perpetually papa v

"it's quite simple, really."

Terzo is already pushing his slacks down his legs, kicking them off once they reach his ankles. they slide off the side of the bed. your bottoms follow suit.

"first one to touch the other loses." he's teasing his fingertips underneath the waistband of his briefs as he speaks.

"loses... what?" your hands mimic his, your eyes hooded.

"bragging rights, mostly."

"you're on."

his eyelids flutter closed as he give his cock a squeeze, letting out a shuddering breath. emboldened, you slip your underwear off altogether and revel in the groan he lets out once he gets a good look at you.

your fingertips drift up and down your sex, toying with there you crave the most touch. a little sound escapes you, something wanton and needy.

Terzo tucks the waistband of his briefs down below his balls, stroking his already weeping cock. his thumb and index rub against his tip just the way you know he likes and you can't help but long to replace his touch with yours. but that's not the name of the game.

he grunts again. this is just as hard for him as it is for you.

"oh, Terzo!" you whine, arching your back off the pillows as your fingers find the rhythm you crave. "need your hands, your mouth..."

"vita mia..." his hair hangs in his face as he looks down at the way pre dribbles down his knuckles. his hips buck mindlessly into his hand. sounds (and looks) like you've got him right where you want him.

especially with the way you spread your legs further, exposing every bit of you. he swallows down a rather pathetic whine and resists the urge to move closer.

it isn't until you tease a finger around your hole that he starts to cave. dipping just your fingertip in, he watches the way your jaw drops and brows furrow. and when you press it in to the third knuckle, he's done for. he needs to feel for himself.

"fuck this."

he releases his cock and nearly throws himself onto his stomach, mouth centimeters away from where you need him most. you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

"knew you wouldn't last long." your hands are already smoothing back his bangs.

"silenzio."

"Stop fucking squirming," Mary spat, cigarette hanging limply from his mouth.

At present, he was on his fifteenth attempt at Vicar Amelia and you made a mental note to thank the developers of Bloodborne for Mary's most recent good luck charm, which he was currently demonstrating. His cock was buried to the hilt in your heat, sitting above you with your legs wrapped over his as he focused on the television above the bed. Every once and a while, his hips would slam forward in frustration, thrusting himself even deeper but still somehow subconsciously.

You, on the other hand, have your hands tied above you to the headboard, one of Mary's ratty bandanas acting as a makeshift gag around your mouth. It was one of your more inspired ideas, seeing how exasperated he was getting, and offering yourself as a willing conduit for his vexation. Obviously, Mary needed no further encouragement in the matter.

"Just fucking die, you fucking fuck!"

With a half-feral groaning shout, he dropped the controller beside his leg as the words "You Died" flashed across the screen. You knew his frustration was reaching critical levels, and you dared not make matters worse. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, Mary took a deep drag before pulling the cigarette away and giving it a rough tap, the ashes dropping onto the flesh just below your navel. You tensed, expecting pain but the ashes cooled quickly as they began to disintegrate against your skin.

Repositioning himself, he gripped your hips, adjusting his angle so that he leaned forward, bending you at the waist just enough to hit the spot deep within your core. Maintaining composure was proving to be beautiful agony, something Mary most certainly sensed as he looked down at you, smirking as how helpless you were beneath him. Leaning down even further, he roughly gripped your jaw, his fingers pushing the gag harshly against your tongue.

"Don't you fucking dare ruin this for me. This is it, this run is gonna take. Then I'm gonna fuck the fucking life out of you, you filthy little fuck toy."

He smacked his hand against your cheek before straightening, giving another roll of his hips for good measure as you stifled a moan.

The steel focus in his eyes burned with intensity as you tried to ignore the way his dextrous fingers slammed against the buttons, knowing just how those fingers were able to draw every ounce of pleasure from your body.

"That's it, let me fucking break you," Mary hissed at the screen, his lips pulled taught in a grimace.

You dared not to move, not to breathe as you watched the drive in his expression turn ironclad. His cock twitched inside you, knowing in that moment you were nothing but a hole to him. Oh what bliss it was to be used by Mary fucking Goore.

With a final, furious push, a triumphant chime and a monstrous roar echoed from the speakers. Prey slaughtered.

"That's right you fucking cunt, fucking take it."

Mary grinned, tossing the controller to the side with a clunk. Once again, he tapped the cigarette ash but then dropped the butt, falling directly onto your stomach. There was only the briefest moment of pain before he swept the cigarette away, leaning down to drag his tongue across the cinders on your skin. As he sat up, he yanked the gag down from your mouth as you let out a ragged gasp.

"I knew you had it in you," you said eagerly, laying on the due praise.

"So did I. I beat her last week, twice actually. I just wanted to see how well you can play with others, pet."

Replacing the gag, he gripped your face once more with a dangerous smirk.

The door to your room squeaks on its hinges as you push it open. You don't bother closing it behind you. Surely he's mere seconds away.

Right on cue, he waltzes in with his usual poise, unbothered and seemingly oblivious. It twists the knife in your gut. Especially with the smile he flashes you before speaking. But even through the red you're seeing you notice how… self-assured it seems. Like he knows something you don't.

"Finally, amore, we can be alo-"

"Did you enjoy it?"

His eyes flare open almost imperceptibly.

"Enjoy what?"

He blinks at you. The smile never leaves his face and oh, does it piss you off.

"Your little chat."

"I still don't know what you-"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

And, to your surprise, he stops talking. The smile fades.

Gotcha.

Turning your back to him, you move to sit in the recliner across the room. The floor creaks behind you as Terzo attempts to follow. You swear you've never moved faster in your life as you whip around to face him again.

"Stay there." You point to the ground. "Got it?"

He nods. Too bad that's not good enough.

"Got it?"

There a certain edge, a certain bite to your tone that hits him in the back of the knees. He's just a little bit breathless as he responds.

Copia’s promotion (or demotion, in his mind) to Frater has annoyed him, to say the very least. 

At his very worst, he upsets himself and quietly weeps about his relinquishing of his Papal title. He grieves in more ways than one, not only for this time in his life that he has to leave behind, but also for his mother. He knows Sister left this position in his hands because she found him the most capable, but it offers no salve to the sting.

And at his very best, he is disgruntled. All ruffled feathers and prickly spines as he grapples with the Papacy being handed to his brother who everyone just seems to adore. It’s all Skeletour this, Perplushie that, V here, there, and everywhere. What does he have that Copia didn’t already? The Cardi hype was real, the IV hype was out of this world, so where is the love for Frater?

He was just jealous. He knew it and you did too. To you, someone who has been with Copia throughout all of these different stages of his career, the changes to his behavior have been noticeable. Maybe not to the common Sibling of Sin or even an administrative member working underneath him, but when you know someone as intimately as you know Copia, it’s not hard to tell that something is amiss. 

It started out with the way that he would talk to you and his co-workers. Nothing malicious, nothing berating or belittling, but rather a subtle pompousness. You knew it wasn’t intentional and that he wasn’t singling you out when speaking this way, but it was evident that he was feeling again like he had something to prove. Much like how he felt as Cardinal, but this time as someone who is trying to maintain respect rather than earn it. You worried he was going to preen his feathers until they fell off. 

Then came his possessiveness behind closed doors. Under the covers he wouldn’t stop his incessant rambling that you were his and only his, that no one else can have you and that he won’t let you be taken away from him like everything else. After a few nights of being pounded into the mattress while he repeats these mantras over and over, you were starting to form an inkling over what this may be about after all. 

-

The rising sun peeked out from the corner of the windowpane and directly into your bleary eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. Reaching your hand behind yourself you pat the bed to try and feel for the plush of Copia’s body, but your fingers meet nothing but crumpled linens. 

Hearing shuffling come from the ensuite bathroom, you roll yourself over as your eyes continue to adjust to the light. It’s after they do that you read the vintage alarm clock on his side of the bed: 6:00 A.M. Two whole hours before he is set to begin working. 

“...Copia?” You call out, sitting up and smoothing down your bedhead. 

Silence. 

With a heavy sigh, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and heave yourself up. It wasn’t like him to leave bed without at least a kiss to your sleeping form, let alone not respond to you when asked for. And why was he up so early? 

Determined to finally get an answer out of him, your hand is mid-reach for the bathroom door handle when it opens with enough force to knock you back. He barely meets your eyes as he brushes past you, smoothing down his coat as if he was the one inconvenienced. 

“Sorry, amore mio.” He mutters.

All you can do is gawk at him at this point. This is not Copia. You’ve been in love with every version of him, every different iteration of himself, but this? Who exactly was he right now?

He is stopped in front of a large mirror on the wall by the doorway, giving his appearance a once-over when you finally pipe up.

“What are you doing? Where are you going? Your shift doesn’t start until 8.”

His tone is, for the first time, dismissive as he responds. “I’ve been summoned to a meeting with the administration about my performance in my new… position.” 

You approach him from behind and move to place a hand on his shoulder but he is already moving toward the door, like he wasn’t even looking at you behind himself in the mirror. His hand is already on the doorknob but you are choosing persistence. 

You’re still following him as he now stands in the doorframe, ready to leave. “It couldn’t wait? You should be rest-”

“No, it couldn’t, tesoro. And I am already late.” The door is almost closed when you make out a faint “I will be back in an hour” before it shuts. 

Not even a kiss goodbye?

-

Each minute felt like years as you watched the clock with hawk-like attention, eyes flitting to the analog display each time it moved. It was no use trying to pass the time that way, though, and you instead opted for starting your morning routine and indulging in some light reading as you waited for Copia to return. If only you could focus on anything other than how plain ignorant he had just been. 

His journey throughout the ranks of the Clergy allowed you to witness a myriad of Copia’s emotions throughout the years you have been together. His steeled determination to show everyone that he was fit to be a Papa when he was still Cardinal, his palpable joy when he ascended, his frenzied nervousness over the possibility of not meeting expectations, and his despair at the loss of his title and mother. You’ve been with him through it all, a constant, a stable force that provides the reassurance and validation he craves. All this time and he’s never treated you like this.

That’s not to say it wasn’t understandable, what with him having a whole new set of responsibilities he must grow accustomed to, but that didn’t make it right. You fell for him because he was him, multi-faceted and sugar-sweet with the stars in his eyes. Not someone who could pretend you didn’t exist at the flip of a switch. You could sympathize with it, sure, but you don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing.

Your thoughts swirl and mangle while you stare blankly at the book in your lap when you hear the door open, signaling your lover’s return. His eyes are shining the same as they always do. He must have gotten good news. 

Your suspicions are confirmed when he closes the door behind him and clasps his hands together, moving toward where you still lay on the bed. “Cuore mio, they’re pleased!”

All you can do is stare at him with a neutral expression as he seems to be talking at you rather than to you. 

“Maybe this new position isn’t all bad. Maybe- maybe I can still make a name for myself this way, too!”

Returning your gaze to your book, you absentmindedly turn the page. “That’s great, Frater.” 

Now this got his attention. Even after taking on the new title you still always called him Copia. A reminder of who he truly is after all the lights go out. It was a calculated move on your part, deciding to dish out just a little of what he’s been serving you lately. If he actually wants to be Frater now, so be it. You knew it wasn’t the appropriate thing to do, but your frustration has clouded your judgement.

“Amore?” His face drops a little bit, as if he is trying to confirm what you said.

You double down. “I’m happy for you, Frater. It sounds like you’re settling in nicely.”

Copia doesn’t respond. His mouth hangs slightly agape, groping at words that struggle to come out.

Your book closes with a dull slap and you set it on your nightstand, taking your time with your movements. You sit to face him with a sigh.

“I don’t appreciate how you treated me this morning.”

His eyes search your face. “What eh…” They search some more. “What do you mean?”

He’s clueless, just as you thought. You don’t want to get petulant and give him a play-by-play of everything he either did or didn’t do so you decide to cut to the chase, eyes downcast.

“I can tell you’re taking your new job very seriously. That’s good. But if I’m not able to be there for you when you need it, when I feel like I’m being pushed away by someone who I only want to pull close… it builds resentment. And I don’t want to resent you. I won’t.” 

Copia looks like he is beginning to understand. His hand combs through his hair and scratches at his nape. “I’m sorry, tesoro. It was not my intention. But what is done cannot be undone, I know that.”

His hand comes to rest upon your thigh. “Can I make it up to you?”

Your gaze lifts to meet his own at the proposition, knowing at this point what he is insinuating.

He scoots closer to you, kicking his shoes off and reaching up to cup your face. He presses the first kiss he’s given you all day to your lips and you both sigh into it. More pecks are trailed down your cheek and jaw, moving further down your neck where they become wetter and open-mouthed. It almost feels like him again. Devoted and giving. 

You could lose yourself in the attention, finally feeling a semblance of satiation as he lavishes you with what you craved. But there’s something hidden beneath your surface, some part of you that wants to ruin him for what he’s been doing to you. He’s misbehaved. And misbehavior warrants punishment. 

He is beginning to hump your leg and you can feel his cock fatten against your thigh, the insatiable little devil, before you curl your fingers around the back of his suit collar and pull him away. A whisper of a whimper escapes him, aching to do what he believes will help you forgive him fully. 

“Don’t get too excited.” You push him back by his chest and he sits on his feet. He doesn’t say anything, though, just stares at you expectantly. Like he knows he shouldn’t speak. You glance over at the clock and see that there still are 50 or so minutes before the workday begins. And with how obedient he is being right now, such a rare sight as of late, you know you need to teach him a lesson he won’t forget. 

“Take your shirt off.”

His hands fly to his buttons, fumbling over his fingers and making haste. This simply won’t do.

“Slower.”

His breath catches in his throat at the command, it becoming all too real how your roles are reversing in front of his eyes. And he likes it. He’s been submissive for you before but there’s something about the connotations attached to the moment that goes straight to his cock. You’re very serious about this, and he is going to get it. He wants to get it.

His fingers tremble as he unbuttons his shirt, making it all the way to the fourth button before you interject. 

“Stop. C’mere.” You beckon him with your finger.

Copia crawls over on his hands and knees and kneels next to you. He already looks so pretty, all pink flush and doe-eyes.

“Show me your chest.”

His eyelids flare open for a second but, again, he obeys. Shyly he tugs open the sides of his dress shirt and bares himself to you, closing his eyes with a hum when he feels your fingers thread through his chest hair.

His delight is cut short when you curl your fingers into the hair and tug, where he yelps in pain and surprise at the sharpness of it all. His back arches and you place your other hand on the back of his neck, pulling his ear to your mouth. 

“You’ve been a bad boy, Frater, haven’t you?”

Your hand on his chest moves to pinch and pull at one of his nipples, purposefully overwhelming. All he can do is nod as his mouth dries up. 

“Yes, yes. I have been ah-AH! I’m so sorry!”

“Have been what?”

His cock jumps, now straining against his trousers. “A bad…” he lets out a shuddering gasp. “A bad boy.”

A hum of approval rumbles your chest as you move him to his hands and knees, pressing down on the back of his shoulders so that he arches his ass in the air and buries his face in the pillows. He whines a bit in anticipation. 

With your hand still pushing on his shoulder blades, you move back to the shell of his ear, your breath just a slight tickle. 

“Take off your belt and give it to me.”

He whines again and blindly messes with the buckle, finding the right grip and pulling it out of his pants. You notice his hand tremble as he presents it to you. There’s a pang of worry in your gut. Have you taken this too far? In an effort to soothe, you smooth warm palm down the beautiful arch of his back.

“What’s your color, baby?”

“Green. Please… please keep going.” He begs from where his face is smushed against the pillow. 

You fold the belt in half. “Good. Because you need to be taught a lesson.” 

“Amore, please, I said I was- oh!” His plea is ignored when your fingers hook into his waistband and pull them down along with his briefs. His bare ass jiggles from the force and it’s hard for you to stifle a moan at the sight. It looks flawless, all clear skin dusted with greying chestnut hair. Unblemished. Begging. Ready. 

Even on the time constraint you can’t resist teasing him a little bit, folding the belt in half and bringing the ends together before pulling them apart with force. The slap that results is enough to make him flinch with a quiet little gasp, fists clutching at the bedsheets. You take the tip of the folded belt and run it along each of his cheeks, teasing at his hole and undercarriage before bringing it down on the right side. He squeals. 

He tries to scramble to get up but your forearm is stronger than his feigned desperation to escape, pinning him down as you tower over him. A slippery one, he is.

“Oh, c’mon, Frater. I thought you knew better than this.” Three more slaps land in quick succession. You’re not holding back.

His ass is an irritated pink and his hands flail to find you, to try and convince you that he can comply while keeping his rear intact, but you’re feeling merciless. And… a little curious.

With your free hand you tug Copia’s pants down to his knees to reveal his now fully-hardened cock. And it is drooling. 

“Oh,” you jeer, nudging against his erection with the belt. “You like this, don’t you?”

If you could only see his face as he hides it in the pillow with an embarrassed sound. He’s anguishing, but he is also so, so aroused. His mind felt like it was falling away from him, his very spirit being eroded bit by bit into whatever you wanted him to be. But he could do that. Anything for you.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized he didn’t respond until your fist in his hair reminded him. It pulled him backward, painfully so, pushing his aged body toward its limit. 

“Answer me.” Another slap, right to his hole.

He cries out, eyes screwing shut when the tears begin to prick. The power behind the spank was enough to send a droplet of pre flinging onto the bed below him, his cock showing neglect.

“Yes! Yes, I do-” he sobs. “Please… touch me!” His eyes are big and wet as he looks up at you.

His body quivers as he cries, arching his back to show you just where he needs you most. You almost feel sorry for him.

You release his head and he nearly collapses, ass burning and cock aching with want. Welts are starting to rise on his cheeks along with blossoms of an angrier, deeper red that will surely turn purple by the evening. Shifting your positions on the bed you push him back and crawl in front of him, nestling into the pillows as he sits on his heels. All he can do is watch as you spread your legs in front of him, pajama shorts leaving little to the imagination.

“Oh, tesoro…” Copia reaches out, eager to please, but his hand is swatted away. 

“Nope. Maybe if you turn your act around…” your hand snakes in between your legs, “you can touch. But you- mmh, need to listen to instructions first.” You start rubbing yourself, savoring the way he whines and acquiesces anyway, hands still but cock twitching in interest. 

Pulling the crotch of your shorts aside you expose your sex to him, leaking with mutual arousal. You collect some of it on your fingers and hold it in front of his face. His eyes are locked on the way it webs between your index and middle and he swallows thickly. He wants to taste it. 

Bringing your hand back down to your crotch you coat yourself in all the mess, moaning softly at the wet, slippery noises that seem to hang in the air. He whines, eyes still locked on where you’re stroking yourself with rapt attention. He wonders if he could do the same. He’ll just move his hand a little bit… slowly…

“Don’t.” 

Your stare is almost as sharp as your tone, the command whipping Copia into shape all on its own. He isn’t happy about it, but his hand moves back. Your wish is his command. That doesn’t stop him from whining rather pathetically, though, as his tip continues to leak pre down his shaft. At least it’s some form of contact. 

You make him watch as you pleasure yourself, purposefully playing it up to get a rise out of him. “See what you’re missing out on, Frater?” You’re panting now, inching closer to release. “If only you weren’t in need of correction, maybe I’d let you have a taste… maybe even- mmm- let you fuck me.”

Copia’s tears are free-flowing now, and you can’t help but notice how his eye paint remains unsmudged. You’ll have to ask him about the brand later.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’ll be good for you- please! Let me be good for you.” 

He crawls toward you and you let him this time, still acutely aware of how much time is left before his workday starts. He’s hiccupping, trembling as he grabs onto your pajama shirt, cock bobbing as he moves. Right then and there, you see an opportunity and you seize it. The moment he’s close enough and you can feel his tears dripping onto you, you close your thighs around his cock.

“Ah-AH, CAZZO! Amore mio, per favore, ho bisogno di te!” His voice is cracking, raised in pitch. It’s beautiful.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “But there’s no way out of this, you know that.” You smooth a hand over his hair, comforting. “But I’ll grant you this…”

Copia waits wide-eyed and on bated breath for how you’re going to finish your sentence. Surely you’ve forgiven him by now. Surely you would be more lenient following his punishment…right?

“You may have my thighs.” 

Looking down at how his pre continues to drool from his tip onto your skin he mewls, a sad little noise in the back of his throat. He’s so embarrassed but he also needs this, needs to cum so bad that it hurts and your thighs looks so soft and he’s so desperate for anything at this point, any type of friction to-

“Go on, Frater. We don’t have all day.” 

His hips rock forward at the order and he winces. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to last, his hyper-sensitive cock being rubbed in all the right places as his hips cant and buck into your soft flesh. His tears have slowed, having been finally granted what he wants but his whimpers have grown tenfold. They’re less ashamed now, switched out for a more wanton cadence brimming with lust. He’s free to do as he pleases now, what he’s set his sights on since you started spanking him. 

“Tesoro, I-”

“Say thank you, Frater. Only good boys get to be inside. You’re lucky I’m letting you cum at all.”

This is the last final push Copia needs for his splintered mind to sever completely in half. He breaks, crying out equal parts bliss and agony while his hips stutter. 

“THANK YOU! OHH- THANK YOU! AH, AH!” His body seizes.

His cum is warm as it hits your belly, shooting out in thick ropes before petering out into a lazy flow down your thighs. He’s panting, mind absolutely melted into a post-orgasmic haze so powerful it felt dream-like.

“My, my, look at what a mess you’ve made.”

Copia’s eyes are somewhat vacant as he looks between you and his release. Words aren’t coming easily at the moment.

“Well? Clean it up.”

“Scusi?”

“You heard me. Don’t make me ask again.”

When he still doesn’t get the hint you take a fistful of hair at the base of his skull and push his head down so he is face to face with what’s on your belly. He whines pitifully with what little energy he has left and flattens his tongue on your abdomen, looking up at you for approval. 

“That’s it, baby, there you go…” You’re starting to drop the act now, knowing that all Copia needs now is a grounding presence to bring him back to reality. Stability would center him. The hand that once tortured him is now encouraging and sweet when you pet his hair. His tongue flicks and he laves over your cum and spit-slicked skin, sloppy but dedicated. He was so sweet your heart could burst at the seams. 

Satisfied, you wrap your arms around him and pull him up into your embrace. “Come here, Copia. I’ve got you.”

His lip quivers all over again as he finally hears you say his name again, falling deeper and deeper into you while he comes back down from the clouds. 

“You did so well for me, sweetheart.” You press a kiss to his hairline. “I’m so proud of you.”

His nose nuzzles deeper into your neck and he sighs dreamily at the way your hands rub his back. You tilt his head to look up at you. 

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm, yes.” This time he looks at you, not through you, eyes shining with gratitude. A comfortable silence falls over you both, slipping out of your roles and back into your own skin. Copia is the first to break it. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, my love, really-”

“No, no, it’s not.”

Your eyes are expectant. Not demanding him to continue, but letting him know that it’s okay to do so. 

“I know I haven’t been eh… the most attentive lover recently. You don’t deserve that.” He sucks in a deep breath and sighs. “I am a fool for not realizing it sooner.”

You carefully craft what you want to say next. “I know you’ve had a lot on your shoulders recently. Major life events like the ones you’ve experienced, especially in such quick succession, are enough to change anyone’s behavior. And you’re not immune to that.”

Copia’s eyes drift over to the clock. He has ten minutes until he needs to be out the door. You catch onto the urgency as he peels himself off of you and tucks himself back into his pants. His fingers don’t tremble as he re-buttons his shirt. Clearing his throat, he speaks again.

“That doesn’t change how it made you feel. I… I just want to feel important again, you know? Being Papa… people loved me. I felt admired. Appreciated. It’s no excuse, but-” 

You take his belt from the bed and carefully, reverently, pull it back through his belt loops and clasp it at the front. 

“You will always be important to me, Copia. Never forget that. You will never, and I mean never need to change yourself to gain my approval. I can’t speak for everyone here, but-”

A pull at your shirt collar cuts through your train of thought and Copia’s lips are on yours. It’s not a bruising kiss, but enough where you can still feel the lingering heat of the scene before. A wet smooch resounds when you break away and you reach up to brush back his tousled hair.

“So many years I have spent eh… being told what to be, having expectations to meet and shoes to fill…”

He walks towards the very same mirror he stood before just a couple hours ago, checking his appearance once again. His eyes couldn’t be torn away from your reflection even if they tried. You place a hand on his shoulder, watching as he smooths down his front. It’s not cocky, the way he checks his appearance. Self-assured, yes, but humble.

“Thank you, vita mia. For helping me. For everything.”

“You’re very welcome, handsome.” He flusters a bit and it’s adorable. There he is. 

He looks at the clock once more. Just a few more minutes. 

“I must be going now, amore.” He walks to the door. “Dinner tonight? I will make the best carbonara you have ever tasted, fidati di me!” 

The door opens and he is halfway out when you grab his wrist. He stays right where he is. 

“Just be you, Copia. The rest will fall into place.”

The smile he flashes you summons a swarm of butterflies. Unforgettably and unmistakably him.