Work Text:
Oliver checked his belonging once again before closing the lid of his luggage. He was looking forward to his vacation. Six glorious weeks under the sun in Italy. He had booked his room at a 17th century Villa in Lombardy. He looked at his apartment one last time before closing the door. This has been his place where he stayed not a home just a place where he stayed. He didn’t feel any particular attachment towards his apartment. So it’s positive to say he didn’t feel any loss when he closed the door.
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Oliver got off the train and recalled Mr. Perlman’s instruction. He had insisted on picking Oliver up from the station to which he had cordially accepted. Mr. Perlman was the first to notice him, a middle aged man with graying hair and beard with bright smile was edging closer to him.
“Oliver I presume?” the man’s smile was still in place.
“I am. Mr. Perlman?”
“Yes indeed.” He said as he extended his hand towards Oliver. The men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. He followed the older man out of the station and into his car. As they talked to his surprise he learned Mr. Perlman being a professor of archeology as Oliver himself was a graduate student o the same subject. They instantly connected. The road to Perlman’s villa was gorgeous. He was eager to explore. Maybe he can find someone to show him around.
Before long they were at the villa. It was beautiful, he could see why anyone would want to live here. The villa’s stairs went upstairs to another floor. There were beautiful sculptures all over the place. Oliver followed Mr. Perlman to a sitting room or might be a library.
“This was used as the parlor but we didn’t even notice when this became the library.” He showed Oliver to a couch.
“I can see, home of an academic after all.” Oliver looked around the room. He could see books with of different languages, different cultures. He wondered how many language the professor knew. He was soon introduced to Annella, Professor’s wife. They had a seventeen year old son named Elio whom was out at the moment.
Oliver was tired and he wanted to rest. “I will show you to your room.” Mr. Perlman was already one step ahead of him. “A little. Yes.” Oliver chuckled. “Well, follow me then.” Oliver followed the man to upstairs to a room that would be his for the remaining six weeks. The bed was made, the window was open blowing air inside the room. He liked it.
“The bathroom is this way. You would have to share it Elio. And his room is down that way.” Mr. Perlman pointed his hand in general direction. “Take rest. Let me know if you need anything. And please join us for Dinner.” Oliver agreed as he closed the door behind the man he admired the room his room for awhile before succumbing to freshening up and fell on the bed.
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The next time Oliver’s eyes open it was dark outside. He fumbled for his watch. It was past midnight. He probably missed dinner. He was hungry but he was more tired. So he was again asleep.
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Oliver woke up early and joined the Perlman’s for breakfast, apologizing for missing dinner. He was greeted with array of breakfast. Oliver was done with his breakfast when he saw the Perlman’s son.
“Oliver. I don’t believe you have met my son.” Oliver looked to where Mr. Perlman focus was. And he could not look away. The boy was simply put, beautiful. He was so pale, his hair wet wearing a shirt two sizes too big for him and a pair of shorts. Oliver stretched his hand out first. The boy smiled bright and beautiful as he took his hand. In spite how thin he was he had a firm grip.
“Elio.” The boy said. “Oliver.”
Oliver tried to keep up the discussion about looking around the place and not stare at Elio putting food in his mouth. “I can show you.” Elio said between bites of a piece of peach, the juices had dribbled down to his chin. His hand was wiping it away and tongue chasing the remains around his lips. Oh! Oliver could only master the thought. The boy’s movement of his tongue had left Oliver quite speechless.
“Oliver.” The boy looked at him. It took Oliver another moment to realize he was waiting for his response.
“Yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you Elio.” Even his name was sensual. Oliver looked away reminding himself to stay good.
---
Oliver was dressed in a loose shirt and a pair of shorts when he heard the knock at the bathroom door. Elio was standing in the doorway. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Great.” he gave Oliver a bright smile before he was off to the stairs. Oliver followed. Elio’s hair had dried, his curls bounced as he skipped two stairs at once.
They walked around the villa as Elio explained what else there were to see. Elio talked about poems and books surprising Oliver with the depth of his knowledge.
“What do you do for fun exactly?” Oliver asked.
“I read. I have read many many many book.” Elio chuckles leading them under a tree.
“I am surprised.”
“Why?” Elio looks at him with curiosity. His eyes were like kaleidoscope. Oliver hadn’t noticed this before.
“Usually seventeen year olds aren’t really interested in books.”
“What exactly are seventeen year olds are interested in then?” Elio stared at mouth with an unmistakable hunger. Oliver knew that look all too well. Oliver tried to look he was not affected by Elio’s attention.
“I haven’t been seventeen for a few years. So maybe it is books now that interest seventeen year olds these days.” Oliver was having hard time looking away from Elio biting down on his lower lip. Oliver wanted to pull down Elio’s lower lip from worrying it more with his teeth. Oliver didn’t notice but Elio was closer, much closer.
“Maybe you could show me sometime what interested you when you were seventeen.” Elio’s voice was all but a whisper and Oliver felt a fire lit at the pit of his stomach. Oh this was not happening, he cursed at Elio’s big beautiful bright smile.
Maybe it was okay to not be good. Just this once.