Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Mateo
I’m drinking coffee when Florian comes into the living room.
“I can’t find the enema kit or condoms,” Florian says.
“You, uh…” I cough.
My coffee goes down the wrong pipe, and Florian pats my back.
“Sorry,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster when I am no longer hacking.
My face is probably red, but Florian’s gaze is tender.
“The enema kit,” Florian says. “It is not in the bathroom or in my drawers.”
“Oh.” I try to steady myself.
“And no condoms or lubricant either,” Florian says. “I looked in your bedside cabinet drawer.”
My mind manages to function.
Florian is expecting to find an enema kit in the bathroom. He’s expecting to find condoms in my bedside drawer. He’s expecting…
Oh, God.
Florian wants to bottom.
Sweet, innocent Florian who is a virgin wants to bottom. And he’s wondering why he can’t find any signs that we had sex in the apartment.
Lust courses through me, and it’s all I can do to not lead Florian to the bedroom right now and make all his dreams come true.
Most men I meet expect me to bottom, and to be honest, that’s what I’ve mostly done. I’m a bit too short, wear a bit too much makeup, and the tall athletic guys I meet who are into that want to fuck me. Well, after I give them a blowjob.
I try to think of a reason why there wouldn’t be either of those things in this apartment. Florian already believes we’ve had a lot of sex in the past. So much, in fact, that we barely talked.
There definitely should be those things in the apartment.
Well, not necessarily, an enema kit.
Not every man uses that, and I would never require that someone did.
But Florian is so sweet and so serious, and of course he would research gay sex. Of course, he would want things to be as clean and pleasant for his partner as possible.
I take his hand and place it over my heart. “You are so incredible.”
His face flushes, and he gives me a shy smile.
“We, uh—” I hesitate.
His eyes round in a way I don’t like, and uncertainty that shouldn’t be on his face appears. The man is so trusting.
I should tell him that this was all a fabrication.
Florian isn’t attached to a heart monitor anymore.
He’s been cleared to go home.
He is home.
I have his family’s phone numbers, and I can tell him the truth, then text his family to come over.
Yes, I know exactly what to do.
I don’t of course. I never do the sensible thing when it comes to Florian.
“It’s my fault, actually,” I find myself saying. “I left the supplies at the hotel that we were staying at for your last away game.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Florian. But we don’t need them now.”
“Because my memory hasn’t returned yet.”
“It wouldn’t be right,” I say softly.
None of this is right.
God, I am lying, lying, lying.
I step back. I rake my hand through my hair.
“Your hair is beautiful already, Mateo,” Florian says.
“Oh.” I nod more times than necessary. “Good.”
He gives me a beatific smile.
“You know maybe—” My heart thuds. “You’re feeling better. And maybe you should learn some things.”
“I love learning things,” Florian says enthusiastically.
“I—”
I can’t tell him.
I can’t.
I should. I know I should. But I can’t.
“Maybe later.”
Florian gives me the cheerful smile he always gives me now. “Let’s go to the pharmacy.”
“The pharmacy?”
“I noticed one when we drove to the apartment.”
“You did.”
“I was trying to remember,” Florian says. “I was hoping something would trigger my memory.” His eyes round. “Maybe the pharmacy will trigger me!”
“Well.” I look down.
This is bad.
“We didn’t—” I pause. “We only went once before. We, uh, bought a generous amount of condoms the first time we went.”
Florian views me happily. “Because we knew even then that our love was so strong that it would carry us through a whole bag.”
“Yes.” I nod multiple times. “Exactly.”
“And then for the next five weeks we barely talked and just had sex.”
“Well. We did talk some,” I say. “Not about family history. But other things.”
“Like ‘harder, harder,’ and ‘faster, faster,’” Florian says, and his eyes go all dewy.
My trousers tighten.
“Yes,” I say faintly.
“Well. Let’s go to the pharmacy now.” Florian kisses my cheek. “The doctor said I should remember soon. I don’t want you to have to wait long until you can enter me again.”
“Ieqwhfkhar.”
Florian blinks.
“Sorry.” I cough again. “Maybe we should wait longer.”
Florian looks puzzled, then his gaze drops to my trousers. His eyes round. Then he grins. “Oh.”
“Maybe five minutes,” I say.
He smiles happily. “Okay.”
And then, heaven help me, he ducks down to my you-know-what. He traces my bulge with a finger. The touch is so light, barely discernible, but I harden and harden.
“I promise to get better soon,” Florian promises.
Florian is speaking to my cock. My super hard cock.
“That is not helpful.” I grit my teeth.
Florian moves up quickly, because, you know, he is a world-class athlete, and he chuckles. “Sorry, Schatz.”
I blink.
“I didn’t used to call you that?” He frowns.
My breath quickens. He probably called me some very German thing just now.
“You, uh, wanted to call me something Spanish. Because of the whole Puerto Rico thing.”
His eyes round. “I called you Mi Amor.”
“How—?” I press my lips together. Florian doesn’t speak Spanish, but ‘mi amor’ isn’t that uncommon a phrase.
Florian looks delighted. “That’s what I called you? Really?”
I nod helplessly.
“Maybe it was a trigger!” Florian sweeps me into his arms and twirls me around the kitchen.
My breath vanishes. His dark blue eyes look at me with such affection that I can do nothing else but agree. His eyes dip to my lips, and I know he is thinking about kissing me.
He doesn’t because he is a gentleman.
Instead, he steadies me. I am breathless. All I want is to close the distance between us.
In the next moment, Florian is slipping my coat over my shoulders. He zippers it up.
“Let’s get that enema kit, mi amor.”
“O-okay.”
We’re soon taking the elevator down to the ground floor, then going to the pharmacy. Florian leads the way thankfully, and I try to look like I’ve totally noticed this building before, even though I live in Somerville and nowhere near Seaport and its fancy new glass buildings.
Florian takes my hand as we exit the building.
Oh. We’re doing that again.
His large hand is clasped around me. No gloves can compare to the feel of his fingers.
My breath quickens again, and I must look distressed, because he nudges my shoulder with his. Because the thing I need to not spontaneously combust is obviously more Florian touching me.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know you are eager to begin that side of the relationship again. I feel healthy. I am sure my memory will come back soon.”
“That’s, uh—”
“Reassuring?”
“Yes. I do want you to remember again, Florian.”
Florian smirks, then he opens the pharmacy door for me and ushers me inside, his hand on my back.
The aisles are pharmacy-bright with signs everywhere. I blink into the bold primary colors and fluorescent light.
A few people look in our direction. I hope they do not recognize Florian.
Florian is unconcerned with that possibility. He looks around. “Which aisle, mi amor?”
“I’m not sure. We, uh, went to another pharmacy. The first time. Closer to the arena.”
“Oh, that wasn’t discreet of us.”
“I-I suppose not.”
“We loved each other a whole lot,” Florian says, his voice solemn, the kind you hear politicians make on occasion. “Once we met, we knew.”
I nod my head, but something stings my eyes.
Because I remember what really happened.
Maybe Florian sensed even then that I would destroy him. That I would make him out himself, however unintentionally.
Shit.
Florian takes my hand again and marches me through the pharmacy. A man in a sky-blue polo is stocking vitamins.
“Sir.” Florian clears his throat. “Where can we find the sex equipment?”
The pharmacy worker halts his stocking. He stares at us.
“Equipment?”
“Yes.”
“Right.” The pharmacy worker steps away. “I’ll show you. It’s, uh, in the back aisle.” He leans toward Florian. “We like to be discreet about those items.”
“Ah.” Florian glances at me. “That is why we could not find it, mi amor.”
The pharmacy worker’s gaze drops to our linked hands.
I tense, but Florian squeezes my hand.
The pharmacy worker proceeds hastily down the aisle, at a rhythm closer to running than normally used.
“He is a very healthy man,” Florian says to me.
“Yes.” I double my steps, trying to keep up with Florian’s long steps and the man’s quickened ones. “He, uh, works in a pharmacy.”
“Perhaps I should ask him about his opinion on vitamins later.”
“We should probably just buy the, uh, items, and go back.”
Florian looks sad. “I don’t think my memory will return that quickly.”
“I-I know. I meant—” The room heats. Maybe the pharmacy worker has led me straight to hell. But that can’t be right, because Florian is beside me, and I already know there is no sweeter man than him. How could I have ever misjudged him?
“So these are our condoms.” The pharmacy worker gestures to his right.
I grab a small box quickly. “Thanks.”
“We require an enema kit and lubricant.” Florian eyes the condoms. “And your nicest condoms.” He takes the condom box from my hand. “I assume the highest quality condoms do not have the store’s name and the word ‘bargain’ on them?”
My face heats.
“Well, uh, you’re right,” the pharmacy worker says finally. “Generally the cheapest products are not also the highest quality.” He gives an odd high-pitched laugh. “But that would be convenient.”
Florian nods solemnly. “It would indeed be.” He eyes the long row of condoms. “What would feel the nicest?”
“It’s really not important,” I say.
Florian shakes his head. “Of course, your happiness is important. You will have a piece of plastic squeezing you.” He frowns the frown of a man who has no interest in topping and shakes his head.
“Oh, you’ll be the one who—” The man looks at me. His eyebrows move up, then he calms his expression—somewhat—and shoots me a smile. “Well, uh, thin is probably what he wants then.”
“Excellent.”
“And then it’s just a matter of size. How long is your—”
“Thirteen centimeters,” Florian says instantly. He winks at me. “I was paying attention.”
“Thirteen?” The pharmacy worker gasps and steps back. “That’s—”
“Centimeters are smaller than inches,” I say. “It’s, uh, a European practice I believe.”
“Oh, no. Most of the world uses centimeters,” Florian says.
“Well, why wouldn’t you if you can have a bigger number?” the pharmacy worker says.
“The rest of the world is wise sometimes,” Florian says, as the pharmacy worker takes out his phone and does a calculation.
He beams. “I’m thirteen centimeters too! Wait until I tell my wife!”
“Cool,” I murmur.
“You want a regular fit,” the pharmacy worker says. “Though actually they sometimes can be labeled classic or snug fit too. It depends on the brand.”
“We want the best brand,” Florian says.
The pharmacy worker removes an expensive box and hands it to Florian.
“We want a lot of condoms.”
The pharmacy worker blinks, then grins. “I like the way you think.” He grabs the largest available bag of the same condoms.
“Thank you, sir. I also require the enema kit and lubricant.”
“Right.” The pharmacy worker does his blinking thing again. “I, uh, don’t have personal experience with enema kits. Not of course, that there’s anything wrong with using…” He shakes his head. “Well, hygiene is good! We have a whole aisle of soap and body wash. Everyone likes to be clean.”
“We only require an enema kit at this time,” Florian says.
The pharmacy worker nods. He looks lost, and I wonder if anyone has asked him for an enema kit before. He soon brightens though and ushers us further down the aisle to a small selection.
“I want the most expensive one,” Florian says.
“And that is an attitude that we at GoodPharmacy appreciate,” the pharmacy worker says formally. He hands Florian the most expensive enema kit, and then a lubricant that apparently the pharmacy worker does have personal experience with and recommends.
I do my best to not sink into the speckled vinyl tile floor as Florian offers his gratitude to the pharmacy worker, then pays for our sex equipment.
We walk back to the apartment, Florian clutching the too-thin plastic bag in one hand and my hand in his other.
“I want it to be good for you, mi amor,” Florian says to me.
“You are a very sweet man,” I say faintly.