...of finding our weakest spot

Elio is surprised when a stranger in a chunky knit sweater appears one day in December 1983.

He doesn't seem to speak italian and he isn't selling fish.

Read it here

He tried not to sound too disappointed as he nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“Elio, I didn’t say that. It’s just-” Oliver sighed and pushed his hair back in exasperation, and looked like he was about to say something else, but-

Look, some progress has been made on Red Shorts this week!

He’s screwing up his twenty-third attempt at a note when there’s a soft knock on his door.  Before he has a chance to answer, Oliver’s head appears around the door.  “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Because I have done the teensiest bit of work on Red Shorts!

"Well, was Liszt gay?"

"I don't think so, no, but this isn't about that, it's just…"

Oliver butted in. "So you think that Liszt, who was to the best of your knowledge a straight man, would have found such a sight as this distracting?"

I actually have something this week! One day Red Shorts will get finished. I promise.

Elio lets Oliver set a leisurely pace on his bike, and it's nice to spend time with him, without the distraction of his body on almost full display. Elio finds he can think more clearly, and Oliver seems more real. Like maybe the arrogant poser in the tight trunks is not who Oliver really is at all.

That's something to think about.

Elio likes this Oliver a lot. So it makes sense to let him in to something. To give something back, an apology for ogling him.

I posted the first half of a little thing called Red Shorts this week- click here if you missed it. Here's a snippet from the second half:

He tries to pull the trunks down over Oliver's erection but there's no way it'll fit. He can slip a couple of fingers into the drawstring- enough to pull the ends out and start to undo the tie.

"Why is this so tight?"

"It has to be. I'm worried that things will fall out otherwise."

"What things?"

Elio huffed and flopped back onto the grass. “Well I think he’s a dick.”

Marzia looked knowingly at her sister. “Oh, yeah, a dick. When I see him, the first thing I think is look at that dick.”

I am writing this thing about a red speedo. It is silly. It is going to have two shortish chapters and it is going to be finished soon. (I'm writing that down in the hope of making it true).

Elio pauses, and squeezes, and stops and thinks for a moment. Oliver's balls in his hand are unexpectedly… weighty. Shouldn't they feel more, sort of, contained, somehow? Huh. "Wait- Oliver? Are you wearing underwear? You're not, are you? Is that why you wore the longer shorts today?"

From (another) one of the little things I have on the go, but which doesn't have an end so it's looking like it might never get finished. I don't know.

Marzia grinned.  “I know it's kind of hard to miss, but you should just stop try to stop looking.  Avert your eyes.  We already know you want him to put it in your…"  She shrugged.  "You know."

Elio was clearly reluctant to ask, but he asked anyway.  "In my what?"

Chiara and Marzia spoke at the same time.  

"Mouth."

"Butt."

“They do say that being a parent keeps you busy,” says Elio, tugging on a strand of hair a little too hard.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.  I’m trying to be careful, but you’ve let paint dry in it and there’s no easy way to do this.”

Oliver sits still and lets Elio work on his hair.

What about you?  Do you want kids?”

“I don’t think so.  But I’m about 80% gay, not to mention young.  I don’t graduate for another year.  Maybe some time in the future I’ll think about kids more.  Did you always know you wanted kids?”