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Innamorato; Passionflower <3
Topic Started: Apr 10 2010, 08:22 PM (2,570 Views)
onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal heard the bathroom door open and the shift of weight as Thomas exited his room to join him out in the main area of the apartment. He didn’t move though; he’d discovered that as awkward a position he was in, he was rather comfortable. He did shift up onto his elbows on the cushions, lifting his head up too, when the brunet came up to the back of the couch. He licked his lips, preparing to say something, but forget entirely what it had been he was going to say when the Brit’s hands took hold of his feet.

It seemed like something the brunet wouldn’t do. Touching someone’s feet… Sal would have thought such a thing would be considered dirty or something to the proper British gentleman. Not that he was complaining, no sir, not at all. He mirrored the look on Thomas’ face as long fingers began tickling into the soles of his feet. His toes curled and twitched a little under the attention; he didn’t gasp and kick out and cry, but it would appear the blond was at least a little sensitive to tickling touches.

He sighed when Thomas let go and moved off, ready to go. Sal let himself drop back down on the cushions of his couch a moment longer, lingering, toes flexing a little in his socks. His feet were warm, having soaked up the heat of Thomas’ palms just in that short time the man had had a hold of them. He’d liked the attention – a different sort than he was used to. It’d been, quite frankly, an intimate touch. Sure, just on the feet, but still. Who honestly touched another person’s feet unless it was in their job description to do so? It was probably one of the most intimate touches Sal had ever experienced in such a nonsexual location or manner.

Pulling himself off the couch, shoes covered his socks and he once more locked up the apartment behind them as they left. Out on the sidewalk as Thomas stored his clothes away in his rental was when he first took in the sight of the other man. So casual, so unfamiliar, but really… it was sexy, frankly. Thomas wore relaxed well. And his shirt on the brunet… the slight V of the neck showed him more of the man’s chest than he’d ever seen so far, revealed the base of his throat. He could see the clean lines of upper arms, the short sleeves providing the sight. The shirt was a little loose on him, but that didn’t hinder in any way. Sal liked it. He really, really liked the sight of Thomas in his clothes. It did funny things in the pit of his stomach.

The walk went comfortably, in Sal’s opinion. Companionably. And it didn’t take long to arrive at the beloved, Durante family restaurant. The lights were out, the place empty behind the glass and a little sign in the door announcing that the place was closed. Sal produced his keys from his pocket at the door and opened up for them, holding the door open and letting Thomas step in ahead of him.

“I know you said you wanted to meet Jimmy and Cecelia and all,” he explained as he shut the door behind them and left it closed to the general public. “But I’m sure you know by now that I’m a greedy bastard and I like havin' my pizza lessons in private.” He smirked and flicked the lights on for them, “Plus, I’d rather just us make our own dinner right now. Don’t feel like gettin' roped into makin' a dozen other pies for other people while I’m tryin’ to pass on the art.” He winked.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas followed after the blond as they headed down the street. The city was in quite the bustle, but what city wasn't? Cars zooming past. People walking to and fro on the side walk around them. Street lights changing colors, between green, red and amber... No... yellow. Americans, so unspecific in their color naming. It was so amber.

The Brit's hands slid to the pockets of his sweats. He'd taken off his watch, and had left it in the car as well, since he didn't need dough and flower gunking it up. He didn't say much on their walk over. His eyes drifted around to soak up the place where Paul had grown up. Paul and Sal actually. Except Paul had left his childhood home to pursue a big dream. Sal on the other hand had been content to stay with what he knew, and to make due with what his father had taught him. It was still so fascinating...

The brunet stopped outside of 'Salvatore's', though a faintly confused look filled his face when he saw it was closed. He glanced to Sal then, as the other man explained himself. No meeting of the relatives today. Nor would the restaurant be open for business. At least right now...

Silently, he followed the blond inside and watched him close up the door behind him. The lights came on and he looked over the empty restaurant. He'd not exactly taken much time the first moment he'd been there. His mind had been more set on talking to Sal than absorbing the sights of the small pizza joint.

"Fair enough," Thomas mused quietly. A private lesson on how to make pizza. He never would have guessed he'd get that when he came here. Never guessed he'd have the opportunity. Not like he'd gone out of his way to seek it either, it'd just... came to him really. The brunet soon followed Sal behind the counter, which brought a hint of a bemused smile to his face.

"Can't say I've been on the kitchen side of any restaurant before. But I guess there's a first time for everything?" he curiously walked over to the oven, and looked over the various shelves, counters, and tools.

"... You and your family didn't always live in that small apartment did you?" he asked, eyes not on Sal but still absorbing the kitchen. "... You, Paul and your parents... where did you live before then?"
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal watched Thomas take everything in, a small smile tweaking his lips and hands dropping the hanging counter back in place behind them. It was interesting for him too. Normally if he was doing the kitchen work, which he usually was, he did it on his own. He didn’t have someone else behind the counter with him when he worked. If he was there, it was just him. There was plenty of room for two or three people to move around comfortably in the space, so it wasn’t like it was crowded – it was just how it’d always been. It’d been the same with his pop growing up; some kind of unspoken rule that the chef was the only one allowed back there while he worked.

While Thomas looked around the ovens and supplies and shelving, Sal pulled out some things they’d need. He dropped some dough on the rolling counter and shook his head at the question asked, “Naw. We grew up mostly in Brooklyn, the Bensonhurst area. Kinda a shitty little apartment. Pretty much all them were though, all brick and chipped paint. There was this barber shop right next door, I remember; Paul and me used to sweep the floors for the guy that owned it when we were kids. Made ourselves a couple dollars here and there, you know.”

Sal wore a little smirking smile on his face as he shared with the brunet, leaning against the counter while he talked. “Pop opened up this place just after he and Ma came over. Bensonhurst is “Little Italy” so there were already lots of pizza joints around. Lots of Wiseguy mobsters too, more wannabes than the real things, but they were there. He came out here with it because there wasn’t anyone flipping dough yet, but it’s a ways from Brooklyn so he wasn’t home too often.” Sal straightened and reached around Thomas to click the ovens on, letting them heat up some. “Ma hated it. The whole thing; the pizza, the apartment, the area… she split when we were six, so Paul and me ended up home alone a lot out there while Pop was here. Old man finally moved us all out this way when we were sixteen. We lived with our Ma’s brother, uncle Jimmy, and Cecelia until Paul and me were eighteen. That’s when I got the apartment. Pop stuck with Jimmy and Cecelia ‘till he died, and Paul jumped from high school straight to college.”

He huffed a little laugh through his nose, “So no. It’s only ever been me in that apartment; Paul would stay with me between semesters until he went out to Maryland for Hopkins. But mostly it’s just my place.”

Sighing, Sal allowed himself a few more moments to think about childhood and all that. Recalling little things. Nostalgic, like most people get when thinking about the past. Before long though, he clapped his hands together and flashed a wide grin at Thomas, rubbing his palms together. “But anyway. Pizza. Lets figure out the tops before we start on the dough. Whatdya like on yours, Tommy-gun?” He smirked.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas stopped his visual exploration to turn his attention to Sal. He gave a nod or two as he listened to some of the history of where the two twins had grown up. How their mother left at a young age. His brows furrowed a little. "... no mom huh? ... That's tough," he murmured quietly. But it seemed his father had made a smart business decision, setting up outside of the Little Italy. Less competition out here. Even if it had kind of botched his marriage.

And besides their mother being gone, their father had kicked the bucket. And now his brother had followed suit. Left Sal with only his uncle and cousin as any family in the area. Thomas drew in a sharp breath. He felt a bit asinine right then, considering he'd left his folks back in England. His sister too. Taking the fact they'd still be there in a year or two for granted. Maybe he'd book a trip to England... after he finished up his soul searching here in New York.

As the topic changed from the blond's childhood back to pizza making, Thomas noticed the change in attitude of Sal. It caused his own mouth to curl up a tad. "... You really love what you do, don't you?" he asked. He looked to the dough, sitting there waiting for them on the counter, then his eyes went back to Sal as he gave him the peculiar nickname.

"... Tommy-gun?" he quirked a brow. "Do I really look like a Tommy anything to you?" he shook his head. Maybe that part of his childhood had been neglected. Never had a nickname. Though he wasn't exactly opposed to one. It just felt odd, like trying to get used to a new pair of shoes.

"If you got it... Chicken, onions, black olives and mushrooms" he gave a nod. "You're probably going to think it's a blasphemy, but I never became all that in love with pepperoni," he chuckled softly. Not just the flavor but it was pretty unhealthy compared to other meats he could get on his pizza.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Did he love what he did? Sal just shrugged in answer, eyes flicking to counter for a moment. It was pretty obvious though, that yes, he loved what he did. He always had loved this place and the whole art and process of rolling out a pie. The rare days his Pop would cart him and Paul out to the restaurant when they were young, he’d lived for those days. He’d sit or stand at the counter and watch his dad work, thrilled and entertained for hours. And once he’d gotten older and the old man finally brought him around into the kitchen with the dough and the ovens and taught him how it was done… Sal was more than certain it’d been the happiest day of his life. It was certainly up there, that was for sure – right up there with finding out the place had been left to him in Salvatore Durante Sr.’s will.

He laughed out loud when Thomas arched a look at him over the spur of the moment play on the Brit’s name. He shrugged, “Maybe not, no. But everybody’s got to have themselves a nickname. So, Tom, Tommy, Tomtom… take your pick, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m bound to do it for you if you don’t.” He winked again, nudging the brunet playfully in the side with an elbow.

Sal pulled out the tub he kept his sauces in from a nearby mini cooler, as well as mozzarella cheese. He listened to Thomas rattle off desired toppings as he did, looking up with a pleased grin towards the end. Not a fan of pepperoni. Well, that was certainly a first for him, but definitely not a disappointment.

“Are you kiddin’? That’s not blasphemy, it’s a breath of fresh air.” He chuckled, “I toss pepperoni around all day long. It’s a default top and most everybody gets it, either alone or as the base for everythin’ else. It’s mundane, real boring.”

Pulling out the toppings Thomas had specified with a wide grin, Sal sincerely assured, “Even if I didn’t have it, I’d run to the grocer and buy you a chicken myself just for dissin’ the damn pepperoni.”
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas folded his arms across his chest as Sal informed him that he was likely to pick a nickname for him, if he himself didn't pick one. Heh... Tom, Tommy... Tomtom? ... And there was that sweetheart again. "I suppose I'd go with Tom, if you insist," he mused softly. The least childish sounding of the three. Still faintly professional.

He watched as Sal went about grabbing out the sauce and cheese from the fridge. Out of continuous curiosity he went to them, and looked those two ingredients over. They looked fresh, and of a high quality, which made sense. This wasn't Domino's or Pizza Hut. His eyes went back to Sal.

He quirked a brow as the blond informed him it was a breath of fresh air to hear he actually didn't like pepperoni. A chuckle actually escaped him. "I never would have guessed. But I suppose if you are putting it on most of your pizzas you might find it a bit bland by now..." he agreed. A hint of a grin came to his lips as the blond insisted he'd run to the grocery store to fetch whatever ingredients he wanted, but didn't have on hand. "Well that's real thoughtful," he smirked and shook his head.

"What's your favorite to have? On your pizza?" he asked. If he found pepperoni boring, he was curious what it was then that the Italian did like on his pie.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Everything they needed out on the counters and waiting to be used, Sal started opening a few of the containers and flashed a smile while he answered. “My favorite wouldn’t much count as a pizza to most people. They’d think it was too bland. Remember how I said our Pop was from Naples? Well, at work he made whatever paying people wanted, but at home he only made pizza like they did in Naples. The traditional stuff, like how’d it been done since forever. Just good wheat dough, tomato, mozzarella, garlic and oregano.” He nodded, “That’s my favorite.”

He looked up at Thomas then and took the container with the cheese in it, coming in close to show the brunet. “Now that secret I told you about, with our pizza here… this is it.” He dipped his hand in and pulled out a disc of white, moist mozzarella. “Real mozzarella. Not the dried, shredded crap lots of people use ‘cause it’s easier and cheaper or whatever. It’s a rule, and my Pop would come back from the grave to beat the hell out of me if I ever even thought of using anything less than this right here on a pizza.”

“The sauce too,” Sal nodded as he sat the cheese down and pointed at the thick red tomato sauce. “It’s special. Right from Italy, passed from my Pop’s great grandfather or something. And it’s all fresh. Everything’s fresh. It’s gotta be, nothing will taste right if it’s not.”

Tugging over a pack of flour, Sal covered his hands in it and then took a hold of one of Thomas’ and guided him into doing the same thing. “So, I’m gonna assume you’ve never handled dough before. Right?” He was smiling as he pressed his hands against the dough on the rolling counter, pushing it out and swiftly forming it into the familiar circle everyone recognized as pizza. He’d been doing this so long that it was no issue at all for him, hands familiar with the moist resistance of the dough.

A smirk touched his lips as he glanced at Thomas, picking up his crust and tossing it between his hands. He stretched it out, taking a step back from the counter to flip the disc in his hands and spin it. Showing off. Shamelessly showing off at that, watching the brunet and grinning all the while.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas listened to Sal's choice of pizza. Bland, he said he'd probably think of it as. Though as he heard the blond preferred nothing but wheat dough, tomato, mozzarella, garlic and oregano on his pizza, it caused the Brit to smile. "That is very traditional," he mused quietly. And there was nothing wrong with that. "If that's what you're making then I think I'm going to have to steal a slice from your pizza when it's done," he added with a playful glint in his green eyes.

His attention was soon drawn to the cheese. Fresh, moist mozzarella. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The tomato sauce too, all fresh. Everything. He looked back to Sal. "I bet he would. His ghost would come back from the grave and haunt you," he smirked.

Eyes directed to the flour, he watched as Sal got his hands covered in it. He flinched at that. Gods... not that flour was 'dirty' technically, but the idea of purposefully dirtying his hands...

Thomas fingers curled and uncurled a few times as Sal's flour covered hand too one of his hand lead it to the flour. He took a breath, then dunked one hand in. Well that was... peculiar. He rolled some of the flour between his fingers, getting his hand plenty covered. The other soon followed. Okay... that wasn't quite so bad. As long as he didn't touch his clothes or any other part of himself anyway. He turned his gaze to the ball that Sal was already rolling out into a circle.

With his own ball, Thomas lowered his hands to it, and attempted to mimic the motion that Sal was doing. His brows tweaked, as he found the dough was a bit less than flexible, at least for the moment. It was chilled after all, and it would take some warning up before it would become more pliable.

Thomas' eyes flicked over to Sal, and they widened a bit as he shamelessly flipped the disc into the air. His eyes followed the floured disc of dough and a slow smile tugged at his lips.

"If that's part of making a pizza then I think I might be screwed," he mused. If he threw this dough up in the air it would likely land on his face. Or Sal's face, or the floor... depending on who or what was under it when it landed, but he doubted it would be his hands.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal smiled and kept tossing the dough, having some fun with it and feeling his ego lift just a bit, enjoying Thomas’ attention on him. Once it was almost stretched to the point of being paper thin, he folded it over itself in his hands and dropped it back on the counter, molding it over into a ball again. Tossing some flour at the ball, he licked his lip and confessed. “It’s just for show. Most of the time, once you start tossin’ it around, the dough gets too thin. Doesn’t cook up right. So no worries there.”

Once again, Sall pressed out the dough. His palms and fingers pushed and smoothed, kneading the ball out flat with a series of quick movements, his limbs well versed in the motions. In just bare moments he had a medium sized disc again, ready for sauce, cheese and whatever else anyone could possibly want for toppings.

Glancing over at Thomas’ dough, his mouth quirked, the blond noting the bit of trouble the brunet was having trying to mimic his hands. “I had a helluva time workin’ the dough the first time Pop brought me back here. Stuff wouldn’t move like I wanted it too.” He held his hands over the counter, slowing the motions he’d used in his dough, moving them in the air, for Thomas to better see what he’d been doing. “Don’t be afraid to force it. You’re not gonna hurt anything. And if it gets too big or goes all wonky, you can just ball it up and start again.”

He watched Thomas’ hands, a small smile constant on his lips. He was happy, truly happy with the situation. He liked this, showing and sharing something like what he loved to do, what he did every day, with someone else. It warmed his chest and stomach, made him almost giddy with pleasure. As he watched Thomas work the dough, not perfect, but a fast learner and doing more than well enough for his first try, Sal let his eyes slip from long fingered hands to the man’s wrists and up his forearms. Warm looking, smooth skin and lightly toned muscle, all shown off to him like never before by the shirt the brunet was wearing – his shirt.

“Here…” Sal spoke softly, coming in close to the other once more and wrapping his right hand around Thomas’. He moved in behind the other man, chest to the Brit’s back, and his other hand came to take Thomas’ other. He swallowed, a nervous twitch clench in his stomach at the proximity he’d just put them in; but he didn’t regret it, no matter how sudden the idea had been. How could he? The heat radiating from Thomas’ back into his chest was incredible, and covering the brunet’s hands with his own was… well it was frankly like nothing Sal had ever felt before.

The blond looked down at their hands from over Thomas’ shoulder; Thomas’ fingers were longer than his, but his palms were just slight bigger. They shouldn’t fit, but somehow Sal found his matching up well with the other man’s. It felt good, if nothing else.

“You just…” Sal spoke a little low, using his hands to press Thomas’ and move them over the dough in just the right ways. “Like this.” He guided the brunet’s hands slowly, each movement deliberate and calculated, kneading fingers and arching sweeps of palms over the dough. Under their combined efforts, a disc began to form.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
The brunet watched as Sal had a bit more fun with his dough. Flipping it and twirling it. His hands had slowed in their own working, to watch the little show in it's entirety. Then he watched as Sal balled the dough up, much to his surprise. But when the blond explained, he gave a little nod of understanding. "Hm... I never knew that. Then again I've never made a pizza in my life," he smirked a bit.

Sal soon had the dough all rolled out quite quickly, back into the nice circle it had been in before. Thomas turned his attention back to his own dough as he continued to struggle with it. Thomas glanced side long as Sal demonstrated the movement in the air, and told him to force it if he needed. He let out a faint grunt as he gave the dough a strong shove with his hand.

The Brit had hardly been prepared for what happened next though. He blinked twice as he felt the warm chest press lightly against his back. It caused his breath to catch in his chest. Sal's hands were soon resting atop his own. His brows furrowed slightly, as the warm well versed palms rested on the backs of his hands. Thomas heard the gentle directions, spoken near his ear. He swallowed a bit as he put his focus on the dough, though his eyes kept flicking over the sight of Sal's strong forearms and hands resting against his own. He let the blond direct his hands and fingers, till he better for used to the movements.

At such a close proximity, it was likely Sal could catch the typical scent of the brunet. Though since he was now wearing one of his shirts, it was melding with his own essence. Thomas swallowed softly, noting his mouth had gone a bit dry. His body also felt like it had grown a few degrees hotter. He took a slow breath and let it out...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal felt his body swig off into two different directions; one part settled and calmed deep in his chest, the blond’s shoulders and arms and hands relaxing as Thomas took the proximity and contact, accepted the direction without protest and without demanding respect be paid to the boundaries of personal space. Another part of him though, in the pit of his stomach, tensed up, clenching tight and twisting. That part was practically terrified of the allowed proximity and guiding touch. Scared the ever lovin’ out of him.

The conflicting emotions had his insides warring against each other, leaving him a little unsettled and a lot uncertain, the blond not sure what to expect from second to second the longer he remained against Thomas’ back. However, despite the confusion within him, Sal wasn’t backing off. He wasn’t retreating. He didn’t want to. If anything, he’d have loved to get closer.

Watching the dough and their hands, Sal’s expression eased enough to smile. A small, single huff left him, like a laugh and praise, hot through his nose. “Good. That’s it…” he voiced the quiet praise near the brunet’s ear. “We’ll make a Pizzaioli outta you yet.”

Even once Thomas’ hands seemed to have caught on to the proper patterns of motion, Sal remained where he was. He eased his direction and guidance, the pressure of his own hands, off the brunet’s though. Not entirely, but just enough so Thomas’ were doing more than his were now. His eyes left the dough, turning up and inward at the brunet in front of him, blue gaze tracing the man’s jaw and sliding over his profile; the line of his nose, the pillow of his mouth, his brow and shape of his eyes, the fall of his dark hair over his forehead. Beautiful.

The thought struck him hard in the chest, the truth of it like a blow to his sternum. Thomas was more than just attractive, he was a beautiful man. Sal’s hands loosely wrapped around Thomas’ wrists, and slowly slide his fingers over the backs of the brunet’s hands, then to his wrists once more. He sighed, eyes softening and then drooping closed. And without even thinking about what he was doing, Sal titled his head enough to drag the tip of his nose from just behind the man’s ear to the back of his neck, soft hair tickling as he pressed a kiss to Thomas’ nape.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
The Brit had been stiff at the initial contact, though he had relaxed a bit once they got going. His arms had loosened, and he was definitely catching on to how to roll out pizza dough into a proper pie shape. Enough flour to make sure the dough didn't stick to your hands. The proper motion to roll and flatten out the dough evenly and into the shape you wanted.

A hint of a smile teased his lips as Sal murmured the encouraging comments into his ears. "... A Pizzaioli, eh?" he chuckled softly. He could only assume that was Italian for a pizza maker. He felt Sal's hands let up their grip on his, though he didn't take them off entirely. The gentle sweeping brushes of the flour dusted palms and fingers over the backs of his hands and his wrists remained. Sal could likely feel the muscles and tendons working away beneath smooth skin, lightly covered in dark hairs the further up his wrist he went.

The Brit was oblivious to any observations Sal was making of his face and his profile in those moments. He'd truly been very absorbed in the making of his pizza crust. Well... that and his hands on his own. It was a nice feeling, the warm touches.

He faintly felt the other moving behind him. Though the intimate brush of his nose against the soft flesh behind his ear and the little path taken to his nape sent a little spark down his spine. A kiss followed, and his flesh prickled all over.

Even more surprising was the fact Thomas didn't shove the other man away immediately. His hands had stopped working, and... a little flicker had appeared in the pit of his stomach. Not to mention the pink flush that had risen to his cheeks. His eyes flicked over the hands that were resting on his wrists, and gently his thumbs hooked with Sal's, and his fingers spread a bit, as the blond's hand slid back down over his, catching his fingers between his own.

The restaurant was quiet, except for their breathing. Though Thomas swore his heart could be heard, since he felt it throbbing up in his ears...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal remained still, except for his hands. His fingers slid back down, feeling Thomas’ thumbs hook his and the brunet’s fingers spread around his. A soft exhale left the blond as his fingers locked with Thomas’, fitting between them and curling, closing his hand over the other man’s.

His own heart was hammering in his chest, the pulse point in his throat jumping beneath his skin, yet he wasn’t as nervous as he figured he probably should be. He was nervous, of course, but… that calm was there too. Fear and comfort all in one, creating an odd midpoint in him that left the blond standing still against the brunet’s back with his mouth resting on the back of his neck and his breathing slow.

After a moment just standing there with their flour covered hands joined and each breath he took brushing his chest into the Brit’s back, Sal browed his head until his forehead pressed against the back of Thomas’ head. He dragged his nose again, slowly, over the back of Thomas’ neck. Nuzzling softly and occasionally letting his lips drag as well.

“Perfect…” the blond murmured into the hair at the back of Thomas’ head. Whether he was talking about the dough or the man himself, Sal didn’t specify. His thumbs brushed against the other man’s, fingers holding onto the palms beneath his. A second kiss was dropped just above the collar of the shirt Thomas wore and then a third, against the side of the brunet’s neck – each a slow gesture, lingering and soft. Probably oddly tender for someone like Sal who gave off a much rougher image most of the time; but than again, Thomas had become a rather large exception to many of the blond’s prevision rules.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas' eyes had since closed. Warm hands on his, a strong chest against his back, and surprisingly gentle kisses and caresses were being placed to the back of his neck. With his eyes closed, he very well could have mistaken Sal for Paul in those moments. Perhaps that was why he wasn't... shoving or pushing him back. His pulse had hiked up a notch, from the soft kisses being dusted over his neck.

The brunet swallowed thickly, about a lump that had been forming in his throat. His eyes slowly opened then, as he looked down to their linked hands and the dough he'd painstakingly rolled out into the medium sized disc.

"... I think it's done. The crust I mean," he spoke, his voice sounding smaller than he'd anticipated. He cleared his throat then, as his hands released their grip on Sal's. He rolled his shoulders then, as he spared the blond a glance over his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure, at this point, what to make of those touches. Sal attempting to come onto him? ... Didn't seem like the way he would go about it. Sal wasn't a gentle person, so what was up? ...

His hands withdrew from the dough as he began wiping flour and dough off a bit. "What's next? The sauce?" he asked. His voice was a bit more level now, as he turned their focus back to making pizza. Instead of... whatever the hell had just been going on a few moments ago. His neck still tingled from the touches. And there was still a hint of a blush on his face.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
“Mmm?” Sal hummed when Thomas’ voice broke through the haze he’d fallen in to. He blinked his eyes open slowly, gaze a little blurry and full of dark hair and the skin of the other man’s neck. He focused though, as the fingers his had linked with released him. “Oh. Right.”

Swallowing as well, Sal licked a nervous swipe over his bottom lip. Thomas’ shoulders rolled, the action pressing them together a bit tighter for a brief instance. He took a step back though, when the man looked back at him. The look in green eyes was… kind of confused, maybe? Clearly questioning, but the gaze didn’t stick to his long enough for Sal to be able to read what that question was.

“Yah. Yah, the sauce is next,” Sal nodded and let his arms fall away from around the other, the blond turning his body away. He felt almost disjointed, movements hesitant like his body wasn’t sure what exactly it was supposed to do. He was tingling, his mouth hot and his chest tight, the taste of the brunet’s skin lingering just at the outer edges of his mouth.

Returning to his crust, Sal moved from behind the brunet to beside him again. He opened the container that held the sauce he used, then stopped and shook his head. “Sauce, but, yah, first we need to…” He turned and grabbed two flat, circular pans and flipped his crust onto one. He did the same for Thomas’ before retuning back to the sauce, getting a ladle and dropping it into the large, silver sauce container.

“Ok, so…” he was struggling a little to get back on track with this little lesson, but he managed, forcing himself to focus on this and not… not how it’d felt to have his mouth on Thomas’ skin, to feel it prickle under his lips, or the way their hands had fit together. How closely together they had been. “You wanna… you wanna ladle the sauce out onto the center of your crust. Just one full spoonful’ll do it.” He demonstrated as he talked, “You don’t wanna drip any sauce on the pan though. It’ll make this rough spot while it’s in the oven and the pizza won’t slip off right. But just… spread the sauce from the center out. Not all the way to the edge, but just… like this…”

He spread the sauce with the butt of the ladle in slow, smooth, circular movements. He stopped about an inch and a half from the edge of the stretched dough and returned the ladle to the container. He handed it over than to the brunet, letting Thomas cover his own pizza.

“Next is cheese,” Sal explained while Thomas finished saucing his crust. He took a handful of mozzarella discs and started covering his pizza with them. “As much or as little as you want. Everything else goes on top.”

Sal himself dueled out whole slices of tomato over his generous layer of cheese and tossed oregano over top of everything. He watched as Thomas carried on and ‘decorated’ his own personal pie, blue eyes on hands he’d had in his own just moments before – his palms tingling at the memory, still vivid and fresh in his mind. It’d felt… hell, he wouldn’t lie to himself. It’d felt incredible. He’d felt high and yet grounded, relaxed and at the same time scared out of his skull; so much had welled up in his chest at once, he’d hardly been able to fully discern what he’d been feeling. Tenderness though, an overwhelming need to gentle every movement and smooth, soothe, touch and feel like the man in his arms and in his hands was something precious… he’d never felt like that before. He’d never felt that for another person in all his life.

It scared him.
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