⸸ Ghost Writer ⸸

The command was plain. Within seconds, you were spasming around Copia’s cock.  Your walls fluttering around him sent him over his own peak. His own moans were louder than yours, a chorus of lust and worship of sin. Copia stilled as warmth flooded your core. 

The rosy-tinted afterglow kept you feeling warm and gooey. You flopped into his side. A comfortable silence accompanied the comedown.

Finally, you spoke. “What does it mean?” 

Your fingers idly brushed through the whorls of hair covering his pecs.

Cardi’s hand covered yours and he smacked a kiss to your forehead. “What does what mean, baby?” 

“‘T’amu acusi tagnu, angilo mio.’” Your lips shaped the unfamiliar words hesitantly. You nestled in closer against him. “You were saying it when you came. I never get to hear you speak Italian.”

There was a long beat of silence. You glanced up at him. Was he... blushing? 

“Andrea?”

“That one... 'I love you so much, my angel.' You were close, but the pronunciation was off,” he said. Copia met your eyes for a fraction of a second before darting away again. “It’s not Italian, actually.”

“No?”

“No, no. Sicilian,” Copia sounded far away. “I grew up in Catania―east coast of Sicily―until I was a teenager. Italian is common but I always spoke the dialect around le nonne who babysat me. They practically raised me. Heh, I knew a little English from all the records I listened to, though. Then, you know, the Psaltarians married and they moved us to Los Angeles, here. That was that. But I never lost the dialect.”

His face remained expressionless but his eyes gave him away. Melancholy. You knew your Papa. He’d always been a bit of an odd one out, a bit sensitive. It was part of what drew you to him in the first place. You could only imagine how much a sensitive kid like him would have struggled moving to a strange ministry, in a strange country, speaking a strange language.

You pressed a kiss to his collarbone; Copia turned on his side so you were forehead to forehead. Your voice hushed. “Do you miss Italy?”

He made a noncommittal sound. Instinctively, you echoed him. He cracked a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I visit sometimes. During the last tour, we had an extra day before we had to leave for Nice. Rented a Maserati with the ministry’s black card. Drove down to Etna. Hopped a ferry. Ate so many cannoli di pistacchio that I got a stomach ache all night. Good times!”

“Andrea,” you furrowed your brow. “Cannoli? You’re lactose intolerant.”

“And? It’s pistacchio, ciccina. You know how I feel about pistachio.” The dramatic sweep in his voice made you giggle. His eyes softened.

Despite his jokes, there remained something small and sad in his gaze. Your mind was working a mile a minute.

“What if we take a vacation to Sicily this summer? For your birthday? We can make all the stops you want,” you said. You rubbed his back. Long lines puckered his skin from how you scratched at him just minutes earlier. 

Even before you finished, Copia was murmuring his no’s. Your heart sank.

“It won’t work.” His voice was heavy. “I am Papa now. Between the upcoming summer solstice ritual, practicing for next month’s music festival, and taming our new ghouls, I just won’t have time.”

Your eyes pleaded. You kissed his jaw, trying to tempt him into indulgence. “And as Papa, you’re responsible for being a figure of sin. Come on, a little Sloth will inspire the congregation. And you deserve a break, anyway.”

“Someday, ciccina,” Copia pulled you tighter so your head buried into his neck. You knew he didn’t want you to see his eyes. 

Staring into the wall, all he could see were the memories of his childhood. A lonely little boy playing in the foothills of Mt. Etna, ignorant of the darkening sky. The smoothed stones of the pebble beaches pressing uncomfortably into his sandals as he wandered the shoreline dragging a big stick. The blinding lights and boisterous sounds of carnival driving him away towards refuge, into still alleyways filled with vermin. A lonely little boy, indeed. 

“Someday.”

Copia was good at putting up a front but his sadness always bled through into his words. He missed his homeland. In the weeks following that conversation, the topic never left your mind for long, even when you were on duty.

The ominous, twisting forest behind the Ministry is supposedly haunted. Even under a full moon, a regular sibling could never see through the wall of fog that perpetually lay over the grounds. Strange howls of unknowable origin wailed in the night. Even for a satanic ministry, the siblings found themselves unsettled by its uncomfortable aura. So naturally, it was a favorite place of clergy, ghouls, and siblings alike to fuck. 

Tonight, no brave ne’erdowells were to be found defiling innocent firs or conveniently flat boulders. You plunged through the fog, only carrying your pack and a cooler.  Though you never felt fully safe in the forest, you didn’t bother with a lantern tonight. Your far-away mind pulled your feet down the dirt pathway with familiar ease. Dirt crunched underneath your boots. Branches snapped further within the pea soup fog.

How were you supposed to help Copia when he refused to be helped? If a vacation was out, maybe a staycation would help him feel more at home? A visit to the sandy LA beaches might not be a bad idea... How different could Italian and Californian beaches be anyway?

A growl ripped through your daydreams. The hairs on your neck prickled. Before you yawned the gaping mouth of a pitch black cave. You were here. And so was He.

There was only a moment’s notice before a heavy but lithe figure tackled you to the ground. You grunted with shock. The attacker's weight pressed you deeper into the earth as it began to... lick your face?

“Pet, get off me,” you pushed back his shoulders as Pet slobbered your cheek with his undulating tongue. He barely budged; chittering whines revealed his delight at your presence. “Pet.”

One good shove made him lean back on his haunches. The dirt-covered face of your ward stared back at you with a gleaming grin of too many teeth. 

All you knew him by was Pet. That was what the clergy called him. It suited his bestial nature, you had to admit. They never gave you many details as to why a semi-human, semi-creature resided in the backwoods behind the ministry, preying on lost hitchhikers and small mammals to survive. They never gave you details as to why he needed caretaking. All you knew was: besides your other responsibilities, keep Pet safe. So every night past sundown, you trekked through the innards of the creepy forest, towards your Pet. Feed him (usually the frozen meat of small mammals) if he was hungry, provide water (he preferred blood but sparkling mountain stream water was an acceptable substitute), and keep him generally presentable for when he’s... needed. Whatever that means. 

When Sister Imperator assigned you to your new role, she gave you one other instruction―one you didn’t quite like. Under no circumstances ever tell your Papa about Pet. After so many months, Copia had stopped questioning your regular disappearances after sundown.

Before you, Pet trilled. “Food?”

“Dude. You’re hungry?” you asked skeptically. His clothes were covered in the rusty stains and dried residue of last night’s dinner. At least a deer. Or worse. It should have been enough to keep him full for a few days.

“Always hungry, always hungry.” He crawled to the cooler you’d dragged with you, knowing his favorite furry snack hid inside. Deft claws popped the latch. Pet was practically drooling.

You averted your eyes as he dug into the frozen raccoon meat. The harsh scarfing sounds painted a mental picture you didn’t need to see as he polished it off.

Barely had he finished his last gulp before he was tossing through the cooler. Water bottles were shoved aside. Your own protein bars were untouched. 

He turned to you in disappointment. “No dessert?”

“I don’t think you need ghoulette-fingers tonight, buddy,” you hauled yourself up. 

Pet sank and flopped to the ground. A long suffering sigh dragged itself out of his chest. Truly, Satan’s strongest soldier.

If Pet’s body didn’t betray his inhuman nature―long gangly limbs with sharp bones almost pressing through his skin, a mouth full of razor sharp teeth, delicate claws that could rip through flesh like tissue paper― it was his intonation when he spoke. It warbled and stilted, flowed and stumbled in a way that never felt quite natural―to him or you. As if the words never fit in his mouth. It took less time than you would have thought to stop thinking of it as eerie, moreso just as... Pet.

Over the next hour, the two of you went through your daily motions. He took you back into his nest within the yawning cave to show you the leftover deer carcass from last night (good job! you had said whilst suppressing a gag); you managed to get him hydrated and changed into cleaner clothes (not that he cared whatsoever about what he wore but you didn’t want his skin to get irritated); and most importantly... tea time.

“And then,” you grumbled as you ran your fingers through Pet’s greasy curls, “Sister Imperator said Papa III’s ghouls should be dismissed. Dismissed, Pet! Back to hell!”

“That bitch,” he agreed sagely. He was faced away from you now, while you worked on his hair. You knew he didn’t truly understand why you were so heated.

“I know!” Your hands worked mindlessly, rubbing in shampoo. “It’s just like, they’ve given so many years of service to our ministry, and everybody knows how dedicated they still are to Papa III. I can’t believe she would say something so callous.”

“I can kill her? Want, yes?” Pet chirped.

You sighed. “No, but I appreciate the offer. I think Andrea is working it out with her. ...But I’ll let you know if we need you. Now, dunk.”

Pet held his breath as he sank underneath the water in the shallow pond within his cave. When he exploded back up, he shook himself thoroughly to dry off. Your face went flat. Good thing you brought a change of clothes; the soaked cotton clung heavy to your skin. “Dude.”

You went to work rinsing the shampoo out completely.

“How is he?” Pet said after a short silence.

“He?”

“Andrea. Copia.” His pale eye met yours as he turned. Pet’s eyes always made you shiver if you looked at them for too long. They looked just like Copia’s. Same shape. Same irises. The left was more unsettling however, a little more hollow. Was it because of his curse?

You chewed your cheek as you started working in the conditioner. Your worries earlier came flooding back. 

“I think he misses his home, back in Italy. He’ll never admit it but I can tell. He misses the language, the people. I even suggested a vacation, but no dice. Lately, he’s been speaking more Sicilian. ‘U’ me amuri. Ciatu miu.’ 

“Impara u sicilianu pi iddu. Jè facili.” 

*Learn Sicilian for him. It’s easy.

You froze. “What?”

“Impara a parrari u sicilianu.” 

*Learn to speak Sicilian.

“You speak Italian?” you said incredulously. Your hands drop, frothy conditioner pushed to the wayside. You can’t focus with this bombshell in your lap.

“E u sicilianu! Sempri, si.”

*And Sicilian! Always, yes.

Pet fully turned around to face you. His many teeth contorted his face uncomfortably as he grinned.

You sputtered. “English, please. I don’t speak Sicilian. Italian. Er, either of them. How long have― no. Why didn’t you e― no. What?”

He cocked his head playfully. “Not a secret. You never asked.”

With a groan, you rubbed your face. Something weird was happening and you didn’t want to think about what it implied. The creature in the forest looks like your partner, speaks the same language as your partner, cannot be mentioned to your partner... Whatever. Whatever. Midnight is not the time to think about it.

Pet trilled. “I said. Learn Sicilian. Will make Andrea happy. I know.”

“You know?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“I know,” he said confidently. 

“How do you know?” 

He thought about it for a second. “I... don’t know.”

You groaned and flopped on your back. Your eyes were clamped shut. Pet’s wash night was totally forgotten. “I’m not paid enough for this job.”

There was silence for a moment. Then a warbling voice chittered. “Will make him happy.”

You lolled your head to look at Pet. The sight struck you. Naked and covered in soap, eyes hopeful, looking rather small for a second. Which him did he mean, though?

Your smile was fragile. “How am I supposed to learn? Not like Duolingo has a dialect option, Pet.”

“Nicola,” he said.

You blinked. “Nicola?”

“My name?” He looked taken aback by himself. After a moment to ponder it, he nodded resolutely. “Yes. My name.”

“Did you forget it?” You asked, quirking a brow.

“Yes,” Pet repeated. He cocked his head. “My name.”

You weren’t sure how to process this new information. Your mouth crinkled in thought. Not only could Pet ― Nicola? ― speak Sicilian out of the blue, it seemed to have knocked something loose in his memory. How powerful was this connection to make him remember his old name after all this time cursed and locked up on the grounds? You’d never asked how long he had been here, actually... There was something big happening here, and you had no idea what. But your friend was at the center of it.

Sucking in a breath, you stood. You came up around behind him, taking in his sudsy curls. You still had a job to do, and a friend to take care of. As you rinsed him off, you ruminated. “Well, Nicola, how do you suggest I learn, then?”

“I teach!” Pet perked up to look at you just in time for you to dump a cup full of water on his face. You giggled at his pout.

“You think you could teach me?”

His maw of razors glimmered. The excitement was brimming out of him. “You come here every night. Extra hour will not be strange. Say I need more help with summer hunt. Teach you sicilianu. Surprise Andrea. Less lonely!”

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst plan. If Copia couldn’t take a break to visit his homeland, surprising him with Sicilian could at least be a comfort to him. Having only ascended a few months ago, you knew that his responsibilities were still new and draining―not that he would admit it. A surprise would cheer him up. 

“I’m in,” you declared. A happy rumbling sound erupted from Pet’s throat and you hugged him tight. “Let’s start tomorrow. I just have one question, though. P― Nicola, when you said ‘less lonely,’ did you mean Andrea or yourself?”

Caught. He toed the dirt bashfully. With a mirthless laugh he said, “Both?”

For the first time it fully struck you how lonely he must be, all alone in this creepy forest besides the scant hours in which you visited him. How long has he been feeling this way? This was as much for him as it was for your relationship.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Teach me everything you know, Professore.”

“I can’t do this anymore, Aether! I think it’s over.” Copia collapsed into the chest of his loyalest ghoul. Aether’s pecs were the perfect pillow to dry Copia’s tears as his chest heaved.

Aether took it stoically. Might as well let him get it out. “What’s over, C?”

“It’s ciatu miu―my love. There’s something funny going on, Aether. They’ve been disappearing longer and longer each night. They’re sneaking off in the middle of the day for hours. If I see them on their phone, they jump and close their apps. You know what it all means!” Copia’s lip wobbled and he sunk into Aether’s chest again. He squeezed his favorite ghoul around the middle like his favorite Squishmallow.

“So you think they’re cheating?” Aether surmised. What a strange idea to him. Since the beginning of your relationship, neither of you have been anything except smitten with each other. Even the other day, you had begun telling him about a big surprise you were planning for Copia, something meaningful to take his mind off things. You were oddly cryptic though. Infidelity is indeed a big surprise, he mused. Humans were strange like that.

“Of course! Can’t you see? My ciccina’s heart has been stolen by someone else in the ministry.” Copia deflated. “Aether, how terrible of a partner am I?”

Aether folded his arms. “Now what is that supposed to mean?”

Copia’s emotional support pectorals had been blockaded. He flopped back against the couch, staring hollow-eyed at the ceiling. “I’ve been so busy with rehearsals and arranging rituals, y’know, Papa things, I’ve been neglecting our relationship. That’s why they’re running into the arms of someone else. Someone younger... sexier... probably has a higher score on Lego Star Wars than me. Aether, I think I’ve driven away the only person who’s ever loved me.”

Aether rolled his eyes, or tried to. Men are stupid. Human men are stupid. Well... ghoul men too, actually. “One, that’s not true. The Psaltarians, me and the other ghouls, your friends, the other Papas, Imperator in her own weird, bitchy way ― all love you. Two, you’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, buddy.”

“Buddy?” Copia’s eye twitched. Hold on. He may be having a breakdown but that didn’t mean he didn’t still demand respect.

“Look, the only way to know for sure what’s up with them is to just talk to them. You’ll drive yourself crazy the more you think about it, and you know it.” 

Aether spoke plainly and Copia had to admit he was probably right. He shifted in discomfort just thinking about confrontation. It might be a necessary evil, though. Despite his dramatics, Copia truly couldn’t take much more of this. Every time you disappeared to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what with who-knows-who, it felt like a knife in his chest. Your distance had been growing for over a month now. It felt like an eternity. He wasn’t sure when he first realized something had shifted but since he had, it had been driving him crazy. It was the way you had begun being secretive over your phone, and always writing something in a notebook you wouldn’t let him see. The way you would rush in late for the date nights you did keep, hair dishevelled and clothes covered in pine needles. Everytime, Copia’s mind flooded with torturous images of you and a mysterious stranger, having a quick fuck on the forest floor. That should have been his quick fuck! Some junior sibling could never make you come as hard as he could and he knew it. 

Copia’s brow wrinkled. Wait a minute. He was Papa. He wasn’t going to accept disrespect from anybody, and he sure as shit wouldn’t allow some stranger to take what was his. He had the authority here. This was his ministry. If someone wanted to steal his partner, they were going to have to answer to the ghoul pits. And him, of course. But the ghoul pits could handle the messy work.

As for you...

Copia jerked upright. He slapped his palm with a tight fist. 

“You’re right, Aether!” 

“Yeah.”

“The only way to win them over again is to fight for them!”

“That is not what I said.”

“No, no! I see it now.” An evil light shone in Copia’s eye. “A competition of strength and virility. Once they see that rat compared with their Papa, they’ll remember how much they love me and they’ll come running back. That’s a great idea, Aether! Now, how do I find this- this lothario―”

Before Copia could get carried away with his stupid idea, Aether clasped a tight hand on his shoulder. Copia froze. 

Aether leaned in. Through the darkened glass of his goggles, Copia could see right into the sunken hollow sockets that once held Aether’s eyes. Like black holes, they sucked him in―as if he was staring into the gates of hell, straight into the Pit, where no light or hope ever shone. A petrified cold dumped over Copia. 

His ghoul ignored his shiver. “Go. Talk. To. Your. Partner.”

Without another word, Aether stood and left Copia’s office. 

The silence of the empty room was ringing in Copia’s mind. To nobody, he spoke loudly, as if his own speech could fill the void of where his missing friend just sat. “Yes, well... maybe that’s a good first step. We should talk first. Good idea. Good idea. Heh. Heheh.”

... ”But if that doesn’t work, the ghoul pits are plan B.”

Oh boy. How was Copia going to do this?

With a sigh, you tried to recite some of the phrases Nicola had been teaching you. “T'amu. Tu sii ma stella brillanti. Tutto chiddo ca vocchiu iè fariti felici.”

*I love you. You’re my shining light. All I want is to make you happy.

You groaned. The pronunciation was off but the words were still so new that your tongue wouldn’t shape the vowels correctly.

Even after more than a month of practice, of Pet trying to teach you romantic phrases and basic vocabulary so you could sweep your partner off his feet, the words still felt clumsy in your mouth. You knew a month wasn’t such a long time, so you weren’t exactly going to be waxing Shakespeare yet―and Pet had had his own struggles trying to get the words out, which didn’t make it any easier. Yet, you’d been spending so many hours of your free time trying to write and recite and read as much as you could find. You’d hoped for more progress than this.

Your notebook of vocab and phrases stared at you tauntingly. The words were almost swimming off the page. At this rate, it would take months before you could have a proper conversation with Copia in Sicilian. 

Sinking into your pillows as you mumbled halting phrases to yourself, you didn’t notice your partner walking into your shared bedroom.

Copia cleared his throat; you startled and slammed your notebook shut. Your deer-in-the-headlights eyes shot an arrow through Copia’s heart. He tried not to think the worst of what you could have been reading, but his traitorous mind filled in the blanks―secretive love letters, diary pages crammed with sweet nothings, maybe even your and your mystery infidel’s hyphenated last names? Who knew how deep this affair went!

“Andrea! I didn’t hear you come in,” you fretted. You shoved your notebook under the covers. Too late to hide it, but hopefully he wouldn’t peek inside. 

Copia sat down on the edge of the bed. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Yes, well... apologies. Rehearsal went late.”

“How did it go?”

“Fine. Just fine. We’ll be ready for the music festival soon.”

“That’s great.”

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you knew what to say; something heavy hung in the air. The full moon shone through your window, casting half his face in blue and milky white. The dim lamp on your bedside table warmed the other half. With his paints still on, carving his features to mimic a rat’s skull, your partner looked a perfect mix of menacing and beautiful. Hellish yet angelic. Your heart softened. Remember why you’ve been doing this.

You both spoke in unison. “Can we talk―?”

You froze as you looked at each other; the discomfort thawed. Copia stammered. “Yes, of course, amore. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Wait,” you took his hand. “Before we do anything, take off the paints?”

“The paints?”

“I need to see you for this. The real you.”

Worry shone in Copia’s eyes, but he disappeared into the en suite as you requested. Minutes ticked by as he scrubbed his paints down the drain, along with his self-confidence. As he washed his face, he felt like an anxious, bumbling Cardinal all over again. 

He returned to you barefaced and serious. You pressed down a smile when you saw some leftover white still clinging to his sideburns. With a pat to his side of the bed, you beckoned your partner forward. Copia crawled in next to you. The cotton sheets were 900 count but they still chafed at him. When you took his hands and held them tight, his heart softened even as it broke. Everything except this moment fell away. All that mattered now was you.

“So...” he began. “As you were saying?”

You suck in a deep breath. Might as well cut right to it― “Andrea, I’ve been hiding something from you and I don’t want to keep it in anymore.”

Tears sprung to Copia’s eyes. This was it. The end of it all. “You’re seeing someone else.”

“I― wait, what?” you shook your head. Where did Copia get that from?

“You don’t have to keep it from me, ciccina. I know what’s been going on,” his head hung low, voice filled with despair. “I’ve been terrible lately.”

“Andrea, wha―”

“Aether helped me figure it out. How you’ve been more distant than usual, and hiding things. I haven’t been here for you. You know, I- I’ve canceled date nights; all the midnight rituals have taken up so much of my time. I’ve spent so many nights eating my feelings with Cherry Garcia and Spaceballs instead of being with you. I’ve put my job above our relationship, and I realize now that it’s pushed you away.” 

Copia tried valiantly to avoid crying, but the traitorous tears spilled over. He couldn’t even be strong for you right here and now. His shame was immense. With a small surprised sound, you grabbed a tissue for him; he blew his nose with a loud honk.

You hugged him tight. “Andrea, you haven’t pushed me away. Where did you get this idea?”

“You’ve been disappearing!” he weeped into his tissue. “I know you say you’re just doing your job but it’s never taken this long before. And you hide your phone. I should have expected you’d find someone else if I neglected you. Just Tell me one thing―do they have a higher score on Lego Star Wars than me?”

You ignored his pleading eyes. “No, my love, because this other person is a man who lives in the woods.”

...

The silence stretched thin. The gears ground to a halt in Copia’s head as he tried to logic it out. You patted his hand.

His voice was small. “You’re picking a homeless guy over me?”

You sputtered. “No! Andrea. I’ve been disappearing more because of my job. Look, I’m not allowed to tell you anything, technically, but you should know this anyway. My role isn’t just taking care of the grounds. There’s a creature-man, man-creature, um, guy who lives in the forest.”

“The haunted forest?” Copia squeaked.

“It’s not haunted, it’s just foggy,” you wave a hand. “I take care of him. This guy. He struggles to manage on his own so I visit him and make sure he’s safe. That’s all. I’m not picking him over you, and I’m not in love with him. He’s my friend.”

You softened thinking about Nicola. Over the past month, you’ve watched him blossom under your increased time together. His language was slowly improving, as well as his understanding of human mannerisms. It felt like domesticating a feral cat. He wouldn’t really need you to help take care of himself before long enough, you thought. Even now, when you visit most of your time was spent talking and snacking. Though, he still couldn’t recall anything about his old life before he wound up in the forest, or anything besides his name. There was so much about him that was so mysterious to you.

Copia considered. “Then, if you’re not in love with this... guy―” He tried not to spit out the word. “―then why have you been spending so much extra time with him?”

For the first time that evening, you smiled at him. "PicchÌ ti amu, babbo.” 

*Because I love you, silly.

Copia’s mouth dropped open.

As usual, the words felt clumsy in your mouth but you tried your best. “Vogghiu parrari u sicilianu cu tia. Si statu triste pi misi, Andrea, e se u parru cu tia, non sarai chiu solo. Se nun possiamo iri in Sicilia, dugnu a Sicilia a tia.“ 

*I want to speak Sicilian with you. You are sad for months, Andrea, and if I speak it with you, you won’t be lonely. If we can’t go to Sicily, I give Sicily to you.

“H...how?” Stars were filling Copia’s eyes. He was speechless.

“U mo amico nda foresta insegna u sicilianu a mia. Iddu è ri Catania, comu a tia, amore miu. Ti piacerà.” 

*My friend in the forest teaches Sicilian to me. He is from Catania, like you, my love. You will like him.

“Heh...heheh.” Once Copia started laughing, he couldn’t stop. Another tear slipped from his eye, this time from relief instead of despair. He fell back into the pillows, trying to catch his breath. Valiantly, he managed to push down his laughter.

You blushed. Was your pronunciation that bad? Maybe telling him so early was a bad idea. “Whats so funny?” 

Copia’s head flopped to look at you. The lovestruck look in his eyes made your heart clench. 

He cradled your face in your hands and brought you in for a kiss. In all of your relationship with Andrea, it was the softest kiss you’d ever shared. Against your lips, he whispered. “T'amu accussì tantu.”

*I love you so much.

You buried your face into Copia’s neck as you cuddled close to him. It definitely wasn’t so that he wouldn’t see the bright blush on your face. The words hit differently now that you could understand them.

“I think I... really misunderstood the situation. I’m sorry, ciccina. Forgive me?”

“Always.”

His lips traced your hairline. “Now, tell me more. What else have you learned?”

“Ciatu miu,” you said. Copia hummed in appreciation. “Amuri mio. Significhi tuttu pi mia. A lot of sweet nothings like that.” 

*My breath. My love. You mean the world to me.

Copia kissed your temple. His voice lowered as he murmured into your ear. “Sai, 'n to' tocco basterebbe a sostenermi pi u restu da mo vita. Dimmillu e murirei pi tia, ucciderei pi tia. Tu si a mo vita, u'me respiro, u'me patruni.  Lucifero stissu avissi adorare l'altare du to' corpo e di la to anima.  Ma u'to cori è tuttu miu.  U'to piacìri è tuttu miu. Nessun autru pò averti comu pozzu fari iu.

*You know, one touch of yours would be enough to sustain me the rest of my life. Tell me to and I would die for you, I would kill for you. You are my life, my breath, my master. Lucifer himself should worship at the altar of your body and soul. But your heart is all mine. Your pleasure is all mine. No one else can have you like I can.

“Catch any of that?” Copia smirked.

That tease. You pouted. “A word here or there... It’s harder to understand when you speak so quickly.”

He chuckled. “You’ll learn, baby. It comes with time, and practice.”

As Andrea’s lips travelled down your jawline, you sighed. The air shifted. Your hands traced the firm muscles of his back. They were less defined than they were when he was Cardinal, hidden under softened flesh. Being Papa meant he was encouraged to indulge―not merely allowed. His weight pressed pleasantly against you. 

“Will you practice with me, then?” you said.

“Chiaro,” his teeth traced your pulse point. “Ogni jornu.” 

*Of course. Every day.

Your grasp around him tightened. You gasped as he started sucking a mark into your neck. Teeth nibbling into your sensitive flesh sent goosebumps up your body. His hips pushed against you; already he had a semi. Though, when didn’t he?

“Tell me,” Copia nibbled on the shell of your ear as he started grinding his hips into your thigh. “Your friend didn’t teach you any dirty words, did he?”

“No,” you admitted. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of asking Pet. And yet... “I wouldn’t want to learn those from him, anyway. We’re close but not like that.”

“Good,” Copia said roughly. 

Your hands wandered to his chest as he started guiding you onto your back. You indulged in squeezing handfuls of his plush pecs before you turned the tables. In a moment, you pushed him hard―he flopped prostrate into the pillows. His two-toned eyes widened in surprise. 

You straddled his hips. With a sigh, you ground down onto his twitching semi. Copia choked on a moan. His hands gripped your thighs.

“Ciccina?”

“Like you said, Andrea, I need a lot of practice,” you cocked your head. “Now, you’re going to teach me every dirty word you know. But I’m a hands-on learner, so I’m going to need some thorough demonstrations.”

The dim lamplight reflected in your eyes was reminiscent of hellish flames. Copia felt himself falling in love all over again. His fallen angel, hellsent just for him.

“We have all night,” he murmured.

Over the next few hours, you did indeed learn quite a lot. And you think so did the rest of the east wing suites. By his second orgasm, Copia had forgotten his English, crying out in Sicilian, until he forgot even that by the third. Under the moonlight, Copia passed out with an empty cock, arms full with your body cradled against him, and a fuller heart knowing he’d found his soulmate.

“Ciccina, are you sure this is safe?” Copia fretted as you dragged him down the well-trodden path. “It’s pretty dark tonight, maybe we should come back tomorrow when there’s less clouds.”

“Trust me, tesoro,” you cooed. “It’s only a little further.”

You squeezed his hand in reassurance. Copia gulped, but he squeezed back. He hedged, “I trust you... I think. Hold me closer, though?”

You guided him with ease, arm around his side as you plunged into the mist of the haunted forest. Every branch in the dirt, you nimbly hopped over; Copia tripped on every one. Once, his face thwacked into a prickly pine branch. Unnerved by the silence of the forest, Copia filled it with his voice. He spoke of everything and nothing. You listened intently, chiming in occasionally, but largely you let him cope as he needed. You felt bad for dragging him out here, but he needed this. All three of you needed this.

A growl cut through his monologue, freezing him where he stood. He whimpered. “Ciccina?”

You rubbed his back soothingly. “Just a little further. It’s safe, I promise.”

Barely had you spoken when a figure pounced from out of the mist. Pet’s form was a blur. He shoved Copia down to the ground; your partner screamed and you reeled back. What on earth―?

Your terror that Pet had reverted back to his bestial instincts was short-lived. Copia’s flesh remained intact. With clenched eyes, Copia whimpered, “He’s growling, he’s going to eat me, he’s going to eat me―”

You cut him off as you approached. “Andrea, he’s not eating you, he’s hugging you.”

Indeed, Pet was all but purring as he had Copia in a vice grip of a hug. Copia didn’t notice, still whimpering and close to tears. You grabbed Pet’s shirt collar and hauled him off. He reluctantly slank back. 

It took Copia longer than he was willing to admit to realize he didn’t have the bloodthirsty maw of a monster clamped into his neck. When he opened his eyes and saw you, relief flooded into him. When he found the wide hopeful gaze of the person behind you, he blinked in surprise. Despite this guy’s odd proportions, it was his eyes that struck Copia. Even in the darkness of the night, Copia could see the other’s two-toned irises. It was like looking into a mirror.

You helped Copia to his feet. He coughed, trying to salvage his pride, and dusted himself off. He murmured his thanks. 

The two strangers eyed each other up for a moment. The tension was thicker than any of you were expecting. Something unspoken hung in the air.

Copia had had no idea what to make of this creature-man that’s been living on his grounds for who-knows how long. This person with mysterious origins, who spoke his dialect and shared his eyes. Only his eyes though. It put Copia on edge. 

Pet couldn’t resist the buoyant hope rising inside of him. Something about Copia had intrigued him since the day you first mentioned him all those months ago. He wasn’t sure why. All he knew is that he’d felt an intense connection to this stranger. He’d needed to know more. 

“Introductions.” You broke the silence. The seriousness of your own voice surprised you. You took Pet’s knobbly-fingered hand and pulled him forward. The two strangers were eye-to-eye. “Nicola... this is Andrea.”

Something about the name Nicola sparked something inside Copia.  A recognition he couldn’t quite place. A buzzing hummed under his skin.

“Andrea,” you rubbed Copia’s arm. “Meet Nicola.”