4. Handprints
4
HANDPRINTS
A lberto’s legs were shaking like a foal’s. Lying on his back atop Mathias’s carpet, he felt both wrung out and mysteriously full at the same time. Above him, Mathias had thrown all pretence out the window and was licking his cum off his stomach and chest, and he was humming as he did. That was all too surreal to him, so much that Alberto wasn’t sure he was awake after all. He didn’t dare move. He hid his face behind his hands. “So? How do I taste?”
Mathias briefly paused, but he didn’t stop. He swiped his tongue over his sternum first then raised his head to kiss him. Alberto tasted himself on his tongue.
“Weird,” Mathias said between two kisses. “Hot. Bitter.”
Alberto snorted. “Sounds about right.”
Mathias answered in kind, puffing out a laugh right into the crook of his neck, where he found another drop to clean off him, making Alberto bite down a whimper.
And then, he held him.
He held him in an embrace that made Alberto shake even more. Dumbstruck, he wondered if this moment was really happening right now, and if it would be okay to never want it to stop. Mathias held him for a long time, heart beating against heart. Then, he whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”
Alberto had lost his voice. “F-For what?”
“For coming with me today. ”
To his consternation, Mathias lifted his head, and suddenly, he was gazing into his wide-open eyes. No, no, nope. Alberto tried to turn away, but Mathias didn’t let him retreat. He would usually get pushed away when he got like that. This time, Alberto didn’t have the strength to fight him. He squeezed his eyes shut and let him join their lips together, his nails buried into the low pile carpet. Alberto wanted to groan, to curse; he hated that kiss as much as he loved it. Mathias’s gentleness had always felt more brutal than his fiercest thrusts.
After a moment, he couldn’t help himself and started squirming in an effort to escape him, to escape hope, and that’s when he felt the pain. His faint hiss caught Mathias’s attention, who immediately rolled off him, his wonderful heat replaced by a cruel chill.
“What’s wrong?”
Alberto didn’t want to make a fuss. “Nothing.”
“What is it?” Mathias asked more firmly, seizing his wrist.
“Nothing! The carpet chafed my back a little.”
Mathias flipped him to the side and muttered under his breath, “Why didn’t you say something?”
Alberto internally rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t feel it at the time.”
“Come on, get up.”
Alberto was still too weak to battle with him, so he let him pull him up without a word. Mathias took him to the bathroom without releasing his hand.
“Go on, let’s clean it up.”
Alberto liked the idea of taking a shower with Mathias, so he kept his mouth shut. He stood in a corner while Mathias checked the water temperature and led him inside, following after him. His breath on his neck felt much hotter than the water pouring from the sprinklers, making him twitch everywhere, including below.
Feeling naughty, Alberto was about to warn him he would soon be ready for another round, but when he threw a look over his shoulder, he noted Mathias’s painful expression.
“What?” He twisted his neck to check his back. “Is it really bad?”
Mathias glanced up. “Why are you covered in bruises?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Must be you, then.” Alberto spun around when he saw the alarm in his eyes. “Don’t make that face. We’ve talked about this.”
They had, ever since the first time Alberto had asked him to hold him a little tighter, then a little tighter, then a little more. Mathias always acted like he expected Alberto to call the evil spawn’s name — the safe word — but that would never happen, so he always worried and grumbled under his breath. He was the only one.
“I haven’t touched you in days.” Mathias’s tone turned sombre.
“Oh.” Alberto turned his face away. “I mark really quickly. It’s probably from just now.”
“You don’t have to lie. There’s a red handprint on your ass.”
Alberto didn’t answer. Eventually, Mathias got closer. Alberto glimpsed at his face, and his heart stammered in his chest. There was sadness in his eyes. Sadness, concern, and a hint of pity.
Stasia really was the bane of his existence. The handprint had to be her, from this morning. The bruises, half and half. Alberto had bumped against every piece of furniture at home last week, but Stasia did push him down the stairs on New Year’s Eve when she found out about the key. Alberto didn’t hurt himself, but he really bruised easily, and the marks on his back right now may have made it look like he took a wild tumble.
Then, gentle fingertips lightly grazed his spine so softly, the hair on the back of Alberto’s neck prickled at the touch. He couldn’t help shaking. The sensation of warm water drizzling over his face and shoulders and Mathias’s soapy fingers dancing across his skin… it felt so good, Alberto had to press his hands against the tiles to steady himself.
“Does it hurt?” Mathias asked in a whisper.
Alberto could only shake his head; his throat was blocked up. He meant it: none of these things could ever hurt more than the pain he had felt in the museum’s lavatories, when Mathias glanced up from between his legs, disappointment so clear in his eyes. If Alberto couldn’t have sex with him, then what was he good for?
Today, he had experienced firsthand the depth of Mathias’s grief. He was already a problem because he was a guy and because he was Alberto ; he refused to add to Mathias’s burden. He’d rather hurt in silence instead.
“Look at you…” Mathias spoke against his neck, and Alberto felt weak in the knees. “I’m barely touching you, and you’re, like…”
“Sorry,” he breathed.
But Mathias didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he nipped at his neck and trailed his fingers over Alberto’s back, his arms, and his thighs, until his hands settled on his arse cheeks and he got greedier. Alberto said nothing and shut his eyes, afraid one word from him would make the pleasure stop .
“I…” Mathias began, pressing their bodies together.
“Yes?” Alberto felt his lips against his nape then his breath when he exhaled a sigh.
“Nothing, forget it.”
Mathias started kissing his way down his neck, down his spine, down to his tailbone. Every hair on Alberto’s body now stood to attention. When Mathias squatted behind him and softly nudged him against the wall, Alberto had to wonder: did he know it was his birthday today? He was acting so strange…
Then Mathias’s tongue skimmed across an unexpected spot and Alberto couldn’t repress the sound that broke from his throat. Huffing a quiet laugh, Mathias did it again, more intently this time, forcing Alberto to flatten himself against the wall, fingers clawing at the tiles for purchase. Someone should barge in and tell him what he’s doing is pretty gay, Alberto thought briefly before Mathias’s tongue moved again and he couldn’t think anymore.
Before long, he was reduced to a mess of pathetic gasps and moans. They sounded silly to Alberto, but they drove Mathias wild enough that he suddenly sprung up, swinging him around without a word. They used their hands on each other until they both came, their faces buried in each other’s necks.
His heart racing and his head swimming, Alberto recalled when their eyes had met earlier. The green ring around Mathias’s pupils had caught the light, making them appear on fire, and in their reflection, Alberto had witnessed his own surrender.
Mathias still wasn’t done with him. He kept touching Alberto’s face, his hair… His breath was uneven, yet Alberto wasn’t afraid. He knew he should tell him to stop touching him, that he wasn’t the cuddling type — or the loving type, as a matter of fact. But again, Alberto said nothing. He leaned into Mathias’s touch, ran his fingers over his scalp, and listened to his breathing every time he kissed back… His thoughts turned mellow, and he closed his eyes a moment.
The truth was… Mathias was so hot, not just attractive — and that he was — with his lean muscles as hard as iron and his shade-shifting eyes that always seemed to burn into his own. His skin felt warm against his, and his heart beat fast while Alberto’s was slow. The two of them combined could almost make one normal human being. Mathias was so good to him, so good… Alberto opened his eyes just in time to see him bringing a hand to his face. He brushed a finger against Alberto’s mouth .
“Shh… Stop biting.”
Alberto released his bullied lip and pressed a kiss to the pad of Mathias’s thumb. In an instant, he was pushed against the wall again and pulled into another kiss. A distant voice in his head told him to stop, to stop that nonsense. Soft was not what he wanted. When one gets his hands on the big bad wolf, it’s not to watch him go soft. He wanted — he needed — Mathias to leave him no escape, to hold him so tight that he could barely breathe. That’s when he felt the safest: choking on his own tears, thinking if these arms were to never let go, he’d never have to worry again.
And yet, he kissed back the way he was kissed, too soft, too kind, too much. Stop that now , he wanted to say, his hands feebly gripping Mathias’s shoulders.
Mathias was devouring him kiss by kiss. His chin, his neck, his collarbones, no place was safe. When his lips settled over his heart and his kiss turned into a bite, Alberto had no will to even hiss in feigned anger. He cried out and slammed his hands against the sides of the shower. Trouble, like a spark on dry kindle, had ignited in the depths of Mathias’s eyes. It had propagated like a wildfire when their mouths had met, had ravaged the place Alberto didn’t even recall had any other use than pumping blood throughout his body.
“I can’t stop,” Mathias said, his eyes still burning.
“I don’t want you to stop.” Alberto swung his arms around his neck.
While they kissed, the water drowning any other noises, he faintly remembered a time when he thought it would be hilarious to mess around with Angry Buzzcut, press his buttons, get what he deserved. Alberto had wanted to bewitch Mathias, and now he had; Mathias couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to. He was done for, hooked like a flailing fish at the end of his line.
“Don’t stop,” he murmured against his helpless prey’s lips. “Please, don’t stop.”
For the next ten days, Alberto and Mathias barely saw each other. Paquin had called Mamma and told her he had skipped school to avoid facing the headmaster, which resulted in a week of added detention. His mother was absolutelyshocked. Alberto listened vaguely while she gave him an earful of stuff that she’d probably just printed off the internet, rolling the chain around his neck between his fingers and thinking of Mathias.
Dimitri weirdly took his defence again, saying, “That’s what boys do!”
“What do you mean?” Mamma asked, looking wretched. “What do boys do?”
Each other , Alberto thought.
He felt invincible, but despite all of that, he was grounded for a week. Oh, he understood why. Mamma just wanted to keep an eye on him. After two days of not letting him out of her sight, she noticed not only that he was fine, but that he was even better than usual, and the punishment was lifted. Dimitri, amused by her weakness, commented on it, to which she reacted by narrowing her eyes at his back. That lightened the weight on Alberto’s shoulders. Once Mamma started squinting at one of her men, that meant she didn’t care so much for their opinion anymore.
Alas, Mathias was busy with his mock exams, so the only time they found was at the infirmary between two tests. There, with only a few minutes to spare, they kissed more than they talked. In fact, the entire time, they said little more than Hey and See you later . And yet, Alberto was the least worried he’d ever been. The kisses were intense enough that Zak couldn’t be said to have the monopoly of limp legs anymore. As for the silences in between, they were golden. In all this time, Mathias had not once told Alberto to shut up. All he did was laugh— yes, laugh — when Alberto murmured More each time they parted.
More . He always wantedmore.
Alberto spent ten days in a daze on a different sort of cloud ?—? one he was riding for once. He couldn’t stop thinking about their reunion, imagining where Mathias would kiss him first, how fast they’d remove each other’s clothes, and how Alberto would get him to do it face to face again without looking too keen.
On Friday evening, to his infinite surprise, Alberto heard from Michael again. The short film the Drama Club had shot back in July was nominated for some awards, and Michael, the unofficial director of the film, called to offer Alberto his seat at the ceremony because he was touring France with his boyfriend and his cousins’ rock band and couldn’t make it on time.
Mathias wasn’t free tonight, on account of attending Zak’s birthday celebration, but any opportunity to get out of his own so-called party sounded good to Alberto. He was already dressed in his new Armani and catching dust in a corner, while guests he’d never met shuffled from room to room wishing him a happy birthday. He found his mother and asked — no, begged — for her to let him leave the party.
Mamma played annoyed, but she was struggling not to smile when he clung to her neck.
“You can go,” she said. “But I want you to return home tonight, you hear me? No more sleeping God-knows-where for a while. I haven’t forgotten your little adventure of last week.”
Too happy to get away from that dreadful place, Alberto promised and went up to swap his uncomfortable shoes for his favourite Converse. On his way down, he came across Stasia with that look in her eye, the one that said she’d just talked to his mother and she needed to hurt someone before she exploded. She blocked his way down the steps, caught him as he was trying to squeeze past her, and once she grabbed him, there was not much he could do. She then followed him to the mirror in the hallway where he re-tucked his — now wrinkled — shirt into this trousers and hand-combed his hair back into place.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said with a sigh. “I’m doing this for you, Albertino, for your own good. You need to toughen up. You’ll thank me for this later in life, for sure.”
Alberto turned to face her. “I hope one day you get a new boyfriend and he dumps you into a vat of acid like you deserve. And I hope I can watch.”
Stasia sniggered. “That’s oddly specific. Do you have anyone in mind?”
“I don’t know… Satan, maybe?”
“Satan? So unoriginal.”
He pushed past her to put his coat on. She knocked into him with a grimace.
“Also, if you’re there to watch, does that mean… you’ll be in Hell as well?”
Alberto ignored her and buttoned his coat while humming lyrics from a certain band. Yesterday, he and Mathias played their game, and then Mathias helped him sit on top of Sana’s desk. He stood between Alberto’s knees, pulled his arms around his neck, and they kissed for a long, long time. His skin was so hot, it felt like he, too, was on fire, and they’d burn together.
Together .
Alberto’s new favourite word.
“Hell? Burn?” Stasia looked upset. “What are you mumbling about?” She followed him to the front door. “Is it me, or are you getting even weirder?”
“Yes.” He flashed her a fake smile.
She stared back in confusion. “You absolutely suck today. No fun at all!”
He slammed the door on her mean face. That cloud he was riding was too high, even for winged harpies. Still, he exhaled a sigh of relief when she was out of sight.