“Out here, I feel like we’re the only two people in the world,” he says, his voice barely audible above the gentle rhythm of the waves.
I feel it too—this sense of timelessness, of boundaries dissolving.The Vatican seems a world away, its walls and protocols meaningless under this vast sky.
“No one watching,” I murmur. “No one judging.”
His hand finds my cheek, warm against the cooling night air. “Just us.”
The kiss begins tentatively, but quickly deepens with a hunger we’ve both been suppressing. The taste of salt on his lips mingles with the sweetness of the wine we shared earlier. His body presses against mine, solid and insistent, awakening sensations that still feel new and wondrous to me.
My back meets the soft sand as Matteo leans over me, his silhouette outlined against the star-filled sky. The weight of him above me sends heat coursing through my veins, a counterpoint to the cool night air on my skin.
“Here?” I whisper, both thrilled and terrified by the thought.
His smile is visible even in the darkness, a flash of white teeth and mischievous intent. “Who’s to stop us? The sea? The stars?”
There’s something primal and sacred about the prospect of making love under the open sky—as if we’re participating in something as ancient and natural as the tides themselves. Matteo spreads his jacket on the sand, creating a small island for us in this vast expanse.
His fingers work at the buttons of my shirt, exposing my skin inch by inch to the night air. I shiver, not from cold but from the intensity of his gaze as he looks down at me. The moonlight bathes my chest in silver, and Matteo traces the contours with reverent fingertips.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, trailing his fingers down my chest, circling my nipples until they harden under his touch, leaving goosebumps in his wake. The contrast between his warm hands and the cool sea breeze heightens every sensation.
I reach up to pull him down to me, suddenly desperate for his warmth, for the weight of his body against mine. Our kisses growmore urgent, teeth grazing lips, tongues exploring with increasing boldness. The sound of waves crashing nearby seems to echo the rushing of blood in my ears.
Matteo’s mouth travels down my neck, his tongue tracing the hollow of my throat where my pulse hammers wildly. He moves lower, across my collarbone, down to my chest. His lips close around my nipple, teeth grazing lightly, drawing a gasp from deep in my throat. Each point of contact burns like a brand, marking me as his in ways no one else ever has. I arch against him, fingers tangling in his thick hair, guiding him lower.
The night air against my bare skin creates a delicious contrast to the heat of his mouth as he traces the line of dark hair down my stomach. My breath catches as he undoes my trousers, sliding them down my hips with agonizing slowness. I lift my hips to help him, suddenly beyond shame or hesitation.
The salt-laden breeze caresses my newly exposed skin, but it’s Matteo’s hungry gaze that makes me tremble. He pauses, drinking in the sight of me fully aroused beneath him, my desire evident and unashamed.
“Marco,” he breathes, my name a prayer on his lips.
Then his mouth is on me, hot and wet and perfect. I gasp as he tastes me, my fingers digging into the sand on either side of the jacket, anchoring myself as pleasure threatens to sweep me away like the tide. The distant roar of the sea mingles with the sounds that escape my throat—raw, unfiltered sounds of pleasure that I never imagined making before Matteo taught me the language of desire.
His tongue traces patterns that make my thighs quiver, his hands gripping my hips firmly to hold me in place as I writhe beneath him. The sight of his dark head moving between my legs, illuminated by moonlight, is almost too much to bear.
“Is this okay?” he asks, pausing to look up at me, his lips glistening,his eyes dark and serious even in his passion.
“More than okay,” I manage, my voice unrecognizable even to myself, rough with need. “Please don’t stop.”
He smiles and continues his exploration, one hand sliding up to caress my chest while his mouth works me relentlessly. My hips rise off the makeshift bed, seeking more contact, more pressure, more of everything he offers. Sand clings to my sweat-dampened back, a thousand tiny points of sensation adding to the overwhelming pleasure.
When he finally moves up to kiss me again, I taste myself on his lips—salt and musk and something uniquely mine. The intimacy of it makes me moan against his mouth, my hands fumbling to undress him, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine.
“I want to feel you,” I whisper, hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. “All of you.”
He helps me, both of us fumbling slightly in our eagerness, laughing softly when buttons prove stubborn. And then there is nothing between us but night air and anticipation. His body, revealed in the moonlight, takes my breath away—the broad shoulders, the narrow waist, the strong thighs now pressing between mine. The feeling of his skin against mine, from chest to thigh, sends shock-waves of pleasure through my body.
Matteo reaches into his discarded trousers, retrieving a small bottle. “I came prepared,” he admits with a slightly sheepish smile. “Though I imagined a bed, not a beach.”
I laugh softly, pulling him down for another kiss. “I like this better.”
His fingers are slick and gentle as they prepare me, circling, teasing, gradually pressing inward. The initial intrusion makes me tense, but his patient touches and murmured encouragements help me relax. He works me open with painstaking tenderness, watching my face for any sign of discomfort, adding more lubricant when needed.
When he curls his fingers just so, I arch off the jacket with a sharp cry, stars exploding behind my eyelids. “There,” I gasp, clutching at his shoulders, feeling the muscles shift beneath my palms. “Right there.”
He smiles, repeating the motion until I’m writhing beneath him, incoherent with pleasure. The initial discomfort has given way to a need so intense it borders on pain.
“Now,” I finally gasp, my legs falling open wider in invitation. “Please, Matteo. I need you now.”
