His response was everything Caesar couldâve hoped for. And more, in a way. The implication he suggested in an embarrassed mutter was⊠well. He was surprised to hear it. Pleased, even. Heâd had a clue â obviously â but hearing it out of his mouth was perhaps better than feeling it himself. Hmmm. Things to make note of for later.
But for now he simply smiled again, the ghost of his former laugh against his lips. It was almost frustrating how cute he was â how terribly smitten the Italian had come for him in what felt like such a short time! Did he even realize the amount of power he had? In time, maybe he would. Maybe heâd know and say it out loud. Tease him for it. But smile and say how happy it made him, too. Something warmed in his chest in knowing that he, himself, would like to see that realization through.Â
Deep rooted. Underneath his skin indeed.
With a small sigh, he shifted, reaching up to circle his arms around him and pull him down again. Closer. His chin found the top of his head, nestled in his hair. âOf course not. I am quite talented in my ways.â He said, his voice ever quiet though the confidence from before remained. In both his tone and action if he didnât want to further disturb the moment that was to be created just now. The silence returned, briefly; he heard nature outside again, briefly entertaining the idea of a cigarette later. The night seemed nice for it, especially following the day theyâd shared. It seemed neither of them could have predicted this.
And that, in itself, was something.
â⊠Tesoro?â He mused softly, shifting again to better look down at him. â⊠Did you ever think this would happen?â
Arms trap you again, firmly wrapped around you, and itâs almost too easy to just let him pull you back down. You shift and squirm to uncross your arms and just.. wiggle your hands carefully under Caesarâs back, so itâs sort of like youâre hugging back. Without actually exerting all the effort to, because.. well, your arms would probably fall asleep under him. Which sounds considerably unpleasant, you have to admit.
âDonât be so cocky,â your face is sort of mushed, gently and kind of actually comfortably, against his chest so the words are a little muffled. But theyâre understandable, at least, and your head turns so your cheek is resting there instead, blue eyes drifting shut. It felt nice. Really nice. You can feel yourself getting sleepy at this point, too-- mainly because of how safe and content you currently feel, but.. well, it was getting late too.
You donât want to move. You donât want to detach yourself from him.
Your eyes donât open throughout the gentle silence that takes over between the two of you and you actually almost manage to drift off into a comfortable sleep-- until Caesar speaks up again. A simple âmm?â is what you offer in response to at least let him know youâre listening.
But he asks a question and youâre both embarrassed by it and entirely against the idea of opening your mouth end exerting effort to talk. âNn,â that was almost sort of a real word, which was an alright start, âThinking and hoping are two different things.âÂ
There you go, actual words.Â
âI didnât,â you trail off, shifting to snuggle closer, âthink it would.â Maybe, for a while, you hoped it would-- but that was all it had been. Hope. Youâd sort of given up before itâd started, on your end. Being under the impression it was fake, that none of it really mattered, that you shouldnât really be attracted to him.. well. It was hard.













