You are a translator for the Ministry. You receive a letter summoning you to the Abbey for a project involving an ancient diary with a mysterious author, but you find yourself wishing you were back home. That is, until you meet the charming Papa Emeritus the Fourth.
Collabs
XXXMas At the Ministry - four steamy holiday smuts with our beloved Papas! (NSFW - MDNI)
Day 1: Naughty Presents by @copias-sewer-rat (Primo x afab!reader)
Day 2: Ungrumpify Your Papa by me! (Secondo x afab!reader)
Day 3: Mistletoe'd by @ghulehunknown (Terzo x afab!reader)
Day 4: Treasure Hunt by @bupia (Copia x afab!reader)
Happy new year!! Miss & love y’all ❤️ my resolution is to start writing again, even if it’s a little drabble or oneshot here and there, and to not care if it’s cringey. I miss the comfort of writing Ghost stuff and I think about it a lot.
secondo has a heart bursting with love he doesn't allow himself to share and the only person he truly hates is nihil (and by extension himself). he'd rather be alone forever than turn out like his father and so he keeps pushing people away, keeps them at arms length, doesn’t allow himself to care. he's been hurt, he’s been used and discarded by his own church, started to cope in unhealthy ways. but what he needs is someone who accepts him, trusts him, doesn’t allow him to push them away, loves him unconditionally beyond the papa mask, and he‘ll unfold like a flower when the sun rises in the morning, slowly but in the most beautiful shapes and colors.
Pas de Deux: Ballet Teacher Copia x Fem!Reader | Pt. 1
Summary: With just a few days left until the eagerly anticipated performance of “Romeo and Juliet” in the ballet, the class is surprised when their usual teacher is replaced by a man named Copia, who takes the charge of the final rehearsal before the grand premiere.
Words: 14.772
Warnings: Part one is composed by Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. Chapter 3, 4 and 5 coming next week. No Warnings for this part, only for next week.
Part 1 (Ch. 1 & 2) available on AO3
tag list | tip-jar
PART 2
As you arrived at the studio, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The upcoming ballet presentation was only days away, casting a shadow of excitement and nerves over everything. The thought of stepping into the role of Juliet filled you with anxiety, as you knew that embodying such character demanded nothing less than your absolute best on stage. But you knew you couldn't afford to let your nerves get the best of you.
With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and focused your mind, pushing aside the lingering doubts and insecurities. There was no room for hesitation or distractions.
Heading towards the dressing room, you exchanged smiles and nods with your colleagues before approaching your locker. With a soft click, the locker disengaged and you swung the door open. Peeling off your shirt and sweatpants, you revealed the sleek lines of your leotard. Adjusting it, you settled onto the bench, reaching into your bag, retrieving your ballet slippers. You slipped them onto your feet, tying the ribbons securely.
Clad in your dance attire, you stepped out into the studio, smiles and waves were exchanged once again as you made your way to the corner of the room for your warm-up routine, until your attention suddenly drawn to a newcomer entering the studio, a man in tight, all-black dance attire.
As all eyes, including yours, turned towards the enigmatic figure — he carried himself with a quiet confidence, effortlessly commanding attention as he sets his bag down in the corner and assumes his place in front of the mirrors.
As you study him, you got struck by his distinctive features – of average height, with a mop of brown hair framing his face adorned with scattered freckles. His facial features are equally striking; sunken eyes lend depth to his gaze, while a meticulously groomed mustache adorns his upper lip. Sideburns trail down from his temples to his jawline, framing his face with an air of old-world elegance. But it's his gaze that truly captivates you; his eyes, one a mesmerizing shade of green, the other an unusual hue that defies description, reminiscent of pale opal, holding a certain intensity.
"Ciao, buonasera a tutti," he began. His voice, a soft and melodic cadence, carried a hint of an accent delicately veiled beneath his English. "My name is Copia. I'm a teacher, and I'll be substituting for Conti for a few days."
Eyes flickered with silent conversations exchanged between dancers, seeking understanding. Before anyone could voice their questions or skepticism, Copia continued.
“There’s a certain... magia, that each dancer brings to a studio, a unique energia that I’m eager to witness here,” he remarked, his gaze sweeping across the room. “I’ve heard exceptional things about the talents in this studio, and I’m honored to share this space with such dedicated artists," he said with a gentle smile.
Suddenly, a hand elevated in front of Copia. Tilting his head toward the raised hand, with a subtle gesture, he welcomed the question. "Mr. Copia," one of the dancers, inquired. "What happened to Mr. Conti?"
"Mr. Conti is taking a temporary leave due to a personal matter that requires his attention," he started.
Another hand went up. "Mr. Copia, as we're close to our theater performance date, will there be any changes to the date?"
"Non c'è bisogno di preoccuparsi," he reassured, "The date of your performance remains the same. Any more questions?"
You raised your hand. Copia's gaze shifted in your direction, and he gracefully adjusted his pose, signaling for you to speak. "Mr. Copia, right?" you inquired, noting his confirming nod. "Great, so, my question is: do you even know what we are set to perform?"
"Romeo e Giulietta, sì?" he responded, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Yes, but, do you know who is playing who?" you inquired, walking to the middle of the studio. "Mr. Conti—"
"Mr. Conti already told me about everything," Copia interjected. "Tuttavia, if you're uncertain about my knowledge, perhaps you'd prefer to tell me about it or demonstrate it for me."
"What? Me?" you inquired, a little nervous.
Copia nodded, making his way toward you, maintaining eye contact. "Sì, so I can have a notion about how you all are prepared for the performance," he declared, gesturing with his hands to clear space as the other dancers made room for you. "Who are you going to portray at the ballet?" he inquired, his brow arching inquisitively as he leaned against the nearby ballet barre.
"Juliet."
"Giulietta, perfetto," he acknowledged with a nod, a small smile playing on his lips. "And you're training alongside the other dancers for the performance?"
"Yes," you replied, nodding in confirmation.
"Perfetto," he nodded in understanding, pushing off the barre to stand upright. "So, you won't have any trouble showing me," he teased lightly, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he extended his hand for you to join him on the dance floor.
With a playful chuckle, you stepped forward to join him, deliberately choosing not to take his offered hand. This prompted Copia to smoothly withdraw his hand, tucking it behind his back with grace. As you faced one another, you caught a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. With a slight, inviting gesture, he encouraged you to make the first move.
You positioned yourself, preparing to execute the first step with precision. Copia remained where he was, observing you intently for a few moments before gracefully returning to the mirrors. Pausing briefly, he glanced over his shoulder, meeting your eyes as if seeking your approval. With a subtle nod, you signaled your readiness, and Copia proceeded to cue the music, setting the stage for your dance.
With graceful movements, you began to demonstrate the steps, the music of Prokofiev's ballet filling the air around you. You executed a series of precise pirouettes, your movements fluid and effortless. You weren't focused on it, but Copia couldn't tear his eyes away as you moved with grace and poise. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as you lost yourself in the graceful movements, each gesture infused with emotion.
You extended your arms, fingertips reaching towards the heavens with a sense of longing. With each step, each arabesque, your feet moved with precision across the floor, you spun and twirled, arched your back and tilted your head with a soft expression. With a final, breathtaking leap, you landed softly, your body poised in perfect stillness as the music faded into silence.
As the dance came to an end, Copia offered a slow clap, his eyes gleaming with certain amusement. "Molto bene," he commented, his voice carrying a subtle hint of admiration. "I'm impressed, Giulietta."
You returned his smile, a flicker of pride in your eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Copia," you replied. "I've been practicing."
Copia's smile widened, and he nodded. "It shows," he remarked, a hint of challenge in his tone. Copia's gaze held yours for a moment longer before he averted it to the other dancers. "Does anyone have any questions before we begin?" he asked, his voice projecting authority.
A hesitant voice spoke up from the back. "Yes, just one," the dancer said, stepping forward. "How long will you be with us?"
Copia paused for a moment, considering. "I'll likely be here until the day of the performance at the grand theater," he answered.
"Does that mean you'll be traveling with us?" you asked.
Copia nodded affirmatively. "Sì, sì," he replied with a slight smile. "Are there any further questions?" He inquired, scanning the room. "No? Eccellente," he expressed, smiling. "So, let's start, sì? On your positions for the warm-up."
With Copia's words, you and the dancers scattered across the spacious room, each finding a spot before the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined one wall. The room quickly filled with the soft thuds of ballet slippers against the marley floor, punctuated by the occasional sigh or whisper of fabric.
Copia stood at the front, his presence commanding yet encouraging. As he navigated through the room, his gaze swept the room, offering nods of approval or gentle corrections. You diligently worked on your own, stealing glances in the mirror not just to check your form but to catch glimpses of Copia.
As you concentrated on your reflection in the mirror, you made a conscious effort to divert your attention away from Copia. There wasn't a particularly compelling reason to keep your gaze on him, after all. As you lowered your eyes to your feet, lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice Copia's approach. His footsteps were silent as he closed the distance between you. Suddenly, you felt a gentle tap against your lower back, and his voice, close to your ear, pulled you out of your reverie.
"Straighten here, more power from your core," he advised softly, his touch fleeting.
You widened your eyes, suppressing the urge to let out a startled sound, and instinctively straightened your posture. As you did, you heard a slow, approving hum resonate close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. As he walked away, you found yourself unable to look away, stunned by the unexpected action.
Copia made his rounds, moving among the students, offering guidance on their posture and movements, until he returned to the front of the room. As he turned, your eyes were still on him, and before you could divert your gaze, he caught it. Your cheeks flushed with warmth, betraying your embarrassment. Copia offered you a discreet, knowing grin before turning his attention to the other dancers.
Copia clapped his hands twice, the sound echoing crisply in the room. "Alright, everyone, gather around," he called out.
You and the other dancers gradually slowed your movements, turning your attention towards him converging in a semi-circle. You chose a spot near the edge, and then, his gaze briefly found yours once more. This time, however, you quickly averted your eyes before him, feeling a knot of embarrassment from earlier tightening in your stomach. Determined to regain your composure, you focused on the dancers around you.
"We’ve had a good start this morning, but now it's time to focus on the choreography," Copia announced, his eyes scanning the group before pausing momentarily on you, a unknown smile on his lips. "Today, we're going to drill the sequences that Conti told me it needed the most work, and I expect everyone to give their best. Remember, it's not just about the steps, but the emotion. Let's bring Romeo e Giulietta to life!" he exclaimed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I'm already familiarized with our Giulietta," Copia mentioned, his gaze briefly meeting yours again before he surveyed the rest of the room. "Tuttavia, Who's the Romeo? Where is he?"
"He hasn't arrived yet," responded one of the dancers.
"Hmm, that's... unfortunate," Copia murmured, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of mild frustration. "Giulietta!"
Nervousness fluttered through you at Copia's call. "Yes?" you responded, stepping forward slightly.
"We might need to improvise a bit until Romeo arrives. Would you be comfortable running through some of your solos? Or perhaps," he paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face, "Would you agree with me standing in for him temporarily? Just in case."
"I... that would be... I mean, if you're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble," you managed to say, your words tumbling out in a rush of excitement and nervousness. "That sounds like a good idea, I think," you agreed, the idea increasing the bundle of nerves in your stomach.
Before Copia could speak, the studio door swung open abruptly, and one of the dancers stepped inside. The newcomer was none other than your friend—the Romeo in the upcoming performance, Anton.
"I'm so sorry, I'm late," Anton apologized, slightly out of breath. "Mr. Conti, I—"
Copia's expression shifted, his brows knitting together. "I'm afraid Mr. Conti isn't here," Copia interjected before Anton could finish his sentence. "Piacere di conoscerti, I'm Mr. Copia. And you are?"
Anton lingered near the door momentarily, his gaze sweeping across the room until it found yours, offering you a small, sweet smile. "I'm Anton," he replied, moving away from the entrance. "I know I was supposed to be here much earlier, but I had some prob—"
Copia lifted a hand, effectively halting Anton's explanation. "Mr. Anton, we can discuss this after class. For now, could you please change into your ballet slippers and join us?"
Anton headed towards a corner of the room, the strap of his bag still slung over his shoulder. The room fell into a respectful silence, all eyes—including yours and Copia's—focused on him as he efficiently removed the baggy clothes he'd been wearing to reveal the ballet attire beneath. With practiced ease, he slipped off his street shoes and pulled on his ballet slippers.
Once fully changed, Anton made his way over to the semi-circle and stopped right beside you. Without hesitation, he took your hand in his, fingers intertwining. You turned your face to look up at him, meeting his gaze. He offered you a soft smile, one that you couldn't help but reflect back at him.
Copia cleared his throat slightly, a subtle gesture that pulled attention back to him. "Mr. Anton, may I ask, what role are you playing in this ballet?"
Anton's response was both proud and gentle, "I am her Romeo," he said, nodding towards you with a warm smile.
For a moment, a subtle change flickered across Copia's expression, almost imperceptible. "Given that you've just arrived, Mr. Anton, I think it might be best for you to start with some warm-up exercises in the corner," Copia suggested, his tone of voice regaining its usual authority. "The rest of the dancers, excluding Giulietta and her Romeo, per favore, make your way to the dance floor and let's begin today's practice."
The dancers began to gracefully position themselves across the studio floor. Meanwhile, you and Anton retreated to a designated corner. routines. The sound of music filled the air, and Copia counted off the beats, his voice clear over the melody. You couldn't help but steal a glance over your shoulder towards him. He was focused on the dancers, his attention dedicated to their movements.
As Anton began his warm-up, stretching his limbs, he glanced at you, a hint of apology in his tone. "Sorry, I didn't want to make you wait for me to be able to practice," he said, extending into a hamstring stretch. "So, what's the deal with... Copia?"
As Copia's eyes met yours, you immediately turn back to Anton, watching him from one stretch to another, "Ah, he’ll be filling in for Mr. Conti for a few days, it seems."
Anton transitioned into a lunge, his focus partially on his form and partially on the conversation. "Why?" he asked, deepening the stretch.
"I'm not sure," you admitted. "He mentioned something about Conti having other obligations, so he will be taking over for a while."
"That's unusual," Anton commented, pausing between stretches, looked at you curiously. "And how have things been going with... this sudden change?"
"Well, fine I guess. He answered some questions, asked me to dance," Anton raised a brow as you said it. "Don't worry, it was because I asked him if he knew what we are doing here and I think he felt a little... confronted? Maybe? And then he asked for a demonstration," you chuckled. "Also, before you arrived he actually offered to dance with me, believe it or not. But then you arrived just in time," you said, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.
Anton raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he resumed his warm-up with a series of arm circles. "Oh? What? He did what?" he prodded, his tone light but probing. "Is he trying to steal you from me?" he inquired with a playful tone.
"Jerk!" you chuckled at his question. "It was just in case you didn't show up. But you are here, so it is fine, really. I'm chill about it. No one is trying to take me away from you, Romeo." you responded, shrugging nonchalantly. "Also... Mr. Copia seems..." you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder, your eyes drifting across the dancers swirling behind you. As your gaze sought Copia, you found him in a corner, his attention fixed on you and Anton, "...capable enough." He gave you a small smile, and turned away.
"Hey, could you help me?" Anton asked.
You turned once again to Anton, moving closer to assist him, you adjusted his posture for the correct alignment. “So, why were you late today?”
Anton sighed. "It was my partner again," he admitted, shaking his head slightly. "We had another... misunderstanding."
"Still having trouble?" you asked sympathetically.
“Yeah,” he admitted with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “It seems like it’s always something. But I don’t want to bring that drama into the studio."
“No problem,” you reassured him, offering a supportive smile. “You know you can talk to me. Plus, we’ve got to look out for each other here, right?”
Before Anton could reply, Copia's voice cut through the air, “Giulietta,” he called out, drawing your attention immediately. You turned to see him standing with an expectant look on his face. “Is Romeo done with his warm-up?”
“Yes, I’ve done a... quick warm-up,” he said, his eyes flicking between you and Copia. “And you can call me Anton,” he added with a polite, firm tone.
Copia’s eyes lingered on Anton for a moment, analyzing his stance and demeanor. “Molto bene, Anton,” he said. “If you’re ready, let’s start the routine," he turned his gaze back to you, “let’s see how well Romeo can keep up with you.”
"I assure you, Mr. Copia," Anton began, his voice steady, "we can keep up with each other."
Copia regarded him with a hint of skepticism, his gaze sharp. "Is that so, Mr. Anton?" he countered, his tone challenging.
Anton met his gaze squarely. "Absolutely," he affirmed, the confidence in his voice unwavering.
"Bene, let's see it," he replied, a playful challenge underlying his words.
Copia made a subtle gesture towards the sound system. With a click, the studio was filled with the haunting melody of a familiar piece. Without a word, Anton extended a hand towards you, his eyes locking with yours in a silent invitation. With a nod, you accepted, your fingers intertwining with his as you both stepped onto the center of the dance studio.
You and Anton moved gracefully to the center of the studio, aligning yourselves side by side. As the music enveloped the room, you began to dance in perfect harmony, your movements synchronized with Anton's as if you were two halves of a whole.
However, the grace of the moment was shattered when Anton attempted the grand jeté but stumbled, falling on the floor. Copia's commanding voice cut through the music, halting the dance. Reacting swiftly, you sprinted in Anton's direction, concern etched on your face.
As Copia approached Anton in silence, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his response. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, filled with concern. "Are you alright, Anton?" he asked, his tone soft.
Anton winced slightly as he tried to stand up, but managed a weak nod. "I'm... I'm fine," he murmured, offering a faint apology.
"Just take a moment," Copia said, his voice soothing. Turning to you, he gestured for you. "Could you help me, Giulietta?" he asked.
You nodded in response to Copia's request, stepping forward to lend Anton a hand. As you reached out to help him up, your fingers brushed against Copia's, sending a gentle jolt through you. With a combined effort, you and Copia helped Anton to his feet, ensuring he was steady before releasing him.
"Thank you," Anton mumbled, offering a small, sheepish smile as he regained his balance. "And I'm sorry, Mr. Copia," he added.
Copia shook his head gently. "There's no need to apologize, Mr. Anton," he reassured. "The important thing is, are you feeling alright? Can you continue dancing?"
Anton's nod confirmed to continue, and Copia moved gracefully to the center of the studio. His presence commanded the attention of all the dancers, including yourself. As he positioned himself, you furrowed your brows, curious about his intentions. However, before you could even begin to speculate, Copia spoke.
"The grand jeté," he began, his voice steady. "Remember to push off from both feet simultaneously, allowing your momentum to carry you forward."
As he spoke, he demonstrated the sequence, his movements fluid and precise. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, his words and gestures drawing you in, as if mesmerized by his action. You were captivated.
As Copia completed the demonstration, he turned to Anton, a smile playing on his lips. "Maintain control and balance throughout the jump," he reminded him, his tone encouraging yet firm. "Now, let's see, give it a try."
Anton stepped forward eagerly, ready to execute the grand jeté sequence under Copia's watchful eye. As he prepared to leap, Copia interrupted with a gentle hand on their shoulder, adjusting their posture slightly.
"Keep your back straight and engage your core," he advised, his voice calm and reassuring. "And don't forget to fully extend your legs as you jump."
Anton, with a nod of determination, drew in a deep breath and executed the sequence. Copia observed attentively as he faltered, prompting him to give a subtle nod before stepping forward.
"You see," he began. "You're doing good, but, your landing is too heavy," Copia pointed out. "Focus on landing softly and smoothly to maintain your momentum."
Anton nodded, absorbing Copia's advice, and attempted the sequence once more, this time landing with greater finesse. Copia's eyes gleamed with approval as he nodded in satisfaction.
"That's much better," he praised, his voice resonating with encouragement. "Remember," he started with a playful grin, "imagine you're soaring through the air like a graceful swan, not a clumsy goose!"
"Thank you, Mr. Copia," Anton acknowledged gratefully. "I'll work on it."
“I’m sure you will,” Copia began, glancing in your direction, “Giulitta needs her Romeo, sì?” as he said it, he gave you a small smile.
You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at Copia's words, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. But before you could respond, he averted his gaze, addressing the entire class instead.
"Va bene, tutti," he announced, his voice authoritative yet gentle. "Let's take a quick break. Stretch your legs, grab some water, and we'll resume shortly."
As Copia called for the break, the dancers dispersed, heading towards the dressing room to rest and refresh. Just as you were about to follow suit, you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder and a familiar weight leaning against you. It was Anton, his sigh heavy with exhaustion. You shared a small chuckle, reciprocating the embrace by encircling your arm around his waist, and together you made your way towards the dressing room.
As you passed by Copia, you couldn't resist stealing a final glance in his direction. It was a fleeting, almost instinctual movement, you caught a glimpse of him focused on his bag, his attention elsewhere. Satisfied, you redirected your gaze towards the door ahead, determined to put him out of your mind for now.
Entering the dressing room, you and Anton parted ways. Anton drifted off to converse with some other dancers, while you made your way to your locker.
At your locker, you take a moment to catch your breath. You retrieve a water bottle from your bag, taking a few sips to rehydrate. Leaning against the locker door, you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself a moment of peacefulness before you quietly slipped out. You felt an inexplicable urge to return to the studio, your steps guided by an unspoken impulse. As you entered, your feet led you directly to where Copia stood, his silhouette still near his bag. Lost in contemplation, he appeared absorbed in his own world, retrieving a bottle of water and taking a sip, his gaze distant and thoughtful.
Approaching him, you cleared your throat softly, causing him to startle slightly and turn his attention to you. His eyes widened in surprise, but a warm smile quickly spread across his face as he greeted you.
"Ah, Giulietta," he said, his voice soft yet filled with warmth. "Is there something wrong?" he replied, his voice soft but attentive.
"I just wanted to say... thank you," you said, feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "For how you handled Anton earlier. It was really... kind of you."
Copia's expression softened, and he offered you a warm smile. "Ah, it was nothing," he said modestly. "Just part of the job."
You shifted slightly, crossing your arms. "Well, anyway," you continued, mustering up a small smile. "I just wanted to let you know."
Copia's smile widened, and he nodded appreciatively. "Grazie, Giulietta," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter. "I appreciate it."
You nodded in acknowledgment and turned to head back to the dressing room, but before you could take the first step, Copia's voice drew your attention with a subtle clearing of his throat.
"It's just a pity," he remarked, causing you to pivot back to face him.
"What's a pity?" you inquired, curious.
"I was genuinely looking forward to seeing you dance with Anton," he chuckled, tucking his water bottle back into his bag.
You chuckled, placing your hands on your hips and tilting your head slightly. "You do realize the class isn't over yet, right?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "Teacher?"
Copia choked slightly, clearing his throat as he nodded. "Sì, sì," he managed to reply before regaining his composure. "Giulietta, per favore, you don't need to call me 'teacher', 'Mr. Copia' is sufficient."
"Well," you started, taking a step closer to him. "Mr. Copia, since the class isn't over yet, I believe we'll resume practicing once the break ends, won't we?"
Copia blinked, a flicker of nervousness crossing his features before he recomposed himself with a small chuckle. "Of course, Giulietta," he replied, his voice steady. "We'll continue with the practice once the break is over."
"In that case, you'll have the chance to watch me dance," you remarked with a playful glint in your eyes.
Copia's gaze lingered on yours, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'm looking forward to it," he replied, taking one step closer to you.
As the dressing room door creaked open, you both instinctively took a step back, widening the space between you. A lingering gaze exchanged between you and Copia lasted for a brief moment before you turned away, putting distance between yourselves. With a nod at his direction, you walked away from him, joining the other dancers as they filtered back into the studio.
"Molto bene," Copia exclaimed, clapping his hands together to gather everyone's attention. "Are we ready to continue with the practice?" he inquired, scanning the dancers as they reassembled into a semi-circle. "Mr. Anton!" he called out.
"Yes, Mr. Copia," Anton responded, stepping forward.
"I believe now is the perfect time for you to demonstrate how well you can keep up with Giulietta, sì?" Copia suggested with a grin, extending one of his hands in your direction. "Giulietta, per favore."
You looked at Copia and made your way towards Anton as the other dancers gave you both space, creating a clear path on the center of the room. Meanwhile, Copia stepped away to set up the music. As the first chord of the song echoed through the room, you and Anton positioned yourselves. This time, there was a sense of determination and fire in your eyes — a silent agreement between you and Anton that failure was not an option.
With that, you both began to dance, synchronized movements flowing seamlessly from one step to the next. The grand jeté came and Anton executed it flawlessly, his movements graceful and controlled. You matched his every step, feeling a rush of exhilaration as you soared through the air.
However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Copia’s eyes on you, his gaze piercing through the intensity of the moment. Strangely, this only fueled your determination to execute each movement and step with excellence, letting the music dictate your motions.
As the final chords of the song filled the studio, you completed the dance in Anton's arms, the two of you breathing heavily from the exertion. You leaned into him, seeking some balance as you caught your breath, the exhilaration of the dance still coursing through your veins.
The room fell into silence and the sound of applause filled the air, initiated by Copia's clapping. Soon, the other dancers joined in. Stepping away from Anton, you turned to your colleagues, offering them a smile and a nod of gratitude.
"Molto bene," Copia praised between the claps, causing you to turn your head in his direction. "Bellissima," he added, his gaze quickly finding yours.
Feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks from Copia’s gaze, you shyly smiled and lowered your face, directing your gaze to the floor.
"Sono impressionato, Mr. Anton," Copia continued, his voice carrying a note of admiration. "You're a quick learner and," he paused, a silent chuckle escaping him, "perhaps you can keep up with Giulietta after all. And as for you, Giulietta," Copia said, turning his gaze to you, "great job."
You felt your cheeks flush at the unexpected praise, a shy smile playing on your lips as you murmured a quiet "Thank you, Mr. Copia," unable to meet his gaze directly.
He nodded with satisfaction, crossing his arms. "Now that we've seen our main couple in action, it's time for the rest of the dancers. Procediamo.” He gestured for the other dancers to take their positions, his voice commanding yet gentle as he directed the rehearsal forward.
As the music filled the room once more, the other dancers seamlessly moved into their routines, each step and movement guided by Copia’s instructions. Occasionally, he would join in, demonstrating steps with grace and precision, his presence commanding attention as he effortlessly led the performance.
As the dance progressed, you joined in with the other dancers, seamlessly blending into the choreography as you moved across the studio floor. As you danced with the others, you found yourself exchanging glances with Copia. Coincidence or intention, his gaze seemed to linger on you, igniting a spark of anticipation with each fleeting look.
You all danced as a cohesive unit, each step synchronized to the rhythm of the music, creating a display of skill and artistry. Copia watched on with pride, his voice cut through the music, offering words of praise and encouragement as the dancers continued to perform.
As the final notes of the music faded away, Copia stepped forward, a proud smile gracing his lips as he addressed the dancers. “Bravissimi,” he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “Well done, tutti,” he exclaimed. “Magnifico,” he declared, his voice ringing out in the now-silent studio. “Bravi, bravi tutti.”
While Copia looked over the group of dancers, you could see a glimmer of pride and satisfaction in his eyes. It was as if they were sparkling with admiration.
"It was thankfully to you, Mr. Copia," one of the dancers exclaimed, offering a grateful smile.
"Thank you," another chimed in, nodding appreciatively.
With a warm smile, you stepped forward. "Thank you for guiding us, Mr. Copia," you added, your voice soft but sincere.
Copia's cheeks flushed slightly at your words, and he cleared his throat before responding, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "G-Grazie," he murmured, averting his gaze momentarily. After a moment, he composed himself. "Grazie, everyone. I'm very satisfied with what I have seen here today," his voice returning to its usual tone with a more steady demeanor. "Before we finish today, does anyone else have anything to say?" The dancers exchanged glances, but no one spoke up. Copia nodded. "Well then, let's wrap up for today," he said, his tone gentle. "Bravissimi tutti! Ci vediamo domani."
With that, the dancers began to make their way to the dressing room. Anton hurried to retrieve his bag from the corner of the studio, and you waited for him, extending your hand as he approached, ready to walk into the dressing room together.
Entering side by side, you headed towards your locker, weaving through the other dancers who were already in the process of changing. Some were exchanging goodbyes and waving as they prepared to leave for the day. You took your time, removing your ballet slippers and placing them neatly in your bag.
Suddenly, you felt a kiss on the top of your head, and you turned to see Anton beside you. "Hey," he said with a gentle smile. "I need to go, I need to have a conversation with my partner, so I'll head out first. Are you okay going home alone today?"
You nodded, returning his smile. "Yes, of course. Go ahead, I'll be fine. See you next class."
With a quick farewell, Anton left, and soon other dancers followed suit, leaving you alone in the dressing room to finish changing. After packing up your bag, you stepped out into the studio, where you noticed Copia still lingering, lost in thought, humming some music.
"Bye, Mr. Copia," you said softly.
"Eh!?" he exclaimed surprised, and then he turned to face you, his expression shifting. “Ah, Giulietta! It's you.”
You chuckled, nodding as you adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder. "Yes, it seems we're the last ones to leave, aren't we?"
He chuckled in agreement, picking up his bag and walking over to where you stood. "Sì sì, it appears so, Giulietta."
As you anticipated Copia heading your way, he veered towards the door instead. Grabbing the handle, he swung it open and held it, his gaze fixed on you. With a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, you walked towards him, exiting the studio with him following closely behind.
Copia gestured for you to walk and you fell into step beside him. The silence between you felt strangely intimate, both comforting and uncomfortable at the same time. Determined to break it, you searched for something to say, anything to fill the quiet air.
"So," you began, prompting him to turn his gaze towards you. "What are your thoughts on today, Mr. Copia?"
"You all are incredibly talented dancers," he replied with a nod. "I have no doubt that the debut of the ballet will be amazing."
"Really?" you arched a brow.
"Absolutely!" He exclaimed. "The dancers are amazing; they're all synchronized and dedicated," Copia chuckled softly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But I must say, you are were quite impressive."
You raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Me? Mr. Copia, are you admitting that I might be good and you won't make me dance a solo to prove it?"
Copia's grin widened, his gaze locking with yours. "Forse," he conceded, his tone dripping with playful challenge. "But I suppose we'll have to wait and see, won't we?"
You chuckled. "I suppose we will," you agreed, unable to resist the challenge in his eyes.
He turned his gaze to the front as you both arrived at the front door of the studio building. With a polite gesture, he opened it for you, and you stepped outside, and you exchanged a final nod with him before turning and heading on your way.
"However," he said, causing you to pause in your tracks and turn back to face him. "I believe that you're a very talented ballerina."
You blinked, surprised by his compliment, and a faint blush crept onto your cheeks. "Thank you, Mr. Copia," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
Copia gave you a nod. "See you tomorrow, Giulietta," he said before turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction.
You watched him for a moment, feeling a flutter of anticipation for the next day's class, before finally heading off in your own direction.
Strolling down the street, you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, purposefully heading towards the dance studio a bit earlier than your usual schedule. It was a deliberate decision; you craved the solitude of an empty studio for a serene warm-up session before the hustle and bustle of the class began. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy dancing with others, but there was a unique allure to early morning practices, where you could move freely without the eyes or judgments of onlookers.
Pushing open the heavy door, you stepped into the quiet foyer, and with determined steps, you made your way down the corridor towards the studio room, your ballet bag slung over your shoulder. However, as you reached the door of the studio, a faint sound caught your attention—a melody floating through the air. Curiosity piqued, you approached the door, your hand hesitating on the handle.
Standing on your tiptoes, you peered through the small window in the door, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you. Inside, you saw Copia, moving with effortless grace to the rhythm of the music. He danced alone, his movements fluid and precise, as if lost in his own world. You watched mesmerized, captivated by the beauty of his dance. For a moment, you forgot about your own plans, your own worries, as you became lost in the enchanting spectacle before you.
As the music continued to fill the room, Copia's movements grew increasingly captivating. Mesmerized, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. Despite having danced together just yesterday, witnessing his solo performance from a distance offered a new perspective. It was a proof of the beauty and skill that he had, a testament to his talent.
Stepping back from the door, a pang of guilt washed over you. Perhaps, like you, Copia also cherished the solitude of early mornings. Maybe he wanted the freedom to dance without any eyes upon him, just as you did. Yet, despite these thoughts, you found it difficult to tear your gaze away from him. Your curiosity and admiration compelled you to watch him just a little while longer, even as you grappled with the guilt of intruding on his private moment.
You returned to your tiptoes, your curiosity outweighing your sense of guilt. You continued to watch Copia, recognizing the steps instantly, the familiarity, as he moved around the studio floor. As you leaned against the door handle, absorbed in watching Copia's performance, a sudden surge of excitement caused your hand to slip, accidentally turning the handle and pushing the door open wider than intended. You stumbled forward, caught off guard by the sudden movement, and found yourself on the threshold of the studio room, peering inside with wide-eyed surprise.
Copia froze mid-step, startled by the unexpected intrusion. “Ah!” Copia’s startled gasp echoed through the room as his movements halted abruptly as he turned to face you, surprise written across his features.
You felt a rush of embarrassment flood through you. "I-I'm so sorry," you stammered, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I was just... I mean, I didn't expect anyone to be here, and I... I didn't mean to open the door like that."
Copia’s expression softened as he realized your genuine mistake. “No, no, it’s alright,” he reassured you, stepping closer with a comforting smile. “I just didn’t expect anyone to arrive so early either. Are you okay?”
You nodded, still feeling mortified but relieved by his understanding. “Y-yes, I’m fine. I’ll just… go... over there... here,” you mumbled, gesturing awkwardly towards the front door.
"No, no," he said, gesturing with his hands. "Per favore, stay."
"Stay?" you repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Copia nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Sì, stay," he confirmed. "I'd say 'come in' but I think you already did, sì?" he chuckled slightly.
You slowly nodded. "Okay," you agreed softly. "And, yes... Sorry again."
"Just close the door," he chuckled, gesturing towards it before making his way to turn off the music.
You complied, closing the door with a deep breath, still reeling from the embarrassment of your clumsy entrance. You turned back to him, watching him. "Mr. Copia, I'm deeply sorry."
Copia turned back to you, a gentle smile on his face. "Don't worry about it," he reassured you, his tone warm and understanding, "don't need to apologize."
You nodded, feeling a bit flustered. "But I... I didn't mean to interrupt your... practice."
"It's alright," he said. "You didn't interrupt anything. I wasn't practicing anything, more like a warm up. But, if you allow me to ask... Why you arrived early? Is there any problem?"
You shrugged, trying to downplay your embarrassment. "Just felt like it, I guess. Wanted some quiet time before the class. However, it seems like I'm not the only one who enjoys an early dance warm up."
Copia chuckled. "Heh... Sì, sì. Though I must admit, I didn't expect an audience this morning."
"I'm sorry, but, it was quite a performance," you commented, nodding towards the empty space where Copia had been dancing.
"Grazie," he replied, his gaze meeting yours. "And you were just watching me, eh?"
You chuckled shyly. "Well, it's not every day I get to see a talented teacher dancing up close."
Copia's smile widened. "That means a lot coming from you."
You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you couldn't help but smile back. "Does it?"
"Sì, of course," he said with a smile as he settled on the floor, gracefully slipping off his ballet slippers. "I told you yesterday, you're very talented, alata ballerina."
"Ala... What?" you chuckled, amused by the unfamiliar term.
"Alata ballerina," he repeated, his gaze meeting yours as he looked up.
"What does it mean?" you inquired, moving closer and sitting down in front of him, setting your bag beside you.
"Eh..." he hesitated, his eyes holding yours for a moment before he averted his gaze. "It's just a nickname," Copia said, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he avoided your gaze.
You tilted your head, intrigued. “A nickname? For what?”
Copia shrugged, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “It’s just something I thought it would suits you...” he admitted sheepishly. “It means… um… winged ballerina.”
“Winged ballerina?” You repeated.
Copia nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “It's fine if you find it cheeky... But for me, It suits you,” he repeated softly.
You couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter in your stomach at his words. "Well, I like it and it's not cheeky at all," you said softly. "Thank you, Mr. Copia."
He glanced up at you, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he admitted, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "Uh... But, honestly, it just slipped out."
You chuckled softly. “Well, I’m glad it did,” you replied, returning his smile. “It’s different and it's a lovely nickname. But why 'winged'?”
He glanced away for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then, he looked back at you, his gaze soft and sincere. “Bene, you do have a certain grace and elegance, like a... butterfly,” he said earnestly.
You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, and you looked down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh...” you giggled timidly.
Copia reached out and gently tilted your chin up, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Non essere timida,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours. “Again, you are very talented.”
You nodded, feeling his fingers delicately tracing along your chin. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you couldn't help but bite your lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed your embarrassment. You couldn’t shake the flutter of nerves dancing in your stomach. His touch was gentle, almost teasing, and yet it sent a wave of warmth coursing through you.
"Thank you, Mr. Copia... again," you said in a voice barely above a whisper.
Copia's hand withdrew from your chin. “Ma sto dicendo la verità, watching you dance… it’s like witnessing poetry in motion.”
You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Poetry in motion? That’s…"
“It’s only the truth,” he insisted, his tone sincere.
Struggling to maintain eye contact, you diverted your gaze to the floor, a shy smile playing on your lips. A laugh, nervous escaped you. “I just do what the music tells me,” you admitted, shrugging slightly.
“And that,” Copia started, “is what sets you apart.” His voice was low, intimate.
As you parted your lips to speak, the moment between you was abruptly interrupted by the distant sound of voices from outside the studio. He rose from his seated position with a sense of urgency.
“Looks like the others are starting to arrive,” Copia remarked, glancing towards the door.
He extended a hand towards you. Looking at his hand, you took it, grabbing your bag and standing up. “Guess it’s time to get ready for the class.”
For what felt like a long minute, you both stood there, staring at each other, holding hands. You felt his thumb moving in circles on the back of your hand, a small but intimate gesture that sent a warm feeling through you.
Copia released your hand as the sound of the door handle echoed through the room. One by one, the other dancers started to enter the studio, their cheerful waves directed towards both you and Copia, breaking the spell of the moment between you too.
They moved past you, heading towards the dressing room and for a brief moment, you found yourself alone with Copia again. The air between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken words. But instead of speaking, Copia simply turned his back towards you, a silent end to the conversation that had never truly begun. With a sigh, you turned to follow the others to the dressing room, your heart a filled with confusion and disappointment.
Just as you took a step away, his voice pierced the silence, halting your retreat. "Giulietta," he called out.
You turned back to him, a questioning look on your face. "Yes?"
Copia hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment that felt longer than it probably was. "I..." he started, then paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. “You should hurry,” he finally said, his voice carrying a different weight than what his initial pause had promised. “Don’t want to miss the warm-up. Go change.”
You nodded, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you turned away from him and made your way towards the dressing room. Stepping inside, you fell into your daily routine: heading to your locker, stowing your bag, changing into your practice clothes, and retrieving your ballet slippers for another day of rehearsal at the studio.
As you finished dressing, you made your way back out of the dressing room and into the studio. There, you noticed Copia standing with his back to the other dancers, everyone else beginning to gather around.
"Shall we start with the warm-up?" he suggested, turning towards everyone with a gentle smile.
The dance studio hummed with activity as the dancers dispersed across the floor, each finding their own space to begin the warm-up routine. Copia moved among them with a fluid grace as he offered gentle corrections and encouragement. There was a distinct gentleness in his demeanor as he interacted with the others, his voice carrying a soothing tone and an undeniable technique in the way he communicated, it was impossible not to be captivated by his presence.
Your eyes never left him as he glided between the dancers, there was something about Copia, something captivating that drew you in with each step he took. As he drew nearer, you felt a flutter of anticipation in your chest, a blend of excitement and apprehension at his proximity. Averting your gaze, you pretended to focus on your stretches, gripping your calf to hold it up high. But as Copia approached, flashing you an approving smile, you lost your balance, stumbling and landing hard on the floor. With a sharp intake of breath, you felt a twinge of pain shoot through your ankle.
Clutching your ankle with both hands, a sharp intake of breath escaping you as pain shot through your limb. "Fuck!" you exclaimed in a hushed tone as you gritted your teeth against the discomfort.
Copia was at your side in an instant, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow as he assessed the situation. "Are you okay?" he inquired, his hand gently resting on top of yours.
You turned your head to meet Copia's gaze, nodding slightly. "Just... a little pain," you managed to reply.
"Do you think you can stand up?" Copia asked, his other hand coming to rest on your back, offering support.
With a deep breath, you nodded in affirmation, determination setting in despite the throbbing ache in your ankle. "Yes, I guess I can," you replied, steeling yourself for the effort it would take to rise to your feet once more.
Copia extended his hand towards you, with a cautious breath, you released your grip on your injured ankle and reached out for his hand, allowing him to gently guide you to your feet. As you shifted your weight onto your injured leg, a sharp jolt of pain shot through your limb, causing you to wince. Instinctively, you tightened your grip on Copia's hand and he pulled you closer to him, his arm encircling your body to steady you. You swallowed nervously, feeling the tension as your chest pressed against his, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you as he supported you, keeping you upright.
"Are you sure you are fine?" Copia inquired, his concern evident in the gentle touch of his hands as they slid from yours to your arm.
You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile despite the lingering ache in your ankle. "Yes, yes, I am," you affirmed.
"Come with me," Copia said softly as he turned his body slightly, offering you his arm for support. "To the others, per favore, continue with the warm-up, and once you're all done, I would highly appreciate it if you could start with the practice," he addressed the rest of the dancers, his tone firm yet considerate.
Without hesitation, you leaned into Copia, he wrapped his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the dressing room. With each step, he provided a sense of stability, grounding you amidst the discomfort of your injury. As you reached the door, Copia opened it with a gentle push, allowing you both to enter together. With care, he guided you towards the nearest bench, helping you to lower yourself onto it with a gentle touch.
"Stay here," Copia said softly as he turned his back and walked towards the lockers, disappearing from your sight.
Left alone on the bench, you took a moment to collect your thoughts allowing the tension to seep from your body. How could you have been so easily distracted by him? It didn't make sense. How could you fall during a stretch position you've done countless times before? And all because of a smile? You couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment over such a simple mistake.
Shaking your head, you chastised yourself for letting your emotions get the best of you. You needed to focus, to regain your composure, and to remember why you were there—to dance.
"I'm sorry for making you wait," Copia said as he returned, with the first-aid kit in one hand and a bag of ice in the other.
Your gaze traced his figure as he knelt before you. He placed the first-aid kit on the bench beside you and with a sense of calm purpose, Copia reached for the lace of your ballet slippers, his movements deft as he untied them. Gently, Copia lifted your foot onto his thigh, cradling it with care as he began to massage your ankle with a practiced touch. The sensation was both soothing and invigorating, the warmth of his hands working to alleviate the pain that had settled deep within your muscles.
"Does it hurt?" Copia asked, his voice soft with concern as he turned his head to look at you, his gaze searching yours for any sign of discomfort.
You shook your head slightly. "No, it's not hurting."
Copia nodded, his expression thoughtful as he continued to massage your ankle with gentle, rhythmic movements. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, you couldn't help but steal glances at him. Each time your eyes met, a blush crept up your cheeks, betraying your efforts to remain composed.
"Good," he murmured, his attention returning to your ankle as he applied a gentle pressure, his fingers working with precision.
Copia carefully placed the ice bag onto your ankle, the cool sensation providing a welcome relief to the throbbing ache. Rising from the floor, he extended his hand towards you. You accepted it, and he guided you gently, turning you so he could sit beside you. As you settled beside you, he placed your foot on his thigh with care. With a gentle touch, he adjusted the bag to ensure it covered the injured area completely.
"Thank you," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced at him.
Copia met your gaze with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with kindness, "You're welcome. Just relax and let the ice do its work. You'll be back on your feet in no time."
With a nod of acknowledgment, you allowed yourself to relax as Copia retrieved the first-aid kit and placed it on his other thigh. With practiced ease, he opened the kit, his movements methodical as he took stock of its contents. You couldn't help but watch him with a sense of curiosity.
With a gentle smile, Copia glanced up from the kit, meeting your gaze again. "Don't worry," he said softly, his voice calm and steady. "You won't need anything from here, you're taken care of."
“Thank you, Mr. Copia," you said with a grateful smile.
Copia returned your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth as he replied, “Of course."
You chuckled softly, turning your face to glance at your ankle with the ice bag resting on it. “I’m sorry for causing an injury on your second day,” you remarked.
Copia chuckled in response, shaking his head gently. “Don’t be silly,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Accidents happen, and it’s nothing serious. Can you move it for me?"
You shifted your ankle slightly, testing the limits of its mobility, and felt a twinge of pain, but it was bearable, nothing more than a dull ache. "Yes... but it hurts a little."
Copia nodded understandingly, his expression sympathetic as he observed your discomfort. "I see," he murmured, his voice gentle. "I'd recommend resting it for a bit and applying ice. It should help alleviate the pain." He reached for the ice bag, adjusting it once more to ensure it was positioned correctly on your ankle.
You blushed. “Thank you for everything... again," you said with a gentle smile.
Copia returned your smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he replied, “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad I could help you.”
The brief pause stretched between you as you both sat in quiet contemplation. Your eyes met Copia’s, locking in a silent exchange. He gave you a small grin, and you mirrored his smile. For a moment, it felt as though your eyes were engaged in a conversation of their own, though you couldn't quite decipher the message behind his gaze.
Copia averted his gaze from yours clearing his throat, breaking the spell that had enveloped the two of you. With a gentle smile, he rose from the bench, carefully placing your foot on the bench.
“I need to go back,” Copia said, turning to you and adjusting the first-aid kit in his hands. “You stay here, keep the ice on your ankle, and whenever you feel better, come back to the studio. But for today, I recommend that you just watch. Which, I don’t think, is a problem for you.”
“What?” you inquired, a hint of frustration in your voice. “Of course it’s a problem. I need to practice too.”
Copia met your gaze with a calm certainty. “From what I’ve seen,” he started, his voice gentle yet firm, “I wouldn’t be worried if I were you.”
As Copia's words echoed inside your mind, you felt a deep blush creeping into your cheeks, the warmth spreading across your face like wildfire. Unable to meet his gaze, you lowered your head, focusing your attention on your injured ankle. All you could see were Copia's feet in front of you. And then, Copia moved away, disappearing from your view as he walked among the lockers.
You bit your lower lip to contain the wide smile that threatened to tug at the corners of your lips as Copia was already back. He stopped in front of the doorway of the dressing room, turning to you. You felt a flutter of anticipation in your chest, your breath catching in your throat.
“Take care of yourself,” he said softly. "I'll be waiting for you out there."
Copia offered you a reassuring smile before turning to open the door, leaving the dressing room. With the soft click of the door closing echoing through the dressing room, you released your lower lip, allowing yourself to smile freely. You weren't entirely sure of the reason behind your smile, but in that moment, it didn't seem to matter and for a few more minutes, you remained seated in the dressing room.
As the ice from the bag began to melt, you knew it was time to go back. Carefully, you removed the ice from your ankle, feeling a sense of relief as the cool sensation dissipated. Placing your foot on the floor, you gingerly tested your weight on the injured leg feeling only a slight discomfort.
Rising from the bench, you reached for your ballet slippers, securing them tightly to your feet, ensuring they were fastened securely before you prepared to return to the studio. Stepping out of the dressing room, you made your way towards the studio, the sound of music and the sight of dancers in motion drawing you closer.
You stood there for a moment, simply observing the dancers as they moved gracefully across the studio floor. But before you could fully immerse yourself in the scene before you, you felt a hand gently touching your back, causing you to jolt in surprise.
Turning around, your eyes met your fellow Romeo, Anton, a warm smile playing at the corners of their lips. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," they said apologetically.
You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "It's alright," you replied.
"I was wondering where you were," they said, their brows furrowing in concern.
"I had a little accident," you replied, gesturing towards your ankle. "So, I was in the dressing room. Why didn't I see you there?"
"I arrived a bit late again, so I just left my bag in the corner and put my slippers on here," they explained, motioning towards the studio entrance. "What kind of accident did you have?"
"Believe me," you sighed, shaking your head, "it was just me losing my balance."
"I believe you," they chuckled softly. "Are you going to practice today?"
You shook your head, a hint of disappointment in your expression. "The new teacher suggested I just watch today," you replied.
As they nodded understandingly, you watched them make their way back to join the other dancers. With a sigh, you turned and walked to the corner of the studio, finding a seat where you could observe the ongoing practice. As your eyes followed the graceful motions of the dancers, suddenly, your attention was drawn to the front of the studio, where Copia had taken command of the class.
You watched intently as Copia demonstrated each step with precision, his movements fluid and graceful. With a few simple gestures, he corrected their posture and technique, offering words of encouragement and guidance along the way. You were captivated by Copia's teaching style, it was almost breathtaking. It was clear that he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it with a level of mastery that was truly awe-inspiring.
Bringing your legs together, you held them close, wrapping your arms around them as you released a sigh. It was frustrating to be confined to the corner of the studio, relegated to a mere observer while the others practiced under Copia's guidance. But despite the limitations, you found solace in the opportunity to watch, especially him. Your eyes remained fixated on Copia, unable to tear away from his captivating and meticulously coordinated movements.
As you watched him effortlessly glide across the floor, a multitude of questions swirled in your mind. How long had he been dancing? What performances had he choreographed? How many stages had he graced with his presence? How long had he been teaching? And what was it about ballet that he loved so much?
Unable to obtain the answers firsthand and hesitant to ask him directly, you found yourself crafting replies in your mind, imagining what he might say. "Since I was young," he might respond. "The many you can think of," he might continue. "More than I can count," he might add with a smile. "For some years," he might confess. And finally, "The smoothness, the gentleness, and the beauty behind the movements," he might conclude, his voice filled with passion and reverence for the art form.
You couldn't help but chuckle silently, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you pondered what more could you even ask him.
Had dance always been his passion? What drove his creative inspiration? Did he find fulfillment in his role as a ballet teacher? And to those, the replies would likely be affirmative.
Lost in your contemplations as you gazed at him, pondering what his answers might be, you barely noticed as Copia moved away from the dancers, walking backward before turning to reach for his bag, retrieving a bottle from within, then leaned against the wall. His appearance had shifted since he first entered the studio earlier. The once meticulously styled locks of his hair were now slightly disheveled, strands falling across his face in an artfully tousled manner.
There was something about the way his hair fell across his face, the way his breath quickened ever so slightly—it was mesmerizing, captivating. But just as Copia's eyes seemed to turn in your direction, Anton, your friend from the studio, sidled up beside you, blocking your view. His presence broke the spell, pulling you back to reality with a jolt.
"Hey there!" Anton greeted cheerfully. "What are you thinking of?"
You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his sudden appearance. "Thinking of...?" you replied, momentarily confused. "About what?"
"The dance," Anton clarified, gesturing toward the dancers in the middle of the studio. "I noticed you were watching."
"Oh, right," you nodded, quickly catching on. "Yes, yes, very good."
Anton chuckled, settling himself on the floor beside you. "So, what do you think of the routine?" he asked, his eyes bright with enthusiasm as he watched the dancers in the center of the studio.
"It's impressive," you replied, tearing your gaze away from the dancers to focus on Anton. "They're really giving it their all."
"Yeah, definitely," Anton agreed, nodding in agreement. "I can't wait for our turn to perform as Romeo and Juliet. It's going to be epic."
You smiled. "I know, right? It's going to be incredible."
Anton turned to you, his expression growing more serious. "Hey, how's your ankle feeling?" he asked, his tone filled with genuine concern.
You sighed, shifting slightly to relieve the discomfort in your injured ankle. "It's still a bit sore, but it's manageable."
Anton nodded. "Well, if you're up for it after the class, we could practice our parts together," he suggested. "I don't have anything planned for today, and I'd be more than happy to help you out."
"That would be amazing, Anton," you replied. "Thank you."
Anton grinned, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. "Great! It's a plan, then. But only if you're feeling up to it, of course."
You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Of course. Let's do it, yeah."
"Alright," Anton said, springing up in a swift motion. "I'll head back there, and you stay here."
You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I don't have anywhere else to be, Anton."
With a wave in your direction, Anton made his way back to the center of the studio, joining the other dancers as they prepared to resume their practice. Left alone once more, you settled back against the wall. However, your solitude didn't last long. Just as Anton vanished among the other dancers, out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Copia making his way toward you, his steps purposeful but unhurried. Your heart quickened its pace as he drew nearer, prompting you to straighten your posture in an attempt to appear nonchalant, as if his approach hadn't caught your attention.
"How are you feeling?" Copia's voice reached your ears as he stopped beside you, his presence palpable despite your attempt to feign indifference.
"Oh, hi, Mr. Copia," you greeted him with a gentle smile, turning your head to acknowledge him. "I'm fine."
"Are you really?" he inquired, settling down beside you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, his eyes searching yours.
"Yes, really," you confirmed, mustering a confident smile. "Just a minor mishap, nothing serious."
Copia regarded you for a moment longer, his expression softening. "Good to hear," he said, offering a supportive squeeze to your shoulder before withdrawing his hand.
As you sat together against the wall, a comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the distant sounds of the dancers' movements. Eventually, Copia broke the quiet with a gentle clearing of his throat.
"So, tell me," he began, his tone warm and inviting. "How long have you been dancing?"
"I... I've been dancing since I was a kid," you admitted, feeling a flutter of nerves at the thought of sharing your experiences with him. "What about you?"
Copia chuckled softly. "Likewise," he replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "And how many times have you been on the stage?"
"Since I was a kid? Countless times," you replied with a nervous laugh. "I've lost track, to be honest."
Copia's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. "Impressive," he remarked, his admiration evident in his expression. "And have you ever had the opportunity to dance as the lead performer?"
You shook your head. "No, this is actually my first time," you confessed, your voice tinged with excitement and apprehension.
Copia's gaze softened with understanding. "I must say, I'm even more impressed than before," he said sincerely. "You're a natural talent."
Your cheeks flushed as you stumbled over your words, feeling a pang of embarrassment at your sudden openness. "T-Thank you," you managed to stammer out. "And you are a very good teacher."
Copia's laughter rang out softly, a warm twinkle in his eyes. "Eh, but I only arrived yesterday," he replied modestly.
"But I saw what you were doing out there, and that was definitely impressive. It feels like you have always been here," you replied, turning your gaze towards the group of dancers. "You showed confidence and passion, and your guidance is so gentle. It's... inspiring."
A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Copia's lips as he listened to your words, his hand finding its way to yours, his touch warm and comforting. "Inspiring...?" he prompted softly, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with him, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Your pulse thrummed in your ears, you knew you had to say something, but your mind raced.
With a shaky breath, you summoned your courage. "How long have you been teaching?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Copia's laughter filled the air once more as he ran a hand through his hair, his expression thoughtful. "Hmm, let's see... I believe I started when I was around 25 or 27," he mused.
"Do you enjoy being a teacher?" you inquired, genuine curiosity shining in your eyes.
Copia nodded thoughtfully, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I do," he affirmed. "It's... fulfilling. Inspiring others and helping them grow, it's somehow magical."
"It must be amazing to see your students progress," you remarked.
Copia's expression softened, a hint of pride glinting in his eyes. "Absolutely," he agreed. "Watching them finding their potential is one of the most gratifying feelings in the world of teaching."
"Even when they get hurt?" you pressed, lifting your foot slightly to indicate your sore ankle.
Copia approached you, his touch gentle yet firm as he carefully guided your leg back down. "Even when they get hurt," he affirmed with a nod, his gaze unwavering. "Because is an opportunity for growth, is a chance to learn and become stronger."
As Copia withdrew his hand from your leg, a soft sigh escaped your lips, the absence of his touch leaving a lingering warmth in its wake. Your eyes remained locked on each other's, and you felt a palpable tension building between you. Just as you were about to speak, a dancer's voice pierced the air, calling out for Copia's attention. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from yours, shifting his focus to the dancers on the studio floor.
"One minute," Copia responded, addressing the dancer. Then, his attention returned to you, his eyes meeting yours once more. "If you need anything, let me know, sì?" he added, his tone soft and reassuring.
As Copia placed his hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring grip, you offered a nod. Watching him rise and walk towards the dancer who had called him, you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Closing your eyes briefly, you pondered the strange emotions swirling within you. There was no denying that Copia possessed a certain charm, and his gentle demeanor had undoubtedly left an impression on you. However, as you reflected on the burgeoning connection between the two of you, you couldn't help but wonder why it was happening.
As the class continued, you pushed aside the tentative attempts to find an answer to your swirling emotions. After all, dwelling on it wouldn't provide any concrete answers. Instead, you decided to simply embrace the small excitement bubbling within you.
Despite your efforts to distract yourself by watching Anton practice with the other dancers, you couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s gaze on you. It was a persistent sensation, tugging at the edge of your consciousness as you focused on the movements before you. Every now and then, you stole a glance in Copia’s direction, only to find him already looking back at you, offering you a discreet, small smile that sent a flutter through your heart.
With the class neared its end, everyone, including Copia, gathered together, exchanging words of gratitude and encouragement for the day's practice. Despite your inability to participate fully due to your injury, you rose from your spot and made your way over to the group, eager to express your appreciation for the rehearsal.
As the group quieted down, Copia's voice resonated through the studio. "Everyone," he began. "I'd like to express my heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you for welcoming me here today. I'm truly excited to continue guiding you all in the days leading up to our performance."
A round of appreciative applauses rippled through the group as they nodded in agreement. As the applause subsided, you made your way closer to Anton, standing by his side as you both. With a smile, you exchanged a glance with Anton, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a side hug.
"Heh... Grazie, grazie," Copia's eyes traveled over each dancer in the group, eventually meeting yours. "You're all dismissed," he announced, his tone and demeanor shifting slightly. "We will see each other tomorrow."
With that, the dancers began to disperse, chatting and laughing as they made their way out of the studio. You noticed Copia’s gaze lingered a little longer on you before he turned toward the corner of the room where his bag was. Anton released you from the side hug and turned to you, a smile still lingering on his lips.
"Need me to grab your bag?" Anton asked, stretching his back and glancing in your direction. "That way, we can head out as soon as we're ready."
"Yeah, that'd be great," you replied gratefully. "Thanks, Anton."
"Sure thing. I'll be back in a second," he said before heading off to the dressing room with the rest of the dancers.
Having spent hours seated in the corner, it was time to redo your warm-up. You turned towards the mirrors, using them not only to guide your stretches but also to keep an eye on Copia as he remained nearby by his bag. As you stretched, your gaze periodically flickered towards Copia, noting his movements as he removed his slippers and set them neatly beside his bag. You couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself, even in such simple actions.
Resolute in your determination to concentrate on your warm-up, you averted your gaze from Copia, ensuring no further distractions could impede your progress. With the memory of your recent injury still vivid in your mind, you couldn't afford to be careless. Instead, you focused intently on your stretching routine, lifting your leg and grasping the palm of your foot to hold it up high, maintaining the pose.
"What are you doing?" Copia's voice broke the silence, drawing your attention to the corner where he stood, already dressed in sweatpants with his bag slung over his shoulder.
You released your foor and turned toward him, momentarily taken aback by his sudden inquiry. "I'm... warming up...?" you replied, a hint of uncertainty in your tone.
"Warming up?" he echoed, furrowing his brows in confusion.
"Yes," you confirmed, nodding. "I want to practice, even if it's just a little."
Copia approached you, his expression filled with concern. "But what about your ankle?" he pressed, crossing his arms. "Are you sure you're not pushing yourself too hard?"
"I'm not pushing myself too hard, Mr. Copia," you assured him with a soft smile. "I promise I won't practice for too long, but after watching everyone else dancing while I sat in the corner..." You sighed. "I just want to practice a little."
Copia regarded you for a moment, his brows furrowed in concern. "Alright," he relented with a sigh. "But take it easy, okie dokie? Don't overexert yourself."
"Thank you, Mr. Copia. I'll be careful."
Copia took a step back and placed his bag near the mirrors, clasping his hands together. He then returned to where you were standing. "What are you planning to practice?" he inquired.
You chuckled. "I'm thinking maybe something simple."
"Anything specific in mind?" he pressed.
"Well, I was considering the Balcony scene," you confessed.
"The Balcony scene?" he echoed, intrigued. "But that's meant to be performed by a pair."
"I know," you giggled. "An—"
Before you could finish your sentence, Copia interjected. "Do you want me to stay? I can practice it with you," he offered. "I'm familiar with Conti's work and the steps. Plus, I can be here to guide you and provide some assistance if you need it because of your ankle."
"Mr. Copia—"
Anton interjected you this time as he returned to the studio, carrying your bag on his shoulder. "I'm back, oh, Juliet, I'm sorry for making thee wait," Anton chimed in, playfully mocking you with a Shakespearean flair.
"Ah, Romeo, thou art back," you replied with a grin, matching Anton's playful tone. "Thy tardiness doth not trouble me, for 'tis a pleasure to await thee."
Anton let out a hearty laugh as he set your bag down on the floor and strolled over to where you were, spotting Copia standing nearby. "Ah, Mr. Copia, hey sir! Will you be watching us during our practice?"
Copia hesitated for a moment before responding, "Uh... Sì, certainly."
Anton nodded and turned to you, offering his hand with a gallant flourish. You accepted it, allowing him to lead you to the center of the studio. With a graceful twirl, he positioned you facing the mirror, his hands resting gently on your hips as he stood behind you. As your eyes met in the reflection, you couldn't help but notice Copia still lingering in the corner, his gaze averted. A flicker of something passed over his features before he turned and walked closer to the mirrors.
"Do you both need the music?" he inquired, crossing his arms as he stood before you.
"No, I don't think so," Anton replied, glancing down at you for confirmation.
"We're good," you affirmed with a nod.
"Perfetto," Copia declared. "Begin."
Anton's steady hands supported you, guiding your movements as with a gentle push from your leg, you gracefully ascended, floating momentarily in the air before being lowered back to the ground. Anton lead you through steps of the dance, his movements synchronized with yours as you swayed and twirled across the studio floor. With each motion, he held you close, his arms providing both support and stability.
As you lay upon Anton's shoulders, your eyes met Copia's, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of scrutiny in his gaze, as if he were analyzing every step and movement with keen observation. Undeterred, you remained focused. You executed each step with precision and finesse, your movements flowing seamlessly from one to the next. As the dance reached its climax, Anton spun you gracefully, your body moving with effortless grace as you neared the ground.
With a final flourish, Anton gently caught you in his arms. With every encounter, he held you close, lifting you, spinning you, and gently laying you in his arms. You danced with grace and poise, your every motion imbued with emotion as you portrayed Juliet's longing and desire. Each time Anton lifted you, spun you, or held you close, you enacted the chemistry between you two.
As you faced Copia once more, you noticed his unwavering gaze, his eyes following your every move with keen observation. His expression remained unchanged, but you sensed a hint of intrigue in his demeanor as he watched you dance.
When Anton let go of you, you danced around him until you met him again, and he greeted you with a raised hand, spinning you until you slowly leaned over him. However, the sound of a ringing phone suddenly echoed in the studio, breaking the spell of the dance, Anton gently placed you back on the ground and rose from the floor, his attention diverted by the interruption.
"I'm sorry," Anton apologized, walking towards his bag to retrieve his phone from inside.
As Anton answered the call, the studio fell into an eerie silence, the only sound being Anton's voice as he spoke into his phone. You and Copia stole glances at each other, communicating silently through shared expressions. Anton's voice filled the room, muffled yet audible, as he spoke earnestly into the phone, his expression shifting from concern to reassurance and back again. You couldn't help but watch him.
After some minutes, Anton ended the call and hung up the phone. He made his way back to you, his steps purposeful yet gentle. Taking your hands in his, he looked at you with a warm smile.
"I'm sorry about that," he said softly, squeezing your hands reassuringly. "But I'm here now. Shall we continue?"
"Anton, is everything alright?" you asked, concerned.
"Yes," he responded, but then hesitated, shaking his head. "No, actually..."
"It's okay, Anton. We can practice tomorrow," you reassured him.
"But I promised we could do it after class, and if I leave now, I'll feel terrible about it," he explained, looking conflicted.
You giggled, gently releasing his hands and placing yours on his face. "I don't know what's going on, and you don't have to tell me right now. But go, take care of whatever it is."
Anton looked torn, his gaze flickering between you and his bag. "But I don't want to leave you here alone," he protested softly.
You smiled reassuringly, cupping his face in your hands. "I'll be fine, Anton. Whatever it is, it sounds important. Go take care of it, and we'll practice another time."
Reluctantly, Anton nodded. "Thank you," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
Anton made his way back to his bag, taking it. Before he left, he gave you a final look and then, walked away. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, but you knew that his well-being came first. Turning back to Copia, you found him watching you with a thoughtful expression, his eyes reflecting something. With a small smile, you nodded at him.
"I'm sorry for the interruption, Mr. Copia," you apologized, feeling a bit flustered. "You're free to go if you need to."
Copia shook his head as he approached you. "No need to apologize," he reassured you. "How's your ankle holding up?"
Glancing down at your leg, you responded, "It's actually feeling much better. I'm not in any pain."
"Bene," he nodded, then made his way back to his bag. "But I'm afraid I can't leave."
Confused, you asked, "Why not?"
"Because you haven't finished your practice, sì?" he pointed out.
"No, I haven't," you admitted, feeling confusion and anticipation. "But I'm not... Why?"
Copia settled onto the floor, retrieving his slippers from his bag and slipping them on. Then, he shed his sweatpants, leaving them in a heap on the ground as he approached you. Your cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling a nervous excitement building within you as he stood before you, extending his hand.
"Should we finish the dance," he began, his voice soft. "Giulietta?"
With a hesitant nod, you extended your hand towards him. Copia, with a gentle smile, knelt before you, taking your hand in his with a tender grip. His eyes met yours and you gracefully began to move around him, your movements fluid. As you completed the circle and faced him once more, you lifted your leg slowly, trusting in Copia's firm hold on your hand.
Turning away from him, you felt Copia's hands finding your waist, guiding you with a gentle yet assured touch. Together, you both arched your backs, moving in perfect synchrony. With a smooth twirl, Copia brought you back to face him, and you leaned in.
As you leaned closer, you could feel the warmth of Copia's body. Your faces were mere inches apart until Copia gently pulled you back, maintaining a delicate distance between you. You posed momentarily before starting to lean your body onto his again, your faces meeting once more.
With each movement, the tension between you grew palpable, and the chemistry between you and Copia started to be undeniable. As he pulled you took a step back, feeling his fingertips trail from your waist to your thighs. Copia rose to his feet, reaching out for your hand as he began to walk backward. With a small jump, you allowed him to catch you, twirling with you in his arms before gently setting you back on the floor.
Your heart raced as you anticipated the next part. With Copia coming after you, you extended your arm behind you, feeling his grasp on your hand as he closed the distance between you.
As his hand found your waist, he pulled you closer, your eyes locking in a silent exchange. Copia's face drew nearer, and you held your breath, knowing that the moment of the kiss was imminent. Your heartbeat quickened as he leaned in, but instead of closing the gap, he lingered mere inches from your lips, his touch light as he pressed his fingers over your skin.
With a gentle twirl, he shifted his hand from your waist to the back of your head, his gaze wavering between your lips and your eyes. Surrendering to the pull of his embrace, you leaned back, trusting in the strength of his hold. As he drew his face nearer to yours, every nerve in your body alive with the electric thrill of proximity. Copia's presence enveloped you, the tension between you grew. But before the tension could reach its peak before he finally released you, allowing you to step away.
As Copia stood there, a brief silence enveloped the studio. Slowly, you began to step away from him, your eyes locked in a poignant exchange. In that moment, you felt a deep resonance with Juliet, longing to return to the embrace of Romeo. With each step you took, the distance between you widened, yet the connection remained palpable. You couldn't tear your gaze away from his, the intensity of the moment holding you captive. It was as if time stood still, suspended in the space between you.
Feeling the cool surface of the wall against your back, you took a moment to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling with each rapid inhalation. Beside you, Copia mirrored your stance, his own breathing mirroring the rhythm of yours as you both stood in silent.
With a deep exhale, you tore your gaze away from Copia, letting your eyes drift upward to the ceiling. When you returned your gaze to Copia, you found him already at his bag, slipping off his slippers. Taking a cue from him, you made your way to your own bag, retrieving your belongings and beginning to dress in silence.
As you finished dressing, you slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way towards the door. You both reached the door simultaneously, causing him to look at you with a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. With a graceful gesture, Copia pushed the door open and gestured for you to pass through first.
You exchanged a nod of acknowledgment with Copia as you stepped out of the studio, feeling his presence beside you. He closed the door behind you and turned the key, ensuring it was securely locked. With a shared glance, you both began to walk, the echoes of your footsteps filling the quiet space.
"Eh," he began, "You are... talented. Very talented."
"Thank you," you replied, a hint of bashfulness coloring your cheeks. "Coming from you, that means a lot."
Copia scratched the back of his head, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Well, I mean it," he said softly. "You have a natural grace, a real talent."
You smiled, feeling your cheeks flush in response. "I appreciate that, really."
Copia shifted slightly, his gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet yours. "I, uh, enjoyed dancing with you," he admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of shyness.
"I did too," you confessed, a soft smile gracing your lips. "You’re an incredible partner and you're very talented too, Mr. Copia."
A faint blush dusted Copia’s cheeks as he nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I’m glad to hear that," he murmured.
As you both approached the front door of the studio, a brief pause ensued, each of you hesitating, unsure of who should open the door first to exit.
Copia cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Well, uh, I should get going," he said, shifting his weight slightly.
"Yeah, me too," you agreed.
Copia offered you a warm smile before graciously opening the door, allowing you to exit first. As you stepped outside, he followed closely behind, holding the door until you were safely out. A nod and a small wave were exchanged between you before he turned to leave. You watched him go, a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind. Suddenly, Copia paused and glanced back over his shoulder, catching your gaze. With a final wave, he bid you farewell before continuing on his way. You returned the gesture before hurrying off in the opposite direction.
Grammar
Ciao, buonasera a tutti - Hello, good evening everyone
Magia - Magic
Energia - Energy
Non c'è bisogno di preoccuparsi - There's no need to worry
Romeo e Giulietta, sì? - Romeo and Juliet, yes?
Tuttavia - However
Perfetto - Perfect
Molto Bene - Very well
Eccellente - Excellent
Giulietta - Juliet
Piacere di conoscerti - Nice to meet you
Per favore - Please
Bene - Well
Va bene, tutti - Okay, everyone
Grazie - Thank you
Bellissima - Very beautiful
Sono impressionato - I am impressed
Procediamo - Let's proceed
Bravissimi, tutti - Very well done, everyone
Magnifico - Magnificent
Bravi, tutti - Well done, everyone
Bravissimi tutti! Ci vediamo domani - Very well done, everyone! See you tomorrow
This is some personal stuff, so feel free to skip over this post. I just want to explain my absence and express my gratitude to you all.
TW: Mental health talk
So as you may have expected from the above TW, I’ve been struggling with my mental health since the start of this year. I hate to talk about it because it just seems like I’m fishing for sympathy or excuses. But it’s a big part of my life and it takes up a lot of my energy, to the point where all I do is go to work and sleep.
I haven’t been eating well. I haven’t been sleeping well. I haven’t been taking care of myself as I should. I know I’m extremely fortunate to have access to food and water and housing but I struggle to find joy in it all. The winter has been extremely hard on me this year, as it always is, but something about this year is particularly bad to the point of almost relapsing after seven years clean from SH. I’ve been neglecting my friends, online and irl, and I feel so extremely guilty for it.
Not being able to work on writing (or creating in general) is the worst part. I don’t find joy or enjoyment in it right now even though I know I love to write. I want to write. But the mental energy just isn’t there. I hate that I’ve neglected my fics for so long. I feel so awful that I haven’t updated, and I’m sorry.
Anyways. If you read this whole thing, thank you. I deeply appreciate each and every one of you. The crawl back up from the hole I’m in is long but I can see the top, it’s just a matter of how to get there. Love you guys ❤️❤️❤️
Thought this would be a fun little game to play: what are the 4 albums that you have on repeat?
Link!
I feel ya, Bill. I feel ya. He be jammin’ out to some of the classics right here.
Tagging: @copias-juicebox @forgexfag @fishwithtitz @riptide-kid @prophetofthesufferpuppets @gravehags @skywarpie @da-rulah and anybody else who wants to! (don’t feel pressured if you don’t wanna do it)
I would like to say a great heaping THANK YOU to everyone patiently waiting for the next chapter of Camellia! Since the new year I’ve had a ton of setbacks (a plow damaging my car, being sick for a week, shit with my landlord) so I’ve been pulled away from writing for a while. I understand that it’s frustrating having to wait so long but I can’t overstate how amazing you guys have been. As soon as I’m feeling better I’ll turn on the creative engine and start chugging away again.
The holiday season is on its way out and I magically have the brain space for a rec list! Love that for me! Let's go read about Bone Daddy this week.
recs under the cut.
Kinktober Day 10 - @causticjuice - afab!reader
You keep doing your regular workout but your thoughts and eyes keep drifting to Secondo. His muscles straining, his chest heaving, the beads of sweat running down his forehead. You imagine you’re the reason for those, and not the weights in his hands. Fuck, you were supposed to focus on your body, not his. Stop being such a creep, you idiot. He can definitely tell. Your curiosity wins the battle with your will, though, and you look in his direction once again. And what you see nearly knocks you on your ass. His chest is completely bare, the tank top discarded somewhere to the side. His skin glitters with moisture in between the coarse hair. He seems busy enough that your blatant gawking just might go unnoticed. Unlikely, but possible.
Sliding Home - @ramblingoak - f!reader
It's Secondo's turn in the Ghaseball uniform and you can't stop ogling him.
Nave of Hearts - @leezlelatch - gn!reader
Do you believe in love at first sight? Secondo didn't, until he saw you.
Friday Nights at the Vinothek - @writingjourney - gn!reader
When the local vintner who buys his cigarettes at the kiosk you work at offers you a job you can’t believe your luck. But after moving to the vineyard where the attraction between you only grows, you soon realize that he is not quite who you thought he is – and that working for a vampire comes with unexpected dangers.
la bella luna - @ghostchems - f!reader
after a disappointing evening, you run into a mysterious man on the street.
The King - @kissingghouls - f!reader
You thought accounting would lead to a boring life. Then you started working for Mr. Emeritus.
Come Home to Me - @da-rulah - f!reader
No one ever thought to question why Papa Emeritus II was such a bitter man. People assumed it was a product of his upbringing, of the pressures being an Emeritus brought him. But they had no idea that years ago, he was a completely different man. A man that you so easily fell in love with…
Fevered Love - @zombiequeenblog - f!reader
You take care of your Papa Secondo when he's feeling unwell.
Kiss Prompt Fic - @molly-ghuleh - afab!reader
"I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me."
Possession - @violet-lazer - gn!reader
Perhaps it was overconfidence, then, the fact that no strings had truly meant no strings in past dalliances, that had led Secondo to forget that it’s always, always a gamble. No matter how sure you are in your ability to keep a distance, to temper feelings, to avoid threading the needle of jealousy that could so easily burrow its way into one’s chest and tug, nothing is promised. Friends with benefits is fine, easy even, until somebody starts ruminating over the quiet, tender moments before and after the deed or the kisses that linger just a little too long. The gulf is vast between ‘let’s keep this casual’ and ‘let’s try something real.’
(Or: Secondo is finding 'friends with benefits' more difficult than anticipated.)
𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!
Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡
Summary: It's Christmas, and Copia won't be returning home this evening. However, he thoughtfully left you a note. What surprises might it hold?
Words: 10.152
Warnings: The Italian nicknames used by Copia has no gender, however the reader is AFAB | Smut (Copia is slightly dom; teasing; dirty talk; cunnilingus; fingering; unprotected sex; p in v; breeding) | Swearing | Italian swearing
Available on AO3
Primo (ao3) | Secondo (ao3) | Terzo (ao3)
Author's note: This is the Last day of the series XXXMAS AT THE MINISTRY, a Collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat @ghulehunknown and @molly-ghuleh, read their works too. I wanted to let you know that I'll be taking a short break after the Holidays as I'm currently engrossed in a work project. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
"What do you mean you're not coming?" you questioned with disappointment and confusion, pacing back and forth in your room.
"Amore," Copia sighed from the other end of the line. "Per favore, mi dispiace."
"But everyone's already here," you pointed out, worry evident in your voice. "Copia, you said..."
"I know," he responded. "And it kills me that I'm stuck here for reasons even I can't understand. They don't even need me anymore."
"What have you been doing there?"
"Nothing. The clergy insists the Papa Emeritus stays and observes some proceeds for the upcoming New Year's Eve ritual until it's all done, so I watch and do nothing more," he expressed his frustration, and you could almost hear him running a hand through his hair. "I just want to see you; I miss you so much."
"I miss you too. A lot..."
"I miss you immensely, amore mio," Copia confessed with a melancholic tone. "I miss your kisses, your smile, your laughter, your touch, your body..." The last word lingered, emphasized as if he were savoring the memory. "I even miss your beautiful nose."
"My nose?" you chuckled, sitting down on the edge of your bed. "What does that even mean?"
"I don't know! I just know that you are perf—" His words were abruptly cut off, and he fell silent. "Amore, I need to go now. I wish I could talk to you a little longer. I really missed your voice throughout the day."
"I missed yours too," you admitted, a tinge of longing in your tone. "What should I do now if you won't make it for dinner?"
"Amore mio," he said with a gentle tone. "There's just one thing that can be done now; you will enjoy the Christmas dinner you put so much effort into." he sighed, frustration evident.
"Ok..." you replied with a touch of sadness in your voice. "But promise me you'll be here tomorrow."
"I promise," he assured, "I'll make it up to you, amore mio. Ti amo così tanto."
"I love you too," you whispered
And then, he ended the call with a series of soft kissing sounds, a distant echo of the warmth you longed for. You sighed, holding the phone away from your ear, absorbing his kisses that felt both comforting and painfully distant. Copia hadn't been this occupied in a long time, and it was Christmas Eve of all days. Both of you had anticipated his return for the holidays, expecting him to be at home with you.
Frustration bubbled up within you as you glanced around the room. Helplessness settled in, and there was nothing you could do but yearn for Copia's presence. Rising from the bed, you adjusted your clothes, took a deep breath, and walked purposefully to the bedroom door.
With a gentle push, you opened the door, ensuring it closed quietly behind you. The echoes of your footsteps resonated as you retraced your path back to the dining room of the Papal Apartment. As you moved through the rooms, you couldn't help but appreciate the festive decor. At least he had taken the time to help you decorate.
"So?" Terzo inquired as you reentered the dining room, slipping his phone back into his blazer pocket.
"He won't make it," you revealed, a touch of melancholy lingering in your voice, veiled by a faint attempt at a smile.
"What do you mean he won't make it?" Secondo asked, topping off his wine. "What's going on?"
"He mentioned the clergy is keeping him there," you explained.
Terzo grumbled, "Gruppo di vecchi, rabbiosi idioti. What now? Why can't they let him have a break?"
"I..." you sighed, moving toward the table. "I don't know."
"It's still Christmas," Primo chimed in. "I believe Copia would want us to celebrate together. We can still have our dinner."
Terzo rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, it wouldn't be a proper holiday without the clergy complicating things, sì?"
Secondo, his annoyance palpable, grumbled, "This is ridiculous. What are we supposed to do without him? It's Christmas Eve!"
Primo, chimed in once again, with a gentle smile. "We can still make it special. Copia would want us to enjoy the evening together."
You nodded. "Yeah, you're right."
"So, what's the plan now?" Terzo quipped, his tone laden with sarcasm as he eyed the table. "Shall we stage a satanic reenactment of the Last Supper without our fratello?"
Secondo grunted, clearly irritated. "Stai zitto, Terzo. But he is right, Christmas dinner without him? Doesn't feels right."
"I agree with Primo. I doubt he'd want us to do not enjoy the dinner while he's stuck there," you murmured, your sadness bubbling to the surface.
Terzo smirked, pouring himself another glass of wine, "Maybe we can send him a virtual plate. I'm sure the clergy wouldn't mind that."
"Terzo..." Primo sighed, rolling his eyes in Terzo's direction. "We can, at the very least, set aside some leftovers for him," he suggested. "A Christmas meal will be waiting for him when he finally returns."
You managed a weak smile. "I just wish he could be here."
Terzo sighed, looking at you. He made his way to your direction and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Guess those unholier-than-thou vecchi need him to bless their turkey with a side of devilish charm or something."
Your gaze shifted to Terzo, and a laugh escaped you. He responded with a warm smile, exchanging the hand on your shoulder for a gentle touch on your face.
"Thank you," you said, with gratitude.
Terzo nodded appreciatively and turned away, taking his place at the table. "Can't let this food go to waste, can we? Mangiamo, sto morendo di fame."
With that, the four of you took your seats at the table. Though the absence of Copia cast a shadow over the celebration, the presence of Primo, Secondo and Terzo, eased the melancholy. After all, they had all made their way to the Ministry for this special occasion, and you felt a sense of responsibility not to let the festive spirit dwindle.
Secondo, in particular, had regaled the gathering with stories of meticulously crafting a turkey recipe he discovered in some book. Meanwhile, Terzo, had taken charge of the wine selection, claiming he didn't trust his brothers to make the right choices. Primo, had taken it upon himself to prepare cranberry sauce for the occasion. He proudly revealed that he had been cultivating cranberries in his house throughout the year, patiently waiting for this moment.
The four of you began serving yourselves. However, each time you glanced to your side, the empty seat served as a poignant reminder of Copia's absence. The realization that he wouldn't be home, sharing in the Christmas dinner, weighed heavily on your heart. The inexplicable demands of the clergy, only made it challenging to fully embrace the joy of the occasion.
However, your melancholic thoughts were momentarily interrupted when Secondo extended his arm towards you, pointing to the cranberry sauce placed in front of you. You looked at his hand and took the bowl, passing it to Secondo with a warm smile on your lips.
Primo began, leaning back in his seat. "It's good to have the family reunited. We haven't seen each other that much," he remarked, lifting his glass of wine for a sip. "Especially now that we're not tied up at the Ministry."
"Vero," Secondo agreed, his gaze briefly drifting to the empty seat. "Miss those times, even if they were chaotic."
Terzo, with a smirk, added, "Chaos and all, it was our chaos."
"Sì," Primo nodded, his expression softening. "But, at least we can enjoy Christmas without worrying about being summoned for some arcane ritual or paperwork."
Terzo raised his glass. "To getting a break."
The glasses chimed together in a harmonious toast, and each of you savored a sip of your drinks. Setting the glasses down on the table, you all returned to your meals, continuing to enjoy the Christmas feast.
Primo, his eyes sparkling with mischief, broke the silence. “Remember the time when we were younger and we decided to give the Ministry a taste of our version of Christmas caroling?”
Terzo grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “Ah, the ‘Satanic Carolers’ ensemble. Our renditions of classic carols with a satanic twist."
"And who can forget Terzo's attempt at caroling?" Secondo added, sharing a knowing look with Terzo.
Terzo rolled his eyes. "My rendition of 'Jingle Bells' was avant-garde."
“Of course,” Secondo replied with a touch of irony. “Truly groundbreaking.”
“What? You don’t appreciate my avant-garde style?” Terzo asked, turning his face to look at Secondo, who couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
Primo and you joined Secondo in laughter, and even Terzo, unable to resist the infectious moment, started to chuckle. With that, the four of you continued with the dinner, savoring the food and exchanging conversations filled with laughter.
Although Copia's absence lingered, the presence of his brothers somehow eased your melancholic thoughts, creating a sense of warmth. The only wish lingering in your mind was for Copia to be home tomorrow, sharing a Christmas lunch with the family.
As the hours slipped away, you all gradually set aside your plates, leaning back in your seats to savor a moment of contentment. Eventually, the four of you to rise and initiate the post-dinner cleanup. Plates and remnants of the feast were gathered, and you moved together to the kitchen.
Side by side, you worked on organizing the leftovers into the refrigerator and washing the dishes. The clatter of plates and the hum of conversation filled the kitchen. Once the tasks were completed, you four returned to the living room, reconvening around the dining table for more conversation and shared wine.
"I just want to thank you all for coming," you expressed with gratitude, a warm smile accompanying your words.
"You don't have to thank us," Primo replied warmly. "You're family now."
"It was great to have you planning this dinner for us," Terzo added.
"That's true, we appreciate it," Secondo acknowledged, taking a contemplative sip of his wine. "Should we get going now?"
Primo nodded ever so slightly, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Sì, we should be on our way," he suggested.
"Certo," Secondo concurred. "And thank you for the dinner," he added.
As Secondo and Primo spoke, the four of you gracefully made your way toward the entrance of the Papal Apartment. As you reached the door, you took hold of the doorknob, turning it to open the door for them. The trio stepped out into the hallway, turning to face you.
"Thank you all for coming and staying; I'm sure Copia would have enjoyed it."
"Non preoccuparti," Secondo reassured. "We'll be back for lunch tomorrow, sì?"
"I hope so; there's still an abundance of food left."
"We'll be here," Primo said, gracefully taking your hand and pressing a tender kiss onto the back of it. "Buona notte."
"Good night, Papa," you replied.
"Buona notte," Secondo nodded with a subtle gesture of farewell.
"Good night," you said, a warm smile lighting up your face.
"Buona notte. Don't forget to store the wine correctly for tomorrow," Terzo reminded.
"Of course, I wouldn't forget."
"Bene, molto bene," Terzo nodded, beginning to walk away. However, he paused, turned back to you, and walked in your direction. "I almost forgot," he said, placing his hand in his pocket and extending a neatly folded piece of paper to you. "That's from Copia. Buona fortuna."
Turning away, Terzo rejoined his brothers who were a few steps ahead. Clutching the neatly folded paper in your hand, you closed the door with a measured touch, your brows knit in anticipation. Walking towards the bedroom, you unfolded the paper with a sense of intrigue.
Upon reaching the bedroom, you paused in your steps, entering with a focused gaze fixed on the paper in your hands—Copia's handwritten note. As your eyes traced the lines, you began to read.
As you read these words, Terzo has faithfully passed on this message to you. No need to worry, everything's fine.
Remember the first time we bumped into each other at the Ministry? I was immersed in preparing the altar for the mass when you graced me with your presence.
Well, head back there. A little surprise awaits you.
Yours always,
Copia
What was this? What could Copia possibly mean with this note? A treasure hunt crossed your mind, and a laugh escaped your lips at the whimsical idea. Regardless, there was no time to linger on speculation. Your focus sharpened as you realized you needed to reach a specific destination—the Chapel.
Exiting your bedroom with hurried steps, excitement bubbled within you at the prospect of what awaited in the chapel. Could it be Copia? Probably wasn't, as he wasn't at the Ministry, and he wouldn't have skipped the Christmas dinner if he were. As you reached the front door of the Papal Apartment, you swung it open with a sense of urgency. The door closed behind you, and with purposeful strides, you made your way towards the chapel.
As you stepped into the chapel, the familiar scent of incense enveloped you, evoking memories of that first meeting. You still remember it—carrying Terzo's robes, you had entered to find Copia near the altar. He was still a Cardinal back then, and you were merely another sibling of sin toiling diligently within the Ministry. On that day, your paths crossed for the first time. Copia, in his red Cardinal robes, had glanced up as you entered. And for a moment your eyes met, and a subtle understanding passed between you—an unspoken connection.
Looking around the chapel, you felt a moment of uncertainty, you pondered where to go. However, as your gaze shifted towards the altar, a nostalgic sight caught your eye—the old red biretta that Copia used to wear. A bright smile illuminated your face as recognition dawned. You quickly made your way toward the altar, guided by the familiar presence of his cardinal hat.
Reaching for the altar, you delicately cradled the biretta in your hands, feeling the texture of its well-worn fabric. Softness filled your eyes as you gazed at the cardinal hat, a symbol of Copia's past. Nostalgia washed over you as you thought about the times when Copia was the Cardinal. There was a certain amusement in witnessing him in those distinctive red robes. It wasn't that you weren't proud of his role as Papa Emeritus IV; it was just the appreciation for the unique charm he exuded in his earlier cardinal days.
While appreciating Copia's biretta in your hands, you almost overlooked another folded paper hidden beneath it. Gently placing the cardinal hat back on the altar, you retrieved the concealed note. Unfolding it, your eyes were met with yet another message from Copia.
You know, I carry the memory of that day with me in my heart. It's impossible to forget. When our eyes met, it was as if time itself surrendered, leaving just you and me in this unholy Ministry, breathing and existing in the moment.
We didn't exchange words back then. You were busy with your tasks, and I had my own to tackle. Yet, I have a confession to make—I was dying to hear your voice.
Can you recall where we finally had our first conversation?
With love,
Copia
Finishing the note, you couldn't contain the excitement that had taken hold of you. Biting your lower lip, you pondered whether to take the biretta with you as a tangible connection to Copia. However, a decision was made to leave it on the altar, preserving the memory of your shared moments within the chapel.
As you walked away from the altar, your steps guided you toward the front door of the chapel. Exiting, you embarked on your way back to the place where your initial conversations with Copia had unfolded—the cafeteria.
The first conversation with Copia might not have been a grand affair, but it held a charm of its own. On that day, a lighthearted encounter in the cafeteria set the stage for a connection that would deepen over time.
It was a morning like any other, as you queued up to grab your breakfast. Unbeknownst to you, Copia entered the line right after you, standing behind. The comical twist came when both of you reached for the last juice box simultaneously, your hands meeting in the process. With a shared chuckle, Copia secured the juice box and extended it to you in a gentle gesture. However, you playfully declined, insisting he had reached for it first. It was a simple exchange marked by a twist of routine, as the juice box wasn't your first morning choice. But at this morning, for some reason, it was.
Entering the deserted cafeteria, your gaze was drawn to a familiar spot. Heading towards the food line, you spotted Copia's Cardinal gloves neatly placed, accompanied by a lone juice box. Placing your hand on top of the gloves, you ran your fingers over the lather textured fabric, and to your surprise, a slight sound echoed. Curiosity piqued, you picked up one of the gloves, discovering a folded paper tucked inside. Retrieving the concealed note, you unfolded it, eager to unveil the next message Copia had left for you.
Your voice, it's like the sweetest melody I've ever known. And when you laugh, it's like a warm embrace for my heart.
I want you to know how much I cherish that moment when you chose that juice box on that fateful day, and your generosity in leaving it for me didn't go unnoticed. So now, I'm saving one just for you.
Our talk that day may not have been long, but little did we know, it would set the stage for more conversations between us. We became friends, and over time, I found myself falling in love with you. And then, summoning every ounce of courage, I finally told you about my feelings.
Do you still recall that day? Do you remember where I bared my heart and told you I loved you?
Don't forget the juice box,
Copia
A chuckle escaped you as you finished reading the note, and you couldn't help but be amused by Copia's playful hints. Reaching for the juice box, you deftly removed the straw from the back, unwrapping it before inserting it into the box. Taking a sip, a smile played on your lips as memories flooded back. The taste of the juice box held a unique significance, as his kisses, sometimes tasted like the very juice you were sipping.
Yet, this wasn't the time for sentimental reflections. Pushing aside those emotions, you took a deep breath and made your way out of the cafeteria, heading towards the next destination—the hallways. But not just any hallway, a specific one, guided by the clues Copia had left for you.
As time passed, the bond between you and Copia deepened. Your moments together became more frequent, and you discovered comfort in each other's presence. Sneaking into his Cardinal's cabinet became a routine, a chance to share the day, whether in conversation or in peaceful silence. In those quiet moments, the ease between you two reassured you that there was nothing to worry about.
The day Copia confessed his love for you was entirely unexpected. The two of you were strolling down the hallway en route to the library, where Copia needed to organize some archives. You offered him a helping hand, even though you were fairly certain he didn't require any assistance. Surprisingly, he accepted your offer.
As you walked together, a comfortable silence settled between you. The rhythmic sound of your synchronized footsteps echoed through the empty corridor. Suddenly, out of nowhere, his voice broke the silence, uttering three words that initially took a moment to register. After a brief pause, your mind comprehended—Copia had just said, "I love you."
And just as Copia had fallen in love, so had you.
Approaching the spot in the hallway where Copia had confessed his love, you noticed a folder lying on the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, you discovered a paper tucked inside. Pulling out the note, you unfolded it, eager to read the words wrote by Copia, perhaps offering another clue in the unfolding mystery of this treasure hunt.
The confession just burst out of me, guided by an overwhelming desire to shout my love to the world. I thought I might regret it, but to my surprise, I didn't—never have.
The day I confessed my love was also the day I kissed you. Though, regrettably, it didn't happen right then. Just as I spilled my feelings, some siblings showed up, and we hastily made our way to the library. The ensuing silence was the most agonizing I've ever endured in your presence. Saying "I love you" without hearing it back left me sweating beneath my cassock.
Yet, when we finally left, you spoke those words at the very spot where we had our first kiss. Can you recall where that was? We're almost at the end of this little game, and your gift awaits there.
I love you. I love you more than words can express. I wish I could whisper those three words to you every minute of my day,
Copia
Taking a deep breath, you leaned against the cold marble wall in the hallway, feeling its chill against your back. That day, and the kiss you both shared, are etched in your memory. When he uttered those three words, your heart threatened to burst, and the inability to reciprocate immediately left you in a momentary desperation.
From that moment onward, not a day passed without both of you expressing your love for each other. Stepping away from the chilly wall, you eagerly headed towards the place where your love story began—the Cardinal's cabinet.
After leaving the library that day, both of you carried archives in your hands, enveloped in a shared silence. The synchronicity of your steps faltered, as his pace quickened, and you hurriedly followed him down the hallway to his cabinet. And as you both entered the cabinet, Copia remained silent, almost as if he were anticipating something.
As you closed the door behind you and confessed your love, Copia turned towards you, drawing his face closer, almost reaching the point of a kiss. Perplexingly, he paused, perhaps awaiting a cue. In your impatience, you closed the gap before he could, and both of you let the archives fall to the floor, embracing each other passionately.
Standing in front of his old cabinet's door, uncertainty lingered about whether it would swing open. You reached for the doorknob and found it unexpectedly open. Pushing it open, you stepped into the now vacant space, a testament to his transfer to Papa's office.
Looking around the room, nothing immediately caught your eye. Wandering around, you systematically checked every nook and cranny, rifling through drawers and inspecting empty shelves. The note remained elusive. It wasn't until you halted beside his table and glanced towards the door that you spotted the note, suspended by a piece of tape.
You placed the empty juice box on the top of his old desk, hurrying to the door with a smile. You took the note and unfolded it, eager to read the note left for you.
When those three words finally escaped your lips, an irresistible urge propelled me to kiss you immediately. Yet, a fleeting doubt crossed my mind—was it a reciprocation or a repetition? However, as you closed the gap and our lips met, I understood, and the taste of that kiss is etched in my memory.
We shared numerous kisses within the Ministry, especially in this cabinet. One night, you lingered with me until the late hours. I wrapped up my work, and just like any other day, I planted a goodnight kiss on your lips. However, that kiss took an unexpected turn, leading us somewhere else.
In that place, we became one.
Your gift awaits there,
Copia
Opening the door to his old cabinet, you swiftly exited, closing it behind you with determination. Without a second thought, you knew it was time for your last stop—his old chambers.
The night referenced in the note held the memory of the evening you and Copia shared a heated kiss—an unforgettable moment when neither of you wanted to part. The unspoken desire lingering in that kiss set the stage for what felt like an inevitable path towards spending your first night together. Copia, sensing the shared passion, asked if you wanted to accompany him to his chambers.
Without hesitation, you accepted. As you both entered his chambers, your lips were already engaged in a fervent kiss. The desire between you two was palpable, prompting a delicate dance of undressing without breaking the kiss. As you both managed to shed your clothes, each second of separation filled with a longing that only intensified the desire.
On that night, as the note exposed, you and Copia became one. And it proved to be one of the most memorable and intimate nights you had ever shared with someone.
Approaching the door to his chambers, a soft glow of candlelight seeped through the narrow gap underneath. Your hand reached for the doorknob, and as you opened the door, the room revealed itself bathed in the gentle illumination of flickering candles. The ambiance was serene, with nothing out of place except for the impeccably made bed.
Stepping inside, you closed the door behind you, enveloping the room in a sense of intimacy. A warm smile graced your lips as you took a moment to survey the familiar surroundings. It had been a while since you last set foot in this space—since Copia ascended to the role of Papa Emeritus and subsequently moved to the Papal Apartment, inviting you to join him.
Approaching his neatly made bed, you noticed the final folded paper resting on top. Picking it up, you unfolded it with anticipation, ready to read the last message that Copia had left for you.
You, the most sinful creation molded by the skilled hands of our Dark Lord, leave me utterly enchanted. Every nuance of your body, every inch, every fragment, fuels an ever-growing love within me. It's almost surreal to think that Satan himself could have blessed me with you, but I express gratitude to him daily.
This place holds the memories of our first time and countless others. It's where you truly became mine, and I became yours. I brought you here with the simple desire to reclaim you as mine once again.
I promised you a gift, didn't I? So, why don't you turn around?
Finishing the note, you raised your head and turned your body, only to find Copia on his knees right behind you. A sweet smile adorned his face as he extended his hand toward you. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and you bit your lower lip to contain the emotions welling up within you.
Extending your hand to meet his, Copia delicately held it, placing a tender kiss on the back and brushing his nose against it. As he lifted his head to meet your gaze, parting his lips.
"We've been together for so many years," he began, his words laced with sentiment. "Countless memories, myriad places, and an abundance of moments that have woven our lives together. You've been the constant flame that has illuminated my heart, making each moment brighter and more meaningful. Your love has become the sacred devotion that binds me to you," with another tender kiss on the back of your hand, he continued, "I brought you here today because I want to recommit myself to you, to reclaim you as mine. And no, amore mio, I'm not talking about the physical aspect. Would you honor me with the privilege of marrying me?" he asked, his gaze sincere and filled with love.
"W-What?" you stammered, your eyes widening in surprise. "What did you just say?"
He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting nervously. "I asked you if you want to... Eeh..." As he started to stand up from his knees, uncertainty painted his expression. "I- I... Maybe it's too soon, sì?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of self-doubt.
A stunned silence enveloped you as you processed what had just transpired—Copia had just proposed. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt his hands gently touching your face, cupping it, and turning it towards him. Your eyes locked, and in that intimate gaze, you could discern a subtle tremor in his usually composed demeanor.
"Copia..." you whispered, your voice soft as you closed your eyes.
"S-Sì?" His response held a hint of anticipation and nervousness.
"It's not too soon," a smile graced your lips as you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. "You don't have to ask me twice; of course, I'll marry you."
"Vita mia..." he whispered, drawing his face closer to yours, hovering just inches away, teasing with the possibility of a kiss. "Are you attempting to assassinate your Papa at Christmas?"
You laughed, shaking your head gently. "Never," you replied. "You simply caught me off guard."
"Isn't that how marriage proposals should be?" he inquired, tilting his head, his thumbs tenderly caressing your cheeks.
"I guess?" you smiled, your gaze moving from his eyes to his inviting lips.
“I'm sure of it, amore,” he whispered, his lips brushing the corner of yours, "So, do your Papa get his Christmas kiss now, or should he expect for a mistletoe?"
You grinned, your eyes twinkling mischievously. “How about both?” Your lips hovered closer, the temptation growing with each passing moment. "Although I don't have a mistletoe with me right now..."
With a nearly imperceptible nod, Copia closed the lingering distance between you. His lips finally united with yours in a romantic, unhurried kiss, steeped in both longing and devotion. His hands cradled your face with tenderness, while your own settled at his waist, fingers grasping his shirt with a touch of possessiveness.
The kiss unfolded with a deliberate slowness, a dance of passion free from the urgency of teeth and tongues. It spoke volumes of a love so profound that words paled in comparison. As the connection deepened, you found yourself surrendering to the moment, lost in its enchantment.
The gentle caress of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His touch, gentle yet firm, prompted your arms to wrap around his neck, drawing him nearer as his own encircled your waist, holding you close. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, creating a comforting heat. The rhythmic thud of his heart against your chest resonated in harmony.
The sweetness of his mouth lingered, fueling a desire for more. Your arms left his neck, trailing down his back, pulling him in closer. His response was an intensified kiss, his tongue delicately exploring the contours of your mouth.
The connection deepened, an electric current coursing through your body. It felt as if an invisible force tethered you two, compelling a response. Your lips parted, allowing an intricate dance of tongues to unfold. As the intensity peaked, you summoned the strength to pull away, your fingers gradually tracing a path with your fingertips from his back to his chest.
"Copia..." the velvety tone of your voice wrapped around his name.
"Sì, amore mio?" He responded, gently.
"When did you arrive here?" You traced your fingers along the contours of his chest, a playful smile dancing on your lips.
"Not a long time ago," he replied, his hands moving from your waist to your hips, drawing you in closer.
Your fingers toyed with the fabric around his neck, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "So you planned all of this?"
He hesitated for a moment before replying, "Euhh... Sì..."
A mock expression of anger crossed your face as you accused, "So you knew you'd be at the Ministry, and you lied to me!"
"Oh, amore mio," he chuckled, leaning his face closer to yours once again. "I wasn't certain about the exact time I'd arrive. I needed to be sure I could make it work. But It was a good reason to lie, sì?"
"How long have you been planning this?" you inquired in a soft tone.
Copia turned to you, the smile still gracing his face. “I’ve wanted to ask you this for a long time. Since I realized how you make my dark world brighter, and I can’t imagine myself with anyone else. I can't wait to spend the rest of my existence making you as happy as you make me."
"Copia, I'm already happy by your side," you murmured. "But, you know," you began, tracing circles on his chest with your fingertips, "you're not getting away with proposing without answering some important questions."
Copia grinned, his eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you. "Ask away, vita mia."
"Firstly," you said, feigning a serious tone, "how did you manage to plan all this without me catching a single hint? I thought I knew all your secrets."
Copia chuckled, his thumb gently caressing your hand. "A Papa Emeritus always has a few tricks up his sleeve."
"Nice answer," a giggle escaped from your lips. "Secondly, was this grand proposal plan your own masterpiece, or did your brothers offer their expert opinions?"
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "As much as I'd love to credit Primo, Secondo and Terzo with impeccable romantic taste, this plan was all mine. I wanted it to be special, just for us. However, they helped me to gain some time."
"They did what?" You laughed. "Smooth, Papa. Very smooth. Now, the last and most crucial question—did you rehearse your proposal lines in front of a mirror?"
"Oh!" Copia's expression shifted to a mockingly serious tone. "Absolutely not!" He followed it with a playful chuckle. "Eh, maybe just a little?"
You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. "A little?"
"Well, every great performance deserves a bit of rehearsal, sì?" Copia grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Vieni qui, amore mio," he gently pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together, and took your lips in another kiss.
This time, the kiss was deeper and passionate. Copia's touch ignited a fire within you. His hands explored your body with a hunger. Fingers traced sensuous patterns along your sides, dipped down to your hips, and returned to the curve of your waist. Copia's arms enveloped you, pulling you close as if he couldn't get enough of the taste, the touch, the essence of you.
As a soft moan escaped your lips, Copia's tongue danced with yours in a passionate exploration. Your arms tightened around his neck, and you responded eagerly, deepening the connection. Copia sighed into the kiss, his head tilting to intensify the intimate dance. Your tongues met in a heated battle, and he groaned against your lips.
Once again, Copia's hands roamed your body, trailing along your spine and tracing the contours of your curves. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Your bodies molded together seamlessly, and every sensation became a blur of pleasure. Copia's lips moved with a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart.
The kiss intensified, and a symphony of moans, sighs, and the occasional purr resonated between you. Copia's breath mingled with yours, creating an intoxicating match of lust. The kiss became a fusion of desire and longing, that left you breathless and craving more.
But with a reluctant sigh, you summoned the strength to pull away—gasping for air. Your lips lingering for a moment longer before parting. The air crackled with the energy of the heated kiss, and Copia's eyes, still darkened with desire, met yours.
"S-Should we head upstairs...?" you inquired, your breath catching.
Copia's eyes, clouded with desire, met yours as he caught his breath. "As much as I'd love to, amore mio," he murmured, "I've missed you so much, and if we go upstairs, I won't be able to contain myself in the middle of the way."
You couldn't help but chuckle at his playful tone. "Oh, so you're saying you'd lose control?"
Copia's grin widened, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "Entirely. I'm just a Papa who's been missing his better half."
"So why don't you fuck me right here, on your own bed, like you've missed me so much?"
Copia's eyes deepened with desire, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he fixed his gaze on you. Mischief flickered in his mismatched eyes. "Are you absolutely certain about what you're asking?" he inquired, his voice taking on a husky tone.
"I'm well aware of what I'm asking for," you whispered, trailing your tongue from his lips to the tip of his nose.
"Cazzo, ti amo così tanto," he murmured with a voice heavy with desire.
Copia enveloped you in his arms, and you guided him towards his bed. Grasping the fabric around his neck, you pulled him with you until your calves met the mattress. Sensing it, you gradually descended, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Copia positioned himself on his knees in front of you, maintaining an unwavering gaze. Without diverting his eyes, he initiated the task of undressing you, deliberately unhurried in his movements.
As he finished undressing you, leaving you only in your underwear, he planted a tender peck on your lips. "Don't move," he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of lustful anticipation.
Copia rose, beginning to work on unbuttoning his shirt, but he halted abruptly as you drew your face closer to his crotch, lightly brushing your lips against his evident bulge. You turned your attention to him, mouthing the undoing of his pants, causing Copia to inhale sharply, biting his lower lip. His hand found its way to your head, gently caressing your scalp, and he knelt in front of you once again.
Copia's eyes glinted with a playful intensity as he whispered, his voice tinged with lust, "You're behaving like a very naughty mischief-maker. I don't think Santa will give you a present this year."
A mischievous smile played on your lips as you reached up, cupping his face in your hand and gently caressing his cheek. "And what about you, Papa?" you asked, your tone a sultry invitation. "Will you give me a present?"
Copia's gaze held yours, a hint of desire dancing in his eyes. "Oh, amore mio," he replied, his voice a seductive murmur, "I have a present for you that Santa could never deliver."
He drew closer, pressing his face against your neck, initiating a series of kisses and gentle licks. In that moment, a rush of anticipation surged within you as he drew near. His lips sought yours in a kiss that blended gentleness with passion. His tongue traced the curves of your mouth, hinting at the pleasure yet to unfold. Eagerly, your lips parted, inviting him in, and a tantalizing dance ensued as your tongues entwined, orchestrating a sensuous tango that erased the world around you.
Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, and you gracefully reclined on your back, maintaining the kiss without breaking its spell. Copia, crawled on top of you, his movements deliberate and confident.
His body seamlessly melding with yours in a flawless union. With each movement, the fabric of his clothes provided no resistance to the warmth of his skin. The linen material of his shirt glided between your bodies, generating a sensuous friction that intensified every touch and caress.
The weight of his body upon yours provided both comfort and arousa. Arching against him, you yearned for increased contact and friction. His hands delicately explored every curve and crevice of your body, leaving a lingering trail of electricity in their wake.
Breaking the kiss, he shifted his attention to nibble on your neck, the sensation of his stubble grazing against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine. His lips returned to yours, and as his hand descended, it cupped your ass, drawing you closer. The friction of his hardness against your mound became almost intoxicating. A moan escaped your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss as he deepened the connection.
The rhythm of his hips synchronized with the beat of your heart. His fingers skillfully navigated between you two, indulging in delicate touches on your thighs before ascending higher. His palm grazed your warmth through your underwear, eliciting a gasp that sent tickles of pleasure coursing through your body. Fingers tightly gripped his hair as you held him close, writhing beneath him, yearning for more of his intoxicating touch.
As if sensing your desires, Copia broke the kiss. "Amore mio, I want to feel you," his lips traced a tantalizing path along your jawline, nibbling your earlobe. "Do you want me to to make you cum, amore? Do you want me to make you scream my name?" His fingers deftly slid beneath the fabric of your underwear, gently stroking your clit, igniting a fire of sensation that left you breathless.
Eagerly nodding your head, your hips instinctively bucked, your core pulsating against his skilled fingers. Copia chuckled devilishly at your response. With your back arching, an unspoken invitation, he seized the opportunity, lifting you just enough to deftly slip off your underwear.
"You're so wet," he murmured. "I can feel how much you want me."
You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, and with a sense of urgency, you reached down to stroke him through his jeans. A deep groan escaped Copia's lips, the resonant sound vibrating through you, heightening the anticipation. Copia, attuned to your needs, returned his hand to your wetness, trailing his gloved fingers along your slit before skillfully sliding one finger inside of you. The sensation ignited a surge of pleasure, causing your inner walls to clench in response.
Moaning, you found it difficult to articulate words as Copia withdrew his finger from inside you, tracing a teasing path along your wet slit. The sensation left you aching for more. He slid one gloved finger inside you again, followed by another, filling you in a way that made your toes curl with pleasure. The initial slow and deliberate movements gave way to a faster, harder rhythm as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.
"Oh, fuck!" you gasped, grabbing his hand as it ventured between your thighs. "yes-yes-yes-yes! Just-Ah! Copia! Calm down, or you'll make me cum fast!"
"Calm down?" he inquired, his gaze filled with desire. "I'm perfectly composed, amore. Just doing as instructed, fucking you like I've been missing you."
Your moans intensified, head tossed back, hips gyrating against his hand. Introducing a third finger, he expanded you further, evoking a cry from your lips. Copia skillfully curled his fingers, striking your sweet spot, unleashing waves of pleasure that caused your eyes to roll back and your lips to part. Gripping his shoulders, you dug your nails into him as he persistently worked his fingers in and out of you.
"CoO-Oh-pia!" your voice quivered, your legs beginning to tremble. "Co...Co...Copia-Ah! Ple-Plea...Please!"
He instinctively lowered his body, withdrawing his fingers from you. Swiftly, his face moved between your legs, engulfing your essence with an eager pull, consuming every inch with his mouth. From the base to the summit and back down, he licked you in a rhythmic repetition. He repeated this motion over and over, sucking your clit as he did so.
"Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, squeezing your eyes shut. "For the love of Satan, Copia!"
Copia chuckled against your wetness, then closed his eyes and placed his hands on your thighs, keeping them open for him. He persisted in licking and sucking, his tongue darting in and out, exploring every inch of your wetness. Advancing to your clit, he flicked it with the tip of his tongue before drawing it into his mouth once more.
Drawing his head back from your core, you gasped, feeling the absence of sensations. As you opened your eyes, you were met with his smudged face, the paint around his lips almost turning gray. Casting a mischievous glance at you, Copia darted his tongue out, licking your slit while locking eyes with you. The intense gaze prompted you to bite your lower lip in response.
"You're quite the sight, Copia," you teased.
"Trying to provoke me, amore?" he asked with a husky voice, lowering his face to your wetness once again, his lips grazing against your folds. "Ever heard that it's not polite to make fun of someone while they're enjoying their meal? Consider this my Christmas dinner. Don't tempt me too much, or you might find yourself the messy one here soon."
Wearing a devilish grin, he licked his lips, relishing the taste of you. Unable to resist, a smile played on your lips as you felt the warmth of his mouth against your core. Copia's eyes focused on your face, studying your features. Suddenly, a low groan escaped his lips, and he delved back into devouring your wetness with renewed enthusiasm. His tongue danced around your clit, prompting you to writhe in ecstasy. The fervor of his licks sent electric shocks of pleasure coursing through your entire body.
"C-Copia... I swear, you're going to make me cum..." you whimpered.
"No, I won't," he declared, withdrawing his head from your core. "Because you're only allowed to cum on my cock and with my cock inside you, capito?"
You nodded, and Copia smirked. Unexpectedly, he thrust his tongue inside you, skillfully swirling it around your walls. A whimper escaped your lips as pleasure surged through you. Your hips arched from the bed, and you ground your core against his face, sliding your clit up and down his nose. With one hand, you reached to grab his head, pressing it firmly against your core. Copia intensified his exploration of your wetness, rolling his eyes in pleasure, breathing warmly against your entrance. The sensation of his breath caused your legs to tremble.
You slid your hand to the top of his head, gently pulling it away as you shifted your hips back. Copia, undeterred, pulled you back towards him, gripping your thighs tightly. Leaving one hand on your thigh, he ventured with the other to your core, thrusting two gloved fingers inside you. A scream escaped your lips at the sensation of his fingers filling you, only to be followed by another cry as his thumb found your clit, skillfully rubbing it in circles, sending waves of pleasure that drove you wild.
"No! Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, your breath coming fast. "Copia, please... you know I can't hold it if you do it like that."
Maintaining his fingers inside you, he gracefully positioned himself atop you, his face hovering above yours. His knees pressed against your legs, parting them for him. Your gaze met his, and he gently rested his forehead against yours. You tilted your face, capturing a tender kiss from his lips, all the while wrapping your arms around his neck.
"Don't play naughty, amore," he growled. "Behave, and you just might unwrap your present."
"P-Present...? Ah!" you gasped. "What present, Papa?"
"My cock, fucking you the way you like it," he whispered huskily.
He persisted, his fingers maintaining a steady rhythm as they moved in and out of you. Your orgasm was steadily building, and you could feel your juices flowing, coating his gloved fingers as they expertly maneuvered inside of you. A loud moan escaped your lips, prompting him to intensify the pace of his fingers, thrusting deeper and faster. The room echoed with the sound of his leather gloves sliding inside you, merging with the symphony of your breath.
This sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you knew you were close, but Copia abruptly halted, withdrawing his fingers. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips, yearning for more, craving the continued touch.
"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice quivering with desire.
Copia smirked, "You want more?"
"Yes..." you purred, "please."
Copia's smile deepened, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and mischief. "Not yet," he declared, his voice low. "I want to make it last."
His fingers traced a tantalizing path along your inner thighs, eliciting shivers of anticipation. Moving his hand between your legs, his fingers found your wetness once again. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your breath now coming in short gasps.
"Stop teasing me," you pleaded. "I need your cock."
Copia grinned devilishly, his hands reaching for your legs as he pulled back, getting on his knees in front of you. "Do you, amore?" He went for his pants, starting to undo them, letting his length swing free. "You want my cock?" he asked, using his gloved hand—still coated with your juices—to stroke his member lazily.
"Yes!" you gasped, your eyes fixed on the glistening tip of his member. "Please, I ache for your cock inside me."
Copia bit his lower lip while stroking his length, the wetness on his palm audibly spreading along his arousal. He began to breathe heavily and closed his eyes. Sensing the charged atmosphere, you slowly slid your hand between your legs, teasing your clit with circular motions.
Trying to stifle your moans, you pressed your lips together and whimpered, observing him pleasing himself in front of you. Continuing to tease your clit, you couldn't resist any longer, sliding two fingers inside yourself. Arching your back, you moaned loud as you began thrusting them in and out, succumbing to the pleasure building within you.
Copia's voice reached your ears, prompting you to open your eyes. "What are you doing?" he inquired.
Your eyes locked onto Copia's, who had a look of pure satisfaction on his face. Seeing your own enjoyment reflected in his expression. You increased the pace, moving your fingers faster and deeper, the sensations becoming too much to handle. You could feel your body tingling with pleasure, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you would succumb to the intense sensations.
"Why are you playing with my dinner?" He adopted a more serious tone, grabbing your hand to stop you.
"C-Copia..." you took a deep breath. "I just need... I need you..."
Copia sighed, shaking his head, skillfully guiding his member between your folds as he pulled your fingers out of your entrance. You instinctively moved your hips, as if craving more, attempting to adjust your entrance to the tip of his length. However, Copia halted you, placing a firm hand on your stomach and gently lowering your hips.
"No..." Copia murmured, firmly holding his member and delivering a teasing slap against your wetness, the sound resonating through the room. "Comportati."
Copia sensually brought your fingers to his mouth, licking and mouthing them with a moan that echoed softly. As his mouth closed around your fingers, his tongue skillfully contoured them, creating an arousing suction. Meanwhile, he increased the pace of his self-stimulation, moving his hips in a rhythmic thrust against his own hand. The tip of his member collided with your heat, expertly rubbing against your clit.
He pulled your fingers out of his mouth with a distinct "pop" sound and gave them a final lick, locking eyes with you. "Turn for me, amore," he commanded, tapping your waist.
Obediently, you turned your body, laying down on your stomach, but swiftly, Copia gripped your waist, pulling your hips up to meet his. The sensation of his member pressed against you ignited a fervent response, and you began to move your hips, stealing a glance at him behind you. Unperturbed, Copia started removing his gloves, an act that hinted at his effort to restrain himself.
As he peeled off his gloves, his bare hands reached for your hips, sensually caressing them. "So desperate for me, amore," he whispered. "I love it when you're like that."
"Please, Copia," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you. Fuck me."
His eyes darkened with desire as he observed your hips moving against him. Biting his lip, he struggled to maintain control but succumbed to the overwhelming temptation. His hands found their way to your back, skillfully massaging away the tension from your muscles. The touch was firm yet gentle, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His hand glided down the small of your back, cupping one of your ass cheeks in his palm.
"I want you too," his hands shifted to your hips, pulling them closer to him.
His hardness pressed more insistently against you as he drew himself closer. "Fuck me, Copia."
With a groan, Copia pressed his hardness against your entrance. You were so wet that he slid in easily, filling you completely with one thrust. A moan escaped your lips, your body arching back into him. Copia began to move slowly, savoring the sensation of being inside you. Your body felt like heaven, and he wanted to make the experience last as long as possible. His hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he moved within you.
Copia, his voice low and filled with a seductive rasp, whispered, "Feel the pleasure, my sinful muse, as our bodies intertwine," he smiled and began to move faster. "Like an offering to the darkness that binds us," he continued, slamming into you with each trust. "Every moan, every gasp, a hymn in the name our unholy communion on this unholy night."
You gasped at his words, gripping the sheets firmly as Copia picked up the pace, driving into you harder and faster. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through you, his length hitting your cervix repeatedly, delving deeper with every movement. He lowered his body on top of yours, reaching for your hands to hold them firmly. Pressing kisses on your cheek, he traced a path from there to your back, leaving a trail of sensation in his wake.
"Yes, Copia... Mmm... Copia," you purred, your eyes closing as you held his hand in a firm grip. "Oh, yes, just like that! You fuck me so good."
"You're so tight," he said, his voice husky with desire. "I can't help but fuck you harder."
Your bodies moved in unison, a dance of perfect harmony. His hips slammed against your ass cheeks, the rhythmic sound filling the room and intertwining with your shared breaths and moans. His hands left yours, he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you firmly against him. The sensation of his hardness sliding in and out of you was incredible, and you were lost in pleasure, the loud moans that came out of your mouth became unable to control.
"Pap-Ahhh..." you moaned, your eyes fluttering in pleasure as you felt his steady rhythm, his member sliding in and out of your tightness with ease.
His thrusts quickened, the audible sound of flesh slapping against flesh growing louder. Copia released his arms from around you, straightening his body. Temporarily halting his thrusts, he moved his hands to his shirt, skillfully unbuttoning it. Turning your head to watch, you clenched your walls around him, the anticipation building as his body was slowly revealed. His hairy chest formed a trail of masculinity down to his happy trail, prompting you to bite your lower lip.
Fueled by lust, you seized control, slamming your hips against him and taking charge of the rhythm, fucking yourself on his length. Copia let out a guttural growl, tearing off his shirt and tossing it aside. His hands returned to your hips, and he watched you intently as you moved your hips against his.
"Sì, sì, sì," he moaned. "Sì-Ah! Amore mio, you're amazing, so perfect for me, so eager," his fingers digging into your skin. "So hot, so wet, so tight, so incredibly beautiful as you ride my cock."
His eyes brimmed with lust, the hunger evident in their depths. His hands on your hips guided your movements as he started to move his own hips against yours. Abruptly, he pulled back, eliciting a whimper of emptiness from you as your hips fell onto the bed. Rising from the bed, he swiftly pulled his pants down, leaving them discarded on the floor.
Copia returned to the bed, crawling on top of you. Lowering his face onto the top of your back, he pressed a tender kiss on your shoulder and cheek. "Are you ready to cum for me, amore?" he whispered, brushing his nose against your cheek.
Your eyes locked onto each other, a silent understanding passing between you as you nodded. Copia responded with a smirk, supporting his hands on the bed, lifting his body. Skillfully moving his hips, he adjusted his position behind you and effortlessly guided his member back inside you, delving even deeper.
The moment he entered you, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You felt his shaft stretching you to the limit, filling every inch of your body with his warmth. The sensation was overwhelming as he began to move inside you, each thrust sending waved of pleasure coursing through your veins.
"Make me cum," you purred. "And fill me with your cum, Papa."
Continuing his rhythmic motions, he clutched the sheets for leverage. You pressed your hips against him, mirroring the increasing intensity of his pace. Your body responded eagerly to the sensations he crafted. His breathing grew heavier, each exhale carrying a sense of urgency, and his movements became more intense and erratic.
"I'm going to cum, amore," he announced. "I'm going to fill your tight, warm pussy."
You could feel his member pulsing inside you, and then, with a final thrust, he released himself within you. The sensation of his seed filling you up sent you over the edge. Your body trembled as the waves of your orgasm washed over you. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing against you as you both caught your breath, your bodies shuddering in the aftermath of pleasure.
Copia delicately withdrew from your body, a lingering trace of his essence left behind. Reclining beside you, his body turned towards yours, he extended a gentle hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb. A weary smile adorned your face, and he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.
With closed eyes, you slowly shifted towards him, seeking proximity. Copia encircled his arms around you, pulling you closer. His forehead parted from yours, planting a tender kiss on it. As you bit your lip, your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze with a mix of emotions.
"I love you," he declared, his eyes brimming with adoration.
"I love you more," you playfully countered.
"That's impossible, amore mio," he chuckled. "After all, it was I who proposed to you tonight, so that means I love you more."
"Does it?" you began, adopting a teasing tone. "But Copia, if you proposed to me, where's the... ring?" you chuckled.
"Uh... Eh!" With a confidant grin, he turned his back to you reaching for his pants on the floor, delving into his pants' pocket. He pulled it out with his hand closed, turning his body back to your direction. With a theatrical flair, he opened his hand, revealing the ring nestled in his palm. "Ta-da!" he exclaimed, a glint of triumph in his eyes.
A soft chuckle escaped you as you leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss onto his lips. Copia reciprocated by reaching for your hand, bringing it closer to his face and pressing a tender kiss onto the back of your hand. His touch was gentle yet deliberate as he delicately slipped the ring onto your finger. As the ring found its place, a radiant smile adorned his lips, and his eyes sparkled with joy as he admired the newly adorned hand.
"Well, I guess that means we're stuck with each other now," you said, a warm smile playing on your lips.
"Forever, amore," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of joy and affection. Leaning in for another kiss, he paused just before closing the gap.
Yearning for him to close the gap, your hand goes to his face, cupping his cheek as you stare at him. "What's wrong?"
His eyes sparkled with adoration as he caressed the back of your hand. He stared at you in silence for a moment, you can see his eyes tracing the features of your face “I'm really in love with you," a wide smile start to grew on is lips. "Merry Christmas, my soon-to-be forever partner."
And then, with that, Copia closed the gap between you two, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both sweet and slow. The taste lingered, carrying the feeling of the shared promise of forever.
Grammar
Amore (mio) - My love
Per favore, mi dispiace - Please, I'm sorry
Ti amo così tanto - I love you so much
Gruppo di vecchi, rabbiosi idioti - Group of old, grumpy idiots
Fratello - Brother
Stai zitto - Be quiet
Vecchi - Old
Mangiamo, sto morendo di fame - Let's eat, I'm starving
“Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”
**WARNING - NSFW CONTENT - MDNI**
Summary: After the Ministry Christmas party, you join Terzo in his bedchamber for some festive activities.
CW/Tags: established relationship, clothed female nude male, blowjob, penetrative sex (P in V), condom use, cunnilingus, face-sitting, face fucking
Word Count: 4381
Available on AO3! Primo | Secondo | Terzo | Copia (coming soon!)
Author’s Note: This is the third day of the four-part series XXXmas at the Ministry, a collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat, @molly-ghuleh, and @bupia - please read their works too!
Happy Hornidays! ❄️
xoxo, the Naughty Ghulehs 💋
Primo | Secondo | Copia (coming soon!)
A HUGE thank you to AlexandrMcQueer on Twitter for the accompanying artwork! Check out the full NSFW on her Twitter. Her comms are OPEN!
Tonight was finally the night of the annual Ministry Christmas party, and Christmas Eve. Papa needed your help to pull everything off, so all week you were scheduling with the bakers, the cooks, the cleaning crew, and decorating.
But after this evening, you could relax. Well, aside from tending to Papa’s needs and making sure the ghouls didn’t get too soused that it ruined their unholiday in the morning. But after the party, you could enjoy the festivities.
Everyone began milling about and socializing in the main hall, picking at the large charcuterie spread and ladling punch or eggnog into glasses. It looked like everyone from the Clergy was there. Even Imperator and Nihil showed up, though they did not seem too sociable, seating themselves at a table in the corner. Primo immediately sat himself in one of the few chairs scattered around the hall with a large mug of something warm.
Suddenly the ghouls began whooping and you turned your head to see Terzo enter in a lavish looking Santa suit - it was made of crushed red velour with flecks of red sparkles and appeared to be trimmed with white feathers.
“Nice suit, Terzo,” you quipped, eyeing him up and down as he approached you.
“That’s Papa Claus to you, principessa,” he said with a snarky grin and giving you a smooch on the lips. “And you’re Santa’s little helper.”
That you were. He’d ordered you the shortest green elf dress, although the skirt was more like a tulle tutu. The outfit was a whole ensemble, complete with an elf hat with ears, pointy shoes with bells on the end, and candy cane patterned tights. You felt ridiculous, but ’tis the season.
Everyone was in their best holiday attire - anything from ugly Christmas sweaters to formal wear. The ghouls were all dressed in elf costumes, with the exception of Dew, who was dressed as Rudolph - an antler headband fitted over his mask and a red nose strapped to the front of his mask.
Cardinal Copia was wearing an old Saint Nick red and gold cloak over his red cassock, and a poorly made attachable white beard. Secondo was dressed in an all black 3 piece suit that had a subtle fleur de lis pattern, and was chatting with one of Primo’s ghouls.
The night went on, and you were actually managing to have fun. The ghouls turned one of the snack tables into a flip cup station (much to your dismay as you shuffled the catering staff carrying fresh trays of food back into the kitchen) and several of the Siblings started Christmas karaoke, with a very drunk-looking Copia taking the lead.
Terzo flitted between you and the rest of the guests, chatting with various Clergy members (and skillfully dodging Imperator each time). He snuck up behind you, squeezing your ass.
“Make sure these old fucks are having fun, eh?” he said lowly in your ear, nodding backwards to the senior members of the Clergy.
“And just how am I supposed to do that?” you said, one eyebrow raised, his hand still under your skirt.
He winked at you, handing you a bottle of opened bourbon before cupping your ass cheek in his hand and rubbing it. “We’ll cheers soon, then I can have you all to myself.” He leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”
He clapped you on the ass then darted between people again. “Everybody - eggnog!” he shouted towards the crowd, raising his arms up. He was herding everyone to the center. You thought you might die on the spot from your cheeks burning red, but everyone was paying attention to him - thank Satan.
As everyone poured themselves another glass and gathered, you went around and splashed a bit of bourbon in everyone’s cup.
“Some bourbon for your eggnog, Cardinal?” you asked Copia, approaching him with the bottle.
“Eh, none for me,” he said, hiccuping and covering his glass. “It’s strong enough as it is! I’ve had th-three already.”
“It’s nonalcoholic, Cardinal,” you responded, blinking at him. He looked puzzled and walked away.
You made your way over to Primo who was almost snoozing in his chair. “Papa Primo?” you asked, holding the bottle out, gesturing towards his half empty mug. You weren’t sure if he was dressed like Scrooge on purpose or if those were just his pajamas but he mumbled something that sounded like “Bah,” and shook his head swiftly, the tassel at the end of his nightcap swinging around.
Everyone was standing in a semicircle around Terzo, who for once seemed just slightly lost for words. “Well, uh - shit,” he began, eliciting a few chuckles from the crowd. “I do not know what else to say, other than it’s been a fucking great year. We had two fantastic tours, and we’ll be continuing into next year… I, eh - met someone very dear.” He glanced at you briefly before continuing. “We won a motherfucking Grammy…!”
The ghouls whooped and cheered while the Siblings and other Clergy members clapped. You glanced over in the corner. Even Imperator seemed pleased - maybe.
“Sì, sì it has been phenomenal. You should all be very pleased with yourselves. So pleased in fact I think you should all celebrate, in eh, whatever means you choose to do. And if I do not see you all before the New Year, have an unblessed holiday. Now, we toast! Tomorrow morning we will celebrate our Savior’s birth. But for tonight, we sin.” He held up his glass and the others did the same. “To Lucifer!”
“To Lucifer,” you said, chiming in with a chorus of voices. You swallowed your bourbon-eggnog concoction - mostly bourbon by your heavy hand, you found as you winced slightly, the liquor burning down your throat. You didn’t drink much and this was your first holiday gathering at the Ministry. Next month would mark your first full year here, and the first time you laid eyes upon him - your Terzo.
“Eh, see you next year, Papa!” piped up Copia, still hiccuping as he nodded and ducked out of the crowd. You smiled at the Cardinal’s little joke. Terzo stopped in his tracks for just a moment and acknowledged Copia before walking away.
He rolled his eyes as he walked towards you then his face brightened. “Hello,” he said, standing very close to you.
“Hi, Papa,” you said, smiling at him and holding up the last bit of bourbon, swishing it in the bottle. “Saved the last for you.”
“Mmm,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. “How much? I need to keep my stamina for later.”
You took a swig and shuddered - Satanas, you still couldn’t drink straight liquor. “Not much now.” He chuckled at you and took the bottle from your hand, knocking back the rest. You coughed a couple of times and reached for some party punch, completely forgetting the one you reached for also had alcohol and coughed again.
He patted you soothingly on the back and asked, “Are you okay, tesorina?”
You nodded, finally grabbing the nonalcoholic punch and chugging some.
“Will Papa have to take care of his little elf this evening?” he said, trailing the back of his index finger over your cheek.
“No, Papa,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ve barely had anything.”
“Good. I have a surprise for you tonight, amore.”
“Hm. Any hint?” you asked coyly.
“Not a fucking clue. Come to my room in five minutes just as you are.” He picked up a handful of hard candies from the snack table and popped a few in his mouth, staring at you while walking backwards a few paces before turning around and heading down the hall.
You continued to mingle with the other Siblings, trying hard to conceal your blushing cheeks but to no avail.
“Someone’s excited about something,” one said.
“It’s nothing,” you murmured.
“Come on - spill!”
“Well, Terzo and I -”
“Terzo?” said another.
“Oooooh!” the others said in a singsong tone almost in unison.
“He said he has a surprise for me, in his room.”
“So you graduated from office visits to home visits now?” asked the first Sibling, looking impressed.
“Well…I’ve seen his bedroom a few times,” you said, not willing to divulge the full truth just yet. You’d been spending most of your nights in his room and sneaking back into the Siblings’ quarters early in the morning. Even though each Sibling had their own room, you knew your Sisters would hear the door to the suite open.
“I think this is the most serious he’s been with anyone,” said the second Sibling. “I’ve been here a few years and usually he’s done with his fling after two months. But you’ve stuck around.” You shook your head, not willing to believe this hype only to be let down. You just wanted to live in the moment and enjoy what you had with Terzo. “You should go - you don’t want to keep him waiting.”
You smiled and bid your fellow Siblings goodbye as they all made lewd gestures to imitate various sex acts and waved you off, wishing you luck.
You walked down the silent and dark corridors, passing ghouls and Siblings alike shrouded in the shadows to have their midnight dalliances, no doubt egged on by the holiday cheer and the alcohol. You smiled, thinking about not having to hide in a hallway like when you first started dating him. Now you had his entire bedroom to have your sultry romps.
You opened his door and walked into his Papal suite, the familiar lush decor and smell of mahogany filling your senses. You passed by the small and elegantly decorated Christmas tree by the fireplace. You wondered just what his surprise might be when you saw him propped up against the wall, a rose in his mouth and —
What was that?
He was dressed in his Santa jacket and hat, with nothing else on - save one thing. Your eyes trailed along his upper body then snapped to what was in between his legs. On the end of his throbbing hard cock was some mistletoe, tied around his shaft by a red ribbon and a little gold bell below it. He waggled his eyebrows and at the same time isolated his pelvic muscles to make his cock bob up and down, tinkling the bell.
“How long have you just been standing there all hard waiting for me?”
His face fell momentarily and he took the rose out of his mouth. “I thought you would like it.”
“I do!” you said, suppressing laughter as best as you could while stepping towards him. You held onto the lapels of his jacket and leaned in. “I do.” He smiled again, a smug look of satisfaction washing over him.
“Good,” he said, handing you the rose. “Because you’re going to get stuffed and glazed just like Secondo’s honey ham.”
You bit your bottom lip, smiling. “But I don’t think it’ll be quite as delicious as you, amore.”
“It should be. I’ve been eating a lot of pineapple for this.”
“Really? Then I’ll have to taste it for myself,” you said, feeling the heat pool at your core.
He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply, slipping his tongue in. You weren’t sure where to place your hands so you held onto the rose with one hand, the other in his hair. He swiftly brought you closer to him, his quivering cock poking at your thigh under your tulle skirt.
“Mm!” you said, surprised at feeling his hardness brush against you.
“Well,” he said, pulling away to look at you. “It’s not going to kiss itself, tesoro.” He twitched his cock again, making it bob up and down and wagged his hips side to side, making it shake the other direction and sounding the bell.
You eyed him slyly as you bent down, gently falling to your knees before him and placing the rose on the floor. You took his cock in your hand and began stroking his length, eyeing the perfect pink tip at the end. Each time you stroked him, the bell would chime.
“Oh cazzo,” he sighed, leaning his head back, his lips parted.
You flicked the tip of your tongue against the head of his cock and watched his abdominal muscles contract. He was like putty in your hands.
“You like that, amore?” you asked teasingly, his shaft in your palm.
He glared at you from the corner of his eye. “Stai zitto,” he said through moans as you continued to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. But you could swear you saw a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth as he said this.
You closed your eyes as you took his entire length in your mouth, sliding him in and out and clutching onto his hips. The little leaves on the mistletoe tickled your nose each time the bottom of his cock reached your lips.
Clink! Clink! went the bell each time you slid him in and out of your mouth.
He started to whimper and moan quietly, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hand was on the back of your head, gripping your hair tighter the faster you went. At one point he began thrusting into your mouth, probably no longer able to contain himself.
Clink! Clink! ClinkClinkClinkClinkCLINKCLINK
“Mmm!” you mumbled around his cock as the greenery around his member assaulted your face over and over, scratching your nose and cheeks a little bit each time. CLINK.
Your eyes welled with tears as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly. CLINK. At this point you were hardly doing any work, just kneeling there and being used as a vessel. CLINKCLINK
“Satanas you’re going to make me cum like that,” he panted as he continued pushing his hips into your face.
You smiled around him - well as best as you could - and brought him closer by gripping his ass cheeks.
“Ah - cazzo!” he exclaimed, suddenly pulling out of your mouth and panting.
“Terzo?” you asked, trying to look up but you were unable to as his hand remained on your head as he used you to prop himself up and regain composure.
“I can’t cum too soon and ruin the evening, no?” he said, standing up straight and helping you up off the floor. “Not when I haven’t even taken care of you.”
You kissed his laughter lines around his mouth as he spoke, his Papal makeup smudged from your kisses earlier. “You always take such good care of me.”
He turned to face you and held you in an embrace, kissing you passionately again, his hands roaming all over your body. He began to massage your breasts through your costume, building the arousal between your legs even more. Your breathing quickened as you both moaned into each other’s mouths.
“Fuck this fucking blouse,” he said breathlessly, breaking away and tearing at the front of your green cardigan, the buttons flying across his floor - eliciting a ‘Shit!’ from you. “Mmm!” he mumbled, kissing you again, pawing at your chest.
He fumbled around your back at your bra clasp, unhooking it after a couple of tries. You urgently slid the straps off your shoulders and tossed the bra to the floor. He bent down to take your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around it and sucking. He alternated, pinching the other one between his fingers.
“Oh Terzo,” you sighed, running your hands through his hair, fiddling with the silver strands peppering his raven hair. He’d never admit to it, but you saw the box dye left on his bathroom counter.
Instinctively you squeezed your legs together, alleviating some of the need to touch yourself. You felt your heart race and a shiver run down your spine.
“Fuck me, please Papa,” you sighed, breath trembling.
“Mm?” he said, glancing up at you between your breasts with a glint in his eyes. He kissed all over your chest, up your neck and finally, your lips. “Is la mia principessa ready for her Papa to fuck her brains out, hm?”
“Yes Papa, please,” you said, still in a breathy whisper. “Fuck me.”
He nodded his head towards the bathroom and glanced over. “Go get a condom and meet me in bed. I’ll get the lube.”
“Why are there none in our nightstand drawer?”
“‘Our?’”
“Shit. You know what I meant.”
He grinned. “Ti stai dimenticando? We used them all last night and I didn’t have time to take some more out.”
Slightly embarrassed at your gaffe, you made your way into the bathroom and started opening drawers. “Where did you put the box?”
“Bottom drawer!” he called out.
Did he think differently of you now? Would he think you were too presumptuous and want to call the whole thing off? Or potentially, were you just overthinking things as usual? “Found it! Oh fuck, shit!”
“Sorella?” He sounded concerned and rushed over to find you on your hands and knees kneeling near the toilet.
“Almost got it!” You had dropped the roll of condom wrappers behind the toilet and had wedged yourself between it and the vanity. “Help me, Terzo!”
“Ah, I see now,” he said slyly. “Call for me in a panic just so you can entrap me.”
“What? Terzo, no, I really do need help, I drop- ”
“Sì, I can help,” he said, kneeling down behind you, his cock right up against your ass.
“It’s just, argh!”
“Argh!” he imitated you, running his hands all along your body.
“It’s right there I can’t - reach - !”
“Has anyone told you how sexy you look with your ass in the air in candy cane tights?”
You rolled your eyes but you knew he couldn’t see. “Er, no - um, thank you. But I dropped the condoms behind the toilet.”
He craned his neck to see. “Ah. This is quite the pickle we are in. You with your hand behind the toilet and your ass against my cock.”
“No, I believe it’s your cock against my ass.”
“What am I to do, tesorina? What should a Papa do when finding his lover in a compromising position, hm?” He leaned down and trailed kisses along your back, momentarily freezing your arm from the continued search of the condoms.
“Fuck…” you whispered, feeling his mouth move further south and his hands finding their way around your waist.
“What’s that, bella? You think Papa should fuck you? You called me in such a panic earlier that I did not bring the lube…mmm, what should we do?” he said, kissing you just above your ass. “Is la mia principessa ready?”
Your body ached with desire. You needed him inside you. He trailed his finger along your tights-covered behind, poking around where your entrance was. “Darling, I think your tights are just a little wet. Let’s see just how wet you are inside.” He gripped the fabric and you heard it ripping apart.
You let out a surprised gasp as the chill air hit your warm, now exposed nether regions. He entered you with a finger and your body shuddered against him as you whimpered quietly.
“Oh yes,” he said in an amused tone. “You are very ready.” He slid out and up to your clit, playing with it gently as you moaned and rocked your body back and forth to feel the friction against his fingers. “So responsive. Una così brava ragazza.”
“Please, Papa,” you said under your accelerated breath. “Please fuck me.”
“Don’t worry amore,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the sleeve of condoms that you were having trouble getting just moments before. “I will.” He tore off one and ripped it open.
You readjusted yourself on the tile floor so you wouldn’t bang your head against the toilet or the side of the vanity as you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and the clinking of the little bell still attached to his dick.
“Oh FUCK!” you both said in unison as he entered you. He slammed into your dripping cunt with such ease, you felt him bottom out immediately. The tingle of the mistletoe against your clit heightened the sensation.
Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! In and out, in and out. You both moaned each other’s names in pure, unadulterated passion.
“Ah - merda Sorella, you turn me into a teenager again. Fucking on the floor out of sheer desperation for one another.” Now he was so deep inside you the bell muffled against your body. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK.
“So - mmm! - you’re d-desperate for me?” you said teasingly against the cold tile.
“La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca.” With that he fucked into you so hard, so fast, you couldn’t say another word. He pushed your head against the floor roughly, your cheek pressed against the cool marble so hard you could feel the grout indent. He nearly knocked the breath out of you as he hit your g-spot perfectly each time, a relentless grip on the back of your head.
“Ohhh - !” you moaned as he rammed into you over and over. CLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK. He was thrusting faster, riding out his orgasm, his nails digging deeper into your hips.
“Fuck - I’m going to - cum - Sorella - !” He pounded into you, tapering off his speed as he came, his cock twitching a final time before he slumped over your back, breathing heavily.
“Satanas,” he breathed, his chest heaving wildly as he pulled out, your body shuddering under him at the loss. You heard the snap of latex and the condom hitting the trash can liner.
You turned around and sat down, leaning against the toilet. You watched him untie the mistletoe and take it off, tossing it aside. “So how was it, with that?” you asked, nodding towards the discarded plant.
“Honestly? It was a little itchy. It might just be a novelty.” He tossed himself on his back against the floor. He looked at you, his chest still rising and falling from being out of breath. “How was it for you?”
“Honestly? It was a little itchy,” you repeated. You both smiled and laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
“Come here Sorella, I did not intend to leave you wanting. Hop onto Santa’s lap.”
You crawled over to him and straddled his lap, gazing into his eyes.
“What do you want this year for being such a good little girl?” He asked, caressing your arms and looking at your breasts before flicking his eyes up into yours.
“I want…endless kisses…and a mind-blowing orgasm,” you said, leaning down to kiss him.
He returned the smooch. “Mm, I did not know a present for you would also be a present for me. Come closer and sit on Santa’s face…that’s it, Satanas yes please.”
You moved up his body until you were straddling his face, then delicately lowered your body on him, doing your best to move your skirt out of the way.
He sputtered, spitting out the tulle from his mouth and pulling your hips towards his face again. He batted at the layers of fabric, cursing in Italian, before finding your cunt.
Your eyelids flitted closed as your lips parted in a silent “oh.” He took your clit in his mouth and sucked on it between his lips. He alternated between that and flicking your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. You looked down to gaze in his eyes but his face was completely hidden under a green tutu.
You began to buck your hips against his face as he used the flat of his tongue, building up the friction and feeling yourself closing in on orgasm. He switched up and deepened the suction on your clit, flicking his tongue against you simultaneously.
“Oh fuck Terzo - fuck, I’m so close!” You rocked back and forth as you pinched your nipples, heightening the sensation.
His fingernails dug into your hips again as he sped up his ministrations. Grabbing ahold of your waist, he slid you along his mouth faster and faster.
“Oh, Terzo!” you cried out in ecstasy, trembling on your knees above him as you came hard and fast in his mouth. He didn’t let up the motions or the intensity until you pulled away, giggling from the overstimulation. You climbed off of him and sat down next to him, both smiling at one another.
“How are you feeling? Good?” he asked, stroking your thigh.
You nodded your head. “Yes, very. But can I lay down next time? I’ve been on my knees an awful long time.” You both laughed.
“There’s Papa’s little hoe hoe hoe,” he said with a devilish grin. “Of course, amore mio. Anything for you.”
You held onto his hand, playfully caressing all his fingers. “It’s been a very good Christmas so far,” you remarked.
“Mmm. And you haven’t even opened your presents yet.”
“There’s more?”
“What, you thought this was it? No Sorella, go look under the tree.
You eyed him suspiciously as you stood up, legs still a little shaky. You walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.
You hadn’t noticed the presents under the tree earlier, but there were a few. A lot, actually. Somehow even your gifts for him were under there. One of the ghouls or housekeeping staff must have moved them for you.
One caught your attention - a gold envelope poking out from the middle branches of the tree. You reached inside the tree, accidentally sending the package spilling onto the floor. Two plane tickets splayed out on the floor.
You picked them up in wonder - your name was at the top of one, and his on the other. You walked in a daze over to him.
“You did not truly think I would leave you with just my cock for Christmas, did you?” he said, following you out of the bathroom and now leaning against the wall. “I love you, principessa. I call you princess because to me you are. My sweet little thing. I want to give you the world, my world…would Italy be a good start?”
You flung your arms around him, tears in your eyes. “Yes, Terzo. I think that will be an amazing start.”
[Stay tuned for a continuation of this story!]
Italian to English Translations
(la mia) principessa ((my) princess)
tesorina (little treasure/darling)
amore (mio) ((my) love)
cazzo (fuck)
Stai zitto (Shut up)
Ti stai dimenticando? (Are you forgetting?)
Sorella (Sister/nun)
bella (beautiful)
Una così brava ragazza. (Such a good girl.)
merda (shit)
La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca. (My little devil girl thinks she’s so smart, eh? It’s time you shut your mouth.)
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future works!
Ungrumpify Your Papa: Papa Emeritus II x afab!reader
Summary: It's your first holiday season with Secondo and you're determined to make him less of a grump.
Words: 6.9k (nice)
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI!!, reader is AFAB but there are no gendered words/pronouns, smut, fluff, lingerie, light dom!Secondo, teasing, brief mentions of overstimulation, holiday feelings, discussions of religion
AO3
A/N: Happy day 2 of the XXXMas at the Ministry series! Check out day 1 with Primo by @copias-sewer-rat in the links below, and stay tuned for day 3 with Terzo by @ghulehunknown and day 4 with Copia by @bupia (who also put together these incredible graphics)!!
Day 1 (Dec 20th): Naughty Presents (AO3)
Day 2 (Dec 21st): Ungrumpify Your Papa (you are here!)
Day 3 (Dec 22nd): Mistletoe'd (AO3)
Day 4 (Dec 23rd): Treasure Hunt (AO3)
Secondo is very particular about how he curates his living quarters. His taste is distinct and refined, but not to the point of tackiness. It’s obvious that he’d spent a non-trivial amount of time picking out his furniture after he became Papa, and even more time reorganizing his space to ensure you felt welcome after he’d asked you to move in with him. Every book, every pillow, every little trinket or decoration or memory has a dedicated place somewhere, and each piece is treasured and respected like it has belonged there for all of eternity.
So, you weren’t surprised when Secondo grumbled when you pulled out a red and gold plaid throw blanket for the holidays, but he’s gracious enough to allow it to live on the couch (so long as it is neatly folded after every use, of course). And you had to stifle your laugh when he’d come home to find a little mistletoe hanging from the threshold of his bedroom and had jumped nearly ten feet in the air thinking it was a spider.
He came to terms with the mistletoe, though, after realizing that every time he jumped when seeing it from his periphery, you’d come over and kiss him and remind him it was only temporary. He didn’t tell you that he’d let you keep the mistletoe up all year round if it gave him an excuse to kiss you more.
The tree you want, though… that’s another battle.
“Please?” You ask sweetly, snuggling with him under the aforementioned red and gold blanket.
“No, amore,” Secondo says.
You’re tracing gentle patterns into his bare chest and can feel his heartbeat under your fingertips. You watch as the soft, dark hair dusting his skin catches on your finger. “Explain to me your reasoning.”
Secondo chuckles—a low, deep sound that you can feel more than hear. “Must I explain myself past the fact that I simply do not want a tree?”
“But why?” You ask him. You lift yourself up onto an elbow and look down at him. The two of you had built a little nest of sorts in front of the fireplace in his sitting room. It’s the first night that the two of you, as well as the entire Abbey, are absolved from duties in a week-long observance of the solstice and Yule, and you had decided to spend it together, alone, and very naked.
Secondo sighs but there’s still a little smile on his face. He can’t help but adore you and your insistence. It seems to him that you’re determined to uproot his entire life. He would gladly shed his roots and the soil of comfort and routine they grow in if it meant seeing you happy, but where is the fun in that? He enjoys making you ask for what you want. He enjoys seeing you work for it. And, in some (most) instances, he enjoys pushing you until you resort to begging.
“Because,” Secondo begins, drawing you back down to lay your head on his warm chest, “there is no room for one. And we have nothing to put on it.”
You laugh. “This room alone is bigger than my old Sibling quarters. There’s plenty of space.”
“It could catch on fire.”
“Secondo, you don’t put a tree directly in front of the fireplace.”
“Well. Suppose there is an ember—“
“And,” you playfully cut him off. “We can find things to decorate it with. Warm lights, those red, wooden beads for a garland, little glass ornaments… It can be classy. We can make it match your taste.”
Your lover is silent for a moment, considering. “There would be pine needles everywhere.”
You laugh again. His tone of voice tells you that you’re close to cracking him. Oh, you’re well aware of the games he plays with you and take full part in them. The push and pull, the give and take of him letting you believe you’re in control and then showing you that this was his plan all along… even with something as mundane as a holiday tree, your heart speeds up and your face heats just slightly.
You’re still tired from the evening’s activities, after all.
“We can get a fake one,” you offer. “Small, too. Nothing unmanageable. And I’ll string the lights on it because it’s a pain in the ass.”
Secondo traces lines back and forth over your shoulder, tickling your skin. “You speak like the decision is already made, amore.”
“You haven’t given me a good enough reason to back down yet.”
He chuckles again. “Sto solo scherzando. Will it make you happy?”
You prop yourself up again and press a kiss to his lips. “It will,” you say softly. “But I don’t need a tree to make me happy. If you really don’t want one, we won’t have one.”
“You said it yourself,” Secondo says against your mouth, “that it is temporary. I will survive.”
You feel his mouth curl into a small smile against your own when you kiss him again. You’re sure yours must feel the same.
~~~
You and Secondo stroll leisurely through the rows of trees. The display is pretty, and nostalgic—it’s been staged to look like a small grove of real trees, with the stands cleverly hidden by piles of snow at the bases. Some of the trees are fully decorated, and some have only lights, but most are completely bare to emulate a tree farm. Somehow the staff had managed to make the display smell like pine and a hint of cinnamon, and if you close your eyes and listen to the winter breeze and the jingling of bells on the storefront door, it feels like a real tree farm.
“You know,” you say to Secondo as you stop in front of a tree with fake snow on it, “you never told me why you didn’t want a tree.”
Secondo regards the tree for a moment and, seeing how easily the fake snow flakes off of the limbs with just a slight breeze, gently tugs you towards the next one. “It is not necessarily the tree that I am opposed to,” he says. “But the commercialization of what is supposed to be a holiday.”
You’re silent for a moment as you think about his words. He does have a point. There are a fair few seasonal decorations that you find to be unbearably tacky, but the ones you do enjoy carry a warm nostalgia. “I see,” you muse. “For a while after I converted, it was hard to rationalize the holiday because it’s so ingrained in our culture to be a Jesus thing.”
“Esattamente,” Secondo nods. “Even though most of it is taken straight from Pagan traditions.”
You stop in front of a plain tree, not any taller than Secondo, with simple, warm white lights. “That helped me rationalize it,” you tell him. “To know that modern Christmas is an amalgam of different things, and that there’s no right way to celebrate it. It doesn’t make us bad Satanists because we have a tree, or bake cookies, or wrap gifts. There doesn’t have to be any religious undertone.”
“You are right,” Secondo says after a brief silence. “What is that term… when people use a word incorrectly enough times that the meaning changes.”
“Colloquialism?” you offer.
“SÌ. Christmas has become a colloquialism. Yule, Solstice, Saturnalia, Christmas, whatever you wish to call it.”
“Is that why you never celebrated?”
Secondo looks at you, and he nearly loses his breath. The sun is going down so the sky is a deep blue, leaving your face to be illuminated only by the warm white lights of the tree in front of you. You look so cozy in your hat and scarf and coat. And you’re trying to understand him, understand why he is not a ‘holiday’ person. How he adores you.
“To a degree,” he says, looking away because he’s dangerously close to swooping you into his arms and kissing you silly. “The holiday has lost all its meaning beyond materialism. That is the way it seems. Why should I need a holiday to tell me when to gift things to the people who matter?”
“You don’t, I suppose,” you shrug. “But it’s not completely about that. It’s the thought, the warmth, the togetherness. This time of year is when people want to feel cozy and comfortable and happy. To surround themselves with the people and things they love. It’s cold, and dark, and the holiday allows us to indulge in the things we might feel guilty about at any other time of year.”
Secondo listens to your voice, and he understands. “I feel a bit like Scrooge,” he says softly. And he does—a bitter old man, learning the true meaning of Christmas… or something.
“Which ghost am I?” You ask, laughing.
“You are Tiny Tim,” he replies without having to think. “Not a ghost, but I think the wisest character in the whole story.”
“Satan bless us,” you say in your best impression of a small child. “Every one.”
In the end, Secondo chooses the tree you’d been standing in front of. He tells you that it was because he likes that it’s small and simple (which is true), but he’d seen how your eyes reflected the small bulbs and decided he couldn’t let that evening be the last time he sees that.
You also purchase simple glass bulbs, a modest tree skirt, and a silver garland to match Secondo’s green and silver color scheme in his chambers. When you arrive back at the Abbey excited to decorate, however, you remember that you’d forgotten to choose a topper. While he has his back turned to pour the two of you some hot chocolate, you sneak to the closet which houses his papal robes, and when he turns around, he finds his mitre situated crookedly atop the tree and your smug face pretending you don’t know how it got there.
“It is lopsided,” Secondo hums, handing you your mug.
“It has character,” you counter. You hide your smile behind the steaming hot chocolate.
Secondo smiles, too.
~~~
After the tree debacle, you wonder how far into the holiday spirit you can drag Secondo. You aren’t determined to make him the embodiment of Santa Claus, but you hope to ease his grumpiness. And honestly, it isn’t just the holiday that you want him to enjoy, it’s the whole season. Winter is cold and dark and oftentimes miserable, yes, but it doesn’t have to be. Not when you have someone to come home to after years of spending it alone.
So you suggest cookies. Because I love sugar cookies, you explain when Secondo asks. And Copia has a sweet tooth. And we need something to bring to dinner with your family.
Not at all because watching Secondo in the kitchen gets you going like nothing else.
You sit at the small table in his kitchen, watching him move. He’d shooed you out of the way after scolding you for suggesting you use a premade mixture of Betty Crocker sugar cookies, insisting that if you must make cookies, you will at least do it right. But how can you stay away from him when he looks like that?
He’s wearing his apron (which is, in and of itself, an incredible turn-on). The sleeves of his button-up shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his muscular forearms. And his hands, oh, his hands, are bare and flexing, kneading the dough as he mixes flour in pinch by pinch. The veins in his arms are highlighted in the overhead kitchen lights. His shoulders stretch and move, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight against his back again and again.
Sweet Satan, give me strength, you think. And Satan, ever the purveyor of sin and temptation, strips all the strength from your mind and whispers in your ear to go to him.
So you do. You quietly slip out of your chair and approach Secondo, taking in his perfect form. His broad shoulders, the slight pooch to his sides, his ass which is hugged so perfectly in his trousers, his hands kneading the dough ball like they knead the flesh of your thighs, your chest, your belly, your rear. Your hands slip around his middle and you press yourself against his back. You feel him pause.
“Amore,” Secondo says softly and you’re not exactly convinced that he’s chiding you. “You are a terrible distraction. Come faccio a cuocere questi biscotti con te che mi tenta?”
You trace your hands up his stomach to his chest, relishing in his warmth. There’s probably flour on your hands and forearms and all over his apron, but you don’t care. “Can you blame me? You know very well what watching you in the kitchen does.”
“SÌ, I do, my dove,” Secondo hums. His hands are still now. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of your palms brushing up and down his body. Yes, he knows quite well what he’s doing to you. He’d be a liar if he said his insistence to bake the cookies from scratch was entirely innocent. But he supposes you know that. “Tell me, amore. If I were to turn around and lift you up onto this counter and spread your legs, what would I find, hm?”
Instead of answering him, you trail your hands back down from his chest, over his tummy, and down to the crux between his legs and pelvis, resting your palms there and squeezing lightly. You can already feel the stretching fabric of his trousers and know that if he turned around to make good on his promise, you would find him hard and aching. He heaves a trembling breath at your movements. It’s likely that he will punish you for this later, but is it really a punishment if it’s what you desire most?
It’s not often that Secondo allows you to take control like this. Even if it’s just a small movement, a little caress of his arousal, he’s quick to pull your hands away and make sure you find your pleasure first. But slowly, his hands begin to work into the dough once more, and he makes no further comment. Your own hands find the button of his trousers and tug it open.
“Amore,” Secondo hums in warning when your fingers brush along the length of him over the fabric of his pants.
In a stroke of confidence (and maybe a touch of curiosity as to what might happen if you poke the sleeping bear), you reach down his front to grasp him over his briefs. It’s only for a moment before you’re withdrawing your hand and fumbling his button closed again. You press a kiss between his shoulder blades and step away. “Sorry, love. Cookies take precedence.”
Then, you’re pressed against the kitchen table, your wrists pinned beside your head as Secondo looms over you and presses his hips to your own. His breath is hot and his voice is low in your ear as he speaks. “You know very well that I would ravish you right now,” he growls, rutting his hips forward to spread your thighs even further. You can feel just how honest he’s being and you sigh with the contact. “If it were not for this dinner… this cena maledetta…”
There’s flour all over your clothes from his apron pressing against your front. The tip of his nose traces a path up from the sensitive skin below your ear, across your cheekbone, to rest against yours. His lips brush your own as he speaks. “Do not think I do not know what you are doing.”
“I know you know,” you say, your voice sultry. You arch your back up off the tabletop and press your chest into his. “That’s why I do it.”
“Sei una tentazione,” Secondo whispers. “Perché devi essere così allettante quando non posso averti?”
Your jaw slacks open when he presses his hips even harder against yours. He takes the opportunity to lean in and nip at your lower lip, tracing his tongue along it and tugging. “One day,” you gasp when he pulls away, “I will understand when you say such filthy things to me in Italian.”
“You tell me that not knowing is a thrill.”
“Oh, it is. But sometimes I wish I could understand what depraved things you’ll do.”
“Let me put it plainly, then,” Secondo says. He takes the shell of your ear between his teeth and squeezes your wrists just a bit tighter. Your thighs lift as he presses himself against you completely. “We are going to make these cookies. We are going to Terzo’s dinner party. And we are going to stay for however long is acceptable before I take you back here and punish you for teasing me.”
“Yes, Papa.”
~~~
Oh, you hate him.
Not for last night when he’d punished you, no. You very much do not hate him for that. You’d gone to bed with trembling legs after he had to help you to the shower. He compared you to a newborn deer but held you steady as you wobbled, and then gave you one last orgasm in the warm water before the two of you retired to bed.
Rather, you hate him because he’d been waiting for a reason to punish you last night. He’d been searching for an excuse to make you fall off the edge of the world, more than a few times over, because he’d planned to take you and your wobbly legs surprise ice skating the next morning and thought it would be funny to watch you scramble.
“I hate you,” you grumble as you cling to his hand with a vice-like grip. “I hate you and your stupid memory.”
Secondo laughs quietly and supports your weight. You almost lose balance when he leans down to speak lowly in your ear, but he keeps you upright. “I did not hear you saying that last night when I remembered where to touch to make you–”
“Alright, alright,” you interrupt, your face heating. “But last night I didn’t think I had to tell you to take it easy so I could stand upright today.”
“That is the fun of it, amore. Seeing you wobble, knowing I did this.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “How is your ass? Sore?”
“From you spanking it or from falling on it four times?” You ask.
“Either way,” Secondo stands up straight again, “I suppose the answer is the same.”
You huff. “I used to be able to do spins as a kid,” you tell him. “And now I can barely stand on skates because of you and your fingers and your tongue and your little Secondino.”
“He is not very little though, is he?” Secondo asks, and you could smack him if he wasn’t completely right. You’re wobbly because he’s not little in the slightest.
You’re grateful, though. You’d mentioned how you used to go ice skating as a child, and how you haven’t in a very long time. In previous relationships, that was that. You would mention something you miss, or an activity you used to love, and that would be the end of it. But with Secondo, dear, attentive, lovely, grumpy Secondo, it’s different. You feel heard for the first time in your life. And that might be terribly cheesy, but it’s true. He does more for you than the absolute bare minimum you’d grown to expect from partners and you feel positively spoiled. If you can give him even half of the happiness he gives you, you’re happy. You would give him the world and the sun and the moon if you could.
Secondo notices your silence and squeezes your hand, warm and cozy in the gloves Terzo had gifted you at his dinner last night. “Where did you go, dove?”
“Sorry,” you shake yourself from your reverie and blink away the sudden tears of gratitude and affection. “I just love you. Thank you for taking me skating.”
“You’re welcome. Anch’io ti amo.”
Eventually you find your sea legs and show him the (very basic) spins you know how to do. You manage not to fall on your ass a fifth time. And then you begin to seethe because, of course, Secondo is perfectly balanced and graceful and can skate like he was born on the ice. Your poised Papa is always so composed and you feel like, as he’d said, a newborn deer perpetually falling.
You hate him, but that doesn’t stop the heat from building in your lower belly. Again.
~~~
The next day is the Ministry’s observed holiday. Most of the Abbey’s residents choose to spend it honoring the Olde One in sin with loved ones—eating, drinking, laughing, fucking. You and Secondo are no different, having celebrated the holiday with family and friends at Terzo’s dinner two days prior.
That was the intention of hosting a dinner two days before the holiday. So that one might be able to honor Satan and the unholy observance without having to worry about family coming.
You are absolutely not complaining. You spend the morning sleeping in, held in Secondo’s strong, warm embrace. When you wake, there’s no rush to get out of bed. He apologizes for your sore (and slightly fall-bruised) ass by rubbing and kneading it with gentle hands, pressing kisses down your spine with no sense of urgency or implication of more. You want there to be more, but you have something planned for later.
You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to wait for later to arrive.
In the weeks leading up to the holiday, he’d told you not to worry about finding a gift for him. He said that you are enough, that spending time with you and just seeing you is enough of a gift. That you’d somehow managed to soothe the harshness in his soul. In his Secondo way of saying those things, which is less sappy. But you know that the sap was there, so you found a gift for him anyway.
The gift, of course, is something practical and utilitarian. Fit for Secondo’s taste but not something he already has. Something you know for a fact he’ll enjoy.
That’s the list of things you’d written in your head when debating whether or not to buy the expensive, green satin lingerie with silver buckles. And of course, you needed a robe to hide it with so he can unwrap his gift.
Although neither of you want to get up from the cozy cocoon of bedsheets you’re tangled in, your stomach begins to growl for breakfast.
“Hungry?” Secondo asks from where his face is nestled against your neck.
“Very,” you say, and make no move to get up. Neither does he.
Your stomach growls again.
“Hush,” Secondo says softly. “I am comfortable.”
After the third growl, you laugh, and Secondo pushes himself off of you to sit upright. “Coffee?”
“Please,” you nod.
When Secondo stands to walk into the kitchen, shirtless and practically glowing in the morning sun coming through the windows, you decide that later can come whenever you like. He can spend all day and night unwrapping his gift over and over and over if he wishes to. You can’t bear to wait.
You slip away with the box containing your robe and underthings and lock yourself in the bathroom. It takes you a few tries to align the straps correctly so you can slip your head and arms through where they’re supposed to go, but the lower portion is more straightforward. The set is simple once it’s situated correctly. There’s a strip of fabric leading up the middle of your chest and around your neck, clasped at the front with a silver buckle, not entirely unlike a collar. The thin straps accentuate your chest and shoulders while still leaving most of your skin exposed for Secondo to leave marks on. The bottoms are strappy as well, with an attached garter belt secured with two silver buckles matching the one on your neck. Observing yourself in the mirror, you feel powerful. You know exactly what this will do to Secondo, and do for him. You feel powerful in the knowledge that you are about to allow him to overpower you.
You only hope the lingerie doesn’t get ripped in the process.
You slip the robe over your shoulders and close it, offering only a peek of the fabric around your neck, and fix your bedhead before exiting the bathroom. You stride into the kitchen like absolutely nothing has changed and find Secondo, gathering ingredients for breakfast and still shirtless. If you hadn’t changed into the set you’re wearing already then you would turn tail and do it now.
But, you steel yourself and enter the kitchen, making a beeline for your favorite mug which he’d filled with coffee. “Thank you, love,” you say softly. You lean against the counter and take a sip. It’s delicious but you couldn’t care less about the coffee right now.
“Amore,” Secondo says lowly once he catches a glimpse of your new robe and the fabric peeking out underneath. “What is this?”
He raises his finger to trace along the strip of fabric running down your chest until it disappears under the robe. “You said not to get anything for you,” you tell him, trying to act like the simple touch isn’t burning your skin. “But, did you really expect me not to?”
“Sathanas, you are sent to me by the Devil himself,” Secondo groans. He takes your mug of coffee from you and places it on the counter. “How must I wait until we have eaten when you…”
You gently take his other hand and intertwine your fingers. It’s not often that Secondo has no words. Your heart pounds in your chest and you’re sure he can feel it beneath his fingertips. “Don’t wait, then,” you say.
Slowly, Secondo traces his hand down your chest, over your sternum and towards your navel where your robe is tied closed. He pulls on the end and the robe falls open, revealing the set of lingerie adorning your skin. You feel his hot, shaky breath fan across your face as he takes in the sight of you. As if in reverence, he gently pushes the robe off your shoulders. It falls at your heels and you’re left bare in front of him, skin hot yet somehow covered in goosebumps. “Sathanas,” he curses again, thanking his maker for you.
Secondo places his hands on your waist and draws you towards him. Your own hands rise to his chest and you find that his heart is beating just as quickly as yours. Your lips meet somewhere in the middle, warm and desperate and passionate. He kisses you like it’s the last time, but also like you’re made of glass. Like he wants to ravage you and worship you at the same time but can’t decide. His tongue licks into your mouth, tracing your bottom lip. He tastes like coffee and Secondo.
You nearly stumble when he begins to push you but you quickly understand his mission. His hands guide you out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom, walking you backwards while his lips never leave your own. “Sathanas,” he groans a third time. He can’t think of anything but you, the feel of you, the taste of you, the sight of you. The only word from his mouth is a prayer at your altar.
Secondo guides you until the backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he lifts you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator taunting his prey. Your thighs part on instinct to welcome his body between them. The cool air of the room reaches your aching arousal and you realize that you’re already embarrassingly wet.
His hands slide up and down your sides, to your hips, the tops of your thighs. He traces his fingers over the fabric of the garter belt, snapping the strap against your skin and smirking at the sound. “You are sin,” he growls as he leans down to latch his lips to your neck. “I need you.”
“Take me,” you moan, and your voice comes out more desperate than you intend for it to, but you’re past the point of caring. You want him to know that you need him, too. “Please, Papa. I’m yours.”
Secondo’s mouth trails down your chest, leaving wet kisses and little marks as you’d predicted (and hoped). He finds the hard peak of your nipple through the thin satin and lathes his tongue over it, eliciting another moan from your lips. “Say it again for me, amore. Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Papa,” you breathe as his teeth gently bite down on your covered nipple. “I belong to you. Only you.”
“Guisto. You are mine and mine alone.”
His mouth moves to your other nipple and, as if to accentuate his statement, he gives it a harder nip. You gasp at the sensation and arch your back into his mouth. “Papa…”
“Hm?” Secondo hums, and the vibrations make you moan once more. “What is it, tesoro?”
You know very well that he knows what you want, but you also know that he wants to hear you say it. “Please, your mouth,” you gasp. Your hands clutch at his shoulders and give an almost imperceptible push downwards. “I want your mouth, Papa, please.”
Secondo licks a path down your midsection. “Già così disperato per me,” he mumbles against the skin just above the garter belt. His lips blaze a path along the strip of fabric, and for the first time you wish it was gone. You’ve had your fill, he’s seen it all, and seen you in it. It can go away now. But, he takes mercy on you, and kisses his way to your pubic mound, also covered by the cursed fabric.
“Oh, amore, you are already dripping for me. I wonder if I can make you cum without taking these off, sì? They are already ruined, what is a little more?”
Secondo places a light kiss over your wetness through the fabric and your hips twitch upwards. Immediately his hands wrap around your thighs and grasp your hips, stilling you. “None of that,” he chides you, and repeats the kiss. You bite your lip to stifle your noises. That earns you a light slap on the outside of your thigh, and you gasp. “None of that either. I want to hear you.”
He licks a broad stripe up the entire length of your slit, humming as he does. Your hips twitch again but they can’t move in his firm grip. Your hands grip the bedsheets as you gasp. “Papa!”
You’re already so worked up that you feel your orgasm beginning to build in your lower belly. His tongue traces slow circles around your clit, sometimes dipping to press at your entrance but never straying for long. The fabric is practically plastered to the form of your core, but it’s not quite enough. It’s thin but it dampens the sensations of his mouth against your flesh just enough for your orgasm to elude you.
“P-Papa, please,” you pant. Your hand finds the back of his head to press him harder to you, but it’s still not enough. “Please, I need more. I’m so close, please…”
“Look at me, dove,” Secondo commands, and you obey. His cheeks are flushed and you can just barely see the shine of your wetness on the tip of his nose. “Look at me as I help you cum.”
He snakes one hand back towards your entrance and lightly presses there, then slowly works his middle finger under the fabric to dip into you. It’s frustratingly shallow, just to the first knuckle, but he knows you’re most sensitive there. His tongue flicks faster on your clit, still covered by the satin yet completely drenched, and you cum. “Papa!”
Your entrance clenches rhythmically around the tip of his finger. He growls and shoves the crotch of your panties to the side, latching his lips around your clit and sucking just as he pushes his finger deep into you. He finds the spot only he knows exists and you see stars as your first orgasm gives way to another, more powerful climax. You tumble down the side of a mountain of pleasure on his tongue and scream.
Secondo works you through the intense pleasure until the aftershocks roll pleasantly up and down your limbs, and your hips twitch up from oversensitivity. He pulls away and licks his lips. “Perfezione,” he says softly, crawling back up your body until he can kiss you properly. “Così perfetto per me. Così forte quando mi vieni sulla lingua.”
You can taste yourself on his tongue. His hands softly stroke up and down your thighs, easing the trembling there. You sling your arms around his shoulders and pull him down so that his chest rests against yours. “Do you like your gift?” you ask when you’ve finally caught your breath again.
“Sempre,” Secondo hums. “Every time I touch you is a gift, amore.”
You lean up to kiss him again, because you don’t want to sully the heat and passion between you by crying at his sudden tenderness. “Let me make you feel good, too,” you whisper against his mouth.
When your hands begin to wander downwards, Secondo rises onto his knees and grasps your wrists firmly. The position mirrors the one you’d found yourself in two days prior, after the cookie incident, and your core clenches around nothing. “All I want is to be inside you,” Secondo growls. The tenderness is replaced by a fiery passion behind his eyes, and his grip on your wrists leaves no room for debate on who is in charge now. You’ve ensnared him with your gift, now he gets to unwrap it.
“Please,” you whimper. “Please, Papa.”
Secondo hastily pulls his sleep pants off and his cock bounces up against his lower stomach. You wish so desperately that you could touch him, trace the trail of dark hair from his chest all the way down to the base of him, but he still has your hands beside your head. “Stay just like this for me, sì?” he asks, but you know it’s not a question and you nod. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your ruined underwear and tugs. “Up.”
You lift your hips and he slides the soaked fabric down your legs and tosses it aside. Your hands, now unrestrained, itch to touch him. “Can I touch you?” you ask, your voice breathy and desperate. You’re hoping he allows it, because if he really didn’t want you to move, there are cuffs in his bedside table that he could have easily used to hold your arms above your head.
“Not yet, amore. You are doing so well for me.”
You whine, but stay still. Secondo parts your thighs again and slots himself between them. The tip of his cock brushes against your swollen clit and you gasp, rutting your hips upward to seek more. But he doesn’t enter you, not yet. You know what he’s waiting for.
“Please, Papa,” you say, canting your hips upward once more to accentuate your words. “I want to feel you, please.”
“Bene,” Secondo hums. “Così buono per me.”
Secondo positions the head of his cock at your entrance, and pushes in slowly. Your back bows off the mattress and you sigh. “Oh, thank you, thank you…”
Inch by thick, delicious inch, Secondo enters you until your hips press together and you can feel the tip of him nudging at your cervix. When he’s fully inside you, he pauses, giving you time to breathe and adjust to his size. You hold his gaze as he strokes your thighs, soothing you, urging you to relax around him. “You may touch me,” he says.
You bring your hands to the skin below his navel to trace along the strip of hair. Usually you like to kiss your way down, leaving little love bites along his happy trail, but both of you had been so desperate for this closeness that you couldn’t prolong the process. His muscles jump and twitch under your light touches. Slowly, you slide your palms up to rest on the sides of his neck and draw him down to kiss you. The shift in angle makes his cock move inside you and he brushes against the spot his middle finger had found just minutes ago, making you clench around him. He groans into your mouth at the sensation.
“Are we going ice skating again tomorrow?” You ask.
Secondo huffs a laugh. “No, amore. I plan to make your legs wobble without having to worry about a sore ass.”
You laugh with him and kiss him once more, then roll your hips against his. “Good.”
He grips you by the hips and begins to thrust shallowly in and out of you. The drag of his cock is divine inside you, and yes, your legs will very much be wobbling tomorrow because you intend to spend all day like this and it is barely breakfast. Your head falls down against the mattress and exposes your neck, yet devoid of marks, to Secondo. And who is he to pass up an opportunity like that?
His lips descend on your pulse point just as he increases his pace. This angle again makes his cock brush against the tender spot on your inner walls and it rips a moan from your throat.
“Sì, amore, let me hear you. Let me hear how I make you feel.”
“Ah, it’s so—so good, Papa, you feel so good inside me—”
Secondo increases his speed again. His teeth gently dig into the skin of your neck and you clench around him, making him growl into your ear. “My little devil,” he rasps. “Who do you belong to? Tell me again.”
“You, Papa! I’m yours!”
“Yes—ah, yes, you are mine. Only mine. Only I can take you like this, capisci? O-only I can make you feel this pleasure.”
Somewhere in the back of your mind you register that Secondo is being particularly vocal this time. His eyes never stray from yours, but his hands are everywhere—your hips, your thighs, your stomach, your chest. His fingers briefly dip into your mouth and you willingly accept them, lathing your tongue over them and tasting the remnants of your juices on his skin. His hips snap against your own, over and over and over, increasing in pace until you bounce back and forth on his cock in time with his thrusts.
With the fingers now covered in your saliva, Secondo brings his fingers directly to your oversensitive clit. Your hands clench onto any part of him you can reach, your fingernails scratching his skin and leaving red trails raised in their wake. You aren’t sure if you’re screaming or completely silent with the overwhelming pleasure. But your eyes feel magnetized to his own, like if you were to look away, the spell would break and the pleasure that’s building between you would dissipate entirely.
“P-Papa,” You gasp, breathless. “I–I’m—”
“Sì, amore mio. Cum around my cock. Cum for me.”
His desperate, almost animalistic command, paired with his fingers abusing your clit and his cock splitting you open so perfectly, send you hurtling over the edge of your climax and your vision goes white. Your entire being, your entire consciousness is centered between your legs and wherever he touches. The rest of you falls away into bliss as Secondo thrusts into you through your orgasm.
You’re still riding the tidal waves of pleasure when Secondo finds his own release, spilling inside you and slowing his thrusts until eventually he stills against you. As your awareness fades back in and your orgasm ebbs away, you realize that your legs are trembling, but so are his. Your chests heave together as you catch your breath. You relish in the warm weight of him on top of you and inside of you, tracing your fingertips up and down his spine.
When he manages to steady himself enough to hold his weight on his arms, Secondo pushes himself up just enough so he can plant soft, tender kisses against your lips. “Amore mio,” he mumbles reverently, “Sei la luce della mia vita.”
“I love you,” you respond just as softly. Though you don’t (yet) understand what he said, you can feel the weight of his words in your heart. He isn’t the type to deliver flowery speeches or long-winded declarations of love, but you know he feels it for you, as you do for him. The two of you don’t need words. It shines through the string lights on the tree in the living room. It wafts through the air on the scent of freshly baked sugar cookies. It follows you in the sound of skates sliding in tandem atop the frozen lake, and in the pleasured cries echoing in the walls of the bedroom.
Your stomach growls, and you feel the rumble of Secondo’s laugh deep in your chest.
Come faccio a cuocere questi biscotti con te che mi tenta? - How am I supposed to bake these cookies with you tempting me?
cena maledetta - cursed dinner
Sei una tentazione...Perché devi essere così allettante quando non posso averti? - You are a temptation...why must you be so tempting when I cannot have you?
Anch’io ti amo - I love you too
Giusto - Right
Tesoro - treasure, sweetheart
Già così disperato per me - Always so desperate for me
Perfezione - Perfection
Così perfetto per me. Così forte quando mi vieni sulla lingua - So perfect for me. So loud when you cum on my tongue
Sempre - always
Così buono per me - So good for me
Capisci - Understood
Sei la luce della mia vita - You are the light of my life
Summary: During the holidays Primo isn't as busy taking care of his dear flowers, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to ensure that you are taken care of.
Words: 6K
Warnings: smut, minors DNI, use of sex toys (sucker, dildo, bullet vibrator, bunny vibrator, cuffs and nipple pincers), edging, orgasm denial, slight roleplay (just a bit), cunnilingus, afab! reader, p in v action, grinding, over stimulation, uncomfortable possition, aftercare, bad translated Italian.
Available on Ao3
Secondo (Ao3) [coming soon]
Terzo (Ao3) [coming soon]
Copia (Ao3) [coming soon]
Author's note: First day of the XXXMas at the Ministry series, a wonderful collab involving @ghulehunknown, @molly-ghuleh, @bupia and myself. Please stay tunned for their stories comming the following days, I will update this here story as they post so you can go read. Extra thanks to @bupia for her amazing job on the graphics that come along these fics, absolutely stunning.
It is peaceful. December in the Abbey has always been. The view from your room is pure bliss. Untouched white snow covering the gardens, the small lights from the streetlamps casting a warm tone to it, almost like clouds when the sun sets. At a distance you observe the greenhouse, the place where your amore spends most of his time, that is when he isn’t covering you with kisses and adoring your body. It feels melancholic now. There isn’t much to do now for him now and you know he is eager to return to his duties, his green thumb burning with desire to plant and to take care of his beloved flowers once again.
He has always had a gentle touch, putting all of himself into the things that he loves, his brothers, his flowers, you… Now that the holiday season has begun, Primo has come up with a plan to take care of il suo fiore preferito.
Sitting next to the window, very close to your bedroom chimney, you hear a shuffle. You had expected for Primo not to return for at least a couple more hours, having absented himself saying that he had an urgent meeting with his brothers about the New Year’s party. Maybe it is your imagination playing games with you, maybe you are hearing the crackling of the fire and falling asleep. You certainly feel tired, feeling too comfy in the pillow and blanket fort you have made for yourself. The warm silence fills the room once again and you close your eyes briefly. You begin drifting off to sleep without even noticing it.
The image of Primo pops in front of you almost instantly in your mind, and you feel the outside warmth spreading inside of you, making you blush as he stares at you lovingly. He is so handsome, you think. His shinny long white hair falling free over his face and shoulders, his painted face offering the warmest of smiles. Primo gets closer to you, enveloping your form into his, caressing your back with his long and skilled hands, slowly descending to your butt. He kisses your face, every inch of it and starts to travel to your neck, kissing your pulse as a moan escapes your lips while you feel his pressure on top of you. His kisses become more fervent, more desperate and you cannot avoid gripping the back of his shirt. You can feel him so clearly, his heat, his fragrance, — a mixture of his favourite tea and the herbal flowery scent that follows him everywhere he goes — his mouth leaving hickeys all over and then his sharp canines are biting into you with force, making you gasp and wake.
You jolt awake and a pair of hands grab your sides gently.
“Mio sole, are you okay?” Primo stands right in front of you, just as he had been in your dream. His hair falling in the exact same places, the same warm and content smile lighting up the dimness of the room. You wonder if you this is still a dream, but Primo grips your sides with more force as a response of your silence and you know this is the real deal.
“I am fine, caro. I just had a bit of a weird dream…” You confess with tiredness in your voice.
“Davvero? Would you like to tell me about it?” Primo asks, and a slight blush creeps to your cheeks. “Cuore mio, I heard your moans… I thought you were having fun without me, and that cannot be.” He smirks showing his teeth and the slight blush turns into a full-on red face.
“Well… It wasn’t without you…” You look at him, biting your lower lip.
“Ah.. now I am intrigued. Perhaps you might want to tell me while you open your presents?” You blink and see a lustful glint in Primo’s green eye.
“What’s this about? Dear, it is not even Christmas yet.” The question falls on deaf ears as Primo extends his hand for you to take.
You rise from your seat, leaving the comfort of your nest to follow your lover. His hand takes yours gently, rubbing his thumb over the top in a calming motion. There is nothing to fear, you know for sure, you trust Primo with your body and soul.
“Close your eyes, mio sole.” He says and you obediently oblige. “That’s it, amoruccio. Let me lead you and in the meantime, tell me about this dream of yours sì?” A couple of hands grab your sides to guide you, hands you would let do anything and everything to you…
“Well, it was nothing out of the ordinary…” Primo hums “you were kissing me, touching me all over…” He taps your hip, signaling you to continue “and then you bit me with force, probably making me bleed, but the pain felt… nice? Like it added to the general pleasure, you know?” You hear a small laughter coming from him, he is not mocking you, but there is something funny going on, probably related to your surprise, so you just hold your question for a bit longer.
With a few more steps you feel your surroundings changing. You are still in your shared apartment but you are changing rooms. Primo’s hands go up and down your sides reassuringly, and you giggle ticklishly.
“Mio sole, mi dispiace, please could you wait here for a moment?”
“Of course, caro.” You say, eyes still closed.
Primo moves away from you and you already miss him. You hear shuffling, rustling and clicking, which suddenly turns you into a ball of pure nervousness. ‘What is he up to?’ you think. The image you see with your close eyelids suddenly turns orange, and then you see orbs of light dancing around. You know where you are now, the clear image of your living room appears in your mind, the long green velvety sofa, the dark brick chimney, the tall bookshelves full of books and the enormous Christmas tree situated in the middle of the room.
From a distance Primo calls your name, telling you to open your eyes and once again you oblige. The sight you encounter is nothing short of mouth opening. Everything is exactly as you had pictured it but for all of the new details in front of the tree. Primo is there, dressed in a red Santa Claus outfit, without the beard that is as his makeup graces his beautiful aging features. But everything else is on point: the hat, the suit, the leather boots and gloves, he looks fantastic! That’s not the only thing that catches your attention though. He is seated on a chair you have never seen before, it almost looks like a throne, and around it there are several presents wrapped in beautiful paper, all of them decorated with neatly handmade bows.
Your mouth opens at the sight. You are no stranger to get surprises from Primo, but this is something else.
“What-What is this?” Words fail you, you are too in shock to speak properly and Primo gives you a low chuckle.
“I was in a festive mood and thought of a way to thank you for being you, so incredibly amazing and perfect you.” The blush returns to you once more. “Come close, Primo Claus has some presents for you.” You almost cannot process what is going on, but instinctively put a foot in front of the other and get before him. “Come on, sit on my lap and tell Primo Claus how naughty you have been this year.” He says with a low tone and you blink several times, raising your brow incredulously and pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. This is so out of character for him, which does not mean that it is not turning you on like hell. In fact, you can feel the wetness of your core staring to be bothering, your previous dream started the fire and now you feel like you are going up in flames.
The glint in Primo’s gaze is even stronger now, undressing you as if you were a present yourself, so neatly wrapped and ready to be teared up bit by bit. Agonizingly slow you sit down, holding Primo’s gaze as you do so, not intending to be the only one that is going to suffer tonight. You finally sit on his lap and wiggle a bit, trying to find a comfortable position, or that’s the lie you tell Primo when he asks you to stop teasing and that’s when you feel him already half hard under you. Once settled, Primo speaks:
“Okay, mio sole. Tell me, have you been good or naughty this year?” Trying to hold your laughter, you rise a hand and put it covering your mouth as if you were thinking very hard about it.
“Oh, Primo Claus, I think I have been very naughty this year…” You confess, your tone slow and sensual, trying to tease him as much as he is teasing you.
“Davvero? Tell me. What naughty things have you done this year?” Primo asks raising a hand and grabbing your chin so you don’t advert our gaze as you speak.
“Well, you see, my partner is a very horny old man and so we have done it everywhere, and I mean everywhere: the kitchen, the bedroom, this same living room in different areas, the bathroom, the closet, the gardens, the classrooms, the chapels, the confessional booths, his office, in some corridors as well…” As you continue your list, you feel Primo’s breath deepen, his heart beating faster and his cock getting harder.
“I get it, but lucky for you, Primo Claus does not reward people who have been nice, I reward naughty people… I get them as many presents as their horny hearts might desire. But you, amore, you are a special case because I want to try all these presents with you, right now.” There it is, that is what all of this was about, but you cannot complain. In fact, you are eager to follow along. The only proof that you need to know that you are going to enjoy this is Primo’s almost erect cock pressing on your butt.
“Really? Presents? For me?” You question with and innocent tone and doe eyes.
“Of course, I couldn’t leave my amore without presents…” Primo says as he leans down and grabs a medium size package, handing it to you with a toothy grin. “Open it!”
With shaky hands you tear the paper, the butterflies in your stomach becoming more intense when the first present is revealed: a couple of red puffy handcuffs.
“Primo? What-?” The question dies on you as he suddenly puts his lips on top of yours, kissing you fervently, his tongue entering your mouth, taking advantage of your surprised expression. His hands go directly to your back, holding you in place and yours travel to the back of his neck, leaving the box over your lap, toying with his platinum locks as he greedily explores your mouth.
“Amore, these presents are not my gift to you. Today, my gift to you is immeasurable pleasure. You are going to cum over and over on top of me, and I am not going to stop until I know that you are completely and utterly satisfied.” Primo says as he parts from you, his voice a whisper against your lips, and you gulp hard. “Do you want that, mio sole?”
“I do, please, Primo… I want it all.” You breath and he hums.
“Bene” With haste, Primo takes the box from your lap and opens it, revealing a pair of cute puffy handcuffs. They are red, which you feel he choose because of the holidays, to pair with his outfit. Discarding the box to the side he holds your sides and motions for you to stand up. “This is the only time you are going to stand up until we finish with this amore…” The look on his eyes is of pure lust, if he was undressing you before, now he is fucking you with his gaze. “Be good, undress for me.” Primo says, spreading his legs so you can see the bulge on his pants.”
Without a word, every piece of clothing gets discarded to the floor. Primo groans as he looks at you, grabbing his crotch to offer some comfort to his aching cock. He was sure that he was going to be hard during the whole ordeal, but he didn’t take into account how the dominance of it all was going to make him so fucking desperate to fuck you. Today, however, is all about your pleasure. He will find a way later to ease the need.
In a couple of minutes you are completely bare before him, the heat from the chimney not doing much as your nipples get rock hard in the winter cold. Primo eyes you up and down, his chest rising and falling slowly. A few seconds later he motions for you to get close and resume your previous position on his lap. Once settled he shows you the cuffs, opens them and lets you touch them.
“I want this to be pleasurable for you, my dear. If you don’t feel good or you want me to stop, please let me know, sì?” You nod with a smile, trying to look calm but you can feel yourself vibrating. The feeling of Primo’s hand on your back, the texture of the velvety suit all over your naked body and his breath hitting your neck are driving you insane. And he hasn’t done anything to you! “Arms back, amore, I am going to cuff you up.” Obediently, your hands are set comfortably at the low of your back, almost touching your ass. The cuffs restrain your movements but you don’t feel them tight, they are quite nice actually, the synthetic hair that covers them softens the rigidness of the metal and you appreciate that Primo has chosen this pair in particular. “Now that you are tied up you cannot open your presents, so I hope you don’t mind if I do it for you?” Primo asks with a grin.
“It is okay… I don’t mind.” It comes out in a whisper, almost out of breath as your chest rises and falls in anticipation. The power that he holds right now is making you feel so vulnerable, so small under him, but you love it.
Primo grabs another present, a bit larger this time. Setting it on your lap and tearing the paper. This time the present is a clitoral sucker. There is no pause as he gets the second toy out of its box.
“Papa, those toys come without charge, you know that right?” You ask teasingly.
“Good thing then that I charged every single one of them before I wrapped them, huh amoruccio?” ‘He is really committed, dear Satanas’ you think. ‘There is no escape from this one.’
Without warning he starts kissing your neck, licking that same spot you had dreamed about minutes earlier, now feeling absolutely real. His tongue is so hot, so wet and you regret having your hands tied up as you cannot touch him at all. As best as you can you wiggle to get closer to his body but he stops kissing you.
“Sì, be naughty if you want your present my love…” You face finds the crook of his neck and suddenly a click sound makes you jump slightly. With his free hand, Primo parts your legs and makes you recline slightly so he can have better access to your already dripping cunt. “Stay still.” You turn slightly to see the humming toy approach the place where you need it most. Your forehead is pressed against Primo’s neck, the anticipation building your arousal until he places the sucker to your clit.
The vibrations shake you instantly, the pressure to your clit immediately traveling through your entire body. Your legs feel like gelatin and you know you won’t be able to hold your first orgasm for long. The intense tightening of your abdomen getting more and more difficult to handle as the sucker deals with the bundle of pure lust in between your legs.
“Caro, please, if you don’t stop- ah- I am- I- am going to cum so fast, please… AH-” The scorching heat inside of your dreads to escape so quickly but Primo grabs your side, the feeling of the leather soothing you but doing nothing you alleviate the tension building up inside of you.
“I need to cum, Primo, please, let me cum, don’t take it away, please…”
“That cannot be, we have so many things to try… This was only the appetizer…” As the sentence is finished he takes the sucker from your clit, making you launch yourself forward seeking the contact of it. Gently, Primo holds you and leaves the toy on the floor, grabbing another package. You pant, the air does not stay in your lungs for long and Primo chuckles. “So worked up already huh? Hope you can take all my presents mio sole…”
Slowly, tearing up the paper once more of an even larger package, the third present is revealed before your eyes: a vibrating wand. Your mouth waters, the aching in your core needing it desperately and involuntarily your hips thrust forward, but you cannot move that much more being as restrained as you are. No words are uttered this time, Primo knows what you need and he is going to give it you. Once it is on, he gets the wand closer to your core, not touching it, but looking at it you can feel the vibrations all through you.
“Primo, please. I need it. Please, per favore, make me cum…” You shift slightly, rubbing his erect member, teasing as much as you can so he gives it to you already, but the plan doesn’t go as planned when he withdraws the toy from the proximity of your core.
“I told you to be naughty, not a teaser my dear. In the end, I am the one bestowing these gifts to you, you need to treat me good, sì?” Tears form in your eyes and you nod.
“Yes, I am sorry, I’ll be good.”
“Davvero? Then moan for me, my love…” Suddenly, the wand is pressed against your clit without a warning. The vibrations stronger than before, the tightening in your abdomen quickly approaching as you moan for your lover.
“Primo, ah- ah- fuck! So good! Don’t stop please, don’t- I- I am going to cum! Please keep-keep going, ah- fuck, fuck, fuck-”
“Do it for me my dear, cum now for your Papa…” and oh Satanas, you do, so hard. Your whole body spams on top of him and you involuntarily rub your ass against his hardness, making him moan as well. “Cazzo, my love, that was powerful… you feel so good on top of me, fuck!”
Trying to regain your breath, Primo turns off the toy and leaves it next to the sucker. Immediately after another package is on his hands while you try to compose yourself back.
“This is a special one, we haven’t tried something like this before, but you are going to look so good with it on…” He says, breaking the paper on top of your lap once more.
The toy in front of you is not familiar to you, but the form tells you everything you need to know. The picture in the box shows a necklace supporting two chains that end on some type of pincers, and you blush instantly. He takes it out and puts the velvety choker around your neck as if it were the most beautiful diamond necklace. Then, he grabs the two pincers and shows them to you.
“These won’t hurt, but if you feel too uncomfortable, please, let me know.”
“Okay…” You say in a low tone, almost embarrassed of how easily Primo can make you tremble so much while being so gentle with you.
“MMMMMMMMM!!!” you hiss from the contact in pleasure as he pinches one of your nipples, rubbing your core against his leg in response, coating it all with your juices. His eyes go wide open, he had never heard you moan like that. Then, he goes for the other and now you scream from how the pinch-y feeling on your very sensitive nips is making you want to choke on Primo’s cock. The pressure feels so nice against your swollen nips, but you need so much fucking more. You continue rubbing yourself on the velvety fabric of Primo’s pants, chasing your pleasure once again. Primo lets you move briefly, the chains around your chest and your reddened nipples have him hypnotized, how they hug your body, how the metal slaps your skin and gets stuck where you are sweating. The beads of sweat mixing with the shinning metal and the swollen and slightly bruised skin, all that combined with your desperate motions and sounds…. he wants to fuck you senseless, no, he needs it. You are his present and you just got a nice little bow to go along how fucking sinful you look right now. His cock rubs slightly against your ass and he doesn’t stop you this time, he needs some type of relief, but he doesn’t want to be greedy. This is entirely about you, he remembers, so he reconsiders and grabs your shoulders, stopping you instantly.
“Cuore mio, as much as I would like to fuck you until you could not move for a few days, e credimi, lo voglio, cazzo… This is about you…”
He is so cute, he really wants to prioritize your pleasure, but you have other plans. You don’t really want to do have all the fun alone, even if he is the one administrating your pleasure, Christmas is about sharing after all.
“Give me another present, I crave it. I need to cum again… Primo please…”
“Peccaminoso Satana, I am going to give you everything you need…” Primo grabs present number five and tears the paper without hesitation. This time it is a normal bullet vibrator.
“This one is just to get you ready for the rest, love, we won’t be using it as much…”
As Primo gets the vibrator closer to your opening you cannot avoid the shiver that runs through your spine. The over stimulation of your first orgasm still sending waves of pleasure and spasms all over your body. Involuntarily, trying to avoid the contact with the toy, you wiggle backwards on Primo’s lap. Noticing your sudden attempt to flee he tightens his grab around you, keeping you in place.
“Love, you have to be brave. It was only one orgasm… I know by experience that you can give me more. Per favore, permettimi di farti venire…” There is no need for you to understand what he is saying because you know and your core twitches in delight, the over stimulation from before turning once again into the need to be filled and taken care of. So, silently you buckle your hips forward once more to the same position as before, your cuffed hands pressing on Primo’s thigh, making him shiver under you. He is so desperate for any type of pressure that the sightless touch from his amore makes him jump.
Accepting your fate, you fold your knees and spread your legs open, letting your cunt free for Primo to see. From his position, he can see your folds glistening, your clit engorged and red and your entrance so deliciously looking, so ready to be fucked. Primo licks his lips, he is so thirsty for you, he just wants to put his face between your legs and eat you out like the most delicious Christmas feast. Then, he catches you looking at him with puppy eyes, you have been left there waiting, how rude of him, he couldn’t never deny you anything.
Primo opens his legs slightly so your butt leans on the more than spacious throne’s cushion, which makes you fall back, but thankfully Primo’s gloved hand pushes on your back slightly, placing itself on the broad of it. When he looks at you for confirmation for him to continue you nod, and he guides the bullet dildo to your entrance. When it finally goes in, it opens your folds with a wet sound that makes you moan. The toy isn’t specially big, but its coldness, the pressure on your nipples and your previous orgasm makes it feel so fucking good. Primo follows a rhythmic pattern in and out, in and out, your core sucking in the toy with ease… maybe too much ease. You need something much bigger, Primo thinks, something that opens you up just like his cock does.
With a pop sound, Primo gets the dildo out of you and in return you mewl sweetly, begging for its return. You are so horny, all this teasing, this denial, the anticipation and even the slight feeling of despair, it is making you so fucking horny. You just want to be fucked over and over and over and over.
As if reading your mind, Primo gets another present, the biggest yet. He catches you looking at it and rises the still wrapped package. As he does so, you take notice of a folded piece of the wrapping paper that hangs loosely. Straightening your back and using only your teeth, you grab the paper and go down, tearing it open with your mouth. Primo observes attentively, his aching cock more and more in need of attention. Waves of memories come back to him of you using your mouth so sweetly and skillfully on his leaking shaft. He thanks the Dark Lord every single day for bringing you into his life, filling every single aspect of his life with your light and your warmth, you are his sole after all, and he will ache for you forever.
The next present is a bunny vibrator, also red, Primo has really committed to the holiday theme. Your mouth waters, so ready to feel what Primo has to offer. As a token of your appreciation you kiss him, hot and sloppily, trying not to fall from your position and he reciprocates eagerly. Every movement you do, every look, every moan it is driving him closer to the edge, and now… this…
While kissing you, he positions the dildo to your entrance, getting the clitoral vibrator also in its place. When he turns it on you moan in his mouth, clenching your hands on his thigh, feeling the waves of shock on your swollen clit. Primo takes the chance of your open mouth to bite your bottom lip and enter you with the dildo at the same time and, oh, you could die right there and then and thank Satan for this wonderful gift of lust.
“FUCKING HELL, PRIMO! l-love! It is so good! ah, mmmm” You scream once he let off your lip. The wet sounds of your walls sucking the dildo are music to Primo’s ears. This is exactly what he wanted and yet… he feels like a fucking selfish bastard for wanting you to make those sounds because of his cock, not some toy. The whole point of this was to pleasure you, but he can do that himself. Now he feels a bit distraught, so he is not going to stop until you beg to be fucked by him, no matter how long it takes.
He doesn’t know, but that is what you want as well, you love how he is making you feel, how much he cares about your pleasure, but you also need him so deep inside you. “Aah, ah, ah, AGH AGH!” You scream with each pound into your core, every thrust deeper than the last. It doesn’t get as deep as Primo’s dick, but it is doing its job nonetheless.
“I am going to cum, holy shit, fuck, fuck, Primo-” He is about to loose it, your ass is grinding his cock, and he might cum just because of that. “Please, oh shit, oh fuck, fuck me, please fucking fuck me I need your cock, fuck!” You almost cry, the chains on your chest hitting your sweaty chest, your arms starting to go numb, it is all too much.
“I need to fuck you too, mio sole. But be good, cum for me first, sì? I want to see your pussy clenching this fucking toy mhm? Think it is my cock, then I will give you the real deal.” The need for him to fuck you sends you into a powerful orgasm, one that Primo guides with the toy, putting more pleasure on your clit, making you even squirt all over his pants.
“Cuore mio, così fottutamente peccaminoso, ti scoperò finché non lo farai intorno al mio cazzo.” He whispers with a grave voice that makes you dizzy. You are spent, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you even regret slightly having asked Primo for more, because as you begin to breath normally once again he picks you up as best as he can and sits you on the throne. Not only that, but he unleashes your hands for a second before asking you to rise them over your head. With your limbs hurting you do as he says, grabbing the top part of the throne, and right there Primo locks your hands together again with the pink cuffs. Once you are settled, you observe a couple of unopened presents around you. Wow, you are really THAT horny for each other, huh?
“I need to see you, see the mess that you have made just for me…” Your legs hurt, everything hurts, but the need for Primo wins every single time. As best as you can you spread your legs open, letting them hang over the armrests of the throne. There, he sees your beautiful cunt, swollen, glistening with your release and he kneels there, smelling your juices. He is so fucking hard, but first he needs this, he needs his mouth on you, to taste how sweet your nectar is.
Primo dives right in, his hands at each of your legs, supporting your effort. His hooked nose bruises your clit in the most delicious way, and even if your body feels so tired, with a couple of licks from his skilled tongue you can feel the tightness in your belly starting to build up again. He drinks from you, his face pure lust as he looks at you, lost in your own pleasure, and you wonder how he is holding without touching his erection. He won’t strain from his path, right now being lost in your perfectly sweet cunt.
“Love, please, I need you buried inside of me, give me your cock, scoparmi… per favore, caro…” He needs nothing more. As a man possessed, Primo gets up on his feet and with a dark look starts to work on his pants, still drenched with your arousal and his paints messed from your juices, some of them probably staining your thighs and folds. A satisfied moan escapes his lips as the air of the room hits his cock. Right then you realize how bad he must feel. His dick is so red and swollen, the precum drenching his whole length, glistening like a melting popsicle waiting for a hungry mouth to suck on it.
“Quando lucifero creò il peccato della carne essi pensarono al tuo corpo e ai molti modi in cui poteva essere adorato. Sto per godermi di nuovo il suo dono come se fosse la prima volta, tutto per me.” He groans in quick Italian and you moan in return. You don’t understand a word but, by Satan, does it turn you on when he is so lost in his carnal desire that all that comes out is Italian praises and curses.
“Caro, please, please…”
“Come si desidera…” And with that he aligns himself, hissing from the contact with your cunt “Così fottutamente bagnato, così caldo…” and he goes in with a single motion, slowly, enjoying how your walls clench around his length. All the time he had been outside from you while you enjoyed your present it was killing him, he realizes that now. His place is inside of you, beside you, always with you, nowhere else.
He bottoms in, hitting your cervix on the first try.
“Fucking hell, dear Lucifer… please, oh, please!” You don’t know what you are asking for at this point.
“Dammi un altro, so che puoi farlo, un altro per il tuo Papa” Primo starts to move at a quick pace, he knows he isn’t going to take him long to become undone and he also knows you will be undone soon as well.
There are no words between you now, just pure horny nonsense and the sound of skin against skin, wet and hot and fucking pornographic. Your hands hurt, your knuckles turn white from the grip on the throne and your head goes backwards, your eyes following to the back of your head. Primo grabs your thighs and rises your lower part, your back arching in a very uncomfortable way, but you don’t mind, this way he has a better angle.
He knows how to fuck you so well and you take it the same way, the stretch of your walls making you scream his name over and over so you just open your mouth in awe and close your eyes, lost in pure bliss.
“C-cum for me, mio sole. I am so close too, so… fucking… agh… close.”
With that there is no way of stopping your impending climax, and you do, once again squirting violently around his length. Primo pumps in and out of you, getting his cock almost out of you with every single thrust as he reaches his own orgasm then, his cum mixing with your own release, ropes of his seed flying to your stomach and ever your chest.
“Cazzo! So fucking perfect for me, the- the most perfect creature in the entire world…fuck……..”
Once he is done, Primo falls forward, letting go of your legs but still inside of you, his length going soft. Both your breaths are uneven, you are specially tired after so many earth-shattering orgasms. Sleep catching up quickly with you even in your uncomfortable possition. When Primo takes notice of you almost falling asleep from pure exhaustion, he collects himself, sets you free and lets the chain around your chest fall to the ground, making you groan as thanks, coherent words impossible to be formed right now.
Gently, he grabs your naked form, pulls you to your feet and accompanies you to your shared bathroom where he draws a warm bath to clean you whole. The steam and the warmth calm your aching muscles, making you almost fall asleep right there, but Primo doesn’t let you. He washes you, every single sore part treated with the upmost care and you thank the very day you met him because he is the best present you could have ever gotten. Clearly, he thinks the same as he tucks you into bed, kissing your cheek, looking at you with such love and affection, wishing nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by your side.
----
Italian translations:
amore: love
il suo fiore preferito: his favourite flower
mio sole: my sun
Davvero?: really?
Cuore mio: my heart
amoruccio: my little love
mi dispiace: I’m sorry
bene: good
e credimi, lo voglio, cazzo: and believe me, I fucking want that
peccaminoso Satana: sinful Satan
Per favore, permettimi di farti venire: Please, allow me to make you cum
così fottutamente peccaminoso, ti scoperò finché non lo farai intorno al mio cazzo: so fucking sinful, I am going to fuck you until you do that around my cock
scoparmi… per favore, caro: fuck me, please, dear
Quando Lucifero creò il peccato della carne essi pensarono al tuo corpo e ai molti modi in cui poteva essere adorato. Sto per godermi di nuovo il suo dono come se fosse la prima volta, tutto per me, sempre così buono per me: When Lucifer created the sin of the flesh they thought about your body and the many ways it could be adored. I am about to enjoy his gift once again as if it was the first time, all for me.
come si desidera: as you wish
così fottutamente bagnato, così caldo: so fucking wet, so hot
dammi un altro, so che puoi farlo, un altro per il tuo Papa: give me one more, I know you can do it, one more for your Papa
