*** Warning: sexy stuff ahead! ***

Our kiss grows deeper, gradually progressing from gentle to passionate. Emilio is still kneeling in front of me, my hands cupping his face. I pause to catch my breath, then grab him by the shoulders and pull him up to his feet and into my embrace.

We stumble across the room, our lips locked, our hands traveling over each other's bodies, unbuttoning, untying and unfastening. I push him onto the bed, then pause to get rid of my shirt.

He rises on his elbows, watching me, strands of hair falling on his flushed face. A whiff of breeze from the window steals underneath his unbuttoned shirt and he shivers briefly before reaching out and pulling me to him.

We kiss, and I half lie upon him, my weight on one hand, the other helping him to wriggle out of his shirt and unbutton his pants. His movements make me painfully hard. I groan and press against him, nearly squashing him with my weight. My erection, now free from the confines of my clothes, rubs freely against his thigh.

I help him out of his pants before kicking them to the floor. He lies back against the sheets, naked now, his body colored by the afternoon light. Soft shadows play on his skin, alternating with the patches of glowing white where the sunshine touches his body. He reaches out and I embrace him again, skin to skin, lips to lips, our breaths intermingling.

I move downwards, tracing kisses down his neck and chest. My lips reach his abdomen just as my hand finds his erection. He breathes out sharply and arches his back, pushing into my fist, seeking my touch. The smell of his skin is intoxicating. I run my tongue down his flat stomach, causing him to shudder.

He's perfect. He's mine. It really doesn't matter how many hands have touched him before, what they did to him, what pain or pleasure they inflicted. Perhaps I'll be the first one to touch him like this, with the reverence he deserves, seeing him for himself and not as a toy or a substitute for someone else.

"No more scars," I whisper against his skin. "No more bruises. I'll take care of that."

He chuckles softly, but the sound quickly morphs into a moan as my hand continues its stroking motions.

"Face to face," I whisper. "I want to see you."

Then, we're kissing again. No oil prepared by the absent servants, I use my saliva to prepare him, my finger slipping in as our lips and tongues continue their own dialogue. He tenses as my finger goes too deep too fast. I slow down, sliding it gradually in and out. After a while, his kisses become more passionate and his thighs begin to move to meet my hand. I add another finger and he moans into the kiss.

"Hurts?"

"Yeah." He throws his head back, his eyes glazed with lust, not seeing me, attuned only to his own sensations. "Like...that...ohh...yeah, I want...that."

He's thrusting against me, his hands grabbing at me at random, pushing, pulling, caressing and scratching. He's hard, too, and each time his member rubs against me I can feel a small shiver run through his body. His mouth finds my ear and he catches my earlobe with his teeth .

"I want you," he whispers in between his ragged breaths. "Inside. Of me. Please?"

I obey, adding more saliva before trying to enter him. He pushes forward and then cries out in pain; I pause, but he's pulling me closer again. I begin to slide in, slowly, although it's hard to contain myself. I sink one hand into his hair and pull his face away from me to watch his flushed expression and the occasional brief grimaces of pain as I slide deeper. It almost brings me to the edge, just seeing his face betraying his sensations as my body invades his.

I pull back a little, then move forth again, watching him. As my movements grow more confident, the grimaces of pain become rarer, making room for the expression of equally painful desire.

"Faster," he whispers. "Harder. Oh, please, I want all of you."

And faster I go, abandoning the carefulness and the fear to hurt him. The clouds of lust enwrap my mind, blissfully concealing all that doesn't matter, all that's wrong and all that needs fixing, leaving only the two of us moving in unison, giving and taking, possessing and submitting, pushing each other to the edge of pleasure.

I keep my eyes on his face, beautiful in its agony, and when his body arches underneath me and he cries out, it comes as no surprise to me. We are so attuned by then that my own release hits me almost immediately. I moan, collapsing upon him, and bury my face in that sweet tender hiding spot between his neck, shoulder and his long messed up hair.

We lay like that for a while, enwrapped in the heat of our bodies, and as much at peace with the world as two human beings can possibly be.

*** Ready for the final chapter? ***