#thomas raggi imagine

[tempobrucera]

Fire Alarms & Love Hearts

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas

Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.

Words: 10.1k

Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that

A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

._____.

It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.

"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”

You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"

He giggles.

"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.

Now you are the one laughing.

“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."

You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.

When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.

“Hello neighbour,

I would like to ask you out for dinner.

If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.

P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)

P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.

Thom"

You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.

It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.

"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.

He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.

"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”

“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”

His eyes go wide.

"Shit!"

He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.

He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.

"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."

You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.

“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“

You laugh.

"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."

He smiles back.

"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”

“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."

"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."

You start laughing.

"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”

“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."

You smile at him.

"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.

He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."

It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.

"We should do that again."

You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.

"Yes. Definitely."

"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."

*_____*

Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.

"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.

"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."

"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.

"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.

He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.

"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."

*_____*

Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.

"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."

You smile.

"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."

He blushes.

"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.

"I didn't say that."

He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.

"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.

"That sounds great," you say.

He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.

"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.

"What would that be?"

"A bet."

He raises an eyebrow.

"What would this bet involve?"

"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."

He laughs.

"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."

"Maybe, maybe not."

He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

"We'll see," you say.

And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.

The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.

"Can I try yours?" You ask.

"Yes, if I can try yours."

You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.

"This is amazing," you say.

"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"

You're smiling, shaking your head.

"No, it's good."

"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"

"Don't make me answer that."

He chuckles.

"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."

"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."

"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.

He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.

"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"

He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.

"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.

"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"

"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."

"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."

"Adorable."

"Not."

You're shaking your head.

"Definitely."

He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.

"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.

"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"

"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.

When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.

"What?" You ask.

"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."

You chuckle.

"You can have another one if you like."

He nods and kisses you again.

*_____*

When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.

He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.

He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.

When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.

"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.

He blushes.

"Thanks," he whispers.

He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.

"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.

He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.

"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."

You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.

"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."

He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.

"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.

"Thank you."

"I hope we can do that again, soon."

"Me too."

You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.

He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.

"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.

*_____*

After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.

"Hi neighbour," he says.

"Hi," you grumble.

He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.

"What's wrong?"

"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."

Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."

"They better be," you say.

You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.

"Is this your doing?"

He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."

"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."

"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.

You look at them both.

"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."

The firefighter sighs.

"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.

"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."

Thomas sighs, but he agrees.

"Fine."

"Good," you say.

It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.

"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.

You shrug.

"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."

"Good night," he says.

"Night."

He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.

*_____*

The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.

Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.

"Fuck," he whispers.

"What is it?"

"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”

"Still."

"It's fine."

He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.

"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.

He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.

He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.

"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.

He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”

"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.

"Yes, please."

He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"Shit," he breathes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.

You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.

You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.

"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.

"It's fine."

"It's been a while."

"You can't control these things."

He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.

"I'll make it up to you," he says.

"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."

"Still," he says.

*_____*

Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.

Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.

Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.

"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.

"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.

"How's the birthday boy doing?"

"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Girlfriend?"

"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.

"Okay, boyfriend," you say.

He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.

"I like that," he says.

"Me too."

*_____*

He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.

He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.

You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.

"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”

"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.

"Close your eyes."

He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.

"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.

"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.

"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.

You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.

"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.

He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.

You raise an eyebrow.

"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"

He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.

"Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," he admits.

You laugh.

"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."

"Fuck, yes," he breathes.

"Lie back and relax."

"I can do that," he says.

You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.

"Oh god, please," he gasps.

You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.

"Fuck," he gasps.

"Can I?" You ask.

"Please," he begs.

You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.

“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”

Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.

For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.

“You enjoy that?”

"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.

"You ready for me, birthday boy?"

"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.

You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.

“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.

You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.

"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.

He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.

You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.

"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.

"It was," you say, kissing his temple.

"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.

"Stay, I'll do it."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.

"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”

"It was a pleasure."

"What about you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”

"You did?"

"Yes."

He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.

"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.

"There's no need," you whisper.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.

"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.

*_____*

A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.

Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.

"You're staring," she says.

"Yes," you answer.

She's grinning.

"Do you need help?" She asks.

"No."

"I know a lot about him."

"I don't doubt it."

"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.

“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”

She's grinning, and her eyes light up.

"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."

"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.

She looks at you confused.

"No, but why would you think that?"

"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."

"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”

“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."

"So, what do you have planned so far?"

"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."

"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”

“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"

"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"

"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”

“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”

._____.

Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.

His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.

"Fuck," you gasp.

"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.

"Fuck," you say again.

He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.

"Thomas, please," you beg.

He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.

"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.

Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.

He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.

You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.

"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.

He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Are you tired already?"

"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.

"You'll get one," he says.

He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.

He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.

"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.

"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.

"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.

"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.

You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.

"Thomas, look at me," you say.

He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.

"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.

"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.

"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.

“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.

He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.

He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.

"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.

"Please, what?"

"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.

"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”

He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.

"Shit, I'm close," he moans.

Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.

"Fuck," he groans.

"Yes, indeed," you breathe.

*_____*

“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.

“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”

“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”

“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”

She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

._____.

It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.

"I have a present for you," he says.

"So do I," you smile.

"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.

He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.

"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

You take the bracelet and put it on.

"It's so beautiful, thank you."

He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.

"And now your turn," he says.

You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.

"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”

"I'm glad you like it."

"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”

“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.

._____.

When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.

At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.

"One day I want to see them with you," he says.

"Someday, maybe."

"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.

The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.

“What’s your favourite,” he asks.

"You're my favourite," you whisper back.

"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”

"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.

"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.

"So, which one is yours?"

"That would be the Orion nebula."

"Why that one?"

"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."

You look at him.

“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."

He's laughing and kisses you.

._____.

When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.

“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."

He laughs.

"That sounds wonderful."

You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.

"Oops, sorry," he laughs.

"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.

You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.

“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.

"Yes, that's right," he whispers.

He's smiling and kisses your nose.

"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.

You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.

"Do you need a hand?" He asks.

"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.

"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."

You smile and giggle.

"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."

"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."

You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.

"Yes, it is."

He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.

"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.

"I love you too."

He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.

“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"

You're giggling.

"Yes, I would like that," you say.

His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.

"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."

You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.

"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.

"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."

"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.

His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.

"God, you're so wet," he moans.

"Thomas," you gasp.

"Mhm?"

"The sauce, it's burning."

"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.

"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.

“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"

"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."

“Making out? Or just distracted.”

“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”

"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.

"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.

"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.

"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.

"That sounds like a good plan," he says.

"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..

You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.

“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.

He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.

"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.

"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.

"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."

You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.

“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"

"Maybe," you laugh.

"I love it," he says.

"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.

"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"

"Tell me," you say.

"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.

"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.

"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.

"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.

"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.

"Yes, very," you smile.

"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.

His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.

He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.

He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.

His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.

“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.

"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.

"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"

"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.

“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.

He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.

“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.

"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.

His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.

"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.

"Yes, please."

His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.

He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.

"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."

"Yes," you gasp.

"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."

"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.

"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.

"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."

"Yes, yes," you whimper.

"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.

"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."

"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.

He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.

“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."

He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.

"Yes, please, I would love that."

You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Touch me," he says.

"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.

"Anywhere," he moans.

"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.

"Yes," he whimpers.

"And here?" You lick his abs.

"God, yes," he moans.

"What about here?" You circle his cock.

"Yes, please."

"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.

"Fuck, yes," he groans.

"Where else, should I touch you?"

"On my thighs," he breathes.

"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.

"There, please," he pants.

Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.

"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.

Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.

"There too," he whimpers.

You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.

"Yes, there," he moans.

Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.

"Can I?"

"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.

"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.

"Are you close?"

"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.

"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.

"So good," he whispers.

"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.

"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."

"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.

He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.

"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”

“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”

He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.

"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.

"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”

“Okay,” you say looking curious.

“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.

"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.

……

Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one with Thomas' fingers

Description | You have a sudden realisation about Thomas... and the way his fingers move.

Content | Smut, fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Thomas Raggi

Word count | 4300

***

It hadn't supposed to happen. This… realisation. Not after years and years of being friends, not after years and years of seeing them everyday, then every week, then every month, as they rose to stardom. There was simply no reason for any of this to bubble up below the surface, rise and rise, and breach your line of consciousness now. But it did. It did, as you were sitting in an expensive seat at the arena, eyes transfixed on the screens that showed a detailed close up of Thomas’ fingers as he played his perfect solo.

You had seen it, watched him, hundreds of times before, probably quite literally that often if you added up all shows, impromptu sessions, rehearsals that you'd attended over the course of your friendship. Had gotten countless opportunities to study him, learn him by heart, but somehow, this overwhelmingly important detail had passed you by without notice and all of a sudden, you couldn’t tell how.

If someone were to ask you, afterwards, what song had been playing at the exact moment it all changed in your brain, you would have been at a complete loss. All that seemed to matter was keeping your eyes on the screen, wishing you could be close enough to see it for real, silently lamenting all the chances you’d had without making use of them, as Thomas’ fingers continued moving over and with the strings, and you wondered if you’d ever seen something that beautiful.

Any hope of behaving normally when the show was over went straight out of the window as you made your way backstage, immediately bumping into a sweaty but deliriously happy Thomas, who almost knocked you over in the process, only just managing to hold onto your wrist, his other hand quickly finding the small of your back, pulling you back.

“You okay?” he laughed, easily, carelessly, but your brain was going and going and going and whirling with the sensations of how his fingers wrapped around your wrist so easily, slender and careful and rough at the same time.

His face was too close to you, eyes trailing over yours. You could feel the heat emerging from his body, could smell it on him, the exertion of two hours on stage, his chest bare, acutely aware of how you were pressed against it. Never had you ever wanted Thomas, had never even considered it in earnest, jokes about hooking up with one or the other member of the band flying around easily, but none of it seemed as funny now.

“No,” you sighed back, then immediately realised what you said and how his breath was hitting your skin and untangled yourself from him. “I mean, yes. Of course.”

“Having a normal one, you two?” Damiano asked as he passed by, giving you a much-needed opportunity to remove yourself from the situation and you took it gratefully.

“Oh, always,” you replied, not with a lot of conviction and followed him towards their dressing rooms, hoping for Ethan and Vic to join you sooner or later. Anything that kept you from being alone with Thomas as your heart went on a rollercoaster so fast it almost made you sick.

Your wish wasn’t granted.

As Damiano disappeared into the room, Thomas snuck an arm around your waist, holding you steady and steering you away. You didn’t have it in you to protest or fight it, letting the man lead you into a different room, letting him close the door behind the two of you, letting your breathing even out as much as you could. It didn’t last for long when you turned around and once again caught sight of his bare chest, a singular drop of sweat finding its way along his nipple and towards his soft belly.

“Are you sure nothing happened?” he finally asked, drawing your eyes away from their tantalising view and up towards his face. “Normally you’re as ecstatic as we are when we get off stage but tonight you’re just… quiet.” He mustered your face, as if he could find any clues in it. You could feel a blush threatening to rise. You had never been this awkward in his presence, but now that you were, you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. “I’m just worried. If you want to talk, I’m here, or I can get Vic for you or-”

“Everything’s fine,” you interrupted him in what you hoped was a reassuring tone. What would you normally do in this situation? It seemed like your brain wouldn’t provide you with the necessary information. Hug him, you subconscious whispered to you. Touch him the way you would any other day of your life.

But it wasn’t any other day of your life and as much as your fingers itched to reach out to him, a different part of you was screaming at the implications of it all. But his eyes, his eyes, you had never wanted to worry Thomas a day in your life and seeing him now, knowing you were the one to cause these feelings in him, had you fighting against every fibre that convinced you to keep away.

Your hands found his neck, reaching up to softly place them against his skin, thumbs stroking along the rough stubble that was starting to form on his chin again, a familiar move that had never felt stranger before. You wanted to be normal so desperately but all of your moves caused reactions you hadn’t anticipated.

“We’re fine,” you told him, even though he hadn’t explicitly asked. You needed him to know, more than you needed him in that moment. His breath was hitting your face as he leaned in and you fought the part in you that screamed for you to recirpocrate the gesture and the one that wanted to pull away to safe yourself. Instead, you let yourself fall into the moment, just a little bit, let him kiss your temple, let yourself indulge in him with all your senses.

“I don’t think I could handle it if we weren’t,” he whispered in your ear. You couldn’t either, you thought. You really couldn’t.

It’s why you moved away form him, pried your fingers off his face, not letting yourself miss the feeling of his skin under yours, and put on your fakest smile. He didn’t need to know.

***

Two weeks. The band was gone for two weeks, travelling over Europe, doing more shows, promos, no time to come home, and you were left with your thoughts. Well, with your thoughts and too many videos to be found online that had you hyperfocusing on Thomas’ fingers as they played the loveliest of riffs.

You didn’t want to think about the amount of time you spent in your bed, cuddled up underneath blankets, your hands between your legs when you couldn’t take it anymore, time and time again. It was innocent, you told yourself, a simple fantasy, something temporary, you were single and bored, a slight loss of sanity every time you recalled the way Thomas’ fingers curled around your wrist, imagining how it would translate to your neck, your thighs, your breasts. It wouldn’t change anything. Surely.

There were text messages, the odd video call, from all of them. You followed their journey via social media, not quite part of it, but adjacent enough. And you counted the days until they were back, your best friends, the most missed parts of your life when they left, no matter how much you supported and loved them for doing what they were passionate about. Yet you couldn’t help your anticipation growing with every hour until you got to see them again.

***

The party was a mess. You had arrived two - three? - hours ago, falling into the arms of Vic and Damiano immediately, which was followed by chasing down Ethan, who pressed a kiss to your hair and told you he had missed you. Thomas was harder to come by, a quick shout of hello, hi, give me one minute as he was carried away by some of his friends in an apparent effort to get him to do a keg stand (American much?).

Now everyone was drunk or way past it and after dancing to yet another song you didn’t know with Vic, you finally pulled yourself away, accepting the drink that was pushed into your hand on the way, and made your ways outside. The pool in the garden was covered, just in case the cool breeze wasn’t enough to discourage people from jumping in. Your aim, however, was one of the sunchairs at the edge of it. An opportunity to get some air, away from everyone else, and lie down, trying to get the spinning of your head under control.

Sliding down on the lounger a little, you hoped it would hide you from anyone else venturing outside, hide you from the moonlight illuminating you, but it wasn’t to be. You barely had time to move the drink to safety, dripping some of it down your chin and your neck, before a body squeezed onto the space with you, moving you just enough that neither of you would slip off. The armrest was digging into your back, pressed against your spine as you turned to your side to study Thomas.

He was drunk, or on the verge of it, looking back at youwith blurry eyes, strands of his hair falling into his face, he didn’t bother to push them away. He was beautiful like this, wild and carefree and young and a walking, talking temptation. You could feel a drop of alcohol slip from your chin to your chest, having almost forgotten the near disaster with your drink. Thomas’ eyes were trained solely on your skin now.

He discarded his empty beer bottle, the sound almost scaring you as the glass hit the ground, but your focus was set on him, his fingers, the way they were reaching for you now as everything else faded into background noise. The urge to flinch was barely suppresible as his fingertips touched your chin and ran along the length of your neck, delicately tracing the way the alcohol droplets had taken, until they reached the edge of your shirt, stopping just moments before they would hit the fabric. They left a line of goosebumps in their wake as your body was set aflame, your breathing growing heavier.

Quickly, he scooped up some of the liquid that had pooled there, wiping it off with his finger, before bringing it to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick it away. You hated how audibly you reacted to him, a little whimper, saying so much more than any words ever could. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to put it in his mouth, give you even more of a visual than you were already getting treated to, but then he dipped it into the liquid again and held it out to you.

Your brain wasn’t quite catching up with you, leaving you in a stupor as you stared back and forth between Thomas’ finger, dripping with liquid, and his face, an anticipating look painted all over it, his own mouth slightly open, watching you just as intently. He tapped against your lower lip and as if on command, you opened up for him, letting his finger press down on your tongue, the taste of your drink mingling with his own.

The switch was tangible as you curled your tongue around his finger, closing your lips to swallow more of it into your mouth. If you hadn’t been sure if the attraction was one-sided before, you suddenly had the clearest indicator that it wasn’t. Thomas didn’t attempt to hide his moan. Fueled by a new kind of confidence, you grabbed onto his hand, leading another finger towards you, letting it join the first one. His movements were uncoordinated, restless, his hips rutting against nothing but clear air between you.

Thomas leaned over, his fingers still firmly planted in your mouth as you lost yourself in the taste and the feeling, pressing his lips against your cheek, carefully, then onto your chin with more force, travelling down and down your neck. You arched against him, gasped around his fingers, exposing more of your neck to him as you turned your head, his tongue licking a long stripe against your skin.

You didn’t know what would have happened, out there, squeezed together on the sun lounger, intertwined in ways you had never been before, but whatever you imagined didn’t matter because none of it happened right then and there. With a loud crash, the background noise came back to you twice as loud as it had been before, it tore you apart in shock.

“Where the fuck is Thomas?” a voice called from inside, then the sound of the door to the backyard being opened. Thomas moved away from you in an instant, jumping up from where you were laying. He spared you one more look, somewhere between surprised and disappointed, before running inside.

You stayed right where you were, trying to catch your breath and silently committing the view of the way his trousers had tightened to your mind forever.

***

“Please tell me that Thomas isn’t cooking,” you exclaimed as you stopped in front of his house with Vic. All you knew was that you’d been invited for an evening of food with the boys as she had picked you up at your place and led you through the streets of Rome.

“Oh god, no,” she replied quickly. “Damiano wants to cook, but his kitchen is being remodeled and Thomas’ is as good as new, ‘cause he never uses it.”

“Alright, I’ll close the food delivery app then.”

The chaos was already in full swing by the time you both arrived in his apartment. Damiano was screaming at Thomas to get the hell away from the stuff as the other desperately attempted to sneak a taste, spoon in hand and halfway to the pot of sauce simmering. The splatter of red against the kitchen tiles told you it wasn’t the first time this had happened. Ethan, meanwhile, was speeding around the table in the middle of the room, desperately trying to catch up with Thomas and keep him from causing more havoc.

In an instant, however, Thomas spotted you, almost climbing over a chair that had been pulled back to get to you. Effectively using you as a human shield, he hid behind your back, arm wrapped around your middle to keep you in place as he ducked his head down, trying to make up for the height difference.

“Don’t!” he shouted. “She’s innocent! Don’t let her get caught up in the war!”

“You’re the one who’s putting her in the middle of the battlefield,” Damiano replied dryly.

“Well, love is a battlefield too, isn’t it?” Thomas pulled you back further his other arm reaching around your shoulders now, hand flat against your chest, just underneath your neck. Your skin was tingling at the contact, you found yourself pressing backwards against him against better judgement.

“That makes no sense,” Vic judged, “but you do you, I’ll set the table for whenever you’re done with… that.” She gestured towards the two of you. You almost spoke up, almost tried to explain your way out of it or laugh it up but Thomas simply said “Got it” and walked the two of you backwards until you were out of sight. His hands on you the whole time.

“Hey you,” Thomas whispered in your ear, too close for comfort and not close enough at the same time, pressing a kiss against the side of your face as he held you.

“Hey,” you breathed back, entirely distracted by the way his fingers trailed upwards. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.”

You gasped, audibly, as they slowly started caressing your neck, softly at first, then moving to wrap around it. Keeping you safe and secure, the only lifeline as you felt yourself falling apart. A little squeeze.

“You love my fingers everywhere, don’t you?”

You didn’t have it in you to disagree. The whimper gave you away as he grasped onto you a little tighter, leaving you breathless in more than one way.

“Maybe we should find out what they feel like in other places, too.”

The arm that was slung around your waist suddenly moved, grazing the fabric of your dress, almost, almost going between your legs, moving over your thigh, and then suddenly, all you felt was a freezing cold in the places he had touched you as he let go completely. He took a step back, but you didn’t manage to turn around, didn’t manage to move, check his face.

Instead, all that left your mouth in the most pathetically broken voice was, “I think dinner’s ready.”

***

The realisation, the lingering thoughts, the pining, the flirting. You didn’t expect the resolution to come in the middle of the night, but it did, in the form of a knock and whisper of It’s me through the door. He looked tired, sleepy even, and you were pretty sure he was wearing pyjama pants. Had he come here straight from home? Had he been in bed already? When he realised that whatever was on his mind was important enough to deal with right there and then?

You let him in without words, unsure of where to go or what to do, both of you left standing in the small hallway, looking at each other in the dark, trying to figure it all out through nothing but the way the other’s eyes glimmered.

“Can I?” Thomas asked. You didn’t know what he meant, didn’t know what he was referring to, what he wanted, but you nodded, always, anything. It didn’t matter. What had started with a friendship and had been interrupted by a sudden urge was evolving into something more, something more tangible, something everlasting with lightning speed. You allowed him to take the reigns.

He pushed you against the wall, gently enough not to hurt you, but his fingers were pressing into your hips in a way that had you feeling it in your bones. You melted under his touch and then, then his lips were on yours, finally, and it was perfect in a way that made you want to cry. You clawed at his back as you pulled him closer. You had been wanting this for so long, possibly so much longer than you had been actively aware of, that this felt like a release.

You couldn’t tell how you made it into the bedroom at all, your thoughts deeply clouded with nothing but Thomas, Thomas, Thomas but then you were on your back, sinking into the mattress, and your top was being pulled off and you couldn’t get your fingers to stop shaking enough to get him out of his own clothes as well. He didn’t seem to mind as he tenderly removed every piece of fabric covering your body, fingers and lips exploring what he exposed.

As he leaned back, throwing his shirt somewhere into the depths of your room, he stopped in his tracks, studying your body, the way your chest heaved with every shaky breath, how your hands were already reaching for him again, craving the closeness. He looked utterly breathtaking, pale, soft skin, every hair on his chest leading you down, down, down, your hands in his hair, nothing but an insatiable need in his eyes.

Carefully, his fingers traced invisible lines on you, your cheek, over your mouth, not allowing you to open up enough to get a taste of him, your chin, your neck, a hint of the grasp he’d had on your earlier, down to your breasts, feather-light touches on your nipples, down your stomach.

“Where do you want them?”

Your eyes darted between his fingers and his face and you knew that he knew. Had figured out your obsession, your constant thoughts, your innate need.

Your reply came in the form of your legs falling further apart, thighs spreading, inviting him between them. Thomas gave you the faintest smirk, already preoccupied with fulfilling your wish as utter concentration filled his face. You weren’t sure if it were down to him being insecure, unsure whether he could satisfy you appropriately - because as soon as he touched you, right there, you were reduced to a moaning mess, unable to keep any noises to yourself, all silent fantasies finally answered as he traced along your wetness and finally, finally pushed a finger into you.

Your hands fell from his body momentarily, letting yourself fall into the sensation that surpassed every single night you’d laid in bed and imagined this very moment, had tried to recreate it with your own fingers, unsuccessfully, as you now found. Nothing could come close to the real thing.

Leaning back down towards you, the angle of his wrist changed ever so slightly, making his finger slide inside of you even more perfectly. You desperately clawed at his back, silently begging for more, only to feel all air leave your lungs as he let another finger join at the same time as he put his lips against your neck. He immediately stilled, seemingly alarmed by your lack of vocalisation, but all you could do was whisper pleas into his ear and pull him back into you.

Your hands wandered lower, clumsily, and distracted with every single one of his movements, until they found his trousers, trying to push them down but failing miserably. Thomas let go of you, carefully pulling his fingers out, leaving you to cry out at the loss, already missing his warmth, the stretch. He made quick work of the rest of his clothes, barely giving you a moment to take in the view, to realise you finally had him all to yourself, naked and perfect, before he was back on the bed with you.

You moved to push him down, reaching for his hard cock, but he pressed you back into the mattress, gentle fingers ready to leave bruises.

“I just want to be in you,” he breathed. All you could do was kiss him, again and again, and tell him to do it. With a quick grab, you managed to get a condom out of the nightstand, handing it to him with shaky hands that had nothing to do with nervousness. He took it from you, letting you watch as he put it on.

Thomas’ whimpers composed symphonies in your ear, his dick gottenyour thighs, his hand holding onto it, pushing inside of you. If his fingers had had you close to seeing heaven, you were sure you were transcending into paradise now. Wrapping your arms and your legs around him, you pulled him closer, closer, almost making it too difficult for him to actually move, but your brain was focused on nothing but Thomas and the way his skin felt against you, the way his breath was hitting the shell of your ear in harsh bursts, the way he felt inside of you.

You were unravelling embarrassingly quickly as he picked up his speed, fucking you fast and hard, but you had no time feeling unconscious about anything, not with Thomas making you feel like this, moaning into your ear, getting closer himself. You just about managed to squeeze a hand between the two of you, touching yourself through the impossibly close contact, and within moments, you were barrelling towards your release.

When you came undone, it was like a flood you hadn’t known to be held back inside of you finally breaking out, the sensation travelling through your body, letting you feel it deep in every single bone of your body from your toes to your skull, vibrating with the intensity of it, unsure where you ended and Thomas began as he, too, came, harshly grabbing onto your flesh.

You felt yourself stuck in a trance, barely registering when Thomas pulled out, laid down next to you on the bed, held you close. Your breathing seemed to take forever to calm down, as did the beating of your heart, but when both finally did and the world shifted into focus again, it seemed clearer and sharper than ever before.

He gently ran his hand down your face and turned it towards himself, you were more than happy to oblige, putting your lips on his. You couldn’t get enough of him. You weren’t sure if you ever would.

“When did you know?” he asked, quietly.

“Know what?”

“That you wanted me back.”

“Wait-” You sat up a little, propping yourself on your elbows to get a better look at him, but he simply pulled you back into him and pressed another kiss to your mouth. “Wait, want you back?” You studied his face but you found no lie in it. “I had no idea you liked me.”

“I’m in love with you,” he smiled

You couldn’t quite say it back, not yet. As intense and deep as your feelings ran, for you, this was new and delicate and on the edge of scary. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to catch on.” His lips so soft against yours. You suddenly couldn’t recall how you had ever not been falling in love with him, had ever thought anyone else could have been that one person for him but you. Now you couldn’t ever imagine not knowing. “I’ll make up for it, forever, if you let me.”

His hand on the back of your head was holding onto you securely and where the sensation of his fingers had only brought lust and need before you could now feel it intertwine itself with something that was so much more.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

***

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[hxllfires-gifs]

PAIRING. thomas raggi x fem!reader

SUMMARY. måneskin is competing in eurovision and thomas’ girlfriend surprises him with the help of their friends, to support her lover who thought that she would be staying home because of work.

WORD COUNT. 897

Y/N L/N WALKED around the airport after her flight finally landed and she gathered her luggage. She had flown to Rotterdam in order to surprise her boyfriend Thomas. The grand final of Eurovision was later on and there was a specific time that she needed to meet her friends at the venue. She made plans with Victoria, Ethan, and Damiano to surprise the youngest member but she also wanted to be there to support her friends.

She had a taxi take her to the place and she was met by Victoria who ushered her to the backstage area. She would be sitting in the green room with them once the finals actually started, but for now she was ready to see her partner. The two girls walked for a little longer before the H/C haired girl came to a stop. She could heard Thomas’ voice speaking to Ethan and Damiano most likely.

“What is this surprise?” Thomas asked, a tiny bit annoyed that his friends were trying to keep something from him and would not tell him. He had asked about it like fifty times, yet he still got no straightforward response.

“We will tell you soon, just be patient!” It was the singer who spoke up this time, his voice being louder than he intended. “You are going to love it, that’s all I can say for now.”

Thomas rolled his eyes at the two other males, not wanting to talk about it anymore because of the fact they were so hush hush. He wondered what could be so important but everyone in the band could be a little on the unpredictable side sometimes. Who knows what they had in store for him.

“Stay right there for a second,” Victoria’s words were more quiet so that Thomas was unable to hear. She turned and walked back into the dressing room with a smirk present on her face, not attempting to hide anything from the younger male.

Her slight mischievous energy gained his attention, causing him to focus on Victoria completely. “Why do you look like that? Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” His words held a teasing tone to them.

“Why do you assume I did something?” It wasn’t long before she feigned offense, not able to do it for too long though.

She glanced at Ethan and Damiano, who had the same type of expressions on their faces. It was time for them to reveal the big surprise. The bassist was excited to see how her friend would react. His girlfriend had been working a lot recently and originally thought that she wouldn’t be able to go to Rotterdam, but fate had different plans.

The de Angelis started explaining what she and the other two had been keeping from Thomas. “We are finally ready to tell you about your surprise. You’ve seemed a little…disappointed recently, so we wanted to cheer you up with someone special.”

This was Y/N’s cue to made her presence known so she joined the band in the room and her eyes immediately landed on the guy she loved so much. A look of disbelief had flashed upon his features but it was soon replaced with happiness. Thomas walked over to his girlfriend and wrapped his arms around her, feeling tears in his eyes that he tried to keep at bay.

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t able to come because of work. Are you staying for the finals?” There were so many thoughts in his brain that he almost couldn’t keep up.

Y/N laughed, finding his reaction a little funny but more-so precious. “Yes, I am staying for the finals and afterwards. I’ll go back home with you guys. I honestly thought I wouldn’t but I worked something out with my boss and she let me take a couple of days off. I talked with these three about surprising you and hopped on the first flight here that I could get.”

She rubbed his back once she felt his hands fidgeting, which was a habit that he had picked up because of her. He was the happiest person and it was obvious in that moment. The girl stepped back a bit and it didn’t take long for their eyes to lock with one other’s gaze. He had a couple of tears that escaped, which made Y/N frown for a split second.

She wiped them away before kissing his cheeks. “Angel, I’m here, okay. I came here to support you guys. I could never miss out on something as big as this.”

“I was convinced that I’d have to do this without you, but I’m happy that you’re here now.” Thomas’ confession almost broke the L/N’s heart but she was over the moon that she could be here in person to cheer him on like he and their friends deserved.

“I hate to break up this sweet moment but we have to finish getting ready,” Damiano reminded his band mates.

Y/N placed a hand on her boyfriend’s arm and smiled once more. “I’ll be here all night so go and get ready, rockstar.”

Thomas playfully rolled his eyes but did as she and Damiano said, going to change into his outfit for their performance. It was going to be a crazy night but he felt like it would be ten times better now that Y/N was with him.

[filthforfriends]

The Hybrid (Part 4)

Damiano x Thomas Omegaverse

Word Count: 6.9k

CW: mentions of abuse and also god might smite you for reading

They snuck out of Damiano’s building the back way, leaving a note on the table in case the security force came to check on him. The less the government could track their whereabouts, the better. 

The Raggi’s lived in a small apartment in a giant complex. Damiano had always wondered why they didn’t pick a better location. With Thomas’ job, he could definitely afford to move his mom somewhere cozier. Dami then realized that it's a lot easier to blend in, to be inconspicuous, when you look and live the exact same as hundreds of units. Even if the security force did arrive, it would take several precious minutes to find the address.

“Head down, hair in front of your face,” Thomas murmured. 

“What about sun glasses or a hat?”

“No, it’ll look like we’re trying to hide. That's more likely to get us in trouble than some bruising.” Getting out of his nice, warm, comfortable nest had been terrible. The apartment smelled foul and everything reminded him of Samuel: the mediocre, the bad, and the ugly. Thomas made them both shower all the pheromones off, change clothes, and laundered the dirty ones. Dami didn’t realize how comforting the scenting had been until it was gone. Everything felt too raw and sharp. 

They didn’t even touch after showering to reduce the production of pheromones. Damiano wanted to cling to Thomas, but wasn’t allowed a hug and it was brutal. In the car Tom drove with all the windows down. Even though he wasn’t chilly, Damiano started shivering and couldn’t stop.

“Are you cold?” He shook his head no and Thomas refocused his attention on driving, jaw set. He’d coached Damiano not to display any affection, not even signs of a close friendship. Dami knew that this was for his mate’s protection and would therefore follow instructions exactly. Nevertheless, Tom’s embrace in his nest had been the only thing that made one of the worst days of his life bearable. This stoicism made him feel so isolated that Damiano wanted to cry from loneliness and his breath caught in his throat.

“Take a deep breath. Remember that I love you.” The omega clenched his teeth and focused on not gasping for air. Damiano willed himself to keep it together a while longer until they were safe.

“I love you too.” Out of instinct, he reached towards Thomas after getting out of the car. They were always connected in some way: an arm around someone’s shoulders, waist, or hips. A hand on the back or musing someone’s hair. Holding each other in some way, playing with the others outerwear, usually in an effort to bring them closer. No, they hadn’t been inconspicuous enough.

Damiano followed dutifully behind Thomas, not completely confident in his ability to remember the location of the apartment. When they reached the door, he didn’t knock, just stood close to the keyhole. After a moment, his mother opened the door and shooed them inside. The place smelled of food, but Dami wasn’t sure what. He was just getting his bearings when Thomas crushed him in a hug. Showering him with compliments while moving the hair from his face, he kissed his forehead then lips. 

“You did so well, caro mio. I’m so sorry you had to do that, but you were amazing and perfect. I’ll do my best to keep you from doing something like that again.” Kiss. “And I’m so proud of you.” Kiss. “You were poised and composed and casual. I don’t think anyone noticed you did such a good job caro mio. I love you so much, cucciolo and I’m so lucky…” The ache in his ribs caused Damiano to tune him out. The shivering has stopped, as has the unease from Samuel’s smell, and the fear from being somewhere he could find Damiano. The omnipresent exhaustion from spending hours in fight or flight kicked in and he was slouching, giving Thomas his weight. 

“Woah, I got you cucciolo.” Damiano felt himself being swept off the ground. So close to the blurring light fixture the rays started to give him a pounding headache so he closed his eyes. The next feeling he registered was his shoes being taken off, and found himself on a bed with pink roses embroidered on the sheets.

“How long have I been asleep?” he mumbled, discombobulated.

‘Uh, about 45 seconds,” Thomas chuckled, pulling a shoe off. Thomas' mother blocked the hallway light when she entered the room, and put a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Drink this.” A straw was held up to his mouth, and the liquid thick, like a smoothie or meal replacement, probably with electrolytes.

“Thank you Marcella,” he slurred.

“Sit up for me dear,” she coaxed, that hand on his back pushing him upwards. Damiano sensed Thomas, felt the bed shift, and saw him leaning over. With the help of his mother, he pulled off Damiano’s top layers, and yanked his coat out from under him. He left the room which caused a pang of anxiety.

“Tommy –”

“He’ll be right back, bambino. Drink more.” Dami makes a noise of dissent, but Marcella reminds him of his own mother, so rejecting self care is not an option. She’s known him for too long not to force her maternal instincts upon him. Thomas does walk back into the room, and immediately reaches for the button of Damiano’s jeans, who this time makes a grunt to indicate scandal and chokes on his smoothie. Thomas laughs and actually smiles for the first time today, so it's worth it.  

“Unless you want to sleep in jeans, that is?” He pulls the pants down, and off, carefully replacing them with old pajamas. 

“Cold,” he hears a female voice say, only registering that it's a warning from Marcella when the contusion ointment meets the bruised skin of his ribcage. Damiano hisses in pain, but feels his hand being held by Thomas, who's sitting in the middle of the bed. He thinks that Dami has his eyes closed, that he doesn’t see Thomas turn his back because he can’t bear to watch, and who puts a hand to his mouth to repress the urge to be sick. Marcella’s touch is steady when it moves up to Damiano’s face. She pauses.

“Caro, let's put a shirt on him while he’s still awake.” Tom doesn’t trust his voice, just pulls the ratty long sleeve he brought from his childhood bedroom over Dami’s head, guiding his arms. He takes the glass back to the kitchen as an excuse to leave his mother’s bedroom, but ends up setting it on the counter and running to the bathroom. Thomas turns on the sink hoping that his omega couldn’t hear the retching, couldn’t hear this total crumbling of strength. Would he have been able to do this without his mom’s help? Maybe, maybe not. 

Like a coward, he stays in the bathroom until his mother’s gentle knock on the door. The wobbles on his feet, emotionally exhausted in his own right.

“Is he asleep?” Thomas asks, opening the door.

“Yes. Come eat, let’s talk.” Marcella is barely tall enough to hold her son's face between her hands. Tom stoops over to embrace her. She feels small and delicate, like the skeleton of a bird. This perception of fragility is the thing that finally brings Thomas to his knees, both emotionally and physically. Marcella strokes his hair as he cries, kissing the crown of his head lovingly as he had done to Damiano just minutes ago.

“You did everything right. Getting help, coming here, loving him. I know it's jarring to learn that he’s not invincible, but you’ll adapt.”

“Will I?” he sobs.

I don’t expect you to be superhuman, and neither does that boy who’d follow you to hell and back if you asked. You held back for as long as your biology would let you.”

“And now what?”

“Now we contain this for as long as possible while still letting you live your life.”

“And after that?”

“A discussion for another evening.” It was a relief to confide in his mother as he sat on the living room couch. Every 20 minutes of ranting she would give him something new to eat or drink. Finally, Thomas didn’t feel alone in anything, and the urge to cry abated. 

Marcella stroked her son’s head, who had grown up and was a foot taller than her. His soft, blond hair had been the same since she held him as a baby, when Thomas was new and delicate, and so tiny. She remembered being able to hold the grown man beside her in one arm. When she’d gotten the diagnosis, Marcella laid infant Thomas on her chest and felt the pitter-patter of his little heartbeat against hers. She watched the shadows her son’s long eyelashes cast on his flushed cheeks as he slept, and tried to figure out an ethical thing to do. As the full moon moved outside the window, the shadows on Tom’s face lengthened then shrunk to nonexistence. Marcella decided that she could not fix her baby, because he was not born broken. 

During that endless night, she thought about all the inevitabilities. That one day her child would grow up, and he would love someone so much that his choice to refrain would be taken from him. That would be a joyous day, whether he be a fully fledged omega, or a hybrid. Marcella could never have anticipated how messy things would get on the way there. 

“He’s so beautiful,” she hummed. “He always was, but his energy has changed. He’s more receptive, less prideful.”

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”

“The relationship?”

“That…but knowing who I am. He showed me.” She nodded thoughtfully, then seemed to come to a decision.

“Then everything is as it should be.” Her peaceful expression sours after a moment. “Except what the monster did today.”

“I wish I could hurt him, do permanent damage,” Thomas seethed.

“But you were made for better things.” This was a mantra he’s been raised on. When met with the urge for retaliation, violence, or aggression, Marcella would remind her son. This was, ofcourse, because Thomas didn’t have the physicality to take on an actual alpha and could get mortally wounded.

“The frustration and inadequacy you’ll feel is rooted in a society that views physical harm and control as desirable conflict resolution tactics.That is not a society whose opinion you should care about. Be good to those you love and let love compel you to do good. Not violence.” Marcella sits back and unclasps her hands. “You should sleep now,” she instructs.

“I don’t know if I can,” he sighs, looking at the kitchen clock. “How is it only 9pm? Christ, okay.” He groans as he stands up and walks to the linens closet. 

“What are you doing?�� his mother inquires.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch and you’ll sleep in my bed, right?” 

“No, you should sleep with your mate. I put Damia in my room because you can barely fit on that tiny mattress of yours. I’ll sleep there.” Thomas opened and closed his mouth twice, face feeling hot.

“I, I – but we don’t need to be in the same bed! We’re not gonna do anything.” Marcella raised one eyebrow and looked at him quizzically. She was a matter of fact woman unintimidated by any conversation. 

“If he wakes up in the middle of the night a knot might be the most comforting thing.”

“Mom,” Thomas groans in mortification. They talked about everything, but part of never having a mate or sustained relationship was that there was no reason to talk about this.

“I assume that's a function the two of you have figured out?”

“Oh my god, can we please not talk about this?”

“Thomas Raggi,” using his full name was never a good sign. “There is nothing gross about omegan reproductive biology, just because it’s not your biology,” she scolded. “The reason we’ve made it this long is because I had all the information and could research it.”

“I know that,” he lamented. “Yes, that part works.”

“And what other parts work?” Thomas sighed, looking at the floor when he responded.

“Bonding, scenting, and glands, but it's uncomfortable.”

“Not marking?”

“We haven’t tried. I wasn’t sure I’d be safe and I was right. Victoria recognized my alpha scent from his nest today.”

“Alpha scent? So it’s not the same?”

“No.” Marcella started scribbling down on a notepad. She’d likely spend the whole evening pouring over the stacks of books concerning hybridism that she hid between the walls. It was an ever growing collection of not necessarily banned, but somewhat incriminating literature accessed via a loose board and lots of ingenuity.

“There’s also this thing, where we can comfort each other using pheromones.” Thomas didn’t see his mother surprised often, but the expression flashed across her face before she resumed writing at a frenzied pace. Thomas waited until her pen slowed.

“So what do you think?” He regarded his mother’s advice above all else, sometimes even his own reasoning. 

“I think marking might be the most healing thing for Damiano, and the best for both of you. It's the natural progression. I think he should understand exactly what he’s getting himself into first. Too many people know for this to stay quiet. Victoria will be trustworthy for a time, but Samuel is going to indict you as much as possible. It's almost inevitable that you’ll be detained, even if you’re just accused of having a romantic and sexual relationship with another omega. With your history, they’ll ask questions and your mate could be implicated too.” Just the thought of Damiano being put in harm's way has Tom choking on his panic.

“I’m gonna check on him.” Thomas opens the door slowly, a slant of light illuminating Dami’s form under the pink comforter. His back is turned, so Tom tip-toes in to get a look at his face. Damiano’s expression is peaceful, such a stark contrast to the bruising that marks his face. His body has automatically favored the uninjured side in his sleeping position. It’s immediately too much for Thomas and the nausea comes back. He quickly leaves the room, propping his forearms against the kitchen counter as he collects himself.

“He’s still asleep,” Thomas announces as he walks back into the living room. “I think I’m gonna sleep out here so I don’t disturb him.”

“Thomas –”

“Mom, I can’t even look at his face,” he divulges. “I don’t want to exist in a world where bad things happen to Damiano.”

“And like every other alpha, you’ll have to reconcile the fact that terrible things are going to happen to your omega, and you’ll be powerless to stop them.” If not for his slumbering mate, Thomas would seriously consider outright screaming in frustration.

“But how, mom? How!?”

“Center him in everything you do. An alpha’s world revolves around themselves until they find a mate. It's not about you anymore, Thomas. It’s not about your preferences, it’s about what he needs and –” A noise coming from the bedroom causes Marcella to pause, and Thomas rushes down the hall. 

“Uh, what, huh? Tommy?” Damiano is half conscious and disoriented in the dark, unfamiliar space. Their voices must have been too loud and woken him. Thomas closes the door behind himself, deciding that now is as good a time to go to lay down as any. Sleep was going to evade him regardless.

“Right here, cucciolo. You okay?” The bed dips as he sits down and shucks his jeans off quickly.

“Huh? I think, um, I…hey.” Thomas crawls up the mattress, rubbing his hand along Damianos form over the blanket so he’d know his alpha was close. Thomas had barely pushed a leg under the covers when Dami tried to snuggle up to him. That was made difficult by the fact that Thomas hadn’t laid down yet. He was immediately too warm with two bodies under heavy bedding. As his head hit the pillow, he felt almost suffocated, claustrophobic plagued by the nerve wracking fear that he was going to fail his mate.

When Damiano actually laid his head on his alpha’s chest, that emotion dissipated and intense affection took its place. Dami wasn’t satisfied with having just an arm slung over Thomas, and slithered so he was almost completely on top of him, legs tangled together.

“You’re here,” he croaked, as Tom carefully wrapped him up, conscious that his arm didn’t put weight on a tender spot.

“I’m here, cucciolo.”.

“But where am I?” Instead of lifting himself up to converse, Dami’s eyes stayed closed and he burrowed further against Tom’s neck, nuzzling him contentedly. Wherever they were, Thomas was here too, which is another way of saying that Damiano was home.

“We’re at my mom’s apartment and I was going to sleep right here, with you tonight. If that’s okay?”

“Mhm!” Damiano confirmed, enthusiastically nodding his head. There was that sick feeling again. How could anyone not cherish him? Thomas couldn’t reconcile reason with reality.

“This isn’t the couch. Did you get a new bed?” he mumbled, voice sleepy.

“No, we're in my mom's room. She’s sleeping in my bed.”

“I fucking hate that bed,” Dami groaned. “Was too small for both of us. Didn’t have an excuse to cuddle you,” he complained. Thomas was thrilled to know Damiano’s inner thoughts from those early years.

“We tried once, remember? You said you were too uncomfortable to sleep.”

“I meant my dick was too uncomfortable for me to sleep. You were spooning me and I was hard the whole fucking night.” Tom giggles and grins into Damiano’s curls. Despite the day they’d had he can feel Dami’s lips turn into a smile.

“You could’ve gone to the bathroom.”

“Oh, I thought about it. But I couldn’t risk you not holding me when I got back.”

“So you just suffered the whole night?” Thomas laughs incredulously. 

“Was worth it.”

“You could have woken me up. I probably would have helped you deal with it!” his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“You were 15. Plus, if I woke you up every time I got a boner from us being in the same bed, we would never sleep through the night.”

“Then why’d you put yourself through it?” Thomas exclaimed.

“You’ve always smelled so, so fucking good,” he moaned. Each word he rutted against Thomas’ hip a little. 

“Okay, I can’t smell that good!” Thomas was feeling shy, but loved being surrounded by all this affirmation.

“Mm-mm, you don’t get it. You’re not fully hormonal, the scent part is so fucking strong.” Damiano clutched Thomas’ thigh between his own so he could rub against it as the memories flooded his mind. “I got a little obsessed with it. I thought you were just the cool, kinda introverted kid that was a wicked good guitar player and fun to be around. And then I started to smell you. Wasn’t sure that I liked it at first, but that evolved into me huffing your dirty gym clothes when to one was around like a fucking pervert.” 

“So you figured out you liked it?” Thomas chuckled, feigning his casual manner. Damiano decides to spare him the teenage fantasies of masturbating in a pile of Tom’s dirty laundry. Also filed under Maybe We Don’t Tell Him Ever is licking Thomas’ dirty boxers when he went to the bathroom and consequently having a toe curling orgasam after thrusting against his mattress exactly four times. Instead of answering Thomas' rather rhetorical question, Damiano surprises him by pushing his sweatshirt up and ducking under the fabric so he can lick Tom’s armpit while scenting him. 

Thomas gasps at the feeling, pulling away because he's ticklish. He feels the same confused arousal as he did when Dami rimmed him during his rut. Dami hangs on, seeking out Thomas’ body when he pulls away, thrusting against his thigh in all their clothes. Tom had been very thorough in instilling in his conscience that they couldn’t have sex tonight. For a moment he forgets why, because Damiano is sober and extremely enthusiastic right now so why not? Oh yes, because if he turned the light on his omega would be covered in bruises from the fist of another alpha.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he rushes out while reaching to switch on the bedside lamp. Damiano pushes Tom’s sweatshirt over his head, who’s subsequently greeted with a glorious view of Dami’s stomach where his shirt rides up: tattooed, tan, muscular, with a smattering of hair and the beginnings of sweat. Christ. The bruising is isolated to one spot, and the swelling in his face has gone way down, so if he’s just self aware when they have sex…no.

“I can’t get hard right now, knowing what happened barely a day ago…” Damiano reaches between their bodies and grabs Thomas’ cock over his briefs. His completely erect dick jumps in response. Dami raises an eyebrow, but after seeing the amount of conflict in Thomas' expression, his face falls. Damiano realizes that he’s probably not going to get a knot, (or what he really wants, to be marked) because his mate has such a strict moral code. Thomas sees the genuine, crestfallen disappointment, and combined with a contradictory gut instinct, he reevaluates. 

“I'm making this about me,” he says slowly, checking that the words feel just as true rolling off the tongue. “This is about what you need. I’m afraid that I’m going to cause further harm because I don’t have the awareness of a real alpha.”

“You’re my alpha,” Damiano counters, straddling Tom’s hips, who’s propped up on his elbows.

“I am,” he smirks, looking up at his mate.

“So you’re a real alpha.” Damiano watches where his fingertips touch the skin of Thomas’ chest, circling each freckle. “And I’m not making my choices in a cloud of hormones. I have near complete autonomy with you, so don’t worry about compensating for the pheromonal influence. In fact,” Dami leans over to kiss a line down Thomas’ chest. “I’ve never been so clear-headed with anyone.”

“Is that your long-winded,” Dami draws a circle around Tom’s bellybutton with his tongue who lets out a sigh. “Extremely sexy way of saying that this isn’t going to make things worse?” He runs a hand through his omega’s greasy hair, only noticing its silky texture. Dami catches his hand and sucks on what should have developed into a scent gland, but didn’t due to Thomas’ hybridism. He expects to feel nothing, which is why the bolt of electricity down his arm makes him jump. Dami looks up with a devilish smile, like Thomas’ body is his favorite playground, because it is.

“I think you’d really struggle to harm me accidentally.” There's nerves in Thomas’ wrist that he’s never felt before, awakened by Dami’s insistent tongue. It’s uncomfortable, but also so exciting. His internal glands had matured completely, which made sense since they’re the first to be developed in the womb. Next came the neck glands which were underdeveloped, but not so severely that people noticed if he kept his hair long. However, the glands on his wrists just looked like a scar, which is exactly what Thomas said they were. As a child he had a tragic, rare infection that resulted in them being removed. The government was so desperate to keep any variation a secret, that they came up with the story for him and stuck it in his official medical history.

“Can we stop experimenting now? Do something we know works?” Thomas whined, wrinkling his nose from enduring the discomfort. 

“Of course, principe,” Dami gives the area a final lick. 

“Why are you so far away, come ‘ere,” he coaxes, affectionately. Damiano crawls upwards and Thomas greets him with the softest kiss he’s ever received. It's not a peck, or a brush of lips, just so, so careful. Tom opens his mouth while tilting his head to deepen the kiss, letting Dami press his tongue into his alpha’s mouth.

“Take off your clothes, cucciolo,” he coos. Damiano swings a leg back over so he can peel back his pants and boxers, doing the same to Thomas, who’d usually be the aggressor, but is waiting patiently for Damiano to straddle him once again. Tom notes that he elects to keep his shirt on, pulling it down to cover his abdomen. 

When they resume kissing, Thomas lays back and gently guides Damiano with him. Seeking more contact, Dami flattens his body horizontally, against his mate. Having a layer of fabric between them felt very strange. Thomas’ mouth stays soft and relaxed, minimizing his movement, but making sure every breath was heavy with passion. Now that his hands were free, he gripped Dami’s thighs, where he knew there was no injury. Even after this hellish day, he was starting to slick up for Thomas, who slid his hand over to massage his omega’s rim. His other hand slid under the shirt on Dami’s uninjured side, warm and steady. 

Damiano resumed rutting against Thomas, the stimulation much more intense now that there was no fabric between them. However, every time the hem of his shirt brushed the tip of his cock. To make the process more comfortable Thomas inserted one finger into his omega, putting some pressure on an internal gland. Immediately he was rewarded with a rush of slick and a groan of sensitivity. He applied the natural lubrication from his pubic hair to chest, giving Damiano a surface to thrust against. 

That hand under his shirt, stroked everywhere Thomas was sure was safe. He knew how important skin to skin was for Damiano, for both of them. Meanwhile, he worked a second finger inside, helping Dami get some force behind his thrusts to make them more pleasurable. 

“I want, I want –” he started, likely trying to articulate that while this was great, on his alpha’s stomach was not how he wanted to cum. 

“You can cum inside me,” Thomas offered. The view of Dami’s cock glidingly against his body transcended all higher self. He was aroused to the point of slick. Only after he spoke the words did it occur to Tom that this was a way to give Damiano his power back. Was it his sexual desires or his omega’s best interests that motivated him? Or were those two things already becoming one?

Dami froze for a second, his brain struggling to understand the proposal. Receiving a knot and doing the fucking never happened in the same session, or even the same day (with the exception of a very late evening trist with Thomas.) Damiano’s mouth had stilled and he opened his eyes before Thomas, whose face was relaxed. His lips were parted and brows unfurrowed. He was soft and willing to receive. Dami’s mouth finally caught up with his train of thought.

“Yes. Yeah – yes, um.” He walked his hands back, sitting on Tom’s thighs while he strategized how to rearrange their limbs.

“Is this how you want me?” Thomas asked, and it was like every time they’d hooked up. This was a beloved, familiar, pleasurable rhythm they’d perfected over the years. He parted Thomas’ thighs and knelt between them, rubbing his quads affectionately as he assessed the situation. Thomas had barely started producing slick and there was nothing to prop his hips up with. His bollocks were heavy and tight against his body, skin flushed. Dami decided to prep him in a more accessible position.

“On your stomach,” he directed. Thomas flipped over, laying flat. Dami knelt between his parted thighs. It was unorthodox for an omega to pleasure their alpha in such a subordinate, vulnerable manner. Dami pressed his hand between Tom’s glutes, teasing his hole more than anything else. He tried to get Thomas to relax by kneading the muscle. He gave his cute little butt a playful slap prompting Thomas to giggle into the pillow, which turned into a moan as a finger was pressed inside him, elasticity tested. The more aroused he became the stronger the scent of slick. Soon the room would reek of lovemaking.

Damiano wasn’t drunk on it like he’d been before, but that could have to do with his own lack of hormones. Still, Thomas was always delicious and the urge to taste, to know if something had changed, was strong. He sat back on his heels and reached both hands under Thomas’ hip bones. He pulls Tom’s ass up to meet his face, using his thumbs to part his glutes.

He licked a solid stripe across his entrance to start, then pressed his tongue inside. Thomas squealed and keened, hands gripping the mattress. Normally alpha’s had external glands, not internal. So, while the prostate could still be stimulated, many male alphas outright refused to bottom and went untouched internally. Damiano always thought this was a waste. He loved eating his partners out, regardless of anatomy. They had to let their guard down, which established intimacy, plus the stimulation was excellent whether vaginal or anal.

Of course, actually being able to taste them was on its own level entirely. Thomas had always taken a little more work, most similar to a female beta. Damiano never minded spending extra time in bed with Tom, or with the flavor of his slick. It soothed the intense compulsion he had for physical intimacy with Thomas, who had always been a delicacy, his absolute favorite. As a teenager he’d eat him out until Thomas had to ask him to stop, exhausted. The way Damiano would moan between his legs made every orgasam feel like a rush. As a pent up 16-18 year old, he’d go full throttle until the edges of his consciousness were blurring.

Damian could insert a finger and stimulate his glands directly, but his mate was so sensitive that it wasn’t exactly pleasurable. So it was a game of patience, spending time with Tom’s body. Coaxing him to relax had never been so difficult. He was stuck in the dialectic of pulling away from sensitivity, and pushing back against Dami’s face in pleasure. His breath kept catching in his throat as he let out little gasps and whines, which almost turned into pleas: the sounds of a submissive. There was delicious musk that hadn’t been present before, and the erotisicism of topping his alpha was impeding upon Damiano’s decision making. He started to nip at the round muscle of his buttock. If Thomas would just ask to be marked this torturous self restraint wouldn’t be necessary. 

“I want you to be mine,” he growled, thoughts going unfiltered. 

“I’m yours,” Thomas answered, voice muffled by the pillow. Damiano wanted to beg to go a step further, but knew it wasn’t safe. Demanding such a thing would kill the mood, so he pulls back, clenching his jaw shut. Instead he scents Thomas, on his neck and in his hair. Thomas couldn’t get as wet as he wanted, and that was okay. Damiano could use his own slick as lubricant, and they could talk about this tomorrow. 

“Ride me,” Dami demands, pulling away and laying down on the bed. Thomas turns his head at the sound of Damiano’s voice. His honey golden hair partially covers his face, but he pushes it out of the way with his long, elegant fingers, still on his stomach. Even in the low lighting his irises are visibly green, how down turned eyes making him look perpetually somber unless he was smiling. There’s the hint of a scruff on his face and his plush lips are parted to a pant, a couple stray strands sticking in the corners of his mouth. His feral teeth are almost visible and Damiano is struck by such intense fondness that his love for this man beside him is almost crippling. 

Thomas sits up and gets his legs under him. It’s a good thing too because Dami was suddenly on the edge of something he didn’t feel equipped to cope with right now. He helped guide Thomas as he swung a leg over to straddle his omega’s lap. Despite how evolved he was, Damiano had never had his mate ride his cock. Sure a couple hookups had because he was so beautiful that even an alpha would try anything once, but there was a sacred, untouched level of devotion between Dami and Tom.

He reached underneath him, using his own slick to lube his cock. Thomas sank down slowly, letting his body adjust to the intrusion. His hands tugged on the hem of Damiano’s shirt for something to hold. He was so pretty, sitting on Dami’s cock. No man was pretty like Thomas. He didn’t have much muscle definition, so everything looked delicate and soft. He had chest hair, and a dramatic waist. He had plentiful pubic hair and the most beautiful pink nipples. He had a proud, engorged cock, and shapely lips parted just so. Masculine and androgynous in perfect balance. Watching Tom ride his cock was an exquisite sight, and made Damiano refocus on the goal at hand: to cum inside his alpha. 

Thomas straddled his lip, rhythmically tilting his hips upwards towards Dami, letting out little pants. He didn’t need to be directed, Tom was happy to take initiative, with those somber eyes making sure his omega was enjoying the show. His cock was leaking plenty of pre-cum to compensate. Immediately he felt too far away, and Damiano surged upwards, grabbing wherever he could get a hold to bring Thomas nearer 

He repositioned to be upright, arms wrapped around his mate, holding him so close that it was impractical. There wasn’t room to breathe.

“Damia, can’t –” 

“Need to be close to you.” Thomas whined in arousal and felt his chest flush. Losing verbal ability himself, Thomas scented his omega back, and feel the pressure of knot behind his taint.. For a moment he was dizzy, and lost rhythm, so Damiano’s hands were there to help him ride his cock. 

“Keep going, principe. I’m close.” Thomas let out another long whine, this time forlorn and Dami immediately tried to figure out the source of his displeasure so he could fix it. Looking down at himself, he remembered that he’d kept his shirt on for Tom’s benefit. Of course now, Thomas was trying to get a hold of him and was going about it blind. His sweet baby was stressed that his hands were going to bump a hurt spot.

“You can take it off,” Damiano cooed, happy to be done with all the clothing. As soon as he was bare chested, Thomas finally got into it. Slick leaked onto Damiano’s thighs and Thomas clawed at his shoulder blades to bring him closer. His breathing pattern changed and all the focus in his face dissolved as his eyes fell closed. This whole time he’d just needed a lack of barriers between them. 

Again, that feeling of fondness so intense that Damiano wanted to bite down as hard as he could took over. That urge was indicative of orgasam (among other things), and so he tried to push through and maintain a basic level of self control. Now, they were so close that Thomas’ cock was rubbing against Dami’s stomach and leaking pre-cum everywhere. The scent of their slick was already overwhelming, and now that was compounded with salty spink, sweat, and scenting making the room smell sour and heady. Tom’s head lulled backwards and Damiano started thrusting upward, trying to stay in the lead. He wrapped both arms around Thomas’ ribcage and crushed his mate's body against his own. Damiano used the grip to control the sex, holding Thomas still as he drove into him, who let out a little grunt of pleasure each time.  

Dami looked down at Thomas’ cock, receiving sporadic friction where it rubbed between their abdomin’s. The ridge of his shaft started to swell with a knot, and even the minimal contact in that area was intense enough that Thomas was literally drooling. A trail of spit landed on his pubic thicket, glistening where it combined with pre-cum. Dami’s nose was less than an inch away from the right scent gland on Tom’s neck. Can I finish without marking him? For a moment Dami considered stopping the whole thing. If Thomas came now, it would be hard to get another knot and the weight of exhaustion was felt behind his eyelids with every blink.

“Don’t cum, don’t cum,” Dami begged. “Please don’t cum, please don’t, please don’t.” Tom tensed his entire body to hold orgasam back and the resulting pressure internally caused Damiano to finish. He bit into his hand to spare Thomas, and started crying from the pain. He could taste blood and feel it against his lips. 

The second Damiano could relax his jaw he pushed Thomas off and flipped over onto his side to receive a knot. His normally conscientious mate was less than a minute away from orgasam, and pushed in Dami immediately. With his face out of view, Damiano tried to control his breathing as the knot formed, so the amount of emotional intensity wouldn't devolve into a worrying hysteria. Tom is able to knot him immediately following it up by a couple desperate thrusts. He forces himself not to race towards orgasam, stilling inside for a moment while he rearranges their body’s. One arm goes under Dami’s neck, the other around his waist.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers into his mate’s hair, feeling a rush of serotonin as they bonded. It’s the inexplicable urge to become part of the other because there is no close enough. He wanted to melt into Damiano, like butter left out to soften too long. Thomas resumes movements, hips stuttering as he tries to slow things down and fails. The splash of hot spunk behind Damiano’s belly button, should ground him and Thomas tries to help by reiterating his earlier words.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” he chants, rubbing his omega’s chest soothingly as he ejaculates inside him. Of course this does nothing but further trigger Damiano’s emotional response to being unable to mark his mate. By bringing them even closer, bonding has made Damiano more aware of the excruciating distance between them. He makes an ugly, despairing sound that isn’t even immediately recognizable as a sob. 

“Damia? Cucciolo?” Thomas props himself up, looking over Damiano’s shoulder to his face which is streaked with tears. Another sob rips from his mouth and he holds his injured hand up to catch it.

“Woah, what's wrong? What –” he moves to pull out so he can properly evaluate the situation, which prompts his omega to make a desperate screech and grip his thigh so he can’t move.

“No! No!!” His voice is shredded, there's not a hint of self awareness. It's the most intense longing combined with the most potent joy and saiation. Damiano is overflowing with feeling.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry! I won’t move, I promise.” He settles against Dami, hooking his top leg over, which gives him something to hold onto. “I’m reaching over to grab the comforter,” Tom narrates, throwing it over them. “What just happened? Did I hurt you?” He forces his tone to stay level. 

“No, you didn’t,” Dami sniffles, trying to stop a cry from ripping forth. “I bit my hand, so I – so I didn’t, um,” sob “mark you.” Sob. “But I really wish I could have,” sob. “I’ve always wanted to and now it’s really, really,” sob, “difficult not to.” Thomas processes the words, kissing Damiano’s cheek a couple times.

“So you’re crying because you’re emotionally overwhelmed, not because something went wrong a moment ago?”

“Sex with you is basically perfect. I never thought I’d cry this much over really amazing sex. I never thought I’d cry this much, period. Ugh!” Dami wipes his face with the back of his uninjured hand. “I’d tell you I’m not usually like this, but…”

“But I already know.”

“Yeah.”

“Because I know you, seeing as we’re officially boyfriends and all that”

“Yeah.” Damiano is smiling now, lacing his fingers through Thomas’. He takes two deep breaths, letting the second out through his mouth.

“Whew! What the fuck,” he mutters, settling. It seems that they’ve just taken the long road to afterglow, because this is a response to sex that Thomas is very familiar with. Dami seems to actually relax back into the bed, and chuckles self consciously. 

“I must be a great boyfriend, randomly giving you two minutes of the most extreme emotional response you’ve ever seen in your life, then just moving on.” He rolls his eyes at himself, which Thomas doesn’t like very much. This emotional dysregulation could be from a dozen perfectly valid things: beginning of a new relationship, terminating a mate, getting a new mate, enduring physical abuse, being reminded of past trauma, having your home made inhospitable, being removed from your nest, the desire to mark, having your mark denied, exhaustion, malnourishment and dehydration. By the time Thomas has listed all these off in his head, Damiano is struggling to keep his eyes open, the knot doing the trick.

“I don’t mind at all,” Thomas whispers, pecking Dami's scent gland experimentally. “Sleep now. Talk Tomorrow. Love you.” Thomas reaches behind himself to turn off the lamp.

“Love you,” his omega repeats.

Notes: Ah! I know its not what you wanted, but I was going through my Masterlist and realized the link for this chapter isn't active because I never fucking posted it!

[baddestbittyontheblock]

måneskin fic recs

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måneskin x reader: blurbs+headcannons+fics

୨୧ 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

୨୧ 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

୨୧ a headcanon with må with you being a successful model

-they're wearing earbuds, blasting music into their ears when they remember the they left their phone charger in the bathroom. they don't know you're showering and can't hear you over the music...

୨୧ headcanons with må x fashiondesigner!reader

୨୧ a valentine’s surprise | SMUT, orgy, oral sex, anal play, double penetration, food play, spit play, alcohol  

-You’ve been feeling a little left out in your relationship so your four partners show their love to you with a surprise for Valentine’s Day. 

୨୧ Gettin’ Frisky With The Måneskin Members  | explicit content, gender neutral reader, switch!damiano, hard domme!victoria, vanilla!thomas, sub!ethan, freaky stuff, toys and s/m, oral (both ways), degradation, spit, pain play, brat taming, bondage, sinning cuz rock’n’roll never dies

୨୧ our favourite band with an S/O with bad menstrual periods

| talk abt periods, so dyphoria warning (we'll get back on the totally GN shit tmrw, just filling requests rn), lil bit of swearing and NSFW on Ethan

୨୧ how the members of Måneskin confess their feelings for you måneskin x gn!reader

victoria de angelis

·。🍓 my sweet valentine vic de angelis x fem! reader | Fluff

-Victoria's first Valentine's day celebrating with you is a bit chaotic but turns out better than expected.

·。🍓 date night vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, fingering, oral (female receiving) and bdsm dynamics

-you and vic go on a date and it ends with fun at the hotel

·。🍓 hush, hush, cucciola. vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you’re were asked to come over and help to calm Vic down after another disagreement during creating new song, and you find just the way to make her happy and peaceful again

·。🍓 pillow talk vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-your night trip to the kitchen gets interrupted by a strange noise, the results of your investigation are more pleasant then you could expect.

·。🍓 long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

·。🍓 cold breeze, hot cheeks vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff 

-a rather cold October makes your blood boil as you and Vic attend Ethan's birthday party

·。🍓 i think I wanna hold you, but I'm not sure i'm allowed

vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst with tiny hint of smut

·。🍓 I'll show the  lovin' that you'll never get from a man. vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff, smut

-your friends finally meet your boyfriend, and even though nothing goes according to the plan, your night ends up being better than you could hope for, thanks to Vic

·。🍓 sweat and good grips vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 the one with victoria’s boobs. victoria x gn!reader | fluff

-Victoria needs help taping her boobs for an upcoming performance. You get more than you bargained for.

·。🍓 the one where victoria wants to watch victoria x fem!reader x ethan | smut

·。🍓 “OPEN YOUR MOUTH.” victoria x gn!reader | soft smut

-along the lines of The one where victoria is patient.

·。🍓 “YEAH, WELL, IF YOU WEREN’T SO DRUNK MAYBE I WOULD.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “I KNOW YOU CAN BE LOUDER THAN THAT.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “GIVE ME ATTENTION.” vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams vic de angelis xfem!reader | fluff, smut

-You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.

·。🍓 baby said vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you've been on a few dates with Victoria and you think things are going really well. You just wish you had known where the night was going beforehand- maybe you would have picked a table with longer tablecloths.

·。🍓 latenight devil vic de angelis x fem! reader

-victoria covers for you after you sneak backstage ahead of a Måneskin gig & invites you into her dressing room for an unusual encounter

·。🍓 forgive me father vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, basically porn

·。🍓 the ocean's daughter swearing, alcohol consumption, drowning as a metaphor, smut

-while on holiday in italy, an encounter derails your life enough to make you pack up on a whim and move to the very city in which you first saw her — the ocean's daughter.

·。🍓 vic blurb

-doing domestic stuff with Victoria

·。🍓 a threesome with victoria and damiano! damiano x fem!reader x vic | smut

-reader is victoria’s partner and starts to develop a certain ‘obsession’ for dami, until vic decides to fix it.

·。🍓 vic de angelis fic victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-y/n is the other female member of the band, who has had feelings for vic for a while now, but was too nervous to say anything. one night after a concert in new york changes that after the bassist overhears a conversation between damiano and y/n.

·。🍓 thorns victoria de angelis x fem!reader | Mentions of smoking. Mentions of panic. Swearing.

-victoria meets her ex-girlfriend (Ava). The unplanned “date” upsets her and she decides to drink and smoke to cope. When she wakes up in the morning her best friend Y/N (who she also happens to have a crush on) is there to try and reason with her. 

·。🍓 lucid victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-It started with a spilled drink and ended with a clumsy kiss on the dance floor. A night out with friends takes an unexpected turn when you bump into the one person that's been on your mind for the better part of a year- the same stranger who stole both your chapstick and your heart.

·。🍓 nightmares victoria de angelis x fem!reader | A description of a nightmare. Other than that all is fluff and comfort.

-When Y/N has a terrifying nightmare and wakes up screaming, Victoria is there to comfort her.

·。🍓 kisses and cake vic de angelis x reader | very fluffy, a little spicy

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-being in a punk band and having vic feature in a show (you know like thomas recently did with starcrawler) and her doing her scissoring thing on top of me and then when she extends and after extending a hand to help me up and pulling me into a very gay gay gay kiss smearing her lipstick on my lipstick and leaving a big lipstick stain on my cheek as well

·。🍓 birthday wish victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-little birthday blurb

·。🍓 church crush vic de angelis x reader | kinky as kink abba; innocent/corruption kink, and idk, sacrilege?

-good girl!reader having a massive obsession on a not-so-good girl from her church.

·。🍓 proficiency test victoria de angelis x gn!reader | a bit of swearing + one (1) explicit and one (1) implicit mention of sex + i'm very much projecting (who doesn't) + shitty german

-vic decides to help you study. chaos ensues.

·。🍓 coming home victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-vic has had a long day but coming home to you lifts the uneasiness from her shoulders and she vocalizes just how lucky she feels that you are in her life.

·。🍓 because of you idiot! victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angst(I guess), romantic fluff

-Victoria suddenly comes distance, and you try to find out why.

·。🍓 fluffy blurb vic de angelis x reader

-(it's something about getting matching tattoos with vic)

·。🍓 fuffly/smut with victoria victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-fluffy morning/half smut with victoria. nipples playing.

·。🍓 your camera roll while dating vic vic de angelis x reader | fluff, smut

·。🍓 knowing your worth vic x fem/gn! reader | hurt, comfort

-Vic is there for you after a conflict with your parents.

·。🍓 the first happiest birthday vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 crawling back to you vic de angelis x reader

-Vic once again finds her way back to you.

·。🍓 one of a kind vic de angelis x reader | fluff, mentions of sex

-Vic finds out just how rich the feeling of love can be.

·。🍓 “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend that it’s you!” vic de angelis x reader | fluff, angst

·。🍓 pt 2 hospital vic fic. vic de angelis x reader

·。🍓 “everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 the one where victoria is patient. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-you've been with Victoria for half a year. Maybe it's about time you pushed your fears away.

·。🍓 “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe I would.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Give me attention.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 “We’re in public, you know.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 "Take off your clothes, but leave the heels on." vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto: Part 1. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics, mention of someone called ‘A’ - Damiano’s girlfriend

-unbeknownst to you both, paparazzi photograph you and Victoria while on your way back from a date night. When you find out in the morning, the two of you have very different ideas of how to handle the situation.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto - Part 2. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics.

·。🍓 k is for kisses vic de angelis x reader

-You and your girlfriend, Victoria, both like to tease each other. Kisses ensue.

·。🍓 peculiar and beautiful victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angsty but also fluffy

-reader finds themself in a emotional rut. A few comments online, the constant youtube recommendations on how to be “perfect” have been making them feel some type of way, hiding away from the one person that can help them; Victoria

·。🍓 amalfi nights victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut, pretty vanilla, softdom!vic, servicetop!vic, praise, kind of fluffy smut

-reader and victoria are for vacation in Amalfi. After a candle-lit dinner at the restaurant, after a long day of swimming and sunbathing, victoria just wants to show you her love.

·。🍓 afterglow victoria de angelis x gn!reader | mentions of sex

-reader meets victoria while traveling with friends. The two create a lovely summer fling and reader can not help but bask in the afterglow of victorias influence hoping to encounter her again.

·。🍓 homesick vic de angelis x reader | tw sickness, vomitting

-vic and the reader being on a long vacation together. One night the reader wakes up homesick and ends up being sick in the toilet, trying to be as quiet as they can not to worry vic too much. To no use, of course, as vic wakes up alarmed by the sounds of someone being ill in the bathroom and then goes to comfort the sick, guilty, crying reader?

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

damiano david

✧*: i want to dance on your body damiano david x fem!reader | smut 

-you and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

✧*: i'm gonna fly straight to you damiano david x fem!reader | fluff

-you and Damiano are cuddled up in bed, brainstorming epic future adventures together.

✧*: i wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa. damiano david x fem!reader | smut

-damiano takes you to see his new yacht

✧*: long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

✧*: overthinking damiano david x fem!reader | swearing, alcohol, smoking, smut related things in general

-Your relationship with Damiano is going through a crisis and some jealousy. All becomes clear after a filed party and a steamy night. There is a bit sad, angsty beginning, smut in the middle and a bit of fluff in the end. So, we have the whole package.

✧*: welcome home damiano david x fem!reader | surprisingly fluffy but also smut

-after a long week all you need is a loving touch of your currently absent boyfriend. Luckily in the morning there is a very handsome surprise waiting for you, and this allows you to start your day in best way you could possibly imagine

✧*: 300,000 hearts damiano david x fem!girlfriend!reader

-where damiano sings a song about you he wrote in highschool, to a full arena

ethan torchio

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ blush ethan torchio x reader | pure fluff

-a blurb of Ethan meeting his new makeup artist who's really kind and bubbly and he instantly gets a crush on them?

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ a night in paris ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut+swearing

-you went on a tour with the band and Ethan enjoyed Paris the most. Having your boyfriend all happy and excited turned out to be better then you expected.

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ "The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind." ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut

-If acting unwise get's you places, maybe you're just pushing it to be on your knees.

thomas raggi

❤︎ ❥ "We passed 'just friends' about 20 fucks ago." thomas raggi x reader | angst, fluff, smut

❤︎ ❥ sanremo. thomas raggi x gn!reader | swearing, slightly sugggestive

-ever the supportive boyfriend, thomas indulges you in a sanremo 2023 watch party.

[writersblockiskillingme]

Can you please do a Damiano fell in love with his long time friend/band mate (reader) who is the backup singer (bc their voices complement each others perfectly) and writes a song about her and sings it to her on stage, confessing his love. (the other band mates know abt it).

I’m in my delusional era

Only Angel | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x fem!reader (Måneskin bandmate)

Summary: You were in love with him for a very long time, but you didn't know that he loved you back. Until he decided to do something about it.

Warning/s: pet name (angel), just a little bit of good all angst, smut +18, degradation, teasing, prising, dom/sub, few curse words, mentions of alcohol and weed, cigarettes, mentions of one night stands, grammar and spelling mistakes, Google translated Italian (sorry, please tell me in the comments if I made any mistakes so I can fix them)

Author's note: This one's been a long time coming, but enjoy!

I saw this angel

I really saw an angel

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see

That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me

I'm just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth

And there's nothing I can do about it

Damiano could still remember the first time he met her.

She was the first singer that Måneskin (Back then just Victoria and Thomas) recruited for the band. He could remember it as if it was yesterday.

His hands were sweating as hell as he walked through the hallway of a "made up", improved studio that belongs to the future, back-then-still-in-making, rock band Måneskin. He remembered how nervous he was, but that nervousness compared to the one he experienced as he walked into the studio was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a big deal at all.

As he reached his stop, he looked up and saw a guy with blonde hair messing with his guitar, and he saw a blonde haired girl standing next to him, watching him. They didn't notice him just yet.

Damiano turned his head away from them and decided to focus his gaze on a girl sitting in a chair with a pen and journal in her hands, ashtray sitting on the armrest of the chair. She was lightly gripping the pen as she wrote and crossed and scrambled the words on a piece of paper in the journal. Her (h/l) (h/c) covered her eyes slightly. He could clearly see her red lips moving, even tho she had a half finished cigarette in her mouth. She was probably mumbling the word of the, what was probably, a song she was writing.

She was mumbling so quietly, but somehow he could still hear her voice. It was beautiful, he felt like he was falling into a trans. He felt himself freezing like a deer in headlights when he saw her look up at him.

Her face steached into a smile, cigarette no longer lingering on her lips as she reached out and placed it on an ashtray. Her (e/c) shining like the sun, her hair no longer covering them from him. She stood up and started to walk up to him. That's the moment when Vic and Thomas noticed him, too.

He noticed the grace she was carrying herself with. It was as if she was floating. It was a sight to behold for sure.

"Ciao! Tu devi essere Damiano David." [Hi! You must be Damiano David.] She said and he felt like his breath was knocked out of his lungs when he heard her angelic voice speak to him.

"SÌ. Quello... sono io." [Yes. That's me.] He stuttered for a bit and that shocked him to his core. He never stuttered before, it felt weird. He didn't like that.

"Sorprendente. Io sono (Y/N) e loro sono Thomas e Victoria." [Amazing. I'm (Y/N) and this is Thomas and Victoria.] She introduced herself, Thomas and Vic.

And so, after a few quick hellos were exchanged, they pulled him in front of the mic and they preformed one song with him and one where he had to sing alone. It turned out that (Y/N) and he sing together perfectly. Their voices simply sound so good together. However, since that day something followed Damiano. Something that he couldn't quite place for a little bit.

Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door

I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short

But I think that's what I like about it

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

Over the years Damiano and (Y/N) started to get closer and closer to each other.

At first it was innocent, truly. The two of them would talk with each other more than they would with Vic, Thomas or Ethan. Everyone soon noticed how close they were. They started to become very good friends. They had a lot of thing in common. They liked the same music, the same artists, everything! They somehow never ran out of topics to have a conversation about. It was amazing, really.

They would go out to get coffee, pizza, they went to bars and local parties together. They would come to each other's houses and just watch TV and get drunk or, sometimes even, high. They would drink some shitty wine that they would find in some shitty liquor store and would fall asleep on top of each other on the couch.

They would write and sing songs with each other. They liked each other's voices, but most of all, they liked how they sounded together. A match made in heaven, indeed.

However, over the years something changed. As they grew, the band did, too and so did their feelings for one another. Damiano watched everything she did whenever she was in his presence. He practically adored the ground she was walking on. It was amazing to experience. And to watch, too.

Vic was the first one to notice, of course. She would easily notice the longing glances that they would send each other while they thought that nobody was looking. She tried to talk to them about it. They would just brush it off.

"She is just my best friend, come on, Vic!"

"He's just a friend to me. Nothing more!"

Of course, Vic wasn't stupid, and neither were Thomas and Ethan. They soon figured what was up, too. The three musicians really tried everything in their power to get them to know what the other was feeling, but it felt like it was impossible to do that.

The problem was that Damiano and (Y/N) thought that the other didn't like them like that. And so from one problem, another one was born.

One night stands.

They both thought that if they see other people they could push their feelings away. However, when did that work out?

Damiano could still remember it. He walked down the hallway of the hotel that they were staying in because of their performance in New York. He watched her and some random guy practically eat each other's faces as she started to push him into her hotel room.

The last thing that he saw were the stains of red lipstick before he started doing it two.

I must admit I thought I'd like to make you mine

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

And there's nothing we can do about it

Damiano had officially had enough. Watching her bringing guy after guy in her hotel room, him bringing girl after girl. It was too much. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't just stand aside as he watched and heard everything those guys did when it should be him doing it to his angel.

So one night he gathered his courage and knocked on her door so hard he almost got splinters in his knuckles from the wooden door. The moment she opened the door he spilled his feelings to her and so this is how they ended up there.

Damiano was quick to notice a bruise in the corner of her neck. Her pathetic attempt to cover it with her hair was not doing it. He felt anger fill his body to the brim. He knew that he had no reason to be angry, she wasn't his. Perhaps that was what angered him.

"You seem angry." (Y/N) was quick to point it out, her face forming a concerned look. "Why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad." Damiano spat out, proving her point. "I just think that you can choose better people to share spit with, angel. That's all."

"Excuse me?!" (Y/N) couldn't help but to yell in his face in the middle of the hallway. "What the hell is wrong with you, Damiano?"

"Was it worth it?" He asked her, his voice dangerously low. It send shivers down her spine.

"Is you hating me right now your new personality trait?"

She knew that that wasn't justified. She knew how bold of her that was. She knew that he didn't actually hate her, at least she hoped that he didn't. The truth was that she grew nervous under his gaze. His gaze, his tone, sudden realization of what he was talking about... it made her nervous as hell. She didn't know what to do.

"Was it worth it?" He kept his voice low and she knew that she couldn't avoid the topic any longer as much as she wanted to.

"I don't know what to say, Damiano."

"Oh, don't bullshit me, (Y/N)!" Damiano's voice rang in the hallway of the huge hotel in the middle of New York. He didn't give a flying fuck that it was night. That her "neighbors" were probably asleep. He didn't care about anything but his angel.

"Watcing you with so many guys who can't give you what I can... it draw me crazy." He finally confessed as he watched her in science of the hallway, frozen, confused. "You still don't get it, do you? It's because I love you."

"Now I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel the same way." Damiano told her as he pinned her against the door of her bedroom. Her breath getting stuck in her throat as she listened to his rough voice speak. "Just then I will leave you alone."

"I can't." She whispered, feeling so small compared to him right now.

"And why is that, angel."

"Because... I'm not even gonna lie, I'm just so fucking obsessed with you, you have no idea."

That's all he needed.

Told it to her brother and she told it to me

That she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see

When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

And there's nothing she can do about it

Hey, hey

His lips felt so familiar yet so unknown to her. His breathing had become more strained.

"Damn it all to hell, if I don't get to have you tonight then I'm never going to be able to have you."

"Who says it has to be that way." (Y/N) said as she gasped in pleasure as he started to suck the skin on her neck.

His muscles tensed with every thrust. She finally allowed herself to sink into the mattress, into her pillow. She finally allowed herself to have him and for him to have her. She felt his hands flattering against her spine as he drew her closer to him as if that was physically possible.

"Arch your back for me, angel."

She felt herself gasping in pleasure as she did what he asked her to do. It was hard for him to contain his own sounds, too, as he pumped his thick throbbing cock into her at a constant pace.

"Please..." she was getting overwhelmed with him continuously hitting the right spot deep inside of her.

He grabbed her ankles and lifted her ankles to place them around his waist. She was practically screaming as he continued to split her wet pussy at rapid speed. She continued to shudder as he sped up his pace.

"Bet you they don't make you sound like that, do they, angel?"

"Ah- I-"

"Do they!?"

"NOO!" She barely gasped. "They don't... only you can do- ahh- this to mee!"

She openly moaned, screaming as Damiano's cock started swelling and stretching her tight pussy even more then before. And as her orgasm hit, she began to cry. He didn't care, he continued to thrust repeatedly, no signs of stopping or at least slowing down.

"I want you to remember everything fucking seconds of this."

She was overstimulated, but the tears of pleasure continued to flow.

He suddenly pulled out, erotic sound of cum mixed together filled the deafening silence in her room. He's fiery kisses started to trail down to her soaked pussy. Soon he started to suck her clit, but he moved away when he felt your hands on his head. He removed his tongue as he repositioned himself near your ass.

"Mhh!" (Y/N) tried to gain her voice back so she could speak again. "Don't! Too much!"

"Shhh... my beautiful angel." He cooed to her. "I'm sure that you've got one more in you. Will you be a good little angel and take what I have to give you?" His words were mocking and teasing at the same time as she nodded her head as much as she could before she pushed herself further into her pillow.

"Good girl."

He slowly began to enter her again, he was lubricated by her dripping juices. The thrusts began to increase again as she screamed his name, shaking. However, soon she found herself moving to meet his rough, pleasurable thrusts, which synchronized.

She was drowning in pleasure, she couldn't comprehend what was happening anymore. However she knew one thing, every time that fat cock hit her cervix, she got closer and closer to her much needed release.

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

The stadium was big. The light were truly blinging (Y/N). The adrenaline was pumping through your veins. She was so happy, so full of euphoria even tho her throat felt so sore from all the singing and her muscles were hurting her.

On the other hand Damiano felt like he was going to faint. Yes, he was euphoric and happy, too. He was so happy and excited for the even bigger future of Måneskin, but he felt nervous.

For years he was in love with this girl. He always gave his best to express it as best as he possibly could. But nothing felt good enough. His angel deserved the world, even more so. He loved her so much the fraze "to the moon and back" simply couldn't cut it.

So he decided to express his love for her in a way that he did best. He wrote her a song. And so with a deep breath, and Victoria's pep talk before he went on the stage, he stepped forward.

"How are we feeling tonight, LA!?" Damiano shouted and his shout was followed by screaming and clapping of the fans.

"So tonight you are going to hear a song you have never heard before!! You excited!!??"

Damiano had to cover his ears a little because the screaming of the fans became a little bit too much. Still he found himself laughing with excitement. Like he always did. He looked a little to the side where (Y/N) was standing so he could take a little peak at her face. Confused was not a good enough word to explain the look on her face when she heard what Damiano had said and Vic, Thomas nor Ethan didn't say anything. He wrote a song? Without me? (Y/N) though to herself.

"This song I will sing alone." Damiano said and (Y/N) got even more confused.

"You see, I met this girl a long time ago and I felt like I loved her the moment I saw her. I wanted to express my love to her and to the entire world so I wrote this song for her." Damiano continued.

The crowd was already loosing their minds as Damiano stepped took the microphone form it's stand, but when Damiano said the next words and started singing all hell broke loose.

"This song is for you, (Y/N). My only angel."

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

My-my-my only angel

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TAGLIST

@opal-rugger

[noahmaxim]

Lazy day - Ethan Torchio

I accept requests!

Warnings: beware this can be cute.

English is not my first language, so it may contain grammatical errors. I'm Brazilian.

________________________

It was a sunny afternoon in Rome, and even though it was summer there was a soft, cool breeze, the perfect day to laze around the house. You were sitting on a wooden stool finishing a painting that you had started a few days ago. A customer had ordered a painting of a full moon night, and you had to deliver it within a week.

A rather sleepy Ethan appeared in the room, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself fully. Her sleep-dazed eyes studied what little of the room they could still see while her mind processed what was happening around her. Without taking your focus off the drawing you say:

"Did you sleep well mi amoré?" Her sweet, warm tone doesn't seem to have woken her boyfriend up completely, he disappears into the kitchen for a few moments.

A smile instantly appears on his lips, Ethan was very cute when he woke up, his messy hair framed his beautiful face and that sleepwalking way of his makes him even cuter. He was like an adorable kitten.

Ethan has reappeared in the room with a glass cup full of coffee in his hands, he walks towards you tilting his head slightly to look at the painting.

"What do you think?" You turn slightly to the side so you could look at your boyfriend.

"Even if it's not finished, but it's really good" He leaves a kiss on the top of her head.

"Then I'll get back to work." You turn back to the canvas and go back to painting.

Thirty minutes or so passed, but you remained focused on your work. Good at least until she felt soft kisses on her neck.

"Amoré, I'm working." You smile, depositing your brush on the small table that was next to the canvas.

"I know, but you've been there so long. We hardly have time to spend together, so how about we take the day to spend together?" He continues to attack her neck with soft kisses.

"Fine, let's have a lazy day!" You get up, putting your arms around the brunette's neck, you place a kiss on Ethan's lips. He asks for passage with his tongue, the kiss was calm and sweet.

"Let's go to bed." He picks you up bridal style making you squeal in surprise.

Those moments were her favorites, the moments when you could just enjoy Ethan's company.

[bulletproofbandits]

LIVE TONITE ❗

flyer i made for the Bulletproof Bandits band au i’ve been talking a lot about with @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands <3

[capuletoo]

Blue Valentine — Thomas Raggi

—note: it’s been so since i wrote something for måneskin…please please request something because i wanna write for them but have no ideas

—TW: stealing hehe, fluff | thomas raggi x fem!reader

—summary: After a party the reader meets a boy with a motorcycle

—words: 1.3k

THE WORDS IN ITALICS ARE LYRICS OF THE SONG ‘BETWEEN THE BARS’ BY ELLIOTT SMITH

You end up leaving with regret. You don't want to go back to the party. In addition, the effects of alcohol are beginning to dissipate: You tremble with cold and your head throws you atrociously. Arms crossed in a vain attempt to comfort and venture randomly into the street. There are not even cats, it seems that you are alone. Footsteps resonate in silence.

“Drink up baby,

stay up all night with the things you could do,

you won't but you might…”

You take the opportunity to sing, just to warm up.

“The potential you be that you never see,

the promises you'll only make. Drink up one more time,

and forget all about the pressure of days.

Do what I say and I'll make you okay,

I'll drive away the images stuck in your head…”

The coolness of the street and the dull noise of cars in the distance take a weight off your shoulders. You feel strangely lighter. Maybe because you are far away from the party, or perhaps because you're disappointed.

“People you've been before that you don't want around anymore…” A second voice is added to yours. “They push each other and won't bend to your will, I'll keep them still.”

The voice is clear and suave. You immediately turn around to see a slender silhouette wedged against a black motorcycle a few metres away. Same black shirt that reads joy division same face. He's the boy with the red chipped guitar

“You have a pretty voice” he compliments. “Why didn't you go on stage earlier?”

“I don't sing in public.” You bite your lower lip, unsure of his intentions. After all, you don't know him.

“It's a shame.” He detaches himself from the machine and advances nonchalantly a few steps, hands in his pockets.

“I didn't hear you with the noise there was,” you said.

“I know, it was hell, we couldn't play.” You remembered how his bandmates were angry at everyone, voices louder than the strings of the guitar, the bass.

“Are there many of you?” You say, trying to convince him that you didn't really pay attention to the small improvised stage, but you remembered every face that was up there with him.

“Yeah, I have bandmates”

“Oh, so you're a real artist?” He smiles and seems to understand a joke that escapes.

“Not you?” It's your turn to smile.

“ It´s not my field.”

“I would say that…” He tilts his head and pretends to think. “Are you writing?”

You nod your head and then sniff. The freshness is starting to feel serious, if you don't go home soon, you'll get cold. “What betrayed me?”

“I don't know, I guessed it as soon as I saw you.” He says and glances back at his motorcycle. “How do you get home?” He asks without giving up his half-smile, a child's smile.

A sigh leaves your lips. “I'm supposed to spend the night with a friend, my father is coming to pick me up in the morning” a tone so bleak that he raises his eyebrows.

“Did you leave the party early?”

“I was fed up.” You rub the floor with the tip of your boot. “It's only one o'clock in the morning.”

Your gazes meet, and you can already tell the next question he's about to ask, and you already know the answer you would give him.

“Do you want to go for a ride?

[...]

The wind caressed your cheek and dragged the scent of his jacket. A fragrance, both intriguing and luxurious, you could recognize the notes of wood.

As you held him by the waist, the engine roared to life, and the motorcycle surged forward , carrying you both into the night. The cool breeze whipped against your face, ruffling your hair and awakening your senses. The city lights straked past, creating a blur of colors.

On his back you could feel the vibrations of the mototcycle beneath you, the ehythmic rumble resonating through your body. It was a thrilling sensation. Yet, being with him, it felt oddly liberating.

Your breath feels upside down, it makes you forget that you have no idea where he is taking you, forget that you don't know the time he will bring you back. Everything is fine, for the moment. You want to laugh, dance and sing. The feeling of speed reminds you of cycling without hands when you were younger.

When we descend, the stars are reflected on the river that runs along Verona. Thomas - that's his name - takes a bottle of white wine out of the trunk of his motorcycle. So you walk in the cool night, bottle in hand. He doesn't think about the small size for a wine or the fact that you don't drink. He doesn't tease you, he's not heavy like all the others are. He drinks quietly, from time to time, observes and listens and you imitate him.

Most of the noise comes from the nearby cafes and bars.

He proposes that we rent a boat to cross the river. I accept but warn him that you don't know how to swim. He makes no remarks, he is not surprised. And even if you knew how to, you doubt that there will be people renting at this hour.

“I will save you if you fall, " he just answers by catching the oars on each side of the gondola. There’s no one there. You can’t help the feeling of stealing.

So you sail on the shore. The noise of the city fades and the crickets are singing. Fireflies appear. They form dozens of small lights that are all reflected in Thomas' eyes. His eyes whose intensity is close to the abyss. You don't see the end. It's beautiful, it's undeniable.

He is calm too, and his half smile is similar to that of a child. You have never seen anyone like this boy before. His smell embalmed the air again and you want to fill your lungs with it. He is still stoned, which dilates his pupils in an exaggerated way. He begins to hum a melody and the sound of his voice transports you elsewhere.

“Are you writing song right now?” He asks suddenly.

“It happens sometimes” You said, keeping your eyes closed.

“Give me a title you wrote.” His voice is getting closer.

“Blue Valentine.”

“I love it” His breath is mentholated and your eyelids remain closed. “What is it about?”

Now you feel him distinctly, his smell. It surrounds you like a halo, you bathe right in it: you are in Paradise. And the sound of his voice, it is almost made up of material, you can almost feel it.

“From a slightly chaotic girl. Of a love that is not enough.” You refuse to open your eyes, you don't know why, you have the impression that they are welded. His face on yours. A warm breath hugs your cheeks. You feel it very close, very close.

“And what is the last verse?” He moves his lips while talking, and touches yours.

“The bread will be my redemption.” His lips gently and voluptuously crush on yours. You can feel a smile and wonder if it's about the kiss or if he's making fun of the last verse.

An electric current runs through and gently ignites. His lips are delicately sweet. The contact does not last more than a second but it is enough to turn your head. Colors dance under your eyelids, his mouth is like two petals. He marries mine perfectly. So perfect that it's almost unreal.

Your eyes are open: he is only a few centimeters from you and his look is so intense that you feel something melting. His face is too perfect, he's too close, you are going to erupt. His blonde locks, his smell is too stunning, even his Adam's apple seems to make you look.

Without a word, Thomas leans in once again, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away as you lose yourself in the electric embrace. It feels like a spark igniting a fire within you, a rush of emotions surging through your veins.

As the kiss lingers, you feel a warmth spreading throughout your body. It's not just the physical contact but also the emotional connection that seems to be growing stronger with each passing second. In this moment, you forget about the regrets and disappointments of the party.

When you finally break apart, a sense of exhilaration and wonder lingers in the air. You both catch your breath, your eyes locked in a gaze that speaks volumes. The electric energy continues to crackle between you, fueling an unspoken desire for more.

Who is this boy and what is he doing? You look at each other like this for several seconds that seem endless. And finally you put a word about the sensation that passes through you: electric.

[fruitpunchnoice]

[wh0r3-for-older-men]

I really wanna write some more fanfiction but I’m currently in the process of transitioning between obsessions but it currently seems like I'm stuck between the two of them? And the problem is I don't have the motivation to write for the first one but don't know enough yet to write for the second one. It's so frustrating. So I mean I'll force myself to write for the first one but only if people request. (Maneskin btw please request)

What I might do is write some short ones or some preferences and post those to get more people to request. Honestly though, it's so hot right now (32-34 degrees celsius) and my brain is mushed because I'm not accustomed to this heat. I’m going home in four days though but unfortunately I won’t have time to write because I’m going out with friends and also I’m gonna be studying (for exams) because I currently have three Es (i think it’s that) and really want to actually go to college.

As well as the fact that I managed to go this whole time just tanning and then somehow sunburnt so goddamn bad I look like a tomato. I’m going to try and write through the year but my entire schedule is prolly gonna be school —> home —> studying then on weekends a mix between studying and going out and to gigs and stuff.

Anyways i've been working on my italian (yes ik i should already be able to speak it but my nonni gave up ok) and I can still barely speak it. My comprehension is defo better though.

Anyways, buongiorno/ goodbyeee (not a direct translation btw)

also im begging u guys to please request so i can give you content

[tempobrucera]

Peaches, Figs & Cherry Stems

Pairing: Thomas x Reader Wordcount: 7.7k Summary: You become fascinated with Thomas eating fruit, and Thomas catches on, getting progressively flirtier with you while everyone around you is oblivious to your little game. Warnings: Food, Smut

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

.#####.

It’s summer time in Italy and if you learned one thing it’s that summers in Italy are always hot. And this one is especially hot, even hotter than the last. Even with smothering yourself in sun cream your body feels like boiling and your cheeks are heating up for a different reason completely. 

Thomas climbed out of the pool moments ago. Water dripping down his body, his chest, his long legs. There are water droplets falling out of his hair and he decides to be an asshole and shakes his head while standing over you, water raining down on you. You don’t complain, it feels like a welcomed refreshment. 

However your cheeks heat up and you can feel yourself getting red-faced when one drop of water on his chest catches your eyes. Your gaze follows it travelling down his chest and then his tummy, right down to the waistband of his swimming trunks. Before your eyes travel down further you catch yourself and let your gaze glide up to his face again. 

He is biting in a slice of watermelon he must have taken when your eyes were occupied with something else. The watermelon juice running down his fingers makes you blush even more. You’re happy that your eyes are hidden behind the dark shades of your sunglasses and you let your sun hat glide into your face with one little movement. It’s better than to stare at him. 

You can still hear it in his voice, the smirk that you imagine is plastered all over his face, when he asks: “Want a slice?”

.#####.

You spent the day at the pool again, the sun is burning on your skin, it’s too hot for your liking. Watching Thomas from afar doesn’t help. He’s eating raspberries out of a small bowl that’s sitting on his stomach. Water droplets all over his body again. His lips and his tongue are a slight red-pink from the fruit he just swallowed when he bites his bottom lip. And you ask yourself why you agreed to go on a vacation trip with them. For two weeks, it’s only day two and you’re already feeling like losing your mind. Every time you see Thomas you are sure that he’s going to do something that has your insides turn, your mind cloud with desire and having you want. Or having you want to die on the spot - maybe you’re close to a sunstroke.

“Thomas,” you hear Ethan call from somewhere in the shade, “You’re supposed to share. And please get some sunscreen on your skin asap.”

Thomas grumbles something that sounds like I’m an adult, asshole but he still gets up. 

“I am just making sure you aren’t getting skin cancer.”

“Of course, mum!”

On the way inside Thomas drops the bowl of raspberries on your body, almost between your boobs. And then he disappears inside, Vic is snoozing on the sunlounger next to you, a sunburn starting to bloom just over her bikini bottoms.  

You’re completely lost in your own thoughts, and you only realise that Thomas is back when he’s towering over you blocking the sun and he grabs your wrist. You want to protest and ask what he’s doing when he already puts his lips around your index finger - and gets the raspberry of the fingertip. Lost in your thoughts you put some of the berries on your fingers earlier. Thomas lets your finger go and goes for the next one. If your earlier thought was that he’ll drive you insane, it now changed to you’ll black out.

“Mmhhhh,” he hums around your finger. His eyes cross your gaze when he pulls off. He takes a raspberry out of the bowl and holds it to your lips, without your agreement your lips open for him and the berry, then he pulls back completely. Ethan is squeezing his eyes at you from afar, you’re sure he only sees blurry, and Vic lets out a snore.

“Did you put suncream on?” Ethan asks.

“Yeeeeaaassss.”

You can see some white cream trapped in his happy trail and your mind reels and goes places where it shouldn’t go. Get your head out of the gutter, you scold yourself and you wonder if he knows. The smell is intoxicating, and it comes in waves when he leans over you to get the bowl of raspberries back - it’s still placed on your body, between your boobs. You think about his rough calloused fingertips against your skin and have to bite your lips. 

He leaves behind a cloud of suncream, raspberry, the chlorine smell of pool water drying on his skin, his body wash, cigarette smoke, faint sweat and sandalwood. You want to drown in it. There’s only his smell and confusion left when he’s back at the other side of the pool and he takes his glass.

“Cheers.”

.#####.

Making dinner later is a challenge. Damiano is trying to cook, you are making a salad, Vic and Thomas are causing havoc every time you turn your back on them while Ethan sits at the table nipping at his glass of wine, slapping Thomas’ ass when he’s on the way running into Damiano at full speed. He turns around to Ethan and squeals. Damiano drills the cooking spoon between his shoulder blades, tomato sauce all over his white tank top. 

“What the fu…,” Thomas turns back.

“Be helpful for once in your life,” Damiano tells him, “instead of being stupid.”

He lets out a tirade of Italian curse words but comes closer to where you are fighting with the pomegranate. You already took off the top of the fruit in your hands and sliced the skin. Thomas takes it out of your hands without asking. Pries it open with his own bare hands, his long fingers holding and simultaneously ripping it apart - but all the same he’s gentle. So gentle that it has you wondering. His fingers popping the blood red kernels out of the pulp right into the salad bowl. The faint red liquid running down his fingers, he isn’t even saying one word. But he looks at you when he’s done, when he grabs for the tea towel that you threw over your shoulder earlier. He still looks at you when he washes his hands, the red off the silver of his ring, and dries his hands.

“Thank you.” 

You don’t know why you feel like you want to cry. And for a split second you think he knows because he raises his hand to your face, your hair, before he lets it sink again without doing anything.

“There’s tomato sauce on my back,” he still looks at you, “Isn’t there?”

There’s a piece of pomegranate falling out of your hair when Thomas has left the kitchen to find Victoria again.

.#####.

Waking up from a loud splash wasn’t what you expected to rip you out of your more than pleasant dream. Sleepily you walk to the window to see who is responsible for your suffering. You’re surprised to see Thomas in the pool, smiling and waving his hand to greet you just when Vic joins him and dunks him under water.

After you get somewhat presentable, or at least what you can chalk up under presentable, you leave your room. On the way down you run into Ethan, who isn’t saying much, and looks as tired as you feel but he sits down with you when you get breakfast for yourself and offer him a coffee. Strategically you place yourself in a chair which allows you to look out of the big french windows. Best look at the pool. And Vic and Thomas - and the bowl of blueberries.

You can observe how Vic throws the blueberries for him and you smile when you see that he tries to catch them with his mouth. You can see him fail again and again. Berry after berry.

Ethan is too immersed with his phone to notice, and if he does he’s too polite to mention or call you out on it. Even when you get up, clear the table, set a new cup of coffee in front of him and leave, he only mumbles a short Thank you. Thomas is still failing to catch any of Victoria’s blueberries.

Just when you come through the door he finally catches one. He makes a slight courtesy in front of you and you do him the favour to clap. You don’t tell him that you watched how he missed all the other ones.

.#####.

Later in the morning Ethan and you both have your noses hidden behind books. Ethan a book with a title you already don’t understand and yours is behind a book you bought in a museum shop. 

You can hear the crinkly package of an ice cream sandwich being opened next to you but before Ethan can dig his teeth into it, Thomas' head appears behind Ethan’s book. He sniffs not unlike a bunny and you laugh when you realise that he’s sniffing out food and his next target is Ethan’s ice cream sandwich that he takes out of Ethan’s hand with one swift motion.

He licks around the edges, some strawberry ice cream on his lips that he licks away while looking at you, and only then he bites into it. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head and hands it back to Ethan who looks at him like he can’t believe what just happened.

“Why do you think I want something you just licked?”

.#####.

“Someone has to do the shopping,” Damiano says, trying to not look at anyone specific but he still looks at Ethan, “I already made a grocery list.”

“I’ll just pay someone to do that for us,” even with the sunglasses hiding most of her face you can still see her roll her eyes behind the shades.

“You don’t have to,” you say, also thinking about the small market you saw on your way, “I’m happy to do it. Good to get outside this house for a bit.”

“I’ll join,” Thomas chirps in. Four pairs of eyes are looking at him, all of them in different states of disbelief. “What? What she said, good to get out of the house.”

Vic raises one of her eyebrows.

“And as I will eat most of it, I might as well choose.”

“Great, having the house quiet for most of the day is a dream,” Damiano says, “Please leave as soon as you can.”

You do leave half an hour later, you in the passenger seat and Thomas driving. Smoking and the wind blowing through the open windows and his hair. 

Getting the groceries is easy, Thomas and you working through Damiano’s list from top to bottom. He picks out fruits really carefully, rotating them through his fingers, looking for spots and only taking the ones which he deems worthy enough to go into your small basket. He picks out some lychees he peels and eats straight away. Your eyes are trained on his hands, the fruit, and then his lips. He smiles at you when he offers you one. 

When you pick out vegetables Thomas looks suggestively at a cucumber, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You just roll your eyes and he giggles, but as soon as he has his back to you again you smile. 

“We should have some gelato,” Thomas says when all your errands are dealt with, “That ice cream sandwich was terrible.”

“What are you,” you laugh, “some kind of ice cream connoisseur?”

“Actually … Yes, let’s do some ice cream testing. I saw a shop in one of those alleys over you.”

The girl behind the counter looks intimidated when she sees Thomas step through the door, she almost drops the cone she’s just handing over to a happy customer. And her eyes go even bigger when he says: “Could I … just get a bit of everything, please?”

For some reason, and you believe the reason to be someone being starstruck, he gets what he asked for without any questions being asked or to deny him the request.

He takes two cups from her and two little wooden spoons. 

First he steals some pistachio gelato from the cup he handed you before sitting down in front of the little shop. Then he tries the peach that is in his own cup, and he closes his eyes in delight. When he notices your eyes lingering on him he gets another spoonful and feeds it to you from his spoon.

“Mmhhh.”

“Perfect.” 

.######.

It’s almost evening when the two of you are back from your little shopping trip. Damiano is already waiting, rummaging through your bags to find ingredients he needs to cook dinner. 

Thomas takes a mango and a knife and disappears outside to sit in the glowing evening sun. You follow him outside, Vic and Ethan are at the table as well. Ethan smoking, Vic painting his nails. But you only have eyes for Thomas and how he cuts the mango into small pieces. How he picks up a piece with his fingers to pop it between his lips and how he licks the sweetness from the corner of his mouth. 

It’s almost like he’s treasuring the taste, but at the same time he’s devouring it. There’s only one thought in your head: You want to know how everything tastes from his lips.

.#####.

When Damiano calls out that dinner is ready, Thomas is the one who jumps up and makes it inside the fastest.

“You could think we would starve him,” Ethan shakes his head.

But when you see the pasta Damiano cooked, you kind of get Thomas’ urgency to find a place at the table. The food smelling and looking delicious, making your stomach rumble. A gentle reminder that Thomas and you skipped lunch in favour of a gelato sampling.

“Thomas,” Ethan exclaims when he slurps the spaghetti into his mouth.

“What?” He says, “Compliments to the chef?”

Damiano rolls his eyes but takes the compliment with kiss hand, to Ethan’s dismay. You have to admit that it isn’t really sexy or appealing at all but it has Vic and you giggling while Ethan once again shakes his head.

.#####.

The next day feels slow and lazy. The most you do is getting in and out of the pool and reapplying sunscreen every now and then, all under Thomas’ watchful eyes. 

For lunch everyone’s creating their own pizza with the dough Damiano prepared the night before, so everyone can choose who’s pizza they want to try later. Thomas looks at your creation with interest and then looks back to his own.

“They are the same,” he tells you and when you have a closer look at his, you see that he’s right. 

“Oh.”

It’s a strange moment of connection that fades as quickly as it came but has you discussing the Top 10 pizza toppings while eating and Thomas jokingly proposing the idea of a pizza eating contest. You all know he would win. 

.#####.

The sound of laughter and splashing fills the air as Thomas and you engage in a playful game of catch in the pool. Thomas has a height advantage but you’re moving quicker when he doesn’t know how to coordinate his limbs. You both sit at the edge out of breath when Vic offers you a fig. 

As you bite into the fig, the sweet juice drips down your chin without you noticing, you barely notice Thomas who seems to be entranced by you.

“You know,” he says, leaning in closer so Victoria can’t hear him, “I’ve always heard that eating a fig is one of the most sensual experiences you can have."

“Is that so?” you ask, taking another bite, “Any other ideas to explore your senses?”

You decided there was no harm in flirting back, and Thomas’ laugh and sly smile reassures you with your decision. You laugh as well and you can feel the air around you charged with playful flirtation. 

“I might have some ideas.”

.#####.

Ethan decided to declare tonight movie night earlier in the day, writing it on a chalkboard, which Damiano primarily used to write down a menu for every day, in bold big red letters. Everyone followed the invitation you can see when you’re the last one to arrive. Luckily Thomas pads a free space next to him on the sofa that he saved for you.

As soon as you sit down, he puts a glass of white wine in your hand and a bowl of popcorn between your legs before he sneaks one arm around your back. 

Approximately it takes you fifteen minutes to forget what film Ethan picked to watch. The bowl of popcorn is between your legs. A place where Thomas’ other hand now travels to grab for the popcorn. You squirm and blush.

“I told you I have some ideas,” he says a little bit too loud and you expect to be called out but there’s just a Ssshhh from Damiano and Ethan gratefully smiling at him, nothing more. 

.######.

“I’ll cook today,” you tell Damiano over a cup of coffee during the early hours of the morning, “If you don’t mind.”

“You kidding?” He gives you a smile, the kitchen is quiet otherwise, everyone else still laying in bed, “I could do with a day just chilling and smoking pot.”

.#####.

For lunch you prepare a picnic, salad, fruits, cheese, sandwiches, and some freshly made raspberry lemonade. Thomas joins you in the kitchen from time to time. Sometimes to touch your back, to let his hands linger on your waist when he hugs you from behind but mostly to steal food from plates and bowls and baskets.

Only when you prepare the last item for your little picnic, a lemon tart, he stays in the kitchen without any signs of leaving. And you decide to leave him be and shift your attention back to your dough. 

One unfortunate moment Thomas leans his long neck over your shoulder, just when you’re adding flour to a bowl. It startles you so much that you jump, flour packet in hand, and some of the flour landing on your dress and some of it directly on Thomas’ cheek.

“Sorry,” you wipe it off his face apologetically. He smiles an honest smile at you, and the moment turns from embarrassing to cute with that. 

You offer him a slice of lemon and he takes it happily, almost as with the glee of a child. He bites into it and you can imagine how the juice explodes in his mouth, the tangy, sour but somehow still sweet flavour capturing his senses all at once. Thomas closes his eyes while savouring the flavour and then he seems to become aware that you’re watching him, your eyes intense and focused solely on him. 

Your eyes meet, the moment passes, but there’s a spark of attraction and desire you can’t quite place but you also can’t ignore. A shared moment of pleasure on a hot summer day. 

“Could you squeeze them for me?” You roll the lemons to him and point at the lemon squeezer press on the counter. When he gets the knife to cut them in half, you think this was a bad idea but he makes it without cutting off his fingers. 

He’s just about to say something, one half of lemon still in hand, and then a sudden burst of lemon juice hits your eye. 

“FUCK!” It burns and stings but it calms down at least slightly when you press a wet towel on it. And your initial shock quickly turns into banter. “Thomas, why did you do that?”

“Oh,” he looks at you playfully, “Now it’s my fault that you’re staring at me?”

Just when you want to answer, Ethan barges into the kitchen: “Can I help?”

“Yes,” you say - towel still on your eye, “You could span the parasol, get some blankets, take the plates and cutlery outside.”

“Oh,” he looks at your eye, “I heard screaming, everything okay?”

“Yes, just squirted into her eye,” Thomas admits sheepishly. 

“Squi- … Sorry, you did what now?” 

“The lemon,” you point at the culprit - Thomas who still has the lemon in his hand, “He squirted it into my eye. Actually take the menace out of my kitchen as well.”

“You sound like Damiano,” Thomas pouts at you but still leaves. Not that he has another choice when Ethan throws him over his shoulders and leaves for the door.

“Those sandwiches are lovely,” Vic says later, “And I’m excited to taste the lemon tart.”

“Went through a lot of trouble for that one,” Thomas says but you choose not to correct him. You went through all the trouble. However you playfully put a lemon slice into Thomas’ lemonade.

“Hey,” Vic squeaks, “Why is he getting special treatment?”

“Because I’m a really special boy.”

.#####.

For dinner preparations Thomas stays away from the kitchen, too busy playing guitar at the pool. You seek out Damiano’s help, he happily obliges and fires on the grill that’s on the terrace. You can conveniently hand him the things that need to be grilled while the air is filled with Vic’s laughter, the sound of Thomas' guitar and a cicada background concert. Damiano and you happily chatting from grill to kitchen window until he calls everyone for dinner.

Thomas looks at his plate and then up to you.

“Figs stuffed with goat's cheese and wrapped in prosciutto,” you tell him, “And Damiano grilled them. You know I’ve heard somewhere that eating a fig is one of the most sensual experiences you can have.”

He blushes and you know that your flirting just became more intentful with this small gesture of food. 

“Sexy little appetiser,” Vic laughs. 

Damiano plates the next round of food, so everyone is free to take what they desire. Steak, vegetables, salad and grilled stuffed portobello mushrooms and little stuffed tomatoes. Thomas’ eyes stay a bit too long on them before he takes something of everything.

“I see,” he says, “We have some kind of a theme going here. Everything is stuffed.”

Now it’s on you to blush, but everyone is still gleefully chewing their food, so you take your chance: “I guess you can think of other things too?”

“I had those filled zucchini boats lately,” Ethan says oblivious to Thomas and you shamelessly flirting right under everyone’s nose, “Lovely dish.”

“The dish,” Vic asks, “Or the girl?”

“Both,” Ethan says before he quickly puts a fork full of food into his mouth.

.#####.

Later when everyone else left for bed, Thomas takes a spread of cheese, crackers and grapes that’s still left from your lovely garden picnic outside and places it between you. He stumps out his cigarette before he picks up a grape and holds it up to your lips. You open your mouth, and the grape bursts with flavour. Thomas leans in and for a short moment in time you think he leans over to kiss the sweet taste of the grape from your lips but even this moment passes. 

Next you hold a grape up to Thomas’ lips and he takes it with a hum. The intimacy of the moment isn’t lost on you and you’re certain that isn’t on Thomas either, a felt sense of surrender to the pleasure of the moment. Somehow getting lost in each other, the world around you fading away as you focused on the simple joy of grapes and Thomas next to you. 

As the bunch of grapes dwindles, you find yourself with a sense of sadness once again. You don’t want the moment to end but you know it will and while you both savoured the last few grapes you took your time and relished in the moment.

When the grapes are gone, only cheese and crackers left, you both laid there for a few more heartbeats, basking in the afterglow of the experience. You both don’t need words to express what you were feeling, you knew that you shared something special. You both had surrendered to the moment, and in doing so, you found something truly beautiful.

.#####.

Ethan and you are both standing in front of the chalkboard in the kitchen the next morning.

we’re going out tonight

Is written on the board in Ethan’s handwriting.

FOR DINNER!!!!

Underneath in Damiano’s. 

“But …,” Ethan says, “there’s this fair close by, I thought that would be fun.”

“I booked a table,” Damiano says apologetically, “but tomorrow we’re going to the fair, I promise.”

.#####.

Lunch is an adventure, you daydream with your eyes open, Thomas always the centre of your gaze. 

Thomas is dangling cherries over his mouth while Vic happily captures his every move with her phone camera. Thomas once again came to the table only in his swimming trunks, his bare feet edging around yours under the table. 

“Who do you think can spit the pit the furthest?” Vic asks Ethan who are the only ones that haven’t touched the cherries yet.

“Thomas,” Ethan answers. 

“Okay,” Vic says, “My bet is on her. 50 Euro?”

They both lose, when Damiano ends up being crowned the winner of your cherry pit spitting contest.

“But I bet you can’t do this,” Thomas says before stuffing a cherry stem into his mouth.

You can see utmost concentration reflecting on his face. 

“Show off,” Damiano comments before he turns away to talk with Ethan and Vic. 

Thomas looks into your eyes the whole time, you can see his tongue move. Hot pleasure sparking up your spine. And then he sticks out his tongue, still looking at you, the cherry stem laying on his tongue, a knot in it. He takes it off his tongue, rinses it in his glass of water before he puts it into your hands and you look at the knot in the stem fascinated. 

“How did you do that?”

“I can teach you,” and when he’s sure that everyone is distracted by something else he adds: “You know, I can put it to good use somewhere else as well.”

.#####.

You have to admit that Damiano picked a lovely little restaurant, you can see the sea from the terrace. Even Ethan is happy exclaiming that he was here not too long ago with someone.

“Who’s this mysterious person you’re keeping away from us?” Thomas teases.

“Special,” is the only answer he gets and Thomas shrugs. 

You can’t decide on a cocktail when Ethan nicely offers his advice which is why your choice falls on a sparkling raspberry cocktail called Love Potion that comes with a popsicle served in your glass. 

You carefully take the popsicle out of your drink when it arrives and suck on it under Thomas watchful eyes. He squirms in his chair, it’s even visible to Victoria who asks him if everything is okay. It’s the first time that you notice - really notice - that you have an effect on him as well.

.#####.

The next day Thomas eats peaches when everyone else retreats from the sun for a bit. You’re feeling close to blacking out but it isn’t the sun that troubles you, it’s Thomas. 

You’re in the pool, cool water engulfing you, while Thomas sits on a chair, sucking some juice from his fingers before he takes another one and bites into the flesh. When he’s done he seats himself at the edge of the pool, feet in the water. 

“You didn’t wash your hand,” you call him out but swim closer to him, interested in his antics. 

 “Yes, but I thought …” he trails off, “You like peach, right?”

He puts his peach-soaked fingers on your lips and without thinking you suck on his fingers, savouring the taste of peaches and Thomas’ skin. You’re between his legs. Once again a shared moment of intimacy, the water creating a private oasis where you can let your guard down and explore your attraction. That is until Vic jumps into the pool, ass first. You pull back and Thomas lets his fingers plop out of your mouth before Vic looks at you two smiling and you both wave at her.

.#####.

Later Vic offers you a lollipop, you happily take it from her when you think about the popsicle and the reaction Thomas’ body showed to it. 

After a few minutes Thomas has to dip into the pool and dives under water. You take it as a small success after the peach.

.#####.

“Since when are you on your phone 24/7?” Thomas asks Ethan when you’re walking through the fairground. “Did Vic possess you? Or are you flirting? Is it special?”

“Stop being mean,” you elbow him in his side.

“It’s okay,” Ethan assures you, “Yes, really special, thanks for asking. She’s a writer and sent me this idea a few days ago, so I’m just trying to be useful to bounce off ideas.”

“Cute,” you say and take his phone from him. He looks at you confused but then Vic hands him cotton candy. “Let me take a pic of you with that, you can send it to them.”

“Wonderful idea,” Vic comments and you can hear Thomas whispering something that sounds like All this time I have been surrounded by secret romantics only.

It doesn’t take long for you and Thomas to lose sight of the other ones. It’s a beautiful beach setting, the sounds of waves crashing on the shore. And you sit down for a bit, Thomas enjoying the sweet taste of cotton candy that Vic handed to him as well, while the sun slowly sets on the horizon. You laugh and talk and he feeds you some of the sticky treat as the sky turns into a canvas of oranges and pinks. The salty sea breeze gently brushes your skin. Thomas teases you with his sticky fingers and playfully wipes them on your cheeks and your nose before you chase him down the boardwalk. 

When you catch up with him, you can see that he smeared some of the sticky sugar on his cheek while biting into the fluffy treat. You take a tissue for yourself to get rid of the sticky residue on your cheek and then take another one to wipe his cheek clean.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, his eyes sparkling with amusement, “You’re always looking out for me.”

You blush, feeling a warm sensation spread through your chest. 

“Secretly romantic yourself, huh?” 

.#####.

The candy cotton gone, Thomas is having a debate with himself if he wants chocolate covered strawberries or if he wants a candy apple before joining Ethan for a hot dog who just called to ask where you two got lost.

He decides for the apple, once again a sticky mess, sticking to his chin and you pass him a tissue. You can’t help but laugh.

“You’re a mess,” you say, smiling at him kindly. 

“I couldn’t resist, and this takes the longest to eat,” he grins, his eyes sparkling with joy, “Which means I can spend more time with you alone.”

You blushed, feeling a flutter in your stomach. You walked through the fair, Thomas taking your hand in his, admiring the brightly lit rides, the sound of children laughing and music blasting from booths with silly games. As you approach a small ferris wheel he looks at you, again a twinkle in his eye: “You want to go up?”

You hesitate for a few seconds, unsure if you’re ready for the heights. But you look at him and he’s still smiling.

“Sure, let’s do it.”

“I promise, I’m gonna hold your hand the whole time.”

As you board the ride and you begin your ascent, Thomas leans close to you, still holding your hand and whispers: "I'm glad we did this."

“Me too,” you say softly, feeling the rush of the wind and the uncomfortable rush of heights but the comfortable touch of Thomas’ hand in yours. As you reach the top of the ferris wheel he gently squeezes your hand.

“You know, I feel like we have a connection," he says, his voice low.

You can feel your heart race, not only from the rush anymore.

“I know what you mean,” you’re saying with a surge of courage. You talk about the last time you both have been on a ferris wheel and then your topic of conversation swiftly switches to what was the most stupid thing you did to impress someone to what was your biggest regret. 

As you make your way down the Ferris wheel, he keeps his arm around you, holding you close and making you feel safe and protected. And then the ride already stops before you know it. 

More than half of his candy apple is still uneaten and as he takes another bite he starts to twirl his apple on the stick, trying to impress you with his finesse. He spins the apple faster and faster, trying to look impressive. You watch him with amusement before giving him a daring smile. Then he stops and takes a huge bite of the apple but as he does he accidentally bites into the stick, causing the apple to fall to the ground. You burst out laughing, and Thomas blushes, a hint of embarrassment. 

“Maybe it’s time to find the others.”

You find them ten minutes later in front of the hot dog stand Ethan mentioned earlier.

“Did you get lost or something?” Ethan asks.

“We got sidetracked,” you say, “By food and the ferris wheel.”

Vic looks at Thomas, disappointment visible on her face: “Hey, I want to go on the ferris wheel with you.”

“Sorry,” he grins, “Maybe ask Damiano.”

“Hell fucking no!” he shouts. 

“Maybe Eth here is interested,” Thomas suggests, “When he can leave his phone for a minute or two. Or maybe you aren’t interesting enough, Vic. Would she be crazy enough to go on a ride with you?”

Ethan looks up from his phone, you can see how he just sent another photo from when Thomas and you were lost. Not very Ethan like and when he sees your questioning gaze he says: “Everything for a little bit of joy, you know.” Then he looks at Thomas, “Yes! And I would hold they hand the whole time while watching the sun.”

“A crazy thing to do,” Damiano chirps in.

“Love story of the summer,” Vic smiles at Ethan, “Happy for you.”

Thomas winks at you when your gaze crosses. 

.#####.

Thomas has a frappuccino and strawberries for breakfast the next morning when you come into the kitchen in your pyjamas, the rest of the house still quiet. 

He takes small sips of his pink drink while maintaining eye contact with you. Then he takes it a step further, running his tongue over his lips after he had a sip. Next he playfully dips his finger into the whipped cream but instead of offering it to you, initiating physical contact this way, he licks the cream off himself and lets out a satisfied moan. Still looking into your eyes, it’s a bold move but by now you don’t expect anything less from him and when he takes another sip he lets some whipped cream get on his nose. 

“Oops,” he says playfully, “Would you mind helping me?”

You know, he did it because of the night at the fair prior, and it’s kind of silly and cute in it’s own way.

“That the connection you talked about?” you ask.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says, “I love the day long foreplay, really enjoying it, but I also love talking with you, and listening to your ideas and sharing my thoughts with you.”

He grabs your waist and gently pulls you down in his lap. 

“I love conversations with you too.” And then you grin when you see Thomas' soft gaze, you know it’ll take him off guard. “Foreplay you said, hmmmm?”

“Uhhhm,” he squirms under you, “Yeah.”

He takes a strawberry and takes it between his teeth, edges closer to you. Your hand on his stubbly cheek. You take it off him with your lips and it’s the first time you feel his lips on your, a kiss. He takes another strawberry that you steal from him and he lets his tongue dance around yours for a few minutes before he bites your tongue and you moan into his mouth. 

You wonder how everyone is still oblivious to what you two are doing.

.#####.

For lunch Thomas drinks red wine across from you. Lovely colour on his lips, against his pale skin. He takes notes out of your book, still remembering the fig, red lips and wine dripping down his chin. 

He bats his eyelashes at you innocently.

You want to kiss the spill away but he takes a napkin before anyone else can notice.

.#####.

That night Damiano serves champagne with dinner and you decide to be bold. Even bolder than Thomas, you don’t care that everyone is watching when some of your drink drips down your chin.

“What the fuck is going on?” Vic asks, “How did you both get stupid? He somehow can’t eat normally anymore, you’re spilling everything over yourself. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m great,” you answer, “Just spilled something.”

Thomas looks at you fascinated. A little bit of pride sparking in his eyes, his gaze still at your lips while you’re thinking about all the things you want to do to him.

The rest of the dinner is quiet and civilised, no one calling you out on your bullshit, or stopping you to get deeper into this. After you finish your plate you get up and outside to clear your head.

Thomas follows you only minutes later to the back of the garden, hidden by trees and plants. He has the bottle of champagne in hand.

“Whatever you just thought of, you can do it, you know.”

He hands you the bottle. Thomas moans loud when you climb into his lap, tipping some champagne into his mouth that he willingly opens for you.

“God, Thomas. Stop masturbating in the wild,” you can hear Damiano say from the terrace and you quietly laugh against Thomas’ neck. 

You let some spill over Thomas’ neck before you get some champagne on Thomas’ nipples and you lick the liquid away. Thomas shudders and moans under you, quieter this time. There’s champagne on his stomach and some that you lick out of his navel. Thomas squirms more and more under you the closer you get to his dick. He gasps when you spill cold champagne over it and lightly blow against the tip. Thomas’ hand grabs for your hair and you moan as well. He squirms more with every lick, every kiss to his sensitive skin.

“Fuck.”

You don’t do more than french kissing him but every reaction shows you that it does something for him. 

“Fuck, I’m not gonna be able to hold that.”

You teasingly let your tongue play with his tip, which already draw the most moans out of him before, now the moans are turning into little whimpers before he bucks up his hips and cums. 

“Sorry,” he says and uses his shirt to get the cum off your face, “I … I didn’t touch myself since we started this.”

“Interesting,” it’s absolutely not what you expected and you shamefully think about the times you touched yourself, you blush. Thomas looks at you. “You think you could do that again?”

His eyes go wide, another whimper escaping his lips.

“Before we fuck fuck?”

“That’s a possibility?”

“Oh, hell yes,” you laugh and Thomas enthusiastically nods his head. “No touching for you but maybe you can show me what that talented tongue can do with other things than a cherry stem later?”

“Yes,” you can feel his breath against the skin of your neck, “And then in a few days we can … switch?”

“Sure,” you say and leave another kiss on his lips before you get up.

You can't help but feel a sense of closeness and vulnerability, as if you're sharing a secret that only the pool water can hear.

On the way inside you see Damiano sitting by the open window and looking at you shocked when you enter from outside.

“Oh god, I am soooo sorry … On Thomas’ behalf.”

“What?”

“Wait, did you not he- see him?”

“No, I did, he sits in the grass,” you smile at him, “He smokes.”

“Thank god.”

He doesn’t know that you just licked off champagne from Thomas’ nipples. And his dick.

.#####.

Thomas joins you in your room half an hour later when you’re just taking a shower. As the warm water cascaded down your body, you let out a contented sigh. You always loved the soothing feeling a shower gives you. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the water wash away every thought that exists in your head.

You suddenly hear the bathroom open and footsteps approaching, you turn around and expect to see Thomas just grabbing a towel or to announce that he’s there but to your surprise he undresses himself and walks straight towards the shower.

“Hey,” you laugh, “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t resist,” he smirks, “And I think I promised this talented tongue to someone.”

He steps into the shower and wraps his long arms around you. 

You lean into Thomas’ embrace and tilt your head up, meeting his lips in a gentle kiss. Your bodies pressing together, the water cascading down your skin as you explore each other's mouths.

As you continue to kiss, Thomas’ hands begin to wander, tracing patterns over your wet skin. You shiver at his touch, feeling a familiar warmth building between your legs. You press your body closer to his, silently asking for more.

He responds by trailing kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, sending more shivers down your spine. Thomas nibbles gently at your earlobe, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. 

You stay there in the shower, lost in each other. Reluctantly, you pull away from each other and step out of the shower, wrapping each other in towels. Drying him you give him a knowing look, both of you feeling the heat between you.

He slowly leads you to your bed and follows closely after you when you fall down on it and then he’s between your legs. Smiling up to you. 

“So,” you smile at him - getting your hands into his hair, “That talented tongue you’re so proud of?”

Thomas nods between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire as he takes in the sight before him. With a shy kiss, he begins to explore every inch of your sensitive flesh. His tongue tracing every curve and fold with precision and skill. As you catch your breath, you look down at him and see the look of satisfaction and pride on his face. You smile and run your fingers through his hair, pulling a little harder. 

As he continues to tease and tantalise you, you find yourself succumbing to the pleasure building within you, your breath coming in short gasps, arching your hips towards him and moaning with each flick of his tongue, and gentle suck of his lips. There’s a knock coming from Damiano’s room above and Thomas laughs when you can hear Damiano shout of the window to please stop. 

The sensations become more intense with each passing moment. His tongue delves deeper, until finally you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge. You cling to the sheets as you shudder with ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride the waves of your orgasm. As you come down from the peak of pleasure, Thomas’ face comes into view, his eyes full of satisfaction as he gazes at you with reverence.

You lay there, panting and sweating, feeling a sense of euphoria sweep over you. You start smiling when Thomas pulls himself up to lay beside you, wrapping his arms around you. Holding you close. Your bodies entwine, and you bask in the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

When you can finally breathe again, you’re both flushed, your bodies still buzzing with desire. 

"I think we've discovered the most sensual experience of all," you say.

He smiles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"Oh, I think we've only just begun to scratch the surface here.”

As the night progresses you find yourself lost in each other’s company. Talking about everything and nothing. The dimly lit room seems to glow with a sense of intimacy all around you when Thomas falls asleep in his arms.

.#####.

The next morning there are no restraints anymore, you leave for the kitchen together but Thomas is still playing his games when Vic joins you at the table, still oblivious to everything.

Thomas chooses pineapple, bread and takes some honey, an unusual choice for him, but when he gets back to the table you know why he all of a sudden felt the craving for it. While he tries to get honey on his slice of bread, he drips honey on his thigh. On a spot you licked champagne off his skin last night. 

 “What a dilemma,” he says and Vic laughs while you blush. And somehow get even redder when Damiano enters the room.

“When?” he looks at you, then at Thomas, “When and where did this happen?”

“Here,” Thomas says, using his fingers to delicately take off a piece of pineapple from his plate, taking a playful bite first before he runs it along your lips, “Right under all your noses.”

Victoria looks at you shocked, and also searching for guidance in what’s going on: “Wait, what? You two are … Wait, are you fucking?” She slaps his shoulder. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“We didn’t even fuck yet,” Thomas says.

It’s the first time Ethan says something: “Well, whatever you two did last night, I’m sure it counts as sex.”

“Please wait with the fucking until you’re home,” Damiano looks at you, “Please.”

Thomas pouts at you from the side and shakes his head, probably thinking about the fact that he isn’t allowed to touch himself until then.

“Sure, that’s only a week.”

.#####.

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[oro-e-diamanti]

Puppet Masterlist | Puppet Taglist | Ko-Fi

Thomas is doing everything he can to make your day special. Little does he know, everything is special to you as long as he's with you.

Content | Smut

Word Count | 4.4k

Lesson Seventeen: Learn to love.

When you woke up, you expected to find Ethan's warm body next to you, hoping he wasn't already up and ready for the day, but what you found instead was a pair of pale, thin arms slung over you and Thomas' nose nuzzling into your hair from behind. You turned around in his arms, sleepy eyes watching his alert ones with a smile. You didn't know what he was doing here or how he had convinced Ethan to swap places, but you weren't complaining as you snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"Happy birthday," he exclaimed and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before giving you a chance to react. You stared at him, confused, both at his statement and then the fact that you had, indeed, managed to forget about your birthday.

"Thank you," you replied, still trying to wake up and realise what day it was, but his face and the utterly peaceful look on it, mixed with a little bit of excitement he couldn't hide, had you grinning back at him. Grabbing onto his head, you pulled him to you again, making sure the kiss lasted, deepened, gave him a hint of everything going on in your head.

"What time is it?" you asked, realising you felt more rested than you had in a while.

"Eleven."

"Eleven! Don't we have to be up? What's on the calendar for today, you probably needed to be somewhere hours ago, Thomas!"

You were almost halfway out the bed, but Thomas simply held onto your arm and pulled you back into a lying position and back into him. You looked at him, baffled, but he giggled.

"I took the day off. We only have some interviews today so the others are gonna cover for me. I'll take you somewhere. Today is about you."

You felt like crying, in the best way possible. You were well aware that getting out of work was hardly easy for any of them unless there was an actual problem or emergency and the fact that he had managed to clear his entire day just to spend it with you meant more than any other birthday present ever had. Thomas didn't miss you getting emotional, quickly pressing a kiss to the top of your head and then pulling you further into his arms, leg swung around you to get you as close as humanly possible.

"No crying. At least not yet. We can keep that for when I make you come for the fourth time and you beg me to stop."

***

You couldn't recall where Thomas was taking you - you were sure he had mentioned the name of the place but it had slipped your mind the second the word left his mouth - but as you rolled down the windows of the rented car, warm summer air messing up your hair, and Thomas turned the music up to sing along, nothing really mattered all that much. His hand found your thigh, casually resting on it as if it didn't ignite a fire in you and you realised you couldn't remember the last time you were truly alone with him. Not with the others around, or next door, or coming back in a minute or constantly in earshot. Just you and him. A wave of nostalgia hit you, reminders of old-time adventures and sleepovers and when he briefly turned his face towards you and squeezed your leg, you instinctively knew he was thinking about the same thing.

He took your hand as you got out of the car, parked somewhere off in some residential street, before leading you towards the center of the seaside town, phone in his other hand to make sure he would find the way. The palm of your skin was getting sweaty, a little more with every step you took. You couldn't help but wonder if it was the sun, high in the sky and warming you up, or the way being with Thomas somehow felt different. You followed him blindly, you always had, as he pulled you past little shops and boutiques full of trinkets, up a little hill, crossing streets, all the way making sure to catch your eyes every now and then, a serene but excited smile playing on his lips.

You were so focused on him, the way his eyes seemed to sparkle, how his blond hair was just inviting you to tread your fingers through its strands, how his jeans hugged his hips just right, that you almost missed the moment he stopped walking. The beach. Miles and miles of water ahead of you, no land in sight at the end of it, nothing but pure blue lapping at the sand in gentle waves. You would have expected more people to be around, but it being a weekday meant you were only joined by a family with a small child happily playing in the sand, a couple on a walk, and a few people letting their dogs run. It was perfect.

It wasn't about the place. It wasn't about the sun shining down on you or the ocean sparkling in front of you or the way the breeze didn't manage to cool your cheeks enough to make them appear any less red. It was about him. It was all about him.

There was something intensely intimate about the way he wrapped you in his arms, holding you tight and secure, and claimed your mouth with his in a sweet yet passionate kiss. You melted against him, molding yourself to his body, filling all the nooks and crannies just as he was doing yours. A sigh travelled from you to him, breathing exchanged without any hurry, your body ignited. You only let go of him because the realisation that you were very much in a public place filled your brain, but even then you couldn't bring yourself to separate your bodies. Staying in his embrace, you simply looked up at him as he looks back at you, eyes saying everything you couldn't make sense of just yet.

Thomas' rumbling stomach interrupted the moment, both of you breaking out in giggles.

"Come on," he said, taking your hand again. "I've made a reservation."

***

"Best table for the honeymoon couple," the waiter grinned as he led you to what was arguably the best view you could have in the seaside restaurant. It was a little more fancy than you would have expected, but as soon as you sat down at the floor-length window, staring at the vastness of the water outside, none of it mattered anymore. You turned toward Thomas as soon as the waiter left you with the menus.

"Honeymoon couple?"

He blushed gorgeously. "It was impossible to get a table here. I might have flunked a bit to get them on my side."

The giggle, both at his embarrassment and the situation itself, travelled up your throat until it bubbled out of you.

"Well, shouldn't my newly-appointed husband at least be holding my hand then?" You laughed but Thomas didn't hesitate in reaching for you over the table and engulfing your hand in his larger one. "Maybe that way they won't notice the lack of, you know, wedding rings."

"We'll just say we're a very modern couple who doesn't believe in wedding rings," Thomas made up on the spot. "Besides, if I were to mark you as mine, I'd rather put a choker on you."

You choked indeed, only unfortunately it was on the water you were trying to sip and not a leather band round your neck. Thomas' face was smug and knowing. How had this happened? When had he gotten so confident and bold and open? Or was it just when he was with you?

Your train of thought was interrupted by the approaching waiter.

"A wine on the house to toast to the new marriage!"

Thomas and you tried your hardest to hold in your giggles, luckily managing at least until the waiter had left. Thomas immediately moved the glass towards you, clicking it with his own as you lifted it up.

"To your birthday, and our wedding night," he grinned as you raised your brow at him with a smirk. "It's all about you tonight, cucciola. To you."

***

The sun was setting by the time you were making your way to your room for the night. You took your time wandering through the small town after dinner, both of you complaining about having eaten too much, and you desperately needed some movement to feel less bloated. Even if you weren't quite sure what his plans for the night were, yours didn't exactly include a lot of sleeping, and you wouldn't be enjoying that with a belly painfully full of food.

Stopping by the car, you both took a bag each with whatever you had carelessly packed that morning. You were already turning away when you saw him grabbing another tote back, bulky, but carefully covered with something in wrapping paper at the top so you couldn't get any hints towards its contents. Thomas grinned as he noticed you staring.

"Couple of presents for the birthday girl," he explained, pressing a kiss to your lips before closing the trunk of the car.

"Presents or presents?" you asked with a smirk, not entirely sure if there were actually toys of that purpose present or if you were mainly hoping for it, a little bit. You hadn't forgotten about his panicked escape from the sex shop in Berlin.

Thomas simply laughed as he took your hand and dragged you away. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

***

You were too stunned to speak when Thomas presented you with your room for the night. It was more than a room. You had expected him to maybe splurge a bit, get a fancy hotel, room service, pulling all the stop, but this was so much better.

The bungalow was on the beach, literally right at the sea, hidden only by a fence of bamboo shoots and the dunes in the back. He unlocked the door, glass all around to give you the best view of the surroundings, curtains still drawn open. The place was homely, comfortable, a modern touch without feeling cold and your heart seemed to leap out of your chest. It was simply perfect, and, somehow, Thomas had known.

You hugged him even before he had properly set the bags down but he reciprocated without hesitation. You mumbled a thank you in his hair and the only way you could be sure he heard is by the way he squeezed you that little bit tighter. You almost felt dazed as you let go of him.

"Well, while I do have plans for tonight," he smirked with a less-than-subtle nod towards the large bed in the room, "your presents are up first. They're from all of us."

You didn't protest as he pulled away, motioning for you to take a seat at the table as he one by one put the wrapped-up assortment of his bag onto it. You didn't question how they managed to get wrapping paper or, in fact, take the time to acquire any presents at all. As soon as he nodded at you, you started tearing into them, childlike excitement taking over you. Thomas kept quiet as your gasps and squeals filled the room.

Various sewing tools littered the table, scissors, colourful thread, a rotary cutter with an accompanying mat, a new seam ripper - you wondered if this one was chosen by Damiano in memory of the first time you ever hinted at your skills -, accessories for the sewing machine they had gifted you, everything clearly expensive and of high quality. The next one was a pair of earrings, one in the shape of a pair of scissors, the other a thimble, and you fell in love immediately. It was followed by a voucher for you to sew a piece of your choice for each of them to be worn on their upcoming tour.

"Okay, that one might be a bit of a selfish present," Thomas laughed. You sent him a look, but quickly followed in laughing. It was an honour, still, even if they also did it simply to have something of yours as their very own.

"This one's just from me," he sheepishly admitted as he pushed the last present toward you. This one you unwrapped rather carefully, even if it was obviously wrapped the worst, but it had you assuming Thomas had insisted on doing it on his own. You were greeted with a perfume bottle. For a moment, you were slightly confused, recognising it as a men's perfume, but then the realisation dawned on you, even before he spoke. "It's the one I wear. I don't know it's probably a stupid idea, but I know you like it and I thought... well you're leaving for uni soon and I just thought maybe it would remind you of me when I'm not around."

You watched as he became more restless with every word, fumbling with his hair, pushing it behind his ears just to shake it free again, his eyes not quite meeting yours. You stood up immediately, crossing the short distance between the two of you to pull him up from his seat and force him to look at you.

"It's the best one," you told him, earnestly, as you held his face in your hands. "I love it."

You hoped the kiss would tell him everything he needed to know. You thought it was working, too, as he deepened it almost instantly, wrapping you in his arms. The backward movement was barely noticeable to you as it was so slow and natural, until your legs hit the ledge of the bed and you inadvertently broke the kiss as you dropped onto it.

You were dying to pull Thomas with you, the yearning you'd had for him all day increased by tenfold, but he simply gave you a smile, before turning around and diligently closing all the curtains of the place, securing utmost privacy for the two of you. The confirmation of what it meant would follow only got you more excited. He brought the bag with him as he came back to you, a dangerous glint in his eyes, telling you he knew things you had no clue about yet. It would have made you nervous with anyone else, but with him you simply felt calm anticipation.

Thomas took his time undressing you. Every show of skin was accompanied by kisses, licks, the tiniest bites on your flesh. Your shirt was quickly discarded, along with your bra. You expected him to stop at your breasts, pay them more attention, but he had other plans in mind. Your trousers were gone quickly, boots thrown away and socks following, delicate fingers pulling down your panties. He mustered you closely, making sure to take in every inch of your naked body, but it didn't make you feel insecure. It made you feel loved.

"Lie down on your front."

You weren't sure if you had ever heard Thomas command you around with a steady voice, but it was an immense turn-on, so you followed quickly. The sheets were soft against your naked skin, slightly colder than your body as it kept heating up and you almost felt embarrassed at how easily he got you in the mood, how easily he had you in the palm of his hand. You heard him rustling around behind you, but you didn't dare lift your head and look. Your idea about him keeping you in the unknown was confirmed when he softly touched your head, motioning for you to lift it up, and slipped a blindfold over your eyes.

"Is this okay?"

His voice wasn't showing any uncertainty, but the question was important.

"Yes," you sighed happily. The lack of sight was already heightening your perception of his touch.

"Tell me if it gets too much."

You nodded into the pillow, almost struggling not to move as you wondered what his next move would be. "Just... Can you get undressed? I want to feel you closer."

He didn't answer as he moved off the bed but you could hear the familiar rustle of fabric, the low thud of his shoes hitting the floor, the metallic clicking of his belt buckle. Then he was back on the bed, another noise you couldn't quite place, but he straddled your back and you could feel his skin on yours without any barriers. The happy sigh that escaped you turned into a thankful moan as his hands landed on your back, wet and sticky - massage oil.

You hadn't been aware how tense you had been, how tight your muscles had become, until Thomas' hands started working their magic. You treasured every little touch, however light or hard, along your neck, your shoulders, your spine, to the small of your back. It was impossible to recall the last time you had felt so relaxed.

It didn't last long, in the end, as his way of moving against your skin slowly changed. More and more, his fingers became daring, went lower, all over your back, dipping down the sides to trace the side of your breasts, a hint of a touch. You couldn't hide just how much you wanted him, how much you needed it. There was no way to stop the impatient wiggling under him as you craved more from him.

Thomas' hands became more daring, lingering longer on the side of your breasts with a heavier grasp, then wandering lower, lower, repositioning himself as he started kneading the flesh of your thighs. They spread almost instinctively, silently begging for more as you could feel your arousal heightening, wetness increasing with every second he came closer to the upper parts of your legs, thumbs dangerously close to your inner thighs. You wanted to scream in impatience, telling him you were ready, demanding more, but he didn't give you a chance.

Before you could quite process what was happening, his hand was fully between your legs, two fingers entering you at the same time, easily aided by your ever-increasing wetness and the massage oil on him. Your moans filled the room as he worked on you, slowly, sensually moving inside of you, almost to the point of pulling his fingers all the way out, before repeating the sensation. Your walls were clenching around him, needing more, needing them deeper, but he wasn't being merciful.

A third finger joined and you wanted to scream at how nicely they fit inside of you, how perfectly his long, skinny fingers stroked you, but you were still craving him in a different way. His other hand was wandering all around your body, touching every inch of your skin, the oil slowly drying as his fingertips danced along it. It was sweet and sensual and sexy and it was making you lose your mind.

When Thomas removed his fingers, you wanted to cry out, but in an instant, his hands were grabbing at your hips, lifting them up until you had scrambled to get on your knees for him, your head still on the pillow, mindlessly holding yourself up on your elbows as the anticipation rose.

"Gonna be a good girl for me and let me treat you right?" He all but whispered, barely audible over your intense heartbeat, but you nodded, a gasped yes, pushing your butt towards him more in encouragement.

Thomas entered you slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid you would break, even though both of you knew there wasn't any danger in that. He stilled for a moment as he was fully inside of you, leaning over you to press soft kisses on your back and you felt whole.

"Thomas... please." You couldn't keep the pleading inside. You felt him everywhere, inside and all around you, between your legs, against your back, in your head, in your heart. He finally took mercy on you, almost coaxing a tear out of you as he started moving. It was intense right from the first thrust. Thomas was attentive to your every move, to your every need, and he fulfilled it all perfectly as he fucked you. If it had been anyone else, you would have felt self-conscious about the way the orgasm was already building deep inside of you, a pool of lust daring to erupt at any moment, but this was Thomas, taking care of you, loving you, and you didn't find anything in you that cared.

His rhythm faltered for a moment and you wondered what had him distracted, too deep in your own pleasure to notice what he was doing, but then his arm curled around you and on his next thrust, a vibration pushed against your clit and all through your body. It was all-encompassing and you knew it was going to happen before it did. The tell-tale sign in your lower belly made you nervous for a split second, a brief panic about being in a room that wasn't your own, on a blanket that wasn't your own, but you had no way of stopping it.

Your mind was too clouded to remember the details, all you knew was an intense feeling of wetness splashing down your thighs, Thomas groaning deeply and spurring you on, fucking you harder, then the knot in your stomach untangling like an explosion, coming on his dick, squirting, crying and moaning, feeling him come inside you.

Reaching your height left you dazed. You let Thomas take care of everything, slipping the blindfold off you, letting him move you around to remove the top blanket, providing you with towels and water, before sneaking back into the bed with you and holding you close. You snuggled into him immediately, catching your breath and listening to his heartbeat as it slowly came back to normal.

His hand on your cheek, he pulled your head towards him. The kiss was soft and sweet but full of emotions you weren't able to make sense of in your post-orgasmic haze. All you knew was you needed him closer. Wrapping your arms around him, you moved him to you, shuffling until he was fully on top of you. Nothing else would do. You'd hardly had the chance to explore his body before. It didn't matter that you seemed to know it by heart already. You would never grow sick of letting your hands run over his skin, feel his chest against yours, follow the little trail down his stomach, it was exciting and arousing all the same.

The kiss became more frenzied. You simply couldn't get enough of his lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth, his taste on you. Your legs easily wrapped around them, still a little shaky, but determined to leave no space between you. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once. You could feel him growing against you.

"Already up for it again?" you smirked and he dropped his head on your shoulder with a laugh.

"Are you?" he countered, and somehow, you couldn't stop a blush rising on your cheeks as you nodded.

He didn't refrain from kissing you for too long, both of you still insatiable, a deeply routed need for each other overcoming you. You could feel his heart against your own chest, so close that every piece of him seemed to become a piece of you. You felt at ease and excited beyond belief at the same time. When he pulled back to catch his breath, you took the moment to study his face. You'd stared at him a million times before, you were sure, but you couldn't get enough. Fingers tracing over every curve and dimple, you simply took him in.

With your eyes fixated on each other, he reached down, taking hold of himself, and pushing into you once again. It felt different in the best way possible. Joined together by more than just a sexual act. He moved slowly, his forehead pressed against yours as if he simply couldn't get close enough. There was a connection that had never been there before, not with him, not with anyone else. No toys, no props, no dirty talk, just the two of you telling each other everything with their eyes.

Thomas' soft whimpers increased steadily as your moans got louder, noises somewhere between gasping and on the verge of crying. You didn't notice that tears were actually rolling down your cheeks until Thomas started wiping them away. His eyes showed worry, but you simply smiled at him and pulled him into another kiss and he knew.

Both of your movements got more frantic as you chased the high, still impossibly intertwined, your thighs tightly wrapped around him, when it fell from your lips.

"I love you."

You'd told each other before, all of you, many times, but...

"I love you too."

You came with a cry and it seemed to be all it took to push him over the edge as well. You clung to each other, passionately, desperately, as you felt your orgasms travel through every single part of your body, lighting you up and setting you aflame.

The past weeks had changed so much. You'd learned and grown and matured and rediscovered old friendships and new connections. You weren't the person that had shily accepted the band's invitation to stay with them anymore. And yet, as you lay in Thomas' arms, it felt like no time had passed at all from those sleepovers back in the day, only the two of you, rooms dark and silences filled heartbeats. The way it had always meant to be.

***

The morning light hit your eyes through the partially opened blinds. Thomas was standing in front of the window, looking out at the empty beach. He was on the phone but didn't say anything apart from affirmative noises. The desire to get up and trace your fingers over his backside, feel over every little beauty mark, was high, but you were comfortably wrapped up in the sheets still, so you decided to enjoy the view instead.

When he finally hung up and turned around, you were surprised by the serious look on his face. It didn't change, even as he stared straight at you and it had your heart beating out of your chest in the most uncomfortable way.

"What is it?" you asked, sitting up immediately, clutching the sheet to your naked chest.

"We need to go back. There's been more paparazzi photos. With you in them. Management has set up a meeting with all of us."

"All-"

"I'm sorry. They want to talk to you, too."

You had no idea what was ahead, but the queasiness running through your whole body had you convinced it wasn't going to be good.

***

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[hxllfires-gifs]

PAIRING. thomas raggi x fem!reader

SUMMARY. y/n comes to terms with the fact that she’s bisexual but finds it difficult to tell her lovely boyfriend, but as everyone would expect, he fully supports her.

WORD COUNT. 914

THE SOUND OF a sigh filled the room as Y/N L/N paced back and forth, thought after thought running wild inside of her brain. Her boyfriend Thomas was coming home from a couple of months of touring the world with his band. The girl was beyond proud of him, but she could not think about him right then. Thinking about him brought forth anxiety as she had something important to tell him.

She had always questioned her sexuality but only recently came to terms with it. She was bisexual and while she knew Thomas was going to be supportive, she could not shake the nervousness inside of her chest. It wasn’t necessarily him or their friends that made her nervous, more-so the public.

There was a part of her that worried that things would change once she came out, as crazy as it may seem to some people. It was pretty scary but she tried to push down the negative feelings. She eventually stopped pacing once she heard the sound of a door opening and closing, not realizing Thomas had gotten home until then.

“Amore mio,” the Italian called out while he shrugged off his jacket.

“In here,” she responded. She attempted to hide the fact that she had been stressed out and anxious, but didn’t know if he would believe it.

One thing about Thomas Raggi was that he was so attuned to her feelings and the tells her body would give when she was not feeling positively. That’s one thing that she loved about him, even though there was a long list of reasons. He was always there for her and they supported each other so she felt a little silly for being so fearful. She just couldn’t help it.

Thomas walked into their shared room, a smile appearing on his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Her H/C hair was tied up into a messy bun and she was sporting a pair of shorts and a blue tank top. He always loved seeing her looking so comfortably. She was the most stunning person to him and he was always quick to show her these feelings.

He walked closer to Y/N and hugged her for the first time in months, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment. He had missed her more than words could express so of course the first thing he had to do was hold her. However, his moment of peace wasn’t long once he felt her hesitation to return the affection. He pulled away and furrowed his brows.

He confusingly asked, “Are you alright? You usually are happier to see me. I didn’t do anything wrong and forget, did I?”

“No baby, you didn’t do anything.” She was quick to calm down his rising worry.

The girl turned and went to sit down on their bed, closing her eyes for a second to calm herself. She opened her eyes and was met with her boyfriend sitting next to her, a gleam of concern in his eyes.

“N/N, is everything okay? Did something happen while I was gone?” Thomas asked a little too fast but she was able to understand each word.

Y/N turned her head and their eyes made contact for a split second before she looked away. “No? Yes? I don’t know, it’s not all that important I guess. There’s just been a lot on my mind but it’s not anything that anyone has done. I’ve just come to terms with this part of myself that I wanted to hide for the longest time.”

When Thomas still had confusion painted on his face, she knew that she would have to elaborate further. She took his left hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. She looked at him again and was ready to get everything over with.

“I’ve come to terms with the fact that I am bisexual. I’ve been nervous to come out and actually say those words. I wasn’t nervous to tell you specifically because you’re the most supportive, but not everyone is like that. I worry that people will take my sexuality and turn it into something negative when it comes to you.”

She continued sharing her feelings after pausing for a moment. “I mean, there has always been a stigma that bisexual people cheat, and I don’t want people saying that about me and our relationship.”

Thomas kissed the top of his girlfriend’s head and held her other hand too. He felt happy that she trusted him enough to be open with this information but he hated that she was thinking about things that would’ve never crossed his mind.

“Mia cara, I’m so proud of you. I know it’s not the easiest thing but I adore you. I don’t want you worrying about something like that because I know you love me. I love you too and I trust you. Your sexuality is a beautiful part of you. There will always be people who don’t understand but you have to ignore it.”

He raised one of her hands up and kissed the back of it. He looked back at his girlfriend and noticed the tears in her eyes.

“How did I get so lucky?” Y/N asked.

Thomas chuckled and shook his head. “I think I’m the lucky one. How about we watch a movie to cheer you up?”

“That sounds great,” Y/N agreed.

The couple spent the rest of the day in each other’s arms, watching movies and enjoying each other’s company.

AUTHORS NOTE! this is an older imagine that i’d written a couple months ago. i have a eurovision imagines book published on wattpad and i finally decided to post some of them on here since there isn’t that many none-måneskin related ones. yes, i started with a måneskin member, but i do have a lot of others for loreen, bojan, käärijä, etc. if you see any typos, please ignore them because this was written months ago and just copied from my notes. thanks for reading!

[filthforfriends]

The Hybrid (Part 3)

Read parts 1 & 2 on my Masterlist

Damiano x Thomas deranged Omegaverse

Word Count: 5.8k

CW: Gratuitous, self-indulgent, sacrilegious hurt/comfort mentioning domestic abuse

Vic: Weird question but is Damia with you by any chance? He stood me up for lunch today & he’s not answering his phone. 

Vic: Hey just remembered you’re working, sorry! I’ll just go bother him he probably forgot.

Vic: Oh my god Thomas call me

“Hey its, Victoria, call me when you get this is really important. It’s about Damiano, the security force is here.” 

“Hey it's me again. I’m taking him to the hospital and he’s asking for you. I don’t think he’s too hurt.”

Vic: The doctors are evaluating Damiano (check your fucking voice messages). Why aren’t you answering??? I know you’re off work

Vic: HES ASKING FOR YOU

“Thomas, I can’t deal with this alone. So call me soon, or I’ll call Ethan. You better have an excellent fucking excuse.”

“Hey, it's Ethan. Victoria told me to tell you to call her. What's going on?”

Ethan: Is Dami hurt? Victoria sounded really upset, but she said she needed your help. Let me know that everything is okay, please.

Thomas had silenced his phone for a private music therapy session. He ended up talking to the parents for 45 minutes afterwards, giving them assurance more than anything else. Feeling excellent about his day, Thomas turned his phone back on to check his messages and had an actual panic attack. He crouched down, aching pain in his chest, feeling sick, and called Victoria. 

“What the fu -”

“Work ran late, I’m so sorry. Where is he?”

“He insisted we go back to his place, but he’s been regressing. Like he’s not even verbal.”

“I’m coming now!” Thomas tripped over his own feet, grabbing his keys, wallet, coat, and scarf from various places in the room.

“Uh, okay. I’m - I’m not sure what to do right now. He demanded we go home, but maybe I shouldn't have listened to him. I just wasn’t sure what, what…” Her voice breaks and Thomas can barely breathe.

“What the fuck happened!?” He takes the steps two at a time, while trying to stuff everything into his pockets.

“Damiano basically rid every trance of Samuel’s scent from the apartment and his nest smells like someone else.” Thomas’ stomach dropped. For a second he struggled to speak.

“Wh – wha – but they’re not exclusive.”

“Yeah, but they had a fight and Damiano told him to just get out, that he didn’t want to bother with the dynamic anymore. Said he didn’t get anything out of it, and he’d lost interest.” Victoria paused, sighing, and her tone changed. “It was all very sudden, I think he just snapped, it's not like there was much romance there. So Sam got all his shit together, but he roughed Dami up in the process.”

“What the –” Thomas drops his phone on the seat, while trying to maneuver everything into the car. “What happened? What – is he okay?”

“Bruises, and his face is a little messed up. Almost got a hairline fracture on his ribs. I didn’t think Samuel was the type.” But I did. The tears burned in Thomas’ eyes as he drove out of the parking lot. He should have known when Damiano flinched, he should have known. He should have pressed the issue.

“I didn’t think Dami was the type to stay with an abuser. He’s so strong.” Even as he said the words he hated himself. What kind of victim blaming bullshit mentality was that? No matter how powerful he may be, Damiano was an omega first and foremost. Forced into a subservient role by society, even he was subject to abuse. Thomas let out a sob on the phone.

“Hey he’ll be healed in a couple weeks.”

“No he won’t,” Thomas says through gritted teeth. “You don’t just get over that.” Despite himself, he lets out another sob and almost hits someone’s bumper.

“Hey Thomas, hey –”

“I should have answered the phone.” The visual of Damiano, in a hospital bed, asking for him, wounded and scared, plagues him. Thomas had to grip the steering wheel tighter because his hands were shaking. “I failed him, I fucking failed him. He was hurt and I wasn’t there. I should have known.”

“Hey Tom, it's not like you ignored this on purpose.”

“He was asking for me, and I wasn’t fucking here.” His voice lilts upwards at the end and cracks. He has to slow down because of the tears. “It’s my fault.”

“Thomas, just get here. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Oh, but I did. 

“Okay, I’m gonna hang up, so I don’t crash.”

“Okay, we’ll see you soon. Breathe.” Thomas’ tunnel vision narrows as he bounds up the stairs, wrestling with the door. The lock had been knocked loose and shoved back into place.

“Damiano!” he calls out, already knowing where he is. Victoria is crouched down next to the closet, where the door is cracked open. Her mascara has long since dried on her cheeks and she looks shaken. Thomas drops to the floor and sees Damiano curled in his nest. He’s using the corner that contains Thomas’ dirty clothes as a pillow. Dami was trying his best to self-soothe, and Thomas’ scent was his mechanism. Yet, he’d had to go to the hospital without him. Having a fork put through Tom’s hand would be less painful than this visual and the knowledge that accompanied it. 

“Cucciolo, hey, it’s me” he whispers, sliding the closet door open. Thomas crawls forward into Damiano’s nest, placing his limbs carefully.

“Tom, don’t -” disturb his nest. Victoria stops herself, as she places the new scent. Something so closely adjacent to Thomas’ that it couldn’t be anyone else.

“Thomas, what the fuck is that?” 

“I really, really need you to not ask questions,” he emphasizes. “Don’t tell anyone, please, I’ll explain later.” What was worse: his hybrid status being revealed or Damiano being hurt? Thomas rubs his back tentatively, getting ready to curl himself around Dami, who shifts and looks up. 

“Caro mio, I’m so sorry. I would give anything for it to have been me,” Thomas confesses. To take on Damiano’s pain so he didn’t have to bear it: there was nothing more appealing. 

“Tommy?” He sits up, reaching towards him, with grabby hands, showing he wants physical touch. One of Thomas’ hands grasps his thigh and goes around his waist. He maneuvers Damiano onto his lap, but the closet is too dark to see his face. Holding him is like a piece falling into place. It's easier to breathe, Thomas can serve and nurture his omega now. Damiano straddles him, back turned to Victoria, and tucks his head against Thomas' neck. Thomas would do anything for him at this moment. Take a bullet, donate an organ he couldn’t live without, give him the last sip of what in the desert, or simply lay down his life in the place of his omega’s.

“I’ve got him, Vic. You can go, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here before.” As Thomas leans forward, Dami uses the opportunity to wrap his legs around him. 

“Are you sure?” He can see the toll today as taken on her. Knowing its weight, she is resistant to dump it entirely on someone else. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” This task should feel insurmountable, but Thomas is grounded by his role in Dami’s life. This was his intended place in the universe right now, to heal and love Damiano.

“This is exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he affirmed, rocking back and forth soothingly. Damiano would communicate when he was ready. Right now, he just needed to be held and made to feel safe. 

“Okay, if you say so.” Victoria got up and collected herself, pacing through the apartment to locate all her belongings. She poked her head in once more, and lowered her tone to a whisper. 

“How are you so calm?” she hissed, looking genuinely mystified. The answer to that question was more complex than he could explain in an hour, let alone a single sentence.Thomas kissed Dami’s temple a couple times as he thought.

“This feels more organic and affirming to me than anything else.” Victoria wanted to ask why so badly, but held off. “I’ll try explaining it to you another time. For now, I really need you to not tell anyone.”

“Not even Ethan?” Thomas was deciding how to answer this whan Damiano spoke up.

“No one,” he mumbled. Victoria seemed shocked to hear him verbalize at all, and nodded.

“No one,” she agreed. Thomas waited until she was out the door before scenting Dami. Tom tried to think loving, protective thoughts, not pure rage. That wouldn’t help his omega right now. Still, it was difficult not to let poison seep into his mind, fantasies about dismembering Samuel. Damiano moved his head to the other shoulder, allowing Thomas to scent both sides, who fretted over the idea of knotting. If Damiano asked, he wouldn’t be able to get hard given the situation. 

Thomas’ heightened emotions reminded him of Damiano’s ability to help him regulate. During his last rut, he'd worked himself up into such a cloud of anxiety that he was only half present. Dami’s pheromones responded and quelled Thomas’ panic. Lilac was the smell of tranquility. So, he attempted to do the same for his omega. First he tried to evoke feelings of calm within himself, and when that didn’t work he searched for memories of his calmest moments. Chamomile tea with his mother at eight years old while she read him a story. Laying under his grandfather's piano while he played The Nutcracker.

He checked in with Damiano, who’s breathing was still ragged and who had twisted the fabric of Thomas’ sweater into his fists, hanging on for dear life. What was calming to Damiano? They’d spent their young adult lives not being too close. Their connection couldn’t be too intense or too satiating, or too natural. Otherwise Thomas’ hybrid status could be discovered. 

Collectively, he’d spent hours watching Damiano when he couldn’t explore his feelings. Watched him sing, cry, argue, giggle, sleep, rant, sweat, and cum so hard he shook in Thomas’ arms. He’d watched him brush his teeth, restart his household’s router while cursing, dig through a pile of laundry for a sock, cook elaborate dishes then burn his hand and whine incessantly. He’d watched him wipe jizz from his abdomen, brace for the pain of a tattoo, lose his keys, fight with the clasp of a necklace, and struggle to open his favorite sauce because the seal on the jar was always so tight. 

He came to know Damiano so well that Thomas took him into those fantasies. He and Damiano crawled under the grand piano, lay on their backs and felt the music move in the floor. They climbed out his parents bedroom window and onto the roof, watching the stars and space shuttles blink while smoking weed. They sat on his bed and listened to Spanish guitar tapes until their eyes grew heavy. They took a freezing cold walk on a coastal beach in the middle of winter, frigid wind biting at their cheeks.

Thomas took him into his earliest memory of serenity: a yellow comforter and soft lighting. It could have been a blanket fort or his parents bed, or the bottom of a linen closet. It was abstract, but something as deep in a person's psyche is bound to be. He took Damiano there, where it was warm, insolated, snug, and smelled of lavender drying sheets. Thomas kept him there, right next to his heart. As he held him, Thomas could feel that Damiano’s body had gone quiet, finally soothed.

It wasn’t without effort, however. Emulating calm for Damiano evoked the same mental exhaustion as doing calculus. It took all Thomas’ focus to hold steady, but it was worth it because Dami felt decent enough to scent him back. He started shifting in Thomas’ arms, no longer hunkered down for survival. Damiano sat up, forehead and nose pressed to his alpha’s, whose eyes were screwed shut in concentration.

“I’m okay.” His voice came out broken, Dami hadn’t spoken for hours between the tears. Thomas took this as permission to drop the mirage, and did so with a gasp, like breaking through the surface of water.

“That was so beautiful, thank you,” he cooed, a hand sneaking up the base of Thomas’ skull and into his hair. “How did you do that?”

“I just knew that you needed it, so I did. I’m not really sure where it came from,” he confesses. Even with his face shrouded in shadow, Thomas can see the wonder in Damiano's features. In those same features he searches for the damage that Samuel’s fist caused. Thomas must look sick with guilt, an expression so incongruous with Damiano’s affectionate admiration. Dami’s face falls into a scowl, realizing his former mate is soiling this moment as well.

“Thomas can we please just forget about this? My life isn’t ruined because I got punched one time. Remember how I used to wrestle with other kids when I was younger. I’m fine, I promise.” Damiano seems to actually believe the excuses he placates Thomas with.

“Get into the light,” Thomas orders in a monotone, his mouth clenched into a straight line and pursed in repressed anger.

“What?”

“Let me see you in the light, I want to see your face.” Damiano makes a noise of dissent as Thomas throws open the closet door and partially disentangles himself to reach the light switch. When he turns back to his omega it's very clear that he was hit more than once. Damiano has a swollen cheek, a cut right above his temple, and a bruise on his swollen jaw. He winces, not in pain but in the knowledge of what Thomas is currently looking at.

“Okay, one fight, but I’m still fine. Just ignore the bruises.”

“Ignore the bruises?” Thomas seethes. “You’re lying to me.” He didn’t want to direct any negativity towards Damiano, but out of all the situations he’d anticipated outright denial was not one of them.

“Everything’s fucking fine! I’m not lying to you,” he insists.

“Pull up your shirt,” Thomas deadpans. 

“What does –”

“If everything was fine the security force wouldn’t have shown up. The lock wouldn’t be half torn off the door. Vic wouldn’t have taken you to the hospital. So show me your ribs, now.” 

“I don’t have to prove anything to you!” Damiano shouts, pulling as far away from Thomas as possible while still remaining seated on his lap. 

“I know that, cucciolo! Because this is my fault, I did this!”

“Thomas, in what world –”

“You flinched, okay? You flinched that first morning when we were mating on the bedroom floor. And afterwards you didn’t seem to remember so a part of me didn’t want to deal with it because I couldn’t fathom existing in a world where you were anything less than cherished. It’s not a fight, Damiano, it's abuse! I know it happened more than once so if you’re honest with anyone let it be me.” Thomas was out of breath by his last word. The wave of guilt that stifled him settled in the pit of Tom’s stomach. This was not how he wanted to deal with this. He wanted to give a perfectly calibrated and reassuring reaction, where he held complete control over his emotions. Instead, he’s trying not to cry.

“Damiano, please forgive me,” he begs. 

“You won't get it, because,” he sighs, not in anger, but in trepidation. “Because you’re not like the – because you’re a hybrid. You don’t have normal, or, I mean typical heats with alphas. You don’t understand how much control hormones have. Most omegas get roughed up once or twice in the course of their lifetimes while mating. It happens, because occasionally, certain alphas take things too far, use omegan biology to twist shit up.” Thomas thinks back to Victoria’s original reaction to finding Damiano and the language she used. 

“This can’t be normal,” he insists, pulling Damiano closer. He scoots up on Thomas’ lap so their abdomens are pressed together, but avoids eye contact.

“This was the first time outside of heat that Samuel’s…this. He had an unfair advantage, hormonally. He’s supposed to go into rut pretty soon. And obviously I…” just went through an early heat with you. Damiano trails off, picking at his black nail polish, almost timid. 

“So he roughed you up,” Thomas winces at his use of language, but outright calling it abuse may be too intimidating for Damiano right now. “When you were both hormonal?” Dami almost nods, but not quite.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be pushing the issue. We don’t have to talk about it right now, cucciolo.”

“You have to promise to still like me after I tell you this.” The pain in Damiano’s face is tenfold of what Thomas has encountered before. What could he say that would nullify Thomas’ affection so immediately? It wasn’t possible.

“Cucciolo, after all these years, you have to know that I could never just –”

“Promise me,” Damiano insists. At a loss, Thomas simply agrees.

“Okay, I promise.” Now that Damiano finally has permission to say whatever he needs to, the words catch in his throat. Perfect, peaceful Thomas would never see him the same again. How could he sacrifice that so casually?

“I – I, um,” he sighs in hesitation. Damiano hugs Thomas tightly, pressing his face into Tom’s neck as he speaks, too scared to meet his eyes. Without question, Tom holds Dami back, a soothing hand stroking his skin. His omega winced, feeling undeserving of such tenderness. 

“We would fight, sometimes. Physically, I mean.” 

“When you were both hormonal?” Dami nods his head. Seeking to understand, Thomas pulls back so he can read his omega’s face.

“The first time, I – god this is so fucked up,” he whimpers, hiding his trembling mouth behind a trembling hand. “The very first time, part of me liked it, the intensity. I never told him, but I thought Sam could sense it, which is why he did it again the next month.”

“So he’s been abusing you for a while?”

“It doesn’t really count though, because I started fighting back. Plus it wasn’t enough to leave a mark. I mean, until now. He’s never been this rough before.” Thomas nodded, and watching him attempt to process the information was more painful than the rest of it to Damiano. Sweet, non-violent Thomas, realizing he was with the type of person that answered aggression with aggression, instead of terminating the relationship altogether. 

“Did you ever ask him not to, um –”

“Well, yeah of course. I didn’t just let him walk all over me, but maybe that would have been better. If I wasn’t going to leave at least I shouldn’t have stooped to his level.” Maybe then I’d still deserve you. That was the thought that always echoed in Dami’s mind: what would Thomas think of this? Would Thomas still desire his omega if he knew what kind of person Damiano was? 

“How the fuck would not defending yourself be better?” 

“I should have just left.”

“And there shouldn’t be institutionalized power dynamics between alphas and omegas that are practiced in our society above all reason. There shouldn’t be a biological advantage that trumps all personal autonomy.” There's a fierceness in Thomas’ eyes that Damiano expected, but didn’t anticipate being directed elsewhere. 

“So you don’t think I’m a monster?” 

“What the fuck!?” Thomas answers, in genuine shock. Damiano bursts into tears and catapults himself back into his alpha’s arms, far more relieved than he is saddened. It became immediately apparent that this is what Dami needed, to ugly sob in Tom’s embrace until the impulse passed.

“Caro mio, I would never judge you for this. I can appreciate the complexity of the situation. cucciolo,” he pledges. Damiano tries to take a breath, but it gets caught in his throat.

“I didn’t want you to think I was,” sob “like, into violence, or” sob “or something.” Sob. “Because you’re – you’re” sob.  

“Amore, we’ve had sex before. Samuel isn’t the only one that knows what turns you on.” From the way his breathing pauses, it seems to be the first time Damiano has considered this. “In fact, I’d like to argue that I’m far more qualified to pass judgment on your sexuality and general character. Seeing as we’ve been hooking up since I was 16, and friends a year beforehand.” Thomas tries to coax Dami from where his face is pressed into his mate’s neck to no avail. He’s determined not to budge from his safe place, and clings incessantly. 

“Caro mio, I think you’ve internalized a lot of bullshit from Sam because he was your mate.” Dami doesn’t respond, his mind too muddled by manipulation and ego to decipher its thoughts. “For example, we’ve been intimate for twice as long as you’ve known Samuel, but you’re so fearful that I’ll spontaneously share his views that you’re shaking. Bello, please stop shaking,” he pleads, voice pained. 

Thomas never expected to see Damiano so broken down and gaslighted by another person. His strength seemed unmatched, but no one was immune to the societal repercussions, mental programming, and pheromonal manipulation that resulted from being born omega. In at least that aspect, Thomas’ hybridism had spared him. 

“I don’t think you’re a violent person. There’s no evidence to support it. We both know your tendency to be mouthy has nothing to do with a desire to hurt me.”

“Of fucking course not,” Damino bites, punctuating his words with a pathetic sniffle.

“Mhm,” Tom agrees, soothingly. “I think you can be highly defensive and occasionally combative. However, I also know you’re self aware and this doesn’t come as a surprise to you.” Dami nodded his head, kissing Thomas’ scent gland, trying to gently elicit some light excretions that he could lap up with his tongue for comfort. The sensation startled Thomas and he jumped.

“Sorry,” Damiano muttered, adjusting his arms to make his hold more comfortable and less desperate. Secretly, Tom loved that his mate looked to his body for comfort. If the consequences hadn’t been negative for Dami, he also would have loved the fact that he rid his shared apartment of all other pheromones. It indicated an extremely intense attraction that Thomas could grow to share. Of course, he was still ignorant to the extent of Damiano’s emotions, for his own protection. 

“I know you’re right,” he suddenly confided. “You just get so wrapped up in it and everyone sort of says it's normal. It’s really hard to separate.”

“Can you name a single time you’ve been violent towards me? In any way?” Damiano takes a deep breath and considers for only a moment before decisively shaking his head.

“Mm-mm.” 

“Exactly, I’d even venture that you’ve most agreeable around me.”

“Well you’re really easy to get along with,” he confesses.

“Actually we’re just really compatible.” Damiano likes his comment so very much. He smiles wide, even nips at his alpha’s scent gland. He’d had so many fantasies about sharing a moment like this with Tom, yeared for it painfully for the last six years. Now that it was here, he struggled, but was forced to admit to himself that every alpha up until now was a placeholder. Damiano knew he couldn’t have Thomas, because it wasn’t safe, and he would never endanger him like that. In fact, he cared for Thomas so deeply that when the urge surfaced he was awash in self loathing. What triumphed was a primal need to protect and shelter him, because he was made vulnerable by Dami’s knowledge.

“So now that we’ve established that nothing Samuel says can be trusted because he’s obviously a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, I agree on that one.” Damiano is picking at his nail polish again instead of meeting Thomas' eyes. He feels suddenly foolish, having built up this confession in his head to something catastrophic, but Thomas is holding him the same way he was 10 minutes ago. There’s a special kind of nausea that settles in the stomach of a person when they realize they’ve been manipulated. Damiano had fancied himself too smart to be the victim of Samuel’s mind games. Yet, his entire world view was warped and his perception of his relationships poisoned.

“I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met.”

“I was so sure that you’d reject me. I don’t know how he got in my head like that, we didn’t even talk about you that much,” Damiano marveled, rubbing his face roughly. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much clarity he wanted to seek. Yet the knee-jerk reaction every time Damiano opened his mouth was to question if Thomas would want him after he spoke. What was there even to say that would be so divisive? Damiano knew that it was irrational, yet the fear was so deeply ingrained that it overpowered logic.

Damiano had craved being Thomas’ boyfriend and mate for so long. To go through heat with Thomas, to have Thomas run to his side, speak his defense. They’d finally agreed that their relationship was inevitable. There was no point in resisting and making themselves miserable. Now, Damiano was free from prior obligations, he was in his chosen alpha’s arms, cherished by Thomas. And yet, part of him yearned for how things used to be, despite the past having no merits. Part of truly having Thomas was the ability to truly lose him. 

When all previous relationships and partnerships had ended, he would cry over connection or even the love that was lost. Then Dami would go to Thomas’ to mourn, drink, receive comfort, eat, laugh, fuck, and cuddle. He’d mate with Thomas during his next rut, which essentially felt like pressing the reset button. If things with Thomas ended, he could lose him, and maybe even their shared friends. Damiano wasn’t a reflective person, but he was sure he wouldn’t survive that. There was nothing to survive for, an emotion so intense that he feared verbalizing it would spook Tom.

“Cucciolo look at me.” He hooked a finger under Dami’s chin, coaxing him to raise his gaze. “The most effective thing an abuser can do is isolate. It’s hard to leave someone if you feel they’re all you have. I’m going to keep reminding you that you have me and you will always have me, no matter what.”

“I know that,” Damiano answers automatically. Tom is silent for a moment, observative.

“Damia, I don’t think you do,” he says slowly, tone cautious. “If you were to become a monster right now, I would devote years trying to get you back, just based on who you’ve been in my life so far. You are endlessly lovable to me.” Endlessly lovable. No one had ever called him that, not dotting romantic prospects with the gift of language, not his wonderful parents. It was more powerful than saying you can do no wrong. Endlessly lovable means you can do wrong, but I will still want you always. 

“If you ever have a question, just ask, caro mio. Deconstructing shit like this takes time.” He tucks Dami’s hair behind his ears. After weeks of not cutting it, the length was nearing his shoulders, and that's what Tom tried to focus on, not the swelling and discoloration. 

“Hopefully not too much time. I didn’t even like the fucker that much,” Dami muttered darkly. Unsure of how to segway, Thomas takes a deep breath and keeps talking.

“I think we also need to face the reality that Samuel suspected, which means others probably do as well. Maybe we’re not as sneaky as we thought.” Thomas tries to say the words lightly, to cloak his panic at being outed.

“I swear to you, I didn’t say anything we didn’t agree on. I promise I am so careful, Tommy. I tried to never mention you, I –”

“I know.” Damiano speaks with such desperate intensity, but Thomas needs no additional affirmations. “But Samuel wouldn’t have spent so long turning you against a casual hookup, would he? He also failed pretty epically.” Dami looks down at the mess of intertwined limbs sat on their dirty sheets and snorts a laugh, then keeps laughing. Not because it's particularly funny, but because it feels good not to be crying. It feels even better to be wrapped around his mate in the middle of his nest and to have some body awareness returning.  

“I’m sorry,” he chortles, “I’m like half lucid right now.” Nothing could compel Thomas to laugh, but seeing a break in the tension at least prompts a genuine smile. It only sort of looked like a grimace. 

“What were the doctor's directions?”

“Rest, ice, disinfectant twice daily. I can pick up some of that Tachyangiogenisis ointment from the pharmacy if I want to speed it up.” 

“What about referrals?”

“For what?” 

“Domestic abuse recovery?” Damiano huffs in aggravation. “I work in the alternative pediatric psychiatric therapies, but I’m sure that I could help you find someone –”

“I don’t need anyone in APPT, Thomas. Hitting a couple keys on a piano isn’t going to change what happened.” Thomas continues on, unaffected, as though Damiano hadn’t just insulted his entire field of treatment.

“I’m sure I could help you find someone in an appropriate medical sector if it feels too overwhelming right now,” he finished. “Sensory overwhelm is a totally normal reaction and I want to help in every capacity I can.” Damiano sighs and bites his cheek in shame.

“That was a really dickish thing to say, Thomas. I didn’t mean it at all.”

“I know.” Children who lacked verbal ability due to developmental variation or lacked the language to describe a traumatic situation were often Thomas’ clients. Piano, usually, but often other instruments, allowed them to describe their emotions in a detailed, precise fashion, where there was no external pressure. What made the session therapeutic was largely Tom’s patience and unequivocal kindness. He was born with a wonderful temperament, and just his two syllable response was a reminder of this. Damiano loathed himself for lashing out.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean it! I don’t think that at all. I really don’t, you’re so perfect for your job and all those families are lucky to have you.”

“Dami –”

“I mean you devote your life to helping people, what's more admirable than that? And I know the science is sound, I do. I’m not some uneducated skeptic that shits on people of better character and moral fiber. I’m not. I’m fucking not! I’m just really, really sorry –”

“Shh, it's okay.” Damiano has Thomas’ shirt gripped in handfuls of fabric again, pulling it taut to bring Tom close in this moment of desperation. His eyes are panicked and their foreheads are pressed together. 

“I’m sorry and I’ll go to therapy if you think it’s right. I trust you.” Dami looks into Tom’s eyes and sees such softness. He rocks back and forth, shushing him, and running a hand slowly up and down his back, such a juxtaposition to Damiano’s thundering heart rate. 

“I don’t know why I said that or why I can’t just shut up.”

“Because you’re totally deregulated and need the help of your mate to stabilize.” Damiano falls against him once again. When he sucks on Thomas’ scent gland, Tom lets him. He tries not to flinch from sensitivity. Having gone practically untouched here his whole life, the sensation took some adapting to. 

“I’m here, cucciolo. Give me the reins for a couple days.” Dami nodded, his nervous system finally taking a step below absolute terror survival mode. 

“You need to eat and sleep.”

“Not here. There will be an officer outside the building until they’ve arrested him, but I hate the smell.” The word is spoken with intense disgust. “Can’t we just go to your apartment?” Where everything will smell perfect and I’ll be surrounded by impeccable nesting materials.

“If Samuel’s figured it out, and remembers where I live, my place isn’t safe either.”

“Vic’s?” 

“No. I’ll call my mom,” he sighs. Dami moves off his lap so Thomas can get his phone from his pants.

“I can’t compromise her safety too! I’ve already put you in danger,” he sniffles, face distressed.

“You are not doing anything. My mother put herself in danger 21 plus years ago when she decided not to treat my Primary Gender Dysmorphia. She has spent my life making me internalize that fact. So no, you are doing nothing.” It was only then that Damiano understood the strength of not only his mate, but his blood line. Thomas had grown up knowing that someday his identity would be discovered, and he would be persecuted, but he lived anyway. His mother, a woman only a few years older than Damiano was now, willingly put the rest of her life in danger to preserve her child's autonomy. She made her entire life into an act of protest. There is no strength like being a warrior with unconditional, soul-deep kindness in place of a bloodied sword. With no shield, only the best of intentions and a gentle hand. The only thing more difficult than being hardened, is to be soft, strengthen unchanged.

“Hey, mom, Yeah, I’m good, I was just wondering if I could come pick a couple things up? Yeah I left my blue sweater there last time and I need two pairs of socks. Mhm, okay, yeah we’ll stay for dinner. Love you, bye.” Immediately Thomas turns to Damiano. “I need you to wear a blue sweater under your clothes for my mother’s sake.”

“Yeah, of course!” he enthusiastically agreed, happy to be able to do something. “But, um, why?”

“Because I’ll carry it on the way back. If I get detained it won’t look like we were using code.” 

“Nothing is going to happen to you!” he cries out.

“We don’t know how much Samuels pierced together, or how much he’ll say when they find him. Damiano you need to know something.” He cups his omega’s face between his large hands and holds Dami’s gaze with a burning intensity. “No matter what happens, I chose this. The consequences are worth it. It is not your fault.”

“This can’t be happening,” he whimpers, eyes welling up again. This is my life. To someone who’d lived in normalcy, the amount of risk involved in just existing semi-authentically for Thomas was totally overwhelming. He searched for the right words, and found nothing but a whirlpool of panic in his mind. So instead of speaking, he kisses Damiano, just a brush of lips, then up the bridge of his nose to his forehead. For a minute they just breath each other in, synching each inhale and exhale.

“It’s time to go.”

Notes: I rarely write stuff this heavy, which is why I originally was only going to post The Hybrid on AO3 since that place is a cesspool (affectionate). But having different fics on different platforms felt ridiculous so here it is. Message me to be removed from this fics taglist.

-XOXO Eden

taglist: @blackberryblossom @bobfood @butkutee @bohemianrainbow @cuzimitaliano @daisy0gf @elvirabelle @gr8rainbowpunk @harryssshouseee @hiraetheral @iamtashaquinn @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @kammerstx @l0standn0tf0und @little-moonbeam-666 @lizzylynch1 @maneslut @minnietmouse @mortyandem @obiw4n @que--sera--sera @slavicgoddess13 @stardustingold @teenyweenynightghost @thegeminisgirl @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia @bieberhoodforever

@ursulalurks bestie I do not know wtf is going on, but I still can't tag you. All I can recommend is contacting Tumblr Help, sorry. <3

[mshalfemptygirl]

GUYYYYYYSSSSSSSS  🤯 🤯 🤯 I GONNA SEE MÅNESKIN ON NOVEMBER 3RD AAAAAAAAAAAA OMG I CAN’T BELIVE THAT I GONNA SEE THEM AND ALSO SING THE SONGS IT’S FEELS LIKE A DREAM IM SO READY FOR RUSH WORLD TOUR  💞 💞 💞  THEY ARE SO HOT IM DYING  🥵 🥵 🥵