Chapter Eighteen #2
“I think I’d like a glass of the wine, or a beer, or something to calm my nerves a little.”
“You’re nervous?” I move to the fridge. I suppose I’d been so preoccupied with my own anxieties I’d not stopped to think about how Marcello could be feeling.
“I mean, yeah, only a huge fucking amount.” He laughs nervously.
I retrieve two beers and open them. As I hand one to Marcello I hope I also have a reassuring smile for him. Ideally one that hides my own fears about… whatever this is.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything at all.”
Marcello rolls his shoulders back. “Oh, we do,” he says firmly. “I want this to happen.”
I blink. “You do?”
“Yeah, I mean. I want answers. I don’t know if it’s become some new hyperfixation for me or if it’s that mid-life crisis we were talking about but I really feel like I just need to know… what’s going on.”
I lean back against the counter. “You know, it’s okay to not know,” I say, gently. “To not have a label. To just be uncertain, questioning or curious. You don’t have to force yourself into a box. I don’t know much about labels, but I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to be restrictive.”
Marcello's hand lowers the bottle of beer before it touches his lips. “Are you… are you having second thoughts?”
“No!” I say too quickly and too loudly. I lower my voice. “I just want you to not get all stuck in defining exactly what you are because, you know, it’s possible you may not get all the answers you want.”
Marcello takes a pull from his beer and then rests it on the counter. “I hear what you’re saying,” he nods, “but ultimately I just want to know… what it’s like. What sex with a man is like.”
I can’t tell if I’m impressed or intimidated with how comfortably he can vocalise what he wants. Probably both.
“Okay,” I say, and then I take my own swig from my beer, and count to three in my head. “Then I think we need some rules.”
“Rules?”
I wince. “Boundaries is probably a better word. Just some guidelines for us both so things don’t get… messy.”
Marcello’s face quirks into a very handsome smirk, his treacle brown eyes brightening. “I don’t mind getting messy.”
I give him the admonishing look I feel I’m supposed to. “I meant in a non-physical sense.” And that’s all I’m prepared to say because I think I’d turn to ash if I actually said “emotionally” like I actually mean.
“Okay, so, rules.” He nods at me as if to start defining them.
“Well, obviously we have to both consent to… whatever we do.”
“Obviously.”
“And, you should tell me things you don’t want to do,” I add.
His eyes drift to the ceiling in thought. “I can’t think of anything right now, but I’ll let you know if something comes up.”
“Really? You can’t think of one thing you don’t want to try?”
“Not right now,” he says very casually before taking another drink of beer.
I swallow, absorbing that.
“I’d also really like it if we could try to keep things as normal as possible in the gym.”
“Oh.” Marcello pushes his backside off the counter he was leaning against. “Don’t worry about that. I won’t be expecting kisses in between sets or a cheeky hand job in the shower.”
That blush returns. For fuck’s sake. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh?”
I look down at the floor. It is very clean. “I was referring more to us staying… friends. I guess that’s the number one rule I want us to have. We do what we can to stay friends, no matter what we’re doing… in my bedroom.”
Marcello’s eyes brighten again. “Are we going to do it in your bedroom?”
“Where else would we do… it?”
“I don’t know. Queer sex is a complete mystery to me.”
I put down my bottle of beer. “You know, it’s not that different to not-queer sex.”
“It’s not?”
“Not really. It’s just two, or maybe more, I guess, people having fun with each other’s bodies.
In bedrooms, or elsewhere. It’s about giving and receiving pleasure.
It’s about touching and feeling and…” I drift off when I notice Marcello is inching closer to me.
Each small step he takes seems to make him loom taller above me and my head tilts up to keep track of him.
“Keep going,” he prompts, looking down at me with those warm brown eyes of his that are slightly hooded now.
“No, that’s pretty much what I wanted to say.” I swallow again and feel my Adam’s apple move. “And that I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. I like training with you. I hope you feel the same?”
Marcello nods and his eyes widen. “Absolutely. And it won’t change things. It’s not like we’re dating. It’s just sex. It may not be my best quality, but I am pretty good at keeping sex separate from feelings and will always try to make sure things don’t get awkward between us at the gym.”
I ignore the ache in my gut at hearing this. “I can do that too,” I say, truthfully. Because I have in the past. It just remains to be seen if I can do it with Marcello.
“Okay, so going back to the rules,” he says, eyes still fixed on me. “Can we kiss?”
“Err, yes, I guess,” I mumble because apparently words are too difficult for me when I’m so surprised, and suddenly really turned on.
That pulls him back ever so slightly. “Do you want me to kiss you? Or would you rather I didn’t?”
Kissing. I honestly hadn’t thought much about kissing.
I’d thought extensively about fucking and sucking and licking and jerking, but I hadn’t thought much about kissing.
I definitely hadn’t imagined that Marcello would want to kiss me, but as I watch his gaze dip down to my lips, I start to think that maybe he really does want to kiss me.
Do I want to kiss Marcello?
I look at his lips. They’re rose pink and big – not full or plump but just not small – and I know only too well how wide they stretch to accommodate his dazzling smiles
Yes. Fuck yes, I want to kiss Marcello.
“We can kiss,” I say, and I’m impressed with how relaxed I sound, how successfully I have disguised my desire.
“Okay.” Marcello gives me another one of his half-shrugs and then he leans forward, his mouth coming straight at mine.
“Wait!” I put my hands up on his chest and stop him before we make contact.
“What?”
“We didn’t finish talking about rules.”
Marcello’s eyes close and I swear I hear a little groan of frustration. “I mean I know hetero sex has a terrible reputation for consent but I didn’t realise just how much discussion queer sex would require before actually getting on with it.”
With my hand still on his chest, feeling the warmth and soft sturdiness of him, I push him back a little. “This is important.”
He lifts his shoulders. “You’re right.”
“I' m sorry. What other rules should we have in place?”
I open my mouth but no words come. I can’t think of any. He says we’ll stay friends no matter what happens. He’s made it very clear what the sole purpose of these meet-ups is. He’s told me that nothing is off limits…
Hmm, that. I should probably check if he really means that.
“You know, if you’re not comfortable with anything, you need to tell me,” I say eventually.
“I will and I expect you to do the same. Just because you’re the teacher in this dynamic doesn’t mean you have to do things you aren’t comfortable with.”
“Do we… do we need safe words?”
“I don’t think so. It’s not like we’re going to be role-playing or doing anything kinky. Let’s just agree that ‘no’ and ‘stop’ mean exactly what they mean.”
I blink away the swell of desire – and arousal – that hearing Marcello say, “role-playing or doing anything kinky” brings me and I fix my eyes on him. “Okay, then I think it would be wise—”
But I don’t finish my sentence because Marcello has taken a long stride to press his body against mine and crash his lips down on my mouth. A mumbled “Enough talking” is barely audible before my heartbeat starts to roar in my ears.