While He Waited

There were two things Vito Monti didn't believe in: love and by extention, being a touchy-feely guy.

When he saw Kevin Cleary for the first time, that all changed. Vito found himself falling. Hard.

If Vito had met him back in college, things would be different. Maybe they'd meet at a dorm party. Vito would speak with him, get to know him some before he welcomed Vito's touch. Vito would lean up and whisper into Kevin's ear, "Wanna go back to my room?"

Vito imagined the pale skin of Kevin's earlobe turning red. "Yes," Kevin would whisper back, his voice soft and breathless.

A shot of hot arousal would pass through his groin (much like it did just now). Vito would take him by the hand and lead him through the halls back to his dorm room. He'd press Kevin's skinny ('Maybe a bit too skinny,' he thought, concerned) body against the door. Vito would loop his fingers through the belt loops of Kevin's beige slacks and gaze through the lens of his black-rimmed, rectangular glasses and into his warm, hazel eyes. He'd call Kevin beautiful, tell him just how much he wants him.

"I want you, too." Kevin would say. "I want you so bad."

Vito would ask Kevin what he wanted, exactly. He'd do anything and everything Kevin wanted. All the while, Vito would reach up to play with his red necktie. Kevin would answer, then Vito would caress his narrow face and freckles before he leaned up, meeting Kevin halfway in a slow, passionate kiss. He'd finally get a taste of those plump, pink lips and run his hands through Kevin's curly, red hair.

Unfortunately, they weren't students in college. They were in a shared therapists' office. Kevin was one of the therapists. Vito was his client.