(Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief (27 page)

When Antonio didn’t speak, Cary said, “What do you—”

“Touch yourself, caro. Pretend it’s me touching you.”

Cary swallowed hard. He felt his heart pound against his ribs and took a deep breath to steady himself.

“And don’t come until I tell you to,” Antonio added as the ghost of a smile danced on his lips.

“Okay.” Cary’s voice sounded rough to his own ears as he took his cock in his hands and began to stroke it.

Antonio unbuttoned his own shirt. It fell open to reveal his chest, and he reached up to his neck and began to stroke the skin there with his fingers in a slow, sensual pattern. Cary blew air from between his lips and swallowed again. “God, Tonino, you're going to make me come like—”

“You can't come until I tell you to,” Antonio reminded him. He was smiling outright now.

“I think you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“You’re the one who said I should tell you what I want. And right now, I want to hear you, caro. But I don’t want you to talk.”

It wasn’t as though Cary had to try very hard to make a sound. He’d practically been panting up until that moment. So when Antonio undid the fly of his pants and reached beneath the fabric, Cary didn’t even try to stifle his moan.

Antonio was obviously pleased, because he began to stroke himself, matching Cary’s movements. “Come closer,” he said. “Onto the bed. But stay at the end of it, and keep touching yourself.”

Cary complied, kneeling at the end of the bed. He ached, wanting to come but knowing he wouldn’t, not without Antonio’s permission. It was hotter, he realized, than the bar had ever been, denying himself like this.

Antonio shimmied out of his pants, so he was now as naked as Cary. Without looking away, Antonio reached into the drawer at the bedside and pulled out the bottle of lube they kept there. He shoved a pillow under his hips, emptied a good amount of the lube on his hand, tossed the bottle onto the other pillow, and covered himself with the slippery liquid. His left hand strayed back beneath himself, and Cary gasped audibly in response.

“So fucking sexy…,” Cary hissed.

“I want you to fuck me.” Cary realized he must have frozen in place at these words, because Antonio just laughed and reminded him, “You’re supposed to be touching yourself.”

“You… you…,” Cary stammered. “You want…?”

“I want you to fuck me.” Antonio’s expression was full of heat. Cary had no doubt his lover wanted this. Even more of a surprise: Cary wanted it too.

“Oh hell, yes.” In the year and a half they’d been together, Cary had never topped. It wasn’t as if Antonio never offered, but Cary had always been more comfortable with their traditional roles when making love. Until now.

“Then get over here and show me you want it.”

Cary didn’t hesitate. As Antonio continued to stroke himself, Cary traced his fingers over Antonio’s chest and downward, behind Antonio’s cock, and pressed a finger inside Antonio’s hole.

“
Ti voglio scopare
.” Cary’s voice was a low rumble.
I want to fuck you.
He’d heard the words before, but he’d never spoken them himself. He worked a second finger inside as Antonio kept pulling and fisting himself, then added his own hand to Antonio’s. He could see the struggle on Antonio’s face—he wanted to come, but he, too, would wait. “So fucking hot….” English, this time, as Cary’s Italian failed him.

“That’s it,” Antonio encouraged Cary. “More. Harder.” Cary fucked Antonio with three fingers now.

“You’re so tight.” Cary’s voice sounded like a growl to his own ears.

“It’s been a while.” Antonio’s laugh became a moan. “Fuck me now, caro. I want you inside.”

Cary pushed Antonio’s legs up and pressed his cock to Antonio’s entrance, pausing there just a moment so he could see Antonio’s face.

“Do it. Fuck me.”

Cary pushed inside and felt the tight muscles clench around him. He looked at Antonio again.

“Do it,” Antonio repeated.

This time, Cary didn’t stop but pressed himself inward until he was seated deep inside. He had to stop and catch his breath—Antonio hadn’t given him permission to come yet, he reminded himself. It was almost more than he could bear. He was so turned on. He guessed that Antonio was nearly as close as he, because he, too, was still, his expression one of focus and concentration.

“Move,” Antonio commanded after a moment.

“You feel so good around me, so warm,” Cary murmured as he slowly pulled out, then pushed back in. “But I don’t think I can last long. I—”

“Then come, when you’re ready. And tell me when you’re coming so I can come too.”

Cary didn’t need any more encouragement. He moved faster now, letting himself go at last. He leaned forward so that their cheeks touched. He felt the hint of stubble on Antonio’s cheek and heard Antonio’s panted breaths close to his ear. “Caro,” Antonio moaned. “Oh, caro.”

“I’m coming,” Cary said as he held fast to Antonio’s legs and felt his thighs burn with effort. “It feels so fucking good. God, Tonino!” He felt the spasm run from his body to Antonio’s as both of them clung to each other, shuddering, shaking, panting. He released his grip just long enough to free Antonio’s legs, then fell on top of him, the sweat and come hot between them. Their breaths, at first ragged, relaxed and slowed, but they held each other still. Cary didn’t want to let go, and he guessed Antonio felt the same. At some point, Cary drifted off, feeling safe and warm against his lover’s body.

“
W
HAT made you decide?” Antonio asked as he held Cary in his arms an hour later.

They had showered and ended up back in bed, pressed up against each other. The feel of Antonio’s naked body against his made Cary’s heart warm. He’d never felt so safe. So
sure
. Even the ache in his heart—the pain of impending loss when John returned home—was bearable now.

“To stay here?”

“Yes.”

“It’s all the kid’s fault,” Cary said with a chuckle.

“How’s that?”

“I kept on thinking, ‘How can I leave when I promised Massi I’d stay?’”

“For someone who hates kids,” Antonio pointed out, “you seem to care for him a great deal.”

“I couldn’t do it to him.” Cary found it hard to choke out the words. “I know I’m not his father, but I couldn’t do it. Not after what Justin and I went through.” Then he added, in a whisper, “And I couldn’t do it to you. Or us.
T'i voglio
,
Tonino
.
T’amo
.
Sempre
.”

I want you. I love you. Always.

“B
YE
-
BYE
!”
Massimo shouted in English from his perch on Cary’s shoulders. “Have a safe trip!”

John Redding waved back from his place in line at security.

“Will he come back, Cary?” Massi asked, once more speaking in Italian.

“Would you like that, Stinker?”

Cary looked up to see Massimo nodding happily. The kid was really getting too big for this, but Cary didn’t mind that his shoulders would be sore later on—Cary knew it would be too soon that Massimo would be too big to carry. He’d savor this moment, as he’d done so many the past few weeks.

“Maybe. But we’ll see him in July, remember?”

Massimo bent down so that his nose was pressed against Cary’s face. “I wouldn’t forget
that
! Papà says we’re going to the top of the Empire State Building, and we’ll go to a zoo in Central Park, and a big,
big
toy store—bigger than anything here in Italy.” He continued on happily as they walked out of the terminal and into the bright sunshine of a spring day.

In the end, John had taken Cary’s rejection better than Cary had expected. Maybe he had seen the determination in Cary’s eyes, or maybe he was simply too tired to argue. Either way, John had not pressed the issue, although he had carefully avoided Antonio his last day in Milan. It had been a relief for Cary that Antonio had a meeting scheduled and couldn’t come to the airport to see John off. It would be better, he told himself, if things had time to quiet down a bit between John and Antonio. Knowing Antonio as he did, Cary had no doubt the trip to New York in the summer would be fine.

It’s good
, thought Cary as he brushed away the sadness at having said goodbye to John.
It’s all good.

Chapter 24

T
HE
M
ORE
T
HINGS
C
HANGE

Milan, Italy—November

“
…
T
ANTI auguri
, Massi,
Tanti auguri a te!
”

The sound of singing greeted Cary as he peered through the door of their apartment. From where he stood, he saw Francesca at the edge of the living room, and he put a single finger to his lips. She smiled and nodded ever so slightly to acknowledge him, then winked.

“Massi, caro, there’s another gift for you,” she said. Massimo’s face lit up, and she pointed to the door. “It’s there, but you have to go get it.” She gave him a gentle push in the direction of the entrance.

“I don’t see anything—”

“Happy birthday, Massi!” Cary shouted as he opened the door wide. Massimo ran up to him and jumped into his arms, causing Cary to stumble a bit. “Oh, good Lord, you’re getting big!”

“Cary Papà! Papà said you were in Amsterdam until tomorrow night.”

“I took an earlier flight. I didn’t want to miss your eighth birthday.”

Massimo got back on his feet and trotted happily back to the dining room, shouting, “Papà! Papà! Cary is home!”

“Welcome back,” Antonio said, planting a kiss on Cary’s lips and following Massimo back toward the table. Roberta had begun to cut the cake she’d baked for the occasion, a strawberry torte which made Cary’s mouth water. “I’m glad you were able to make it.”

“We wrapped up the recording last night. I pushed them a little. The engineer was pretty pissed until someone told him why I needed to leave this morning. Then he pushed them all harder. Turns out he’s got a four-year-old daughter he doesn’t get to see enough.”

“Here’s your cake, Cary!” Massimo pushed a plate into his hands.

“What? We don’t get to give you your birthday present first?” Cary looked at Antonio and smiled. They had been planning this for months, and Cary had finally found what he’d been looking for in Amsterdam.

“But Papà already gave me a present.” Massimo studied them both with suspicion.

“This gift is from both of us. Something your dad and I want you to have. Something really special.” Cary turned and walked back out to the front hallway, where he had left his suitcase.

Two children dashed by them, nearly colliding with Antonio, who laughed and suggested, “Maybe we should go into your bedroom, Massi.”

Massi’s eyes widened. “It must be really,
really
special.”

Cary nodded solemnly and winked at Antonio so Massimo would see. Massimo clapped his hands and was seated on the small bed in his room a few moments later, fidgeting in anticipation.

Cary set the oblong package down on the bed. The wrapping at the edges had begun to rip but had survived the airplane otherwise intact. Massimo didn’t care; he tore into the wrapping with his usual enthusiasm and looked back up at the two men with a questioning look.

“Go ahead, Stinker,” Cary prodded. “Open it.”

“But, it looks like…,” Massimo began.

“Open it, Massi. It’s yours.” Antonio took Cary’s hand in his; the joy in those blue eyes made Cary’s heart swell.

Massi ran his small hand tentatively over the case, pausing at the handle, then moving on to touch the closure in the center and the two silver latches on either side. He flipped one latch and then the next, then tried the center one. It was locked.

“Here, Stinker. You might need this.” Cary handed Massimo a small key, which Massimo fit into the lock and turned, releasing the mechanism. He pushed the small button to the side of the lock, and the case opened with an audible
click
.

“Oh… oh… oh,” Massimo mouthed as he lifted the red crushed velvet cover and gently held up the violin. “It’s… it’s so… cool!”

Massimo had been asking for a violin for more than a year, but seeing how delicately he handled the instrument now, Cary knew Antonio had been right when he’d said they should wait.

“Go ahead, Massi,” he said. “You know what to do. Remember what Alex taught you.”

Massimo nodded and put the violin back down, then retrieved the bow from its well, tightened it, then found the cake of rosin in one of the compartments on the bottom. He gingerly ran the horsehair over the rosin until Cary nodded; then he replaced the rosin and picked up the violin and put it under his chin. His eyes widened as he felt the instrument against his skin.

“It fits me!” he shouted. “Not big like Alex’s.”

“It’s a half-size violin,” Cary explained. He wouldn’t tell Massimo it had taken him more than six months to track down a good European instrument. There had been plenty of inexpensive Chinese-made fiddles available, but he had wanted this to be special.