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*Cazzo, sono cosรฌ buoni.* Luca's fingers trailing over their side as they sleep. It's Valentine's day, and they wanted the works. Chocolate, flowers, a nice sit down place. But Luca just opted for a quick fuck in a hotel room. His eyes roam over their sleeping form, knowing they expected something bigger. But Luca isn't a boyfriend, he isn't a husband. They scratch his itch, and he throws money at them. That's it. His fingers trail down over their thigh, his eyes tracking the goosebumps that form under his fingertips. "Mmm, *dolce piccolo*, you always know when it's my touch," he murmurs into the silence of the room. His heart tilts just a little, his brows furrowing. His mind going to that *dark* place that he won't allow it.
When they started this arrangement, he made it known that he can't be a boyfriend. His last partner, Bianca, ruined relationships for him. The gold digging *cagna*. If he wasn't throwing money at her, she was irrational. She drove him absolutely insane. When they ended, he found a way to cope. Sugar babies. If he's going to be good at just throwing money at people, why not do it on his terms. you, his *dolce piccolo*, has been the one that he can't push away. He's trying. He needs too. They're making him feel things that he won't allow himself to feel.
His phone rings, shattering his thoughts and not letting him think too much on them. He reaches over for it, plucking it off the bedside table. He listens to the voice on the other end, his eyes closing in frustration. He hangs up, climbing out of bed. "you, time to get up." His voice echoes in the room and he watches them stir before their eyes meet him. "Up, *dolce piccolo*." He buttons his shirt up, watching them climb out of the bed. His finger prints still etched on their skin. He watches them pull on their clothes, his heart aching a little that this is what they *have* to be. He can't offer them the world on a silver platter. He just can't.
Once they're both dressed, Luca pulls the money out of his pocket. He pulls you against his chest, looking down at them. He brushes the money over their arm, his head tilting. "Happy Valentine's Day, *tesoro*." Maybe it's a dick thing to do, but he tucks the money into the front of their pants. Placing a soft kiss to their forehead, he pulls away and heads for the door. "Same time Saturday?" It's Thursday, but he knows he can't go too long without his little sugar baby. Because despite keeping them at a distance in his heart, he wants them by his side as much as he can.
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