What Lies Underneath

A pleasant musky scent swarming around the bathroom was from the body soap, evaporating among the steamy air. The enticing smell enhanced the senses of a strong passion as it was being inhaled, seducing the nose.

With a moderate portion of hesitation, I placed my trembling hands on Marvel's cheeks, soft to the touch like foam. As I held his face, I leaned in and tiptoed, lifting my face to meet his lips and gently kiss him. Surely enough, he didn't let the moment slip.

Marvel slanted toward me as close as two people could be, his intimidating feature pinning me against the glass wall. He moved my arms, leading them to linger around his neck so our bodies were engaged in a tighter embrace, filling every curve.

The quiet night that neither the stars nor the moon was peeking, inside the damp bathroom I was latching on Marvel, drowning in his deep kiss. As his lips pressed against mine, the back of my head scratched against the wall, but I didn't mind at all.

At this point, the only thing I minded was my mind that no longer functioned properly.

Every provocation had brought me to the edge of my limit. I opened my eyes for a distraction, watching Marvel's face; a simple activity but always required lifting my head. At this distance, I could tell how he was so tall, and all this time, merely from the touch and the way he held me, I bet his body must be strong and sturdy. I was true.

But, it's not just that.

After being shown his true color, not only that I imagined the pain in the whole lengthy process, but I found myself searching for the meaning behind it. It felt as if what I saw on him all this time was just his outer layer.

Some people see the Mafia as a necessary evil. Other people see them as just "they should disappear".

They grow from the underground movement and are involved in criminal activities; not everything, since there are activities they really go against, and they always have their reasons for doing things a certain way or not doing things a certain way.

But, judging the Mafia isn't as black and white as it might seem. Rather, grey; the murky area where they do good things, and at the same time engage in bad things.

The tattoos are crucial to the Mafia. They can cover almost the entire body, but they're not used as markers to signify someone is part of a gang, instead, it's a "very personal depiction" of a scene from the Mafia member's life, or something symbolically important to them, which is meant to show people the attributes that person is known for.

Certain tattoo designs have developed a recognized coded meaning. The code systems can be quite complex, and because of the nature of what they encode, the designs are not widely recognized by outsiders.

In the past, the Mafia members used to meet in communal bathhouses, mainly because the lack of clothing means rival gangs meeting each other can figure out who they are dealing with by the artwork on their bodies. The other reason; the most important one, meeting up in such a place is for nobody has a concealed weapon, because everyone is all naked.

I flinched, surprised by my own thoughts. I grasped my focus back and the recalled display was still so clear. An uncomfortable sensation began to creep in and I realized something.

Is this Marvel trying to tell me who he really is, and who exactly I'm facing right now?

I was feeling insecure about what happened in the last thirty days, but my regret invited me to view the past events through different perspectives than the ones I had at the time in that actual moment, hoping for the reality to change itself.

I should have gained greater perception to take a step back and see the wider angle. There was a lot more to see, little wonder I couldn't figure things out earlier.

Because people see things from different perspectives, their narratives of the same event are also different.

I'm not sure about Marvel, but the way I see him right now...

Shining upon the man in front of me was the bathroom lamp, adequately bright to the touch. As if captivated, I watched the sparkle from the water lying on his eyelashes, glistening under the illumination. He was still caging me, leaving no space in between the glass wall and his mouthwatering build.

His body was of hard muscles pressing against mine, the popping veins spreading through the surface of his arms. Following the arch of my back, his hands sliding from my shoulders to my ass, fondling in the most sexual way. He pulled me toward his front and the friction was unavoidable, my pants uncomfortably crowded.

When I tried to squirm away, he finally released the kiss and let me breathe, my face flushed in heat.

"Are you okay?" He checked, the concern was quite evident.

That was sweet. I wanted to play along, but realized I didn't have the time to be touched by his attention.

Right now, there is only one mission, one assignment I need to complete.

But, before all that, somehow, I felt the need to make sure of something.

"Sir, I... I had been sick, but now... I'm totally fine..."

I suggestively stole a glimpse at Marvel and before long, my cheeks turned rosy peach in the warm fog of the bathroom. I shifted my eyes away the moment he looked at me as if right through me, knowing what I meant.

I bet it might be hard for him to believe in the meaning behind what had slipped past my mouth, because it was exactly what happened to me.

Without making any facial expression, without pretending to be anything other than what he was, he rubbed my lips in that classic way villains did.

"Don't worry. I'm going to do whatever I want to you. What makes you think I'm not?"

***

Lying all over the bathroom floor were my clothes, crumpled and already wet. I was facing the wall, my hands clenching against it, ground down by Marvel who was standing behind me.

For the very first time, we were two naked bodies, no more and no less, we were the same yet different all at once. Every touch was familiar and also new, because it was our skin stroking against each other.

"Hng?!" I gasped when Marvel's hand reached my butt. I gritted my teeth figuring out his intention to shove a finger in soon. My legs started shaking and then I heard his chuckle.

"You're always so sensitive toward my touch, you can't help but anticipate it," he said, lips grazing my shoulder, almost making me shiver. "And you look like you're feeling it."

When he held my front with his other hand, the roughness of his ring striking against it making me shudder. I struggled, fighting back the urge, refusing to give up just yet, although in the end, I nearly met my limit.

Just the notion of our bodies being locked together, just the whisper of my imagination, and I was incapacitated. There were no thoughts, no focus, only desire, and the pain of waiting. Our breaths weaved together and I showed my deepest truth; the part of me that is hidden to others, the connection that is as poignant as my lie.

I jerked backward and clenched against Marvel behind me, my body suddenly feeling weaker. The thick, white fluid on the glass wall slowly dripping in front of my feet. He hugged me from the back before I slumped to the floor as my knees almost gave up.

"It feels that good, huh," he teased, satisfied with what he saw.

The warm breath slithering behind my ear and I knew where he was aiming at. Just faintly, I could see his reflection on the glass wall gazing at my flushed ears from my back, his mien triumphant.

"I didn't touch you for a month and you already became this vulnerable. Are you that desperate for sex?"

Marvel caught my stare and I flinched in the realization, immediately fleeing away.

"D-don't be cruel... You too... like it as much as I do, right? The sex... w-with me..."

"Though you're speaking almost casually to me right now, what's with the stuttering?"

My reply was suspended by the absence of sound. I could tell that my eyes were still being followed until the chance to meet with Marvel again would eventually come, so I tried to avoid it as best as I could, only to surrender the next minute when I decided to provoke him.

"S-Sir, I... I want it..." I murmured, my head slightly turning to the man behind me, his demeanor already dangerous.

"I know," he shortly responded, seeming unwilling to reveal his enthusiasm just yet.

"I mean... Now..." I dragged my vision to my front again, parting away from him whose atmosphere was slowly growing heavier.

"Unlike before, you don't seem hesitant. But, why are you in such a hurry? Is there something you want to make sure of?" He asked and my inside snapped toward the failure to see it coming. "Like, is it you, or the sex with you that I actually like, do you want to make sure which one is true?"

To Marvel's ever-changing demeanor, I stood frozen, swallowing my guts after unexpectedly being exposed. His hand slid up from my chest to my chin, then with his fingers, he lifted my head, and our gazes engaged once more.

"It... doesn't matter to me..." I lied, trying to trim the link away, but he wasn't going to let me go that easily.

"Why?"

"Because... in the end, I will do whatever you want..."

"What if I said I'd give you whatever you want this time? Would you want me, or would you just want to have sex with me?" He rubbed my lips, demanding a response. "Or, would you want something else from me?"

First, it was his questions. Then, it was my inability to react to the situation. In the lack of competence, my mind was restrained from composing all thoughts, let alone words, so I just waited until the time decided to leave past my adversity.

"I'll spare you for now," Marvel concurred with the time, putting his faculty aside. "But, you'll have to give me the answer one day, Asta."

Not wasting more seconds, he pressed my back with his front and my feet secured their grip on the floor, anxious as if it was our first time. My heart began to pound faster, yet he still acted rather calm, making me experience a hard time.

When he started it, I couldn't believe he sacrificed his fingers only to get bitten by me while I was enduring the pain to take him all in, then my mouth was squelched, not given the permission to shut. My breath was restrained in my throat. He wanted it louder, the messier the better. Even if I had tried to moan as low as I could, it didn't work inside this narrow place.

The fog swarming around us wasn't from the warm shower, but our steamy breaths, causing this small room sultry. The repetitive thrusts made my head white, my legs were numb as I knew they would. I tried to grasp my composure, simply because Marvel's strong endurance served myself pathetic.

I had tried not to lose it, so I wonder why things didn't go according to my wish when I was held by this man.