Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 21, Right after the Tremblay update, POV Bellini

*

Tonight, madness reigned in the Casa Santa Marta.

Well…

Bellini’s gaze wandered through the cafeteria. If he were honest, madness was quite an understatement for what was happening all around. More than twenty curial officials drank the evening away whilst reading an explicit fanfiction about Tremblay and his literal hand.

With Tremblay sitting in their midst.

With Goffredo sitting next to him, so close that not even a sheet of paper fitted between them.

Bellini ran his hand over his skull, drowning in the warmth Goffredo’s body emitted.

It was… Well, it was something.

For the moment, Bellini had to ignore it; forced himself to ignore it whilst his eyes drifted across the individual tables.  

Was the way the other curial officials sat with each other an indication of how close they were? For two tables it was absolutely true: within days, he and Goffredo had become inseparable (Goffredo’s hand resting on his thigh, discreetly hidden underneath the table spoke volumes about that) and it was also true for Tremblay, Woźniak, and Father Kenechuckwu, even though he had no idea how Engall (the man Lawrence always referred to Miller because he failed to remember the poor fellow’s name) was involved with the three of them. But what did that mean for Sabbadin and De Carranza (who wasn’t even gay like everyone else loitering around) and Mandorff and van Deym? Or rather, what did that mean for O’Malley, who obviously pined for Lawrence, but surely got no chance with him now that Lawrence was about getting laid by—

“BINGO!” It echoed right into his ear.

Bellini did not react, still stuck on solving the riddle of who got laid by whom.

Goffredo elbowed him into the side whilst his other hand remained comfortably on his thigh. “Aldo, look! I got a bingo with Tremblay and his forty votes, eh?!”

Bellini turned his head towards him ever so slightly. “And?”

“I want the prize!” Goffredo exclaimed with a broad grin and a little too loud for Bellini’s liking. Maybe he was just imagining it, but Tremblay kept staring at them whenever he could, as if he was expecting to make out right there and now

And damn it, Bellini wished he could.

“I have no idea what the prize is,” Bellini replied, struggling not to reach out and run his hand across Goffredo’s face. With every glass of wine, keeping his hands to himself had become harder, in a way he had never anticipated to occur. This evening, they had met by sheer coincidence in front of the Casa Santa Marta. Goffredo had just returned from wherever he had been, and Bellini had been about to leave after the end of the official audience. Ultimately, it had been Mandorff’s fault that they were here now; he had persuaded them to join the little reading event.

“Pfff,” Tedesco hmphed, making a face.

Bellini leaned in, then pointed to the Bellesco arts hanging on the whiteboard. “What if the prize is more of these?”

Goffredo was crimson within a heartbeat. “Aldo! You… you… But if that’s the prize, it means you are drawing them!”

“Not necessarily, Goffredo,” Bellini pointed out, wishing they could leave already. The entire situation was getting on his nerves. “You screamed so loud that the entire cafeteria is aware of your bingo.”

“So if new Bellesco arts show up tomorrow, that means the person was here!” Goffredo replied with wide eyes.

“Only if the caption says it’s a gift for Eminenza Tedesco, having a bingo whilst reading gay fanfiction,” Bellini laughed, absolutely unserious. Since he knew how much Goffredo hated these arts, he would not confess that he actually liked them; even found them inspiring in a way.

Goffredo elbowed him again. “ALDO! No! That’s… no! No no no, I don’t want to see such shit on this… this Insta-thing! This useless fake thing, eh!”

“Fine, fine,” Bellini laughed, lowering his voice distinctly. “How about a kiss as a prize, then?”

Goffredo said nothing. Bellini relished in that.

“On your belly…,” Bellini murmured, the words barely there.

Goffredo gasped. Bellini let his hand disappear underneath the table, fingertips ghosting over Goffredo’s cock but not touching. “Or here…? What about that?” Without knowing, Bellini was positive that Goffredo was already hard.

“Filthy,” Goffredo muttered, pretending to be offended and repulsed when quite clearly he wasn’t.

Just in the moment when Bellini was about to check if his assumption about Goffredo being hard was correct, Roissy strode into the cafeteria. “Oh, Joseph, it’s your big day today, I have heard; like Christmas coming early, no?”

Goffredo burst out laughing, and the moment between the two of them was gone, ruined.

Bellini sighed. Contrary to Goffredo, he had seen enough and was ready to go home. He wasn’t interested in drama, wasn’t interested in all that Tremblay-filth, either. Just…

Well… Goffredo certainly was not ready to go home, yet it seemed, latching onto the opportunity to see Tremblay humiliated further. Bellini did not mind that at all; it was more than deserved for what he had done during the conclave and what he had done with Woźniak to trick him into such a messed-up thing. So yes, it was well-deserved, but that did not mean that he wasn’t tired and actually done with everyone’s nonsense. The conversation with Lawrence still rolled around in his head, the fact that he had seen Tremblay on his knees with Woźniak’s cock in his throat… and now this! A fucking update about Tremblay jerking off to the amount of votes he got.

At least it was fiction, Bellini thought, not quite following the flitters of conversation around him anymore. He wanted to go home. Together with Goffredo. Shower and call it a day. Just that.

“Say, Joe, is this true? Did you jerk off to the votes?” Roissy laughed, pouring himself a generous amount of wine from the table nearest to him.

Tremblay choked.

Woźniak blanched.

Tremblay was crimson.

“NO WAY,” Mandorff coughed, crimson from shock and shame and second-hand embarrassment of Tremblay’s nonexistent shame. “NO WAY.”

That much for the update being fictional…

Bellesco was true. Lawrenitez was true. Tremblay/his hand was apparently also true. The gift of foresight the author had was incredible; a witch, a fortune-teller. He needed to find out who it was, asking her for the lottery numbers. Not that he could buy himself out of his misery. And on another matter: if everything else in the story was true, did that also mean Lawrenitez with bonus O’Malley also was true? Or would it be true in the near future? What if…

Sabbadin’s voice tore Bellini out of his spinning thoughts. He had only half-listened to the conversation and hadn’t even paid much attention to Goffredo next to him. Thus, he was all the more surprised as suddenly Goffredo sprang to his feet to defend Sabbadin against Tremblay.

Bellini blinked, not believing his eyes and ears.

They could not agree on anything.

NOTHING.

But even those two could agree that Tremblay was far worse than either of them.

‘Or combined.’

WHY THE HELL DID HE HEAR LAWRENCE’S VOICE IN HIS HEAD NOW?!

Giulio. Goffredo.

Sabbadesco.

Bellini jerked in irritation at his thoughts.

Sabbadin teaming up with Goffredo. Goffredo teaming up with Sabbadin. If they were…

No.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, visibly reacting to the images of Sabbadin and Goffredo already forming in his head. But then… why was Tremblay allowed to have a fucked-up threesome, and he wasn’t? Why was anybody willing to hook up with Tremblay on that matter, let alone two men?! From the late Holy Father to Tremblay… poor Woźniak. Poor Woźniak.

Still: the images somersaulting in his head weren’t about Tremblay and Woźniak but about Sabballinidesco.

Hot.

Objectively, the three of them would be a disaster.

Not so objectively, it was incredibly hot, especially the dynamics. If Lawrence could write his little AU, so why couldn’t he?!

But his mind had entirely different ideas about what to make out of that,

–‘Doggystyle so you can watch the PowerPoint presentation I made outlining why you were wrong,’ the imaginary Sabbadin spat, the words echoing in Bellini’s head. ‘Missionary so we can continue our argument from before,’ Goffredo spat back before Sabbadin tore at his hair and kissed him. –

“The fuck,” Bellini swore.

Why did he suddenly remember the damn nonsensical print O’Malley had given him a few days ago with a wink?! And on that matter: WHAT EXACTLY DID O’MALLEY KNOW ABOUT ALL THIS?!

The sounds of eating, the laughter, the arguments all around him—it was suddenly all too much.

“I want to go home,” Bellini said, so overwhelmed that for once he wasn’t even overly cautious that somebody overheard him.

“Noooooo,” Goffredo whined, pointing at Tremblay before he looked at Bellini. “Just look at his miserable ass…”

Tremblay’s complexion was an alteration of white from shock and red from mortification. “He should also go home.”

“He shouldn’t be here at all, eh?” Goffredo hissed, narrowing his eyes whilst he kept staring at Tremblay. Even if no one could agree on anything these days, they all could agree on Tremblay. “No shame! No manners…”

“We all know that already,” Bellini sighed, pondering his options on how to convince Goffredo to go home. It was obvious how much he wanted to stay, and he felt apologetic for trying to lure him away. “What about your prize, Goffredo? Don’t you want it anymore?”

Goffredo’s reaction did not disappoint. His full attention was on Bellini again, including his hand on his thigh. “Eh, you said you didn’t know about a prize?”

Bellini flashed him a smile. “What if I just didn’t tell you?” he said in a low murmur, leaning in as much as he dared in public.

Goffredo lifted his chin. That he didn’t cross his arms in front of his chest was all. “Then you lied, and that’s a sin,” he snapped.

“You’re a sin!” Bellini snapped back.

Goffredo blinked, not quite in irritation.

Bellini had the decency to blush, not saying anything else.

“Fine, let’s go, then.” Goffredo was already standing, wedging his way out between the chairs and the table. “You have wine left?”

Even if they drank a bottle each day for the rest of their lives, they wouldn’t be able to drink it all. “More than enough, I am afraid,” Bellini stated, watching Goffredo don his coat and scarf.

Goffredo stopped, leaning over the table where Bellini still sat. “Just like kisses, there’s never enough of wine. So come, let’s go,” he whispered, then laughed when a wave of heat washed all across Bellini’s face.

*

Bellini’s apartment wasn’t exactly far from the Casa Santa Marta, and this time, they didn’t take a detour through the gardens or towards somewhere else. Whilst Bellini noticed Lawrence standing in the lobby together with O’Malley, he didn’t pay them too much mind. Whatever they did with each other wasn’t any of his business, especially not when his business was walking right next to him. And also: he should come up with a little prize for Goffredo’s bingo, especially now that he had hinted at the fact that there might be one waiting…

The moment they were out of sight of the Casa Santa Marta, Goffredo increased his pace and then stopped right in front of Bellini.

Bellini quirked his brows. “What?”

“Am I really a sin?” Goffredo asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Shaking his head, Bellini replied, wondering what prompted the question, “Not per se, no. And sin also probably is the wrong word; temptation might be better suited.”

No, he hadn’t just said that…

Goffredo wiggled his brows in an attempt to tease, and it worked better than he might have anticipated. “Oh, am I now?” he asked, and his voice was low and deep and full of promises, so much that Bellini was scared he’d kiss him every moment.

Bellini scanned the surroundings. They were in the perfect spot for one of the many cameras, and anyone with a little skill in reading lips could decipher what they were saying. “We are in public.”

“Yes, I know. And that’s exactly why we’re going home now. Come…”

Home…

A shiver raced down Bellini’s spine.

Goffredo, referring to his apartment so casually as home, made Bellini feel strangely warm despite the fact that he was still shivering from it. Home—that word held a weight he was unsure of how to deal with, especially since home was so important to Goffredo. When they had shared their first dinner together, he could not have foreseen where it would lead them; failed to believe it.

And yet the warmth persisted, strong and heavy and consuming.

“What’s now? Where are your thoughts?” Goffredo muttered, resuming their walk.

Bellini sighed, falling into step with him. “I’m sorry. The day was long, and I’m exhausted, it’s just that.”

“Just that, eh. No. Too much work again. But you promised me to work less. And now you are half-dead and starved again. That’s exactly why we go home now. Pronto.”

Bellini blinked and said nothing. That Goffredo did not urge him to walk faster physically was all. For a good while, they walked in silence, a trail of tutti-frutti vapor trailing behind them because Goffredo vaped constantly. Somehow, Bellini had gotten used to it over time, strangely enough; like he had gotten used to so many of Goffredo’s habits in the past few days.

Standing in front of the door that led inside, Bellini fumbled for the keys. “I—” he began, not getting any further than that.

Goffredo took the keys from his shaking hands and unlocked the door. “No. I don’t want to hear any excuses about audiences and the Holy Father and what-else-not. If I hadn’t met you in front of the Casa Santa Marta, you’d still be working.”

“I—”

The rest was drowned in the noise of Goffredo slamming the door shut. “Am I wrong?”

Bellini shook his head, feeling awfully guilty. “No, you aren’t.”

“This is unhealthy, Aldo,” Goffredo said, helping Bellini out of his coat before he even attempted to get rid of his own. Dumbfounded, Bellini watched him put the coats away, watched him sit down to take off his shoes and neatly put them aside, for once not kicking them away like he had the last few times.

For long moments, they looked at each other whilst guilt and a flare of insecurity gnawed at him. There was so much to say, so much to talk about but the words weren’t there; or they were, too many of them, actually—a sea of incoherence of everything that had happened.

Goffredo stood. “Come here,” he offered with outstretched arms, not awaiting Bellini’s response. Instead, he caught him in a crushing embrace, hands splayed against his back from where one of them moved up to the back of Bellini’s head. With a sonorous sigh, Bellini buried his face in Goffredo’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “You’ll work yourself to death one day if you continue this,” he was saying against the crown of Bellini’s head. “Working, drinking, more working, but not eating. How long have you been doing this? Five years? A decade?”

Yes, something like this.

He sighed, then nodded.

“See? And if I don’t stop you, you’ll work yourself into an early grave. And what for? To be the heroic cardinal who worked himself to death to bring the Holy Father’s visions and dreams to life? To prove himself… yes… to prove what even?”

Of course, Bellini could snap back. A bitter word or two. Something, anything, really. Just that Goffredo was right and old habits were hard to die, no matter how hard he tried (not that he was trying very hard).

“Today, you won’t work,” Goffredo told him, cupping his face. “And we won’t drink. Not you, not I. You’ll relax and wind down, and for once forget about all that bullshit that comes with work. Audiences, eh? What use is there holding them all the time?”

“The Holy Father,” Bellini heard himself say, realizing how idiotic that excuse sounded. Of course, everyone wanted to meet the Holy Father; just that he did not necessarily need to attend these audiences, a few special ones aside. Not even the late Holy Father had requested that of him. So it was his own fault that he was always busy.

“See?” The way Goffredo’s thumbs brushed over his cheeks was so gentle and so tender. “You noticed how idiotic that sounded. The Holy Father here, the Holy Father there. It’s not about him tonight. It’s about you! About me… about us.”

‘Us.’ – The little word echoed in Bellini’s head for quite a while.

“Aldo…” Goffredo kissed his nose, then his lips. “I want you to relax. I want to spend a nice evening with you, away from those gossiping curial officials, away from anywhere where they could take photos of us or videos or whatever… I just want to be there for you, you know?”

A lump formed in Bellini’s throat at such kindness. “Goffredo—"

“No, not Goffredo this. Or Goffredo that. You sit down and wait now. Until your bath is ready. And then you go and relax, and afterwards we decide what to do with the rest of the evening.”

Goffredo’s words provoked something Bellini was not quite prepared to deal with. These words aimed to tear down the brick wall he had built around himself for decades. There was so much warmth in them, so much care; they were selfless without any expectation, which was so different from the life he was used to.

A favor for a favor…

It was a practice omnipresent within the Curia, and far beyond. The entire Church was infested; and from its heart it spread like cancer. And whilst the late Holy Father had tried very hard to put an end to it, ultimately, he had not managed to weed it out fully.

Innocent…

Only time could tell.

Again, Bellini spiraled, jumping from one thought to the next until Goffredo’s staring tore him out of it. “Fine, fine,” Bellini sighed, tiredness settling deep in his bones. “I will stay here.”

“I’ll check,” Goffredo said before he left for Bellini’s bathroom, moving through the apartment as if he truly considered it home. Was it? Did he really see it like this? And if so, what did it mean? For him… for them?

Bellini shivered. ‘For us.’

The sound of pouring water reached him, whilst his mind was still stuck on the questions; not that he expected to find an answer to them any time soon. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax at least a little. The smells of his favorite bath essence, Molton Brown’s black pepper, drifted towards where he sat, making him wonder where Goffredo had unearthed it. He hadn’t used it for a long time.

“Eh Aldo, that smells so good,” he heard Goffredo call out from the bathroom, followed by, “I think.... It’s ready. Now come.”

Without thinking, Bellini stood and only then realized that he behaved like a dog whose owner was offering treats from the kitchen counter. His legs felt heavy as he walked towards his bath, a strange sense of shyness threatening to overwhelm him. There was no reason to feel that way, and yet he couldn’t rid himself of it.

It was a bath. A favor. Just that, nothing else. And maybe, a hot bath and some time alone really was what he needed tonight.

Leaning against the doorframe, Bellini watched Goffredo stir the water in the free-standing tub with his bare arm. He had rolled up the sleeves of his cassock, and it did things to Bellini. “Where did you buy this essence? I like it. But I never smelled it on you. And the tub! Aldo, it’s like in a hotel! Everything is! And it’s so big?”

Bellini pretended his red face was a consequence of the heat in the room. “Because I rarely have the time for this,” he explained, pointing at the tub. Steam rose from it, and the water’s surface was covered with a massive layer of bubbles, meaning Goffredo must have stirred a lot.

Goffredo gave him a judging glance. “Because everything else is always more important than yourself.”

Yes. Fine. It was true. But that did not mean Bellini was willing to sit through another lecture from Goffredo about working too much. “Fine, but I’m willing to relax now. So shouldn’t you be content?”

“Yes, yes, I am, eh!”

Somehow, Bellini had expected Goffredo to nod and then leave him to himself. Just that Goffredo did not show any intention to leave. Instead, he sat down at the edge of the tub, taking a handful of foam into his palm, blowing it towards Bellini with a laugh.

‘Idiot,’ Bellini thought, not saying it because the way Goffredo sat there was quite adorable.

“Aldo, what’s this now? It’s getting cold,” Goffredo complained, not moving an inch.

Slowly, it began to dawn on Bellini—Goffredo had no intention to leave at all, making himself quite comfortable by pulling out his vape.

Suddenly, the room was too hot and too humid; the light too bright, and just, damn it, Bellini was so nervous that not even the previously consumed wine helped. It was idiotic, really. This was nothing more than a bath, and yet the prospect of having Goffredo sit around whilst he undressed was something that put him on the very edge. Whilst Bellini wasn’t ashamed of his body in general, the entire situation and the fact that it was Goffredo Tedesco watching provoked a good amount of shame. “Won’t you leave?” he asked despite knowing the answer all too well.

“Leave? Leave, leave?” Goffredo muttered, face disappearing in a cloud of vapor. “How can I make you relax when I leave? So no, obviously, I am not leaving. Unless you want me to. Then of course I will. But you have to tell me so.”

Bellini blinked. Once. Twice. As if that would help to talk sense into him.

Truth to be told, he did not want Goffredo to leave; he would like to listen to his voice whilst he tried to relax, certain that it would help him to wind down. And even if he was not in the mood to talk (which Bellini doubted because Goffredo simply could not shut up), quiet company was very welcomed tonight. So no, he did not want him to leave, and it was more about the undressing part. Goffredo had never seen him fully naked (only read him being fully naked in the damn story)—and that was exactly what made Bellini shy.

With Goffredo still looking at him expectantly, Bellini slowly shook his head. “No, please stay.”

It felt… right in every possible way, and Goffredo’s face lighting up at the words made it feel right all the more. Reflecting on the past few days, a lot of things he had done with Goffredo had felt right; natural even, as if they were meant to be. Strange as it was (or as he would have said not long ago), they felt righter than many things Bellini had done in the past.

That realization stuck with him as he began to strip down, following the nightly routine he had practiced for decades: the shirt came first, followed by his belt and trousers, then his undershirt, then the socks. The moment only the boxershorts, black and plain, were left, Bellini hesitated as he noticed how Goffredo’s eyes roamed all across his body until they came to rest on the bulge. He was already half-hard, had been for some time now.

Goffredo stared, licking his lips. Then he hummed, rather appreciatively.

Despite the warmth of the room, Bellini shivered.

“Don’t be shy, Aldo,” Goffredo remarked, and Bellini tried hard not to let the self-consciousness and nervousness rise up. But well, Goffredo did stare, anticipation so clearly evident in his eyes. Eventually, Bellini pulled his boxers down, and whilst he was about to step out of them, Goffredo exclaimed in delight, “Aldo! It’s… like in the story… no hair!”

Bellini almost fell over his own feet at Goffredo’s vocal delight. Still awkwardly bent down, he shot Goffredo a judging glance. “Almost no hair,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Goffredo rasped, struggling to breathe as he drank in the sight of Bellini standing straight again. “But so little! Aldo! It’s so short!”

That he did not get up to run his fingers over it was all, Bellini thought, tempted to fling the boxers into Goffredo’s face. “It’s rude to stare so much!” he muttered, walking towards the tub in the hope of escaping the staring.

The hope was futile; it soon turned out that Goffredo had other ideas.

The moment Bellini was within reach, he circled his arm around his waist, pulling him close. “Aldo, don’t be so mean… I just like what I see…. What I feel,” he murmured, pressing his face against Bellini’s stomach whilst his hands came to rest on Bellini’s back. They were so warm and so gentle and… “It’s… you are beautiful. So of course I am staring.”

Face still pressed against Bellini’s stomach, Goffredo looked up, blinking.

Bellini looked down.

Even if he wanted to keep being annoyed, he found he could not. Not when Goffredo looked at him like this and when he kissed his belly so affectionately before he whispered,  “And there you said, I’m a temptation.”

Bellini smiled, ruffling Goffredo’s curls, and eventually, Goffredo let Bellini step into the tub where pleasantly warm water awaited him. It was hot, but not scalding; the tub was full of foam but still little enough as not to spill over the tub’s edges and create a mess on the floor.

As soon as Bellini soaked in the tub, Goffredo took care of the discarded clothes, either folding them or putting them away in the various hidden bins Bellini used for his dirty laundry. Thankfully, Goffredo didn’t rummage through the shelves above the bins; otherwise, he might have found things Bellini liked to use in the tub during the rare occasions he allowed himself such idleness. But Goffredo did not rummage at all, returning to his side right away after dimming the light. Instead of sitting down at the tub’s edge again, he came to stand where Bellini’s head was, then squatted down. Never had he envisioned that this would be the benefit of that free-standing tub…

Bellini closed his eyes, allowing the warmth of the water to chase away the bone-deep exhaustion; to relax how Goffredo had bade him to. Strangely enough, it worked, all the more when Goffredo’s hands dipped underneath the water’s surface to come to rest on Bellini’s shoulders, where they just stayed as a grounding presence.

It was safer with him than with anyone else in the Curia, Thomas aside, Bellini thought, dipping his head back to watch Goffredo’s face. He, too, had his eyes closed, and Bellini would give the world to know what he was thinking about. But asking would mean to disrupt the precious moment and the comfortable silence that came with it, which he didn’t want to do at all.

The realization how the entire situation made him feel was striking; how Goffredo made him feel. His presence and his hands, and the excitement he had previously seen on his face.

It was a passing thought as Goffredo opened his eyes and smiled down at him. “Aldo… now you are staring.”

The comment caught Bellini off guard. “No, I wasn’t. I watched you, that is all.”

Goffredo’s hands wandered along Bellini’s throat to the side of his head. “That’s the same, Aldo.”

Bellini wasn’t in the mood for arguments so he said nothing and closed his eyes again. The silence stretched long and longer, delicate and calming, especially since Goffredo began to draw idle patterns on Bellini’s skin; he started at the top of his head, then moved down along his throat to his chest, as far as he could reach in the position he was in. If he did it long enough, he would fall asleep; Bellini had little doubt about that. His eyelids were already heavy, and a strange sense of calmness wrapped itself around him, like a warm blanket in a cold winter night.

Bellini tensed at his musings, thankful that Goffredo did not notice.

This… whatever they had done was nothing like the flings Bellini had had throughout the past five decades. Yes, they had kissed, and yes, they had shared a bed (still clothed though), and yes, Bellini had sucked Goffredo off, but they had cooked together, they had gotten drunk, and had created the bingo cards; he had given Goffredo a massage, for the simple reason to help him recover from being hung-over and now Goffredo seemed to be inclined to return the favor. All of it was domestic in a way Bellini had never allowed himself to be with anyone…

Perhaps…

No.

But also yes.

He sighed without making a sound, surrendering to his thoughts and Goffredo’s hands. Whatever decade-old internalized guard and caution had previously remained evaporated from his skin, together with the steam rising all around him and was washed away with the warm water. He still didn’t know what exactly this was and what exactly they were to each other—or rather had become in mere days—but figured, ultimately, it did not matter now.

What mattered was this; the moment in itself and them. The way Goffredo’s fingers ran across his skull, then along his throat and to his chest, and how Goffredo’s presence had made him stop thinking about work like the evenings before.

Somehow, it was similar and then it was not: it was far more intimate than drunken kissing, and even more intimate than giving Goffredo a blowjob while he was on his knees. Whilst the air was heavy with sexual tension and want, there was nothing sexual about the situation in itself, and that was what got to Bellini more than anything else. The fact that Goffredo took care of him in such a way despite not having to; that he had asked and offered, not once taking advantage of Bellini’s vulnerability of being naked whilst he was not. Whilst his hands were restless as ever, they never moved further than Bellini’s chest; they touched to caress and to soothe, never to initiate something else, something more; not that Bellini would be opposed to that….

“A crime,” Goffredo muttered after a good while, fingers back on Bellini’s head again. “No hair…”

Bellini huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s hardly something I can change, so stop complaining about it.”

After he saw him rolling his eyes, Goffredo said, “I’m not complaining, Aldo. I just… if there was hair, I could wash it, but there’s none.”

Another wave of warmth washed over Bellini’s face. Surely, it was caused by the steam still rising from the tub. “You… I mean… You can still do it? Even without hair? It still feels nice.”

“Ah, um,” Goffredo stammered, suddenly not so brave anymore but very red and insecure. It was quite endearing, actually. “Can I really?”

Bellini never really was brave—or so he at least thought. “Of course. I’d like you to,” he murmured.

In fact, it was more than that. He wanted him to, wanted to relish in the sensation of being touched like this. He had always liked it, even if the motivation was different most of the time. Goffredo running his soapy fingers across his skull for some time… it was as if he had won a bingo and that was the prize.

‘Damn it.’

He should think about the little prize, Bellini thought whilst Goffredo was already busy massaging his scalp.

“Aldo?” Goffredo said out of nowhere after what felt like a few minutes already, tearing Bellini out of his musings.

Dipping his head back to look at Goffredo, Bellini wondered, “Mhm?”

“Stop this!” Goffredo’s voice was devoid of any amusement, which took Bellini aback.

“Stop what?” he asked, not sure what to expect.

“I told you to relax and to stop chasing your thoughts, and yet here you are yet again. Thinking. Overthinking… I have no idea what you think about, but you should stop!”

Closing his eyes, Bellini sighed. Goffredo was observant as ever. “It wasn’t about work,” he retorted, only then realizing how stupid it sounded, and disappeared underwater to wash the soap away.

“Doesn’t matter!” Goffredo said with a groan, placing both of his hands on Bellini’s shoulders like he had before the moment Bellini’s head was out of the water again. “I want you to let go and to become sleepy and—”

“So that you can drown me and make it look like an accident?” Bellini deadpanned with a laugh. 

“Nooooo! Aldoooo! What ideas do you have?!” Goffredo was saying, splashing a good amount of water right into Bellini’s face. Some of it ended up in his eyes, and with all the soap, it burned like hell.

“Idiot!” Bellini hissed, rubbing his eyes before splashing two hands full of water over his shoulder at Goffredo.

“Hey!” Goffredo said, quite shocked, which made Bellini laugh all the more. “That’s unfair! You are sitting in all the water whilst I am all dressed.”

“And?” Bellini laughed, splashing another handful back at Goffredo. “Who stops you from stripping and joining me?”

Goffredo flicked more water at him. Bellini splashed back. They kept doing that, and the individual splashes easily turned into waves, and their laughter was growing by the minute.

Using a moment of unawareness, Goffredo stood, using Bellini’s shoulders as support, which resulted in him dunking Bellini, who slid down the tub until he was fully submerged. When his head appeared again, the entire floor around the tub was wet as the water had swapped out of it, and Goffredo stood at the tub’s side now.

Bellini didn’t lose any time to splash several handfuls of water at him. Well… it ended up everywhere: on the floor and Goffredo’s head, his arms, even the wall opposite the tub was already wet.

“You are wicked! Aldo! Stop this!”

A look of fake horror flashed across Goffredo’s face. It was all the encouragement Bellini needed to splash even more water at him.

“You, you, you!” Goffredo muttered, the rest of it drowning in Bellini’s laugh because by now, Goffredo was dripping wet; his hair and his glasses and his cassock and his socks. “Idiot!” he rasped, followed by a litany of Italian swearwords.

Bellini ignored him, stepping out of the tub.

Goffredo blinked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on the shore. Just like before, he was back at staring at Bellini, who was dripping wet, his skin partly covered with foam. This time, he let him stare to his heart’s content, toweling himself dry from head to toe, ignoring the mess on the floor. He could not bother to care about it now when his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. Like Goffredo had predicted, or rather hoped for, he was absolutely relaxed…

And well… it wasn’t just that. He was more than ready to get laid, and every time he looked at Goffredo from the corners of his eyes, that specific want only increased.

Goffredo was… hot. For once, it was as simple as that, even in Bellini’s head. With his curls clinging to his forehead and with his cassock wet all over, somehow, there was even a cuteness to him.

Goffredo Tedesco. Cute.

Well.

Wearing only the towel wrapped around his waist, Bellini trudged across the wet floor towards Goffredo, unable to resist the urge to run his fingers through his wet hair.

Goffredo caught his hand around the wrist, letting go of it right after. “Look at the mess!” he said, pointing at himself. “All wet now, eh!”

“What an unfortunate coincidence, Goffredo. Seems as if you need to take this off,” Bellini mused with a grin, reaching for the top buttons of Goffredo’s cassock. He really was wanton, and it showed every bit.

Goffredo stilled Bellini’s hands around his wrists yet again. “Aldo… don’t be such a tease.”

Bellini looked up at him, taken aback by the words. “I wasn’t teasing...”

For long moments, Goffredo did not say anything, just kept holding Bellini’s hands. “I… Aldo… I don’t know… Maybe, it’s too early—”

Bellini rose on his toes to be face to face with Goffredo, wet as he still was, and also to snatch a kiss from him. Just that he almost fell over in the weird position and standing on his toes on the slippery floor. “Too early for what?” he breathed.

“This…,” Goffredo sighed, searching for the words he seemed to be scared to say out loud. “What’s… this story… what’s in there… I want his. Only if you want it, of course. But maaaaybeee, it’s just too early? I don’t know, Aldo. I just don’t know. I shouldn’t have asked, I—”

Bellini leant in, smiling against Goffredo’s mouth. “What could be too early at our age?”

The statement hung between them, heavily so. And whilst Bellini had not intended to make it sound like a dark foreboding, it certainly was true: the likelihood of passing away rather sooner than later was there for both of them. Goffredo’s health wasn’t the best, and whilst Bellini looked healthy, he, too, had been plagued by several sicknesses in the past few years.

Finally, Goffredo let go of Bellini’s wrists. “Are you certain?” he murmured, in a way that was so terribly insecure it nearly broke Bellini’s heart. And then he remembered the little bit of information Goffredo had offered the last time; the little statement he had not elaborated on further. Whilst he did not have proof for it, he was certain it directly correlated with the behavior Goffredo showed right now.

Bellini stepped forward. “Yes,” he said, cupping Goffredo’s face before he kissed him with a desperation matching his want.

When he began to unbutton Goffredo’s cassock at last, he saw Goffredo’s mind working so hard that he was even tempted to inquire. He had been with enough men in the past to notice even the smallest signs of insecurity, doubts, and regrets.

Ultimately, Bellini said nothing. It was the best way to make men like Goffredo talk.

“I know… I know… I told you that I didn’t want to talk about it,” Goffredo was saying when Bellini’s fingers reached the buttons on his stomach. Yes, he remembered the statement; remembered how cold and distant Goffredo had become about Bellini’s curiosity about eating ass. “I.. I still don’t want to talk about it, but I should. I must…Aldo? Why is this so hard?”

Bellini stilled his hands, waiting for Goffredo to elaborate. He wouldn’t push, not this, nor anything else.

Goffredo rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Fuck it, it’s ruining the moment, isn’t it? I’m stupid. I shouldn’t have…”

“Is there anything I can do to make this easier? Other than stopping to undress you, maybe.”

Goffredo chuckled at that. It was at least something to lift the mood.

“Not really, Aldo. I was thinking about telling you when you were in the tub, but you were so peaceful and finally relaxing that I didn’t want to ruin the moment and put that into your thoughts… Then I was thinking… maybe telling you after… but it’s stupid. You need to know before, all of it, not only that I never did this… with a man.”

“You what?!” Bellini exclaimed, surprised and also a little shocked. He… no… he was almost sure he had misheard.

Goffredo's groan told him otherwise. “I’m a virgin in that sense, believe it or not, and I thought I’d die a virgin, Aldo. I… I was scared, and it was against everything I stand for, and it runs so deep that I never allowed myself to entertain the thought. I was raised like this; my father was very opinionated about men together; we all were, not so surprisingly. We grew up like this, hearing the swearwords, hearing how they spoke about degenerates and sodomy, all that.”

Yes, Bellini was very aware of all the swearwords and the slander and everything else that came with it.

“It wasn’t different in the parish where I grew up… How should it be different, eh? There was a demand to listen to flaming homilies to reign in the spreading of sin and decay of morals; the hatred for everything foreign, for everything americano, eh? It was normal, Aldo. We all were like this, and it was only much later that I began questioning it, that I began to notice the discrepancy between what was taught in the church and what people did inside their homes. Compassion, forgiveness, all that you know…”

Unwilling to continue this specific conversation that wasn’t quite a conversation, standing around in a messy bathroom, Bellini reached for Goffredo’s hand to guide him into the bedroom, the cassock only half opened. Yes, he could have chosen the sitting area, but he wasn’t keen on sitting around wearing nothing else than a towel around his waist. Goffredo followed without protest, sitting down on the edge of the bed as soon as they had reached the room. Bellini settled behind him after dimming the light, keeping a polite distance and not touching him as he wasn’t sure if it was welcomed now.

He tried to distract himself by staring out of the window instead of Goffredo’s back, where he knew the scars from his beating were still visible, but there was nothing to see except the clouds, illuminated by Rome’s light.

“I—” Goffredo’s breath stuttered, and it took time to find his voice back. Bellini could not recall if he had ever witnessed it before—Goffredo Tedesco, struggling to speak. The man who never struggled to defend his beliefs in front of hundreds, who was clever and gifted with words. “I observed and I kept questioning much of what I grew up with. You know… we never had enough food, and yet my father put more money than we could afford into the donation box, always. Once, I asked him about that. I still was young back then, maybe seven or so, and I did not make the connection between inside and outside yet. What I said was this – ‘Don’t you think He will understand that we cannot afford to donate so much Lira every month? Don’t you think he will understand that feeding a family comes first?’ – he backhanded me for it, twice. I did not understand, Aldo. Weren’t those questions legit? Weren’t we taught to live a humble life like He had?”

Goffredo sighed, sonorous. Bellini was tempted to embrace him from behind.

“It was later that I understood it never was about God; not the money, nor our best dresses we were made to wear for church. It was about the neighbors and the talk of whether we were seen not donating enough and all that.”

Goffredo buried his face in his hands. His body was bent, and he looked broken. Bellini could not fight the urge to make a physical connection anymore. He placed his palms on Goffredo’s shoulders, tentatively. The hum told him all he needed to know—that the gesture of comfort was welcomed.

“That was when I began to doubt everything. My family, the values I grew up with, even my faith, at times, believe it or not. And yet, over losing my head about all that and amidst all my doubts, my faith slowly began to grow again, steadily. There was a path, suddenly. A way I wanted to lead my life, away from the neighbors’ talk and the gossip and the poverty. Not the hard work, not that, never that. I could not envision a life in idleness. That’s when I decided to enter seminary as soon as I could. My mother cried for days, my father was proud that sense had finally returned to me, that ultimately, all the beatings were fruitful. Just…”

Goffredo’s voice broke again.

Then, after a few heavy breaths, he spoke again. “Why are you so distant, Aldo?”

“Because I was not sure if it would be welcomed,” Bellini said truthfully.

“Of course it would be, more than that, actually.”

And so Bellini bridged the distance that remained between them, pressing his naked chest against Goffredo’s back and hugging him. Given their difference in size, the position was kind of awkward, but neither of them minded.

Before Goffredo spoke again, he laced his fingers with Bellini’s own, pressing them close against his stomach. “Seminary was the first time of my life that I wasn’t hungry. Not once. The food was simple yet enough for everyone. Sometimes, we were even allowed a little wine for dinner. Whilst I wasn’t truly friends with anyone, I got along okay with most of the others, and I learned so much during the lectures, the debates, and the discussion circles. Everything was far more open and liberal than what I was used to. At first, it was strange, and I voiced this, but I became accustomed to it not long after, and ultimately, I dared to voice my questions again. Whilst this wasn’t home, I felt at home, felt at peace, and I studied very hard to be able to continue my education, realizing it was everything I ever wanted. One of our priests noticed my eagerness to learn, indulged my curiosity and…”

The dreadful foreboding slowly began to take form and shape, billowing around them like dark wisps of smoke. Bellini was no stranger to the many faces of clerical abuses, even if he had never suffered himself. For him, seminary had been one of the most forming and beautiful experiences of his life; friendships that still endured had been made, and first kisses had been shared (and a little heartbreak after that). Almost absently, he hugged Goffredo a little tighter; certainly not to prompt him to elaborate but to reassure him; tell him in a non-verbal way that he was here, present. The consequence of it, perhaps, was identical.

(x)

Goffredo sighed heavily before elaborating. “What he also noticed was the way I struggled with what I grew up with, the very conservative values, and what he called the narrowness of the mind. He was liberal, very progressive, also still very young. Good-looking also and talkative and open. You know… he filled the emptiness home-sickness left behind; listened to my doubts and my questions, and ultimately took advantage of that. I… I didn’t know who I was and who I wanted to be and what mattered to me at that point of life. I was vulnerable, Aldo. So vulnerable. Alone, far away from home, and I didn’t understand how manipulative it was what he did and what he said, selling his liberal ideas of love and sex to me. Of course, I was curious, a little definitely. But, in the end, this wasn’t healthy, nothing of it. Deep inside, I always knew, but for so long I ignored it, the internalized feeling of always feeling ungrateful, how my father had often called me, lingering. And he called me that—ungrateful—more than once. He knew about my past. I told him. I told him the same thing I told you days ago. And so he knew, and used it to his advantage…”

Goffredo’s voice was laced with sadness. It felt like he had been telling about his past for hours and was now surprised that emotion overwhelmed him. Bellini was no stranger to that. He had witnessed in the past what bottling up dreadful events could cause, especially when they were so long in the past, although everyone reacted individually to it.

“Coercion. Emotional manipulation…”

“Yes, yes. Now, I know. But I didn’t have the words to name it as such back then. And also: who would have listened to me? Wouldn’t those accusations be brushed away like nothing… wouldn’t they have kicked me out for spreading lies? So I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to do much of what followed, especially later. Just… nobody really forced me to do anything, at least not physically—”

“But emotionally,” Bellini corrected, sour bile rising up his throat.

“Yes. I felt guilty, Aldo. I felt guilty for saying no as if I was… ungrateful. Ungrateful for the chance I got to study and become a priest. And the few times I did say no, it was brushed aside, laughed away, talked over about progressive ideas of opening the Church… The shame. The burning shame in the night and the days after, I—”

Goffredo swallowed hard, struggling to speak. He was overwhelmed and emotionally at the very edge, and Bellini was at a loss for what to do. The perfect words to say in such a situation did not exist, and the perfect way to respond didn’t exist either.

“It only ended when he was dismissed from seminary to take an important role somewhere else. The next step in his career, as they whispered, the direct assistant to the nuncio somewhere in Africa. I never saw him again after that…”

(x)

“Thank you for telling me, Goffredo. Thanks for sharing this with me. I’m so sorry about this, all of it, and I understand…” Goffredo shifted in the embrace until he could look at Bellini, which made Bellini stop talking.

The smile he gave was forced. “That’s… that’s what radicalized me, Aldo. That’s where my hatred for everything liberal and progressive comes from. From that and the way I grew up. I never told anyone. Not back then and especially not later. You are the first to know.”

Bellini could well do without that honor for the simple reason that it meant it hadn’t happened in the first place.

“As for the rest of your sentence,” Goffredo was saying, standing up only to sit on the bed properly and facing Bellini. “No, you don’t understand. But that is okay as long as you listen. Because of what happened in the past, I want this… with you… Specifically with you. This part in the story… I read it several times, and yes, yes mock me for it, it’s beautiful. Written beautifully, emotionally beautifully. Whilst it’s from your point of view, it also describes my eagerness, my… my want for you… it was nothing like that back then. I did it, but I found no joy in it. In the story… I like it? Enjoy it a lot? So yes, obviously I want to do this.”

Bellini took one of Goffredo’s hands in his own, running his thumb across its back. “And if you decide you do not want to anymore along the way, you simply stop and tell me.”

“Yes, yes,” Goffredo said, unconvincing.

“Promise?” Bellini squeezed Goffredo’s hand.

“Eh, don’t pull out the bible and make me swear now.”

Bellini lost it at that, shaking with laughter. The imagination of Goffredo swearing on the bible… after he had stripped down.  

“What?”

“Nothing… just the mental imaginary.”

“Eh, don’t be rude now. Tell me.”

“Why tell you when I can as well show you what it was about?” Leaning in, Bellini kissed him, on the corners of his mouth first, then fully, using Goffredo’s momentary distraction to push him down onto the bed so that he was lying on top of him.

“Hey, that wasn’t the plan,” Goffredo muttered against Bellini’s lips. No, it wasn’t the plan, but putting his entire bathroom under water also hadn’t been the plan, nor was anything the plan really. They simply did not have one for whatever this was.

“The plan was to get you out of this thing, wasn’t it?” Yes, that somehow had been the plan, and so Bellini began to undo the last remaining buttons of the cassock, still wet.

“Yes, yes, it’s too warm anyway,” Goffredo muttered, and as if to make a point, he wiped his forehead.

“The windows stay closed,” Bellini warned, just in case. Then, he allowed his lips to curl into a smirk, hoping he was right with his assumption. He kind of liked that, always had, and the way Goffredo had been during the blowjob was kind of promising. “Especially… since I have a vague feeling that you might be… very vocal.”

Within a second, Goffredo was crimson and actually sweating, and it was the most endearing thing ever. “Aldo, so shameless!”

“Are you?” Bellini teased, thoughts running riot.

“I told you, I’m a virgin!” Goffredo protested.

Bellini’s hand dipped lower. “Surely your hand isn’t one. So?”

“Like… I don’t have much to compare, but maybe?” Goffredo choked on his own confession, standing up to make Bellini’s life a little easier. “Why not find it out, eh?”

Bellini did not need to be told twice. Fuck damn it, the way Goffredo spoke and looked at him made him needy like he hadn’t been since seminary; for his first love, the man he had fallen for head over heels long before he had fallen for Thomas. “If you finally get up so that I can strip you out of all these layers, we actually could.”

Goffredo was on his feet faster than Bellini had thought possible. “Eh, what now?” he laughed when Bellini had stared a moment too long with wide eyes.

“Don’t complain!” Bellini replied, fidgeting with the last five buttons. No one ever unbuttoned the cassock completely, just stepped out of it, except Thomas and Goffredo for entirely different reasons. Whilst Thomas did it because he regarded everything else close to being sacrilegious, Goffredo simply didn’t have another choice: he was too fat for it, and the chances were high he’d ruin it. Not that Bellini would ever complain about the way Goffredo was built. The sentence from the story, ‘by all means, crush me,’ still echoed in his skull.

Just…

This wasn’t some fictional story. This… the prospect of it actually happening was very real. And that made his fingers shake so much that Goffredo noticed. “Nervous, eh?” he asked not without a hint of tease.

“No.”

Goffredo saw through the lie easily. “No?”

“No. Excited, anticipating, wanting, name it as you will,” Bellini said, pushing Goffredo’s cassock off his shoulders and down onto the floor with no intention to pick it up and fold it neatly.

Much to his surprise, Goffredo reached for it. “Wait, wait.”

Bellini blinked, not saying anything. He had no idea for what he should wait, or what Goffredo would even want with the damn cassock. Surely not to fold it neatly… for that Bellini knew him well enough by now. He turned it from one side to the other, searching for its pocket and when he found it, his entire face lit up.

“I…” Bellini wasn’t sure if he should be mortified or awfully endeared when Goffredo held up a blister pack containing 12 individual pills. They were blue. Unmistakingly blue. Diamond-shaped.

“Eh, just in case?” Goffredo said, pressing one of the pills out of its packaging. “As I said, I don’t have much experience with these things, and it says… one lasts longer with it also? Even if it works fine? And… I just wanted to make sure you will have a good time… like in the story.”

Bellini coughed, suddenly enamored instead of mortified. The thoughtfulness was something else, something he clearly hadn’t expected from Tedesco, and he was… no, his eyes weren’t getting wet.

“No, no, no. Don’t tell me you’re a crier, Aldo,” Goffredo pointed out the obvious.

Bellini wiped the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He was. Always had been. Just that he had learned over time not to let it show except around Lawrence. So why the hell was he crying now? “Hopefully a pretty crier…,” he said, putting Sabbadin’s sarcasm to shame.

“Pfff,” Goffredo huffed, swallowing the blue pill without water before he pulled Bellini to his feet to catch him in a tight embrace. “The prettiest, Aldo. The most handsome I’ve ever seen.”

There was nothing Bellini could do to blush and cry some more, face buried against Goffredo’s chest. “But you said you don’t have experience… so why would you even have Viagra?”

Goffredo laughed. “Eh, you confessed you needed them when we made the bingo cards, remember? So, since I wasn’t sure if you had them, I thought there’s no harm in getting some. And before I did, I did some research and I learned that they also… yeah, makes you last longer, so I thought… why not, and went to the doctor and to the pharmacy afterwards to get them today.”

Bellini couldn’t believe what he heard. “I thought you were with Tremblay today?”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Goffredo groaned, still holding the packaging in one hand. “I was… and I was having such a hard time getting rid of him. Aldo, that man is obsessed. With me. With us. I felt like I was having an inquisition and was scared he’d follow me to my appointment. So I told him I had something important to do… I was even late for the doctor because I hid just to make sure he’s not following me.”

“I already told you… He also had an appointment of another kind,” Bellini stated.

A shadow of disgust fell onto Goffredo’s face. “DON’T REMIND ME! This man… Archbishop Woźniak needs to be exorcised. I kid you not. He must be possessed to get involved with that shameless lunatic!” His temper flared, his gestures becoming wider with every word.

There certainly was the potential of having Tremblay ruin the evening, and it was the last thing Bellini wanted to happen; getting laid ruined by Joseph Tremblay. No way. JUST NO. “Let’s not get riled up over what Tremblay does or doesn’t do, Goffredo.”

“Eh, I want to get riled up,” Goffredo said with an awkward laugh, wiggling his brows. “But not by them… but by you.”

Bellini failed to stifle the laugh. Goffredo Tedesco, well-read and rhetorically gifted as he was using such language that was so strange. “Where did you even learn the second meaning of that word?”

“O’Malley,” Goffredo laughed, shaking his head.

Bellini could not believe it. What the hell did Goffredo have to do with O’Malley? Like literally? He had not seen them talk even once, so… Nothing made sense anymore. Not that he was in the mood to care if O’Malley had fooled around with Goffredo in the same way as he had with more or less everyone else the past few days.

“Fair enough,” Bellini said, forcing the thoughts about O’Malley out of his head. They didn’t have a place here, tonight, not when he was about to get laid for the first time in a very long time. Not in his wildest dreams had he ever envisioned spending more time than necessary in Cardinal Tedesco’s presence, let alone being attracted to him, and yet here he was: half-hard and every fiber of his body singing in anticipation. What was even more ironic was that a fictional story being sent to them had led to this. He still remembered the night when he had called Lawrence, out of himself, about the filth he had been forced to read about himself… Filth that Goffredo had every intention of turning into reality.

“What?” Goffredo murmured, hugging Bellini a little tighter. “What are you thinking about yet again?”

“About the story…,” Bellini replied, relishing in the warmth that came with being pressed against Goffredo’s body. “How angry I was when I received the envelope with the first chapter. How I called Thomas in the middle of the night to discuss this… this filth. And, well, what ultimately came from it…”

Goffredo took a step back, looking at Bellini for long moments before he lifted his arms to cup Bellini’s face. “Us,” he murmured, visibly affected by that single word alone.

Bellini did not fare any better, overwhelmed by the sudden realization and what that made him feel deep in his guts. Where once hate had reigned between them, there was something else now; something Bellini did not dare to name for what it truly was.

Swallowing hard, he buried his face in Goffredo’s chest again, not quite sure if they should even attempt to reenact what was in the story tonight. There were so many words still left unsaid between them, so much to talk about and do and find out along the way.

But the statement from before was still valid: only He knew how much time they still had left with each other. And so Bellini decided to push all emotional sentiment aside, at least for now, and to make decisions without overthinking them until morning came. Contrary to himself, Goffredo was still wearing too much clothes; shirt, pants, and underwear. Without thinking twice about it, he used Goffredo’s momentary distraction to pin him against the wall with far less force than he had expected to need for that.

Goffredo’s eyes were very wide. “What—”

“You are wearing too much still,” Bellini remarked, the annoyance in his voice all fake. Whilst it was true that Goffredo was wearing too much, he was more than willing to take his time with everything.

Goffredo’s face flushed. It was beyond fascinating to watch it getting even redder. “I—” his voice was strained, now in confusion.

“Get out of these clothes now,” Bellini demanded, pressing his entire body against Goffredo, who did not even put effort into keeping a straight face. The effect these words had on Goffredo was mesmerizing to watch. He blinked, and then a tremor wandered through his entire body, and even when he reached for the collar of his shirt, his fingers were still shaking. And well, he could actually feel the effect the words had on Goffredo. Bellini did not hide the smirk at seeing the highly esteemed Cardinal Tedesco like this: a little embarrassed, shaken, and very much aroused by the situation.

‘Could it be…?’

Whilst Bellini did not act on his assumption, he decided to tuck it away. Perhaps later an opportunity might arise where he could investigate into it further. Right now, there were other things on his mind. He gave Goffredo as much as space as he needed to undress, but not a centimeter more, watching how his thick fingers struggled with the buttons of his shirt and how his pants slid down his legs. This time, he was greeted by Goffredo wearing black boxershorts with “I <3 Roma” printed all across the fabric in every imaginable color, his massive belly spilling out of it.

It was… Bellini stared and stared and stared, then laughed.

“What?” Goffredo murmured, indecisive whether he should be enamored or offended by the laugh.

Bellini still stared. “I thought you hated Rome.” He had, and still did; and at least in the past, Goffredo had been very vocal about his distaste for the Vatican and Rome itself.

“Yes, yes, yes, I do.” Goffredo did not even attempt to deny it. “But… Aldo… Rome is where you are. So… yes, I bought them today when I went out for the Viagra—” His voice broke, and he ran a hand through his hair a few times to hide his nervousness.

This… Bellini was quite at a loss as to what to do with that statement; and with Goffredo himself. Hearing him say it warmed his heart, and it made the butterflies in his stomach flutter a little bit faster. And fuck, these thighs… Bellini was still occupied staring down at them when Goffredo stripped out of his shirt, revealing a similar undershirt like he had worn that night when Bellini had literally fallen head over heels without even realizing it. Grey curls spilled out of its collar, and his thick arms were covered with the same amount of hair, and Bellini could not decide where he should let his eyes come to a rest. It was those arms that would hold him close, and it was those curls on his chest where he’d bury his head in, and fuck damn it, it was those thighs that....

Goffredo called him out on his staring. “Eh, what’s this now, Aldo? Is it too much already?”

Bellini rose on his toes, whispering against Goffredo’s lips. “Yes. And no.”

“Doesn’t make sense, Aldo,” Goffredo laughed, now using Bellini’s distraction to wrap his arms around him and walk him backwards until his legs hit the frame of the bed. For a second, Bellini was worried that they’d fall into it together, and he just was not sure if his bed would survive this—or he. “You still wear too much,” Bellini teased, sitting down on the bed to pull down Goffredo’s shorts even if he really liked them.

“Eh, that’s rude now! Can’t be I’m naked and you still wear this… this towel.”

“Who stops you from removing it…?” Bellini said, his voice nothing more than a breathy murmur, rather slutty, as the author had called that specific voice of his a few times.

“Idiot!” Goffredo snapped without meaning it and stripped out of his undershirt all the same. “That voice, Aldo! Jesus! Like… you used it in the story.”

Bellini flashed him a smile, then lay down on his back, his arms supporting his upper body. “I know…”

Still smiling, he drank in the sight of Goffredo being fully naked; it was the first time he saw him like this… in all his glory, with stretchmarks on his stomach and thighs and just so much hair and liver spots scattered all across his skin, and fuck, damn it, the effect it had was undeniable. His cheeks were flushed, and he was fully hard just from that, and damn, the shyness in Goffredo’s eyes was something else entirely… the insecurity. And his cock…

“Aldo… you are staring,” Goffredo murmured, each word carrying the insecurity.

“Because I like what I see… isn’t that obvious?” Bellini looked at the tent of the towel, then back at Goffredo.

Goffredo bit his bottom lip. “So I'm better than the Viagra, eh?” he laughed.

“Seems like it,” Bellini replied with a laugh matching Goffredo’s. It really was like that: ever since they’ve become something (whatever that something was), he didn’t struggle with getting hard anymore; it almost seemed as if Lawrence’s impotence had subconsciously affected him, which was nonsense, but seemed to be the only explanation nonetheless.

“You sure you don’t want one? Just in case…?”

Bellini eyed the bottle of water on the nightstand, then looked back at Goffredo and stretched out his palm.

“No, no, no,” Goffredo was saying, bending down to pick up the blister pack he had carelessly dropped onto the floor.

He held one pill between his fingers, bending over Bellini. “Open your mouth.”

Without questioning or thinking about it, he allowed Goffredo to place it on his tongue, the act itself terribly similar to communion. ‘How blasphemous!’ the late Holy Father suddenly whispered into his ear.

Bellini coughed, then choked on the pill, which had found its way to his throat already.

“Aldo! Don’t die!” Goffredo fussed over him, pulling him into a sitting position. He even tried to slap him on his back like his mother used to do almost a century ago.

“You won’t get rid of me so easily,” Bellini said with a forced laugh, still recovering from his coughing.

Goffredo heaved a sigh of relief, finally lying down on the bed. Bellini followed, lying down again. “I don’t want to get rid of you, Aldo,” he murmured, letting his fingertips run up and down Bellini’s chest. It was the only part of his body where he had a similar amount of hair as Goffredo, just that it was still black. “I… Never….”

And then Goffredo reached for the towel, about to remove it. “I told you before I want you to relax, so please… let me… don’t take the initiative again…”

Bellini had the decency to blush at that. He had indeed thought about giving him a blowjob again; to initiate something… to… and then the towel around his waist was gone, and now it was Goffredo who stared and stared and stared. Contrary to before in the bathroom, Bellini let him stare at his heart’s content.

“Aldo…,” Goffredo murmured, voice heavy with overwhelm and unconcealed want and flitters of embarrassment. “I… I still want to do this… all of this… I just… where to start? In that story, it’s so easy and so straightforward, and it’s just not? I… I…”

“Because it’s all made up. Like in porn. Nothing about that is realistic in any way, surely you agree.” The nervousness was so endearing, even if it compromised everything Goffredo wanted to do; he had no idea how to initiate things, let alone know what Bellini liked (or not) so of course it was hard for him. “Is helping already considered initiating?”

“Noooo, obviously not,” Goffredo said with a shake of his head before running his fingers through his hair. It did things to Bellini; unholy things, ungodly things, and fuck, why were they still not making out with each other? It had been so easy that night when they had been drunk; then, when it had been nothing more than a drunken fling to be regretted as soon as they’d sobered up.

But… “Good, how about kissing me for a start?” Bellini suggested, mostly not to dwell on his thoughts; he needed them erased, needed to feel Goffredo’s hands on his skin and his lips against his own; and these thighs… god damn it, he wanted to be crushed between them or underneath Goffredo, or, or, or,

“Yes, yes, I can do that.”

Bellini tried hard not to laugh. Thankfully, Goffredo did not notice how much he struggled to stifle it. ‘Can do that’ – as if having sex were following a manual.

But then, when Goffredo’s presence suddenly became a solid weight against him, trying to pull him even closer as they already were, lying face to face. Bellini closed his eyes, relishing in the heat of Goffredo’s body; in his want to fold himself around him, enwrap him, and swallow him whole, and to discover each inch of his skin with his hands and lips. In all that want, the first kiss was sloppy, imprecise, landing on the corners of Bellini’s mouth. He didn’t care; not about that, nor how his own hands were equally clumsy, running through Goffredo’s hair. It felt like silk; like a million silver threads, precious and soft and just…

It was… everything about this was so slow and careful, just like nothing he had expected it to be between them (not that he had ever expected to end up naked with Goffredo Tedesco in his bed) and he couldn’t help but wonder if it always would be like this: starting slow and careful until their want for each other would transform into hunger.

And then Goffredo found his lips again, opened his mouth, and kissed him hard and deep until he had to withdraw to catch his breath.

“Aldo…” He blinked and to Bellini it was as if he blinked away tears of overwhelm. If it was that, it did not last as Goffredo wrapped his arms around Bellini in a crushing embrace, kissing him again. And again. And again. There it was suddenly, the need and the hunger Bellini had fantasized about before. He hadn’t thought it possible at his age: rolling around in bed with someone equally old, making out, caressing and kissing and touching until they were overwhelmed like teenagers, giddy and wanton and just… so desperate for each other. Without even a glimpse of shame, Bellini rubbed himself against Goffredo’s thigh whenever he got the chance to, steadily increasing his pace as long as Goffredo let him.

“Shameless, so shameless,” Goffredo whispered into the crook of Bellini’s throat, which made Bellini snicker because in the same moment he had said it, he was still thrusting into Bellini’s hand. Equally shameless. So shameless, that Bellini’s fingers were already wet and sticky with precome.

The tease came easily. “So what does that make you then?” he wondered, running his hands over Goffredo’s back.

Goffredo removed his face from Bellini’s throat. “Eh, that’s different,” he said after looking at Bellini for long moments with a smile that was absolutely besotted.

“How so?”

“Contrary to you… I…. if it’s not hard, I can’t …”

Bellini knew exactly what he struggled to say.

“You can’t what?”

It was hard to keep a straight face when Goffredo blushed so prettily.

“I… I cannot … if it’s not…” Goffredo was crimson by now, and his entire forehead was glistening in the low light. “Eh, I can’t… fuck you.”

Bellini laughed. “There we go,” he said with a smile, squeezing Goffredo’s face to make the entire situation a little less embarrassing for him. “But you know… for that… you know how it works?”

“Yes, yes,” Goffredo said, and whilst he did, somehow Bellini managed to wiggle free to reach for the drawer of his nightstand.

Goffredo stared at him, not understanding. “Lube,” Bellini explained, seeing another blush crawl all over Goffredo’s skin; how was this supposed to work if a bottle of lube was enough to have Goffredo blush like a young man who watched porn for the first time? How did that blush match with the statement of, ‘I would, Aldo! I would eat your ass…’ – the actual statement. Not the one in the story.

Whilst Bellini still dwelled on that, Goffredo used the momentary distraction to have actions follow his words. With a strength Bellini simply had not expected, Goffredo rolled him over so that he lay on his stomach, then brought both his hands around Bellini’s waist to maneuver him into a half lying, half kneeling position that left nothing—absolutely nothing—to the imagination.

Bellini shifted his head on the pillow, watching Goffredo settle between his legs and how his massive hands rested on his hips. “You… are you certain?”

The smile Goffredo flashed him was disarming. There was no doubt in his eyes; no second thoughts. Not even shame. Only want and need and something else; something deeper. “Yes,” he rasped, the need so evident in his voice that Bellini shook from it.

A single word…

Goffredo reached underneath Bellini and started to stroke his cock, slow and languid; teasing in a way that made Bellini shiver, made every fiber of his body sing in anticipation. Bellini kept staring at him over his shoulder, drank in the sight of his flushed face until he no longer could stare as Goffredo buried his face against Bellini’s ass. His nose brushed against his cleft, and he heard and felt Goffredo inhale and exhale deeply.

No. This wasn’t happening.

THIS WAS JUST AN IMAGINATION.

Involuntarily, Bellini tensed.

Goffredo withdrew, fingers running over Bellini’s ass. “I told you to relax, Aldo. It’s good. It’s pleasant, really. But for it to be like that, you need to relax.”

Yes, Bellini knew.

Still.

He tried hard; he tried so hard to relax. He even succeeded in not tensing again when Goffredo’s face pressed against his ass again, his crooked nose wedging between his buttocks.

Just…

A string of incoherence fell from Bellini’s lips the moment Goffredo’s tongue circled his hole, freshly shaved like his legs to honor the occasion.

THE FUCK!

THIS…

THIS WAS HAPPENING.

Goffredo’s fingers dug into Bellini’s hips as he adjusted the angle of his face, licking around the twitching hole. Bellini gripped the sheets, moaning into the pillow within seconds; he did not even try to suppress it, noticing how much Goffredo seemed to like the noises he made. It…this… getting his ass eaten was like nothing he had ever experienced before; not the blowjobs he had received (some of them had been fabulous), not those casual encounters he had had throughout all the years. There was something about this… something that made him vulnerable as little else. The fact alone that he allowed Goffredo to do it, had been kind of anticipating it ever since it had come up in the story was something very unlike Bellini…

And fuck damn it, it was sacrilegiously good—the imaginary of it, the wetness, the way Goffredo increased the pace. Violent heat already coiled in Bellini’s belly, and as he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted away. Although he could not see Goffredo, he had spent a tremendous amount of time imagining him sucking his hole, pushing his tongue inside, beard scratching across the sensitive skin.

The last time he had imagined it hadn’t even been long ago, only a few hours.

During the audience.

In the Holy Father’s presence at that.

Bellini chuckled at that, even if he now realized that his imagination had lacked many things: there was a gentleness to Goffredo’s touches he had never dared to imagine; one hand stroking him steadily while he pushed his tongue inside to loosen him up. And then there were those little noises Goffredo was making, the grunts and the heavy breathing and the gasps that told him just how much Goffredo was enjoying himself.

Yes, objectively, it was depraved and sinful. Not so objectively, it was one of the most arousing things existing, for both of them, it seemed, judging from Goffredo’s eagerness. It was this realization that erased Bellini’s last remaining doubts, that allowed him to fall and to truly relax; to surrender to Goffredo’s questing tongue.

Bellini jerked, pressing his ass against Goffredo’s face.

Goffredo gasped.

An apology was forming on Bellini’s lips; an apology that never came, for Goffredo’s tongue pushed even deeper inside of him, as far as it would go. There was nothing tentative about it anymore, nothing teasing.

“Goffredo… I…. fuck…” Bellini whined, then moaned.

There was no reply. There couldn’t be one with Goffredo’s tongue deep inside his body.

Fuck damn it.

By now, Bellini was certain he could come from this alone if Goffredo just were doing it long enough. Those wet and sloppy swipes of his tongue, the way he thrusted and sucked and licked; without haste or hesitation; without shame or regret. When a finger joined his eager tongue, the last amounts of shame fled Bellini; he was convinced Goffredo had always seen him as a whore anyway for many years, his preferences hardly a secret.

So why not live up to the reputation that preceded him?

Since both of Goffredo’s hands were busy elsewhere now, Bellini reached for his own cock, giving it a few lazy tugs before he pushed back into the touch; against Goffredo’s face as the position allowed him. It wasn’t that much, but it still allowed him enough range of movement to fuck himself open on Goffredo’s tongue and finger, and whilst he was certain there was a moment of initial surprise, Goffredo did not stop him.

And then Goffredo wrapped his hand over Bellini’s own, assisting him in stroking his cock.

“Goffredo… Mio…”

Goffredo stilled. Pulled back and spoke against Bellini’s ass, his voice vibrating through Bellini’s body. “Aldo… I … it’s so good. But I think it’s not enough… and I… I want you?”

The point was more than valid. Bellini moved his face out of the pillow, looking at Goffredo over his shoulder. His lips were wet and his cheeks flushed, and he was certain that the memory of this wouldn’t leave him ever again. The memory of Goffredo eating his ass—literally; and the effect it had on him.  

“Use the lube for it,” Bellini rasped whilst their fingers were still twined around his cock, moving up and down with languid movements. “And your fingers. Two should be enough.”

Hardly, given how thick Goffredo was.

“Only two?” Goffredo’s eyes were filled with doubt. “Are you sure, Aldo?”

Bellini nodded. “Yes.”

And he was, even if it was a lie. For one, he didn’t want to wait longer than necessary tonight, not with Goffredo looking at him like that, and he’d also always embraced the initial hurt that came with it; the pain being the physical manifestation of his sinning.

There were many ways to deal with that within the clergy: with the overwhelming guilt that often came afterwards, the tears of shame and disgrace. Throughout the years, he had seen cuts and burn marks on body parts that were usually hidden by clothes, knew about ice-cold or scalding showers, and not eating for days as punishment—he wasn’t a stranger to any of that. It was like cold rain soaking him through until everything stopped hurting; like he had seen Lawrence do it a few days ago, far too public for his liking. It had served one purpose (which Bellini finally understood now): to wash away the hurt and the sin and everything else that came with it.

So yes, he knew. But was Goffredo familiar with any of that?

Bellini was not quite sure what reaction the aftermath of having sex would provoke. Tears? Anger? Something else entirely? He wasn’t sure if he was fit to deal with it. Not that he should dwell on that now. Now was now, and he’d figure out how to deal with it later when it was time for that. Just that it did not stop him from losing his mind about it.

Goffredo seemed to be entirely immune to such thoughts and fretting, a state of Bellini wished he could reach again. Whilst Goffredo clearly noticed the way Bellini’s relaxation had ceased again, for once he ignored it, reaching for the lube and pouring a generous amount of it on Bellini’s ass and also onto his fingers. It was so cold that gooseflesh began to spread all across Bellini’s skin, all the more when Goffredo spread his buttocks, his thick thumbs sliding down towards his hole.

Bellini swallowed, staring back at Goffredo and arching into the touch of his finger. It was only one, but one of them was almost twice as thick as Bellini’s own (or any man he had had sex with in the last decade), even if Goffredo’s tongue had already stretched him a good amount. And so Bellini wiggled his hips, trying to get Goffredo’s finger deeper inside. “Aldo, don’t be so wanton.”

The evidence of how wanton Goffredo was himself pressed against the back of his thigh. “So you are telling me you’re not wanton at all?” Bellini laughed.

“Of course I am!” Goffredo didn’t even bother to deny it. “How should I not be? You… half kneeling, half lying in front of me… Legs spread… hole stretched and waiting. I mean… seriously, what do you expect?”

Bellini could not tell what he had expected. Not ending in bed with Tedesco aside, that was, and so he said nothing.

“See? Aldo… It’s delicious! Like a tasty and fulfilling meal. And this… Aldo, it’s still only the first course. Before was an appetizer, eh.” Appetizer. Bellini blinked. Did Goffredo mean it… literally? He’d eaten after all... “And—damn it, do you even know how good you look? Cheeks flushed, spread out, waiting… It’s just...”

Within a few days, Bellini had learned to read the things Goffredo wasn’t saying. “What?” he inquired, loving seeing Goffredo searching for words in sexual situations. It was… it was better than Viagra on so many levels.

“It’s a pity I can’t kiss you, eh?”

Bellini smiled, then laughed. “Oh, if it’s only that, we can change that, you know…,” he said, moving off Goffredo’s finger and lying down on his back. His legs were spread obscenely wide, and when he brought his arm under his head, Goffredo stared at him with his mouth open. “You can do it like this, also,” Bellini explained the obvious for the simple reason of seeing Goffredo shake from hearing the words. “And then you can watch me. And I can watch you in return, and whenever you feel like it, you can kiss me.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Goffredo was still staring. Bellini’s naked body was laid bare for him to see, so small and vulnerable compared to him. Like a hunter regarding his prey, Bellini thought, just that he’d ended up in this exact situation more than willingly, accepting that Goffredo took in every detail of his body. Not that Bellini wasn’t staring back, getting drunk on Goffredo’s curves and everything else; how his cock rose from a sea of curls, thick and covered with veins, and its tip already wet and glistening. “So all the time,” Goffredo told him at last, adjusting his position between Bellini’s thigh.

“If it’s all the time, then you can kiss me all the time,” Bellini murmured, very affected by the prospect of that.

Goffredo did not need to be told twice. Without a second thought, he leaned in to catch Bellini’s mouth in a bruising kiss, all needy and wanton and fueled by pent-up desire for each other, making Bellini feel exactly the same. He kissed him back with the same frenzy, burying his hands in Goffredo’s hair. And fuck, somehow, Goffredo had managed to bring his arm between them, now back at fingering him open.

“It feels good, Aldo. You feel good.”

Wasn’t one finger enough already?

No.

But fuck damn it, he didn’t want to wait. He was desperate, both of them pushing each other further with each touch they bestowed and each kiss that was even more wanton than the first. And whilst Bellini didn’t believe in mind-reading and similar nonsense, he clearly felt another finger enter him, twisting and coiling until he moaned against Goffredo’s mouth. It was hot and it was messy and it was fast and desperate and if the sex was half as good as this hinted at—oh, he’d surely float in bliss for days to come.

Goffredo let go of his mouth, sitting back. “Just look at you…”

Bellini had no doubt he looked exactly how he felt: aroused and needy and warm and desired. Goffredo looked at his own hand, moving his fingers in and out of Bellini’s hole until he writhed on the dark grey sheets. Then his gaze flicked to Bellini’s face, and he smiled. Bellini trembled at the intensity when their gazes met, the unsaid implication heavy between them.

“Stop teasing me,” Bellini murmured, withdrawing his hand from underneath his head to cup Goffredo’s face fully.

“Are you really sure this… this is enough?” There was hesitation in Goffredo’s voice; it was there in his eyes, too.

No. It wasn’t. “Yes,” Bellini lied.

“I’m. Aldo, I’m scared to hurt you.”

Whilst the sentiment was endearing and deep inside, he wished more men were as caring for their partners as Goffredo appeared to be; he wanted this; he needed this. Just that he couldn’t tell Goffredo that the pain was something he was after; that it was something he wanted to feel.

They… he wasn’t ready for that confession. So Bellini did not tell him, reaching for the spare pillow instead. “Makes things easier,” he said as he began to move it underneath his ass, lifting his body a little.

“Yes, yes,” Goffredo agreed, but his eyes told a different story. He knew exactly nothing about it. Theoretically, maybe. In practice? Rather not. And Bellini didn’t even know if he had fantasized about it the past few days, if he had fantasized about such things ever? And even if he had, reality was nothing like it as he had found out often enough.

Goffredo reached for the lube, poured a generous amount into his hand before he reached for his cock, spreading the lube on it with fast motions. Bellini licked his lips, staring, whilst his thoughts were running riot. Goffredo was still kneeling between his spread legs, and if he kept fisting his cock, sooner or later, he would come all across Bellini’s body: his stomach, his chest, his face.

It was…

Well, it was something Bellini liked; not so much the mess it created, but the implication and everything else his mind made out of that. With Goffredo… Bellini shivered before he drowned in a wave of heat; Goffredo doing that was something else entirely…

Goffredo readjusted himself once more, positioning himself against Bellini’s hole. The first press of its thick head against Bellini’s hole had both of them gasping, with his hand clenching tight on Bellini’s hip. He leaned in further, pressing, cursing, gasping for air, and all Bellini managed to do was reach out to touch Goffredo’s arms as much as he managed.

And then he pushed inside, not exactly with ease.

Bellini tried hard not to let the initial pain show; tried hard not to gasp and squeeze his eyes shut, but the way his back arched gave him away.

“You lied,” Goffredo said, pulling out.

Bellini wanted to slap himself. “Don’t.”

“But Aldo, you said—” Goffredo whispered, obeying Bellini’s request not to pull out.

“I know what I said, Goffredo,” he said, then drowned in a wave of guilt that made him look away. “I’m sorry.”

Goffredo reached for his face with his sticky fingers, making him look back again. “But why?”

Closing his eyes, Bellini pondered his options, ultimately deciding he would not lie a second time. “Because I wanted this… because I wanted you… and because I wanted to feel the discomfort.”

“This is… what is this nonsense, Aldo?”

Nonsense. That was exactly what it was, even though it was much deeper than that. “Can we talk about this, maybe another time?” Bellini asked, and as if to make a point, he pressed back against Goffredo as much as he could.

Goffredo looked doubtful. “Yes. But only if you promise to tell me.”

“I promise,” Bellini said with a nod, then allowed his lips to curl into a smile. “But only if you promise to fuck me now.”

“ALDO!”

Goffredo jerked, and it was the most perfect coincidence because involuntarily, it made him thrust, so hard that he was almost fully in; so deep that Bellini could feel his balls brush against his ass, and he had trouble thinking of anything else.

Yes, there was pain and there was discomfort, but there also was Goffredo, panting above him and staring at him with wide eyes. “Scusa, scusa,” he babbled, absolutely overwhelmed.

“Stop it,” Bellini whispered, allowing his body to adjust to the sensation. “And now start moving.”

“Yes, yes.”

He readjusted himself a little, shifting his weight to his forearms that were close to Bellini’s head, and then he kissed him, trying to thrust, trying to move, all of it at once. And that exactly was the problem: it simply did not work.

For saying he’d never envisioned having sex with Goffredo Tedesco, Bellini had spent a tremendous amount of time imagining how it could be over the past few days; it always narrowed down to Goffredo fucking him fast and desperate with the bed groaning underneath them both, with sweat running down his face and his chest. Maybe, he’d be a little selfish, and fuck, it was something that had gotten to Bellini every damn time.

Just…

Reality was nothing like it. It wasn’t half as good as the foreplay—objectively, it was a disaster. The worst sex Bellini had had in many years. There was a reason why he preferred not to get involved with virgins, especially not virgins who were seventy years old. Usually. Still, they had ended up in bed together, after all, and Bellini had wanted to end up in bed together with Goffredo. After a few shallow thrusts, Goffredo grunted above him, but not in a good way. His face was red, and veins showed on his forehead from the sheer effort to keep his full weight off Bellini; that… and, his struggle to breathe and the fact that he was a virgin. Whilst Viagra had its benefits without doubt, it did not magically erase inexperience and guide clumsy thrusts.

Other positions would make it a lot easier. Bellini riding him. Or Goffredo fucking him from behind. Or. In fact, Bellini did not care which position it would be; he just knew they had to change it before it ended in an actual disaster. “Goffredo, maybe—”

“Aldo, fuck. I—” Goffredo thrusted again, then collapsed on top of Bellini. Or crushed him, literally. Bellini had a hard time breathing with Goffredo covering him from head to toe.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, scusa,” Goffredo’s voice shook like his body as he tried to move off Bellini. “Aldo, are you okay?! Damn it, I didn’t mean, I just.”

The moment Goffredo’s weight was supported by his forearms again, Bellini nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“Bless! I .. fuck, scusa. No, I. This is not working. I’m sorry, Aldo. This is so bad. This must be so bad for you,” he murmured, deeply ashamed. He pulled out of Bellini, sitting back on his haunches. The way he stared at his hands only added to the misery, reminding Bellini of a wet and beaten dog, and we would not be surprised if Goffredo started crying.

“It’s okay, Goffredo,” Bellini murmured, also sitting up to run his fingers through Goffredo’s hair and across his face.

“Really?” Goffredo whispered, still staring at his hands.

“Yes,” Bellini told him, eyes fixed on Goffredo’s cock. That was the good thing about Viagra: despite the disaster and the following mortification, Goffredo was still hard, which was good. “Come on now, nothing bad happened. Why not try out something else instead?”

Bellini knew he had to take the lead for the simple reason that Goffredo could not, no matter how much he wanted to. And so Bellini lay down again, rolling to his side but resting on his front a little. It was a position he often fell asleep, with one leg drawn up to support his weight.

Goffredo looked at him, unconvinced. “Is this even working?”

Bellini knew it was working. Or at least it had worked in the past. Not that he would tell Goffredo that. “Why not find out if it works for you?”

There was still doubt in Goffredo’s eyes. “It must work for you!”

“No. It should work for both of us,” Bellini corrected, careful not to make the situation worse than it already was. “Come here, and let’s try again, will you?”

Slowly, Goffredo began to move, edging a little closer but certainly not close enough. “Are you sure? I’m… Aldo, I’m a virgin. I don’t know.”

“Come. Here.” Bellini said, a little sharper than before.

Goffredo’s cock twitched, and he moved behind Bellini within the blink of an eye. He… No, Bellini had not expected it. Yes, perhaps he should have, given Goffredo’s reaction to a few things he had said in the past days. But they hadn’t been naked back then, and also…

But no.

He wouldn’t dwell on it now. Not when Goffredo guided his cock towards his hole again, not when he pushed in and readjusted himself until he was half-draped over Bellini’s body, still supporting his weight with his arms.

“Don’t,” Bellini told him with a smile. Like this, he was still able to look at Goffredo, at least in parts. “I want to feel your weight…as much as I can in this position, so please don’t use your arms for that.”

Goffredo nodded behind him, and the moment he changed the position of his arms, Bellini took one of them and laced their fingers in front of his chest. It was… fuck, damn it… It was perfect like this, even if Goffredo did not yet move. Still, he felt his cock twitching inside, and he felt Goffredo’s weight on top of him and his breath against his ear.

“Aldo…!” There was so much sentiment in Goffredo’s voice that, over it, he really forgot what he was supposed to do for long moments.

“Goffredo?” Bellini murmured, squeezing Goffredo’s hand.

“Mhm?”

Bellini chuckled, which made Goffredo tense against him. “You are supposed to move…”

“Ah shit, damn it, I’m a failure, I—”

Bellini cut him off, pushing back against him. “Stop blaming yourself. Just move…”

And so Goffredo did, slowly, and, squeezing Bellini’s hand, kissing his shoulders, his neck, just everywhere where he could reach him. He pulled out slowly, a wet and slick sound disrupting the momentary quiet; and when he slid back in, careful and kind, Bellini let out a sigh. It really was nothing like in his fantasies, and it made it all the better for it.

“Eh, I’m still sorry, Aldo,” Goffredo said after some time, bringing up what Bellini had not forgotten about but figured was not worth dwelling on. This position was perfect for him; for both of them, actually, because it was much easier for Goffredo to find a steady rhythm and enjoy himself. It was good, and it was perfect, and Bellini let himself relax into Goffredo’s arms, all the more as he flung one leg over him as an anchor. It was unusual for Bellini to allow himself to trust another person like this; to allow anyone to be with him like that, gentle and affectionate with sweet kisses covering his face.

“Why are you sorry if we found something good for both of us?”

“Because… It’s embarrassing, you know,” Goffredo was telling him, lips brushing against the spot underneath Bellini’s ear that made him shiver. “Collapsing during sex because I’m so out of shape and having no idea how to please you. It’s just…”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” Bellini laughed, squeezing Goffredo’s hand once more.

Goffredo stopped thrusting. “Eh, so if it was good, you would tell?”

“Obviously not,” Bellini stated with a laugh, guiding their twined hands towards his cock. “Also, this isn’t exactly telling it’s bad, no?”

“No, but…” Goffredo didn’t elaborate on that, but unlaced their hands, pushing Bellini’s away. “I told you… It’s for you. I want you to relax, and I don’t want you to do the work, so don’t. Let me instead…” And whilst he said it, he began stroking Bellini’s cock tenderly whilst searching for his mouth.

They kissed and they laughed about the mishap from before, and for long moments, Goffredo didn’t move at all anymore, just relishing in the sensation of his cock being buried in Bellini. Bellini did not mind; they had all the time in the world for this tonight now that they had figured out how to make it work. And then he did move again, slowly and without any haste, trying to match his thrusts with the rhythm of how he moved his hand around Bellini.

It was… Bellini had no words to describe how he felt. Them, like this, was stunningly beautiful; Goffredo’s weight draped all across him with heat radiating from every inch of his skin. The way he kissed and the way he touched; how he spoiled him and made sure Bellini was comfortable with everything throughout.

It was…

No, Bellini still did not have the words for it.

He was so careful and tender and affectionate in a way Bellini had never thought him capable of being; Goffredo Tedesco, brusque, quick to anger, selfish usually. But not now, not tonight. That realization was enough to bring tears back to Bellini’s eyes. He tried to blink them away, but did not succeed. They caught in his lashes and eventually streamed down his face.

At first, Goffredo did not notice.

When he did, he froze from head to toe. “Aldo… are you… are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Bellini shook his head. “No, on the contrary.”

“But why are you crying, then?” He inquired, relaxing but still not moving.

“Because…” Bellini’s voice broke. He tried again, crying even more. “Because it’s the opposite of hurt… I’m… overwhelmed, I guess.”

Yes, it was that. Even though the feeling of overwhelm was an understatement.

It was something else entirely, a feeling which Bellini so far had not dared to acknowledge out of fear. Just that the feeling rose like the tide with every touch and every kiss; it bloomed in his guts, and it took shape and form all around. It was so colorful and light and at the same time so heavy he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Love.

Four letters, a simple word.  

And how could he not love the man pressed against him? Reflecting on the past few days, it was beyond him how he had never seen beyond Goffredo’s public persona; of who he proclaimed to be (and also was). Just… love wasn’t what their relationship was built upon. He and Goffredo weren’t like that, no matter how much that unmistakable feeling coiled in his guts.

It couldn’t be.

Not after so many decades.

And yet.

Goffredo began to thrust again, in the same slow rhythm he had set before, and he also resumed kissing Bellini’s throat and his head and just every inch of his skin he could reach. Over many years, Bellini had established a certain pattern to guard his feelings and his heart. Whilst he had struggled initially with it, he had become accustomed to his own boundaries soon enough. Lawrence aside, the brick walls around his heart had saved him. But Lawrence was different; they had never fucked, so their connection was different from everything Bellini knew.

So yes, he had been successful for decades—so why didn’t it work tonight, or with Goffredo? Why was he falling and falling and falling without the chance to stop it?

Shame.

Five letters.

Equally simple. Just that it was not that. He wasn’t ashamed of having sex with Goffredo, but rather about what that made him feel, and how to cope and how to address it.

Tomorrow, maybe.

Tomorrow, he could lose his mind over all that.

But it was hard to push it out of his thought when every thrust made him feel warm and cherished and loved… Just like Goffredo had promised, he spoiled him, took his time; kissed him and stroked him, and whispered his thoughts and feelings right into Bellini’s ear. There was no shame to these words, no holding back; he was as he always had been: brutally honest, which Bellini wished he could also be. To acknowledge what he felt as he lost track of time and space in Goffredo’s arms.

Sometimes, Goffredo stopped moving altogether. He brought their lips together, barely moving until he smiled against Bellini’s own and all Bellini could do was smile back at him. He tasted of wine and summer and love; of the nuts he had been eating, and faintly also like the vape. And then he would kiss Bellini, hard and deep, and resume moving again until Bellini moaned into his mouth and melted underneath him. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but for once, he could not, lacking the courage and also the words for it. Goffredo also did not use words sometimes. He nuzzled into Bellini’s throat and thrusted slowly, making Bellini’s body quiver underneath him; then he would quicken the pace of his thrusts but also of his hand, perhaps not even registering how close Bellini already was. Each roll of Goffredo’s hips made him a little more sensitive; made him a little more desperate, and judging from how Goffredo’s rhythm stuttered, faltered, he was also close. And the noises, the grunts and the moans and how he rasped Bellini’s name like it was a prayer, it was so good, and it was so much, and it was…

“I’m close,” Bellini choked out, thrusting into Goffredo’s hand whilst Goffredo kept their bodies pressed close and tight together.

Bellini might have expected many things coming from his confession, but not that, never that. Instead of increasing the pace or edging him, Goffredo brought his mouth close against Bellini’s ear and began to talk, “Aldo… please… fuck damn it, I’m—” he moaned, then continued, “Aldo, I like you… You, I like this… all of this… it’s… like in the story, just better. So much better. You are better, and it’s just… I don’t even know. I never met someone like you. I never liked anyone before you, not even a little. There’s warmth, you know, and there’s you, and your smell, and your skin, and, damn it, I want you, Aldo. I—"

Assisted by Goffredo’s voice, which elevated everything, the slow-built pleasure was becoming too much; too much sensation and too much want, and when Goffredo reached for his face to make Bellini look at him, he failed to hold back any longer. Goffredo held him, then kissed him, and ultimately fucked him through his climax, saying everything Bellini failed to voice or even acknowledge.

Love.

Four letters.

“Aldo, fuck, I don’t know… ah fuck, I… I’m happy when I’m with you, always.”

 And then Goffredo’s voice broke as if the words were enough to make him come. “I’m here, Goffredo,” Bellini murmured, guiding Goffredo’s hand towards his mouth, kissing the back of it, then his fingers, individually.

Goffredo moaned and sped up his thrusting, once, twice, and actually it was a pity that he had stopped talking because Bellini wished to hear it again and again and again, but other than choked moans, nothing came out of Goffredo’s mouth when he came buried deep inside Bellini.

Goffredo leant down, kissed him hungrily until he was dizzy and desperate for air; he was pinned, trapped, lost… sated and content, caught underneath Goffredo’s weight whilst still floating in endorphins.

*

They lay in each other’s arms for what felt like forever.

Goffredo stirred first. He yawned, then stretched after sitting up, eyes fixed on Bellini’s face. Much to Bellini’s surprise, there was nothing of what he had dreaded to witness; no guilt, no shame, no loathing—Goffredo seemed to be entirely at ease with the situation; of just having lost his virginity with a man. Well, actually, it was more than that: he looked absolutely happy, even if a little tired.

“You are okay?” he murmured, running his fingers over Bellini’s cheeks.

Bellini nodded, forcing himself to ignore the mess they had created. “Very much so, yes.”

Instead of cleaning up, he rolled to his side, stretching out as much as possible to reach the nightstand without having to get up. Somehow, he managed, retrieving an ashtray, a pack of old cigarettes, and matches before he settled back in Goffredo’s arms, who had half lain down again, with his shoulders resting against the headboard.

“ALDO! You smoke?”

Rarely so. But yes. “Sometimes.”

Maybe, twelve times a year, and usually right out of the window. But he couldn’t be bothered with that, either. Goffredo’s chest was too comfortable and warm for that, even if Goffredo possibly could do with some fresh and cold air. His face was still covered by a thin sheen of sweat and very red underneath.

“Can I have one?” Goffredo asked, eyes fixed on the package now

Bellini hadn’t seen Goffredo smoking for years. “I thought you stopped smoking in favor of your vape?”

“Yes. And no. I did, but vaping after sex. No, no, no. Disgusting. I want a real one. Real sex, real cigarettes.”

Whatever unreal sex even was. Probably his hand. Bellini bit back the laugh, showing him the inside of the pack. “I’m sorry. It’s the last one I have.”

Goffredo sighed, then nodded.

Bellini lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. It was the best cigarette he’d ever tasted for sure. “But we can share?” he offered, exhaling.

“Really?”

Bellini said nothing, moving his hand holding the cigarette towards Goffredo’s hand. “Here.”

“Didn’t know you could be nice.”

Bellini snatched his hand away. “Excuse me?”

“Just joking, just joking. Please?”

With a smile, Bellini handed the cigarette to Goffredo. “Here.”

Goffredo took a deep drag; a drag too deep because it made him cough. “Eh, it’s so dry it must be very old.”

“If you don’t want it, give it back and stop complaining,” Bellini said, leaning towards Goffredo’s hand that held the cigarette to take a drag.

“Eh, I barely complained tonight,” Goffredo muttered, ignoring the dryness of the tobacco and taking a deep inhale.

“So what? You want a prize for that?” Bellini laughed, deciding he had smoked enough for tonight.

“You still owe me the prize from the bingo!”

“Wasn’t I prize enough for you tonight?” Bellini said, and only then realized what exactly he had said.

With the cigarette almost gone, suddenly, Goffredo’s voice became very small. Bellini couldn’t help to wonder what thought led to that. “Aldo?”

Bellini blinked at Goffredo, rather startled, and the conversation about the prize was entirely forgotten. “What?”

Goffredo’s expression did not change. He seemed to be very nervous all of a sudden. “Can I stay?” he murmured, extinguishing the cigarette and putting the ashtray away.

Bellini was mildly irritated. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Goffredo would not stay tonight after everything they had done and were still kind of doing. “Did you really think I’d kick you out?” he wondered, trying his best not to think about why his heart was suddenly racing again and why his palms were sweaty.

Goffredo stared at the window, tense as a bowstring. “No, no, no. But still. Maybe, you’d prefer to sleep alone?”

For once, it was Bellini who closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Goffredo’s .“No.”

The kiss seemed not entirely convincing. “Are you sure?”

Bellini resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Instead, he reached for both of Goffredo’s hands, then shifted to make sure his face was right in front of Goffredo’s. “Never been more sure than now. On that matter, Goffredo…”

Goffredo’s entire face lit up. “Yes?” he asked with a smile, so big it stretched to his ears.

“Previously, you complained about the uncomfortable bed in the Casa Santa Marta, which we are all familiar with. So… I have no idea how long you intend to stay in Rome, but why don’t you stay here for the rest of your visit? You spent more time here anyway than in the Santa Marta.”

Goffredo coughed. “Really? So… you mean.”

Bellini nodded, lying down against Goffredo’s chest again. “Weren’t you talking about home already earlier today? Didn’t you say ‘let’s go home’?” he asked, relishing in the sensation of how Goffredo looped his arm around him to pull him even closer.

“Why do you remember everything?” Goffredo muttered, drawing idle patterns on Bellini’s back. “But yes, I did. And… I’d… No. Thank you, Aldo. Thank you!”

“Because that’s how I am, I’m afraid,” Bellini said, playing with Goffredo’s chest hair. “I remember the most useless bits, I can’t help it. And thank me for something else, but not for that.”

Silence of the comfortable sort fell during which Bellini failed to grasp what he had just offered. He shouldn’t be surprised; giving Goffredo the keys to his apartment right after the first night spent together had been something, so this was only the natural consequence of that. And it was true: if Goffredo wasn’t wandering around during the day to get Viagra for the night, they had become inseparable…

After long moments, Goffredo’s voice tore him out of his thoughts. “Aldo… can you answer me that? Why is this author so… so fixed on the dynamics? About you being bottom, as she calls it, and me being top? Doesn’t make sense, eh?”

Bellini chuckled because that question really was one he absolutely had not expected to be asked. In fact, he hadn’t thought about the story since they had ended up in bed together. Not about Bellesco, let alone all the rest. “Because some people have strong opinions, especially on things that aren’t even their business.”

“Right? How is us their business?” Goffredo muttered in mild annoyance.

“It isn’t,” Bellini said, not sure if he wanted to have this conversation right now. Why couldn’t they cuddle a little more and go to sleep afterwards? “But let’s be fair: without the author writing this thing, this—us—wouldn’t exist.”

“True, true, true, still,” Goffredo agreed whilst Bellini still wondered how to change the topic to something else. “Why are they so fixed on that, eh? Maybe others aren’t.”

There was an implication to Goffredo’s statement of which Bellini wasn’t even sure Goffredo was aware of. “If I recall correctly, a lot of people have asked for the other way round in the comments?”

Suddenly, Goffredo tensed.

“What now?” Bellini asked, very curious now, as the reaction to the statement was entirely off. What did it matter what people did in the comments?

“I…. I…” Goffredo sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I asked for links, eh.”

Bellini blinked in irritation. No. Surely, he had misheard. “So you are telling me that you asked about links for bottom!Tedesco fics in the comment section?”

Goffredo was very red and very embarrassed. “Yes, yes.”

Bellini burst out laughing.

Goffredo shoved him, making a face. “Why Aldo? What’s so funny? This…this is not funny.”

Actually, it was very funny imagining Goffredo asking for fic recs in the comments. “I laugh because I also asked for some recs underneath a comment a few days ago…”

“YOU DID?! No, Aldo, you are joking, right?” Instead of shoving him, Goffredo hugged him a little tighter.

“I am not joking,” Bellini said, punctuating every word. This… the story was a curse, and it was a blessing at the same time.

“No, no, no, so are you…” Goffredo reached for his cassock and then his phone, and it took forever until he had unlocked it with his sweaty fingers and found what he was searching for. “So.. so JupiterAscending… is that you, Aldo?! It... the name suits you!”

Bellini sighed. Not long ago, he had carefully covered his archive alias so that neither Goffredo nor Sabbadin could see it. “That is me, I am afraid.”

“VapingVirgin, eh. That’s me. Aldo, we communicated through the comments! Before we made out with each other, eh?!”

Bellini laughed again. “Who would have guessed that’s you?”

“Eh, it’s not so obvious!” Goffredo snapped; the way he held Bellini absolutely did not match the flaring temper.

“It wasn’t Goffredo. I wasn’t even sure you had an account there, and also, there are similar names around.”

“Yes, and Il_Duce I saw. And PatriarchofVenice is around. People have no shame.”

“Don’t get angry about that now,” Bellini said, unwilling to have Goffredo’s temper ruin the evening if only for a few moments. “Should we check if there are bottom!Tedesco stories instead?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Goffredo said, eyes alight with excitement. Now, changing the topic was far easier than Bellini would have thought. “I mean… are there even more Bellesco stories?”

In fact, Bellini had no idea. He had never checked the archive for other stories. Yes, maybe, he should have, but then Goffredo had happened, and he hadn’t done quite a few things, his work included. “I don’t know. But given the popularity of the original story, I would be surprised if there aren’t.”

It took Bellini only a few clicks on his phone to pull up the archive and navigate it with ease. Sure enough: there were eight stories featuring Bellesco already in the archive, three of them a gift to GodlyFujo, inspired by the original story. Without a second thought, he gave the phone to Goffredo to take a look at what he found.

Goffredo scrolled, gasped, scrolled some more, then said in irritation, “Aldo! Eight stories about us? That’s insane. Why are people writing this, eh?”

“It seems… the last Conclave sparked a certain interest in us and especially the Holy Father,” he explained the obvious. Surely, Goffredo must have heard about all the social media hype each of Innocent’s appearances provoked? The photos and the speculations, and how his homilies were picked apart. Positively by those who embraced his progressiveness, torn apart by traditionalists.

“Yes, of course. I know, Aldo. But this? Porn stories?”

Yeah, well, that point was very valid. Objectively, it should not exist, but then, everything existed on the internet somewhere, hidden. And that was the thing: without the brown envelopes, nobody of them would have even been aware of this story existing.

“And porn art…,” Bellini reminded Goffredo with a laugh, knowing well how much he loathed those arts.

“Noooo, don’t mention those…,” Goffredo whined, staring at the screen of Bellini’s phone. Bellini shifted in the embrace, sitting up so that they could look at the screen together.

In bed. Naked. After having sex…

Somehow, Bellini still failed to wrap his head around it.

The individual stories were much shorter than the original GodlyFujo story, something between 2000 and 15000 words, with titles like, ‘How to Seduce your Archenemy in Five Steps’ or ‘Rosaries in the Dark’ or ‘A Game of Shadows and Want’  and, Goffredo burst out laughing at the next one, ‘Asking for a friend: is it ethical to ignore your bedmate is a fascist?’ – as varied as they were in what they featured they had one thing in common… they all were top!Tedesco and bottom!Bellini, the front notes reading more or less similar, ‘Sorry guys, just like the original story, this is top!Tedesco and bottom!Bellini, I want to see that bald twink obliterated. No excuses!’

“The fuck! These… these… Can’t be that there’s not a single different one. That’s a shame, and I—”

“It seems like that, I am afraid,” Bellini stated, then realized it was an opportunity too good to miss to tease Goffredo about it, even if it was a little more than that. He still remembered the way Goffredo had reacted earlier when he had ordered him to move and how he had ordered him to strip. “You are desperate for bottom!Tedesco it seems.”

“Noooo, not desperate, but… WHY NOT?! I don’t understand it, that’s all.”

“So you would read a bottom!Tedesco story?” Bellini inquired.

“Yes, of course. That’s stupid, eh? All of that, isn’t it? Why can’t I be both? Enjoy both? Doesn’t make sense.”

Bellini blinked into the half-darkness, not quite sure when exactly Goffredo had become so vocal about these things, so… open? Not that he would complain about it, but still.

“Fine, fine, what if I were to draft a little story featuring bottom!Goffredo? Given I’m not overly busy tomorrow, I could—”

Goffredo turned his face towards Bellini. “ALDO! You don’t even write!”

“Who tells you I don’t?” Bellini said, wondering why exactly he was telling Goffredo about that now.

Goffredo narrowed his eyes, an unreadable expression flitting across his face. “Do you?!”

“Not in a long time, no.” Bellini shook his head, deciding there won’t be any secrets tonight. “At least not fiction. I wrote a lot when I was younger…”

“Stuff like… like this?” Goffredo wondered, and though it was said as a tease, it hit closer to home than he might have expected.

“Sometimes?” Bellini said, very vague. It was true that he had tried his hand at poetry and rather explicit stories in his younger years. Those weren’t even the problem as they had never been published. The problem was that he had never stopped to write. For decades, he had written letters. Letters addressed to Thomas Lawrence, which he had never sent, detailed and prosaic, filled with hurt and want and regrets. Letters, which he had destroyed right after writing them, although a few had survived the years, were tucked away and hidden in one of his drawers. But that was something he would not tell Goffredo about, even if Goffredo knew about his yearning for his closest friend. He’d take this secret to his grave, just like the secret about Lawrence and the Holy Father. Whilst he was willing to share everything else with Goffredo, his apartment included, these two things were excluded from the list. But maybe he should finally get rid of those letters from decades ago. It was about time, finally… now that they had found closure at last.

“ALDO! You are shameless!”

“And?” Bellini laughed, to which Goffredo said nothing. “You like me shameless. But not now. The day was exhausting, and it’s long past midnight, so we should try to sleep, no?”

“Yes, yes, but only if you tell me the rest. I interrupted you,” Goffredo was saying, sliding down the headboard so that he could lie flat down.

Bellini mimicked his action so that they both faced each other. “Fine. Since I am not overly busy tomorrow, I can draft a little story with reversed dynamics compared to the original story and those stories it sparked. And you can read it afterwards and add your suggestions and changes. How does that sound?”

“Me? Adding suggestions?” Goffredo reached for Bellini’s face, cupping it.

“Of course, or would you rather not?” He knew some people preferred not to, but Goffredo? He was positive that Goffredo wanted to add a lot of things once the first draft existed.

“I don’t know, let’s decide tomorrow. And now switch off the lights and come here…”

Yes, but also no. Bellini was absolutely unwilling to get up, but the main switch was next to the door, and so he didn’t have another choice. And, maybe, a little fresh air wouldn’t cause harm, either, and wearing pajamas and actually fresh sheets. Bellini rose, opening the window much to Goffredo’s delight, then switched the light off and closed the window again before slipping into bed next to Goffredo.

As soon as he had lain down, Goffredo curled around him, spooning him from behind. The position was rather similar to before, just that the want and need had ebbed away. “That’s so good,” Goffredo whispered. “Like this… do you think you can sleep like that?”

Given how tired he was, Bellini was positive that he could, at least tonight. “I think so.”

“Good, good,” Goffredo was saying, looping his arm around Bellini’s waist.

There was a soft press of a kiss to the top of his head and a murmuring voice, sweet and warm, even though Bellini failed to understand what Goffredo was saying. He was already about to drift into sleep, engulfed by Goffredo’s warmth.

Goffredo stirred, then murmured, “Aldo?”

“Mhm?” Bellini murmured back, rather sleepily.

“Nothing,” Goffredo was saying, kissing Bellini’s throat. “I was just wondering if you were already asleep.”

Bellini rolled his eyes in the darkness. “How can I be if you ask me every five minutes if I am asleep already?”

“Scusa, but…” Goffredo whispered, tensing a little behind him.

It was enough to have Bellini feel apologetic for rolling his eyes. There was something that stopped Goffredo from relaxing, something he couldn’t get himself rid of and that seemingly couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning. “What?”

“I… Aldo, what are you doing for Christmas?”

Bellini snorted. No, he hadn’t expected a story about Christmas; in fact, he had hated the Christmas season and its fake happiness all his life. “Doing what a faithful and good cardinal does: going to mass, obviously. And before that, I planned to attend the official curial Christmas Dinner.”

“Not that! After that,” Goffredo said, rather heatedly. It was a strange reaction, because that was what they all were supposed to do. “After all of the Holy Father’s masses are complete and over.”

“I don’t know,” Bellini said with a shrug. To him, the days between Christmas and New Year’s were like any other day. “I usually stay in Rome between Christmas and New Year’s and try to work a little less than usual. Why do you ask?”

“I… Aldo, if you’re not busy, we could—” Goffredo was uncharacteristically serious, and the realization of what he was about to ask rattled in his skull like a thunderstorm.

Bellini ended the sentence for Goffredo. “Go to Venice?”

Behind him, Goffredo gasped, and Bellini decided to turn around to face him. This was a conversation he wanted to have face-to-face, even if he barely saw Goffredo in the darkness. The moment he had turned, their noses brushed and Goffredo kissed him.

“Well…” Goffredo swallowed, on the verge of tears. “Well, yes… But not right away… After yes, but first… Aldo, I want to show you where I grew up. Our village and what still stands of our farm. Where I stole the sausages I told you about and the church and the cemetery where Fabianna and my mother and father, and my grandparents are buried. I want you to see it, and I want you to know the place where I grew up, where we searched for stuff from the war in the forest. So… so for you to have a visual image whenever I talk about this place, and maybe it helps you to understand me a little better. I want you to feel the wind sitting on the hilltop, and I want you to smell the earth, and see the sky turn dark from where I sat so often as a child. And then… yes, we should go to Venice, definitely. Not for Venice itself, no. But I want you to meet my brother and sister, Aldo. The two that are still left. Nobody knows how long they’ll be with me and how long they’ll be healthy enough to receive visitors and recognize them. So… I want you to meet them.”

Bellini tried to speak, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe. There it was again, the warmth he had previously felt; the knowledge of what that meant, or could mean, the feeling he had not dared to acknowledge. “Goffredo…”

Over the many years, Bellini had learnt a lot of things as a curial cardinal. He had learned to read the Curia’s secrets, had learned every weapon there was, and over time how to wield it; weapons that were words, letters, and smiles. Even polite conversations with people he detested came easily to him by now; ironically, it had barely worked out for conversations with Goffredo Tedesco in the past. What he had mastered to perfect in Rome was not to ask for the things he wanted: how to live a life of forgetting what true want even was, and that sometimes enduring misery for a while was all it took. Ultimately, it would always pass or at least become bearable in a year or two. It always had. And it would again with enough time.

Just…

He was sick of that life of denial he had led for so long. Soon enough, there wouldn’t be time anymore to want anything, a quick and painless death aside. So it was either now—or never.

Goffredo’s voice broke through the haze of Bellini’s thoughts. “I mean it, Aldo. I want you to meet my family. What is left of them.”

Sentiment threatened to overwhelm him. “I… I would like that,” Bellini murmured. “That… and also spending time with you… away from here.”

Goffredo caught him in a crushing embrace. “So we have a deal?!”

“Seems like it,” Bellini whispered, blinking away the tears and unsure if the sentiment hadn’t already seeped into his voice.

“Don’t you want to…?” Goffredo whispered back, misinterpreting the tremor in Bellini’s voice as doubt or uncertainty.

The thing was: the opposite was the case, and that exactly caused the overwhelm. “On the contrary,” Bellini was saying, edging so close to Goffredo that not even a sheet of paper fitted between them. “I’d like to go more than anything… with you,” he began, and after that, the words just poured out of his mouth. “Goffredo, I can’t explain it, but I want to know you, and I want to understand you and spend more time with you. I want to be held in your arms, tonight, tomorrow, on New Year’s. I… The next year. When I’m with you, my chaotic mind is quiet and I laugh and I just am happy…”

“Aldo…,” Goffredo was brushing his thumbs over Bellini’s eyes, very gently. “I… I feel the same. All about that, you know? I want to be with you… kiss you… hold you… be there for you. Grow old with you…”

The words made Bellini’s heart swell in his chest, and the tears fell freely despite him smiling like an idiot.

“Aldo… I told you… But I’m telling you again. I want you, and I—” Goffredo’s voice broke from overwhelm.

Bellini looked at Goffredo, his face illuminated only by the small amount of light that fell through the window. Despite his size, he appeared so small and vulnerable how Bellini had never seen him.

“Stay with me.”

Goffredo pressed their foreheads together. “Yes.”

“Yes,” Bellini echoed against Goffredo’s lips before he kissed him.

*