"Albero dell'Anima"
"Stop there," Mezenga ordered, causing Luka to stop as the boy approached them. "I want to look at you while he sucks me off," he added. Devin's green eyes shot up slowly, his mouth still wrapped around Giancarlo's massive shaft.
Luka paused, his hand going for his now fully erect member. Luka was endowed, sporting a perfectly shaped 10-inch dick inside his hand. He smiled. A trained smile. Something he'd mastered through the years. One born from practiced rather than will. But as he tried his best to keep it genuine, something inside Mezenga's eyes forced Luka to peel the smile away slowly. His head became lighter, his eyes heavier, and a soft, surprised chuckle escaped his lips.
"Sei una creatura straordinaria, Luka..." Mezenga whispered. There was awe in the bull's voice, which took Luka by surprise.
"You should hire a translator," Luka joked, his hand increasing in rhythm as his eyes darted at Devin, whose head now bobbed up and down on Mezenga's cock. The slurping sounds of his mouth feeding on the Italian hunk's cock echoed around them.
But even then, Mezenga's focus seemed to be Luka, the young man's body now the playground for Mezenga's eyes.
"Touch yourself," Mezenga ordered before quickly adding. "But...keep stroking your cock."
Luka's right hand froze, and he blinked once before his left hand slowly rose, brushing his perfect skin as it trailed upward. It passed through his stomach, lingering there briefly before it coasted on his chest. He began pinching his right nipple, the tip of his fingers playfully teasing it, causing the thin layer of light brown hairs around it to prickle.
He could see Mezenga's eyes changing, becoming brighter. Even then, despite Luka knowing that look, the look he always managed to pull from every single one of his clients, he still felt uneasy.
Mezenga's grip around Devin's blonde curls tightened, causing the boy to moan and gag as he felt his head being pushed down on the bull's cock. And the longer Luka's hand drifted around his skin, climbing up to his neck, the tighter Mezenga's grip became. Luka kept going, finding it hard to resist the way Mezenga's gaze followed his hand. How it pierced through him. Luka loathed that look. He loathed it from every single client he had ever encountered. All except this one.
And just then, and for the first time in his life, Luka walked up to Mezenga's chair and leaned down, his knees punching the soft linoleum floor with the gentlest thud. He didn't understand why. He didn't seem to care either. But Devin certainly looked surprised when Luka's arm came brushing in, shoving him gently off Mezenga's cock, taking his place between the bull's legs. Devin slid to the side, one arm up, his hand holding his head as he stared at Luka, smiling.
"Hmm," Mezenga groaned. "Sneaky little fucker," he added with a smirk.
"Shut the fuck up," Luka muttered, grabbing Mezenga's cock and diving his mouth into it.
Mezenga's head instantly fell back, and a smile splattered across his face. Not because he felt he had won a small battle but because he, like Luka, knew what had blatantly flown over Devin's head. That what Luka was about to do wasn't out of sport or a sense of duty or honor to their agreement. He just wanted to get Devin away from Mezenga's cock.
"Ragazzo geloso..." Mezenga growled as he felt Luka's tongue swirling expertly around the head of his massive tip.
Devin's mouth was soft, velvety, and submissive. But Luka's? My god. Luka's was smooth, determined, and utterly inebriating. A spell that latched to one's soul like a curse. The swirling of the boy's tongue prompted these swift, shaky shivers to run through Mezenga's body. His head snapped back up, and his eyes met Luka's, who looked up at him, his gaze both soft and hard.
"Fuck, dude," Devin uttered, his lips stretched into a grin. He had seen Luka suck cock before. But not like this.
Luka pulled back, eyes piercing Mezenga's. "You like that?" he teased, licking the tip as he spoke. Mezenga nodded, and without missing a beat, Luka dove back in, his face disappearing as his long hair fell over his chestnut eyes.
Mezenga lifted his upper body, holding his weight with his elbows, and ran one of his hands over Luka's back, feeling the boy's smooth muscles and admiring every detail. Devin observed, his face dancing between a slight shock and an urge to giggle.
"Fuck that's sexy..." he mumbled.
"Shut your mouth and get in here," Mezenga ordered.
Devin slid up and lunged at Mezenga's right nipple, licking and biting it gently. The Italian bull's hand kept skating along Luka's back, seemingly enamored by the boy's sudden willingness to be touched. And the deeper Luka's mouth dove into his cock, the deeper Mezenga's hand ventured until it finally reached Luka's ass. Perfectly shaped, muscular, and smooth as a peach. Mezenga could feel its muscles flexing as Luka bobbed his head up and down, slobbering all over his cock. He could feel Luka's throat tighten around him, covering at least half his size. But it wasn't Luka's obvious talent at sucking that propelled Mezenga's chest to explode into these heat waves that spread across his whole body. It was the undeniable pleasure of having someone like Luka under his touch.
"Mio Dio," Mezenga let out. "I can't wait to slide inside that beautiful ass," he added, chuckling almost to himself.
But the comment jolted Luka from his momentary daze, and he lifted his head, his mouth sliding off Mezenga's cock with a loud pop. Yet, his hand kept jerking the bull.
"You can't take a hint, can you?" Luka uttered, his lips slightly bloated and his face now flushed red.
"Hmm," Mezenga groaned, his eyes squinting in thought while the sounds of Devin's moans as he sucked on his chest filled the room. "Two million," Mezenga shot back.
"What?" Luka questioned, frowning while his hand kept jerking Mezenga's meat.
"I'll give you two million," Mezenga offered. It was the first time Luka felt a slight trepidation in the bull's voice. It surprised him enough to cause his hand to stop jerking him off.
Devin's head stopped, and his emerald eyes darted slowly between the two. After a brief pause, Luka released this snarky snort and, without missing a beat, mouth agape, dove back into Mezenga's cock. The thick meat slid like honey through a smooth surface this time, the movement escorting a prolonged groan from Mezenga's mouth.
"Fuck, boy..." he mumbled, to which Luka responded with a soft moan, his tongue gliding up and down the base of the bull's shaft, teasing its sensitive spot. "Fine...fine...have it your way...three..." he growled. "Fuck... I'll give you three million," he blurted out.
"Dude," Devin stuttered with a nervous chuckle.
But Luka didn't stop. He didn't even flinch, his head now furiously bobbing up and down on Mezenga's cock, spit dripping down from the corners of his mouth and sliding down, subverting into Mezenga's bush. It must have been seconds, probably a fraction of a second. But for that moment, Luka felt he was winning. That moment before the first twitch of a cock on the edge of orgasm. That threshold between desire and release. The bounce before the dive. For his entire life, it had never felt good. Not ounce. But this time? This time, it did.
Soon, he felt the first warm string hit the back of his throat. Mostly salty, slightly bitter, but with a note of sweetness. Just enough to nudge his throat to swallow.
"Fuck," Mezenga growled.
Then came another shot. And another. And another. And Luka swallowed. Every single string. As if each of them was worth a million dollars. And under him, Mezenga shivered in pleasure. From under his stuffed mouth, Luka's soul grinned. All the money in the world couldn't change the fact that even the most powerful man turned into a shivering mess, provided he'd be offered the perfect blow job.
Pathetic, Luka thought.
As he swallowed the last drops of Mezenga's thick cum and felt the bull's twitching subside, he finally pulled back. His swollen lips slid slowly along the glistening shaft, and he pulled up, rubbing the back of his hand on his mouth.
"That was a mouthful," he joked. "I need another drink," he said, standing up and slowly walking to the back of the room towards the bar.
Mezenga's eyes followed him, his sweat-drenched chest heaving. Devin lay next to him, eyes slightly squinting as he glanced at Mezenga's still hard, still twitching cock. When Luka returned with another glass of scotch and reclaimed his seat on the sunbed in front of Mezenga's, Devin's hand stroked the bull's insatiable monster.
"Not bad, old man," Luka teased, his gaze locked on Mezenga's shaft before shifting back to the man's face. "What are you, fifty?" he asked.
Mezenga smiled, falling with his elbows back on the sunbed. Then, very slowly, his expression began to change. Luka couldn't help but feel as if the light was being sucked out of the room. Mezenga turned sideways and leaned into Devin, whispering something into his ear. That made Luka pause. And before he knew it, Mezenga stood up and walked toward Luka. Inches from Luka, he finally stopped and, after a second, crouched before the boy just enough for their eyes to meet.
And then, Mezenga spoke.
"You know what I find fascinating, Luka?" he began, voice dipping into an earthy register, almost serene. "It's not the way you move like someone who's always prepared to run. Or how you speak like you're afraid someone might hear how badly you want to be held. No, what fascinates me…is how desperately you try to seem untouchable. That edge. That glare. The armor," he continued, eyes darkening with each word.
Luka could feel himself shrink, his chestnut eyes shivering slightly.
"You've spent your whole life surviving, outsmarting, fighting, whatever it took. You learned how to play people before you even knew how to read them. You think control is power. That if you're the one steering the ship, no one can hurt you," Mezenga drilled, his shadow growing. "But here's the truth...boy. Control is a leash. And you? You've tied it around your own neck," he said.
Luka's neck pulled back, trying to evade the weight of Mezenga's breath on him. But it was everywhere now. Coppery, dense and impossible to escape.
"You're just another stray who thinks he's a wolf. And all it takes is a man like me to remind you... You're still starving," Mezenga uttered, every word layered with silent cruelty. Only when Luka blinked did he realize his eyes had held tears the entire time. They skated down his cheeks without warning. Mezenga smiled and snatched the glass of scotch from his hand. "Nothing will give me more joy than to see you squirm and moan under me while I ram my cock into you. But I'm a patient man," he said, chugging the glass down his throat before placing it back in Luka's hand. "In the meantime, it's best if you sit back and just...relax. I know you're used to being in charge. But I'll take it from here," he announced.
With a playful wink, he tapped Luka's knee and stood up, walking away. Just then, two men walked inside the room. Mezenga strolled past them, raising his hand in signal.
"Accompagna i ragazzi nella loro stanza."
*
(The following morning)
When Luka stirred, the room was a haze of light and shadow, oozing a dense scent of wine, musk, and lavender from the sheets. His skull throbbed, dull, rhythmic pulses behind his eyes as if something had been beating there all night. He groaned and sat up slowly, the sheets falling from his torso, damp with sweat, his body heavy with the weight of drink, smoke, and Mezenga's words. Those fucking words.
"Piece of shit. Who the fuck does he think he is?" he mumbled in a raspy voice.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting them hover just above the cool tile floor. The room felt foreign, luxurious in a way that made his skin itch and his throat dry. His eyes wandered across the space, settling briefly on the other bed across from his.
Devin.
He was splayed across the mattress, half-covered by a sheet that did little to protect his naked body. The soft blonde fuzz running down his legs glimmered slightly, his golden hair curled against his cheek, his mouth slightly parted, and his lashes cast soft shadows. He looked like something painted, fragile, godlike, and careless all at once.
Luka blinked hard, dragged a hand down his face, and stood. Each step to the window was a small victory against the leaden pull of his limbs. He undid the shutter's lock and pushed the wooden panels open. The light washed over him like water, warm, blinding, alive. It slid across his bare chest, catching on the faint sheen of sweat there, igniting his breath's soft rise and fall. He leaned into it, eyes narrowed, but not turning away. Outside, the vineyard stretched vast and endless, dew clinging to the vines. The leaves shimmered in the morning sun, rows of perfect green stitching their way across the hills.
For one moment, Luka forgot.
He forgot the cold pavement from two nights ago, the sour taste of street hunger, the damp nights curled under metal stairwells, and the quiet fear of being nothing. Here, he was warm. Fed. Comfortable, it felt.
Then it came. The flash.
Giancarlo's eyes across the lounge. The million-dollar offer. The laughter of men. Devin's voice, 'I'm in.' The clink of a glass, the weight of an invisible collar tightening around his neck. And those final words. Sour and eerily accurate. Luka flinched and stumbled back. The sun was suddenly feeling too loud and accusing. He reached for the balcony door and closed it with a soft click, pulling the curtains shut. The light severed like a breath held in too long. He turned.
Devin hadn't moved. He slept like the world never hurt him. Like it never could. Luka stared at him for a long moment. His chest rose and fell. Rose and fell again. Then, quietly, Luka sat back on his bed, elbows on knees, hands dangling. Luka lowered himself to the edge of the bed, the mattress sighing beneath his weight. The light from the window was now muted by the drawn balcony curtains, casting gentle slats of gold across Devin's skin like fingers from another world.
Luka didn't speak. He just sat there, silent, staring.
Devin lay on his side, hair tousled, lips parted in sleep, his face all soft angles and deceptive innocence. The sheet clung to him low on the hips, revealing the pale slope of his back and the curve of his ribs like notes pressed into parchment. He looked unreal, an alabaster figure carved by someone who knew the body and the soul beneath it.
Luka's eyes moved slowly, drinking in every line, every breath. There was a stillness to Devin that only sleep could grant. Awake, he was all motion and laughter and flirtation. But here, now, he was something else. Something quiet. Something unguarded. Luka's heart thudded harder than it should have. His gaze darted toward the corner of the room. No mirrors. No shadows that looked like eyes. But still, he felt watched, not by someone, but by the sheer weight of what he felt.
He turned back to Devin.
Luka stretched out a hand, slow and unsure. His fingers hovered just above the curve of Devin's foot. He didn't touch it. Couldn't. Instead, he began to trace. No contact, just a ghost of a touch. He traced the length of Devin's calf, his palm hovering an inch above the skin. His breath caught as his hand followed the soft dip behind the knee, up the swell of a thigh barely hidden by tangled linen. He moved across the gentle rise of Devin's hip, the curve of his plump ass cheeks, following the line of his spine like a map, something to be deciphered, memorized. Every inch of Devin was familiar to Luka. They had slept back to back on hard benches, clung to each other for warmth in alleyways, and shared showers in train stations, hotel rooms, and places too ugly to name. But this was different. This was not needed. This was reverence.
He wanted to speak, to say something. Anything. But before any words could escape, Devin stirred. A slight movement at first, just a twitch of the foot, then a deeper breath. His eyes fluttered, lashes catching the light. He blinked once, twice, groggy and slow, and then looked up.
"Hey," his voice, husky from sleep, curled like smoke.
Luka froze, his hand still hovering in its silent orbit. His startled and vulnerable eyes flicked up to meet Devin's. Devin blinked again, slowly registering the scene. A pause stretched between them. It was quiet, tense, and golden.
Then, a lazy, lopsided smile tugged at the corner of Devin's lips. "Were you watching me sleep?" he whispered.
Luka blinked, startled like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He scoffed, stood abruptly, and walked the three feet to the window just to pretend he had somewhere else to be. "No," he said too quickly, too flat. "I was…making sure you were still breathing."
Devin propped himself up on an elbow, the sheets sliding out and exposing his smooth ass and soft cock. He grinned like a cat in the sun, eyes still heavy with sleep but sharp enough to see straight through Luka. "Right. How noble of you. So selfless. Just hovering over my naked body in the name of health and safety."
Luka glanced over his shoulder, deadpan. "You snore like a dying pigeon."
Devin gasped, all mock offense. "Fuck you. I don't snore. I purr. Like a very sexy panther," he said, one leg curling instinctively. Luka's eyes couldn't help but follow the blonde's movement, catching the faintest glimpse of his perfectly pink hole as his cheeks gently parted.
"Panthers don't drool on pillows," Luka fired back, trying to brush the image off.
Devin grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it, missing Luka by several inches. "You should be grateful I share my bodily fluids with you."
Luka turned slowly, arching a brow. "That's gross."
Devin was laughing now, hair falling into his eyes, unbothered and beautiful in that infuriating way he had. "Look me in the eye and tell me you weren't admiring the goods."
"I was not..." Luka started, voice climbing an octave before he caught himself. He cleared his throat. "I was just…you were quiet. I thought maybe you were dead for once, and it gave me a weird sense of relief."
Devin smiled, soft now, less teasing. "You're a terrible liar."
Luka shrugged and turned back to the window. They sat in that comfortable space for a moment, Devin watching Luka, Luka watching the vineyard.
"You could've just said I looked cute," Devin offered.
"You look like a feral gremlin who stumbled into a luxury hotel by accident," Luka said without turning.
There was a slight pause before Devin finally countered. "Still watched me sleep, though."
The knock came just as Luka was about to reply. He blinked toward the sound, sighed, and peeled himself from the window's warmth. Devin stayed sprawled in the sheets, arm tossed over his face in mock exhaustion.
Luka opened the door, the heavy wood creaking softly. Mister D stood there, crisp as ever, in a dark suit with a pocket square that matched his tie. His gaze hung on Luka a moment too long, cool and assessing.
"I trust last night's activities didn't leave you…too exhausted," he said, his tone laced with something unreadable.
Luka's brow twitched. He glanced back at the room, at Devin, still bare-chested, sheets pulled up slightly to cover his best parts, grinning like he'd been born in silk sheets.
"We're used to it," Luka said, voice even but laced with sarcasm.
Mister D offered a nod, but his lips curved faintly. "Good. Boss is presently…busy with business affairs. In the meantime, he's asked that I show you around the estate. A day of leisure, as he put it."
"Leisure?" Luka echoed, eyeing the man. There was always a catch with Mister D. Always that smooth surface hiding sharp edges.
"Something like that," Mister D replied, tone maddeningly vague.
Luka's eyes flicked to Devin, who sat up and wiggled his eyebrows, clearly entertained. Mister D followed Luka's gaze but said nothing.
"Fine. We'll get dressed," Luka muttered.
"I'll wait for you outside," Mister D said with a slight bow before turning and disappearing down the path.
Luka shut the door with a sigh. Without warning, Devin leaped off the bed, all limbs and mischief, and bolted toward the bathroom, completely naked. "I call dibs on the rain shower!" he shouted, laughing.
Luka rubbed his eyes. "You can have it."
From the bathroom, the sound of running water and Devin's humming filled the air. Luka leaned against the closed door, a quiet, brooding expression creeping onto his face despite himself.
"Leisure," he muttered. "Right."
*
Fifteen minutes later, the sun was high, warm, and golden as it poured across the villa's stone paths. Luka and Devin stepped out, dressed in relaxed, breezy clothes for the heat. Luka had rolled the sleeves of his linen shirt up to his elbows, while Devin wore something ridiculous and flowy, like he belonged in a music video filmed in Capri.
Mister D was waiting beneath a sculpted olive tree, his hands clasped neatly in front of him, sunglasses perched like armor on his face. He gave them a once-over and smirked.
"So," he began, "what sort of activities are you boys craving?"
Devin let out a low chuckle and shot a sideways glance at Luka. "You might regret asking us that."
Luka rolled his eyes. "It's hot as fuck. You have an outdoor pool or something?"
Mister D shook his head slowly. "No. But…” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black remote. "I have something better. Follow me."
He turned, not waiting for agreement, and the boys followed closely behind him, curiosity pushing them forward. They crossed a shaded courtyard, citrus trees, and a modern greenhouse and reached a long rectangular building with rust-colored stone and glass-paneled windows. Luka squinted against the light bouncing off the sleek facade. And that's when Mister D tapped the remote.
The heavy garage gate hummed, rising inch by inch until the inside was revealed, and Luka's jaw almost hit the ground.
Inside, cars. Dozens of them lined up in perfect rows. Vintage Ferraris, Lamborghinis in every shade of sin, sleek Bugattis, and old Aston Martins gleaming like museum pieces. There were rugged Land Rovers with leather interiors and low-slung Porsches that looked like dust hadn't touched them in years.
"Holy shit," Luka muttered under his breath.
Devin whistled. "This is some James Bond-level stuff."
Luka wandered deeper into the space, fingers twitching like he wanted to touch but didn't dare. Every car was pristine. Revered. A living collection. His eyes danced over a candy-apple red Corvette, paused on a matte black McLaren, and finally settled on a '70s Mustang. He turned to find Mister D waiting near the back of the garage, next to a polished olive-green Jeep with no hood, chrome trim catching the light. Luka was obsessed the second he saw it.
Mister D slid into the front seat like he'd done it a thousand times. "Coming?"
Devin didn't wait. He ran past Luka and hopped into the back with a grin. "Shotgun doesn't apply to convertibles!"
Luka hovered by the passenger side, hesitating.
Mister D glanced over, one brow raised. "What's the matter, Mr. Streetwise? Getting shy on me?"
Luka smirked, but before he could answer, Mister D stepped out, circled the car, and stopped before him. He pulled the key from his pocket and tossed it at Luka without warning. Luka caught it, barely.
"You scratch it," Mister D said smoothly, "I take it out of your payment."
Luka stared at the key in his palm, then up at Mister D, who looked entirely too pleased with himself. Luka chuckled low in his throat, stepped around the side, and slid into the driver's seat. The leather was warm, and the wheel was heavy and firm in his hands. With a single twist of the key, the engine roared to life.
The open jeep roared along gravel paths wound through vineyards heavy with green, sun-soaked vines. Mister D sat calmly in the passenger seat, legs crossed, giving short and confident directions with the ease of someone who had walked every inch of this land. After what felt like it could have been one hour but was actually no more than fifteen minutes, Luka began to slow down as the road narrowed.
Eventually, Mister D raised a hand. "Park here."
Luka furrowed his brow as he brought the jeep to a slow halt near a thicket of trees. He glanced around at the seemingly untouched wilderness. "I thought you said this place was inside the property," he said, turning to Mister D.
Mister D smiled with maddening calm. "It is," he replied. "All of this is Mezenga's land. Every vine, every stone. Welcome to the back garden."
Before Luka could react, the back door flung open, and Devin was already out, springing into the air. "Come on!" Devin called back, his voice echoing between the trees.
Mister D stepped out without a word, gesturing for Luka to follow. Together, they walked down a sloping path covered in sun-dappled moss and crushed leaves, the scent of pine and wild thyme clinging to the breeze.
And then, it revealed itself.
Just beyond a bend, past the gnarled trunks and a patch of tall grass, the earth opened into a secluded valley where a river spread wide into a crystalline lake. The water shimmered like polished glass. The banks were soft and pebbled, ringed by weeping willows whose branches trailed like silk into the shallows. Dragonflies zipped across the surface, and the air smelled of clean earth, jasmine, and distant lavender. On the far side, massive slabs of smooth stone jutted from the earth, perfect for lying back in the sun. A wooden dock jutted slightly into the water from their side, weathered but sturdy, swaying gently.
Devin was already halfway to the shore, his arms stretched out like a dancer. Luka stood still for a moment, drinking it in. It was the kind of beauty that made your chest ache. Unreal. Untouched.
Mister D watched them both with a satisfied smile. "I thought you two could use a little serenity."
Devin's laughter rang across the secluded clearing, and Luka turned just in time to catch a blur of skin as the blonde peeled off his clothes and ran naked and barefoot across the warm, pebbled shore. His lean and wild body gleamed in the sun, muscles flexing with each step before he launched himself into the water in one graceful arc.
A loud splash followed. Then silence. Luka held his breath.
A second later, Devin burst from the surface, gasping with a great, theatrical inhale before screaming at the top of his lungs, a sound so pure, so primal, it shook the stillness of the valley.
"Holy shit! It's freezing!" the blonde yelled.
Luka couldn't help it. A crooked smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, and he watched as Devin floated on his back now, arms spread, eyes closed. His face lifted to the sun like he belonged to it. The water lapped around him like it worshipped him. Luka watched silently, folding his arms, grounding himself in the weight of that beautiful image.
Mister D, who had remained a few paces back near the treeline, cleared his throat lightly. "I'll wait in the car," he said, his voice gentle for once. He turned to leave.
Luka hesitated, then called out, "Hey, Mister D." The older man stopped, his profile silhouetted against the sun's brightness. "You don't want to join us?"
It was an offer Luka never thought he'd make. But something strange in the stillness followed like a string had been plucked between them. Mister D didn't look back right away. When he did, Luka caught something unexpected in the man's eyes. A flicker of something. A quiet sadness. Nostalgia. A lifelong past.
"I've had my fair share of Mezenga's generosity," he said quietly. "Enough to last a few lifetimes." His eyes drifted to the water, to Devin laughing with his whole body as if the world had never hurt him. "You boys enjoy it while it's still yours." Then he turned again, and this time, Luka let him go, waiting until the man vanished between the trees.
Then, like a whip crack.
"Luka!" Devin shouted from the middle of the lake. "Get that fine ass in here!"
Luka blinked back into the present, grinning despite himself. He began tugging off his shirt and pants, with the sun now hot on his back and his feet moving toward the water. He waded in slowly, the cold gripping his skin with every step, until the water welcomed him fully, folding around his flawless body with ancient calm. He didn't dive or splash. He swam the way he lived, controlled, smooth, and constantly aware. His strokes cut clean through the stillness, his eyes half-lidded, his mind lost somewhere between the bottom of the water and the weightless peace of floating on its surface.
Devin, by contrast, danced with the lake like he'd been born from it. He darted and spun, diving under, popping up with arms outstretched to hug the sun. His blonde hair clung in wild, wet strands to his forehead, his body gliding without care, stirring small waves that caught the light and threw it in Luka's direction.
They were two parts of the same storm. One the lightning, the other the rumble. For a while, they moved independently, Luka tracing lazy lines toward the reeds, Devin floating backward through the middle of the lake, humming something tuneless under his breath. But then, something shifted.
Luka turned toward him just as Devin's humming faded into silence. Their eyes met across the water, an invisible string pulling tight. Neither smiled. Neither looked away. Like magnets slowly surrendering, they began to drift toward each other. Their circles tightened, creating a silent orbit. The space between them dissolved inch by inch until Devin stopped swimming, suspended in place, waiting. Luka hesitated, his chest rising and falling, his brow drawn in that cautious way he had when the world felt too real, too close. But still, he moved forward, pulled by something he couldn't name.
And that's when Devin closed the distance.
He swam into Luka's arms, slowly, carefully, as if asking a question with every inch of skin that brushed against the other. His arms wound gently around Luka's neck, not possessive, but present, like he belonged there. His body fit along Luka's, legs circling his best friend's waist. Luka's breath caught, his arms hovering slightly above the water's surface.
But then he exhaled. And surrendered.
His hands found Devin's back, sliding down his spine with reverence. He pulled him in closer, their bodies aligning, floating together in the center of that vast, silent lake. The world around them blurred, only the rustle of leaves, the cry of a bird somewhere far away, the sound of water lapping at their skin. Time fell away.
Luka pressed his forehead gently to Devin's.
They floated without direction, the current gentle like the lake itself cradled them. Devin's arms stayed looped around Luka's neck, not tight, just there, familiar, warm, easy. His chin rested on Luka's shoulder, and his breath brushed Luka's skin with every quiet exhale. The silence between them stretched, not awkward, but full. Full of unsaid things. Full of a decade's worth of running, surviving, watching each other's backs, and never daring to look too closely.
Finally, Devin's voice broke the surface. "Luka?" the blonde called.
"Yeah?" Luka muttered, feeling his body melt into Devin's.
"You ever...you know...think about what it'd be like if we weren't always...looking over our shoulders?"
Luka's jaw tensed. He kept his eyes trained on the horizon, on the sun-glazed trees that lined the bank. "Not really our style."
Devin chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Luka's chest. "Yeah, but still. Just imagine it. A place. A real bed. A door that locks. Not needing to count our cash before breakfast."
Luka's throat tightened. "You're literally describing where we are now."
"That's not what I meant..." Devin leaned back just enough to see Luka's face, his hands still resting on his shoulders. He nudged his hips forward, feeling Luka's cock brushing his crack gently.
Luka's gaze finally dropped to meet Devin's. There was something raw in the look Devin gave him. Unfiltered. Honest. Something Luka had tried not to notice for years, tried to brush off as just part of who Devin was. But now, wrapped in his best friend's body, water, and sunlight, it felt like more.
"You're drunk on sunshine," Luka muttered, trying to break the moment with a crooked smile.
Devin grinned. "Maybe I'm a little high on you."
Luka's heart stuttered. He tried to scoff, but it caught in his throat. "Don't..."
"What?" the blonde probed, swaying his hips, feeling Luka's cock grow under him, the stud's ten inches sliding along the slit of his crack. "I'm just saying..." Devin tilted his head. "Why do you always get weird when I go there?"
"I don't get weird," Luka replied, a beat too fast.
Devin smirked, his voice dropping. "You're weird right now."
Luka closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the war inside him. Devin was always like this. Unapologetically open and brave with his feelings. Luka didn't know how to do that. Not when every soft thing inside him had been hardened by years of cold nights and closed doors.
"You're my best friend," Luka said, his voice low. "That's what we are. You and me. Always have been."
Devin nodded, but the smile faded from his face. "Yeah. I know." He paused. "But sometimes I think about us being...more than that."
"Dev..." Luka stuttered, his cock pulsing now. He could feel his hips nudging forward, the tip of his cock brushing against the warmth of Devin's peach.
"You know how many times I wanted you inside me?" the blonde whispered, his mouth searching Luka's ear. "Sometimes...I dream about you fucking me," he whispered again.
Luka's hands drifted to Devin's waist, holding him just beneath the water. He swallowed hard, his jaw working. "You don't know what you're saying," Luka murmured.
"I do," Devin said. "And so do you."
The words hung there, suspended between the water ripples and the thrum of their hearts.
Luka looked away, his voice a whisper. "I...I can't lose you."
"You won't," Devin whispered back, closer now. "Not for loving me."
Luka held Devin in the water, not saying much, his eyes trained anywhere but on Devin's mouth, how droplets clung to his lashes, or how his skin shimmered like something out of a dream. But Devin was too perceptive for silence.
"You're doing that thing again," Devin said, tilting his head.
"What thing?"
"That thing where you look like you want to kiss me, but you'd rather drown than admit it."
Luka blinked. "That's not a thing."
Devin grinned. "It's totally a thing," he said, slowly tracing a circle on Luka's shoulder with his finger.
Luka shook his head with a breathy laugh and tried to push him away, but Devin didn't budge. Instead, he wrapped his legs even tighter around Luka's waist, hanging on like a koala. "God, you're so fuckin' annoying," Luka muttered, laughing as he tried to wriggle free.
"Face it, you love it," Devin teased, tightening his grip.
"I hate it," Luka lied.
And then it erupted, splashing and spinning, arms wrestling, hands grabbing. Luka tried to dunk Devin, who shrieked with laughter and clung tighter. They twisted in the water, their bodies slippery, their laughter echoing against the stone edges of the riverbank.
"You little...!" Luka gasped, trying to catch his breath as Devin wrapped him up again.
"You're losing your edge, dude," Devin said, breathless, his nose inches from Luka's. "You used to be scary on the streets."
"I am scary."
"Terrifying," Devin murmured, smiling. "Especially when you smile."
Luka stilled.
Devin's voice softened. "You have the most beautiful smile, you know that?" The words lingered in the air like mist. "It's a shame," Devin added, "you try so hard to hide it."
Luka looked at him, stunned still. Devin held his gaze for a long beat, the setting sun painting gold over his face. Then, without waiting for an answer, Devin slowly let go, his legs slipping off Luka's body as he turned and swam toward the riverbank. The world shifted. The water was cooler now. The sun, lower. Birds rustled somewhere in the trees, and the sky began bleeding pink and violet. Luka floated on his back, arms spread wide, chest rising and falling. He watched Devin walk out of the water naked and effortless, the muscles in his back moving like something carved.
Devin turned over his shoulder, his voice playful. "You coming?"
Luka closed his eyes briefly and muttered to himself with a crooked smile.
"Always."
*
As the boys trudged up the slope back to the jeep, Mister D leaned casually against it, cigarette in hand, a thin stream of smoke curling above him like silk unraveling. He didn't speak as Luka and Devin approached, their wet skin glistening and hair dripping from the river.
Without a word, they slid into the jeep, Luka at the wheel, Devin sprawled lazily in the back. The ride back was quiet, the wind tugging at their clothes. The vineyard stretched endlessly before them, golden rows undulating like waves beneath the dying light. When they finally pulled into the drive, Luka cut the engine.
Mister D flicked the stub of his cigarette into the gravel and exhaled one final stream of smoke. "Did you boys enjoy the dip?" Devin nodded first, a slight smile on his lips. Luka hesitated but then gave a slight nod, too, eyes forward. Mister D adjusted his coat, clearing his throat. "Mezenga is expecting you for dinner tonight."
But before the moment could settle, Devin's voice cut in from the backseat. "Hey, what's that tree down the path?" he asked, squinting. "Looks kind of weird."
Mister D followed his gaze, turning ever so slightly. "I don't think we have time to..." he started, but by then, Devin was already out of the car, his bare feet slapping lightly against the sun-warmed gravel.
Luka smirked, stepping out as well. "Yeah. He does that a lot."
They followed Devin, who was already halfway down the path, his curiosity leading him like a dog chasing a scent. As they neared, Luka could feel it. The air changed. The breeze softened. The light, though still bright, took on a surreal hue. And then he saw it.
The tree loomed before them, not just big but colossal. Its trunk was wide enough to hide a car behind, and its bark was aged and twisted like frozen smoke. Branches coiled upward and outward, forming a web of deep green leaves that shimmered subtly in the breeze. The last specs of sunlight poured through the canopy in long golden shafts, spilling like honey onto the wild grass below. And the flowers. God, the flowers. Suspended from the lowest branches, they glowed like something out of a fever dream. Large, petal-heavy, and colored in impossible violet, crimson, and amber gradients, each one seemed to pulse slightly as if breathing.
Luka stared, hypnotized. "What is this?"
Devin stood beneath it, awestruck. "It's like...alive."
Mister D finally spoke, his voice low. "It's been here for centuries. Brought over from the old world. A rare breed. Very uncommon."
"What's it called?" Luka asked.
Mister D paused. His eyes stayed on the tree. "Albero dell'Anima. The Soul Tree."
Devin's hand slowly lifted toward one of the lower flowers, his fingers brushing the air near its strange, luminous petals.
"Don't," Mister D said sharply.
Devin froze, startled. "Why not?"
"Mezenga doesn't appreciate people touching the tree," Mister D replied. "It holds...sentimental value."
Luka raised a brow. "Didn't peg him for the sentimental type."
Devin gave a shrug, then turned and padded back toward the car, still half-lost in wonder.
Mister D started after him, but Luka remained. His eyes narrowed, catching something odd. "That's weird..." he muttered.
Mister D stopped but didn't turn. "What is?"
Luka stepped closer to the tree, careful not to touch it. "The flowers...they've all got different seeds. Like, none of them match." Silence hung for a beat too long. Mister D didn't reply. Luka turned. "Did you hear me?"
"Come," Mister D said over his shoulder. "We should head back."
Luka lingered for a moment longer, eyes on the tree's swaying branches. Something about it didn't sit right.
But eventually, he followed.
Minutes later, the jeep rolled to a gentle stop just outside the annex. Luka killed the engine, the hum fading into the soft chirping of crickets in the surrounding vineyards. The sun's last glow lingered just beneath the horizon, streaking the sky in burnt pink. Devin hopped out first, stretching lazily. Luka followed with a sigh, his fingers brushing through his damp hair.
Mister D rounded the vehicle and took the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors though he didn't need to. "The main house. Seven o'clock sharp," he said, his tone even, eyes fixed on the windshield. "Don't keep him waiting. He doesn't like it."
The boys nodded silently, already halfway to the front door.
As they slipped inside and closed it behind them, Mister D ignited the engine again and reversed slowly, headlights sweeping across the gravel. He drove down the path toward the garage. The massive metal doors hissed open with mechanical grace. Mister D pulled the jeep into its designated space, one among dozens of pristine machines, each gleaming beneath low, strategic lighting. Before stepping out, he sat for a beat longer than needed as if gathering his thoughts. By the time he arrived at the main house, darkness had draped over the vineyard like a velvet curtain. The manor glowed from within, amber light spilling through tall, arched windows. He walked up the grand stone steps, strolled through the main hall, knocked on Mezenga's study, and entered, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting.
Giancarlo stood near one of the shelves, his head bent over an old, timeworn book. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his silhouette was framed by the dim golden light of a standing lamp. The book trembled slightly in his hands, though his expression remained calm.
"How did it go?" Mister D asked.
Mezenga didn't look up. "Well, you know…doctors," he muttered, his voice low and distant. After a pause, he finally turned, tossing the book open on the table with a soft thud. His face was unreadable, and the charm usually painted on his features was stripped bare.
Mister D took a step forward. His concern was evident in the subtle furrow of his brow. "You need to rest."
Mezenga waved a hand dismissively and walked to his desk, dropping the book onto it. "Il riposo è per i morenti," he said, but his tone was not humorous. The silence settled before Mezenga straightened and turned toward Mister D with renewed sharpness. "So?"
Mister D hesitated momentarily. "The blonde is brittle. He won't be a problem," he answered, suddenly pausing. "But this boy, Luka…he's different. He's not like the others." He seemed to search for the right words. "There's something there. Something…anchored."
Mezenga's lips curled into the faintest smile. Not joy, but an insidious satisfaction. "All the more reason I need him." Their eyes locked, and that's when Mister D's eyes changed color, mirroring Mezenga's dark gaze. Then Mezenga's voice returned to its commanding edge. "Prepare for dinner. Everything needs to be perfect."
Mister D nodded, his expression tightening. "Of course." He turned and exited quietly.
Once alone, Mezenga sank into his chair with an exhale that seemed to pull everything down with it. He reached for the book again, sliding his fingers under its cover and closing it with the gentlest touch. Almost reverent.
On the worn, cracked leather of the cover, illuminated by the lamp's amber glow, its title gleamed in embossed gold.
Johannes Hartlieb - "ARTES PROHIBITAE"
(To be continued...)
Casual Wanderer © 2025
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