Looks were everything. At least to the world's greatest Formula racer, Francesco Bernoulli. Looks judged, looks portrayed facts, looks reflect one's feelings, looks were able to speak. The Italian knew how to use the language of his body just as well as he knew Italian. And both languages, he managed to speak so sensually you couldn't resist but to love his language. His body spoke in the manner Italian sounded, fluid, romantic, confident, slightly arrogant in his case and captivating.

The worst part was probably that he had no reason to hide it, so he didn't. He posed proudly and chatted up with the likable senorina's at parties. He loved interviews, he loved any attention. They called him the most beautiful racer around, and he knew it.

I should praise myself lucky to have his interest, though I don't do so. Anyone would love to be in my place. Whenever he's not around to mess up every thought I have, I just consider Francesco's behavior to be a result of boredom, and he actually told me I was partly right about that. I might have the main point, in a very negative manner. I clearly remember how much his body was leaning towards me, he turned to me more than to anyone else to whom he talks. His eyes were opened wide, curiously looking at me, to hear me out on whatever I had to say. He considered his behavior towards me as like how badly he wanted a trophy. I wasn't boring, everybody else was. To him. Therefore, but not only therefore, he wanted me.

Something about me attracted him more like honey attracted bees. I knew why I couldn't help falling for him, he was undoubtfully the most romantic and sexy man alive. And though I love to deny the fact, his touches were magical. To top that, he always does his best for me. He always tries to outdo himself. Every single time he did his absolute best for me, his trophy he felt he needed to win. None of our previous times ever faded due to the next, every time was amazing to be never forgotten.

Francesco really made the large parties we were invited to a lot more interesting. It was already fun to see people who I usually didn't see, but I most looked forward to him. Somewhere in the evening, no matter where I was and with who I was talking, he'd find me and started chatting with me innocently. His body spoke a whole other language at those times though.

The first time together, I was nervous enough that Francesco noticed it too. I'd rather not make him notice any kind of weakness, but in that situation it only made it all better for me. Though he was very pushy in the beginning, he directly loosened up and put down the pace at my discomfort. He did it all for me, not just himself. His touch became softer and more attentive and he whispered calmly and romantic in my ear.

And while I'm busy being honest, the thing making me relax the most was the fact that he said we weren't doing anything that weird, according to him we weren't the only one having rendez-vouses like this. I asked around and it turned out that Francesco was actually right about it. I actually saw others hooking up after I found out it happened. It never really disgusted me like I expected it would, I could only think about Francesco. Anytime I was looking for him, he luckily noticed. He knew why I sought him.

He'd just start talking innocently with me, no matter what the situation was, no matter who was with him or with me. He kept on talking long enough to not look suspicious when he either asked me to have a private word with him, or he'd wait until the other people with us left. In a rush he took me to a bathroom, where our little secret started all over again. It was a good thing the toilettes at these kind of parties were larger than average.

The way Francesco was looking at me always managed to excite me. Even if I told myself earlier I wasn't in the mood, Francesco always changed that for me. His face as he watched me, imagining what he'd to with me.

Every time again he would look at me like a child would be looking at Christmas before receiving his presents. I found myself to be out of control in the least amount of time as well. Before Francesco got the chance I embrace him tightly as I start to place kisses on his neck. We got as close to each other as we could literally be, crushing ourselves nearly against each other. His hands slowly travel across the fabric of my clothes. His member is already stone hard and pressed against me, he is very needy. Needy enough to not be able to navigate around me properly.

At this point I could still gain control. I rub my hips slightly against him, earning melodic soft moans. His hands just drop down to my ass to grab it. Finally I kiss him on his lips, his smooth soft lips. I keep moving slightly against him, kissing his lips. My name left his lips a few times before I noticed him getting impatient. I carefully take off his scarf and start to unbutton his shirt. I knew from experience that he'd get angry afterwards if his clothes ended up wrinkled or otherwise messy, so I try to take my time.

Our kisses become more heated. Francesco's tongue seeks entry hastily. His green vest drops to the ground, followed by his white blouse. He still keeps hold of me by my ass, making our hips grind together and causing me to get a full erection as well. At this point however, I wish to have more of him than just sex. My hands touch every bit of his skin, tickling his sides, rubbing the muscles on his back, caressing his warm skin, pinching his nipples until it freaked him out. I love making him freak out more than I probably should.

He abruptly lets go of my ass and shoves me off him. With one smooth movement he wiped a string of salvia away from his mouth before his eyes flashed back to me. Instead of properly undressing me, like I did to him, he grabs my shirt and pulls it up, trying to get it off by just pulling up in which he eventually succeeds. My clothes end up on top of his, in the corner of our small room.

Francesco lowers himself and starts to kiss my chest roughly, his arms behind me and his fingers fidgeting with the elastic band of my underwear. Of course he had to leave some lovemarks on my chest, which annoyed me. Francesco would always get some revenge, be it in a race or for me pinching his nipples. I groan out loud as soon as Francesco attacked my nipple. I wind my fingers in his brown hair and try to pull him off slightly. Francesco's head traveled down, taking my pants and underwear down with him.

That was the point everything really started. I leaned against the cold wall behind me, still keeping my hands in Francesco's hair as I moaned out as soon as Francesco took the tip of my erection in his mouth, his tongue lightly playing with it. Moans kept escaping my mouth as Francesco quickly worked on me, his mouth doing what it was best in and his hand pumping up from the base of my cock. I could hear him snicker at my submissiveness.

Long before I came he got up again. He licked his lips. He glared at my face with those playful eyes filled with lust. My hands slide from his head down on his back, I noticed his pants were still on. Not for that long though. I keep caressing the lowest part of his back as I waited for him to take his pants off. It was one of his weirdest habits, really not liking anyone else to take his clothes off. It was the worst with his pants

"Cut the crap, let's get to it" I whisper between the panting.

As soon as his pants had disappeared from his body he pushes me even rougher back into the wall. A chain of Italian words I still didn't understand left his mouth. He never told me what he says to me, but it wasn't about the meaning of the words anyway. The way Francesco spoke the words was whatever enchanted me. He bucks his hips against mine, rubbing our manhood together while he was licking his fingers. I nearly melt. The cold tiles on the wall don't affect me anymore, not in this situation. Not with Francesco's hard member rubbing against me in anticipation. Not with Francesco eye-fucking me while he licked his fingers sexily with small words Italian in between. All I want was for him to start, I want him.

He pulls me back from the wall and he captures me in an embrace. "How should 'a Francesco take you this 'a time?" he whispers as his first finger slides into my ass. All I can do is moan. "Make 'a you bend over," the second one follows, sending dazing jolts up my spine. "So Francesco will be 'a able to get inside of 'a you the deepest," I push harder into Francesco as he started to scissor with his fingers, I'm afraid I will already come like this. "Or with 'a your back to the wall so 'a Francesco can see your beautiful face?" Francesco lets out a fake sigh as he slid the third one in and stretching me even further. I scream out his name so loud it wouldn't surprise me if others would hear me.

I get slammed back into the wall and Francesco pulls my legs up faster than I could register at that point. Francesco moved us around a little but soon entered me with a blissful moan. My arms twist around Francesco's back as I tried to get as close as I could, to feel as much as I could. The sound of our skin hitting eachother was minor compared to our moans and pants. My eyes are closed as I hang unto Francesco. He is amazing. It felt like heaven. I want to hold him like this forever. I want his beautiful voice to never stop whispering these beautiful Italian words between his sensual pants.

Every trust made me moan even louder and gave me more and more jolts of pleasure. It was unbearable to keep it up, but I never wanted it to end. I groaned him to go on and on, though I noticed he was so close to edging as well. I beg, and I beg even louder before a whole wave makes my muscles twitch and turn numb as I yelled out in pleasure.

I numbly hold onto him afterwards, I had turned quiet which made it possible to hear his voice. Hearing him getting near his limit was probably the most beautiful sound in the world. His voice turned so emotional and erotic. All I understood from what he said was that it sounded like the cutest thing ever. His moans got higher and higher, he panted faster and faster and I decide to help him a bit, turning my hips and trying to tighten up my muscles to milk him out, with the desired result. He turned even further to me, his head pushing against mine, and staying as deep as he could upon his release. My name never sounded more appealing than when he called it out.

He kept me between the wall and himself, kissing me feverishly, his tongue still restless. I keep stroking his back while I try to keep clenched to him. Why did all our get-togethers resemble some one-night-stand setup?

"Let me sleep with you," I say as we pull apart.

"No, you 'a can't," he replies with such a sweet smile I actually get confused.

"What?"

"You can't, amore mio," he plants a few more kisses along my neck and begins to create a hickey low enough to be covered by my shirt.

"But- Please, Francesco," I close my eyes again to register the feeling of Francesco a little better.

Francesco suddenly let go of me and put me down on the floor again. He grabs a handful of toiletpaper and roughly cleans his own stomach from my cum, which covered us both. I still look poutingly towards him. Why didn't he agree to let me sleep with him? We both slept in a hotel anyway. Or was I just that naïve to let myself being sucked into his games this much?

He swiftly disposes of the toiletpaper and turns back to me. Using the same swift movement he grabbed my chin and studied me for a little while. "Amore mio," he whispers, and all I want is to believe those words. I close my eyes as I whimper softly. "Please understand 'a Francesco," he gently placed his lips on my forehead before continuing, "How will 'a Francesco ever be able to 'a make it better every 'a single time after Francesco takes you will sleep with 'a Francesco?"

"Will you ever take me home then?"

He placed another few kisses on my head, "Perhaps, McQueen. It 'a will all be a surprise!"

Well crap, I wanted to do this one for 17-3, which might be the national holiday in Italy, like some Francesco tribute. But like a few hundred words before I was done, I had to go and I didn't get home the rest of the weekend so this is due too late for that.

Not like I promised this fic to anyone besides myself though,

Poor excuse for porn is poor.

Maybe if I'm bored I'll rewrite this from Francesco's perspective once. which will be a lot harder but fun. maaaaybbeee.

Thanks for reading anyway