Dinner at Fiorello’s by Rick R. Reed

Author:Rick R. Reed
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2015-04-24T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

VITO IS barely awake when he turns in the darkness, wrapping his arms around Kevin and aligning his chest with Kevin’s spine. He smiles, eyes not open, as he feels Kevin’s smooth, satiny chest beneath his fingertips and runs them playfully across Kevin’s nipples, which they jokingly refer to as pencil erasers.

Kevin stirs at his touch and pushes his ass against Vito’s hardening cock. They both sigh into the darkness, and the heat from their bodies beneath the quilt is like a warm cocoon. It’s as though they are the only people in the world.

Vito thinks about spitting into his hand, lubing up his cock, and sliding slowly into Kevin, being careful to take it easy, although his body is telling him otherwise—his body urges him to be fast, brutal, and selfish.

But it’s late, the middle of the night, and Vito knows that, in spite of Kevin’s murmurs that connote pleasure, he is not awake.

A more physical connection, penetration, can wait until they’re both consciously present, until morning’s light creeps in through the slatted wooden blinds at their window. Vito contents himself with burying his face in Kevin’s blond hair, the faint tea tree oil aroma of his shampoo. For now, this is good, this spooning, and Vito drifts back off to sleep.

When he awakens again, Vito has turned on his other side, away from Kevin. It is still the depth of the night, where darkness reigns, and even here, in the beating heart of the city, it’s quiet, most of the world lost in slumber.

All except for one little boy, whom Vito hears cry out in his sleep, “Daddy!”

Little Sal has been prone to nightmares lately.

Vito gets up quietly, careful not to wake Kevin, and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He places his feet on the floor. Cold.

“Daddy!” Sal cries again, and Vito hurries to stand.

He rushes from the room, taking care only to open and close the bedroom door slowly, so as not to wake Kevin. Quick down the hall and then he is in Sal’s room. It’s dim in there, but there’s more light because of the Bert and Ernie night-light. Vito thinks the little boy likes the duo because they remind him of his two dads.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and runs a hand across Sal’s forehead, which is warm but not hot, and tangles his fingers in the boy’s dark curls, so like Vito’s own.

“What’s the matter? Bad dream?”

Sal nods.

“You need some water?”

Sal nods again. Vito gets up and goes into the kitchen, turns on the tap, and runs it until the water gets cold. He fills a glass and brings it back.

“There you go. Don’t spill.”

Sal gulps the water down and, with two hands, gives the glass back to his father. He sits up a little more in the bed.

“Bad dream?” Vito asks again.

“The very baddest.”

Vito scoots closer to his son on the bed, pulling his legs up and wrapping an arm around Sal’s shoulders. “Wanna tell me about it?”

In a voice much too old for a little boy, Sal says, “There was a car.

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