Chapter Nine

Santino realized his dinner choices weren’t Florida summer-friendly as the air conditioning struggled to cool off the heat from the oven. He hoped Ryan would like what he’d whipped up. Cam had gone up to Daytona Beach for a little vacation to give him some alone time. Hearing a knock at the door, Santino answered it.

“It smells delicious in here!” Ryan beamed, sauntering into living room. He sucked a deep breath in. “Heavenly.”

“My grannies would agree Italian cooking is the closest thing to heaven on earth.” Santino waved to the couch. “Have a seat. It’s almost ready. Want something to drink? Beer? Wine? I have nice chianti for dinner.”

“If you start making Hannibal Lector noises, I’m out of here.” Ryan jerked a thumb toward the door.

Santino laughed. “I’m joking. It’s actually Lambrusco. I’m not much of a wine drinker. I tend toward the slightly sweet.”

Ryan shrugged. “Same here. I’ve never understood the appeal of dry wine. I’m more of a craft beer person, but for now, I’ll take a sweet tea if you have it. Tea’s my real addiction.”

“I can see why. I’ll go pour a glass.”

Santino walked on wobbly legs as he fetched the drink. Being this nervous was stupid. This wasn’t their first date. He knew they were pretty compatible. What if Ryan didn’t like his cooking? Was that what he worried about? Or was it the possibility of some bedroom action making him jittery. It took him a moment to realize Ryan had followed him.

“You sure you don’t need any help?” Ryan dug a plastic snack baggie out of his pocket and surrendered it to Santino. “Also, here, before I forget or lose it.”

Weight lifted off Santino when he spotted what was inside the bag. “My malocchio! I’m so glad it didn’t fall off when we were in the comic book store or at the gardens. I’d hate to lose it. Thanks for calling and telling me you had it. And, no, I don’t need any help. I already have dinner set up in the dining room. Too hot to eat in the kitchen.”

“Story of Florida’s life. I usually sack out in front of the TV for dinner. Sad, I know,” Ryan said. “What’s a malocchio?”

“A charm to protect from the evil eye. Here, this is the mano cornuto.” He tapped the hand, making the sign of the horns. “And this is the cornicello. Mine’s old, made of red coral which was very important back in the day before coral became so endangered.”

“What is important about the coral in terms of the charm?” Ryan asked as Santino threaded it onto the gold chain and tucked it under his shirt.

“Red is considered very protective.” Santino poured two glasses of tea. “This might not be as sweet as you’re used to. I don’t know how to make it all syrupy.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Santino handed Ryan his glass. “If you don’t mind taking this into the living room, I’ll get the antipasti, and we can nosh on it while dinner finishes up.”

“Sure.”

Santino pulled the stuffed figs out of the oven and the prepared platter of meats and veggies out of the fridge. He tossed the figs onto the bare spot on the platter, drizzled them with a balsamic vinegar reduction, grabbed some napkins, and carried it out. He already had Doctor Who on BBC America turned down low in case they got nervous and needed something to talk about while dinner cooked.

Ryan eyed the platter as Santino slid it onto the coffee table. “That’s the appetizer? You’re sure it’s not the entire meal?”

“Haha, I did promise the grand Italian tour. Don’t worry, I eliminated the secondo, the big meat dish, because I made a heavier primo—stuffed shells, some with meat, some just cheese.”

“Where do I start?” Ryan pointed to the meats on the platter.

“Anywhere. Those are gorgonzola-stuffed, prosciutto-wrapped figs, and the meats are capicola, mortadella, and salami since I couldn’t find bresaola here without going to Orlando. The olives speak for themselves, and pinzimonio is olive oil, salt, pepper, and garlic.” He indicated the bowl next to the veggies. “You dip your veggies in it.”

Ryan picked up a tooth-picked fig and sucked it off the spike. He chewed it happily. “Delicious.”

“Glad you like it.”

They nibbled on a few more of the vast array of antipasto before Ryan asked, “Is the malocchio standard equipment for a member of the Aspida Pneuma?”

Santino couldn’t contain his smile. “You figured it out.”

Ryan cocked his head, studying Santino. “So it’s true?” His voice wavered. “I mean the Aspida Pneuma is really real?”

“Very much so.” Santino braced himself for fear or rejection, but if Ryan was afraid, would he have come here? “And the idea didn’t scare you off?”

Ryan glanced away. “It almost did, but I had to know more. It’s fascinating. What does that say about me?”

“You’re smart, curious, and brave.” Santino cupped Ryan’s chin, bringing his face back to his. “I find it sexy.”

“Good.”

Santino kissed him, sliding his tongue into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan pulled him closer as their tongues explored. Ryan caressed his fingers along the contours of Santino’s spine. The room grew hotter, and his pants snugger. Santino sat back.

“If we keep this up, we’ll forget all about dinner,” he said, struggling to regain some control.

“And you worked too hard for that. We have all the time in the world later.” Neither of them sounded particularly convinced dinner couldn’t wait.

The oven timer decided it for them. Santino ushered Ryan into the dining room and set him to pouring the wine while he fetched dinner out of the oven. He carried in the huge pan of stuffed shells, then returned with a platter of oven-roasted garlic and asparagus, and a gravy boat of extra sauce before going into the kitchen for the basket of bread he had warming on the stove top.

“Technically, you wouldn’t serve the contorno with the primo.” He pointed to the asparagus. “But I don’t want to wash a dozen plates. Try the bread. It’s parmesan cheese bread, usually served for Easter, but I was showing off a little there.”

As Santino sat, Ryan took a piece of bread and sampled it. “Amazing. So rich.”

“It ought to be. It’s mostly a ton of cheese and eggs with enough flour to hold it together.” Santino plated a couple of stuffed shells—one cheese and one meat filled—for both of them, and let Ryan help himself to the asparagus. “There’s extra sauce right there if you want it. Homemade.”

Ryan took a bit of one shell and closed his eyes, smiling. “Delicious.” He reached for the sauce boat. “That settles it. I’m going to have to marry you or at least keep you chained in my kitchen for life.”

Santino snorted. “I might not object to the chains, but I have uses beyond the kitchen.”

“Kinky. I’ll have to discover those uses later. Of course, I’m not sure the Aspida allows for this kind of fraternization. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Why you went to the reading and why you mentioned me leaving here?”

“See, smart and sexy. Yes, that’s part of my and Cam’s mission. You have real abilities. I’d love for you to join us. As for me and you, well, I probably wouldn’t be there for the training, but afterwards, we could use you on the team. Neither Cam nor I have your abilities.”

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Santino raised his hands. “I’ll explain more, and it’s not like you have to make an instant decision.”

As they ate, Santino explained more about the Aspida until it looked like Ryan was overwhelmed. The conversation shifted to the Indiana Jones-themed bar, Jock Lindsey, in Downtown Disney, and from there, to a lengthy discussion on the whole franchise and the merits of working in a theme park date even if it was blazing hot out.

Convinced his stomach had no room for another shell, Santino gestured to the kitchen, concentrating hard. He floated a dish of cut peaches and asiago and fontina cheese into the room. It settled on the dining room table with a thump.

“Still showing off, I see.” Ryan grinned.

“I’ve only just begun to show off,” Santino promised. “Normally, we’d start the insalata and secondo now, but I didn’t want to still be eating at midnight so formaggi e frutta it is.”

“Not sure I’ve ever had cheese for dessert before.” Ryan helped himself.

“Oh, this isn’t dessert. That’s yet to come.” Santino snagged a peach and a slice of asiago and ate them together.

“If I eat like this every night, I’m going to end up with my own gravitational field.” Ryan patted his belly.

Santino snorted. “I don’t go all out every night. Trust me. Some days, I simply nuke a burrito.” He floated two peach slices up along with some cheese, making them cartwheel in midair.

“Does it get tiring?” Ryan nodded to the display. “Is there a limit?”

“Yes to both.” Santino gestured, moving the dancing fruit toward Ryan, who plucked a slice out of the air. “Little stuff like this I can do all day, but heavier items are more tiring. If I were to pick up and throw you, for example, it’s unlikely I’d be able to do it more than twice. Still, it’s a good trick if you’re fighting something nasty.”

“Is ‘something nasty’ the other reason you’re here? Why you were asking about the people who passed out?”

Santino nodded, thrilled Ryan caught on so quickly. He pushed away from the table, getting to his feet. “Maybe. Not too much nasty since no one has been seriously hurt, but something is going on.”

Ryan scowled. “That’s a little frightening.”

“A little. Hopefully, not too terrifying because Cam and I will be the ones dealing with it, and I’d rather not get into a major blowout without much in the way of backup. We can discuss that later.”

Santino disappeared into the kitchen and poured the espresso he had waiting before getting out the dessert. He carried both using hands and PK power. “Caffè and dolce. I couldn’t decide between this and rum baba, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like the latter.”

“Rum baba?”

“Basically rum cake, but rum’s a strong flavor, so I went with chocolate zucchini bread. Speaking of strong, the espresso is.”

“Sounds perfect.”

From Ryan’s expression, it was. They finished dessert, and Ryan helped him clean up and put everything into the dishwasher. Santino poured them both a drink. “A digestivo, limoncello.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Ryan let Santino link arms with him and lead him into the living room, where the couch waited like a comfy refuge. They were still over-full. On the TV, Doctor Who had given way to Star Trek, which was just as good as they sat, shoulder to shoulder, sipping the lemon liqueur.

“There’s a flaw in your plan to woo me with your amazing cooking,” Ryan said.

“Would the flaw be that despite a strong desire to get naked and do nasty, wonderful things to each other, you’re not sure you can actually move?”

Ryan patted his belly. “Definitely the flaw.”

“Guess we’ll have to wait an hour.”

“That’s for swimming, but I suppose the principle remains the same.” Ryan linked fingers with Santino. “This organization you’re trying to recruit me for, is it dangerous?”

“Yes and no. In theory, my mission here is one of rescue, and relatively harmless, but sometimes it is very dangerous, which is why I said no snap decisions. You really need to think about it.”

Ryan raised their hands to his lips and kissed the back of Santino’s. “Is there a trial basis? Like, I could take a leave of absence here and see how it goes?”

Santino leaned in, dropping a kiss on Ryan’s neck. “That’s usually how it’s done. There’s no penalty for changing your mind other than keeping our secret.”

“Or sounding like a madman if I try to tell anyone about it.”

“Exactly.”

They fell into companionable silence broken only by discussions of Picard versus Kirk and Data versus Spock. Somehow, the mutual appreciation of Worf’s manliness led to kissing, deep and exploring—an exploration that went more full body as they got their fingers into the act. However, the couch, which came with the house rental, was sleek and modern and perfectly wrong for making out on: no room to stretch out.

Taking Ryan’s hand, Santino pulled him along into the bedroom and then peeled him out of his T-shirt. His shirt and their shorts—cargo and boxer—ended up in a pile on the carpet. Santino toppled Ryan onto the bed he never bothered to make. Ryan pulled Santino down with him. He wrapped one arm around Santino’s waist and trailed a hand along the plane of Santino’s hip while lightly stroking Santino’s hardening cock.

“Nice,” Ryan murmured.

Santino ran his fingers over the slightly fuzzy line of Ryan’s belly before encircling them over Ryan’s shaft. “I was thinking the same.”

A few kisses more and thinking went out the door. Santino nuzzled Ryan’s neck and shoulder, his thick stubble scraping across Ryan’s sensitized skin. Ryan pressed into his touch just as the air conditioner chose that moment to kick on, blasting them with cold air. Santino traced his thumb over Ryan’s erect nipple, giving it a gentle tug.

Catching Santino’s hand in his while gently pulling it away from him, Ryan kissed his way down Santino’s torso and then slid Santino’s cock into his mouth. He slowly circled his tongue, circumnavigating the head of Santino’s cock, making him moan. Santino caressed Ryan’s soft, pale hair, working his fingers against his scalp in a light massage as Ryan enjoyed his cock as if it was the final dessert of the day.

Santino eased himself out of Ryan’s grasp and flipped over to share the love. As Ryan took him into his warm, eager mouth, Santino kissed the tip of Ryan’s long slender shaft, fluttering his tongue along the rim. It had been so long Santino froze for a moment, wondering if he could find his own rhythm. He worried for nothing; his lips and hands proved to have perfect muscle memory as he danced them over Ryan’s flesh.

The other downside of it having been a while was how quick it set the trigger. Santino spilled fast, coating Ryan’s fingers. Santino groaned, his fingers digging into Ryan’s hip. As he struggled to catch his breath, he stroked Ryan’s cock faster. Ryan came with a soft grunt. Santino planted a kiss on Ryan’s quivering thigh before flopping onto his back on the mattress.

“Such messy fun.” Ryan chuckled. “The perfect nightcap.”

“No, the perfect part is we’re far from done here.” Santino brushed his fingers along Ryan’s leg.

Ryan made a happy little noise. “Yep, that is the best part.”