?" You turn slightly to the side so you could look at your boyfriend.

"Even if it's not finished, but it's really good" He leaves a kiss on the top of her head.

"Then I'll get back to work." You turn back to the canvas and go back to painting.

Thirty minutes or so passed, but you remained focused on your work. Good at least until she felt soft kisses on her neck.

"Amoré, I'm working." You smile, depositing your brush on the small table that was next to the canvas.

"I know, but you've been there so long. We hardly have time to spend together, so how about we take the day to spend together?" He continues to attack her neck with soft kisses.

"Fine, let's have a lazy day!" You get up, putting your arms around the brunette's neck, you place a kiss on Ethan's lips. He asks for passage with his tongue, the kiss was calm and sweet.

"Let's go to bed." He picks you up bridal style making you squeal in surprise.

Those moments were her favorites, the moments when you could just enjoy Ethan's company.

#maneskin x reader #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio #maneskin #victoria de angelis #damiano david #thomas raggi #maneskin imagines #ethan torchio x you #maneskin x you #ethan torchio imagine

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writersblockiskillingme · 1 year

Note

Dad Damaino please

Papà | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x reader

Summary: You woke up in the middle of the night just so that you realize that Damiano is not with you, but don't worry. You know where to find him.

Warning/s: just pure fluff, mantion of hospitals a few times, pregnancy and babies and all that stuff, dad Damiano (yes that should be a warning itself), first time writing anything related to babies and that kind of stuff, possible grammar and spelling mistakes (English is my second language)

Author's note: Ding! Order up!🛎 Here is another Damiano fic as you requested. I really do hope you like it. It is truly the first time that I wrote anything that included this type of topics, but I hope that I did a decent job. Thank you for the request, anon. Feel free to send more requests. Enjoy!! 👩‍🍳

You were snuggled deep in the silk sheets on Damiano's and yours bed. Once you heard the noise the first time you just started to press your face much deeper in your pillow. The softness and the warmth of your side of the bed was overwhelming. You were finally back home. Back in your own bed.

Oh, how much you missed your comfortable side of the bed. The soft, squishy pillow that felt like you were resting your face on a literal cloud. You missed the softness so much. You knew one thing for sure. Hospital beds sucked. Very much so. But, aside from all that. One thing you missed the most, one thing that you literally wanted to kill for when you were forced to lay in uncomfortable hospital bed for days, was Damiano's soft touch when you slept.

The feeling of his arm tightening around you and bringing you closer to keep you warm at night when you were practically fast asleep. You missed the feeling of his soft breathing that you felt against your neck every night. You just missed feeling his warmth and being in his safe hold in your sleep. When you slept in the same bed with him, it felt like the safest place ever. You felt like you were the safest you could ever be in the whole wide world right when you were in his arms. Speaking of Damiano, soon enough, as you steached your arm out and your fingers felt the sheets on the other side of the bed where Damiano was supposed to be sleeping, you noticed that Damiano wasn't laing in bed anymore. That's when you heard that little whining voice again, but it was slowly calming down, it was slowly getting quite and you knew what it was. You knew what was happening.

You gathered all of the strength you could so you could open your eyes. You did so with, what seemed like, a lot of effort. You than steached your arm a little bit left soaking in the feeling of the cold side of bed which Damiano occupied, but now was nowhere to be found. Yet you were sure that you knew exactly where he was. And so, with that thought, you decided that you should get up and confirm your suspicion. You couldn't help but let out a small soft groan at the thought of getting up from the bed. It doesn't matter, you think to yourself, the bed was getting colder without him anyways. You lifted the covers off of you and slang your legs over your side of the bed so you could get up. As you did that, and got up afterwards, you, once again, couldn't help but let out another soft groan from the soreness. You still couldn't believe that all of this happened just a few days ago.

You slowly, quietly started to walk out of Damiano's and yours room and down the hallway. You watched your every step, careful as to not wake her up as Damiano probably got her back to sleep. Just when you thought that you had to open the door to the room that was not so far away from your bedroom you met with a wonderful sight.

There he was. Standing in the middle of the room, his back turned to you, facing the window which showed nothing but a complete darkness that the Italian night brought with it when it decided that Sun should be pushed away for a few hours before it was time for it to go back up. Even though his back was facing you, you could see that he was holding something in his arms or rather someone. As you stood frozen by the doorway, you watched as Damiano was slowly rocking her back and forth as he sang something in Italian to her. It was beautiful. It was truly beautiful. But most of all, it was peaceful and you didn't have the heart, you just couldn't bare, to break this peace between a father and a daughter. But you didn't have to. Damiano was first to notice your presence in the room. When you saw that he noticed you, you started to slowly walk up to him as he gave you a little soft smile. You leaned over his shoulder, holding onto him as you looked at the peaceful, sleeping face of your little girl.

"What are you doing up, amore?" He whispered once you joined them. "Did we wake you up?"

"I noticed that your side of the bed was cold and when I opened my eyes I saw that you were gone." You explained as you watched him watch you with beautiful pair of crystals that your daughter stole for herself, too. "I knew that I would find you here after I heard her voice." You told him as you pressed your finger against your daughter's soft cheek as you carefully tried to not wake her up with your action.

"You shouldn't be awake at his hour. Only a few days have passed since you were free to return home from the hospital." He started to ramble, you noticed that he started to speak faster, his Italian accent getting thicker and you couldn't help but smile at him. "You must sit down right now. You must rest." He continued with whispering his worries to you and you could hold back a quiet giggle that escaped your lips.

"Amore, I'm fine. I feel perfectly fine. Still a little sore, sure." You said and you immediately noticed how he shot you a worried look at that once again so you quickly continued to explain. "But I feel fine, Dami. Truly."

"But you would tell me if something was wrong." He gave you a look, never stopping with rocking your asleep daughter back and forth. "Right?"

"Of course I would. I promise." You promised with a smile and he seemed satisfied with your truthful answer.

"Good." He told you, but he still made you sit down on the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

At that moment you realized how lucky you truly were as to have this amazing family. You had a person who loved you unconditionally and would do anything for you just like you would do the same for him. He was your everything and you were his everything. As he shot a quick look and caught your sleeping form in a rocking chair he realized that he couldn't be happier. He had you. You had him. Him and your darling daughter Marlena.

TAGLIST

@opal-rugger

#anon ask #anons welcome #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x reader #damiano david #damiano david x reader #maneskin #imagine #damiano david x you #x reader #reader #fanfic #fic

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taste-your-silhouette · 10 months

Text

I wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa

Pairings: Damiano David x fem!reader Contents: Smut Summary: Damiano takes you to see his new yacht Words: ~1205 A/N: Forgive me if you come across any errors while reading. I hope you enjoy it 💙

Damiano tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and says, "Today, I'm taking you on a nighttime picnic."

"Nighttime picnic? Sounds cool!" you laugh.

Damiano grins, matching your excitement, and nods. "Exactly, amore mio. We'll be under the stars, and a picnic will be perfect."

"Hmmm, sounds intriguing. So, where are we heading?" you ask.

With a gentle kiss on your lips, Damiano replies, "Let's head to the marina. I've got something new and I'm excited to share."

And he takes the lead, pulling you by the hand toward the marina. It's not a long walk, so you stroll hand in hand, chatting about random stuff and playfully teasing each other along the way.

As you arrive at the marina, you both wander through its numerous alleys until Damiano stops and gazes at you with gleaming eyes.

"Okay, you've got a yacht, I can tell. Which one?" you inquire.

"Y/N"

"Hm?"

Damiano chuckles and points to a massive, stunning yacht.

"That's the name. 'Y/N in the sea with diamonds'," he announces proudly.

You burst into laughter at the yacht's name and the fact that your name is on it, but most of all, you're filled with love for Damiano for arranging this surprise. You take a step closer to him, closing any remaining distance, and plant a passionate kiss on his lips. He places both hands on your waist, intensifying the connection between you, and sending shivers down your spine. Your heart races as he pulls you closer, but as he breaks the kiss, he reveals.

"Let's hop in soon, I've been keeping this Yacht secret from you for weeks."

"Weeks ago?! I can't believe it!" you lightly push him, laughing playfully.

Damiano holds your hand, taking the opportunity to guide you into the yacht. It's magnificent; your heart races as you step inside the Yacht—it's like stepping into a movie set. The interior is sophisticated, adorned with muted tones and soft lighting, creating a welcoming atmosphere. The huge picture windows allow the sunset light to dance across the elegant hardwood floors.

"So, did you like it?" Damiano asks, his eyes filled with anticipation.

"Gattino... it's amazing!"

"Come here," he takes your hand and leads you to the deck.

The deck is utterly cozy, featuring a soft rug and cushions scattered on the floor. A basket filled with delicious treats sits nearby: fancy sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a selection of tempting sweets.

"You're a box of surprises, you know? Look at this place!" you exclaim, marveling at the setup.

You glance at Damiano, who's looking at you expectantly and happily—his beauty enhanced by the golden glow of the sunset. A gentle breeze envelops you, and everything intensifies as Damiano draws even closer, so close that your breaths intermingle. He whispers:

"I love you, Y/N. Nothing I can create in this world comes close to what you deserve."

"I already have everything I want, I have you loving me, and I love you," you express with a contented smile.

You resist the urge to jump on him and skip the whole snack part.

"I want to madly kiss you until I lose my breath."

Damiano holds your gaze and smirks. "You, my love, have no idea of the things I want to do to you right here, but come on, let's eat first." He takes your hand, and together, you walk to the soft pads on the floor of the yacht and sit down.

You find yourself comfortably nestled between his legs, leaning back against Damiano's chest. You both enjoy the delectable treats, savoring each bite while talking and laughing, basking in the joy of being together.

The sun has already set and the moon is massive, with its twin dancing in the sea, Damiano gets close to your ear and whispers:

"You look damn gorgeous in the moonlight, Y/N"

His heart races as he feels Damiano kissing your neck and caressing your face lightly, bringing his mouth to meet yours. You turn to face Damiano completely and straddle him, wrapping your legs around his waist, his arm wrapping around your waist and squeezing as the kiss intensifies.

You moan in between the kiss as you press yourself down and rock forward slowly, causing the perfect friction between the two of your sensitive parts. Your clit swells with pleasure as you feel how hard Damiano is.

He moves his hands from your waist to your hips and gives it a gentle squeeze, guiding the movements and setting a rhythm. The kiss between you is interrupted by a moan, and Damiano takes the opportunity to explore your neck even more with kisses, bites, and hickeys. You feel him getting even more aroused with the increased pace of the movements.

In a flash, he's got your ass and lying down on the comfy floor, his body on top of yours. His hands roam all over your body, causing a trail of excitement and goosebumps on your skin, which he has easy access to thanks to your dress.

"So wet for me..." he says, softly rubbing the right spot.

With his other hand of his, he holds one of your boobs and squeezes it.

"So delicious," he slides your panties down your legs with only one hand, "and mine." And he enters you.

His hips go all the way down and stop, he buries his face on your neck, and you can perfectly hear all his groans, even the quietest ones, just as he hears yours. He holds your thighs tightly.

Your hearts are pounding, as are your moans as Damiano's hips slide in and out of you faster, his balls hitting you with each thrust, his hands gripping you so firmly it makes you tingle.

You scream his name as you start to feel your legs shake.

"Come for me, Y/N," he says between moans in your ear.

You moan louder and stronger after hearing his voice asking you to come like that, and it's impossible to hold back the huge feeling that is about to explode.

And it comes, as soon as you feel it penetrates you as much as it can, gushing all the pleasure it feels for you inside you, spurt after spurt.

He collapses on top of you, his hands slightly loosening their grip on your thighs. You look at him, his eyes still filled with desire and lust.

You hook your legs around him and spin around on top of him, sitting right on his lap.

"You're even more irresistible with the moonlight illuminating you," he says, lifting both hands and massaging your boobs.

You smile, wiggling slightly with his cock inside you.

"Let's not end this anytime soon then, because I can say the same for you."

And so you spend the night, on Y/N in the Sea with Diamonds, christening every corner of it with pleasure.

"You're even more irresistible with the moonlight illuminating you," he says, lifting both hands and massaging your boobs.

You smile, wiggling slightly your hips with his cock inside you.

"Let's not end this anytime soon then, because I can say the same for you."

And so you spend the night, on Y/N in the Sea with Diamonds, christening every corner of it with pleasure.

#må #måneskin #damiano david #damiano måneskin #damiano david x reader #damiano david smut #damiano david x you #damiano david fic #måneskin imagine

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userjiminie · 2 years

Photo

MÅNESKIN x CORALINE for @jiminswn ♡

#maneskin #måneskin #damiano david #maneskinedit #italiansedit #*g #tw flashing #please don't look at me i have no idea what i'm doing #originally this was supposed to be a jimin x taemin set #but this last week took me by storm in a hundred different ways and this is where my brain went #i vow to make that set when the world stops ending #HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE OF MY LIFE!#i'd give u the world if i could but until i find a way to do that please accept this humble set instead 🤲🏼#at this point i believe i've already exhausted all the words in my english vocabulary waxing poetic about you #so now i'm just [vehement incoherent in love noises] @ you #i love you i admire you i adore every minute i spend talking to you #thank you for one more year of you generously gifting me with wholesome cat videos & good music & beautiful sunsets #thank you for your trust & your patience & your gentleness #you play such a singular & important part in my life i hope you know that #i hope you have a warm peaceful comforting day & that the world showers you with all the love you deserve #not only today but always 🤍#also fun fact but only the moment i was tagging u did i realize this set matches ur blog's color palette fhdfhdjkj #(at least on desktop it does 🤡)#that's our way of life. at least one 👉🏼👈🏼 a day 😔✊🏼

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filthforfriends · 8 months

Text

Chapter 2: Sentient

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Author's Note (CW: addiction, hospital)

Word count: 4.7k

Damiano David x Y/n

“Dami, don’t panic. You’re okay. You’re okay, baby, I promise. I’m here. Y/n is here and you’re okay.” He startles violently and his eyes fly open, containing an unquellable panic. Dr. Williams uses a flashlight to test the responsiveness of Damiano’s pupils. That temporarily blinds him and makes the situation worse.

“Mr. David, you are in the hospital. You overdosed last night.” He speaks slowly and loudly while leaning over. You decide to sit down on the edge of the cot. Very slightly, you tilt his face towards you while leaning in close, less than a foot away.

“You recognize me?” His brow furrows and he squeezes your hand tightly. Yes, I fucking recognize you. “Just making sure.” Your thumb brushes the tape which holds the mouthpiece in place. He starts fighting the ventilator, making horrendous coughing and gagging songs that turn his face red.

“I’d really rather not sedate him,” says Dr. Williams to another physician.

“Dami, stop fighting it.” He then jolts, trying to get away from the intubation. “Just try to breathe, baby.” At the risk of being reprimanded, you scoot in as close as possible, your hip snug against Damiano’s side. The familiarity gives him pause.

“You O.D.-ed at the club. The drugs were laced with fentanyl. You are in a hospital. You overdosed so you’re in the hospital, but you’re alive.” When you set Dami’s hand in your lap, it slides to hold your flank. The physicality was as if no time had passed. Both hands free, you cup his face and stoop so there's less than six inches between separating you. His left hand is exploring dangerously close to the tubing, which he will undoubtedly yank.

“Prepare restraints,” Dr. Williams murmurs.

“No it's okay, I’ve got him.” You grasp Damiano’s left hand by the wrist and place it on your cheek. “I’m real. You’re really here. You’re okay. They had to put you on life support, baby.” The terror is back, but you get a hand under his hospital gown and rub Damia’s chest. “Try to breathe with it, for now. They’re getting someone to remove it. You’re okay. Shh…you’re okay, my love.” That last bit slipped out and to make matters worse, Damiano starts crying and shaking his head. Interpreting that as “no,” you begin pulling back, only for Dam to do everything in his power to bring you close again.

Just barely, you rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes because the alternative is too much. He watches you, however, the only thing that could soothe his mind after free falling into the abyss. Weakly, his left hand tucks the hair away from your face, the right rubbing your lower back. It was bliss. It was hell. It was the most grounded you’d felt in three months. It rubbed salt into every healing wound and tore open a couple new ones.

“Okay, that's good. Keep him calm.” How ironic that Damiano was the one keeping you calm, despite having a hard plastic tube down his throat. He’d always been so damn steadying. Conversely, it was your job to keep Dami tethered to reality as he became an international rockstar and sex symbol. Coming home from tour also meant coming home to himself, the person that didn’t exist for the entertainment of others and you pulled that out from under him when he needed it most. As a direct result, Dami had almost killed himself. You open your eyes and find five years of memories staring back at you. He wasn’t just conscious, he was intact.

“I swear to god, if you did one iota of damage to that beautiful brain of yours…” You run the back of your fingers down the side of his face. “Do you realize that by destroying yourself, you’re destroying a piece of art? That you’re ripping something beautiful and rare into a bunch of pieces and spitting on it?” You look into his teary eyes and wonder what he’d say if he could speak. After nearly dying had his answer changed? I don’t fucking live for other people! It's actually worse if they love me, do you understand that? Fame made love into a bad thing, an evil thing. Because they invent an idea of me in their head and all I can fucking do is betray that!

Someone in scrubs peaks their head through the doorway and addresses Dr. Williams in a whisper-yell.

“Just so you’re aware Paul, we do have a very worried mother on hold who’d like to speak to you when you’re done here.”

“Tell her y/n is here and that he’s awake,” you call, momentarily looking towards the flushed nurse's assistant. Dami’s mother had far from cut off contact and not so secretly hoped that you’d patch things up after taking a bit of time. It’d make her feel better that her son wasn’t alone. She must have woken up for a run, checked her messages, and realized that Damiano was in a coma. Now, every phone call from Maneskin’s team was going to give her anxiety.

“I, um…” Dr. Williams gives a single nod of permission. “I’ll do that right away.”

“Mr. David, are you close with your family?” You sit up out of the way, lacing your fingers through Dami’s right hand so he can’t use it to wreak havoc. As soon as you leave his line of sight, he gets frantic.

“She’s right here, Mr. David. She is sitting right beside you. I just need to ask you some questions, see when we can get you off the ventilator. Okay?” He is still straining and squeezing your hand, afraid of losing the only bit of familiarity.

“Baby, I’m right here. See? You can hold onto me.” His hand does exactly that, clutching the outside of your thigh. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here.”

“Why don’t you put your hand on his face again, carefully.”

“Tox screens,” Maria announces in a murmur, turning a computer towards Dr. Williams. He looks at it briefly and hums in acknowledgement. You take his casualness as a good sign.

“Mr. David, I’m gonna have you squeeze once for yes, twice for no.” It's actually a kind of ingenious thing to do, because it forces Damiano to keep his focus on you. He gives a single firm squeeze with both hands.

“Yes.”

“Alright, do you know where you are?” His pointer finger draws a line along your flank, then three smaller lines perpendicular to it. With the stress and sleep deprivation, it takes you a moment to realize he’s spelling something.

“E…R. Yes, exactly!” you exclaim, way too excited.

“Excellent. Do you know why you’re here?”

“O D um…question mark.” Already the nausea returns.

“That’s correct. You overdosed on fentanyl about almost 7 hours ago. Do you know what day it is?” After a moment, Dami squeezes twice.

“No.”

“Alright. It is April 24th, 2023. I’m sure you’re feeling some disorientation. Do you know who I have seated beside me right now?” Hard squeeze.

“Yes.” His pointer finger slowly traces something. “He just spelled the first letter of my name.” You’re giddy despite yourself. “When will we know if he has brain damage?”

“All I can tell you is that everything looks normal so far. Mr. David, I’m gonna list off the substances found in your blood and urine, so you tell me if you ingested them intentionally.” Even in his single squeeze you can feel the apprehension.

“Dami, do you need me to leave for a sec? Because you have to be honest right now.” There's a tense moment and he squeezes twice. “Okay, I know you don’t want me to leave, but you have to tell them the truth. You almost died today.” He holds on to you instead of answering. “Promise?” Squeeze. “Okay.” Dr. Williams’ eyes flit back and forth instead of posing a question.

“Okay…alcohol?”

“Yes.”

“Cannabis.”

“Yes.”

“Cocaine.”

“Yes.”

“Fentynal.”

“No.” You let out a sigh, but Dr. Williams clears his throat nervously. He refolds his hands.

“We also found trace amounts of heroin.” Dami squeezes once and you wait for the second squeeze, but it never comes. Heroin.

“Y/n?” Again, a single squeeze.

“Yes.” Your voice breaks and you feel hot tears on your cheeks running down to your chin. Each face in the room pities you. A loud ringing drowns out every beep, every hushed whisper, every calmly phrased question. Heroine. When? Why? Damiano used to rant about rock stars wasting their talent, the love of their families, their futures on hard core drugs. People with addictive personalities shouldn’t experiment with addictive substances, it was so simple to him. When had that man died and what was this monster that had replaced him?

“Heroin!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?” Dami is guilt stricken and really being absolutely miserable was the least he could do given the situation. “All that stuff about stupid, selfish rock stars blowing up the lives of everyone they loved, was it all fake?” Two squeezes. “Were you trying to trick me?” Two squeezes. “Were you using our whole relationship?” Two squeezes. “But did you ever do heroin while we were dating?” One squeeze. Speechless, you try to recoil but he holds on tight.

Had he shown signs? You don’t even know what the signs of heroin use are. It had never crossed your mind as a possibility. Like a stupid little girl, you’d been worried about alcoholism. There’d never been any needle marks, but maybe you missed it. Maybe he’d made love to you, a cry for help punctured into his skin, and you’d been blind.

“Should I have caught it?” No. “Were you miserable?” No. “Do you shoot up?” No. “Did you ever do it in our apartment?” No. “Did we ever have sex while you were high?” He hesitates at that one and you realize why. “I don’t mean when we would split a pot brownie. I mean did we have sex while you were high or heroine?” No.

God, that was fun, getting buzzed on an edible and spending the whole day naked and laughing in bed. You still had that white fitted sheet with a mango sorbet stain. Damiano was the best person to be high with. He never got sick or messy, but would happily take care of you if the reverse happened. Now you could never look at it the same. Of course he could handle weed if he was doing heroin.

“Did you wish you were high on heroin when we were having sex?” No! He uses his whole hand to pat your leg twice, very decisively.

“Perhaps –”

“Did you do coke when we were together?” No. “How many times did you do heroin?” Dami holds up two fingers. “Twice?” Yes.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but –”

“Of course. Sorry, continue.” Dr. Williams is merciful enough to switch the mode of communication to blinking. As soon as you were taken out of the middle, Damiano began strangling your hand, so you couldn’t leave. He had no fucking right to keep you here. Your fingers ached, all clasped together.

“You’re hurting me.” He freezes, grip loosening slightly. Yes, you could rip your hand away, self-righteous. However, Damiano was terrified and suffering enough without you exacting your ounce of revenge. He’d finally been honest and you couldn’t punish that, regardless of the betrayal.

“Y/n, did you hear that? We have to make sure Damiano can breathe on his own before taking him off the ventilator.”

“Um…okay.”

“The respiratory therapist will be the one to make that call, Dr. Costa. She should be here shortly.” Everyone but Maria files out of the room. Leaving you with Damiano feels like being hired for a position you are far from qualified for, but at least they allow Ethan to come inside.

“What's going on?” He’s breathless and disheveled in a way that is very un-Ethan.

“He’s awake. Come talk to him.” Damiano’s eyes don’t move from your face so you search for the right thing to say that's also genuine.

“I’m really glad you’re alive. Also you are cutting off blood flow to my hand.” He releases his grip to clasp Ethan’s hand instead. “One for yes, two for no.” Now that someone else is keeping him distracted, you stand up to retrieve your purse. As soon as his hand falls from your lap, Dami is reaching for you, frantically opening and closing his fist. You climb back onto the cot, foreheads pressed together again.

“I am getting my purse to call your mom. Okay? I am not leaving. Ethan, lean over into his line of sight.” You take a deep breath after standing upright. The urge to run returns, but you ignore it, applying chapstick to keep yourself distracted. Upon returning to the bed, you put his mom on speakerphone and place it next to Dami’s ear. She answers after less than one ring.

“He’s awake?”

“Mhm, and he can hear you.” The phone call is teary. She thanks you profusely for being there to the point that you have to change the subject to stop yourself from choking up.

“I was here when he woke up. It happened just after a blood draw.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” There's a heavy pause. “You said he was awake, but is he…”

“Sentient? Yes, no signs of brain damage so far. He even rolled his eyes when they asked if he knew who the prime minister was.”

“Oh, thank god.” She sobs and Damiano winces.

“He even looks guilty right now.”

“As he should. Do you know anything else?” For a moment, you and Dami hold poignant eye contact.

“No, sorry. We’ve all been focused on Dam.” There was no point in telling his mother about the heroin, at least not now. It’d do nothing constructive. Damiano could break the news himself once extubated and discussing the next rehab program. After a copious amount of goodbyes, the end of the phone call brought a wave of exhaustion that damn near made you keel over.

“I’m gonna take a nap until the respiratory therapist gets here.” Dami pats the space beside him. “No chance, I need more than seven inches of hospital bed. There's a cot over there. I’ll still be in the room.” This time Dami points to the edge of his bed. “You really want me to drag that thing all the way over here?”

“I'll do it,” Ethan offers. Scarcely interacting with the band since the breakup had been strange. Maneskin were a constant fixture in your life for five years and then they weren’t.

“Thank you, Edgar.” With Damiano’s bed lowered all the way down, and you laying on your side, his hand could just barely touch the top of your head. Ethan turned off the lights and it occurred to you that this very much wasn’t broken up behavior. Did it really matter while he was on a ventilator? Did anything? The memories of these moments of intimacy would no doubt haunt you, from a day when context transcended relationship status.

Ethan was the one to rouse you, helping you sit upright while only half conscious. The offensive LED lights were back on and the room was full of people. Instantly, you’re self conscious and aware that time has passed.

“What’s going on?” you croak.

“They’re going to extubate Damiano. They can’t do the procedure with visitors in the room,” he explains gently. You stand upright, wobble, then focus your gaze on who must be Dr. Costa.

“He’s okay?”

“Mr. David passed an SBT with flying colors. We are very confident that it is safe to extubate him.”

“Right, okay.” It feels as if your brain is going slower than everyone else’s. “Can I…I just say something to him, real quick?”

“Sure,” agrees Dr. Costa with a professional, but impatient smile. You place one knee on the hospital bed and lean over. Damiano is so anxious, face even more gray than when you arrived, and he’s sweating.

“I am not leaving. You will see me in a few minutes when they’re done de-tubing you.”

“Extubating,” someone corrects.

“I will be here when they are done extubating you.” You kiss his gross forehead and stand up.

“I would recommend going down to the cafeteria,” says Dr. Costa. It seems like a genial suggestion until you end up with your hands clamped over your ears outside the hospital room. Turns out that removing a plastic tube shoved all the way down someone’s esophagus is an unpleasant ordeal. Instead of letting you back in, Maria peeks her head out and announces they’re also removing the catheter. That sounds only marginally less excruciating than the extubation.

When you re-enter, after another 20 minutes, Damiano is sitting upright, sipping a cup of water. He looks like shit. You search for signs of jaundice.

“Is his liver okay? His kidneys?”

“We’ll keep him for observation another day or two.”

“Right.” Thank god Ethan was in the room with you, because now you really wanted to grab your shit and bolt. “Did everything go okay? That sounded…brutal.”

“Unfortunately, extubation is normally an uncomfortable procedure.”

“How has his breathing been since?”

“About what we expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Y/n, talk to me for god’s sake.”

“His vocal chords –”

“Y/n!”

“Agitation is a normal reaction,” Maria murmurs, making herself busy by organizing the bundle of chords monitoring Damiano.

“Just look at me.” He’d shaved all his beautiful hair right after the breakup, but even that can’t draw your attention away from his pallor. He’s more than ready for a mugshot.

“I’d like to know what you’re doing next. I won’t plan or enforce anything, that’s not my place anymore. I want to know for my own peace of mind.”

“We’re doing this press tour, so lots of superficial interviews and a few small scale performances.” He stares at you like this agenda should be obvious, and it is. The Maneskin itinerary isn’t what you’re talking about.

“You think you can make it through the end of this before rehab? It’s been less than two days and you almost killed yourself.” Maria slips out of the room.

“I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll test my drugs.” You’re momentarily baffled.

“‘You’ll test your drugs!?’”

“Yes.” He takes another sip of water while still holding eye contact, patronizing and hellbent on appearing in control. Except he wasn’t in control.

“You almost died, Damiano.” Ethan awkwardly takes a seat in the corner of the room

“A fact which has been made abundantly clear to me. I’m sure SME will have me back on the road again in no time.” His pessimism drips in syrupy sweet, faux positivity. It's alarming. Dami leans back, casual in a way that makes you furious. Now that he doesn’t need you, that glimmer of sincerity is gone.

“No.”

“No,’ what?”

“No, you don’t get to go from having a panic attack every moment we weren’t physically touching to being callous and distant.” This was the temperament that you broke up with and you weren’t gonna waste anymore time and heartache. The overnight bag never got unpacked, so all you had to locate was your purse and phone. Then you could leave.

“Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing? Stop, stop. Okay. Stop!”

“Why?” you snap, snatching your phone off of the bedside table.

“Thank you.” He picks up your free hand and kisses every knuckle.

“You won’t need to test your drugs because you’re gonna get clean. No alcohol, either.” Damiano sighs heavily. Explaining something so obvious is apparently burdensome.

“Do you know why frontmen do blow? It’s because there's no other way to do all the shit that our label demands. This is the equivalent of taking steroids as a professional athlete.”

“Steroids disqualify players.”

“Didn’t always. That’s why no one can beat the records set in the 80s.” You scoff and step back.

“You’re actually justifying this. Fucking incredible.”

“I’m not justifying, I’m providing logic. That's different.”

“Really, how?”

“Even facts involve logic.”

“So it's a fact that you need coke to be a frontman? Is it a fact that cocaine use is normal?”

“In certain circumstances, yes.” After five years, you were immune to his charisma. However, Dami spoke with such confidence and certainty that it no doubt swayed others.

“I’ve seen you with food poisoning, you can’t hypnotize me, dumbass.” For a moment, he’s humbled. “Also let's talk about the heroin. How are you going to explain that away?”

“Heroin!?” Ethan exclaims, horrified.

“You’re just mad that I did it while we were together.” he sneers.

“I am not just mad because of that. I actually have an whole fucking list of reasons that you doing heroin pisses me off, starting with: its fucking heroin.”

“I was experimenting. Obviously, I’m not addicted to it, otherwise there’d be more than traces in my bloodstream.”

“I’m sorry, your excuse for doing heroin is that you don’t do it very often?” Ethan exclaims, more visibly angry than you’d ever seen him. “Damiano, no!”

“I can stop whenever I want, I’m not addicted.”

“Then stop!!” Ethan yells.

“Fine,” he throws his hands up. “But it's not a big deal like you're making it.” He turns to you for understanding.

“Damiano, experimenting with heroin is like seeing how fast you need to drive a car for it to flip. You’re in the car!”

“Hypocrite,” he spits.

“What!? How am I –”

“You used to be all about experimenting.” It's such a stretch, that you initially don’t get it. Is he referring to taking edibles together? No, he’s throwing your entire relationship under the bus to justify using hard drugs.

“Woah! Having safe, conscientious, and consensual sex with other appropriately aged adults is not the same as heroin.” In that moment, the how falls into place. “Ethan, can you give me a minute?” Your eyes never break contact with Dami’s.

“Sure…” As soon as the door closes you hold back a scream.

“Are we still being honest?” Damiano gestures for you to go ahead. “Did you ever cheat on me? To be clear, cheating would be having sexual contact with another partner without –”

“I know the parameters of our relationship, y/n.”

“Fine. Did you ever violate them?”

“No!”

“Then who was it!? Who got you hooked on heroin?” For a moment he’s reeling, trying to cover up after being exposed.

“I’m not hooked!

“There is no way to take heroin recreationally, Damiano. You didn’t have opportunities to just stumble upon this, so who introduced you?”

“I, I’m not – that’s not…it doesn’t matter.”

“Don't tell me it doesn’t –” You stop yourself from screaming, take a deep breath, and adopt a dangerously calm tone. “You know what? I’m gonna find the answer to this. So why don’t you tell me yourself?”

“So then what, fuck privacy?”

“I’m asking what kinks they – no.” At first, you’d get in these giant convoluted fights where he’d bait you and it’d work every time. After 20 minutes of screaming you’d forget what the argument was even about and all that emotional intensity would become epic make-up sex. Now you had to anticipate his words having no integrity.

“You know what, I bet…” You scroll down on the notes app until you see the name Odette in a title. “I still have one of my lists.” You kept a shortlist of everyone you were actively involved with, in case herpes or chlamydia became an issue. “I have some of these women’s numbers. Caterina and I actually got brunch a couple weeks ago. Should I call her first?” He looks trapped and it's so vindicating. “Their NDAs should cover drug use, right?”

“Don’t.”

“Or I could start with your friends. We were together for five years, Damiano. I have everyone’s number. You were a real sloppy drunk towards the end.”

“Y/n, don’t tell my friends about this,” he begs.

“Why, I thought heroin was a non-issue?”

“I met them through a previous partner,” he admits. “We had sex once and it was bad, but they introduced me to their roommate. I was already really drunk when I tried it the first time. I wanted to know what it’d feel like sober so I did it again.”

“And since?” He sighs and looks at his hands.

“I’ve done it a few times.”

“Give me a number.”

“No.” You shove your phone in your purse and grasp the handle of your bag. “Fine, four! I only do it when I’m already high and way too amped up. It's just to negate the coke.”

“What the fuck are you doing mixing heroin with other substances? Do you have a death wish!? Is that it, are you suicidal?”

“No! I don’t know,” he groans. Your chest tightens painfully. Damiano had spent two and a half years of your relationship in therapy. His intrusive thoughts started getting really dark as Maneskin gained popularity.

“You should have stayed in therapy. This all could have been avoided.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Whatever, you’re entering inpatient treatment. This hospital had a great psychiatric and behavioral care unit, but if you’d prefer a smaller facility –” “I’m not going into a psych ward, y/n.”

“Fine, rehab facility of your choice.”

“I’m not going back to rehab, either. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You have to go to rehab!” you shout, desperately. “Because you will not die on me! If you ever, ever loved me, you would not destroy my entire life that way!” Damiano is taken aback at your outburst and the room is silent for several seconds. “Promise you’ll never do heroin again.”

“I promise.”

“Mean it!!”

“I do!”

“Go to rehab,” you deadpan.

“Stop trying to control my life, y/n!”

“I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t,” he pleads. Dami swings both legs over the side of the bed, as if to stand up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice breaks as the tears spill over. “I would have helped you. I was trying to help you.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Why didn’t I tell the girl researching holistic ways to treat alcoholism that I was doing fucking heroin? Really?” You nod and pull a paper towel out to wipe your face. “Because I couldn’t bear you knowing that I was a piece of shit.”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You developed a chronic illness due to a severely stressful lifestyle, risk factors outside of your control, and probably a genetic predisposition. You are not a piece of shit, you have a disease.”

“What, SUDs?”

“Yes. How would you feel if I never got treatment for my chronic illness? If I just lay in bed, suffering, refusing to take my meds?” The suggestion makes him grimace.

“That’d be unbearable to watch,” he admits, not meeting your eyes.

“Exactly. This,” you gesture around the hospital room, “is fucking unbearable to watch. Get treatment if you want to be in my life.” His expression goes from sickened to aggravated.

“Fuck you and your ultimatums,” he bites.

“Fine.” You throw away the tissue, grab your shit, and shut the door behind you. For a couple minutes, Ethan hugs you as you sob, swaying back and forth.

“Damiano has to navigate this journey by himself, because his ego won’t allow him to receive guidance. He’s too distrustful to believe anyone’s perception but his own, as flawed as it may be.”

“God damn, I forgot how wise you are, Edgar.”

“The powers of self reflection.”

“Fucking hell,” you croak, pulling away and wiping away the tears on your sleeve. A nurse from earlier picks a box of tissues off of the counter and hands it to you.

“People are often agitated when they wake from a coma. He might be more willing to listen tomorrow.”

“Tell that to his mom.” You take a heaving breath and blow your nose. “I’m going home, this isn’t my battle anymore. We broke up three months ago.” You hand the tissue box back to the nurse and she purses her lips, obviously straining to find the right platitude.

“My sister loved an addict. There are support groups for you, too.” She pats you on the shoulder and moves on.

“I’m gonna call a cab.”

“No, let me call our car service. The vultures were beginning to circle at the front of the hospital when I arrived.” Vultures was a fitting nickname for the paparazzi.

“At a hospital of all places. Hope they get run over by an ambulance.”

“Me too.”

Notes: Well wasn't that some nice light reading! I'll be posting two chapters a week for the foreseeable future on Tuesday and Friday or Saturday (depending on how burnt out I am from the week previous). Enjoy? I guess?

-XOXO Eden

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pjisskullourful · 13 days

Text

K̲̅e̲̅e̲̅p̲̅i̲̅n̲̅g̲̅ S̲̅e̲̅c̲̅r̲̅e̲̅t̲̅s̲̅

🎀 Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 smutathon, adults doing adult stuff

° Damiano David/female reader insert

° you gotta know I need it, tired of losing by Keeping Secrets ||| things change between you & your longtime friend damiano when he makes a cheeky comment at a party, you cant help reading into it [based dec 2020, lets not talk about the pandemic]

wordcount::. 19,684

° commissioned by lore (@lifeofa-fangirl) 💋 i have thanked you profusely& i will continue to thank you. thanks for sticking with me through this extended process& for believing in me when i didnt believe for myself [commissions are temporarily closed]

° lyrics stolen from madison rose & kandy

° [ITA:] bella: pretty

Shooting stars crash, crack and collide In the shadows we come alive Rub your skin on my skin to ignite Burn it down baby, let’s play with fire

“This guy!” Rachel exclaimed, instantly louder than what you had been saying to Damiano. “This is exactly the guy that I’ve been waiting to see.”

You had heard similar things said to him during the couple of hours since arriving at Taren’s Christmas party. You wondered if it was tiring for him, having so many people paying him attention and expecting it back. In the two years that you had known him, he had been gradually becoming more in demand, gaining more-and-more momentum with his band. The level of fame he had achieved had changed how people in your group of friends saw him. Not everyone, but enough that you had noticed.

The only thing that it had changed for you was how much time you got to spend with him - success meant a very full schedule. But he was still the same guy to you. He was the guy that you had almost shared a kiss with on four different occasions. He was the friend that loved superhero movies just as much as you, the two of you going to the cinema whenever something new came out. He was the one guaranteed to laugh at your jokes, when others seemed to not hear you.

Your little crush on him was your secret and to remain as such, because you couldn’t compromise the solid friendship that you had. Hours spent together laughing, unprompted text messages of support, all of those things were just as good as being his girlfriend - or so you told yourself.

You knew how to handle your friendship with him (you’d had a lot of time to practise that). A relationship was a swift way to surrender any control. And you needed control, you clung to it, because you saw how badly things went when you didn’t have it.

Before turning to the enthusiastic Rachel, he made a subtle gesture to you. Your shared code for put a pin in it. He wanted to hear the end of your rant about your job.

Rachel hugged each of you in turn, but it was only a one-arm embrace. Her other arm was occupied by a sizable plastic container, the contents concealed by wrapping paper. You exchanged the polite pleasantries.

“You were waiting to see me?” He asked.

“Rum balls.” She said concisely.

“What did she just call you?” You joked, seeing the confusion on his face. That was a feeling you were currently sharing.

She removed the lid from the container and held it out so you could each look inside. There was a collection of the brown and white bite-sized treats. You recognised them as something of a Christmas tradition, but you sensed there was more context eluding you.

But Damiano appeared to have figured out what was going on. “Right, rum balls.”

“Last year when I made them, he complained.” She started to explain to you. “He said I hadn’t used enough rum, so they weren’t rum balls, they were just ‘sweet balls’.”

You theatrically rolled your eyes. “You would say sweet balls, wouldn’t you? You’re always bringing balls up. And in public, too? Where’s your sense of decency?”

He played along, furrowing his brow. “Decen-... who?”

“Yeah, maybe there’s still time to add that to your wishlist for Santa.” You said.

“I called them sweet. I didn’t say they were gross, or anything.” He told her. “I was just expecting more of that rum flavour.”

She held the container closer to the two of you. “That’s why I did them differently this year. There’s definitely enough rum in these.”

Neither you nor he immediately moved to pick up one of the treats. It was a well-shared fact that Rachel wasn’t a good cook. Not due to lack of trying or ambition. But the little hobby she pursued more often than not produced results that didn’t taste as she hoped. She couldn’t get the heat of the oven perfect, or she had to substitute an ingredient with something not mentioned in the recipe. She always found a way to make chicken dry - no matter how she prepared it, or what she paired it with. At group dinners, her dish was usually the only one with leftovers.

But she always tried again. She took the good-natured teasing for what it was, proceeding forward with the goal of one day proving everyone wrong. Victoria played her ‘fussy eater’ card to avoid trying Rachel’s creations. But she could typically get some friends to eat the food out of pity.

“So, you found a new recipe to follow this year?” You asked, your hands kept at your sides as Damiano tentatively plucked one out.

“No, the same recipe. I just did my little alterations, working off of his constructive feedback.” She said, seemingly filled with optimism and pride.

Even though you were feeling uncertain, you knew that you didn’t want to hurt your friend’s feelings. You picked up a coconut-covered sphere as he was slowly raising his to his mouth.

“Mmn.” He was enthusing as soon as the dessert touched his tongue. He smiled as he began to chew. “It’s good.”

She perked up onto her tiptoes. “Better than last year?”

“Yeah, I think-...” His swallow was slow, almost as if it required extra effort. You hesitated from eating yours, watching as his eyes grew wide. “Oh, yep, there’s- there’s the rum. That’s more rum than last year, for sure.”

You were quickly understanding his choice of words, tasting rum, and then even more rum with every bite. You felt the texture of the shredded coconut, but you couldn’t taste its sweet flavour. Likewise the taste of the cocoa had been drowned out. The tang of the alcohol filled your mouth, overpowering to a degree you hadn’t been expecting.

It was like swallowing the contents of a shot glass - and you had never been a fan of shots. The dry flavour seemed to coat your throat. But you forced a smile onto your face, stifling your dislike of this taste as she looked for your reaction. She genuinely wanted to feel like she had done a good job and you couldn’t stand the thought of taking that from her.

“Ooh, yeah. That’s very rum-y. I think he’ll have to try harder to find something to complain about with these.” You said before suddenly spurting through some small coughs. You kept smiling as you reached for your glass of water. “Sorry, the coconut just tickled my throat a little.”

“Ray.” Taren said, getting her attention. “Come on, Keith is waiting to hear how terribly that mechanic ripped you off.”

“Right, let me-”

Before she could begin to turn away, Damiano surprised her (and you) as he grabbed for the container of rum balls. “Leave these here with us, will you? I don’t think I’m finished with just one and I’m lazy so I want them closeby.”

“Yeah, I was definitely planning on having more.” You lied.

She relented, transferring the food to his hands. She appeared pleased as she walked away with Taren, heading to a different area of the expansive house. You greedily gulped down more water, wanting to rinse the taste from your mouth. He quit smiling as Rachel left from your current view.

“What’s your plan, dude?” You asked. “Because I have no intentions of helping you eat those. I already feel like I’m over the legal limit, and that’s from one.”

He wasn’t eating more as he turned to you. “I had to do something to keep her from inflicting these on anybody else. And what if she offered them to someone more blunt than us? That could ruin the whole party for her- that’s not really in the spirit of the happiest season.”

This was one of the qualities that made Damiano a great friend: he wanted everyone to get a win. He was always there when somebody needed a cheerleader, boosting them and encouraging them forward so passionately.

“You’re very sweet.” You said.

“As sweet as balls?” He asked with one of his trademark mischievous grins.

You acted as if you hadn’t heard his joke, or noticed how handsome his smile was. “But you’re not gonna get me to eat those.”

“I think I could.” He said. “Come with me for a second.”

You didn’t resist, even though you had no idea what he was leading you to. It could result in trouble, his plans had ended that way more than once.

He carried the dessert with him, heading inside from the patio. You followed along, taken into the spacious basement. This was set up as something of a game room: featuring an air hockey table, a dart board and a large TV with various gaming consoles hooked up to it. There were some people relaxing in this area, but he didn’t stop to chat with any of them, he was set on his mission.

He walked directly over to the air hockey table, which wasn’t currently in use. He spun around, allowing you to see the smile still fixed on his face. He wasn’t distracted in the slightest, his eyes completely focused on you, which brought up the beginnings of feelings you didn’t want to address.

“Beat me and you don’t have to eat any others.” He said. “But if I win-... well, maybe you don’t wanna think about that.”

“And what if I just don’t agree to play?” You asked.

His smile didn’t slip, he didn’t see this as a true threat to his plan. “Oh, you mean if you forfeit? Well, I suppose I would just leave the rum balls here and hope someone else feels like being a good friend to Rachel…”

He was banking on your competitive side being activated. He had seen on countless occasions how much you loved to win at any kind of game or contest. He knew how difficult you found it to walk away if there was a slight chance that you could win, and he was exploiting this.

And you were letting it happen, wearing a smile to match his. Because who else were you going to hang out with? There were no other friends that you would prefer to spend time with. You knew that the best fun of the night would come from him and you weren’t done soaking up his company.

“Alright. The winner gets the most points out of seven games?” You said, going over to one end of the table.

He set the rum balls down closeby, then took up his position at the other end. “Uh-huh.”

You turned the table on, activating the miniscule air vents that covered the surface. The puck was placed inside of the painted circle, the middle point of the rectangular table’s length. You each collected your circular paddles, which weren’t much bigger than the palm of your hand.

“Ladies first.” He offered and you acted quickly, hoping to catch him off-guard. But this didn’t work out, with him ready to send the puck flying your way before it could get too close to the goal.

You kept going, striking the puck from different angles. You hit it so hard that it flew across the table at an impressive speed. It moved too fast for him, slipping past his paddle and into the little recess that served as your goal.

“Ladies first indeed.” You boasted, wearing a bigger smile now.

You almost forgot about everyone else in the room as you focused so intently on the game. You couldn’t look away for a second. Your mind rushed to come up with tactics, needing to come up with the key to winning.

And you succeeded - earning six goals to his singular point. You did a little happy dance while he accepted his defeat, that spectacular smile leaving his face. He ate another rum ball and with Rachel out of the room, he didn’t fake any part of his reaction. Instantly he grimaced, seeming to labour through each bite. He shut his eyes as he swallowed, all of the joy gone from his expression.

“Bloody Hell, I’m not sure that she left any rum for the rest of the world. It’s all in those little disasters.” He said.

“Why did you say they needed more rum?” You asked.

“Because that was the only thing I could think of to tell her. And I thought she would add an extra teaspoon or something, not an extra ten litres.” He said.

“Well those ten litres are all for you, my friend. Because I’m just getting started on my winning streak.” You said.

He stepped up to the table’s edge, wrapping his fingers around the paddle’s handle again. “We’ll see about that.”

You won the next set of games as well, feeling your cockiness swelling up, even though he had improved, gaining three points this time. His suffering added to your victory and you let yourself get carried away with it, laughing with the malice of a Disney villain. He scrunched his face up even more, adding extra drama to his reaction to this serving of the dessert.

The trash talking started with the next round, each of you enjoying getting invested in this contest. You gleefully teased one another, your words selected to get laughs, not to incite any actual hurt. This became a playful contest, each of you trying to find the most outrageous thing to say. You mangled one another’s names, adding extra syllables so the word loser could be incorporated. There were times when you were too distracted by laughing that he could sneak the puck past you, scoring more than a few points this way.

The teasing only got louder after Ethan had followed through on his offer of getting each of you drinks. This was your third glass of alcoholic eggnog tonight and you were enjoying the buzz you had developed. You didn’t often drink, but when you did you liked the fun-loving side it brought out of you. You got looser, forgetting about those responsibilities that plagued your days.

It didn’t take long for the eggnog to disappear. You used its far superior taste to rinse your mouth after losing and being forced to consume more of the rum balls.

Their intense flavour wasn’t getting any more appealing. So you concentrated harder after every loss. You began trying to fake him out, moving like you were going to hit the puck from the right, only to actually strike from the left. But this only worked a couple of times, the rest he could easily block.

“That’s, like, the third time you’ve done that.” He noted when you came in too strong with your paddle, sending the puck into a momentum that launched it over the raised frame of the table. “You’re getting too aggressive.”

“Boo-hoo. I lose that point every time it happens, so it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. It just happens.” You said, leaving collecting the puck from the floor up to him.

“I don’t know if losing the point is doing enough to discourage you, maybe we need a harsher penalty.” He said as he returned the puck to its starting point.

You narrowed your eyes as you looked at him. “Like what?”

“You hit it off the table and you lose the point, but you’ve also gotta eat a rum ball.” He said.

“What? That’s a bit of overkill, don’t you think?” You responded.

He smiled as he pushed the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt further up his forearms. “Don’t knock it off the table and it won’t be your problem.” You rolled your eyes as he grabbed the top of his paddle, returning to his less-relaxed stance. “Alright, we’re at a draw of three points each and it’s my serve.”

You gripped your paddle tightly, not thinking of any funny things to say as you clenched your jaw. He hit the puck in your direction and you tapped it back, not following through with all of your power. He moved to the right, ready to knock it away from his goal. It zipped across the table, quicker than before. You were getting into position, anticipating where it would travel to after ricocheting off the side.

But its speed continued, launching the disc over the frame and onto the ground. Instantly you started to laugh, especially tickled by the way his face fell. He was silent as he grabbed the puck from the ground, then he went to the container of Rachel’s dessert.

“Don’t knock it over the side and it won’t be your problem.” You quoted him, deepening your voice in your effort to imitate him.

He frowned as he ate another rum ball, apparently he was struggling just as much as you were to find anything to like about them. He dusted the excess shredded coconut off of his hands before walking back over to the table.

“Hang on. Aren’t you forgetting something here, dude?” You brought up, successfully getting him to pause. “That’s a point to me, four to three- you lose this round. You have to eat another one.”

He complied without any enthusiasm, but you were grinning the whole time. He popped a rum ball into his mouth, chewing it unhappily. He visibly shuddered as he swallowed it, poking his tongue out to further express his distaste.

He had a couple of mouthfuls of water as he returned to his position opposite you. “Alright, get ready to pay for that.”

“Ooo, I’m so scared.” You mocked. “My serve.”

You proceeded through more rounds, wins shared mostly evenly between the two of you. From time-to-time different people came over to watch, Victoria was very excited over the prospect of him losing. Rachel didn’t appear in the room, allowing you to keep torturing one another with her food.

“I think we should call time.” You said before a new round could begin - even though you weren’t sure how long you had spent playing. Time could behave strangely when you were around Damiano. Hours could pass under the guise of minutes, leaving you feeling like you needed more.

“Aw, do you need a break from getting beaten?” He mocked. This façade was immediately dropped. “Actually, I was so close to suggesting that myself. I don’t think I can physically eat one more.”

You looked into the container, your hands held behind your back as you surveyed what remained inside. “We ate at least half- maybe more. She’s got to be pleased with that. I would say we were way more generous than just having a pity nibble.”

“Yeah, but at what cost to ourselves?” He asked, overly solemn.

You agreed that some fresh air was necessary. You could feel how ruddy your cheeks were as you stepped back onto the patio. You considered whether your current state could be categorised as tipsy. You sat down on one of the padded benches, but he didn’t join you.

“I’m gonna get us some water.” He said and you were quickly nodding along to show your support. “And some kind of something to eat to soak up the rum- a bit of it.”

As he was leaving through the door, he passed by Thomas, the guitarist walking in the opposite direction. He came over to where you were sitting on your own, greeting you with a smile.

“Hey, I feel like I’ve barely seen you tonight. Where have you been hiding?” He asked.

“Oh, I was with Damiano.” You said and the way his eyebrows jumped up couldn’t go unnoticed. “We were playing air hockey.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these-days?” He asked, lightly nudging your side with his elbow.

“What? We really were.” You defended, your voice getting a little louder as discomfort trickled in.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that you didn’t meet under the mistletoe, and that’s why you were missing for hours, and why your face is all flushed?”

You didn’t know how to handle your friend’s scepticism at first. “Is there mistletoe? I haven’t seen it.”

“Nice deflection.” He said, still wearing that sly smile.

“I promise you that we were just playing air hockey.” You told him sincerely. “Ask Ethan, he saw us.” Unfortunately for you, the drummer was nowhere in sight. “Or if you wait for, like, a minute, you can ask Damiano himself when he gets back.”

“It’s okay, I’m not genuinely going to call you a liar.” Thomas said, trying a different approach. “I just wouldn’t be surprised if you guys did sneak off to be alone.”

“Really, why?” You asked.

“Sometimes there’s a vibe between the two of you.” He said.

You furrowed your brow - was your secret crush on Damiano a lot less secret than you were aware of? “A vibe between us? What kind of vibe?”

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, a vibe.” Him adding extra emphasis didn’t help you gain any clarity.

“A vibe? Oh good, I was worried you would be vague about it.” You sarcastically quipped.

You didn’t get the chance to get any more information out of him. Instead you were swiftly trying to act inconspicuous as Damiano made his return.

“You’re going to be really happy with me, dude.” He told you, both of his hands were very full. “I found a little stash of dinner rolls for us.”

“Is that to help you get your energy back after all of that air hockey?” Thomas asked, apparently not done with stirring the pot.

“Oh, she was bragging about all of her victories while I was gone, was she?” Damiano asked.

“No.” Thomas said, turning to look at you. “Did you beat him?”

You smirked after being handed a cup of water and a few small bread rolls. “Of course I did.”

“We were pretty even. It’s not like you were wiping the floor with me.” Damiano defended.

“You take my seat, man. I’m gonna go see if I can find that mistletoe.” Thomas said, standing up.

“Mistletoe?” Damiano repeated. “Who do you need that for?”

Thomas patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll hang it above my ass, just for you.”

Damiano grinned. “Hell yeah, I was hoping I would get lucky at this party.”

Instead of responding with another joke, Thomas just shot a look in your direction. You thought the smile on his face was saying more.

But he didn’t cause any trouble for you, waving as he departed. Damiano sat down next to you, apparently oblivious as he bit into a bread roll.

“Thanks for getting the food.” You said after having a gulp of water.

“You’re welcome.” He replied casually. “You know you only got so many wins because you kept topping the puck, right?”

You knew what he was referring to, using the flat bottom of a paddle on top of the puck to halt it, gaining control of its momentum. But you didn’t know why he was bringing it up.

“I was not.” You said.

“Dude, you were.” He said.

“If I was doing that- if- why didn’t you call it out when I was supposedly doing it?” You asked. “I never topped, and you can ask all my exes, they will confirm that fact.”

The words had slipped out of your mouth. Your cheeks immediately filled with a hot blush as you mentally scolded yourself for your lack of impulse control. You blamed the alcohol in your system as you covered your mouth with your fingers. You wished you hadn’t said it, and you didn’t know how to play it off.

His eyes lit up. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You began shaking your head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“What? Why? It’s not like I’m judging you for your position preferences.” He said.

This didn’t help you to stop blushing. Was he thinking about it, or picturing it in any way? You didn’t know what you wanted the answer to be and you were finding it difficult to meet his eye.

“Thanks. It would be pretty awkward if you unfriended me just because I'm a bottom.” You said, finding a way to joke through this.

He laughed. “As if.” You dared to look up at him again. “The reason I'm gonna unfriend you is for you topping the puck.”

“I was not!” You burst out, your indignation making him laugh more. “If you saw it, you should have said something.”

“I'll have to remember it for next time we play.” He said, his laughter stopping. “Oh, I’m an asshole. I totally forgot that you were in the middle of telling me about that friction at work, with what’s-her-name.” He said. “That’s my bad, dude. Did you wanna tell me more about that, her being overbearing as Hell?”

Sumia seemed like a safe topic to move onto - you could get back to how you had been communicating earlier, when you had been at ease, your feelings seemed less unavoidable then.

And your co-worker gave you a lot to vent about.

“I don’t know how much more patience I have for her and her telling me how to manage my team.” You said.

“Why does she think she’s your supervisor?” He asked.

“Beats me. Supervisors make more money, so maybe that’s what she’s angling for.” You said. “It’s like she’s trying to prove that she can do that job, by supposedly helping improve how the lab runs. But there’s no indication that the boss has that kind of promotion to give.”

He had finished eating, crossing one leg over the other towards you. He rested his elbow on the top knee and then held his chin in his hand as he listened to you. “Maybe she’s into manifestation.”

“Maybe she’s a jerk.” You said, grateful when he let this pass without pointing out the immaturity of trying to make this part of your argument. “She’s a shadow, a really terrible shadow. It’s like she’s always waiting for me to slip up. Instead of doing her actual job, she watches for me to do something that she doesn’t agree with slightly, so she can run off and tell everyone I’ve been naughty or something.”

“Well I hope she’s not in touch with Santa.” He said, surprising you out of your train of thought. You cocked your head to the side as you looked at him, too perplexed to speak. “‘Cause naughty girls get punished by Santa, you know.”

The image surged into your mind - too fast and too powerful for you to fend off. Your friend wearing only a Santa hat, calling you naughty. The word punish posed so many possibilities and your mind wanted to explore them, your heart already racing just as your thoughts were.

Your eyes had grown wide and you could feel the revealing blush in your cheeks again. It felt like your mouth was stuck shut as you willed this increasingly-detailed fantasy from your brain.

You didn’t have to be speaking to give him a response he wanted to observe. His eyes remained on your face, watching the changes in your expression - which were beyond your control. A smile was beginning on his mouth as you were scrambling to keep yourself together.

“This isn’t the reaction I was expecting. You’re looking a little shocked.” He said.

“Am I?” You asked and an attempt at clearing your throat brought on some coughing.

“Yeah, why are you acting like this is brand new information?” He asked.

You looked down at your lap, finding the napkin your bread rolls had been resting on was clear, you couldn’t use your food as a distraction. “I’m not trying to act that way.”

“Okay.” He said and when you looked up again, it was to find that he was still wearing his amused smile.

You feared what he might say if you asked what he was smiling about. You wanted to know, but you feared the change it could bring.

You were trying to recall a normal way to act. Maybe you could have found the right thing to say -

- if not for Rachel serving as an interruption, again.

“You guys, oh my God, you ate so many.” She said as she rushed over to where the two of you were sitting. She carried the container and wore a broad smile. “Someone said you were eating them the whole time you were playing air hockey.”

Now that the focus had shifted, you found that your ability to speak normally had mostly returned. You had to protect Rachel’s feelings, and you had to make sure that eating all of those rum balls hadn’t been for nothing. “Did they say anything else?”

“Like what?” She asked, proving how oblivious she was, which ushered in some of the relief that you needed.

Before she could read too much into your question, he was distracting her with compliments - tapping into that charm he had a seemingly endless supply of. “Of course we ate so many, they’re great. I don’t know about her, but it was hard to stop once I started eating them. Maybe all that extra rum made them addictive.”

You nodded along to what he was saying and it was clear that she was buying it as she went on smiling brightly, standing with her shoulders pushed back. The dishonesty was giving her a boost in confidence - could it be such a bad thing?

“I feel a little bad that we had so many before anyone else could really have a chance to try them.” As he spoke, the movement of Thomas coming back onto the patio caught your eye.

“No, I think there’s still enough left.” She said.

“Hey Ray.” He greeted, standing beside her.

She swung her body to face him, presenting him with the selection of dessert she still had. “Hi, have a rum ball?”

“Oh, nice.” He said, his optimism surprising you. Did he think she had purchased them, instead of making them? “I was hoping someone would bring these.”

Damiano grabbed your wrist, each of you watching carefully as Thomas picked out one of the rum balls. There was no way to guess how he would react - he had always been a wild card like that.

He began to eat and it appeared there were no issues. He didn’t wince or frown at all.

“Mmm.” He hummed as he swallowed it down. “That’s good, it isn’t too sweet.”

“That’s exactly what I was going for.” She said, briefly showing Damiano a favourable smile.

Thomas wasn’t dropping the act. Was his poker face stronger than you had realised? He took another of the small spheres, happily eating this as well, not needing to be pressured into doing it.

At the same time, you and Damiano looked at each other. You could already tell that he was thinking the same as you - your unpleasant efforts hadn’t needed to be undertaken at all. While you had been groaning through every mouthful, Thomas would have enjoyed eating Rachel’s dessert, fulfilling her desire to have her cooking validated.

You started laughing first, feeling foolish but not embarrassed. As Damiano continued to look at you, he joined you in fits of laughter. That sense of obligation towards Rachel was evaporating and you kept laughing as even more relief took its place. His hand went from your wrist, now holding your hand. You were united in finding this unexpected outcome ridiculous.

“What are you two laughing about? What could possibly be this funny?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, you know what they’re like, always up to something, that’s their vibe.” Thomas said.

As you tried to get your laughter under control, you shot a glare in Thomas’ direction. But it seemed that Damiano had missed the statement and its potential subtext, he was too busy giggling to notice.

The other two left after a moment and his continued snickering made you want to start up again.

“Dude.” He said through a gasp for air.

“We literally didn’t need to do that, any of it.” You said, smiling as you shook your head. “I’m gonna have rum in my system for weeks. And the whole time, Tom would have eaten them and spared Rachel from heartbreak.”

He was still laughing. “Her Christmas spirit didn’t need us to save it.”

“We are so dumb.”

You properly noticed that he was still holding your hand and you looked at how your fingers fit perfectly with his. He had held your hand before (squeezing through crowded clubs and not wanting to lose track of each other, amongst other instances). You told yourself that this shouldn’t feel any more significant than the other times it had happened. You rejected your own inclination that this was a ‘couple-y’ thing to do.

But you missed his hand in yours as soon as he took it away. He used his fingers to wipe beneath his eyes as he steadily brought his laughter to an end. “That’s my bad, I should have remembered that he eats absolutely anything.”

“Yeah, I thought you guys were supposed to be brothers.” You said.

He looked you in the eye, he had quit laughing, but he was still smiling. “That’s definitely naughty girl behaviour.”

You stared back at him, denying the insistent imagery your mind was all too ready to produce. “What, what are you talking about?” Once again you were trapped under that gaze that seemed to see too much.

“Lying, only naughty girls lie.” He said.

You knew that the way you were holding yourself together would disintegrate further if he said more words. “Can we drop this?”

He playfully pushed you a little further. “Why, do you not like being called that?”

You kept your lips firmly pressed together. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t risk slipping up. It was the opposite of not liking him calling you a naughty girl, but you didn’t know how to make sense of that for yourself. There was no way you could explain it to him.

The teasing smile fixed to his face made you squirm. It differed to the typical way you would make fun of each other. A thought occurred to you - if you kissed him you wouldn’t have to see that smile anymore, you could get a break from its disarming effects.

This situation had shifted and you could feel the control you used to protect yourself under threat. And you weren’t ready to be without it, regardless of how appealing and handsome he was.

You had to fight yourself, and your urges, back, the effort feeling almost physical. But you did it, producing distance between the two of you by getting to your feet.

“I’m gonna go and see if I can find some pudding. I would like to get to the part of this night where I’m eating a dessert I don’t have to pretend to enjoy.” You said. “I’ll see you later, dude.”

“See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.” He said, showing no signs of hurt feelings.

You didn’t hesitate to walk back inside, you needed space and time. You knew that you and your friend could get back to normal before too long. But for the moment you needed solitude, time for the ripples he had created to die out.

*** *** ***

Hey dude. Are you home? I kinda have a favour to ask…

This wasn’t the first time you were hearing from Damiano in the week since the Christmas party. The way you had been communicating could be characterised as normal, the word naughty hadn’t been used once.

But that didn’t mean you had stopped thinking about it. When your brain wasn’t actively engaged with something (work, Pilates), it wandered and a fantasy was unfolding. In your mind’s eye you saw a Santa hat as the concept of punishment produced many ideas. Would it be spanking? Would it be restraints on your body? Would it be more telling you how bad you were?

Your ventures into rough play had been short. Previous partners had treated it as a brief aspect of foreplay, doing as much as it took to turn them on before progressing to the ‘main event’. How much you wanted was usually ignored, but your people-pleasing tendencies kept you from voicing any complaints.

As you imagined going further than you had before, you willed a different face to appear under the Santa hat. You didn’t want it to be your friend. You tried to replace him with Harry Styles, or other celebrities you found sexy. Or a guy that you had gotten a crush on in the four months that you had worked together - what was his name?

But Damiano’s visage always returned to claim ownership of this role. There was a vast catalogue of memories that could be called upon to create a very clear image. You had gone swimming together countless times, you were familiar with what he looked like in nothing but a Speedo. Maybe other people at these group activities didn’t pay as much attention to his body as you did. But you always found something to like.

The fantasy always stirred something deep in your gut. You didn’t hate it, but you didn’t want it in your brain. It could compromise what you had and enjoyed.

You hoped for it to be a phase. It was like getting a song stuck in your head, it couldn’t stay on a loop forever. Sooner or later, your mind would move onto the next.

For now you were doing everything in your power to act normally with him. Surely the actions would impact your mental state, taking you back to a place of feeling normal (and in control).

Tell me what the favour is first. Maybe I’m not sure if I’m home yet.

You considered the words before hitting the send icon. Typically you gave messages a pre-send proofread to make sure there were no embarrassing spelling errors.

This was different: you were checking for anything that could be misconstrued or turned into innuendo. You had to conceal the swirl in your mind, picking up the implications that came with him reaching out to you so late at night. Why was he thinking about you past 11PM? Was it too much of a stretch to think he might be having difficulty falling asleep in a way that was linked to you? All of these theories had to be kept to yourself.

Haha. I’ll see you in about 20. He responded.

You stared at the screen of your mobile phone, feeling like you were on the way to becoming out of your depth. Hold up! You still haven’t told me what the favour is yet.

There was a brief pause (time for you to squirm on your sofa and tap your fingernails on the phone’s case) before you received his next message. I ran out of wrapping paper. None of the stores are open this late. & I’m driving to see my family tomorrow afternoon.

Running out of wrapping paper on Christmas Eve sounded like a stressful situation to be stranded in. It wasn’t a problem for you to worry about - you had packaged up your final purchase earlier in the week. You were the perfect person to rescue him and he was especially grateful when you confirmed that you could help him out.

From the highest platform of his cat tree, Iggy watched you sit up on the couch. You halted the renovation show that you had been watching, now motivated to get to your feet.

With the purpose of his visit so obviously platonic, it would have been odd to try to impress him, too much effort put into your appearance would be a waste. But you didn’t want to look like crap either. You went into the bathroom because brushing your teeth seemed like the best place to start. As you did this, you considered your reflection. The pyjamas you were wearing weren’t covered in any kind of embarrassing print and the robe you wore didn’t have gross stains on it.

You looked casual and comfortable. This wouldn’t be the first time he had seen you in your pyjamas. They were hardly glamorous or sexy, but they were you: the friend that he knew he could rely on.

After brushing your hair, you gathered the supplies he would need to get the gifts ready for his family. You placed all of this on the coffee table.

Instead of sitting on the sofa to await his arrival, you headed in the direction of your bedroom. You had just decided that putting a bra on was a good idea.

Suddenly Iggy was done with his lazing about. Your cat went sprinting past you, needing to get to the bedroom before you, for some unknown reason.

He had just disappeared out of your sight when you heard a knocking on the door. You would have to face Damiano without a bra, as your cat maintained his anti-social way of life.

You opened the door and couldn’t help laughing at what you found waiting for you. Damiano was dressed up - wearing an elf costume, complete with a hat and a green shirt that had a bright red collar. In one hand he carried a large fabric sack, it seemed a bit extra to transport his family’s gifts like this. But maybe he was this level of dedicated to the joke.

He smiled, seeming pleased with your reaction. “Are you going to let me in, or just stand there laughing at me?”

You moved to the side, still laughing as he came inside. “I’m sorry, but seriously, what are you wearing? Did you guys have some kind of themed Christmas show? Because I do not remember you mentioning that.” There was a bell at the tip of his green hat and it made a merry little sound with every step he took. “Or is this a service that you provide to the community every year? You put this costume on and you go door-to-door spreading the festive spirit?”

Once he had reached the lounge room, he stopped walking, turning to face you and you could see he was still smiling. “No, you’re the only one I’m seeing.”

“Okay. Well, can the elf wrap the presents himself? Or was he expecting me to help ‘cause I’m good with ribbons?” You asked.

“I lied about needing wrapping paper.” He said.

“Huh? Why would you do that?” You asked, more confused than upset by the deception.

“It was the only excuse I could come up with to come and see you. I needed to see you.” He said, his tone more serious than you had been expecting of a man dressed in a novelty T-shirt.

“What on Earth is going on?” You asked. You were trying to pick up clues from his expression, but you weren’t sure you had seen him like this before.

“Okay. So, part of this thing is that I wanted to give you a good laugh. I know how stressful your job has been lately and I know that you’ll be spending Christmas alone.” He said and it was flattering to know how well he listened to you, even when you were just talking about your parents going to England to spend the holiday with your little sister. “I figured you could use a little extra merriment, from an external source. And it seems like I accomplished that, awesome.”

“Yeah, you have.” You said. “What’s the other part to this?”

He paused to set the sack down on the floor and take a deep breath. “Don’t feel any pressure to respond in a certain way. I’m gonna be honest with you and I just want you to be honest back.”

“Okay.” You said - you were too confused to joke with him in any way. Your brain was so preoccupied that you had stopped noticing the silly hat and shirt.

“I want you.” He said.

The monumental statement wasn’t followed up by any laughter, keeping the sincerity present.

“I don’t mean to surprise you with this. But it kind of surprised me.” He said, happy to fill the silence as you remained too stunned to speak. “It started at the Christmas party-... well, maybe that’s not fully true. I guess I’ve thought about you, us, a couple of times. But it changed, it got more serious after the party.

“I was genuinely joking with that naughty girl stuff, ‘cause that’s what we do, lightening the mood and all that. But the way you reacted… I would have to be blind to not see that. You were having thoughts about it that went beyond a joke, maybe feelings, too.

“A lot of people think you’re shy, I’ve seen new people come into the group with that perception of you. And by extension of that, you seem innocent.” He said. “But I don’t think you’re what you appear to be. Your reaction makes me think that you like being called names and you like being put in your place, in a very un-innocent way.

“And thinking about you like that you got me all worked up. And I’ve barely been able to get it out of my head. So I thought we could bring our ideas of what Santa would do with a naughty girl together, and see what we like best.” He said and he picked up the sack, bringing it to sit in front of his feet. “I have my bag of tricks and I have a role that you could play, if you’re interested…”

He paused, looking down as he drew in a deep breath. “And if you’re not… I completely respect that. I will just go away, I might hit up Rachel’s place on the way home and see if she has any rum that she can share, so then I can drink this embarrassing moment out of my brain.”

“She’s not gonna have it. There isn’t a single drop left anywhere in Italy because she used it all.” You said, smiling. “They’re rushing to import more from the West Indies, but that would take a couple of weeks to get here.”

He met your gaze again, smiling as well. You supposed that he was waiting for you to say something.

You powered through the trepidation, endeavouring to meet him in the middle. You had to act on your feelings, denying them hadn’t gotten you anything good.

You walked the short distance that separated the two of you. The way he was looking at you added to the certainty you felt, able to combat the nerves. You were filled with adrenaline and the concept of stopping didn’t feel possible.

You placed yourself directly in front of him. You stepped over the sack with one foot as you raised both of your hands to his face. You cradled his cheeks in your hands, wondering if you had ever before been able to truly appreciate all of the beautiful features of his face at the same time like this. He was familiar, but changed enough to provide new excitement.

You expressed these different feelings by kissing him. And putting your lips to his felt immediately good, not that level of awkwardness a first kiss could hold. You weren’t making adjustments, nothing needed to be changed.

After a moment (perhaps giving you a window of time to change your mind and back out of this whole thing) he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your heart was fluttering as you tasted more-and-more of his top lip, the pleasing scent of his cologne adding to this. One of your hands travelled up, moving into his soft hair, enjoying what wasn’t trapped under the obnoxious hat.

You parted very slightly, your nose still resting against his as you tried to somewhat catch your breath. “Naughty girls get punished by Santa.” You said, not needing to pause to recall these words that had been ever-present in your mind since first hearing him say it.

“That’s right.” He said.

“Then how come you’re dressed as an elf?” You asked, teasing.

He laughed lightly, which you joined in on. “This was what I had at home. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” You said. “I don’t see it bothering me for long. Everything’s gonna come off of your body soon.”

He was grinning. “Are we-... do you really wanna do this?”

You caressed his cheek. “Yes, I’ve hardly been able to stop thinking about it too. But this isn’t the only time I’ve thought about you like this. Not to sound like a high schooler, but I’ve got a crush on you.”

“And you never told me?” He asked, the tips of his fingers playing at the spot under your chin. “Keeping secrets is more naughty girl behaviour.”

“It sounds like there’s a lot of things you could punish me over.” You said, the adrenaline keeping you from being too shy to say something like this. You could inhabit this character and speak your truth without overthinking every single word.

“Have you ever been punished before?” He asked, his tone less flirty.

“No, but I wanna be.” You said.

He gave you a brief kiss before taking a small step back. “We need to start with boundaries because I don’t wanna do anything that interrupts your fun. I’m not going to do this with you unless we do it the right way.” You nodded along, even though you didn’t fully understand what was expected of you yet. “Do you have any strict no’s?”

You couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated. Usually it took a few dates for you to get into this kind of kinky conversation, but you had only kissed this guy a couple of times.

“Uhm, I'm not a big fan of anal. If this is something you’re into, I’m sorry, but I don’t like calling people Daddy…”

“That’s totally fine.” He said. “Do you have a safe word?”

“No.”

“Well, have a think about it.” He said. “I don’t mean to make it sound intimidating. If there’s something you don’t want to do, you just have to tell me.”

You made an attempt at looking more confident, pushing your shoulders back slightly. “I’m not intimi-...” He compelled you back towards honesty without any words, a glance was all it took. “I’ll let you know.” In his silence, you noticed how the smile on his face was growing. “What, why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something funny?”

“No, there’s nothing funny. You’re just really adorable right now.” He said. “And I’m not used to seeing you like this. I like watching you squirm, it’s not how you usually act around me and it’s not just so fucking cute. It also gives me inspiration, it makes me want to do other things to see what else makes you squirm.”

“I’m squirming?” You asked, all of these movements had been happening involuntarily, they didn’t feel significant to you.

He had walked over closer to you again. “Yes and I’m getting a little obsessed with it.”

“I bet you could show me all new ways to squirm.” You said.

“Only if you're a good girl…”

You were smiling as he put his fingers under your chin, guiding you to tilt your head back so he could capture your mouth with a kiss. There was safety and excitement in the way he wrapped his arms around you. You didn’t resist this rush for one second, letting your lips part at the first touch of his tongue because you wanted to indulge deeper.

Before you could find that perfect rhythm with him, he was bringing the kiss to a gentle end. You waited to feel his lips again as his breath continued to caress your face.

When you opened your eyes, you found that he wasn’t moving in for another kiss. Instead he was carefully studying your face, seemingly unwilling to overlook a single feature. For the first time in your life, you felt like you understood what it meant to be admired.

“I'm more turned on than intimidated.” You wanted to clarify.

“And I intend to keep it like that.” He said as he smiled. “Do you wanna go into the bedroom?”

“Uh-huh, I really want to.”

He picked up the holiday-themed bag and you began down the short hallway.

The epiphany came to you as you were walking and you immediately spun around, needing to share the thought.

“Grinch.” You stated.

He stared at you, waiting for it to be his turn to talk. “I’m gonna need some sliver of context before I can get to be as happy about this word as you are.”

“What if we make Grinch the safe word?” You asked. “Or is that a bit too obvious and uninspired?”

“Of course we can use that. Good work, baby.” He said.

The way that he sounded so pleased added an extra spring in your step as you continued toward the bedroom. Earning his approval was having an effect on you.

And you definitely liked the sound of him calling you baby. It was so different from the way he would usually address you, joking as he called you dude. This rolled off his tongue giving you some intriguing feelings, which you didn’t feel compelled to run from. Your old reactions wouldn’t suffice in this brand new scenario.

Once you were standing in the illuminated bedroom you turned to face him, and he was instantly upon you. It seemed that none of the toys he had brought were breakable, with him paying no attention to how the sack landed after he had tossed it in the direction of your bed. You were more than willing to be distracted from this, getting swept up in more of his exciting kisses. He put his hands to either side of your face, holding you in exactly the place he wanted. You wrapped your arms around his middle, feeling the acceleration past the point of no return - you could not walk it back from here.

You savoured how it felt to explore beyond the typical with him. His lips left yours, travelling downwards. As he continued gracing your skin with kisses, he tilted his head and the bell attached to his hat jingled. It was almost funny how out of place it was, failing to add anything to the established mood.

But you didn’t want to laugh and you didn’t want to hear anymore of it. You grabbed for the cap’s tail, the bell ringing again as you pulled the hat off of his head. His mouth was discovering your neck as you tossed the accessory away, hearing the jingle for the last time. Your hands moved into his hair, the soft strands gliding between your fingers. His slow kisses moved across more of your neck. You wondered if he would leave marks, they would be exciting to wear.

He paused before getting too much lower. “I can’t get to any of the fun bits, you’re so bundled-up.”

You scoffed. “It’s winter and it’s nighttime. What were you expecting, should I be lying around my apartment in lacy lingerie and high heels?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“You should be lying around in absolutely nothing.” He said.

“I guess that I’m gonna be the first present you unwrap this year.” You said.

He smiled and returned his lips to yours. But the distraction of getting you out of your clothes soon took priority. You saw the enthusiasm on his face as he undid the tie of your fuzzy bathrobe. He didn’t take his time, moving consistently quickly to remove your layered comfortable clothing.

Your skin formed goosebumps as you became more exposed. But this wasn’t in response to the low temperature that had seen you grab for so much covering. This was the anticipation, which was also keeping a blush in your cheeks.

You didn’t feel judged as his eyes took in all of the details of your naked body. You knew that your safety with him wasn’t at risk.

He began to experience your body beyond sight, and the touch of his hands brought to your attention just how sensitive you were. A caress to the small of your back brought warmth into your gut. The way he gave your hip an affectionate squeeze made you notice a tremble in your knees.

For the moment you had entirely forgotten about his sack, you definitely weren’t trying to guess at which sex toys were inside. You were feeling like a toy yourself, being played with. He was gently exploring you, getting a hint of your features that lay beneath the surface.

His fingers continued to trail all over your bare skin and you saw the tantalising sparkle in his eyes before he gave you some more kisses. You wrapped your arms around his middle, low enough that you could slip your hands under the hem of his festively foolish shirt. Now it was your turn for fingers to trail as you appreciated his skin differently to ever before.

You followed your inclination to experience more of this, aware of your greed rising. One of your hands travelled up his back, while the other pulled the hem up because you were wondering how it would feel to have your bare skin pressed against his. It was a very inviting idea and you continued to gradually raise the bottom of his shirt.

His fingers caressed your cheeks as the kiss reached a gradual conclusion. “Are you feeling a bit eager? Don’t get too distracted now, you’re the one getting unwrapped here, babe.”

“What? I’m just trying to make it more even, is that so bad?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t classify impatience as a good girl quality.” He said with just the right amount of sternness in his voice.

You played along, pouting your bottom lip out a little. “You’re gonna make my punishment harder ‘cause I don’t like to wait?”

“Your punishment will be as harsh as you want it.”

“As harsh as you want.” You corrected.

“I have something that could be a counter to that impatience before you get too unruly.” He said.

“Alright, I trust you.”

It seemed that this was the right answer because it earned you some more kisses. As you soaked up the heat from his body, he slightly altered the way he was holding you. One of his hands reached lower to the back of your thigh and his arm tightened around your waist. Squeezing you close to him, he manipulated your body until both of your feet were leaving the ground.

This gave you a different type of rush. You had never been carried by a partner like this before. You clung to him as your eagerness continued to run rampant through your system, unwilling to forfeit its dominance. The muscles on his arms that you had noticed a fair amount of times weren’t just for show, he held you steady. He took careful steps, moving blindly as his focus went to continuing to kiss you.

He made it to the bed with barely a falter of his grip. The momentum changed and you were moved away from his body, his hands guiding you elsewhere. Your butt reached the mattress first as your eyes started to flutter open.

He was in the ideal spot directly in front of you for no more than a second. Then he was turning away, fetching the bag he had brought to delight you with. You regained your balance, trying to anticipate what he was about to show you, even though there were no visual clues. Judging by what he had said, you expected some form of restraints - but which style would he favour? Fuzzy handcuffs would go with the novelty of a Santa sack. Or did he prefer the precision and care of tying you up manually?

Amongst the other items in the sack, he found one, showing it to you as he walked over again. You were pleased to be proven correct by the sight of handcuffs, his thumb hooked through one of the shut loops. These weren’t novelty items, there were two thick cuffs that appeared to be made of leather. Despite the cute stars printed across them, you knew they would be strong enough to hold you.

“Would you like to veto these?” He asked. “And there isn’t a limit on your vetoes, you can use as many as you need.”

You were shaking your head before he had finished speaking. You weren’t very interested in ruling things out - you had already decided that you wanted to show off how much you could take. You were attached to the idea of impressing him.

Your eyes went to his other hand, which held the bag, its shape distorted by the items it still held. “It’s pretty obvious you didn’t just come over here with some cuffs. What’s left in that sack, what else did you bring?”

He smiled without a hint of bashfulness. “I think you’re probably better off asking what I didn’t bring.”

He wasn’t about to show you his entire hand yet. Instead of upending the bag, he reached in to collect something else currently out of your sight. A subtle crease came into his brow as he briefly concentrated. Before you could offer any assistance, he achieved his goal and showed you two of his fingers brightly decorated. They were unique finger puppets, but they weren’t entirely unfamiliar to you. You leaned forward, eyes greedily studying the little protruding bumps and ridges.

“Oh, I used to own stuff like that, I know how they work.” You said.

He didn’t let this deflate him or take away from his presentation at all. “You know all about them, huh?” You nodded, still feeling some self-confidence. “But have you had someone use them on you?” You stopped nodding. “‘Cause that can really change the experience. Do you want me to demonstrate that?”

You weren’t intimidated, feeling like you weren’t entirely out of your depth yet allowed you to stay possessed by intrigue. “Uh-huh.”

The cuffs and the remaining contents of the bag were ignored for the moment. He came in close again and you were relieved to not have to wait for the next kiss. You shut your eyes and drew your desires purely from his mouth.

You could have gotten distracted by this, still learning the little techniques that his kisses possessed. But before you could fully forget about the accessories placed on his fingers, you were feeling the rubber toy stroking down your chest. It dragged across your skin differently to his bare touch and you were hotly anticipating where you might feel the other toy.

The second stimulator got your attention when he flicked it against one of your hardened nipples. You couldn’t help flinching, bringing laughter from him, even as he continued to kiss you. The sound was muffled by your mouths, dying out as you pictured that cocky grin on his face.

He began to trail his fingers (both covered and not) down one side of your body. This whisper of a touch left you with goosebumps. He moved his hand up-and-down, applying pressure with the toys in a kind of massage, the slow patterns were so attentive. At the same time his tongue was pushing into the small space between your lips, easing them further apart. The exploration of his tongue paired perfectly with the caresses of his hands, one on either side of your body now.

You squeezed your thighs together when you felt him firmly grab your hips, almost pinching. Then he rubbed and clenched his fingers, rubbed and clenched. You couldn’t help lifting your hips a little, keen to press more of yourself against him. His tongue kept playing against the roof of your mouth, encouraging you further.

“I like the way you’re squirming under me.” He said. “I can tell this good girl is enjoying herself already, hm?”

“Mm-hmm.” You responded.

His hands moved lower than your hips, the toys pushing against your skin. The movement held your focus. He went to your ass, holding it in his hands, fingers extending and massaging this area. It seemed to you that he was truly trying to learn your body, giving you the sense that this was so much more than a fleeting interest and you let yourself get more excited, writhing a bit more frequently now.

When you opened your eyes it was to find him watching you, something of a smile still on his face as your reactions intrigued him. He noticed you looking and smiled a bit wider. His hands were now dragging up-and-down, going from the top of your butt to the tops of your thighs.

“I’m not used to having a knowledge advantage like this. You’re so clever, so quick, so tuned in, you always know more than me. Not in a cocky, or arrogant way- that’s never been you. But you’re a smart, smart girl, and maybe this is an area where I’m ‘smarter’, so I think I might savour how this feels.” He said. “Having all the control as I show you something new, surprise you a little.”

“That means you’re gonna stretch this teasing out, aren’t you?” You asked.

“Is that not what you want, baby?” He asked with a teasing grin now on his face.

“I need to work on my patience. And I just want to know if it will be worth it.” You said.

“Of course it will be worth it. If you can earn it: you’re going to get a big reward.” He said. “And I don’t really wanna rush something I’ve waited so long for.”

“Waited, what do you mean?” You asked.

“All of the times you’ve popped into my head and I’ve wondered if it would only work as a quick fantasy… what’s that expression, if I had a dollar for every time?”

“You would have a lot of dollars?” You offered.

“Precisely.” He said. “Naturally my smart girl knew what I was talking about straight away.”

You wondered if he would be able to give you a more specific amount of this metaphorical money - you made a note to hold this question for later.

For now you were just concentrating on kissing him, his mouth covering yours again. His expectations were present in your mind, but they couldn’t intimidate you, not while you were preoccupied by how right everything felt. One kiss melted into another, a perfectly correct rhythm.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your thigh, the fingers splayed out in a purposeful grasp. He began to ease your legs apart.

Your concentration instantly sharpened when his covered fingers got to the area typically covered by your panties. You wrapped an arm around his neck, needing a hint of steadiness. He rubbed and massaged at your pubic mound, the pressure enticing you. You noticed how much blood was pumping into this area - all before he had made any contact with your labia majora. He was warming your body up inch-by-inch and it was splendid.

You felt the want pooling in your cunt as he started to work over your labia. He took his time to caress these folds, the rubber fingers gliding over your pubic hairs. It was a nice increase of intimacy, keeping you on track of hoping for what his next move would feel like.

He broke the kiss and you saw how he was grinning, his tongue dragging over his top row of teeth. “Isn’t that so much fun, so much more fun than just playing on your own?” He asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

It seemed he wasn’t done with making you wait. Instead of going forward, he took his fingers away and it was only the cool air touching your pussy.

But you didn’t relax, expecting more and wanting to be prepared.

You kept your eyes shut for the moment. You weren’t motivated to open them until he spoke again and he had straightened up, some distance between your bodies as he returned his hands to the sack of supplies.

“So you’ve met this kind of toy before, how about this? How familiar are you with this?” He asked, showing you a larger object.

“Oh, a wand. Of course I’ve used one of those before.” You said.

His hand went back into the sack. “Alright, I’m gonna need something to help me surprise you, then.” He produced an eye mask, which bore the same star pattern you had seen on the handcuffs. “Do you want to veto this?”

“No, but, well, I mean, not veto, but…” His eyebrows raised as you stumbled over your words. “I’m not against the blindfold, but am I really not gonna get to see you? You get to see me totally naked, but I’m not gonna see anything?”

“Just for a little while…” He said and he wore a smile as he came closer with the eye mask. “God, you’re adorable when you’re pouting like that. Don’t worry, kitten, you will get to see me naked, I’m here to tease you, not subject you to cruel deprivation.” He eased the mask over the top of your head, not pulling it any lower than your eyebrows for now. “My plan is actually for you to get sick of the sight of me naked.”

You smiled at this obvious joke. “Why would that be your goal? That would take a whole lot of nakedness.”

“Exactly.” He said. “What’s your definitive verdict for the blindfold?”

“I’m okay with it. That's the same stars as the…”

“Uh-huh, it goes with the cuffs. Actually it’s from a four-piece set. It also came with this…” He left the mask not blocking any of your view, his focus going back to the bag. He pulled out a small, flexible-looking paddle. Its body was decorated with the same solid white stars.

Then he showed you another item, which carried on the star motif on its thick straps. These adjustable straps were short and attached to a modestly sized ball. You knew exactly where that solid sphere was supposed to go, and it truly intimidated you.

“A ball-gag?” You asked, wondering how you could stall for a little time.

“Yeah, we don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. Personally, it’s not my favourite. But I brought it along anyway because I’m here to explore your favourites, and we’re gonna do that without judgement, one hundred percent.”

“I don’t need it.” You said.

“Cool, let’s just…” He trailed off, stopping himself mid-gesture. “I was gonna throw this to the side, but I don’t want your boy to come along and think it’s a toy for him and get at it.”

“Iggy’s scared of everyone, you’re literally not gonna see him at all.” You said of your cat.

The ball-gag returned into the sack and you felt better for it. He opened the velcro of one of the handcuffs. You straightened your arm and he wrapped the band around your wrist, then pressed the two ends together. You were smiling as you offered your other wrist to him.

“I’m proud of you for using a veto.” He said as he got the second cuff secured.

“Oh, thanks.” You said, not entirely sure how to respond to this unexpected compliment. Was it sexy to him that you had said no? You supposed that one veto wasn’t going to place many limitations on him, the bag in his hand still heavy with possibilities.

He kissed you, his fingers brushing up against the sides of your face. You lifted your hands, the chain giving a little rattle to remind you of your restrictions as you extended your arms. You held onto his shirt as his tongue massaged against your lips.

You felt something soft pressing against the top of your face. When he eased away, you opened your eyes to only see the dark fabric of the eye mask. You continued to hold onto his shirt as you waited for his kiss. You knew that it would anchor you through the rushing emotions and uncertainty.

A new but quiet sound got your curiosity as soon as you heard it. This proceeded you feeling the vibrations of the massaging wand, its rounded head pushed into the soft area beneath your belly button. At the same time, he leaned his body into yours. You had the sense that he was close enough to kiss, but it didn’t come.

“Lay back.” He said.

You instantly leaned away, your body blindly seeking out the bed. “So stern. Yes, sir.”

His lips crashed against yours before you were laid out. He was setting a lustful pace, faster than before.

Your back reached the bed, with him lying on top of you. The pressure from his weight was wonderful, further adding to the concept that he was fully in charge.

You had stopped noticing the mechanical humming of the magic wand. But it was brought back to your attention when he applied the stimulating bulb to your pubic mound. Your heart launched into your throat and you were breathlessly trying to keep up with his rushed kisses.

“It’s better like this, hm? It’s less intimidating for you, right?” He asked in a low voice. “Because you’re not trying to read my expression, you aren’t worrying about where I’m looking. You don’t have to wear the blindfold for the whole night, but it’s got its advantages.”

“I’m seeing that.” You said before giving a giggle. “Well, not seeing in the literal sense, but you know what I mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re still maintaining that knowledge advantage.” You said.

“And loving every second of it.” He said. “Raise your hands up above your head.” It wasn’t a request. At the same time you were feeling the vibrating toy moving lower, in a drawn-out manner.

“Yes, sir.” You said, making this adjustment.

In the same second that you had finished speaking, he swiftly delivered the vibrator to your clitoral hood. This opened you up to an excitement greater than before and you couldn’t help squirming as his body kept you pinned down. The vibrations titillated you, awakening nerves, even at this low setting.

His lips going to one of your nipples brought a choked sob from your mouth. He began to suck and the intensity perfectly matched the vibrations, creating a fire in your gut. You saw stars, but these weren’t the same as what was printed on the fabric. These little stars were appearing and glowing prettily in your imagination.

He transferred to the other nipple and increased the toy’s pulsations. He kept it against your clit, set on this as the best location.

When he gradually moved his mouth down lower, he also took the sex toy to a lower spot. Now its smooth head nestled between where your puffy lips usually concealed your entrance. The pressure he utilised had you feeling the consistent vibrations in your labia minora, an intensity you needed more than a moment to adjust to.

The desire reached deeper into you, rocking you on a greater level as his lips massaged across your skin. You were amazed by how much effort he was putting into your experience, working so hard for your pleasure. His lips trailed onto your belly as he stepped the vibrations up to the next mode.

You felt his lips parting so he could flit his tongue on your skin from time-to-time. And as you rode the sensations higher, more sounds fell from your mouth. Containing them felt entirely beyond your control and your face coloured with more pink as he heard every honest reaction.

He adjusted how his weight rested, lying his body on your legs as he progressed to kissing beneath your waistline. Your hands went to the pillow, gripping it as a means of supporting yourself as you anticipated what might be next.

The surprise was more than you could fathom when your clit was encapsulated by unique vibrations. Your mouth opened but no words came out as your brain struggled to make sense of what you were experiencing. The massage on your clitoral hood existed independent of the work of the stimulating wand, which he was continuing to hold at your entrance. This didn’t deliver the moisture from his lips, and you could still feel those on your belly, anyway.

You didn’t know what created the sensation, but you did know that you liked it. You watched the unreal stars growing, completely blind to anything else as your mind focused on the present.

“There’s the surprise I wanted.” He said, the stimulants persisting at the two spots on your crotch.

“Oh, uh-huh.” You gasped as your back arched.

“And have I found a toy you aren’t familiar with?” He asked, his tone a little gloating.

“I think so.” You said, slowly adjusting to this unrelenting intensity.

You guessed that he was no longer within kissing range, now his voice seemed to be coming from a spot close to your hip. It wasn’t much of a leap to presume he was getting a close-up view of how your pussy was reacting to his treatment.

“This fun little tool is a clit sucker.” He said as the pulsations continued to engulf the hood.

“I definitely don’t need to use a veto for that.” You said.

He chuckled. “That’s good baby, that’s really good.”

He took the wand away from your pussy. You weren’t sure where it was relocated to, you just took the opportunity to concentrate fully on what was happening to your clitoral hood.

When the pulsations came in harder, you could only guess how much he had turned it up by. Were there more powerful levels he intended to use on you?

It didn’t feel the exact same as having a pair of lips sucking on your sensitive peak. But it felt wonderful in its own way, consistently getting you more excited, until your toes started to curl.

All of a sudden there was an external heat at your entrance, with him pressing a kiss onto your pussy lips. Your heart skipped a few beats and you awaited more.

It didn’t take long for him to initiate another kiss, then another - more-and-more until it felt like he was making out with your entrance. He sampled how your desires tasted with some swipes of his tongue. All the while he kept the active toy sucker on your clit.

His tongue began moving into you, prompting your thighs to quiver and shake. More noises began to swell up in your chest and you bit into your lower lip, feeling unwilling to fully share them. He lapped in deeper, and greedy (yet incoherent) whines came from you, barely muffled. You sucked on your lip as great chunks fell out of your composure.

“Hey, hang on…” He said once his lips were detached from your cunt. “No, no, no, don’t hurt that pretty lip.”

You stopped what you were doing before you had fully understood what he said. You lifted your head from the pillow, momentarily forgetting that the eye mask blocked your vision.

“That’s my lip to bite on, to suck, to play with- I’m gonna be the reason it’s swollen tomorrow, okay?” He said. You hoped that your continuing wiggling wouldn’t be perceived as you not listening (something worth punishment). You simply couldn’t hold yourself still, not while the sucking device was working its magic. You nodded your head to prove that you were paying attention, trying your best to behave.

“If you really need something to bite down on…”

“Not the ball-gag.” You said quickly.

“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of bringing it back.” He instantly reassured you. “Here, bite on this if you need to.”

Something flat nudged against your lip and you complied by opening your mouth. Your mouth was only partially filled. As you shut it, the confusion left you, he had given you the flexible paddle to set your teeth into. Or at least that was what you guessed it to be. You could comfortably close your lips around it, keeping it in place without his assistance.

“Is that good?” He asked and you gave him the only answer you could of nodding your head. “And what about this?”

He seemed to refocus on how he was holding the sucking device to your clit, bringing it closer so that you could feel its pulsations with complete consistency again. Appreciatively your hips bucked up, which made the toy’s power all the more apparent. The makeshift-gag muffled your whimper.

“Yeah, that’s good for you, huh?” He asked. “And this is probably even better.”

He turned the vibrations up and your jaw clenched, your teeth locking onto the paddle. You raised your bound hands up to your face as you felt yourself getting lost for the moment. The intensity was huge, making you feel like all of your senses were being overwhelmed. How could you grasp for even a shred of composure in your current state?

He parted the device from your clitoris and it felt like you could come back to yourself a little. The breaths you drew were shaky, but they were full.

Then his tongue returned to your cunt. This slower stimulation felt like exactly what you needed, with him lapping appreciatively at the moisture. You lowered your hands and stopped gritting your teeth against the paddle as you started to settle into this sensation.

He slowly dragged his tongue up to your clitoral hood. You blindly reached your hands out, placing them on his head with your fingers exploring the soft strands of hair. Your lungs filled with more (needed) air as he gently drew circles around your sensitive nub.

Before you could get too invested in this progression, the intensity sharply increased with the reintroduction of the sucking device. You gave a dramatic twitch beneath him.

The thrilling vibrations were taking you back to that place with no thoughts and limited control. The quivering in your thighs was soon accompanied by the thrusting of your hips. They moved according to their own rhythm, just trying to make use of all of this feverish excitement. It accelerated the effects of the device.

But you didn’t find the ideal pacing, because the device was taken away too soon. This void was filled by his mouth before too long. As he worked his tongue and lips on your clit, you decided that this felt better than the device - this was the sublime experience of having your clit sucked.

The toy couldn’t replicate this perfectly. But when he switched it back, you still found plenty to enjoy of how it treated your clitoral hood, keeping your mind blissfully blank. It was a solid consolation, you couldn’t deny how titillating its vibrations were.

He kept switching from one to the other, your clit consistently stimulated and the tingles this brought to your body only grew more pronounced. You gave in more with each switch, beginning to see each as your path to orgasm.

But he never quite let you get that high. You spat the paddle out of your mouth, letting him hear your noises louder, in the hopes this would persuade him to allow you to ride this excitement to its logical end.

You pumped your hips, patience wavering as you tried to match him, tried to find the essential synergy. Your hands in his hair curled into unthreatening fists, gripping as more of your desperation showcased itself.

“Sir…” You whimpered, hoping you had found the cheat code to make him give you exactly what you wanted.

He applied more pressure with his tongue as he repeatedly worked it up-and-down against your clitoral hood. In response you lifted your ass higher off the bed. Your pussy was brought flush to his face as he seemed focused on working your clit in this promising way. His hand grabbed your butt as you delivered thrust after thrust into his face. The stars in your eyes got even brighter as it began to feel like your body was floating. A powerful fire burnt in your gut, with involuntary sounds falling from your mouth (you were too enchanted to feel self-conscious over whether the sounds were to his liking or not).

Your next noise was a loud and mournful moan when he took his mouth off of you. You kept your hands in his hair, even as your arms shook. The seconds without feeling anything from him seemed to stretch out.

“Please, don’t stop.” You said as he kept you waiting.

“Oh, so you’re not a fan of edging?” He asked, his tone so casual.

“I can’t say that I am.” You said, squirming in your wet-thighed anticipation.

“But the noises you’re making are just so nice, so so sexy, can you really blame me for wanting to savour them? I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you like this.” He said.

You huffed, trying to find the winning approach as you pouted again. “But-but don’t you wanna know how I’ll sound when I come? Aren’t you curious about hearing that noise?”

He caressed your ass now, still not giving you what felt as essential as oxygen. “I suppose that’s the noise I really want to hear. But I didn’t know that you wanted to come.”

“Damiano.” You substituted the curse words populating your brain for his name.

“What?” He asked, playing at being oblivious. “How am I supposed to know what you want unless you tell me?”

“Is that what this is about, you’ve been waiting for me to say it?” You asked.

“Uh-huh. I wanna hear you say exactly what you want. I wanna hear your dirty talk.” He said.

You shifted your legs, feeling a seed of insecurity over the possibility of doing this wrong. You wanted to sound sexy for him - but did you know how?

“Don’t overthink it.” He told you, demonstrating a superior intuition of what you could be thinking thanks to how long he had known you. “Just say what you want, that’s all I’m looking for.”

“Well, I wanna… I wanna come.” You said, feeling like you were stating the absolute obvious.

His fingers caressed your butt and it was the only thing that you had to hold onto.

“Uh-huh, and who’s gonna make you come?” He asked.

“You. I want you to make me come.” You said, before rushing to add. “Please.”

“Good girl.” He said. “How do you want me to make you come?”

Fingers playing in his hair, you considered making a joke. You could poke fun at him by saying that it was more than dirty talk he was after: he was going to have you write an essay of how you wanted to achieve an orgasm before he actually made it happen.

You wet your lips as you let this half-baked idea go. You chose to not get distracted. “I want your lips and your tongue.”

“Want them to do what?” He prompted.

“Please, I want you to use them on my pussy to make me come.” You said, too impatient to feel embarrassed over saying something so explicit. “Please.”

This proved to be what he needed to hear. Without a further word, he returned his mouth to your pussy, satisfying the way you burnt to feel more.

He didn’t come at you with any of the toys (both known and not). Instead he was finding his own rhythm with just his mouth and you let out an appreciative moan. Your hands rested on the back of his head as you got drunk on how these wonderful sensations were building. He kept one of his hands on your ass, a secure hold that was matched by the way he gripped at the top of your thigh, maintaining the distance between your legs that he wanted.

He created something of a seal around your clitoral hood with his lips, then applied his tongue to it. He played with the peak, seeing how far he could push it and experimenting with your responses to different patterns. You could focus on every swirl, no stops or toys to interrupt the flow. It was simpler than before, but it was such an effective way of blowing your mind.

He moved his tongue up-and-down consistently, not letting his mouth slip even slightly. The pressure was fantastic and you capitalised on this by thrusting your hips, driving your pussy into his face again. Your hands gripped his hair, needing him to stay where he was.

It didn’t matter how hard or fast you grinded, his mouth never failed you. You felt your chest hollowing and it seemed that you became smaller, so easily dwarfed by the immense pleasure.

Your breaths were marked by little whimpers as the effort took more-and-more from you. But you knew it would be worth it, getting blinded by the imaginary stars.

He made a slurping sound as he worked to keep the moisture in his mouth. The suck that corresponded with this brought a tremendous quake through your core.

You were irrevocably overpowered, levitating off of the bed further than before. Your fingers gripped onto his hair as you began to greet that lovely edge.

“Yes.” You whined, feeling how good it was to let everything go. “Oh my God, yes.”

You began to come undone, getting lost entirely.

There was an unexpected spike, the pleasure hitting a new level when he reintroduced the wand vibrator. You felt the pulsations in your clitoris as your pussy enjoyed the climax.

It was a spectacular explosion, the aftershocks still racing through you even after the vibrator was taken away. You didn’t know how to pull yourself back together, but for now you didn’t care.

The brightness of the room came back to your attention before you had opened your eyes. He had pushed the eye mask out of the way, allowing the light to push against your eyelids. The corners of your lips started to lift into a smile.

“Feeling that extra merriment now?” He asked before his lips captured yours for a moment.

“So much.” You said. “The merriest ever.”

“But I haven’t finished showing you all the surprises in my sack.” He said.

“And you still haven’t taken that silly costume off.” You said.

“It’s part of my character and it’s effective.” He said in his own defence before he seemingly had a realisation. He sat back on his knees and reached for the bottom of the green shirt. “But I guess it has served its purpose.”

He discarded the shirt and you were finally given the luxury of your eyes exploring his torso with little to no shyness. You could study like you never had before, really fixating on the details. You could notice and be enticed by everything that you saw.

You were grateful when he didn’t hesitate to take his jeans down. But just watching wasn’t enough to satisfy the desires swirling through you.

You extended your arms out. But before your hands could reach the waistband of his briefs, he stopped you by grabbing the chain that connected your handcuffs. He gave you a stern, but not disapproving, look as he used the chain to direct your hands closer to your chest.

“You haven’t learnt how to be patient yet?” He asked and you instantly identified this as a challenge.

It wasn’t a challenge you could ignore. “I guess I haven’t fully grasped the concept.”

You saw his eyes flicker, but the movement that corresponded with it was too quick for you to see. Instead of seeing him pick up the paddle, you felt its return to the scene.

He slapped the flat object against the side of your thigh, instantly compelling you to ditch any further challenges. Your breath hitched as you felt your leg heat and sting. You were caught off-guard by this sensation, needing to pause to figure out your own reaction.

His eyes were on your face, he was holding the paddle up, his arm tensed as if to strike again. But he didn’t follow through. At first you were reminded of a video that was buffering.

Then you realised he was waiting for your consent. And you gave it. You licked your lips as you turned your hips a little, presenting him with more thigh, and even some butt, to spank. You kept your hands to yourself, lying on your chest in what seemed like a safe zone.

The next slap from the paddle surprised you less, now you knew how to register the feeling. You liked it, hoping your skin would glow pink in a way that would please him.

There were no words coming to mind because the seconds between each spank were filled by you trying to prepare for the next. Then when it came, your mind went totally blank. As the sting radiated out, you began the climb of anticipation again. Your body was filling with tension, growing more intense. But you held onto the faith that he would be able to resolve all of it.

Another satisfying slap filled the quiet in the room. You heard his heavy breathing as more heat filled into the raised side of your butt. You still weren’t feeling pain from the continuing spanks, it was a sharp sensation and each time it cut through absolutely everything else. Your enjoyment was only increasing.

He pulled his arm back and your eyes fluttered shut as you awaited the next strike. Instead, he spoke. “Do you feel like having another try at behaving correctly?” He placed the paddle against your ass, resting it against the curve. “Or would you rather be a naughty girl?” Your need to be cheeky had definitely dulled. “There’s something I really want to show you from my sack. But I’m not about to share it with a naughty girl.”

“I’ll be good.” You said. “I’ll be very good, sir.”

He smiled, starting to lean down. Before his mouth could meet yours, he gave you another slap from the paddle. You couldn’t help flinching but you loved how it felt, settling into the feeling as he kissed you again. You let out a little whimper, your hands going to his hot pectorals.

Before you could get too accustomed to how his bare skin felt on yours, he pulled away. He ditched the paddle as he stood up.

He brought a small, slim box out of the sack. He moved too quickly for you to properly gain all of the details from the box. The device that came from it wasn’t familiar. It was matte black, probably made of silicone. It had two thin prongs, which kind of resembled legs, coming together at a compact disc. You kept your eyes on it, willing clarity to come.

He set it down on the bed, beside your leg, then proceeded to get something new from the bag. This next thing was far more straight-forward - a box of condoms. He collected one of the packaged items before getting back to taking his pants off. As soon as they were lowered, he took his underwear down as well. There was no missing how keen he was - immediately the stiffness of his dick confirmed that you had succeeded in turning him on.

There was a portion of yourself that felt self-conscious for wanting his cock so much. But overwhelmingly, you felt excited. All of the lust that had been developing now had a place to land.

He started at the tip, covering it then unrolling the latex further. As you watched this motion, you thought about what it would be like to experience his dick for the first time purely through taste. It was an intriguing and enticing fantasy, it didn’t seem farfetched to assume he would greatly enjoy it too, continuing your seduction.

But then you realised he didn’t want you to have any thoughts at all. At once you tried to empty your mind.

When he picked the tong-esque item up, you noticed a second, detached disc, but he held this in the palm of his hand, downplaying any significance.

“Did I bring another surprise?” He asked.

“Yeah, I have no idea what that is. I might be able to guess what it does.”

“You can guess, if you wanna. Or I could tell you and explain it. Or I could show you.” He said, entertained even in this in-between moment.

“Show me, please sir.” The answer seemed so obvious to you.

He grinned as he climbed up, placing his knees on the bed. “I really like it when you call me that.”

“Then I guess I have no choice but to keep saying it.”

Remaining above you, he placed the new device on you, its legs reaching toward your mound. At first you felt only the faint hint of its weight and nothing else.

Then he pressed a button on the tiny remote in his hand, and the disc on your lower tummy silently began to vibrate. It wasn’t too intense straight away, but it was enough to make you smile. He dragged it closer to your cunt and you worked to not squirm in your anticipation. You looked from the strangely-shaped device to his face - naturally he was still smiling, as his eyes glittered.

“But what do these little legs do?” He asked the question that was on your mind.

He picked the toy up and showed you how the prongs could be repositioned, bending them with little to no resistance. He curved them to face opposite directions and you were doing a lot of thinking trying to figure out the advantages of this. Was it supposed to go inside of you? It looked too thin, but you guessed the capability to hit two different angles at once had a lot of potential.

“Uh-huh, and what’s the point of that?” He asked.

He answered by taking the toy down, towards his dick as he changed the bend in the legs again. He placed it over his length, the connecting disc at the top. He gave the legs another repositioning twist, one at a time wrapping them around his cock, close to the base. He got this adjustable cock ring how he wanted, the ends of the legs crossed over at his balls.

“That’s a great surprise.” You said, showing him that you were less confused.

“You like looking at it, wait until you feel it. Wait until this pad is vibrating against your clit while I’m fucking you so deep.” He said.

Your legs were already spread, it was hard to know how much longer you would be able to hold yourself back. “Show me, sir?”

This earned you the proximity that came with making out. You lifted your arms out of the way, passing the cuff’s chain over his head. You rested your hands at the base of his neck as his body pressed so perfectly on top of yours. You settled into one another, lips working together as the synergy kept strengthening.

With no hesitation, you moved deeper into the lust. Your thighs clung to his hips as his tongue tasted and played with your bottom lip. Your tensed body wanted to melt for him more than anything.

He sucked on your lip as he started to sink down into you, accepted by your thoroughly-primed pussy. You identified this as the best sensation of the night, instantly superior to the toys, and definitely worth waiting for. Your fingers curled, grasping for his hair as you stretched to accommodate him further.

His body settled on top of you, fitting in between your legs. This closeness brought even more excitement - you already knew that he would be able to take you to another stunning peak. He had more energy to give to your pleasure.

Rather than seeking the greatest penetration at once, he gave you time to adjust. He was going to build to the moment of overwhelming you. For now he tested his range of movement, pumping his hips so you could feel the potential of what he could do with his shaft.

Gradually he worked himself deeper. You couldn’t help imposing little breaks between kisses as the pressure increased inside of you.

It wasn’t long before you gave up from trying to keep up with his mouth altogether, a parting suck applied to your lip before you leaned your head slightly back. You decided to give your attention to moving your hips, attempting to match his affectionate pace.

Before you could truly sync yourself to him, the vibrating toy collided with you, surprising you momentarily beyond comprehension. Your hips dramatically jutted up as your mind slowly began to catch up. You shook as you adjusted to this new intensity.

It seemed your vulnerability was clear because he paused to ask. “Are you okay, bella? Is it too much?”

You arched your back to press into him, smiling. “Oh, it’s good. It’s really fucking good.”

“You don’t need your safe word?” He asked, still not moving.

“Absolutely not.” You said.

You opened your eyes and lifted your head in the pursuit of capturing his lips in a kiss. It didn't matter how short on breath you were feeling, you prioritised cultivating your connection with these excited kisses.

You also drove your hips forward, craving the beginnings of friction. He stopped hesitating and grabbed your butt as he gave you a push, moving in deeper. You couldn’t help whimpering as he delivered another thrust.

He swiftly and confidently took the lead - it made you want to call him sir repeatedly.

With each pump from him, you had begun to feel the silicone legs of the toy wrapped around his dick. You felt the smooth material rubbing against your pussy, but you had yet to register the vibrations (not that you felt you needed it).

You rested your head in the curve of his neck, unable to keep up with his kisses. But you were managing to stay with the pacing of his hips. You met every strike, lengthening each motion and giving you even more to enjoy. His energy was matching and coming together with yours as it had so many times over the past two years - but in a brand new way, more intense than you would have associated with him.

This was the most important mutual goal you had ever worked toward with him. You stuck with him, even as the threat of getting overwhelmed crept in again.

As everything wanted to shatter around you, he remained your constant. Listening to his raspy breaths kept you from getting entirely lost. Your short nails pressed into his skin and your nostrils were filled with the enticing scent of his sweat mixed with cologne. You didn’t care about anything beyond his body.

The tender massage between your inner-walls got even deeper, touching at a depth his tongue hadn’t reached. It brought the stars back to your shut eyes, but they were so much bigger and brighter now.

“Fuck.” You exclaimed in response to feeling the vibrations on your clit again.

Your gut clenched as you rode this sensation higher. He let you enjoy this stimulation, not rocking back according to the earlier pacing. Your cunt fluttered and spasmed around him. This prompted some cuss words from him too.

He writhed against you, barely pulling his hips away. Instead he completed some quasi-thrusts, seeing what else could be gained from this closeness.

When he returned to full motion, it was absolutely electric. The quick touches of the vibrator to your clitoral hood were enough to keep you reeling.

The perfect synergy of your bodies soon brought you back to the edge. Little ecstatic cries began to fall from your lips.

“Yes, uh yes, yes-yes.” You stammered as you failed to meet more than a few of his bucks.

He kissed across your forehead, something so affectionate was in direct contrast with the frantic rhythm of his body. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Hearing that wholesome phrase was so unexpected that it felt out of place and you couldn’t help but laugh. This noise transformed quickly into an audibly strangled breath as he plunged all the way in again.

There was no composure left for you to regain. Even as he adopted slow and shorter strokes, you were helplessly overstimulated.

He put his hands to your sides, a determined hold. He kept his hips pressed against yours as he grinded into you repeatedly. The vibrator was directly on your clit, the pulsations were ready to devastate you.

“It feels like you’re ready to come.” He said. “Are you?”

The prospect of him edging you again occurred to you, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist before you answered. (You didn’t know how you would cope if he put you through more of that.) “Yes, yes sir, I am.”

He spared you any further teasing, he didn’t retract. He stayed close, quickly snapping his hips. He whimpered as he kept working his tip on your sensitive walls.

You held him tighter (your cunt clenching too), giving yourself up to the pressure that just kept rising. Your hips stuttered at their own tempo, there was no rhyme or reason to it, simply moving to express some of your excitement. He didn’t correct this behaviour, letting you continue as everything began to come together.

Your gut tightened and you had to bite your lip to stop the loudest noises from getting free. He moaned your name over the consistent sound of your skin slapping together.

“Oh, fuck. I think I’m…” His pitch changed and you noticed how he had begun to be plagued by tremors. “Yeah, I’m gonna come, like right now.”

You were holding onto his taut shoulders as you opened your eyes. As he remained in motion, you saw the look of concentration on his face. Instantly you were enthralled by the idea of seeing him become complete, as you were on the threshold of.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Yeah. Oh yes, yes, yes.” He said, his eyes squeezed shut as he kept rubbing into that deepest part of you. “Yes, yes, fuckin’ yes.”

You wanted to watch him driving to that point of perfection. But the relentless pulsing against your clitoris was stealing your focus, insisting that you fall apart. The fluttering of your eyelids became harder to fight against.

There was a powerful moan that was swelling in your throat as he suddenly became rigid. He pressed against you firmly, loudly trying and failing to catch his breath. You felt how he shivered on top of you, demonstrating less control than any other point of the night.

The pressure caused by having him so close (and deep), with the vibrating disc still on your clitoris, was enough to take you over the edge. Your pussy clenched around his shaft as the orgasm dawned throughout your entire body. Biting your lip wasn’t enough to stifle the cries that your revelation brought out. You were stunned on every possible level.

Even once the vibrator’s massage was over, and he had pulled out, you still felt like you were on the verge of breaking apart again. Moving was beyond your capabilities right now and you thought it would be easier to fall asleep than recover.

“Oh my God.” You gasped when upon opening your eyes, your vision filled with him. The reality of this situation was beginning to settle in, things were clearer now.

“You alright?” He asked as he moved closer to free your wrists from the restraints.

“Uh-huh, I don’t feel like I need to say Grinch, still.” You said.

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you, but you really did pick the dorkiest possible safe word.” He said, wearing a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes and pulled up the top of the blanket. “It suits you, then.” This earned you a laugh from him. Before you could slip into the old and familiar teasing, you stayed tapped into this vulnerability. “You’re gonna stay, right?”

He smiled as he finished removing the cuffs, then he swept in to kiss you. “Of course, I would love nothing more than to stay with you, bella.”

As his fingers caressed your cheeks, you kissed him. This led to another, then another, at a slower pace than before because you knew you didn’t need to rush. This was an affectionate yet lazy continuation of your intimacy.

It didn’t develop into anything more, he simply laid down with you. You wrapped your arms around him, the two of you sharing looks that lingered longer than what you would have classified as normal.

You didn’t need to ask him to move his limbs, he hadn’t positioned himself in a way that had brought you any discomfort. You liked the way his arms fit around your waist. You didn’t need to put any of your clothes back on, this embrace had you feeling warm enough.

He broke the silence, speaking softly and at the sound of that you didn’t feel like you needed to prepare any witty retorts. “Thank you for trusting me. This was one of the biggest gambles of my life, and I feel lucky that you were willing to go along with it.”

“I’m glad I could maintain my unbroken streak of always going along with your ideas.” You said, able to see the smile he wore even in the limited lighting. “You mean the world to me, I’m always gonna trust you.”

Maybe more could have been said - there wasn’t a finite amount of emotions to be told. But the silence didn’t bother you. You didn’t feel obligated to speak: to win him over or otherwise make this moment. You were so content, running your fingers through his hair until sleep arrived.

*** *** ***

You began hearing a consistent tinkling, fun and non-abrasive, but persistent enough to keep you from falling asleep again. You didn’t open your eyes, trying to determine the source without seeing it. You were floating in the daze of not yet awake, the world covered by a kind of fuzziness. You rolled onto your side, yet to realise that Damiano was missing from your bed.

Your thoughts were clearing up as you continued to listen to the jingling. As you readjusted the warm blanket over your bare form, you recognised this gentle, non-rhythmic music. You had heard it very recently, even though it wasn’t a regular fixture in your home.

It was the silly bell from the elf hat. You were certain of this, opening your eyes at once. You lifted your head from the pillow, too curious to resist now. You looked around, trying to gain as much information from the room as possible.

You found Damiano was sitting on the carpet and he had the novelty hat in hand, jostling the fabric so that the bell would dance in the air. It was shaking and bobbing directly in front of your cat.

Seeing Iggy was the last thing you needed to drag yourself fully out of sleep. You hadn’t expected to see this, but he looked completely at ease. In the two years that you had owned him, he had never played with anyone but you. In all of his visits to your home, Damiano had only managed to briefly pet the cat, with Iggy always maintaining his strict disinterest in outsiders.

But now he was playing, seemingly totally invested. He sat so close to Damiano’s legs, those predatory eyes fixed on the silver bell. Damiano swung it close to Iggy and he picked up both of his front feet to swipe at it. The whole time, Damiano was beaming, so clearly enjoying this brand new experience.

“I don’t believe it…” You said, keeping your voice low to avoid startling your cat.

Damiano kept the hat in motion as he looked at you. “Crazy, huh? I guess he finally decided that I’m not his enemy. I didn’t even need to use any catnip to bribe him into this.”

“It’s a legitimate Christmas miracle.” You said. Reflecting back on how Iggy had shunned the attention of all of your past partners, this didn’t seem like an exaggeration to say.

“I know, right?” He said. “He was sitting there looking at it on the ground when I woke up. And I thought he would run away as soon as I got out of bed.” His words were accompanied by the music of the bell, which you were coming to enjoy more. “But…”

His face fell when Iggy began to walk away, unhurriedly going to the opened door. “Oh, now he’s leaving.” Iggy didn’t look back, disappearing without a sound. “He’s done with me, I guess.”

“Bye, sweetie.” You called after your pet.

“Damn, I miss him already.” He said sadly.

You couldn’t stop smiling. “He hates everyone.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m better than those other nobodies. That’s just how it is.”

You giggled. “You’re still naked.”

He got up on his knees, walking his way toward the bed in this fashion. “So are you. We’re just hanging out, naked.”

“I like it.” You said, sitting up higher as he got closer to you.

“Yeah, me too.” He said.

He reached the side of the bed, just slightly beneath eye-level. He leaned in, his eyes going to your lips as you put your hands on either side of his face. You kissed him, slowly, enjoying this indulgence just as you had last night.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, keeping his face close to yours.

“I’m good.”

“Yeah? You haven’t got any sore spots that I need to kiss better?” He asked.

You pushed one of your hands up the nape of his neck, into his hair. “Nuh-uh, no spore spots, no regrets.”

“That’s fantastic, babe.” He said before moving in for more kisses.

You managed to drag your tongue along the line where his lips met, before he eased back. You were left with building cravings.

“I’ve been awake for a little while, and I’ve had time to check Santa’s sack. It appears that there’s still something in there for you, one more thing.” He said.

“Oh, but it’s too early to be calling me a naughty girl. At least, I think it’s too early.” You realised that you hadn’t seen any form of clock, or even glanced at the window.

“This isn’t something for a naughty girl.” He said. “This is a gift.”

“Well in that case: gimme!” You said enthusiastically.

He laughed as he got up, going over to where the sack had been sitting overnight. He picked out an item that was wrapped in festive paper. You smiled, ready to love it, even with no inclination of what it might be. He handed it to you, taking a seat at the edge of the bed with you.

“I hope you like it.” He said as you started tearing away the wrapping.

“I have no doubt that it’s going to be amazing.”

Beneath the paper, you found a sleeve of protective bubble wrap. In here was your gift, a rectangular photo frame. You recognised the series of small photos from a photo booth at the cinema you usually visited. The five photos showed you and Damiano, side-by-side, making various faces for the different photos. You hadn’t seen these photos for two years, you had no idea he still had them.

“Oh wow, this is from forever ago.” You said, seeing how happy the two of you appeared.

“Yeah, do you remember this? It’s from when you dragged me to that midnight screening.” He said.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by how he was attempting to rewrite history. “I just said that I wondered what those were like, how the vibes were. And you said you would try it with me for Endgame’s premiere. There was no dragging involved.” You jabbed your pointer finger into the air before he had a chance to cut you off. “And it definitely wasn’t my fault that you fell asleep less than halfway through the movie.”

“I had been touring for months. It’s a miracle that I didn’t fall asleep while we were taking these photos.” He said. “I thought you might like to have these, like a time capsule of us being nerdy together.”

“I love it. I’m gonna put it somewhere that I’ll see it every day.” You said. “Just looking at it, it’s like I can feel how much fun we had that night… before you fell asleep.”

He eased your unruly hair back from your face. “You are really cute when you’re telling me that I’m wrong, did you know that?”

There was the beginning of a blush in your cheeks as you looked at him. “I know now.”

With a smile, you closed the distance between your bodies with a kiss. His arm slipped around you. You didn’t feel like you had sacrificed any of the significance of the friendship showcased in these old photos. Nothing needed to be lost on the path to this new level.

“If you check under my tree, you’ll find there’s a gift for you there.” You told him.

He grinned. “Really? You always get me the best gifts.��

“Why don’t you go get it?” You asked.

“I was thinking that I would open it later.” He said. “Like when I’m opening other presents with my family. And maybe you could be there too?”

“You want me to spend Christmas with your family?” You asked, thoroughly surprised.

“Don’t you think that would be better than spending the day alone? There’s no racist or otherwise weird uncles to ruin the vibe. My dad is a really great cook. And I’ll drive. And I don’t have to introduce you as anything more than my best friend if it feels too early for that.” He said.

Your heart had started fluttering as you listened to him. Now you picked up one of his hands, squeezing it as you found another of his appealing ideas to go along with. “What time do we need to leave?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

#more friends references than you can poke a stick at!!!#an xmas fic in may? sue me #damiano david x you #damiano x reader #damiano david x reader #maneskin fic #maneskin x reader #maneskin smut #maneskin fanfiction

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