#ruggiulia

Ruggieri thrust into the impossibly tight walls. Despite the earliest moments of resistance, now it was sweet and tender and eagerly welcoming.

The flesh yielded to him, his hardness dragging into the heat and out, fast, so fast, to feel it clench around him. Every time his pace stuttered, it was due to the red-hot pleasure washing down his spine, making his sight hazy, and the ache building up inside his lower regions all the more urgent. Edge of the mattress clenched firmly in one hand, he moved not unlike an animal, and who would blame him? The momentum taking away his sense and his mind’s sharp clarity. He did not dare to stop, as if the only thing he knew how to do was rutting inside a warm body. The magic would vanish into thin air if he lost his rhythm, or if he paid too much mind to anything but the tight hole where his dick was stubbornly buried.

It looked like she couldn’t shut her mouth. The moans that liberally filled the bedroom sounded exactly like the soundtrack of any remarkable brothel, which most men would take both as an incentive and a confidence boost. It was a sort of compliment Ruggieri’s ears were well-acquainted with, and his eye didn’t generally care for modesty. And yet he just wished knocking her out were a possibility. The sound was boring: it just felt off, like splitting a person open and finding a stomach where the lungs should be. He decided to fix the problem before it affected his boner. She bit down on the dollar bills he dangled over her mouth; literally.

The one he’d chosen was beautiful, as the way she pleased him was skillful. Nothing new.

She had a beautiful mouth, painted dark red. And that was about all Ruggieri would push himself to remember about her, or their meeting some hours prior the current predicament, for his dick started throbbing. He demanded release. And he demanded it now.

His phone chose that moment to start buzzing.

Of course.

His heart sunk to the bottom of his ribcage as his eyes skid over the neat white letters on the screen, and he didn’t even give himself half a second to process them into the correct order. His hand reached for the device.

“Good evening, Beauty. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“It’s 5 PM in my current location,” a level, harmonious voice responded.

Ruggieri let out a laugh. The woman moaned around his money. “It’s 5 PM here too. What a coincidence.”

“I see you still have a terrible sense of humor.”

“I would never make you undergo my sense of humor, Julia. I save that for my business partners.”

“Oh? I’m going to run my business at an appropriate distance then.”

“Care to tell me what you’re doing in Haiti?”

She came. Ruggieri clicked his tongue as her body went suddenly too pliant.

“Having a look around. You’ve been paying a little too much attention to this island, one ought to wonder if they missed something,” Julia reproached. Perhaps he wanted to suggest he still had a handful of cards to play, which amused Ruggieri to no end.

“Suit yourself. I’ve got plenty of time for visits.”

“We’ll see.” There was a pregnant pause on his end of the line. Julia was probably wondering if he should end the call. “I suppose you’re busy with a special visitor now, aren’t you?”

It was too much. Ruggieri’s pistoning hips slowed down, his sighs grew heavier as he spent himself inside the dazed visitor lying on his sheets. He extricated himself from her languid embrace and took a drag from the cigar on the nightstand. He let his eyes slide closed with a victorious smirk, though he wasn’t sure what he’d won this time, and discarded the used condom. “Yeah, but I always have time for you, babe.”

“Revolting. I wasn’t interested in listening to that.”

Ruggieri chuckled audibly. He knew Julia would hear that as loud as a cannonball. He gestured at the woman behind him to gather up her clothes, noting how she dragged her limbs across the bed and her pale blonde hair touched the small of her back. God, he was such a splendid lay. A true giver.

Julia’s memory only needed some refreshing, sometimes.

“I thought you missed me,” Ruggieri told him instead, with the slightest note of condescending irony. Julia could read him even if they were communicating via morse code.

This was a life made of facts, and Ruggieri was a man of facts. Number one is that it was hot, almost unbearably so, in this corner of the world. Number two is that everything on the island belonged to Ruggieri, whether they knew it or not, and it was one of the hottest days of the year. Number three is that Julia had called him while he was fucking a pretty thing made of candy and lipstick, and despite the sheer fortuity Ruggieri couldn’t help but feel like Julia was messing with his head. Because that’s what Julia did, isn’t it?

That’s number four.

He took in the intermittent signal which notified him that the call had been interrupted. How dismaying. He couldn’t even tell Julia how he’d missed him, even if it was false only to some degree.

*

No one could say Ruggieri lacked adaptability. Entire kingdoms could rise or fall following this simple pantomime. Adjust and exploit. Rinse, repeat.

His body was sun-kissed, toned and well-adapted; Ruggieri had grown accustomed to the Haitian heat in a heartbeat, and promptly made it his personal paradise, headquarters, and safehouse. He administered his affairs from there on the four months he spent on the island, and during his time away he kept a close eye on it nonetheless, reminiscing like a lovesick lover.

His eyes spotted Julia as if he had them for nothing else, before he could even get off the vehicle and walk across an uneven pebble road.

Julia didn’t turn around, his figure decidedly well dressed and kind of out-of-context in the midst of a slum area. Locals had their stares nailed to him as they walked by, but he stood unmoving before a school, looking every bit as filthy rich as he was in crocodile boots and a white designer hat straight out of a smoking lounge from the ‘20s. The skirt was a sophisticated touch, to keep up the appearance of an all too curious tourist. He had to show off, no matter where he was.

Ruggieri took off his sunglasses once he approached, regarding the soft curves and hollows of Julia’s silhouette in one swoop. “This is a poor choice of location to talk business, Julia.”

Julia laughed, empty and rehearsed. His laugh never changed at all. “For once I must agree. This is the middle of nowhere. I do understand what’s on your mind, what you hope to gain from being a saint to these poor souls. They don’t know any better.”

“I’m just rebuilding what the government doesn’t have the means to. The United States hardly fund projects for the most populated cities, but I won several contracts this year and I intend to make them come to fruition. Nearly every company on the island ultimately ties back to me. Now, that isn’t what this is about. What you’re looking at was a donation.”

“My, my.” Julia stared at him seraphically. “A benefactor who loves to brag.”

Ruggieri couldn’t take his eyes away. Julia’s milky skin looked frail under the morning sun, like expensive porcelain, and his chiseled lips were not painted any color that wasn’t his own, though not nearly as pale. Ruggieri, unlike the rest, knew full well what Julia looked like once his skin came off.

Then Julia gave his pocket watch a glance. “Ah, just in time…”

“In time for what?”

Just as Julia had anticipated, came the sound of a bell ringing. They both shifted their gaze to the yard in front of the school building as a load of children flowed out of the main doors. Ruggieri didn’t count many, just about fifty.

“These numbers are bleak for a primary school.” Julia had made the same assessment.

“There isn’t a transportation system in this area. Not every parent can afford to walk a kid to school every morning,” Ruggieri explained. “Moreover, schools are few and far from each other. See, Julia, if - and I say if - one has a certain amount of influence, which can be very useful to third parties in case something happens, the population’s favor may prove crucial in such a predicament.”

One corner of Julia’s mouth tugged upwards into a smirk. Ruggieri was sure it would taste wicked. “That’s quite the investment.”

The children played without realising the weight of time, unbothered by the presence of the pair next to the small fence that enclosed the playground. Groups of them played tag or skipped the rope, and occasionally there were conflicts over territory, though the courtyard was big enough to contain all of them. The result was a total confused ruckus.

Julia’s face was guarded but he examined the playground with uncanny interest.

“Would you like me to give you a tour?”

Julia looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Don’t speak so mindlessly. I do not care how many schools you build and how many countries you buy, so long as Galdoune benefits from those numbers.”

“You do have a strange way of not caring, since you went through the trouble of meeting me here,” Ruggieri all but whispered. He’d smoked his morning cigar while driving, which made his voice husky and deep like a whiff of ocean wind. “Or perhaps, the days we can be apart are indeed as limited as the days we can be together.”

He received Julia’s homicidal glare with open arms and a bright-toothed grin. If the next day Julia would be gone, Ruggieri would not fail to remind him time and time again - that he would do anything, truly anything, if Julia had so much as said “yes.”

“Ruggieri....”

A curt “yes” was enough, even as the unspoken weight of it between them had claws and teeth, it spilled and gnawed and consumed.

“... Look.”

Julia’s eyes shifted meaningfully to the side, and only then did Ruggieri notice the smallest children he’d ever seen standing on the other side of the fence. Primary schoolers were… short. Their heads looked like big balloons, attached to scrawny bodies by a string, as their brown skin was puffy where an adult’s was taut. Ruggieri felt slightly uncomfortable though he had no reason to; they weren’t doing much except staring.

A little girl was sitting on the fence, very close to Julia, particularly engrossed by his white skirt. She looked up, biting her lip, but said nothing.

Ruggieri chuckled, which earned him a blank stare from an apparently very collected Julia.

“If you’d be so kind, make this thing go away,” the man said, accompaining his words with a half-hearted shooing gesture. His vaguely disgusted face as he did was utterly adorable, Ruggieri didn’t even see why he should contain himself; he laughed uproariously in delight, making a few of those disproportioned heads turn. Eventually, a teacher noticed the commotion. She thanked Ruggieri profusely for the visit, and he reassured her that he was merely checking in, to see if the school was fairing well. Children were curious, it couldn’t be helped, and he had a weak spot for the creatures anyway. To further prove his point he ruffled a young boy’s hair, departing from the teacher with kind, charming words of praise.

The little girl - who had apparently taken a liking to Julia - observed them intently from behind her teacher’s legs, but didn’t seem too happy to go.

Ruggieri silently gestured and, after a moment’s confused hesitation, Julia gave her a small wave. The sight felt familiar, warm, like Julia had done the same thing a hundred times before and he was merely repeating a motion with innate gentleness and grace. Ruggieri nearly felt appalled.

But he didn’t miss a thing.

As they walked to the car, Ruggieri had an arm thrown over his shoulders and Julia didn’t shrug him off. He felt like he could fuck Julia for hours if he so demanded, and hopefully he would.

Oh, Ruggieri could eat that grace of his raw and leave it in shambles.

“Thanks for playing along,” he spoke low, letting his breath caress Julia’s neck. “You’re not actually good with kids, are you? Did you put on a pretty little show for me?”

“Oh dear, you’re misled. I loathe children. Most importantly, where can we discuss a certain matter without being overheard?”

Ruggieri smirked. “You’ll be a guest of mine. Stay?”