My Unforgivable, My Unforgettable... (Mafia Romance, 18+)

Chapter Twelve

"Come in Psycho. You got some ointment?"
He nods, as he pulls away from the hug.
"Go lie on the bed."
He takes off his t-shirt, and I keep my eyes fixated on the ointment he just handed me, trying to read the instructions. Key word "trying." Once he is sprawled out on the bed, I sit on his butt, and begin my work.

I apply some of the medicine onto my palms, rub, then spread it over his back. He groans and growls out in pain, my heart clenching with each sound. Must be so painful, too painful.
"Psycho, what is it you suffer from."

"Like I said earlier, I don't wish to talk about it."
"Who else knows about it?"
"Only my twin sister, because she's also suffering from the same disease. It's why I needed, and still need that stupid antivirus!" He growls, due to both the pain, and his own words.

I furrow my brows a little.
"Was my father involved in the contraction of the disease, by both you and your twin?"
He remains immobile for a short period of time, and in that moment, its as if time stands still. I struck a nerve! I fucking struck a nerve!
"You don't have to answer if you are not comfortable," I quickly state.

"He is! Is why he deserved death!"
I exhale deeply, focusing all my attention on the task at hand.
"Is it...is it terminal."
"Won't live past the age of fifty, unless I find the fucking antivirus. Now, stop with the fucking questions already, damnit!"

I understand why he's reacting this way. Generally, humans were created to recent sympathy, especially the male species. I completely understand that he's being vile, because of the awareness of his death, and the comprehension that there's only so much he can do. I sigh. I know that I yearn to help him, but how? I rake my mind for something, anything, that my father could have said about a certain antivirus, but nada! Nothing at all! I feel the frustration and exasperation set in.

I draw myself back to the present, massaging his spine area, from neck going down. I press, smoothe, kneed, do anything, that could help relieve his back pains. I want him to open up to me, but only on his own accord, and not through my compulsion. I'm well aware, he doesn't fully trust me, and that's exactly why, I need him to tell me everything, when he feels he's ready.

I massage the backside of his neck, thumbs pressing gently over his cervical vertebrae. I lean my head, and plant a kiss gently against that area. I actually feel him tense. It was a brief tension of the muscles, but it was still there.
"What are you doing Luna."
"Being a massues."
"What masseuse, plants a kiss on her client's neck?"

"The one on your back. You know, the one who's currently giving you a heavenly massage. That massues," I reply, smiling to myself.
I press my fists gently over his shoulder blades, growl after growl escaping his lips. I lean forward, and plant another two kisses over the two blades, then move down to both sides of his ribs, and begin my massage.

Am I falling for him? What am I doing on his back? I'm helping him. It's no sin helping out. And he does need it after all.

"Psycho, do you want me to stop with the small pecks?"
He keeps silent, his groans now nothing but silent moans. I move lower, to the small of his back, still awaiting his response.
"Should I stop planting them?"
It takes him another good minute, before he finally answers.

"You know sweet torture Luna? When you massage the aching muscles, its agonizing, then, when your lips press the light kisses, its a sweet sensation. You have no idea," he responds, tone heavy with sleep.
My smile only widens at his response.
Another few minutes, and his breathes are shallow. He's fast asleep.

I get off of him, and lay next to him. I don't switch the lampshade off, I just take this time to scrutinize his facial features. His is beautiful. Intimidating, but still beautiful. I can't help but feel guilty, that my father, is the entire reason he is suffering like this.

I cup his cheek, and press my lips against his forehead. Does he trust me, to the point of him coming to me for helping. To the point of him opening up to me, about his condition?
I unfold the spare duvet at my feet, and cover our bodies in it.
"Good night Psycho, and thank you for trusting me to this point. You won't regret it. You have my word on that," I whisper, as I settle in closer to him.

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