Home Is A House and A Feeling

Gio's house felt like Gio, like he had been living in the place so long pieces of his soul had seeped into its very foundation. All along she'd had this fantasy where Gio was secretly an android. Made to run a club, be a don, have mind blowing sex with her that sent her into oblivion and then at the end of the day he powered down and plugged himself in. Recharging his batteries and reactivating after a few hours ready to rinse and repeat.

But Gio had an actual place, a nice place. Wood flooring, gleaming in the light, a stone fireplace, unlit but looking like it would bathe the whole room in warm light if it were. The furniture all soft colours and even softer material. She spun around the room, picking up a cushion and sighing at how soft it was. There was a wall that looked to be made completely of books, and looking through one door she could make out a kitchen. Upstairs was obviously where the rooms were, and she was certain if she walked through the kitchen the back door would open to gigantic yard. It was nothing like the tiny little apartment she lived in. Where her place had become just a place to sleep after her parents died, Gio's place felt like an actual well loved home.

"Satisfied?" He asked, arms crossed, standing a few steps behind her. Instead of a verbal answer, she nodded. She had been having trouble making sounds ever since she'd stopped screaming. The one other time she remembered that happening had been the day her parents died. Something about shock just made her voice get lodged in her throat and refuse to come out.

But Gio did not seem to mind. They had yet to bring up what had happened, but he was behaving out of character too. He had kept a hand on her knee the entire drive to his house. And even as she was looking around, he had stayed close, his breath sometimes ghosting over her back. It should have been unsettling, but Elle found it reassuring.

He held out his hand and she slipped hers into it. Letting him lead her upstairs. They walked into what was clearly his bedroom, and right past his bed, which was so big she was tempted to jump on it and see if she would disappear. 

He led her into his bathroom, and once there, his need for touch did not lessen. He took her clothes off for her. Slowly guiding her dress down her body, hands skimming over her skin. Feeling her up from shoulder to ankle. She stepped out of the dress and Gio threw it in the laundry basket. Not getting up from where he was crouched he took off her shoes, and put them away.

When he began to undress, she moved towards him. Her hands following his. Tracing skin where there was no longer any fabric. By the time he had shrugged off all his clothes, he was half hard, but neither of them did anything about. They simply walked into the shower.

Beneath the warm spray their exploration continued. He soaped her up, she scrubbed him. His big hands on her breasts, hers on his chest. 

They did each other's fronts, silent as can be. Then he turned her, hands against the tiled walls, legs spread and cleaned her back. Slow as can be, feeling her up and down. Desire pooled in her gut, but it was a background hum, easy to ignore. The most important thing was the feel of him, close, alive, well. All the things that had nearly not been true anymore.

When it came her turn to wash him she took her time. Careful of his bruised and tender skin. Moving down his body with a purpose.

By now he was fully hard, but when she gripped him lightly, looking up at him with a question in his eyes, he shook his head.

Like her, he was looking for the comfort of touch, not release. So she ignored his shaft and kept working. Feeling the ripple of muscle beneath her hands and enjoying the content sighs he was making. 

They dried off without a word. Their trek to the bed consisting of him walking right behind her, hands on her waist. Leading her to the bed.

They slipped beneath the sheets, both still completely naked. The moment she was settled he pulled her close, a leg thrown over hers. Making her feel his hard-on. Burrowing closer, she pressed a hand against his chest. Mirroring where his hand was next to her left breast.

Both of them feeling the gentle vibrations of each other's hearts. The gentle thrum of their heartbeats moving through each other's hands.

In all their years of having sex, this somehow felt more intimate. It spoke of things Elle did not want to look too close into. Things like maybe she was not the only one who cared. Maybe he liked her the same way she liked him. Instead of seeing her as just a convenient form of release.

But most likely, it was just the shock. Come morning, they would be back to what they had always been.

A mafia don and a pole dancer at his club. Friends with benefits, no feelings involved.

Shutting the thoughts away she focused on the feel of Gio, his freshly showered scent, and the way he was looking at her like she might vanish at any moment.

She held his gaze, she too not willing to risk the chance that he might vanish from her sight. Her eyes blinking over and over again until they shut, and stayed closed. Her breathing evening out.

She was not awake to witness Gio planting a chaste kiss on her forehead. A trembling hand settling over her cheek before he settled against the covers, eyes wide open. He held her the way one would a person he loved more than anything in the whole wide world.