Book of 'What ifs'
Gilbert
Chapter One
Of course
It was one of those nights, a cold night, where Francisco would place a coat on Gilbert's shoulders like a true gentleman. Except- Gilbert was also a man. The copper-haired guns-man found that he lost a bit of manly pride every time Francisco did something to him. Of course, this certainly didn't keep the red from his cheeks, burning the tips of his ears. "Your blushing." Francisco pointed out.
I know! Gilbert thought in a frustrated manner, "I'm not blushing; it's the cold." Gil lied, turning away from the taller man, and forcing his shorter legs to walk at a faster pace. He glanced back to see Francisco keeping pace easily, with a soft (arrogant; in Gilbert's mind) grin. Huffing silently, Gilbert glared before turning his gaze away, clutching the coat that smelled of Francisco tightly to him, blushing softly as he thought of it as akin to Francisco's embraces. Though not nearly as warm. "You're red." Francisco pointed out again.
"It's the cold." Gilbert lied again.
"Is it really that cold?" The taller man asked.
"It's colder than Cattivo." Gilbert answered plainly.
"Cattivo isn't really all that cold..." Francisco noticed the look the smaller boy was giving him, and smiled sheepishly.
"Anyways, we're at my house..." Gilbert shifted from foot to foot, a bit hesitant to go inside, to stay with Francisco a bit longer but unassumingly, Gilbert peeled off the red-haired boy's coat at a deliberately slow pace. That's when he suddenly felt hot breath against the back of his neck. A delicious chill went down Gilbert's spine as his sensitive skin prickled, a warmth pooling at the pit of the diminutive boy's stomach.
"Let me help you..." Francisco's murmured, his smooth and oddly husky voice violating Gilbert's ear, a pair of soft lips stroking his auricle seductively. Pale, long fingers moved to the unbuttoned buttons of the coat, his arms circling around Gilbert. "Come closer- I can't reach." Francisco demanded softly, tugging the small boy to his chest gently as his arms tightened, assuring that there was no escape for the copper-haired gunman.
Meanwhile, Gilbert's face was warm enough to melt the snow beneath their feet, and Francisco could feel the warmth rush to Gilbert's ears, causing the Italian to smirk. "You live alone, right Gil...?" Francisco asked in a purr, Gilbert, un-trusting of his own voice, simply nodded in reply. "Hmm? You must be lonely when I'm not with you..." The red-head assumed.
"A...a little..." Gilbert stammered. Francisco's fingers stopped moving.
"I'm cold too..." Francisco muttered, "can I come in...?"
"Huh...?" Gilbert turned his head to Francisco, "u...um, don't do anything weird..." The Italian couldn't help but smile.
"Of course."
