Chapter Twenty-Six #2
I know he’s talking about sex. About fucking.
About penetration. About my dick going up his arse.
But I’m going to fool myself a little more that he means something else.
That he wants me in the same way I want him, like he can’t get enough of me, like this is so much more than him showing me what sex is like with another man.
I move my hand to undo his trousers, but I fumble, repeatedly, so he rolls to his side so he can help.
We both look down as he undoes them and pushes them down his hips.
He comes up on a side plank – because of course he does – to slide them down his legs and I take a moment to admire the bulge in his tight white boxers.
As tempting as it is to play with his hard length to see if I can illicit more little gasps from him, my mind, and my hand, wander around his hips and grab hold of one of his butt cheeks. Yet again its firmness and roundness and fullness all take me by surprise.
With his trousers discarded, Giles brings a hand to the back of my head and pulls my mouth back onto his.
I take full advantage of this closeness to let my hand roll over his backside and find the crease in the middle.
I run a finger up and down the tight valley there, pushing down until I find what I’m looking for.
And if I wasn’t certain from what I can feel, I’m very assured by his reaction. A long moan rumbles through him and he freezes, his tongue lost in my mouth.
I pull back so I can watch his face. “Does it feel good if I touch you here, Giles?”
His eyelids flutter. Actually flutter. I am hand-on-heart confident I have never made a woman’s eyelids flutter before, and I like it. I like it too damn much.
He nods.
“Words, Giles, I need your words,” I tell him, my voice gruff and bossy, but I’m starting to realise just how much Giles likes that.
“Fuck, Marcello, yes, it feels good,” he says in little more than a whisper. “Please touch me more.”
It’s good enough, and it’s definitely consent, so I lift my hand up and slide it inside his underwear and resume my journey down his crease, this time from the top down. When I find that tight knot of his, he shudders again and I press down on him.
“I bet you’re tight and strong, even here,” I tell him. Yes, I want a reaction from him – more shudders, more gasps, more of his pretty eyelids fluttering – but it’s also the truth. I haven’t found a part of his body that is soft or giving or less than fucking perfect.
He thrusts up into the pad of my finger that is covering his hole. “More,” he grits out. “Please, more.”
I kiss him with a hunger that feels angry, rageful as I pull down his boxers. At least I try but they get stuck on something and I break our kiss and look down to investigate. His dick. They’ve got caught up on his hard cock that is pointing at the ceiling.
“Well, I’m definitely not used to that,” I say partly to myself, but it makes him look down too.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he mumbles.
I grip his penis, hard, but keep my eyes on his. “Why are you fucking sorry? Look at you. Never apologise for this beautiful dick.”
He blinks at me. “You think it’s beautiful?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Maybe you don’t need any more lessons from me, then. You seem pretty queer to me,” he says and when he smiles up at me it looks somewhat forced.
“I still don’t know what I’m doing with it,” I say and I start to stroke, half-hoping that I am clumsy in doing so, just to prove my point.
Giles says something but it gets lost in my shoulder as he turns his head and buries his mouth in the skin and hair there. He reaches a hand down and completes the job for me, pulling his boxers all the way down his legs.
“Lube,” I say. “Where’s the lube?”
“That giant bottle?” Giles huffs out a brief laugh. “I think we left it in the kitchen after all that.”
“You don’t have any in here?” I ask.
“Yeah, I do,” he says and he pulls away from me, rolling onto his back, but still he keeps his hand under my body and I am inexplicably grateful for it, for him not completely breaking the connection. As he rummages with the other hand in the drawer beside his bed, I take in the full sight of him.
Once again, his body amazes me. It’s a testament to Giles’ hard work and discipline, and perhaps good genes too because I’m almost certain I’d never look like this.
Not now I’m this side of forty. I try to dig deeper into this admiration I feel for his physical presence.
Is it just because he’s so defined, so muscular, so toned?
Do I aspire to be like him, or do I aspire to be with him?
It’s a moment of doubt. A wobble. But then he rolls back, a box of condoms and a tube in his hand, and his blue-green eyes land on me.
They sparkle a little, the swirls of colour mixing and blending and reminding me of the English seaside, that point on the horizon where the sky meets the sea.
I feel a warmth spread through my body, stretching from my toes to the tips of my ears.
With him. I definitely want to be with Giles. Even if it’s just like this. Side by side on his bed, our arms around each other.
Which is not why I’m here. I’m here to fuck him. That’s the deal. That’s what I’ve got to focus on.
I take the lube out of his hand, and then – using considerable strength – I roll him so he’s on top of me.
Completely naked. On top of me.
“Is this okay?” I ask him.
“As long as I’m not crushing you.”
I shake my head. “You’re not. I just… I just want to know if I can get you ready like this.”
“Get me ready?” He lifts up a bit higher. “Have you been doing your homework?”
“Well, yeah,” I admit. “When you went to the bathroom to get ready, I realised how little I knew about, well the ins and outs of anal. If you’ll forgive the pun.”
“I love a pun. Especially an anal pun.”
“That sounds like a sex toy.”
“It definitely sounds like it should be. So tell me about this homework you did.”
“Well, I Googled it, didn’t I.”
Giles frowns down at me. “Googled what, exactly?”
“I think I started with ‘How to have anal sex with a man’ and then ended up on this article sharing the ten things you need to know about topping someone with a prostate.”
“And…”
“Well, I know that I have to get you ready,” I say. “With like lube and my fingers and stuff.”
“I mean,” Giles bites his lips into his mouth for a second, “you don’t have to do that. I can do that myself.”
“I… I want to,” I say, sounding hesitant, which is not how I feel. Well, it’s not only how I feel. “As in I want to, but I want to do it in a way that works for you. Doesn’t make you feel like you’re having a prostate exam.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those. At least not by a medical professional. Or rather, a medical professional who was still on duty.”
That comment has a question rising to the top of my mind, like a newly inflated helium balloon. “How many… How many men have you slept with?”
Giles’ mouth snaps shut and his eyes glaze over, not quite maintaining contact with mine.
“You don’t have to answer that.” I release his dick, realising it’s not as hard as it was a moment ago. This conversation has veered so far away from the happy, horny place I was in. And it’s all my fault. “That was too nosey of me. Forget I said anything.”
“No, it’s okay,” Giles says thoughtfully like he’s still considering what to say. “I… I want to answer honestly.”
“Okay,” I say and wait.
“I think it’s around…” He meets my eyes and I see something I don’t know I’ve ever seen there before: nerves. “One hundred.”
“One hundred?” I blurt.
“And thirty,” he adds.
“Oh. Right.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, of course not,” I say. Because of course it isn’t. It’s actually got nothing to do with me.
“You seem a bit shocked, or, I don’t know, not very happy about it.”
Hearing him say that brings a dull stabbing pain to my chest. I never want Giles to think I’m not happy with him, because, fuck, I’m just this second realising, I always am happy with him.
“I’m not shocked. I mean, I am shocked in that that’s a lot of people and on a completely different level from my, what do the young ones call it these days, body count?
But then I’m also not shocked because look at you.
Look at you. And you’re successful and confident and got your shit together.
It makes sense you’ve had a lot of… partners. ”
“I’m not sure that actually correlates. In my mind, if I had my shit together, maybe I would have had fewer partners but they would have stuck around longer.”
It’s another comment that intensifies the dull ache inside my ribs. “What do you mean by that?” I wrap my arms around his waist.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “So you’re not put off?”
“Not at all. I’m just…” I pause because this is the crux of the issue. This is why I asked in that spontaneous and, with hindsight, totally unnecessary way. “I’m just feeling like I’ll disappoint you. There’s no way I can match that kind of experience.”
Giles smiles down at me, his moustache twitching. “Who says that all those fucks were good? Who says that none of them were disappointing? Who says that I enjoyed all those partners? And also, isn’t that why you’re here? To learn?”
It’s the reminder I need, but when that dull stabbing sensation sinks to the pit of my stomach I realise it’s the reminder I don’t want.
“Yeah, that’s true. That’s why I’m here,” I say in a quiet voice.
“Maybe you need some feedback,” Giles says and he rolls off me so he’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow. “A good teacher should have given you feedback by now.”
“Like a report?”
“Sure, I can do that.” He places a hand on my chest, between my soft pectoral muscles that I stupidly thought last night were looking more defined but as they line up next to Giles’ they feel anything but.
Not that Giles seems to mind as he starts to play with the hair there, his finger stroking and combing his way through it. “What’s your surname?”
“My surname? Why do you need that?”
“It feels more appropriate for a school report.”
“A school report? Jesus, I’ve never had a good one of those.” I snort.
“Well, things can change.”
“Donati,” I tell him. “That’s my surname.”
Giles clears his throat with something like authority but continues to run his fingers through my chest hair.
His eyes stay fixed on his hand’s movement.
“Marcello Donati is an enthusiastic, energetic and conscientious student. He shows considerable initiative while also being willing to take guidance quickly on board. I have been pleased to see him undertake his own research, and have been impressed with his willingness to commit to the lessons and what they entail. Marcello regularly displays kindness and consideration during practical assignments and even goes so far as to make his teacher feel at ease, when required. What Marcello lacks in experience he more than makes up for in passion, initiative and readiness to learn.”
Giles eyes lift to meet mine and for a second I get lost in their sea swirling tones.
“To end, Marcello should be very proud of everything he has achieved thus far and shouldn’t have a single worry about how successful he is or will be, because his performance to date has been more than satisfactory. ”
I blink at Giles, several times. And then I smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Can you write that down? I need to show it to my mum. It’s like the school report she never got but always wanted for me.”
“I meant every word,” he says and his gaze is back on his fingertips raking through my hair, slipping lower and lower. I feel myself get hard.
I also feel myself become very aware of how we are currently lying together. Both naked, our bodies lined up next to each other, my hairy legs resting between Giles’ smooth and muscular ones. It feels… easy. Natural. Nice. More than nice.
“I could print it out for you, certainly. Although I’m not sure what she would say when she actually understands the kind of lessons you’ve been having.”
Mamma. This is the first time I’ve thought about telling her one day that I’m bisexual.
I don’t have a clear idea of how she would react.
She’s never said anything negative about family members, like my cousin Antonella, being queer but I am her only son.
I know deep down she’s holding out for grandchildren.
Would this not shatter that dream even further?
Even though, honestly speaking, that dream has long been out of reach.
Would she be angry? No, surely not. Not Mamma.
“Where did you go?” Giles asks and I realise my eyes are staring up at the ceiling although I’m not really aware of what I’m looking at.
“Just realised that I might have to tell my mum one day that I’m queer.”
“Hmm,” Giles hums and I feel the noise vibrate through his chest and into mine. “That must be a little scary.”
“How did it go when you told your dad?”
“I never did,” Giles says and his voice has shrunk. “He died before I got around to it.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Except it’s also not. I would have liked him to have known. To have known the full me.”
“I get that,” I say. “Shit, I’m sorry. We were all horny and hard and now.” I look down at our cocks – mine half-aroused pointing to my right hip, and his in a similar state resting against my left. “We’re not.”
“I…” His fingernails ever so slightly scratch the soft skin of my stomach and I do everything I can not to flinch. He seems to like it. He seems to want to touch me there. “I’m pretty sure we can turn that around.”
“You still want to?”
“Let’s consider it a review of your homework. I want to find out how much you learnt in that article you read.”
“You know, I always hated exams or tests,” I say, rolling onto my side so I can face Giles. “But I think I’m going to enjoy this one.”