The rest of the season, SS Ambrosiana dominated the Champions League. We sailed through the group stage with me and Italia FC's striker, Lollo, tied for seven goals each.

We had a week to go before the quarter-finals and had been given a mandatory day off by Coach Vance.

"Trust me, you boys will need it," he had said after we wrapped up our final group stage match, a resounding 2–0 victory over Torino FC. "I'll see you on the pitch the day after. Rest up today."

"Who do you reckon wins the fourth slot for quarters?" Teo asked the locker room at large once the coach had left; narrowing his eyes at the mirror as he studied his reflection, brushing his fingers through his light brown hair. "Five euros say Lombardi."

"No question about it," I agreed, taking a large sip of water and leaning my head against the cool metal of the locker behind me. "Their offense has been crazy good lately. Highest number of fouls committed this season, no?"

"Yep," Teo nodded, sitting down beside me. "Reckon you and Hayes got it, though," he grinned, slapping my back. I glanced across the room at Elliot, who didn't seem to be hearing us as he carefully put his hearing aids back into his ears and finally glanced up at us from where he was sitting on the floor.

Pippo gave a low whistle and appeared in front of me, shoving a newspaper in front of my face. "He's singing a different song now," he said, pointing to the large, one-page article by Riccardo Bellini. The image was of Elliot and me, smiling at each other right after our second goal against Tuto FC.

"What's he saying?" I muttered to myself, trying to keep my voice steady as the journalist's creepy smile from so many nights ago flashed at the back of my mind. I pulled the newspaper from his grip, squinting at the headline.

"'Hayes and Moretti's mysterious communication and why other teams need to break it,'" I read the Italian headline out loud, and then translated it into English for Elliot.

"I suppose," Elliot began, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, which pre-informed me that he was about to make a joke. "Signing is a rather ancient, lost language."

"Right?" I laughed. "Mysterious communication. Just Google it, man."

Elliot beamed at me, his legs swinging off the bench as he slid back on it.

"To be fair to him," Rossi piped up, "it's definitely more than that. It's like... body language cues, almost like mind reading. Like in a cheesy werewolf pack."

"Oh, I can see the AO3 fanfiction from afar," Pippo guffawed. "But hey, as long as it wins us the league."

"He wrote an entire article about your life the other day on his blog, Luca," Elliot said suddenly.

"Bellini?" I questioned, and he nodded.

"It was rather informative." Elliot sat up straight, pulling his training jacket over himself. "Although, I doubt it was an unbiased review, considering he mentioned a lot about your closeness to me and how it benefits your social standing."

He reached for his orange juice carton, piercing it with a straw as he slowly and loudly— starting sucking on it.

"Bellini's just a jerk," Teo shook his head, leaning back against his locker. "Upset cause his son never made it. Ignore him, you guys."

"Yeah," Ricci agreed, walking over to join our huddle. "Plus—" he grinned, ruffling my hair playfully, "he's obsessed with our Moré here."

"True," Teo laughed. "Next time you see him, just give him a kiss."

"He will not be doing that," Elliot said suddenly, his jaw set tight as he stared at a spot a few inches to the side of my face.

"It... it was a joke, El," I said slowly.

"Oh, in that case—" he gave a high-pitched, clearly fake giggle before resuming drinking his juice in the obnoxiously cute way. I managed to hide a smile somehow. 

"So what are you guys gonna do tonight?" Rossi asked, clearing his throat. "Gina has been dying to invite you guys over for ages. You wanna come? Get some nice dinner."

"Sounds good," Teo replied. "I'll be there. What about you guys?"

The rest of the boys agreed, except Elliot and me.

"Moré?" Pippo asked, squeezing my shoulder. "You're not thinking of busting your ass on our day off, are you?"

More like Elliot's—

I coughed, reaching for my water bottle and taking a few quick sips. "No. Probably gonna get dinner with the fam. It's been a while."

"Sure," Rossi nodded. "Family first, Gina always says."

"Yeah," I agreed, pulling my jacket on and rising to my feet.

"You, Hayes?" Rossi asked Elliot, who was suddenly staring intently ahead.

"Oh, apologies. I think—" he pursed his lips in a poorly concealed smile —I believe I may have plans."

"Right." Rossi chewed on his bottom lip, glancing first at me, then at Elliot, and then back at the rest of the boys, who quickly averted their gaze. I could feel my ears getting warmer by the second. After a short goodbye, I stepped out into the cool night air. I could hear Elliot's light footsteps behind me.

"Luca," he called out, walking up to tap my shoulder. I turned to face him. "You will come with me."

"You are... asking me?"

"No," he shook his head, then pointed at my bike leaning against the alley wall. "Leave that there. Come with me."

"Um, I should probably get some stuff from my apartment first—" I began, but he had already turned away, gripping my hand with surprising strength as he led me to his white Maserati. He slid into the driver's seat, pulling my gym bag from my shoulder and throwing it unceremoniously into the backseat along with his own.

"Where are we going?" I asked, waving a hand in front of his face to get his attention as he turned the ignition.

"My place," he said, smiling brightly.

We fell into a comfortable silence, during which I pulled out my phone to type a quick text to Lucy, asking her to inform Nonna I'd be late cause I was out with someone. She replied with a puking emoji.

I gulped and slumped into the comfy, luxury leather seat. Of course, if anyone else—anyone I was occasionally making out with—suddenly asked me to go to their place for the night, I would have considered it a hook-up invitation. But with Elliot, and the way he was positively vibrating with quiet excitement, I was almost sure he had color-coded, spiral-bound notebooks prepared for me with strategies and statistics about our next game that he wanted to dissect.

Either way, it still meant at least a few hours with Elliot—just with more clothes on than I had imagined.

We pulled up in front of a sleek, rectangular two-story building after about thirty minutes of driving. The front gates opened as the guard verified the number plate and stepped aside. The car pulled into the driveway, and Elliot killed the engine, stepping out onto the gravel.

I followed him, gazing around at the sleek, ultra-modern, minimalist plant decor. A couple of guards were patrolling near the front gates, which were bathed in warm yellow light. A concrete path led to a large set of glass doors, which I assumed was the main entrance. The walls on either side were lined with meticulously trimmed and shaped topiaries.

I gave a low whistle. "Wow. Fancy."

"It's okay," Elliot sighed softly, following my gaze to the garden beyond the hedges. "I prefer my estate back home. But this is all I have temporarily."

I gave an incredulous scoff. "Yeah... It's okay for a temporary place."

"I agree," Elliot responded, completely missing my sarcasm as he led me through the glass doors. The second we entered, however, we were hounded by three dogs—each of whom I remembered seeing in Elliot's phone gallery months ago.

"Master Elliot," a kindly old lady tottered into the foyer, clicking her tongue at the dogs, who were now licking a crouching Elliot's face. "They are done with dinner. Seb was just taking them for a walk."

"Thank you, Agatha," Elliot said, wiping his cheek with the back of his sleeve as he finally straightened up. The dogs turned their attention to me, jumping on their hind legs and sniffing loudly. "Forgive them, Luca," Elliot added. "They are barbarians."

"I'll take them—" Agatha said, taking the three dogs by their leashes.

"Thank you. You can go home now, Agatha," Elliot said to her, then nodded at me to follow him up the staircase. I gawked around the living room, which featured a floor-to-ceiling glass wall, a huge television, an electric fireplace, and a sleek, black leather couch. A large ornate bookcase stood on the opposite wall, while a modular kitchen occupied the back end.

I followed Elliot up the staircase and found him in the master bedroom. A large, king-sized bed—neatly made—stood at the center. There was another television, a PC setup in the corner, and the walls above the bed were adorned with dozens of framed photos of Elliot with all the animals he had owned and fostered over the years.

Finally, he turned around to face me, looking impossibly small in the gigantic room.

"So um, what do you want to do?" I asked, shutting the door behind me.

"Oh." He blinked slowly and shook his head. "I do not have any plans mapped out."

"You invited me," I teased, taking a step closer.

"That is correct," he chewed on his bottom lip. "I did. However... I simply was excited to be with you. I did not plan what it is that I would be... doing with you."

"That's okay," I said softly, gently cupping his face with one hand. "We can just relax and hang out. You want to watch something? Get some dinner?"

His eyelids fluttered shut, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he leaned into my touch. I traced his bottom lip with the tip of my thumb until his silver eyes opened again.

"You may kiss me."

I laughed breathlessly. "Why, thank you."

I leaned forward and kissed him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him flush against me. A soft, breathy moan escaped his throat into my mouth, his hands rising to clasp behind my neck as the kiss deepened instantly.

Tentatively, I placed my hands below his thighs, waiting for a sign that he didn't want this. He leaned back, his eyes on my lips before nodding with a breathy, "Yes."

I lifted his legs around my waist, settling between them and pressing close, till I could feel how bad he wanted me. A soft, ragged intake of breath escaped Elliot as I shifted, grinding my hips flush against his. The sudden closeness had him arching his back slightly off the mattress, a sharp gasp catching in the back of his throat.

His legs tightened around my waist, anchoring me to him as I began to move—a slow, agonizingly steady rhythm that drew a low, trembling groan straight out of his chest. For someone who calculated every split second on the pitch, he had completely lost his ability to keep composure. His cheeks were a deep, dusty pink, his chest heaving heavily against mine with every roll of our hips.

"Luca..." he choked out, his fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt, tugging me down closer. "Luca, please."

I couldn't take it anymore. Having him under me—flushed, gasping, completely unraveling—was systematically wrecking every ounce of restraint I possessed. My mind was completely consumed by him: the precise angle of his hips, the intoxicating heat radiating through our clothes, the raw, undiluted want in his silver eyes. Every logical thought evaporated, replaced by a dark, overwhelming urge to take total control.

Before I lost my head completely, I paused, propping myself up on one arm so he could see my face clearly. I took his right hand in mine, guiding his index and middle fingers to press twice against the side of my neck, right over my pulse.

"Two taps," I murmured, speaking deliberately so he could read my lips. "If it's ever too much, or you want me to slow down... just two taps right here. Got it?"

He gazed at my neck, his fingers tracing the outline of the rose branch inked on the skin. "What does it...stand for?"

"Self-growth," I answered, kissing his exposed forearm. "Not that you have anybody to complain to, but I got it when I was sixteen."

"Is that—" he frowned, his lower lip jutting out in that painfully adorable way, his eyebrows furrowing. "—is that illegal?"

"Not too illegal," I stated. "Where were we?"

Elliot's silver eyes softened. "You are...very aesthetically pleasing." He stated matter-of-factly. "I did not think tattoos could be particularly attractive."

"I think you would look good with one," I grinned at him.

"I am ready now. Two taps if it gets too much," he said. I bit my lip; the thin wire of my remaining restraint snapped.

"Turn around for me," I instructed softly, making sure my lips were clearly visible to him.

Elliot nodded without hesitation, his silver eyes dark with intent. He rolled over onto his stomach in one fluid motion, burying his flushed face into the soft pillows as his back arched expectantly.

I didn't give him time to recover. I placed myself behind him, straddling his thighs, and pinned his hips down before grinding slowly into him from behind. I planted a kiss at the back of his head, inhaling the scent of him. Vanilla and sandalwood, soft, elegant, and mind-numbingly sexy.

A sharp, high-pitched whimpered gasp tore through the quiet room, echoing off the sleek walls. Instead of pulling away, Elliot arched his back helplessly, pushing his hips back directly against mine.

His body was like a drug. Maddening, addictive, threatening, and dangerous in a way nothing else had ever been to me. The only thing that challenged my iron will, bent my discipline, shattering it with every roll of his hips. 

His hands twisted tightly into the bedsheets, his knuckles turning white as he actively ground back into me, completely unprompted.

"More..." he choked out into the pillow, his voice trembling with desperate demand. "Luca, harder... don't go slow."

"Jesus, El," I growled into the shell of his ear, my hands gripping his hips tighter, anchoring him in place as I gave him exactly what he asked for, picking up a fast, relentless rhythm.

Every hard, deliberate roll of my hips brought a fresh wave of quiet ruin from him. He couldn't keep quiet even if he tried; soft, desperate moans spilled from his lips into the pillow, punctuated by sharp, breathless whimpers every time he pushed back to meet my friction. The contrast between his usual stoic, calculating presence on the pitch and the completely shattered, vocal wreck he was beneath me right now was driving me out of my mind. 

"Luca... Luca..." he choked out softly, his body feverishly seeking more of the hard pressure.

"Right there?" I rasped, leaning down so my chest flattened against his back, wrapping one arm around his stomach to pull him even tighter against my lap. I ground into him again, harder this time, feeling the sudden shudder that rippled through his entire frame as he met every harsh, needy press of my body.

The sharp, electronic chime of the doorbell echoed up the staircase, cutting through the heavy, sweltering quiet of the bedroom.

Below us, a sudden chorus of deep, enthusiastic barks erupted in the foyer as someone— the dog walker, as I realized later—unlocked the front door, accompanied by the loud clack-clack-clack of paws on the hardwood floor.

Up in front of me, a small blinker attached near the bed frame started flickering on and off, bathing the opposite wall in flashes of light. I realised it was set up for Elliot to know when someone was downstairs, but right now— with his face buried in the pillows—it was useless.

Elliot froze instantly, his body locking up like a statue under me, his forehead resting against the pillow. Since he didn't have his hearing aids in, he couldn't hear the doorbell or the noise downstairs, but he could clearly feel the heavy vibrations pulsing through the mattress and my sudden stillness above him.

He scrambled to turn over, his silver eyes wide with confusion and a trace of panicked uncertainty as he looked up at me, frantically searching my face to figure out what was going on.

"Luca?" he asked, his voice raw, breathless, and stripped of its usual dignified calm. "What happened?"

"Seb's back with the dogs," I spoke carefully, articulating every word so he could read my lips. Downstairs, I could hear Seb's voice calling out, "Master Elliot? Just bringing the dogs back in! I'll leave the keys on the counter!"

I smiled down at Elliot, continuing to mouth the words clearly for him. "Seb just yelled that he's leaving the keys on the counter and letting the dogs in."

"Oh. Right."

He bit on his bottom lip, his gaze fixed on my lips. He placed one hand on them, tracing them with his fingertips. "You feel rather—" he paused, his eyes darkening before reaching up to meet mine. "—marvelous." 

I chuckled, nuzzling my nose against his as he broke into a fit of soft, breathless giggles. "I appreciate your—" I racked my brains to try and come up with the proper adjective. "—kind words."

He didn't smile at that, his pupils dilating as he moved, and before I knew what was happening— he had swung one leg over me. My hands flew to his waist to support him as he settled in my lap, straddling me. My breath caught in my throat, my control, which was already pushed to its limit, splintering as I held him close and kissed him. I trailed my hands lower down his body, grabbing his ass and putting him where I needed him with a low groan. 

"Luca—" he let out a gasp, his head falling back as I immediately peppered his neck with kisses. 

"I got you," I whispered, sucking softly on the skin, using my tongue to trace the column of his neck. 

He moved with a gasp, his hands squeezing my shoulders as he held on, his face pink when he looked down to face me. 

God. He was going to kill me. Absolutely kill me. 

The drunken haze enveloped both of us. His soft gasps, the way his hips moved against mine, and the evidence of his desire all tangled up in an intoxicating cloud pouring over me in a suffocating deluge. And all I wanted to do was drown. All I wanted to do was lose myself in him. 

"Fuck," I whimpered against his throat, holding him still. "Fuck, stop, El," I gave a weak laugh. I leaned back, raking my fingers through my damp hair as I gazed silently at him. His face was flushed, soft patches of pink appearing on his cheeks, his eyelids heavy, his chest rising and falling. 

"Was it...not good?" he asked, his glistening lips parted as he frowned.

"No, that was—" I held back a laugh, "—splendid."

"Splendid," he repeated with a smile, tilting his head. 

"Indeed." I cupped his face as he leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on my mouth again. 

"You sound like me—" he giggled. 

"That is concerning," I admitted, widening my eyes in feigned horror. 

"It is very concerning," he agreed, his fingers tracing the ink on my neck lightly before the dogs downstairs barked in a particularly strong volley. 

"Elliot?" 

"Mm?" his eyelashes fluttered, a short gasp escaping his mouth as he looked up at me. 

"The dogs." I reminded him.

"What...dogs—?" His eyes widened comically, and he shook his head. "The dogs!" 

I chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose as he broke into another fit of giggles. 

When I finally pulled back just an inch, resting my forehead against his, I gave him a gentle smile, making sure my lips were easy to read. "Let's go say hi to the dogs."

"Okay. In a bit," he whispered before leaning into my chest, breathing in deeply. His hands bunched the front of my sweatshirt, his soft blonde hair tickling me. I held him close, placing my chin on top of his head as he let out another sigh before leaning back. My heart seemed to expand like the Grinch as his warmth melted into mine.  

He blinked slowly up at me, a quiet, beautiful smile that made the stars in the sky outside wither in shame, spreading across his irresistible lips. "Okay, Luca. Let's go."