𝖒𝖊𝖑

The afternoon breeze had begun to blow softly around the trees, shaking them as if to drown out the birdsong, but it only ended up accompanying the avian melodies. Spring had arrived, bringing with it tempered heat and the sounds and sights of full nature, green returning after the long winter months that left everything dead and brown. You sat beneath the cover of a willow tree, your favourite on the Ministry grounds because no one ever came there and bothered you. It was beautifully quiet thanks to its location, far enough away that the hustle and bustle of Ministry life couldn’t disturb you. Silent, save for the sounds of the natural world going about its business as you leaned against the trunk of the tree, a book in your hand and your nose buried within it.

Your other hand was gently placed on the rising and falling chest of Secondo, his head resting on your thighs and eyes closed, peacefully sleeping off the full meal of the picnic that you’d taken with you, now entirely devoured and the packages and dishes waiting inside the wicker basket ready to be cleaned, situated only a few metres away from you, and closer to the bank of the river that flowed through the grounds and ended in the sea. Your fingers lightly traced over his bare skin, his white dress shirt opened wide enough for you to have easy access to him, feeling his thick chest hair below their tips. His moustache had a singular grey hair in it that would catch the light sometimes and make his upper lip sparkle.

Though your eyes roamed over the words in your hand, occasionally they’d slip over to his Cardinal painted face, and you’d resist the urge to run those fingers over the same expanse of skin that your eyes had roamed over, fearful of waking him. Instead, you decided to let him sleep, and just bask in the glory of his company. His once thick, black hair had begun to thin, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to it just yet, and if you were honest, neither were you.

He was always so busy, you were barely able to see him these days. Lucifer had aligned time for you both, it would seem, along with the seasonably warm air that allowed you both to have a delightful banquet alfresco, and take some time just for yourselves even if no words were spoken. It was perfect just to see him relax and recharge in your company, and take solace in the feeling of your fingers dancing over his skin.

He groaned as he woke, asleep for only thirty minutes, and mismatched eyes staring up at you, silently admiring you as you did him just moments ago. He watched your eyes flicker over the words as you devoured them, and marvelled at the way your lashes curled upwards, and how your hair blew in the light wind as though they were branches from the very willow you sat below.

“Read to me, cuore mio,” he requested suddenly, pulling you out of the fictional world and into reality, if only for a moment.

You smiled and cleared your throat, reading as your love had asked. “‘Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? I know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my feelings were those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants and have glutted myself with their shrieks and misery.’”

Secondo hummed, pleased with the excerpt. He sat up, crawled to you, and placed a long, tender kiss on your lips, his hand caressing your cheek as he loved on you. The kiss stole your breath away from you, as most kisses with Secondo did. Your eyes closed, allowing you to feel the thrill of his gentle touch and handling of you, losing yourself to the senses that were clouded entirely by him. How, even after all this time, your heart still beat rapidly as though it was the first time he’d ever kissed you.

He pulled away, and you found yourself chasing after him, silently begging for more of his taste. When you opened your eyes, you were met with a mischievous grin - mischievous, but reflecting your own lovesick smile that formed on your face once you’d made eye contact with him. “It is warm, sì?” he asked, though, it wasn’t a question you needed to answer. “I am going to dip my toes in the river.”

His voice was deeper than usual thanks to the hushed tone he spoke in, allowing you to hear a gravel in his voice, almost like the low rumble of a lion. His Italian accent was thick, too - because he hadn’t bothered to kick his brain into full English mode and take care with his pronunciation, but all that did was make heat pool in your core. You loved hearing him unfiltered, still lethargic from sleep and mumbling to you in a mixture of English and Italian. Even just speaking his mother tongue made your heart skip a beat and your brain turn to putty as you melted through his hands and onto the ground.

He stood from his knees, groaning slightly at the feel of his bones cracking and muscles stretching from his time sleeping in the same position. He lifted his arms above his head to stretch those out too, before turning and heading towards the river bank. You watched as he removed his dress shoes and socks, tucking the white garments neatly into the walls of his shoes to protect them from the elements. He gathered them together and neatly placed them side by side away from the edge, before he bent down to roll his trouser legs up, cuffing them to his knees.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, his masculine hands making short work of the black fabric as it was rolled up his shins to the bottom of his thick thighs; the way that his stomach creased as he bent down, becoming a little pudgier as he aged and ate all the food he desired. You loved his softer body, how full he felt beneath your own when you cuddled up to him in bed at night, or sat on him as you rode his cock to completion. The sturdiness of him bewitched you, body and soul, and even now, as he did the most mundane activity, you couldn’t help but stare at his beauty and think he belonged in a museum.

The way the sun shone down on him now that he was beyond the protection of the willow’s shade was as if it was back-lighting him, allowing you to see the outline of his profile as he worked away at his trouser legs. The shape of his strong, Roman nose was prominent because of this, the hook ever so slightly lit and letting you see the large protrusion as it fell downwards to complete the rest of the nose structure. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, before he turned his back to you and sat himself down on the grass, dipping his toes into the water first, followed by the rest of his legs once he’d gotten used to the temperature change.

His back was glorious, too. You could see the light beige of his skin beneath the white, tempting you, tantalising you with each second it faced you. Your mind flashed back to all the times you’d had access to that part of his body, how it felt beneath your hands as you stroked along the skin, or scratched it accidentally in pure, unbridled lust. He was absolutely delectable.

You closed your book and stood, dropping it on the picnic blanket as you passed it to avoid it getting dirty from the grass below your feet. You made your way over to him, disrupting his peace and kneeling behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and meeting at his soft chest. Your lips moved to his ear, kissing the appendage and relishing in the little moan that escaped his lips as he felt your teeth begin to bite. He was really sensitive around his neck and ears, and loved feeling your fingers or mouth over those areas. It was a surefire way to get him going, and he always loved when you graced him with such an action.

His hands moved up from the edge of the ground and clasped around your wrists and arms, digging his digits into your skin as he hissed at the feeling of you on him. He hummed - a content hum, that audibly gave the signal to you that he was melting into your touch, and not too long afterwards, you felt his body do the same thing. “Cuore mio,” he gruffed, lulling his head onto your shoulder in pure bliss, “you know how to drive me mad, hm?”

You smiled and released his ear to speak, kissing your way down to his neck. “You know how I could make it so much worse?” You teased, moving your right hand down his chest and onto his belly with a medium pressure.

“How?” he asked, no hesitancy in his voice at all.

You kissed his neck one final time before coming back up to his ear. Once your mouth was level, you said, “By making you actually mad.”

Before Secondo had time to respond and ask you what you were talking about, both of your hands moved to his back and pushed hard. At first, you didn’t think it would work. At first, you thought he’d fight against you, pin you down, win, and threaten to push you into the river himself. But you’d lulled him into a false sense of security, and because his body was so lax, one moment he was there and the next?

You heard a splash, and saw the water swallow your man whole, laughing at his misfortune as he bobbed back up to the surface, his hair flat against his head and his cardinal paints running down his face like thick, black tears. His mouth hung open, and he gasped at the coldness surrounding him, his body shocked by the sudden temperature change.

He looked at you, and growled some expletives in Italian, no doubt cussing you out for your impish behaviour. “Amore,” he addressed you firmly, “you have five seconds.”

“For what?” you asked through giggles.

“To run.”

He swam to the riverbank and grasped onto the edge, lifting himself out of the water. His white dress shirt was entirely see-through now, sticking to his body and leaving nothing to the imagination. Not that you ever needed to use your imagination with Secondo, but even so. You could practically feel the drool escaping your mouth at the sight of him: torso scandalously on display, chubby arms bulging at the biceps as he lifted his arms to slick his sodden hair back with both of his hands. Maybe you didn’t want to run, maybe you wanted him to just ravish you on the bank of the river just to add more fuel to the fire should someone see you both.

The world didn’t know about you two yet, but if this was how they found out because the good Cardinal had taken you beneath you willow tree, who were you to complain?

You stood your ground, watching with a coy smile as he strode towards you in no more than four steps, and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his soaking body. He turned so your back was facing the water, and began to walk you to your doom.

“No!” you protested through laughter and screams. “No, Secondo! No! I’m sorry, please don’t-”

He, too, was cackling like a lovesick fool, a 38-year-old man behaving like a teenager because he was so desperately in love with his partner, he couldn’t stand it. You felt your heel reach the edge of the bank, and in one swoop, Secondo had maneuvered you into a dip, both of his hands supporting your weight as he forced you backward, bending at the waist as though you were in a ballroom dancing together. You had gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into the wet fabric and plush flesh beneath trying to not fall in as you pleaded for what felt like your life.

“I could let you fall,” he taunted, “I should for that little joke.”

“Please don’t!” you screeched. “Secondo!”

Your laughter was music to his ears. He dropped you a little further down.

“Secondo!” you screamed. “I’m sorry! Please don’t!”

“Why, amore? Why would you do such a thing to the man whose heart you hold in your sweet palms?”

“I thought it would be funny - I’m sorry!”

He tutted playfully. “Sathanas, she wounds me.”

“I’ll do anything!”

His eyebrows perked up. “Anything?”

“Yes!”

He allowed his eyes to roam your body, fully taking in how you looked, flushed and begging for him to save you, a damsel in a distress of his own making, but his knees were weak for it nonetheless. Your white dress had also become translucent from where it was pressed up against his dripping body, and his eyes darkened at the realisation that you were completely bare beneath your dress. He could see the pigment of your areolas peeking through the wet, thin fabric making him damn near feral for you.

He pulled you back upright and spun you around so you were completely on dry land.

“On your back for me, per favore,” he requested, dropping his hands from your back and walking over to the picnic basket.

You obeyed, but moved inland a little more, not knowing what he had up his sleeve. The two cups you drank from earlier were now in his hands, and his eyes were watching you get comfortable on the grass. “Close your eyes,” he ordered, gently. You did as he asked and closed them, trying to heighten your other senses to compensate but failing. What you hadn’t realised was that Secondo had taken that opportunity to walk back to the river, fill up both the cups and head back to you, placing them on the ground behind him.

“Spread your legs for me.”

You heard him groan as your bare cunt was exposed to him, your dress falling up your thighs from your movement. He knelt on the ground between your thighs, you knew this because you felt his large palms on your knees as he got onto his, hands then moving up to rub at your naked thighs in a backwards and forwards motion. Then, when one of his hands disappeared, just a few seconds later you felt something cold on your torso.

A steady stream of water from the cup had begun to pour onto your stomach, soaking your dress to make the fabric just as translucent as his, revealing your belly to him. You screamed out in surprise, and your body jumped, but once you got used to the feeling, it didn’t feel too bad.

“Revenge served cold, no?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he asked you, revelling in the way you tried to get away. He then poured the second cup over your breasts, your nipples becoming more and more prominent and driving him insane. It felt like slow torture - when you pushed him into the river, he had the shock all at once and was forced to get used to it very quickly, but he was taking his time with you, making sure you felt every drop before he ran out of water.

The way your dress stuck to your skin had the man feral. Like with you, though he’d already seen you naked before, there was something extra naughty about seeing you like this, clothed but exposed for the world to see. No, not the world. Him. His eyes only. You were his and he’d make sure everyone remembered that.

“Oh, cuore mio,” he sighed, gazing at you spread out in front of him. There was a dark longing in his eyes, like he had yearned for you for centuries. Sometimes, he still acted like he was fighting to gain your favour, not quite believing that you were his, and that, if he had his way, you always would be.

He lay on the ground, uncaring about how dirty he was going to get lying flat on his stomach like that. You could feel his hot breath over your core, the very part of you that was twitching and begging for him; that had been for some time. You were dripping for him, and it wasn’t the fault of the water down there, at least. And then, you felt him.

Your eyes shot open at his tongue connecting with your clit, laving the bundle of nerves and giving it the utmost attention using the tip. His mouth closed around and sucked, exactly how you liked. He was gentle at first, but the more you got used to the feeling, the harsher he used his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and letting his spit combine with your wetness to make it sloppier, yet so much better.

Your hands immediately went to his hair, pushing him into you and holding him there. He let you - he always did. Even when your hips bucked, he’d rarely push you back down and still you. You could take whatever you wanted from him, he was yours to use as you saw fit. The moans that fell from your lips were delightful, breaking the silence against the birdsong and vocalising with them, another beautiful creature satisfied on this spring afternoon.

“S-Secondo,” you begged, fingers tightening in his hair, “please. Y-your fingers.”

He shook his head, still sucking on your clit, before he released you with a pop. “Not today, amore. They are unclean.”

You let out a frustrated whine as he licked over your clit once more.

He cackled, and with a faux tone of sympathy, said, “Aw, is my angioletta suffering? Does she want her Cardinale’s fingers in her?”

“Yes!” You cried out, tightening your grip on his hair.

“Maybe,” lick, “you should have thought about that,” lick, “before you threw me in the river.”

He continued his ministrations, his tongue expertly working over your folds as it usually would. He began to feel an ache which he’d normally alleviate with his fingers, burying them deep inside you and making you sing for him. But this was punishment for your actions, and he was always more than happy to have you squirm. More than happy to make you needy and desperate for his cock.

He knew exactly where you wanted him, and made sure to focus his attentions there; laving over your clit exactly how you needed him to. He loved the noises you made, didn’t care who could hear them or how loud you were, so long as you were making them. And, he’d do anything within his power to get those noises to tumble from you as he wished. His tongue danced over your flesh, swirling and playing with your body as he was known to do. He’d enclose his lips around your clit and suck often, causing your back to arch off the ground and hips to push against his face to chase your pleasures.

You were so close. You could feel yourself about to lose control entirely and soon enough, he brought you to your end. Your moans had turned into screams, “ah”s dropping from your open mouth as though you were in pain.

Your orgasm was nowhere near you until you looked down and saw him. He was drying out, but still so very wet. His hair slicked back with water, eyes blown out and wild, yet the rest of his face hidden behind your cunt as he ate away at your sanity. The bridge of his nose visible over your pubic mound, watching it move with the way his face was pressed into you. That was what did it.

“Oh, fuck!” you yelled, your voice scaring the birds away with your volume.

Your entire body felt numb in only the best way - in a way only Secondo could make you feel. Sensitivity washed through you as your toes curled at your orgasm, and your hole clenched around nothing, begging for Secondo to push his way inside you and take whatever he wanted from you. The way he made you feel, in your mind, allowed him to use you as he saw fit, and so you eagerly awaited him to finish working you through it, and to focus on himself instead.

He only backed off when you pushed him away, when the sensitivity had become too much for your body to bear and pain had begun to seep through the cracks. Instead of forcing him entirely off your body, you grabbed onto his drenched shirt and pulled him up so his entire body had caged you against the grass, dress hiking up a little more and revealing the bottom of your stomach. You captured him in a kiss, a kiss that tasted like your cum - a taste that shouldn’t have stoked your fire as much as it did, but you were bucking against him as much as you could.

“I need you,” you whispered when you finally broke away, when his lips trailed down to your neck and placed filthy kisses to your skin.

“You have me,” he teased you, purposefully driving you to the outcome he most wanted.

“You know what I mean.”

“Cuore mio, I need to hear those words. What do you need?”

“Your cock… I need your cock.”

He hummed. “Brava ragazza.” He reached down to his trousers and undid them, pushing them far enough down his thighs to free his cock from its confinement. “You are so wet for me, I will slide in easily, sì?”

“Secondo.” Your voice was breathy, gasping for air as you spoke because your lungs refused to fill up.

You could feel him, hot and hard against your folds, teasing your entrance and rubbing up and down your slick.

“You infuriate me!” you yelled, gently hitting his chest. This wasn’t real anger, just frustration at his stalling. “This is maddening.”

“Does it drive you mad, angioletta?” he teased.

“Yes!”

“Good,” he lowered his voice, “now you have a small idea of what madness you inflict on me every day. Usa le tue parole,” he rested his forehead onto yours, one hand resting on the ground to hold him up, the other cupping your breast, “tell me where you want me.”

“Inside! I… I want you inside me. Want to feel your cock. Secondo, please. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

His tone was soft, “Non potrei mai negarti nulla.” With that, he slid inside you, meeting no resistance at all. Your core welcomed him in, stretching around him so deliciously, it was as though you were made for him. You both gasped at the slow stretch, yours a little quieter than his, which was more of a gravelly exhale, the kind you’d release when you felt relieved. Your right leg had been hooked over his left, allowing him better access to your hole, keeping you nice and open for him to have his way with you.

He remained still, making sure you were completely okay before he slowly pulled out, then pushed back in. It didn’t matter how many times he’d bury himself inside you, you’d always need a moment or two to get used to his considerable size.

His movements remain shallow, gentle, like you’re the most fragile glass he’d ever touched that you might smash at any moment. He’s tender with his touches, but slowly his speed picks up, the crown of his head gets deeper and deeper until he cannot go any further, and eventually his thrusts have you bouncing perfectly on his cock, body jiggling with the force. There’s still love and passion in his touch, but it’s become much firmer than before.

“Sec-ondo!” you gasp out, breath short and lungs struggling to fill with air at the overwhelming pleasure he was putting you through.

“I know, amore,” he replied, burying his face in the crook of your neck and kissing you fervently. His tongue laved over the pulse point, and sent goosebumps down your spine.

Your hands were all over his body, nails digging into the skin beneath the wet shirt he was wearing wherever you could grab him. Your moans were getting louder with each buck of his hips, turning more into screams with how good he was making you feel.

Secondo loved how you sounded when he was balls deep in you, how overwhelmed you got being worshipped in the way you deserved. He always got so smug when he made you cum, grinning ear-to-ear with how proud he was of himself for making you feel so good. He loved the marks you left, the scratches, the nail imprints, any bruises that were left over from your hands wandering over his body from where you were so focussed on your pleasure, you couldn’t think of anything else. He wore those injuries with pride, doing nothing to hide them. Whenever you gave him a hickey, he’d make sure to fold his collar down so everyone could see.

And so, when he felt your nails on his back, he groaned and pushed into you a little harder than he wanted to, but revelled in the noise you made afterward. The most perfect reward.

You felt divine; you always did. Velvety soft walls that enveloped his length so well, a body that felt like home whether it was below him or above it didn’t matter. With your body against his, he was the closest to Heaven he’d ever get. He’d go to war for you, die for you with no hesitation - just as long as his final night alive was spent in your arms, and enveloping him with your body and soul.

He lifted his hips, changing his position slightly so that he was on all fours, just enough to fit a hand between the two of you. “Touch y-yourself for me,” he asked you, voice deeper than usual. He groaned when you tightened around him, his voice doing wonders to your arousal.

You moved your hand to your clit and rubbed at it quickly, clenching around Secondo again at another moan he let out. This time, he’d watched your hand move from his arm, across your wet stomach, and down to your clit, the movement of your knuckles as your fingers worked circles into your flesh making his stomach drop with arousal and more blood rush to his cock. You were so effortlessly sexy, drove him mad so easily. Even the most mundane tasks would have him pulling you off to the nearest private room so he could work out his issue. He adored you.

“You are close, sì?” he asked, breaths getting heavier and thrusts becoming more erratic.

You bit your bottom lip and whimpered.

“I want to feel it, amore,” he told you. He lowered himself back onto you, trapping your hand in between you both, though you could still move it and work yourself to completion. He moved his lips to your ear, panting and puffing on top of you. He dropped his voice to a whisper when he spoke. “Cum for me. Voglio sentirlo così tanto.”

It only took two more swipes of your finger to come undone, cunt clenching around his cock so deliciously, it made him stutter and find difficulty in moving. Your lungs stopped working for a time, a silent scream falling from your mouth as your whole body became electrified with pleasure. Your toes curled into the grass, and your finger continued to work at you until the sensitivity became too much and you had to stop.

You pulled your hand out from between you two and brought it up to your mouth, you were about to suck off the remnants of your orgasm when Secondo gripped onto your wrist and pulled your fingers into his mouth, licking the taste of you off. He groaned like you were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted, eyes rolling back and hips snapping into you.

“So delicious, amore mio,” he commented.

You pulled your fingers away and held his head in between your hands. “Are you close, my love?”

“Sì. So close.”

“I want you to cum inside me, Secondo,” you told him, looking into his eyes. “I want it so bad.”

“Merda! You are n-naughty, amore. Wa-ah! Want my cum ins-side you that bad, hm? Want me to fuck you full, sì? Put a baby in you?”

“Yes! Give it to me, please!”

He buried his head in your neck one final time and bit down on the flesh, shooting his cum into your waiting cunt, every rope of it spilling inside you where it belonged. His hips spasmed, proof that he was also feeling his own powerful orgasm because of you. One of his hands sat on your waist, and held on tightly, grounding himself to keep himself present with you. Your orgasm passed much quicker than his, his movements only coming to a halt when it had completely subsided, leaving him a pliant, mush of a man lying completely on your body, spent from all his exertions.

You stroked your hand through his hair, despite it being still very damp with water and now sweat, anything to provide him comfort.

He looked up at you once he gained his strength back, and sighed. “I am sorry, amore,” he apologised. “I marked you.”

“I’ll wear it with pride.” You sat up a little to press a kiss to his lips.

You both were perfectly content lying there for a moment, just letting your bodies recover from the exercise you’d both had, until the wetness became too much. “We should get back and shower, cuore mio,” Secondo suggested.

“You just want me naked, don’t you?”

He grinned. “I’d never say no.”

He pulled out of you and you both hissed at the sensation. He tucked himself away once he’d stood up, then held out his hand to you to help you up as well. You both got some stares on the way back to the Ministry, of course, but neither of you cared - you were both too tired to. Too tired, and too wrapped up in one another.

Of course, this would happen again…

Translations.

Cuore mio - my heart.

Sì - yes.

Amore - love.

Per favore - please.

Brava ragazza - good girl.

Usa le tue parole - use your words.

Non potrei mai negarti nulla. - I could never deny you.

The afternoon breeze had begun to blow softly around the trees, shaking them as if to drown out the birdsong, but it only ended up accompanying the avian melodies. Spring had arrived, bringing with it tempered heat and the sounds and sights of full nature, green returning after the long winter months that left everything dead and brown. You sat beneath the cover of a willow tree, your favourite on the Ministry grounds because no one ever came there and bothered you. It was beautifully quiet thanks to its location, far enough away that the hustle and bustle of Ministry life couldn’t disturb you. Silent, save for the sounds of the natural world going about its business as you leaned against the trunk of the tree, a book in your hand and your nose buried within it.

Your other hand was gently placed on the rising and falling chest of Secondo, his head resting on your thighs and eyes closed, peacefully sleeping off the full meal of the picnic that you’d taken with you, now entirely devoured and the packages and dishes waiting inside the wicker basket ready to be cleaned, situated only a few metres away from you, and closer to the bank of the river that flowed through the grounds and ended in the sea. Your fingers lightly traced over his bare skin, his white dress shirt opened wide enough for you to have easy access to him, feeling his thick chest hair below their tips. His moustache had a singular grey hair in it that would catch the light sometimes and make his upper lip sparkle.

Though your eyes roamed over the words in your hand, occasionally they’d slip over to his Cardinal painted face, and you’d resist the urge to run those fingers over the same expanse of skin that your eyes had roamed over, fearful of waking him. Instead, you decided to let him sleep, and just bask in the glory of his company. His once thick, black hair had begun to thin, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to it just yet, and if you were honest, neither were you.

He was always so busy, you were barely able to see him these days. Lucifer had aligned time for you both, it would seem, along with the seasonably warm air that allowed you both to have a delightful banquet alfresco, and take some time just for yourselves even if no words were spoken. It was perfect just to see him relax and recharge in your company, and take solace in the feeling of your fingers dancing over his skin.

He groaned as he woke, asleep for only thirty minutes, and mismatched eyes staring up at you, silently admiring you as you did him just moments ago. He watched your eyes flicker over the words as you devoured them, and marvelled at the way your lashes curled upwards, and how your hair blew in the light wind as though they were branches from the very willow you sat below.

“Read to me, cuore mio,” he requested suddenly, pulling you out of the fictional world and into reality, if only for a moment.

You smiled and cleared your throat, reading as your love had asked. “‘Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? I know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my feelings were those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants and have glutted myself with their shrieks and misery.’”

Secondo hummed, pleased with the excerpt. He sat up, crawled to you, and placed a long, tender kiss on your lips, his hand caressing your cheek as he loved on you. The kiss stole your breath away from you, as most kisses with Secondo did. Your eyes closed, allowing you to feel the thrill of his gentle touch and handling of you, losing yourself to the senses that were clouded entirely by him. How, even after all this time, your heart still beat rapidly as though it was the first time he’d ever kissed you.

He pulled away, and you found yourself chasing after him, silently begging for more of his taste. When you opened your eyes, you were met with a mischievous grin - mischievous, but reflecting your own lovesick smile that formed on your face once you’d made eye contact with him. “It is warm, sì?” he asked, though, it wasn’t a question you needed to answer. “I am going to dip my toes in the river.”

His voice was deeper than usual thanks to the hushed tone he spoke in, allowing you to hear a gravel in his voice, almost like the low rumble of a lion. His Italian accent was thick, too - because he hadn’t bothered to kick his brain into full English mode and take care with his pronunciation, but all that did was make heat pool in your core. You loved hearing him unfiltered, still lethargic from sleep and mumbling to you in a mixture of English and Italian. Even just speaking his mother tongue made your heart skip a beat and your brain turn to putty as you melted through his hands and onto the ground.

He stood from his knees, groaning slightly at the feel of his bones cracking and muscles stretching from his time sleeping in the same position. He lifted his arms above his head to stretch those out too, before turning and heading towards the river bank. You watched as he removed his dress shoes and socks, tucking the white garments neatly into the walls of his shoes to protect them from the elements. He gathered them together and neatly placed them side by side away from the edge, before he bent down to roll his trouser legs up, cuffing them to his knees.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, his masculine hands making short work of the black fabric as it was rolled up his shins to the bottom of his thick thighs; the way that his stomach creased as he bent down, becoming a little pudgier as he aged and ate all the food he desired. You loved his softer body, how full he felt beneath your own when you cuddled up to him in bed at night, or sat on him as you rode his cock to completion. The sturdiness of him bewitched you, body and soul, and even now, as he did the most mundane activity, you couldn’t help but stare at his beauty and think he belonged in a museum.

The way the sun shone down on him now that he was beyond the protection of the willow’s shade was as if it was back-lighting him, allowing you to see the outline of his profile as he worked away at his trouser legs. The shape of his strong, Roman nose was prominent because of this, the hook ever so slightly lit and letting you see the large protrusion as it fell downwards to complete the rest of the nose structure. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, before he turned his back to you and sat himself down on the grass, dipping his toes into the water first, followed by the rest of his legs once he’d gotten used to the temperature change.

His back was glorious, too. You could see the light beige of his skin beneath the white, tempting you, tantalising you with each second it faced you. Your mind flashed back to all the times you’d had access to that part of his body, how it felt beneath your hands as you stroked along the skin, or scratched it accidentally in pure, unbridled lust. He was absolutely delectable.

You closed your book and stood, dropping it on the picnic blanket as you passed it to avoid it getting dirty from the grass below your feet. You made your way over to him, disrupting his peace and kneeling behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and meeting at his soft chest. Your lips moved to his ear, kissing the appendage and relishing in the little moan that escaped his lips as he felt your teeth begin to bite. He was really sensitive around his neck and ears, and loved feeling your fingers or mouth over those areas. It was a surefire way to get him going, and he always loved when you graced him with such an action.

His hands moved up from the edge of the ground and clasped around your wrists and arms, digging his digits into your skin as he hissed at the feeling of you on him. He hummed - a content hum, that audibly gave the signal to you that he was melting into your touch, and not too long afterwards, you felt his body do the same thing. “Cuore mio,” he gruffed, lulling his head onto your shoulder in pure bliss, “you know how to drive me mad, hm?”

You smiled and released his ear to speak, kissing your way down to his neck. “You know how I could make it so much worse?” You teased, moving your right hand down his chest and onto his belly with a medium pressure.

“How?” he asked, no hesitancy in his voice at all.

You kissed his neck one final time before coming back up to his ear. Once your mouth was level, you said, “By making you actually mad.”

Before Secondo had time to respond and ask you what you were talking about, both of your hands moved to his back and pushed hard. At first, you didn’t think it would work. At first, you thought he’d fight against you, pin you down, win, and threaten to push you into the river himself. But you’d lulled him into a false sense of security, and because his body was so lax, one moment he was there and the next?

You heard a splash, and saw the water swallow your man whole, laughing at his misfortune as he bobbed back up to the surface, his hair flat against his head and his cardinal paints running down his face like thick, black tears. His mouth hung open, and he gasped at the coldness surrounding him, his body shocked by the sudden temperature change.

He looked at you, and growled some expletives in Italian, no doubt cussing you out for your impish behaviour. “Amore,” he addressed you firmly, “you have five seconds.”

“For what?” you asked through giggles.

“To run.”

He swam to the riverbank and grasped onto the edge, lifting himself out of the water. His white dress shirt was entirely see-through now, sticking to his body and leaving nothing to the imagination. Not that you ever needed to use your imagination with Secondo, but even so. You could practically feel the drool escaping your mouth at the sight of him: torso scandalously on display, chubby arms bulging at the biceps as he lifted his arms to slick his sodden hair back with both of his hands. Maybe you didn’t want to run, maybe you wanted him to just ravish you on the bank of the river just to add more fuel to the fire should someone see you both.

The world didn’t know about you two yet, but if this was how they found out because the good Cardinal had taken you beneath you willow tree, who were you to complain?

You stood your ground, watching with a coy smile as he strode towards you in no more than four steps, and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his soaking body. He turned so your back was facing the water, and began to walk you to your doom.

“No!” you protested through laughter and screams. “No, Secondo! No! I’m sorry, please don’t-”

He, too, was cackling like a lovesick fool, a 38-year-old man behaving like a teenager because he was so desperately in love with his partner, he couldn’t stand it. You felt your heel reach the edge of the bank, and in one swoop, Secondo had maneuvered you into a dip, both of his hands supporting your weight as he forced you backward, bending at the waist as though you were in a ballroom dancing together. You had gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into the wet fabric and plush flesh beneath trying to not fall in as you pleaded for what felt like your life.

“I could let you fall,” he taunted, “I should for that little joke.”

“Please don’t!” you screeched. “Secondo!”

Your laughter was music to his ears. He dropped you a little further down.

“Secondo!” you screamed. “I’m sorry! Please don’t!”

“Why, amore? Why would you do such a thing to the man whose heart you hold in your sweet palms?”

“I thought it would be funny - I’m sorry!”

He tutted playfully. “Sathanas, she wounds me.”

“I’ll do anything!”

His eyebrows perked up. “Anything?”

“Yes!”

He allowed his eyes to roam your body, fully taking in how you looked, flushed and begging for him to save you, a damsel in a distress of his own making, but his knees were weak for it nonetheless. Your white dress had also become translucent from where it was pressed up against his dripping body, and his eyes darkened at the realisation that you were completely bare beneath your dress. He could see the pigment of your areolas peeking through the wet, thin fabric making him damn near feral for you.

He pulled you back upright and spun you around so you were completely on dry land.

“On your back for me, per favore,” he requested, dropping his hands from your back and walking over to the picnic basket.

You obeyed, but moved inland a little more, not knowing what he had up his sleeve. The two cups you drank from earlier were now in his hands, and his eyes were watching you get comfortable on the grass. “Close your eyes,” he ordered, gently. You did as he asked and closed them, trying to heighten your other senses to compensate but failing. What you hadn’t realised was that Secondo had taken that opportunity to walk back to the river, fill up both the cups and head back to you, placing them on the ground behind him.

“Spread your legs for me.”

You heard him groan as your bare cunt was exposed to him, your dress falling up your thighs from your movement. He knelt on the ground between your thighs, you knew this because you felt his large palms on your knees as he got onto his, hands then moving up to rub at your naked thighs in a backwards and forwards motion. Then, when one of his hands disappeared, just a few seconds later you felt something cold on your torso.

A steady stream of water from the cup had begun to pour onto your stomach, soaking your dress to make the fabric just as translucent as his, revealing your belly to him. You screamed out in surprise, and your body jumped, but once you got used to the feeling, it didn’t feel too bad.

“Revenge served cold, no?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he asked you, revelling in the way you tried to get away. He then poured the second cup over your breasts, your nipples becoming more and more prominent and driving him insane. It felt like slow torture - when you pushed him into the river, he had the shock all at once and was forced to get used to it very quickly, but he was taking his time with you, making sure you felt every drop before he ran out of water.

The way your dress stuck to your skin had the man feral. Like with you, though he’d already seen you naked before, there was something extra naughty about seeing you like this, clothed but exposed for the world to see. No, not the world. Him. His eyes only. You were his and he’d make sure everyone remembered that.

“Oh, cuore mio,” he sighed, gazing at you spread out in front of him. There was a dark longing in his eyes, like he had yearned for you for centuries. Sometimes, he still acted like he was fighting to gain your favour, not quite believing that you were his, and that, if he had his way, you always would be.

He lay on the ground, uncaring about how dirty he was going to get lying flat on his stomach like that. You could feel his hot breath over your core, the very part of you that was twitching and begging for him; that had been for some time. You were dripping for him, and it wasn’t the fault of the water down there, at least. And then, you felt him.

Your eyes shot open at his tongue connecting with your clit, laving the bundle of nerves and giving it the utmost attention using the tip. His mouth closed around and sucked, exactly how you liked. He was gentle at first, but the more you got used to the feeling, the harsher he used his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and letting his spit combine with your wetness to make it sloppier, yet so much better.

Your hands immediately went to his hair, pushing him into you and holding him there. He let you - he always did. Even when your hips bucked, he’d rarely push you back down and still you. You could take whatever you wanted from him, he was yours to use as you saw fit. The moans that fell from your lips were delightful, breaking the silence against the birdsong and vocalising with them, another beautiful creature satisfied on this spring afternoon.

“S-Secondo,” you begged, fingers tightening in his hair, “please. Y-your fingers.”

He shook his head, still sucking on your clit, before he released you with a pop. “Not today, amore. They are unclean.”

You let out a frustrated whine as he licked over your clit once more.

He cackled, and with a faux tone of sympathy, said, “Aw, is my angioletta suffering? Does she want her Cardinale’s fingers in her?”

“Yes!” You cried out, tightening your grip on his hair.

“Maybe,” lick, “you should have thought about that,” lick, “before you threw me in the river.”

He continued his ministrations, his tongue expertly working over your folds as it usually would. He began to feel an ache which he’d normally alleviate with his fingers, burying them deep inside you and making you sing for him. But this was punishment for your actions, and he was always more than happy to have you squirm. More than happy to make you needy and desperate for his cock.

He knew exactly where you wanted him, and made sure to focus his attentions there; laving over your clit exactly how you needed him to. He loved the noises you made, didn’t care who could hear them or how loud you were, so long as you were making them. And, he’d do anything within his power to get those noises to tumble from you as he wished. His tongue danced over your flesh, swirling and playing with your body as he was known to do. He’d enclose his lips around your clit and suck often, causing your back to arch off the ground and hips to push against his face to chase your pleasures.

You were so close. You could feel yourself about to lose control entirely and soon enough, he brought you to your end. Your moans had turned into screams, “ah”s dropping from your open mouth as though you were in pain.

Your orgasm was nowhere near you until you looked down and saw him. He was drying out, but still so very wet. His hair slicked back with water, eyes blown out and wild, yet the rest of his face hidden behind your cunt as he ate away at your sanity. The bridge of his nose visible over your pubic mound, watching it move with the way his face was pressed into you. That was what did it.

“Oh, fuck!” you yelled, your voice scaring the birds away with your volume.

Your entire body felt numb in only the best way - in a way only Secondo could make you feel. Sensitivity washed through you as your toes curled at your orgasm, and your hole clenched around nothing, begging for Secondo to push his way inside you and take whatever he wanted from you. The way he made you feel, in your mind, allowed him to use you as he saw fit, and so you eagerly awaited him to finish working you through it, and to focus on himself instead.

He only backed off when you pushed him away, when the sensitivity had become too much for your body to bear and pain had begun to seep through the cracks. Instead of forcing him entirely off your body, you grabbed onto his drenched shirt and pulled him up so his entire body had caged you against the grass, dress hiking up a little more and revealing the bottom of your stomach. You captured him in a kiss, a kiss that tasted like your cum - a taste that shouldn’t have stoked your fire as much as it did, but you were bucking against him as much as you could.

“I need you,” you whispered when you finally broke away, when his lips trailed down to your neck and placed filthy kisses to your skin.

“You have me,” he teased you, purposefully driving you to the outcome he most wanted.

“You know what I mean.”

“Cuore mio, I need to hear those words. What do you need?”

“Your cock… I need your cock.”

He hummed. “Brava ragazza.” He reached down to his trousers and undid them, pushing them far enough down his thighs to free his cock from its confinement. “You are so wet for me, I will slide in easily, sì?”

“Secondo.” Your voice was breathy, gasping for air as you spoke because your lungs refused to fill up.

You could feel him, hot and hard against your folds, teasing your entrance and rubbing up and down your slick.

“You infuriate me!” you yelled, gently hitting his chest. This wasn’t real anger, just frustration at his stalling. “This is maddening.”

“Does it drive you mad, angioletta?” he teased.

“Yes!”

“Good,” he lowered his voice, “now you have a small idea of what madness you inflict on me every day. Usa le tue parole,” he rested his forehead onto yours, one hand resting on the ground to hold him up, the other cupping your breast, “tell me where you want me.”

“Inside! I… I want you inside me. Want to feel your cock. Secondo, please. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

His tone was soft, “Non potrei mai negarti nulla.” With that, he slid inside you, meeting no resistance at all. Your core welcomed him in, stretching around him so deliciously, it was as though you were made for him. You both gasped at the slow stretch, yours a little quieter than his, which was more of a gravelly exhale, the kind you’d release when you felt relieved. Your right leg had been hooked over his left, allowing him better access to your hole, keeping you nice and open for him to have his way with you.

He remained still, making sure you were completely okay before he slowly pulled out, then pushed back in. It didn’t matter how many times he’d bury himself inside you, you’d always need a moment or two to get used to his considerable size.

His movements remain shallow, gentle, like you’re the most fragile glass he’d ever touched that you might smash at any moment. He’s tender with his touches, but slowly his speed picks up, the crown of his head gets deeper and deeper until he cannot go any further, and eventually his thrusts have you bouncing perfectly on his cock, body jiggling with the force. There’s still love and passion in his touch, but it’s become much firmer than before.

“Sec-ondo!” you gasp out, breath short and lungs struggling to fill with air at the overwhelming pleasure he was putting you through.

“I know, amore,” he replied, burying his face in the crook of your neck and kissing you fervently. His tongue laved over the pulse point, and sent goosebumps down your spine.

Your hands were all over his body, nails digging into the skin beneath the wet shirt he was wearing wherever you could grab him. Your moans were getting louder with each buck of his hips, turning more into screams with how good he was making you feel.

Secondo loved how you sounded when he was balls deep in you, how overwhelmed you got being worshipped in the way you deserved. He always got so smug when he made you cum, grinning ear-to-ear with how proud he was of himself for making you feel so good. He loved the marks you left, the scratches, the nail imprints, any bruises that were left over from your hands wandering over his body from where you were so focussed on your pleasure, you couldn’t think of anything else. He wore those injuries with pride, doing nothing to hide them. Whenever you gave him a hickey, he’d make sure to fold his collar down so everyone could see.

And so, when he felt your nails on his back, he groaned and pushed into you a little harder than he wanted to, but revelled in the noise you made afterward. The most perfect reward.

You felt divine; you always did. Velvety soft walls that enveloped his length so well, a body that felt like home whether it was below him or above it didn’t matter. With your body against his, he was the closest to Heaven he’d ever get. He’d go to war for you, die for you with no hesitation - just as long as his final night alive was spent in your arms, and enveloping him with your body and soul.

He lifted his hips, changing his position slightly so that he was on all fours, just enough to fit a hand between the two of you. “Touch y-yourself for me,” he asked you, voice deeper than usual. He groaned when you tightened around him, his voice doing wonders to your arousal.

You moved your hand to your clit and rubbed at it quickly, clenching around Secondo again at another moan he let out. This time, he’d watched your hand move from his arm, across your wet stomach, and down to your clit, the movement of your knuckles as your fingers worked circles into your flesh making his stomach drop with arousal and more blood rush to his cock. You were so effortlessly sexy, drove him mad so easily. Even the most mundane tasks would have him pulling you off to the nearest private room so he could work out his issue. He adored you.

“You are close, sì?” he asked, breaths getting heavier and thrusts becoming more erratic.

You bit your bottom lip and whimpered.

“I want to feel it, amore,” he told you. He lowered himself back onto you, trapping your hand in between you both, though you could still move it and work yourself to completion. He moved his lips to your ear, panting and puffing on top of you. He dropped his voice to a whisper when he spoke. “Cum for me. Voglio sentirlo così tanto.”

It only took two more swipes of your finger to come undone, cunt clenching around his cock so deliciously, it made him stutter and find difficulty in moving. Your lungs stopped working for a time, a silent scream falling from your mouth as your whole body became electrified with pleasure. Your toes curled into the grass, and your finger continued to work at you until the sensitivity became too much and you had to stop.

You pulled your hand out from between you two and brought it up to your mouth, you were about to suck off the remnants of your orgasm when Secondo gripped onto your wrist and pulled your fingers into his mouth, licking the taste of you off. He groaned like you were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted, eyes rolling back and hips snapping into you.

“So delicious, amore mio,” he commented.

You pulled your fingers away and held his head in between your hands. “Are you close, my love?”

“Sì. So close.”

“I want you to cum inside me, Secondo,” you told him, looking into his eyes. “I want it so bad.”

“Merda! You are n-naughty, amore. Wa-ah! Want my cum ins-side you that bad, hm? Want me to fuck you full, sì? Put a baby in you?”

“Yes! Give it to me, please!”

He buried his head in your neck one final time and bit down on the flesh, shooting his cum into your waiting cunt, every rope of it spilling inside you where it belonged. His hips spasmed, proof that he was also feeling his own powerful orgasm because of you. One of his hands sat on your waist, and held on tightly, grounding himself to keep himself present with you. Your orgasm passed much quicker than his, his movements only coming to a halt when it had completely subsided, leaving him a pliant, mush of a man lying completely on your body, spent from all his exertions.

You stroked your hand through his hair, despite it being still very damp with water and now sweat, anything to provide him comfort.

He looked up at you once he gained his strength back, and sighed. “I am sorry, amore,” he apologised. “I marked you.”

“I’ll wear it with pride.” You sat up a little to press a kiss to his lips.

You both were perfectly content lying there for a moment, just letting your bodies recover from the exercise you’d both had, until the wetness became too much. “We should get back and shower, cuore mio,” Secondo suggested.

“You just want me naked, don’t you?”

He grinned. “I’d never say no.”

He pulled out of you and you both hissed at the sensation. He tucked himself away once he’d stood up, then held out his hand to you to help you up as well. You both got some stares on the way back to the Ministry, of course, but neither of you cared - you were both too tired to. Too tired, and too wrapped up in one another.

Of course, this would happen again…

Translations.

Cuore mio - my heart.

Sì - yes.

Amore - love.

Per favore - please.

Brava ragazza - good girl.

Usa le tue parole - use your words.

Non potrei mai negarti nulla. - I could never deny you.