|09| - "Was it really that dirty?" -

In the first week of December, Nathan made his final trip to Italy for the year. It would also be the final time we saw each other before Christmas, and the break between this trip and my return home would be the longest period apart we'd gone so far.

With that in mind, we were determined to pack as much into the trip as we could, starting off with the Christmas market in Bologna.

When I'd imagined Christmas markets, I always had this very specific image of areas full of wooden huts, decorated with lights. A huge Christmas tree would loom over the square while people wrapped up winter clothes would weave in between all the stalls, cupping drinks of mulled wine to stay warm. Christmas carols would blare out of hidden speakers, adding an extra element to the seasonal environment, and snow would begin to fall, coating the streets in pure white.

Bologna Christmas market wasn't quite like that. Then again, I wasn't in Germany, where my stereotypical vision of a Christmas market had likely stemmed from—according to Nathan.

It was cold, but it wasn't snowing. There was a huge tree, though, and Nathan and I spent some time trying to take a decent selfie underneath it before a kind Russian man offered to take the photo for us.

In terms of the wooden huts, there were several stalls—some of them made from wood—but they weren't as tightly packed together as I'd imagined, failing to create that little Christmas city that my head had conjured up. Nevertheless, they sold some lovely things, and Nathan and I made a good dent in our Christmas shopping by purchasing some traditional Italian delicacies before stopping for a drink.

"It's nice," he said.

"The wine?"

"No—well, yes, the wine, too—but I meant the Christmas market. They've made a good effort."

"I know," I agreed. "I just wish it wasn't so damn freezing."

"Oh, stop your whinging. You're guaranteed to have a better summer than England so a little bit of cold won't harm you."

"Little bit of cold? My toes are numb."

"We're obviously not doing enough walking, then."

"And what about my fingers?"

"What about them?"

"They feel like they're about to fall off."

He smiled at my dramatic attitude but shuffled his chair closer, before taking the wine glass from my hand and setting it on the table.

"Here," he said, unzipping his jacket and then curling his fingers around my wrists.

Slowly, more so for his benefit than mine, Nathan pulled my hands towards him and then slid them beneath his top. His warm skin contracted at my icy touch, but he kept hold of my wrists, encouraging me not to move them.

When my fingers began to thaw, the sensation returned to them, and what had started as an innocent way to warm me up turned into something more intimate. My eyes remained on Nathan's, but my fingers were spanning the contours of his six pack, gliding over his smooth skin and exploring his body in a way that felt exciting to do in public.

My hands were warmer now, and the rest of my body had a hot thrill running through it, too.

"I think I'm good now," I said, my voice coming out much lower than I intended.

His lips curved into a knowing smile, a wave of suggestiveness being transferred from his eyes to mine, and he dragged my wrists downwards again. In doing so, my hands brushed against his crotch for the briefest of seconds. It was so subtle that a passer-by wouldn't have noticed, but the hardness beneath his jeans was unmistakable.

I took a sip of my wine, hoping the alcohol would calm me whilst I searched for a conversation starter to distract us from the growing tension.

"I'm thinking about doing a Christmas hamper for my family," I told Nathan, setting my wine glass down onto the wooden table and then peering into my bag of purchased items.

"That's a good idea."

"I mean, I've made a good start here, and then I was thinking about getting some Prosecco, a pandoro... And then there's a department store about ten minutes from our flat which sells unusual flavours of pasta."

"Unusual?"

"Yeah, like salmon."

"Wouldn't it be more authentic if you went into a restaurant and asked if they sold any artisan pasta?"

I pulled a face and placed the bag carefully onto the ground again. "That would involve having to speak Italian to a real Italian person."

Nathan laughed, his breath visible in the cold air. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that is why you're here, isn't it?"

"Nope. I'm here because a year abroad is a compulsory part of my degree."

"You know, if you refuse to engage in the local lingo, then I'll have no choice but to use only Italian when we speak."

Although I knew he was being serious about me improving my Italian skills—and he knew I was only messing around when I claimed I didn't want to use them—I couldn't help but lower the tone of the conversation.

"Does that include in the bedroom?"

He tried to keep a straight face, but that sparkle in his eyes was instantly recognisable to me.

"I believe you prefer to understand exactly what I'm saying to you in bed."

I smiled, suddenly feeling much warmer—and it wasn't due to the wine.

☼

That afternoon, Nathan did talk dirty to me in Italian. And I didn't understand what he was saying. It didn't matter, though. The melodic sounds of his husky voice murmuring down my ear were enough to set my senses on fire, turning me on to the extent that he thrust long and hard into me, over and over again.

The headboard thumped against the wall, the bed creaking incessantly, but the loud noises of our energetic sex ceased to bother me; if anything, it was a vocal reinforcement of just how hard Nathan was pounding me and that did nothing except encourage me to urge him on.

Jasmine, being the all-knowing soul that she was, had left us a note when we'd returned to the flat after the Christmas market. She'd written just one line:

- I'll be out until 9pm so go wild.

I'd only mentioned the noisy bed to her once in passing, but she'd evidently remembered it and didn't want to deprive me of a mattress beneath my back for a change.

Nathan had needed no further invitation, immediately pinning me up against the wall and latching his mouth onto my neck. My eyes closed and my fists clenched at my sides, prompting me to release the note I was still holding. It fluttered to the floor where it would undoubtedly serve as a reminder later that evening.

"Fuck," Nathan gasped—in English—as he came inside me, the throbbing seeming to endure for much longer than usual. "Fuck."

With a lazy smile, he rolled off me and into the space to my right. His chest rose and fell with his deep breaths, and I resisted the urge to make a comment about how his trips to the gym weren't improving his levels of fitness. For once, I withheld the temptation to tease and concentrated on catching my own breath.

"Did you understand any of it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to look at me with a smile.

I smiled back and closed my eyes. "No. Maybe I'll have to start taking this Italian business more seriously, after all."

He chuckled and draped an arm over my stomach. "If you're able to understand that through regular day-to-day chatting, then I'll have to seriously consider what kind of conversations you're engaging in, Bella."

That intrigued me. I rolled onto my side and shuffled closer, resting my head against his chest.

"Was it really that dirty?"

He paused before answering and I knew he was debating how to handle my question. Would I try to persuade him for a translation? How would I feel about the translation?

"Let's just say... I've never said those things to you in English before."

I smiled against his chest but knew better than to pry any further. There was probably a reason he'd not said it in English before, and I'd allow him the time it took to do so. It was clear what it therefore involved—all the stuff we had done together, he'd described explicitly to me on several occasions mid-sex. This most likely involved things we hadn't done before.

"I love you," he said, kissing my forehead.

"I love you, too."

As Nathan and I cuddled, it felt like bliss. Regardless of his mysterious dirty talk, sex between us only seemed to be improving, and I knew I should count myself lucky that it was only getting better the longer we were together. Our chemistry was hotter than ever, my body more responsive than it had ever been, and I knew the long distance was contributing to that.

Of course it made me miss him more when we were apart, but the explosive reunion almost made up for it. With love so deep and chemistry so strong, I couldn't imagine anything coming between us during the year.

☼☼☼

Thank you for reading :) xx