Our Summer Rhapsody - 2. "Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me"

Oliver's blue eyes blinked uneasily. He had been staring at the ceiling of his hotel room for hours, unable to sleep, with nothing but Jason's snoring on the other bed to keep his anxiousness company. Every time he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, the image of Niko standing over him, his body soaked in seawater, would come rushing back into his mind. And he was still trying to figure out what had possessed him to invite the stud to his father's boat trip.

And now, to make matters worse, he had been obsessing about it all night, afraid that Niko wouldn't show up, or worse, that he would accept his invite. Oliver was fiery but not reckless. This spur-of-the-moment invite made him question everything, feeling his comfortable and cozy shell become thin and fragile. Everything about Niko felt new and alive. Scary yet utterly exhilarating.

"Dude, what time is it?" Jason groaned in the dark.

"It's still early, so go back to sleep," Oliver uttered softly. He rolled to the side, letting the early morning blue aura gently coat his skin, landing softly over his turquoise gaze.

He smiled as he sat in his bed, looking out the window. How bad could it be if Niko decided to show up, Oliver thought? At least he would have a chance to thank him properly this time instead of mumbling it incoherently like an idiot, as he had done the night before. He lay there, his heart racing as he counted every second until finally, around 7 am, the alarm on his Casio watch finally went off. Oliver rolled out of bed and flared the balcony curtains open, showing little regard for Jason's presence in the room. He could hardly acknowledge his friend's existence, his mind wholly occupied with Niko's face, smiling and winking at him. He rushed for the bathroom and jumped in the shower, brushing and cleaning every inch of his beautiful, young, smooth body as if no other task was more consequential. He wanted every inch of his skin bathed in the most expensive shower gel, and every blonde hair on his body sprinkled with the most luxurious perfume.

Under the rubbing water, as he rinsed his beautiful blonde curls, Oliver couldn't help but smile. Suddenly, everything felt bright and cheerful, contrasting with the apparent gloom his mind had been buried in since he had arrived, a funk of sorts that suddenly seemed lifted. But as he stepped out of the shower, after shaking his head industriously to loosen his wet curls and finally looking at himself in the mirror, Oliver was confident again, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Dude, what the fuck is up with that smirk?" Jason's voice asked from the bathroom doorway.

"I just woke up in a good mood. That's all." Oliver mumbled as he brushed a razor blade over his practically non-existent beard, causing Jason to chuckle. Oliver's eyes glanced down at Jason's crotch through the mirror, inadvertently uncovering the young stud's morning boner.

"Jason..." Oliver uttered, smirking.

"Dude, Sophia isn't putting out. I can't even get a second alone with her. Chiara is always circling us." Jason stated with frustration, walking inside, pulling his undies down, and sitting on the toilet. But not before tucking his hardened, 7-inch dick between his legs. Seconds later, he was taking a piss.

"Aunt Chi can be a bit much." Oliver agreed.

"A bit? Dude, she's a vulture." Jason added, feeling empowered by Oliver's sudden compassion.

"She used to be a model, Jason. She's seen her fair share of beautiful young women being taken advantage of by horny men." Oliver argued.

"I'm not..." Jason uttered before he raised his head to look at Oliver, who stared at him through the mirror with one of his golden eyebrows lifted. They both broke into laughter.

"All I'm saying is...you have to cut her some slack. She's just protecting Sophia." Oliver stated, pausing. "Not that she needs any protection." He whispered, chuckling to himself. "If you want in on this family, you'll have to work harder than just being your pretty boy self." Oliver counseled.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Jason muttered.

"Get on Aunt Chi's good side, silly. Charm her." Oliver advised. Jason paused, his chin slightly dropped as he ruminated.

"Damn, dude. You're good." Jason said, standing up and squeezing the last drops of piss into the toilet. He walked behind the blonde and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks, Ollie. You're the best." Jason whispered before jumping inside the shower.

Oliver smiled. Jason had a lot of things he found annoying, some even offensive, but he knew that deep down, under all that bravado, Jason was a softy. A good-hearted boy who just wanted to be loved and accepted. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was crazy about Sophie and would do anything to make her happy.

They got dressed and headed for the elevator.

"Jesus, you smell good," Jason commented as they approached the ground floor. But as his eyes lingered on Oliver, they noticed his underlying nervousness. "What's wrong?" He questioned.

"Nothing..." Oliver stuttered, absolutely unsettled by how bad of a liar he was.

They walked off the elevator and rushed for the breakfast hall, a large, fancy dining room with glass windows. John always reserved the same table in a private area strategically placed on a lavish balcony facing the beach and town square.

"Good morning, you two!" Uncle Nathan greeted enthusiastically. As always, John sat at the head of the table. His eyes raised as he took a bite of his mushroom omelet.

"We're finishing up, " he said authoritatively. Jason glanced at Oliver with a concerned look as the blonde beauty halted just inches from his chair.

"We're on time." Oliver countered, his chest suddenly anxious and frustrated as he again became John's target. And it felt excruciatingly painful that John could always manage to get under his skin despite Oliver's best efforts. He sat down and reached for a delicious-looking cheese bread.

"I'll wait at the lobby," John stated, carefully taking the napkin and cleaning the corners of his mouth.

Rafaella, who sat next to John, raised her eyes and swung the most disarming look at her husband. Her opinion was the only one John seemed to mind, and he knew, by how she stared at him, that he had screwed up. He got up from his chair and walked out of the breakfast area.

There was a brief silence.

"Someone's in a good mood," Oliver muttered to the table before he raised his eyes and looked at his mother. Rafaella smiled at him as she rose from her chair.

"Buongiorno, amore," she whispered, leaning into Oliver's ear. Her fingers dipped inside her son's blonde hair, prompting the boy to smile. His mother's sweet voice was the only thing that seemed to quell his youthful arrogance. And Oliver knew, despite her love for John, that she would always have his back.

"Dude, did you have to do that?" Jason whispered as he sat next to Oliver, immediately stuffing an entire slice of bread inside his mouth.

Nathan's gaze was locked on Oliver, who had a devilishly playful smirk that amused his uncle. Chiara got up and followed Rafaella to the lobby. Sophia's eyes followed her mother, and as soon as she disappeared behind the doorway, she leaped from her seat and took the empty chair between Oliver and Jason.

"Do you think he's coming?" She asked anxiously.

"Who?" Jason questioned, visibly intrigued.

"Shut up, Jason," Sophia fired, her attention wholly wrapped around Oliver.

"I don't know," Oliver replied. His blue eyes seemed lost in thought, brightened by expectancy.

"What are you talking about?" Nathan questioned from the other side of the table. He had been carefully listening to their exchange.

"Oliver invited a local boy to join us on the boat," Sophia immediately answered. Oliver's eyes turned to his cousin with shock and surprise. "Might as well tell him. You'll need all the help you can get once your Dad finds out," she quickly reasoned.

"What boy, Oliver?" Nathan insisted, his tone shifting slightly.

"The one who pulled me out of the water yesterday." Oliver cautiously revealed, his blue eyes studying his uncle's reaction.

"I see..." Nathan replied cryptically. "What's his name?" he questioned.

"Nikolaos...Niko..." Oliver stuttered. The mere mention of his name sent a jolt of electricity down his body, his cock twitching slightly inside his shorts.

Nathan pulled back, leaning against his chair, eyes scanning his nephew, who trembled inwardly.

"I should very much like to meet this local hero," Nathan stated, slapping his hand on the table before getting up. "I need a smoke," he added.

"Uncle Nate...what about Dad?" Oliver stammered. Nathan paused, his hand already sliding inside his pocket to grab the pack of smokes. "Don't worry about that. Just enjoy your day," he said, winking discretely before leaving.

Oliver beamed, his heart suddenly filled with hope. As he turned to Sophia, she smiled. She knew her father's love for Oliver and how to use it in dire situations. They rushed their food down their throats and ran for the hotel's foyer, where the adults were already waiting beside an eight-seater transfer bus, ready to take them to the dockyard.

The road to the Santa Maria pier was torturous and felt endless as Oliver tried desperately to manage his nerves. Unsuccessfully.

"Calm down. You're making me nervous, too," Sophia whispered, grabbing Oliver's hand.

He brushed her away, feeling fidgety and unsettled. The blonde leaned his head against the glass, eyes looking out at the stunning sea as it grew bigger and brighter, now coated with the vibrancy of that warm morning sun. In the front of the car, Nathan chatted, spouting another one of his silly stories, which always amused everyone, garnering giggles and laughter. John sat beside Rafaella, and Oliver could see his father's hand behind her neck, fingers gently brushing her soft skin as he glanced at them. It had always intrigued him how someone as cold as John could show such care and commitment to someone, especially in public. But his unspoken affection for Rafaella was something to admire—perhaps one of the few things Oliver respected about his father.

"Finally!" Jason hollered as the small bus came to a stop. He slid the door open, allowing the first fresh, salty sea fragrance to sweep inside the vehicle and brush Oliver's face. He closed his eyes, and all his senses suddenly roused.

"C'mon, Ollie!" Jason called, already rushing for the pier, where a gigantic, luxurious 33-foot-long yacht waited with a small crew of three men wearing dark blue polos.

Oliver ducked his head and slid out of the van, popping his sunglasses on as his sensitive eyes shriveled under the scorching sun. John was going down the steps into the large boat, carefully escorting Rafaella. Chiara and Nathan followed closely behind, laughing complicitly as usual.

"Dude, it's huge! Like my dick!" Jason teased playfully. Noticing Chiara was distracted, he took the opportunity to sneak behind Sophia and tease his cock between her ass cheeks. She inadvertently giggled before turning around and punching his chest, pushing him away from her.

"Thank you. Have a nice day," Oliver politely said, smiling at the van driver. The man smiled back, grateful for the boy's gesture, and jumped inside, driving off.

Oliver stood there, gazing at the car moving away, allowing him a clear view of the road leading down to the dock. It was painfully empty, and Niko was nowhere to be found. Oliver glanced at his Casio, marking 8:58 am, eyes lingering on the numbers. Maybe he wasn't coming after all, he thought. And why would he? Niko had a life on that island, a family, a girlfriend, and a job. Why would he even bother with a silly, rich kid?

"Fuck..." Oliver muttered as the watch finally hit 9 am.

He turned to face the boat, watching everyone's excitement as they moved around the bottom tier. Nathan was already seated on one of the comfortable sofas on the bridge deck, holding a scotch whisky in one hand and a cigar in the other. Chiara sat on his lap, holding her massive hat with her hands so the wind wouldn't swoop it off her head. Jason ran around the boat, excitedly exploring every nook and cranny while Sophia chased him, rolling her eyes, trying to get him to sit down. John spoke with the crew, probably drilling them senseless on all the activities and schedules as if he were running his business back home.

But Rafaella stood at the boat's bow, silently observing Oliver from a distance, clearly sensing his anguish. He reluctantly walked down to the yacht, ready to throw in his towel, when his mother's voice broke through the air.

"Oliver, Tesoro!" she yelled, her hand in the air, pointing up the driveway.

Oliver's body turned slowly, a gradual spark igniting inside his beautiful blue eyes. Niko was mounted on a beaten-down scooter, driving down the road to the dock. He wore a helmet, a black, ripped-sleeveless t-shirt, swim shorts, and old flip-flops. Oliver's entire body beamed, and his soul suddenly brightened. There it was, that feeling again. What was it, he thought? That sense of wonderment, peril, and adventure seemed to rush through him like a storm wind. He was so absorbed in his thoughts, his eyes enamored by the image of Niko driving his motorcycle down the cramped road that he didn't even acknowledge when the stud finally stopped inches from him. Niko pulled the helmet off his head, his raven curls bouncing into the most flawless position.

"Hey," He greeted in his deep voice.

"Hi," Oliver replied, his eyes fluttering slowly.

There was silence. It was long.

"You said boat," Niko stated.

"What?" Oliver stuttered.

"You said we were going on your Dad's boat," Niko said, his beautiful eyes peeking over Oliver's shoulder.

"Right," the blonde boy agreed as he glanced back.

"That's not a boat. That's a yacht." Niko teased, forcing Oliver to lock eyes on him again. Niko was smiling.

"Thank you for coming," Oliver exclaimed. "I mean...I'm happy you came!" He corrected awkwardly.

"You don't seem happy...you seem nervous," Niko taunted, his lips slightly stretched as he tried to conceal the sexiest grin.

Oliver buckled, eyes closing briefly. What was he doing? Why did he turn into a mumbling idiot every time he was around Nikolaos? Why was it impossible for him to just be himself? And why the fuck did he feel naked every time Niko looked at him?

"Hi!" Sophia's voice greeted from behind him.

"Hello," Niko replied, smiling. Oliver opened his eyes, a small explosion of warmth in his groin.

"Don't mind him," Sophia playfully said as she pointed her head at her cousin. "He'll start acting normal again in a few minutes," she teased, pulling Niko's arm and dragging the stud to the stairs near the stern. Oliver pursued them, his body revolving slowly as his gaze locked on Niko's broad, brawny back and beautiful ass moving in front of him. Soon, he was following the two inside. Sophia was already engaged in introducing Nikolaos to everyone inside. "My uncle John and auntie Rafaella, Ollie's parents. And that's my boyfriend Jason..." she stated.

"Hey," Jason casually greeted, bobbing his head, trying to appear cool and blase.

"And these are my parents, Chiara and Nathan." She introduced, pointing her right arm at them.

"So, this mysterious young man saved Ollie's life?" Nathan stated, taking the cigar to his mouth. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say you should have let him drown," he jested.

"Stai zitto idiota!" Chiara reacted, slapping Nathan's arm as she jumped from his lap, caging her giggles. She walked over to Oliver and wrapped her arm around him, her eyes still on Niko's alluring figure. "It's nice to meet you, Niko," she greeted.

Then, out of nowhere, John's voice broke from inside as he strolled towards the bridge deck.

"What's Niko short for?" he asked, his usual dominant nature steering his speech.

"Nikolaos. But everyone calls him Niko," Oliver mumbled from under Chiara's arm. You could feel the tension building as John slowly sauntered over.

"Well, nice to meet you, Nikolaos," John sounded, staring down at Niko as if he were an insect that needed to be stifled immediately. But Rafaella emerged from behind him, her see-through silk white poncho and blonde hair floating with the sea breeze. She hugged Niko with the most disarming tenderness, causing everyone to gasp silently.

"Thank you, Niko. For saving my most precious treasure," she whispered into the stud's ear. Oliver could barely hear what she had said, but he could see Niko's lips stretch into a smile. "Come with me. I must know everything about you," she stated, pulling Niko inside. "Chiara!" she called as she dragged the stud inside and up the steps into the sun deck.

"Mom!" Oliver hollered, annoyed.

"Avrai il tuo turno, darling!" Rafaella's voice replied over their heads. Chiara released her grip on Oliver's neck and followed her friend upstairs. Nathan glanced at Oliver and winked as the boy sighed, his senses still tingling by the inebriating scent that Niko had left hovering over them.

"Are we ready to leave, sir?" one of the crew asked, addressing John, who seemed peeved by the stud's presence.

"I suppose so," he mumbled, turning and walking inside towards the bar.

Suddenly, Oliver was alone again. Sophia and Jason had fled towards the bow, pulling off their clothes and stretching their towels over it. He glanced around, slightly ruffled, suddenly finding his uncle's gaze, always ready to comfort him.

"What?" Oliver questioned, frowning.

"You've got some balls, kid," he stated, watching Oliver's slips stretch outwards. "He's fucking pissed," he continued, glancing inside the boat where John stood, leaning over the bar.

"Yeah, well..." Oliver stammered, dragging his feet to the edge of the bridge, turning inside, and leaning against the railing. He looked up, staring at his mother as she spoke with Niko, who seemed very entertained by whatever she was saying. Yet, through the cracks of Rafaella and Chiara's bodies moving around him, Oliver could see Niko's emerald eyes scouring for him. The stud's gaze discretely darted Oliver's, and inside it, a coiled eagerness to finally feast on the boy's sight.

And suddenly, Oliver's heart descended into a soft, steady frequency, and he began to relax. Until there was nothing else but the sound of his mother's soft voice whispering from the upper floor and the cold sea breeze brushing the back of his head. The yacht finally began to move, slowly sailing away from the mainland and out to sea.

A few minutes passed as Oliver stood there, gazing at his family, who all seemed keen to get to know Niko. But soon, what started as an innocent feeling, an initially tamed joy brought on by the sight of his clan enjoying Nikolaos' company, morphed into a profound disgust as he watched everyone on that boat, except his father, take advantage of the time he had hoped was reserved for him. Niko was supposed to be talking to him, not them. He was the one who invited him, not them. Niko was his, not theirs.

Suddenly, unbeknownst to his usually soft and tender nature, a burning rage began to build up in his chest. A part of Oliver was changing, becoming fearless and reckless. Something inside him that was always there, silently waiting to be revealed, and that now rapidly unshackled itself from its dormant state. His fingers gripped the railing so hard that his hands reddened with fury. He felt the boat slow down to a stop, and as he raised his head, he spotted a slick stretch of sand, a small beach hidden behind the tallest, widest cliffs he had ever seen. There was virtually no time for his mind to understand what his body was already doing. He leaned back on the railing, rolled his legs over it, and jumped into the ocean. He could hear Chiara's scream as he hit the water.

"Ollie!" she screamed, her words numbing as his body broke the water's surface.

Everything went numb and eerily calm. There he was again, floating in a peaceful state. No noise, loud voices, or boat engines buzzing loudly in his ear. Just him and the peacefulness of the water. Seconds later, he felt a harsh implosion, something piercing the water line and landing behind him. He turned to find Niko shirtless, his raven hair hovering gracefully over his forehead and his solid, muscular arms careening. He wasn't doing anything. He was floating there, matching Oliver's energy. Their bodies tied by the same state. And he was smiling, his emerald eyes glimmering in the glistening water. Oliver smiled back and kicked his body towards the surface, his head breaking the water, escorting a sharp gasp. He could feel Niko floating under him.

"Sei pazzo?! Nathan, fai qualcosa!" Chiara yelled frantically and visibly infuriated.

"He's fine," Nathan replied casually, trying to cage his laughter, which seemed to enrage his wife even more.

Oliver glanced up briefly in time to catch his father's squinting eyes darting at him, hand holding a glass of scotch. Rafaella leaned into the sun deck's railing but didn't look upset. In fact, she had this strange smile on her face. As Oliver's head bowed back to the water, Niko broke the surface, swinging his soaked hair back as he grasped for air. Oliver could feel the stud's breath spew into his nostrils. Intense, harsh, like a wet rayon, twilled cloth. It was intoxicatingly potent.

"Why did you jump?" Niko asked, his chiseled face hovering over the water, his eyes smirking.

"I...was burning up," Oliver replied, his mouth diving underwater. Now, only his sultry blue eyes were visible. Niko chuckled before stroking his arms and pulling his body closer to the boy.

"You know there're sharks around here, right?" Niko stated calmly as Oliver's eyes gaped with sudden panic. He swung forward, inadvertently wrapping his arms around Niko's thick neck as his eyes darted around, terrified. And then he felt it again, that scented bombazine.

"Are you serious?" Oliver whispered, his neck stretching and darting over the water's surface.

"No. I just wanted to see your reaction," Niko toyed before Oliver finally turned to face him, their noses practically brushing.

Suddenly, everything stopped. And even Chiara's screams and Nathan's laughter became muffled by whatever was slowly layering their bodies. A strange, cluttered aura that blocked everything around them.

"You...don't have to...come running to save me every time I jump in the water..." Oliver stuttered. He could see Niko's eyes blinking in slow motion, feeling the scent of the boy's breath on him for the first time before slowly descending into his soft lips.

"Ble mou poulí..." the stud whispered, his breath coating Oliver's mouth with static electricity. He could have died right there, he thought. That's how good it felt.

But a sudden splash savagely plucked them out of their haze. A round, orange buoy floated next to them.

"Grab it. Get inside this boat right now," John ordered, his voice bottled with affected temperance.

Oliver glanced up, rolling his eyes before his gaze returned to Niko, who was still smiling. There was a brief silence before Oliver chuckled and pushed himself away, jokingly splashing water on the stud's face. He grabbed the buoy and started swimming back to the boat's ladder, with Niko following closely behind. Sophia was already squatting near the edge as he approached the ship, her mouth desperately yearning to speak.

"What the hell was that about?" she nervously questioned as her eyes darted back at John, who paced around inside, near the bar, while Rafaella tried to calm him down.

But Oliver's mind and spirit were elsewhere. They had been seized and ferried into a faraway place where nothing existed but him and Niko. So he pulled himself inside the boat and walked up the steps to the sundeck, where Chiara waited for him with a soft towel.

"It's fine, Aunt Chi," Oliver uttered, smiling at her as he walked over.

"What's gotten into you lately?" Chiara questioned, wrapping the towel around Oliver's hair, forcing his head to vigorously shake as she dried it. "You do have a way with your father," she added, leaning into him and flaring the towel, exposing the boy's face. "And between us...I think you're starting to enjoy it," she whispered, her usually tense lips extending into a devious smirk. Oliver sneered back. He was beginning to see why Uncle Nate loved her: they were the same. She just hid it better.

"I think he hates me," Oliver mumbled.

"Silly Ollie..." she whispered, prompting him to smile. It was Chiara's nickname for him ever since he was a child. "He loves you. Too much. That might be his problem, actually," she continued before stopping, her gaze shifting to Niko's alluring figure as he walked up the steps into the deck, trying, most endearingly and politely, to not interrupt their private exchange. "I can see why you'd..." she stuttered, closing her eyes to gaze at Oliver's shocked countenance. "I was a model, Ollie. I've been around," she said in a low tone.

"Does anyone else know...?" Oliver stammered, his face still concealed by the towel. He couldn't believe how casually Chiara had clocked him. "Does mom know?" he asked, his eyes welling up. Chiara smiled and nodded slowly, slightly emotional by the boy's reaction.

"You're young, Ollie. Go and be young," she advised before leaning in and kissing the boy's cheek. "Niko, the lifeguard!" she teased as she descended to the bottom floor.

They wavered in a strangely comfortable silence. Oliver eventually smiled, but this time, Niko didn't smile back. He just stood there, looking at him, his gaze piercing.

"Me and my father...it's complicated," Oliver tried to explain, immediately realizing there wasn't an ounce of judgment in the stud's countenance.

"It's okay. We don't have to talk about it," Niko stated, prompting Oliver to smile.

"Wanna chill out here for a bit?" Oliver suggested, to which Niko nodded. The blonde glanced around, looking for a spare towel. When his eyes locked back on Niko, he had pulled down his trunks, exposing the tightest white speedos underneath. Oliver swallowed dry, his groin tightening immediately. "I only have one towel," he said. But by then, Niko was already walking over to him, yanking the towel off Oliver's hands and tossing it over one of the sunbeds. "What are you...?" the blonde mumbled as he watched Niko lie on the floor, smack under the scorching sun.

"Come," he invited, stretching his hand out.

The boy kneeled on the floor and rolled over, letting his back fall beside Niko, their shoulder brushing together. He could still feel the cold water coating the stud's skin. They lay there in silence again. Finally alone. Niko took a deep breath, exhaling profoundly, letting his alluring breath fill the air with its aroma. Then, he brought his right arm up and slid it under his head, exposing his bushy armpit, which immediately released a strong, musky odor. Finally, he unfurled his beautiful green eyes. They were bewitching. Like a deep lake, you'd willingly let yourself drown in.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Oliver uttered, a sudden aftershock as the words fled his mouth. "The girl in your house last night...?" he stuttered as Niko's eyes squinted at him.

"Why do you want to know?" the stud pressed.

"I...don't..." Oliver backtracked, mortified. Niko paused before a soft chuckle broke from his lips.

"No. She's just a friend," the stud said.

"Do all your...friends sleep in your room?" Oliver stammered. He couldn't believe his gall and unexpected audacity.

"Just the ones I fuck," Niko razzed, winking. Oliver's gaze observed every movement of Niko's lips as he spoke, and he could feel his cock hardening under his shorts. So he discretely rolled over, facing his stomach down. The stud's eyes caught the boy's movement, and he smiled. Then he closed his eyes again, turned his face towards the sun, and took a deep breath.

Oliver's gaze immediately roamed, indulging in the irresistible sight of Niko's body. His blue eyes began to descend, admiring the stud's perfectly shaped lips, dipped inside his dark, bushy beard like a sheltered pond. His cinnamon-toned skin prickled as the sun rays brushed over it, and his chiseled muscles moved and slowly stretched as he breathed. His fuzzy chest and the small trail of dark brown hairs that descended along his stomach, diving inside his speedos. His flawlessly shaped, muscular ass pressed against the deck, and the thickest thighs Oliver had ever seen, coated with a layer of dark brown curly hairs. And finally, the feet. Strong, robust, manly. By now, Oliver's cock was rock hard, achingly pressing against the floor, and he could feel precum oozing from it.

Then, Niko's hips shifted slightly, prompting Oliver's eyes to shoot up, locking on the stud's pelvis. His eyes froze, bewildered by the scenery. A massive cock twitched between Niko's thighs. And even though it was squished under his shorts and pressed firmly against his abdomen, Oliver could tell it was huge. At least 10 inches of meat, pumping blood right there in front of him.

Oliver couldn't even think straight. And soon, his body seemed to gain a mind of his own as his hand moved, stretched open, towards Niko's body. What the fuck was he doing, Oliver thought? As his eyes scoured around, making sure no one was watching, his hand began to skate along the stud's chest, inches from his skin, barely touching it, descending into his groin. It would tremble slightly, brushing against Niko's fuzz, and soon hovered over the stud's massive cock, lingering there willingly. Oliver felt his chest tighten, and he exhaled, his breath shivering with ecstasy.

Niko's eyes unfurled as he did, and he turned to face Oliver, who froze, ashamed of his recklessness and somewhat creepy behavior, dreading the stud's reaction.

"I'm sorry..." Oliver whispered, his hand recoiling.

And then, it happened. He felt Niko's hand come up and clutch his, pulling it back over his cock. Then, slowly and delicately, he brought it down. Oliver could feel the stud's monster fill his soft palm, the girth and size barely contained inside it. He glanced up at Niko, whose other hand was over his mouth, signaling Oliver to keep quiet. He lingered there, smiling, before he grabbed the boy's neck and pulled him in, their lips finally locking.

Time stopped, and everything went numb. He couldn't think, see, taste, hear, or move. He could only feel Niko's lips touching his, the stud's beard brushing against his sensitive, recently shaved skin, and the 10-inch cock pulsating inside his hand. Niko's kiss wasn't forceful, quite the opposite. It felt soft, tender, patient, and devoted. As if the stud's mouth knew Oliver's lips had never been touched. He felt Niko's fingers caress the back of his neck, easing him in, and gradually, Oliver unfurled his mouth, allowing the stud's tongue to slide in finally. And once it did, that momentary murk dispersed, and everything became clear.

The taste of Niko's mouth, the smell of his body, the touch of his hand, and the overwhelming feel of the stud's tongue rolling inside his mouth. All of Oliver's senses had suddenly been heightened, feeling Niko's tongue dance inside him, the stud's mouth now greedily sucking on his, coating it with his spit and marking it as his territory. And gradually, Oliver began to moan. Lustfully, greedily, provocatively, and teasingly. Begging Niko to drag him to whatever place he felt himself fall into. The stud was forced to grip the blonde's hair and yank his head away, unlocking their mouths.

"Fuck..." Oliver gasped, his breath submerged in lust. He didn't even close his mouth, hovering there, open, his tongue out, desperate to dive back inside Niko's.

"Keep quiet," Niko advised, giggling as he darted around. He leaned in and started licking Oliver's open mouth, gliding his tongue over his lips, teasing the boy as he gripped his hair, preventing his head from reaching forward. "Your taste..." the stud groaned, letting go of Oliver's golden locks, allowing the boy to dive into him again.

Their bodies fell over each other, mouths and tongues swirling together. This time, the kiss was messy, cluttered, recklessly juvenile, and magical. Oliver could feel himself tumble further and further down into this divine new world, one he had read about in his books and hoped he would one day be able to experience. Is this what love felt like?

"Ollie, dude, you up there!?" Jason's voice suddenly called from the lower deck.

Niko and Oliver's bodies jolted from the floor, clumsily endeavoring to assume a natural stance. Oliver's legs curled up, and Niko grabbed the towel laid on the sunbed and threw it over his groin, masterfully concealing his massive boner, just as Jason's head popped out from under the deck floor.

"Dude, lunch is ready," Jason informed, pausing with his eyes squinting and darting at them. "What were you two doing?" he blatantly asked, his unfiltered, candid nature prompting Niko to chuckle.

"Nothing. We'll be right there," Oliver replied, pausing as he realized Jason wasn't budging. "Jason, get the fuck out of here," he added, slightly ruffled.

"Okay, okay...geez," Jason mumbled as he climbed back down.

"He's quite the character," Niko commented.

"He's alright," Oliver replied. He lingered there a bit, legs crossed and arms wrapped around his knees before he turned his head, gazing at Niko. He wanted to say something. Anything. But he couldn't. It was as if suddenly he had woken from a dream to which he desperately wanted to return but couldn't.

"That day...on the beach. You weren't drowning, were you?" Niko questioned. His words came galloping like a stampede, crushing Oliver's unsettled spirit.

"What...?" the boy stuttered, turning his head to face the stud.

"You could've swam up anytime. But you didn't," Niko stated.

A rush of blood went through Oliver's body, flaring in his chest. He suddenly felt broken in, overstepped, as if someone had snuck inside his room and gone through his most private belongings.

"I don't think you..." Oliver stuttered before Niko slid in again, interrupting him.

"You feel trapped. And you're terrified that you'll get used to the feeling of being caged," Niko conveyed, his voice soft yet poignant. "But there's also a part of you that's scared to be free," he continued, his every word drilling a hole inside Oliver's young, shackled soul.

"And why is that...?" He questioned defiantly. The stud looked at him and smiled.

"Because deep down, you know, under all that control... there's an intriguing, wildly insane creature struggling to get out," Niko conveyed, slowly pulling himself off the floor and climbing the stairs to the bottom deck.

Oliver sat there for what seemed like an eternity, entirely transfixed by Niko's words. This young man, who barely knew anything about him or his life, had managed to unearth his mind's deepest, most personal thoughts. Soon, that strangely invasive feeling he experienced began to fade, and an even more profound fascination with Niko started to brew inside.

He rose from the floor and followed the stud, climbing down the bridge into the main deck, where everyone waited, already seated at the large table.

"Glad you could finally grace us with your presence," John said, his elbows planted firmly over the table, fingers twined together in tension.

"Sorry, we fell asleep," Oliver lied, sitting beside his father. Niko wavered, his eyes looking around for an empty seat. He spotted Nathan, who discretely pulled back the chair next to him. He rushed over and sat down.

"Sir?" one of the crew whispered over to John as he stood next to him, holding a bottle of red wine. John nodded, and the young man poured about two fingers of the most stunning, thick, burgundy liquid into his glass. John lifted the glass against the sun, swirled it a couple of times, and chugged it, holding the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing it. He already looked heavily inebriated. He nodded again, and the waiter served everyone around the table.

"Were you born on the island, Niko?" Rafaella asked, leaning over the table.

"No, mam. Kastoria," Niko replied, pulling a slice of bread from the plate before him and biting on it. Oliver smiled, intoxicated by the stud's boor and unbothered demeanor.

"Beautiful place. We were there three years ago. Remember, John?" Nathan countered, trying to break the cold ice emanating from his brother's seat.

"No, I'm sorry to say," John answered, his off-the-bat, antagonistic energy becoming blatantly apparent. "So, Nikolaos..." he said, forcing his voice over Sophia and Jason, who seemed to be having their own side chat. They stopped, heads raised with sudden trepidation as if they had just been caught doing something illegal. "Do you go to school here?" John questioned.

"I don't, no," Niko replied, seemingly impervious to John's dominant nature.

"So you didn't go to college...?" John questioned, his tone slightly judgemental.

"No. I didn't finish high school either," Niko answered with unrestraint.

"I see," John mumbled, eyes darting at Oliver, who gazed at his mother. "Don't you think a boy your age would benefit from a well-rounded education?" he continued.

"Wasn't a choice, to be honest. I had to drop out of school to help my Nanna with her shop," Niko politely replied, shrugging his shoulders as he brushed a butter-covered knife on another slice of bread.

"That's very commendable, Niko," Nathan interjected, desperately attempting to manage what felt like an imminent chaos.

"And what did your parents think of that...choice of yours?" John asked. Seconds later, Rafaella's hand slid over the table, slowly covering John's. But his gaze was locked on Niko, like a predator ready to gobble his prey.

"I wouldn't know. They both died when I was very young," Niko revealed before the table went stone cold.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Niko," Chiara uttered. "I think it's honorable you'd choose to help your grandmother. Family comes first," she added, smiling kindly at the stud.

"I'm sure his grandmother would be just as proud if he showed a little ambition. Many people juggle work and school. I did," John stirred.

"John, that's enough," Rafaella finally voiced.

"What? I'm just talking to the boy," John replied with a nervous smile, his voice slithering away from his usual composure. "I mean, I'm sure everyone sitting at this table, enjoying the comfort of this expensive boat, eating this costly food, and drinking this pricey wine, all paid with the fruits of my ambition, is secretly grateful I chose to go to school and get an education good enough to buy all of this," John voiced, on edge. "It was either that or sit around all day reading books, fantasizing about things that matter nothing in the real world," he provoked, glancing at Oliver.

"You're embarrassing your son in front of his friend, John. And you're being disrespectful to this young man," Nathan voiced from the other end of the table. His usually accommodating tone was gone. He looked upset.

"You're one to talk. All you ever cared about was getting pissed or getting laid," John fired back.

"Bastardo," Chiara whispered, leaning back on her chair and tossing her silverware on her plate.

"Jesus Christ, here we go," Jason whispered as he sank into his chair. Sophia glanced at Oliver, his eyes trembling with rage.

"I work like a dog day in and day out, dreaming about these two fucking weeks I get every year. All I want is for us to enjoy good things. What's wrong with that? And now I'm being vilified for questioning my son's decision to bring a stranger...a local punk inside my boat?" John yelled, visibly distraught and highly intoxicated.

"It's a yacht," Oliver uttered.

"Shut up!" John fired back, pointing his finger at Oliver in a threatening way. Rafaella's hand slowly pulled away. "What's wrong with wanting good things? What's wrong with having money?" he persisted.

Silence took hold, and for a brief instant, nothing was said. That is until Niko's voice broke through the stillness.

"I don't think anyone in the world wouldn't want to have money, Mr. Preston. I would want to have as much of it as I needed," Niko agreed. As he spoke, one of the servers walking behind him stopped, offering him some wine. The stud raised his hand, declining the offer. "But not enough to forsake who I am for it," he added. You could feel the energy in the room shifting, all eyes now on Niko. And despite John's harsh behavior and cruel words towards him, the stud's voice remained sober, respectful, and even gentle. "I can't help but feel sorry for anyone who thinks having money means they will ever be rich. There is no wealth in money," he stated. "The only currency worth keeping in this life is love. And memories," Niko declared. By now, even the crew had stopped, spellbound by the honesty of the young man's words. "A memory of a mother's voice, a true friend's embrace...a father's reassuring presence...a lover's passionate kiss," he uttered as his eyes wandered over to Oliver, whose vibrant blue gaze glistened. "A word to lift your spirit when riding high or a soft touch to warm your heart when feeling low. Allowing your heart to chase passion...desire...freedom...? That's wealth," Niko spoke to the table before confidently leaning over it, purposely locking eyes with John, whose arrogance had been gradually and effortlessly dismantled. "I may be poor, Mr. Preston, but I'm probably the wealthiest person sitting at this table," the stud concluded.

You could hear a pin drop as everyone at the table sat silently. What else was there to say?

"I think you might be right, Niko," Rafaella's precious voice uttered. "Excuse me," she whispered, standing up. She motioned to move away, and Johns's arm came up, grabbing her wrist. But she brushed him away, walked inside the boat, and disappeared into her chamber.

"I should..." John stuttered, begrudgingly standing up and following his wife inside.

Suffice it to say the mood inside the luxurious yacht never really recovered, and the initial sunny disposition and somewhat promising morning turned into a cloudy and gloomy afternoon, forcing the crew to sail back to the dock. Oliver was heartbroken and ashamed, and even though his heart compelled him to find a moment to apologize to Niko, he couldn't bring himself to do it. It didn't help that Niko secluded himself, sitting on the boat's bow, his legs dangling over the edge, his beautiful green eyes lost in the sea's calmness. Eventually, they reached the dock, and everyone fled inside the transfer bus, waiting as Oliver escorted Niko to his scooter.

"I'm...sorry I dragged you into this," Oliver finally apologized as Niko squatted down, unlocking the chain around his motorcycle's wheel. The stud finally faced Oliver, and despite the tragic outcome of what the boy thought would have been a magical day for both, Niko didn't appear phased.

"Why did you ask me to come?" he asked, his eyes drilling inside Oliver.

"I just..." the blonde stuttered. "I don't..." he whispered, unable to convey the truth. Accepting his inability to do so, he also acknowledged the shift happening inside Niko's eyes. The stud already knew what Oliver was now realizing: he wasn't ready to leave his cage.

"It was nice meeting you, Oliver," Niko said. He smiled, turned around, and drove off.

Oliver stood there, frozen, watching the object of his desire disappear in the distance. And he didn't utter another word, not during the trip back to the hotel, not even in his room, despite Jason's attempts to cheer him up. He sat in his bed with a restless spirit, his heart racing with anxiety. He knew only one person in his life could tap into whatever was troubling him and make it better. He rolled off the bed, slid his white All-Stars on, and rushed out, taking the elevator to the penthouse where his parents were. He knocked on the door, his foot tapping on the carpeted floor impatiently. About thirty seconds later, Rafaella came to the door.

"Is he there?" the boy asked.

"He just got in the shower," Rafaella said, nudging her head and signaling her son to sneak inside. She looked tired and depleted as she dragged herself into the bed, gliding inside and covering her legs with a comfy blanket.

"You look exhausted..." Oliver noted as he paced in front of her, along the foot of the bed. He could hear the shower running in the back.

"I've just been under the weather, darling. Don't worry," she explained before pausing. Her eyes followed her son's nervous pace, her heart beating with his. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted today to feel special," she stated.

"Well...it was definitely special," Oliver replied sarcastically. He kept moving back and forth.

"Ollie, darling, you're making me dizzy. Come here," Rafaella called, tapping her hand on the bed. Oliver, who was now biting his nails, stopped, rolled his eyes, and begrudgingly walked over to his mother. He dropped his body on the mattress and tumbled his head into her bosom.

"I wanna kill him," the boy muttered.

"I know. Me too," Rafaella conceded before pulling Oliver away, holding his face in her hands. She lingered there, gazing at her beautiful son before offering him her motherly smile. "I see so much of myself in you. È spaventoso, in realtà..." she added.

"Mom..." the boy wavered.

But Oliver, as all youth does, underestimated Rafaella's love for him. Her bond with him was more profound than anything he could imagine. It transcended blood, skin, or bone. His soul was carved in her emotions. She knew everything he felt, even before he did.

"Lo so. Va tutto bene, Tesoro mio," Rafaella whispered, her eyes glistening with emotion. Oliver exhaled with relief. She knew, and she accepted. Inside her eyes, he found nothing but unconditional love. "Ollie, you need to start listening to your heart," she urged.

"I don't know how?" Oliver stammered, questioning himself.

"Yes, you do. He's always whispering to us, so... close your eyes and listen. I did," she conveyed.

"And was it worth it?" the boy asked. Rafaella leaned back on her pillow and smiled.

"Oh, my darling, it was," she stated. At that moment, Oliver realized, beyond any doubt, that to Rafaella, he was the result of her heart's whisper.

He smiled, pulling back and ambling to the balcony. He leaned over the railing, his blue eyes scanning the hotel's driveway. What his mother said had punctured something, and now his heart was beating at a slightly different gait, a rhythm Oliver had never felt before.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it coming up the driveway. Niko's scooter. It couldn't be, could it? His heart dashed, and he waited precipitously for the stud to pull off his helmet before Oliver finally turned.

"He's here!" He clamored, his voice trembling slightly. Rafaella lifted her eyes from her book, scanning her son's exhilarated expression, which began to morph as they heard the shower being turned off.

"Go." She whispered, signaling the boy to run out of the room.

Oliver's eyes twinkled with emotion, and he rushed for the exit, stopping with his hand on the knob and turning to his mother.

"I love you," he professed before turning and closing the door behind him.

Oliver could hear his father's muffled voice growing inside the room as he ran through the hallway. "And you let him go!? Jesus Christ, Ella!" he hollered.

The boy reached the elevator and started smashing the button, but despair kicked in as he noticed the floor numbers weren't budging. He pulled back and glanced at the service stairs door, rushing for it and bursting it open just as John ran out of their penthouse suite. Soon, Oliver was jumping down from one flight of stairs to another, five, six steps at a time. When he reached the ground floor, his legs were quivering and quavering. He ran through the foyer and out the glass-spinning door into the street, rushing down the steps into the driveway.

"Hey..." Oliver greeted, panting profusely from sprinting down the eight floors of service stairs. "I saw you pulling up," he added, pointing at his mother's balcony. Niko followed his finger, chuckling as his head kept tilting back.

Despite all the thoughts running through Oliver's mind, one in particular seemed to linger on the edge of his tongue, struggling to break free. Maybe his mother was right. Perhaps it was time he started listening to his heart. And just like that, for the first time in his life, Oliver did.

"I like you, Niko...and I can't stop thinking about you," he finally confessed.

"Ble mou poulí..." Niko whispered back, smiling.

Oliver stood there gazing at him, entranced by Niko's presence. This mysterious young man of viscerally untamed beauty, so raw and alluringly vulnerable, and of whom Oliver knew so little, was there, offering him the adventure he so desperately longed for.
And how badly Oliver wanted it.
How he yearned for it.

But just as he was about to step forward, John's voice broke from the hotel lobby's entrance behind them.

"Oliver?" John called. But the boy didn't look back, contrary to what his tamed nature would have compelled him to do in the past. He just couldn't anymore. "Oliver, don't you dare..." John warned, cautiously walking down the steps, fearing any sudden move would tip the already unstable scale and scare his son off.

"For what it's worth, I agree with everything you said earlier," Oliver conveyed.

"Prove it," Niko challenged, extending his arm and smiling. In his hand, he held a spare helmet.

As he stared at Niko's hand, Oliver could feel the last shred of fear leave his body, endowing his soul with the boldness to embrace the unknown. He grabbed the helmet, leaped into the back of the scooter, and put it on.

"Oliver, God dammit!" John desperately hollered as he ran down the driveway. But it was too late. By now, as far as his son was concerned, his screams were faint, muffled whispers in the distance—worthless ramblings of a man stuck to his old ways.

Niko's hands came around the back and grabbed Oliver's arms, bringing them forward and wrapping them around his waist. Oliver could feel the stud's every muscle and the softness of the tanned skin that layered them push through his sheer shirt. He let his whole body tumble on Niko's broad back before he felt the scooter thrust forward, finally driving off into the night. As the motorcycle pulled away, leaving behind everything he knew, Oliver couldn't help but beam with unbridled joy and arbitrary longing.

It was, by far, the wildest thing he had ever done, Oliver thought. Oh, but how alive he felt.

How incredibly alive.

(To be continued...)