Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SIMON
My phone buzzes in my pocket and a frisson of excitement runs through me.
I know it’s from Andrés as we’ve been messaging each other multiple times a day for the last couple of weeks.
But I don’t know what it’ll be about. It might be something about his day or a picture of Chispa and the other horses.
Seeing them in the familiar English countryside has made me feel homesick in a way I’ve never felt before.
Surely in order to feel homesick you need a home to miss, and that’s one thing I don’t have.
I’ve been travelling, learning from the best chefs and saving for the last few years, and in that time I’ve never felt the pull of home as much as I do now.
I only have a couple more weeks left to work on my contract.
I can make it. What I don’t know yet is what I’m going to do when I get there.
One of my friends from college, who I’ve been in touch with, is settled, married, and expecting a baby, so I can’t stay with him.
I haven’t heard back from the other one yet, and time is running out.
I glance at the clock. There’s only an hour left of my shift, but it must be early morning over in England.
Instead of giving in to the temptation of reading Andrés’ message, I’ll delay it.
Edge myself a little that it might be something rude—dirty talk or a dick pic.
We’ve shared a few of those too. As I start putting away the equipment the washers have cleaned and dried, I laugh to myself.
It could quite easily be the answer to my question yesterday and his for today.
Since Christmas we’ve been playing a long distance version of getting to know you.
It started as an idea I had when he messaged me on Christmas Eve and I could tell he was feeling low.
We take it in turns to ask each other questions and then we answer them too.
We’ve been through all the usual stuff like favourite colours, movies, books, holiday destinations.
We’ve done first memories and any pets, and now we’ve started on more esoteric subjects, or rather I have, as my question yesterday was, “Would you rather travel backwards or forwards in time, but you can’t change anything that happens to people?
” I do want to know the answer, but equally—okay, maybe a bit more than that—I want it to be a spicy message.
I want to hear how hard Andrés is just thinking about me.
If it isn’t that then I’m going to try to get one out of him.
Just the thought raises my cock into a semi.
I try to focus on the rest of my shift but it’s not working.
I’m as horny as hell. I was fine not having sex for months until Andrés walked into my kitchen with his ridiculous request and an offer of a hookup.
But the last few weeks since he left I’ve spent half my time aroused.
I’ve had more than a few fantasies of him walking into the kitchen and railing me against the units.
“You alright, chef?” Stefan asks, and I realise I’ve been standing with a colander in my hand for several minutes just staring into space.
“Yeah, sure, glad to get this shift done with, though,” I say quickly, and turn away hoping my face hasn’t gone beet red.
Once everyone has gone, I’m the last to turn out the lights, and I walk quickly towards my room.
As soon as I’m through the door I give in and take my phone out.
I see there are three messages from Andrés.
Message one.
Andrés: Hey, cutie, that’s a good one. Backwards, because there are loads of people I’d like to have met. Also, I want to make the future, not just know it. What about you?
I laugh. That’s a pretty sweet answer, and I hope the future he wants to make includes me. I message him my answer. It’s sadder than his.
Simon: Backwards. I would have liked to have come out to my parents before they died.
It was something I never got a chance to do.
I was just discovering my sexuality at the time, and I was planning to tell them on my next break from college.
It was something they never knew about me, an important part of who I am, and I find it painful that they didn’t get a chance to learn it.
I have no doubt that they would have been supportive and that hurts just as much.
I rub my chest, easing the ache that always appears when I think about them.
Message two.
Andrés: My turn. Would you survive a zombie apocalypse?
He makes me laugh, which helps dispel the black cloud that had descended from messaging about my parents.
Simon: I have pretty good knife skills, so I could certainly chop them up. But I’m not sure I’d want them to get that close. I’d have to learn how to throw them, so I think my chances are about even. What about you?
I turn to the next and final message, and meanwhile I see that Andrés has seen my replies. I already know it’s a picture but I want to see it properly.
Message three.
Andrés: Dreamed of you and woke up like this.
I open the message so I can see the full picture. It’s a selfie. Andrés is reclining on a bed, naked. He’s got his customary and very sexy smirk, probably as he knows the effect his picture will have on me. His dick is hard, jutting out of his nest of black hair. He looks delicious.
Simon: Mmm I could lick you all over. Are you still waiting for me?
I wait, and instead of seeing the dancing dots of a reply, my phone rings.
“Hey,” I say when I answer it.
“Hey, cutie.” Something releases in my chest when I hear his voice. He sounds real in a way that messages don’t, and I take a deep breath before I can speak.
“It’s good to hear you,” I croak
“Yes it is.” I hear his breathing down the phone as if he’s struggling as much as me. I try to keep it light.
“Great photo,” I say and he laughs. It sounds like relief and I feel it too; we’ve got through the first few moments.
“In answer to your question . . . No. A hot shower, my hand, and thoughts of you took care of that.” I can’t help laughing out loud, pleased he added that he was thinking of me.
“Well, I’ll be using it later, so thanks for the material,” I say.
“My pleasure.” His voice is dark and sexy. I yawn loudly, unable to contain it. “Sorry, it must be late there.”
I check the clock, and it’s nearly one in the morning. There’s a six hour time difference and I can see him in my mind having breakfast.
“Yeah it is, it’s been a busy day.”
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says. “But Simon. I’m really sorry about your parents. That you never got to tell them. It sounds important to you.”
That he cares enough to say so makes my heart swell. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. Did your father know?”
“Yes he did, and he was fine with it. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he was bi-sexual, but if he was, he never told me.”
I’m pleased for him and we talk for a few more minutes. Eventually, when I yawn again he ends the call.
“Go get some sleep, cutie, we’ll talk again soon.”
“Yes we will.” As soon as I put down my phone, I fall into a deep sleep.
The next morning, after my alarm goes off I fall back on the pillows with a contented sigh.
Not only do I have a day off but I haven’t slept so well in ages, probably not since Andrés was here.
Last night was not as good as having him with me, but it was the next best thing.
I luxuriate in having time to relax and there being no need to rush to get out of bed.
My thoughts return to last night. God, just hearing Andrés say my name is a turn on, or even hearing him speak in his delicious accent.
My hand finds its way to my cock as I daydream.
Long lazy strokes as I imagine Andrés whispering to me, his voice warm and silky, uttering encouragement against my skin.
My hand moves faster as I sink into my fantasy, no longer taking my time, my body writhing as my mind spirals in pleasure.
I’m desperate for release but it doesn’t come.
It’s beautiful but also agony. I cup my balls with my other hand, squeezing them.
Jolts of electricity shoot through me but I still can’t come.
I release them and fumble for my phone; there’s only one way to fix this.
“Seemon?” He answers on the third ring and just the sound of him saying my name makes me groan. “Seemon, are you alright?”
“Yeah . . . just talk . . . to me,” I pant.
“What’s going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?” His voice sounds worried. I don’t have the words to fully explain, I just need him to talk. I can already feel my nerves tingling and I want more.
“Can’t come . . . need your voice.” That’s as much as I can manage. I hear his low sexy chuckle as he understands, and relief floods through me.
“So, cutie, you need my help, do you?” His voice is like expensive, dark molten chocolate, and every sense I have is in overdrive. “Got yourself in a spot of trouble?”
“Yes,” I gasp, losing myself in his voice as he talks to me.
I barely hear what it is he’s saying. It could be a fucking shopping list for all I care.
All I want is his gorgeous tones. I’m so close I can almost taste it.
My body is taut, strung out, just waiting for the wave to reach me and push me over the edge.
“More,” I plead as he pauses, and again I hear his little laugh and something uttered under his breath. I didn’t catch it but I know the shape of the sound and my arousal spikes.
“Spanish,” I beg and he immediately switches. Oh god, it sounds so fucking good.
“Cuando te vea te voy a garchar tan duro que te vas a desmayar.”
“Unngh.” My orgasm hits and cum erupts all over my chest. I lie panting, sweating, spent, and waiting for my vision to return. I gently let go of my dick, wincing slightly at how sensitive it is after the bashing it just got.
“Cutie. Did that work?” Andrés asks, and I realise I must have just gone silent on him.