Chapter Thirty-Two
Marcello
We stumble to Giles’ bedroom, still kissing.
I almost wish I could be a fly on the wall and watch us as we blindly fumble about – Giles completely naked and my erection tenting my shorts.
We knock into walls and I stab myself in the back with a door handle.
We grunt and groan from each impact but we don’t take our mouths off each other.
But I know I’d rather be in it. In his arms, his lips on mine, his tongue tangling with mine. His hot exhales on my skin. His little moans travelling from his throat into mine.
Finally, we’re where we want to be and I do my best to throw him onto the bed.
Before I join him, I take a moment to look at him lying on his back, one leg bent, his arms up around his head as if he’s surrendering to me, and his dick half-hard pointing to his hip.
His hair is the most out of place I think I’ve ever seen it and his moustache is a little wonky.
Those sea-coloured eyes of his are yet another completely unique shade of green and blue and the ghost of a smile pulls at his kiss-swollen lips as he looks up at me.
“Più bella cosa non c'è,” I tell him.
There's nothing more beautiful than this. Than him.
“What?” he asks with a frown.
“Can I fuck you?” I say and cowardice floods me.
“Yes,” he says and then gives me a quizzical look before rolling over and pulling condoms and lube out of his bedside drawer.
While his arse is in the air, I take full advantage of him, leaping onto the bed and grabbing hold of his backside with two hands. Giles wriggles slightly but then comes to settle exactly where I want him, on all fours in front of me.
“There’s something else I want to try,” I tell him. Or rather, I tell his butthole which I’ve now exposed by pulling those globe-like cheeks apart.
“What?” Giles asks.
I decide to answer him without words. I spit into the crease between his butt cheeks, watch the saliva slide down and then catch it with my tongue when it crests his hole. I use my tongue to catch it and then swirl it around the tight pleated skin there.
“Oh, God, Marcello!” Giles declares, and I like that. I like him saying my name like that. Like I’ve surprised him. Like I’m teaching him something. Like I’m showing him something new and exciting.
“You like this?”
“Fuck, yes. Yes!”
I don’t know what I’m doing, of course. But I decide to eat Giles’ ass like I would a pussy, like he told me to play with his head.
With licks and sucks and kisses. When he starts to push back onto my mouth, I feel a little braver and I press my tongue harder against his opening, telling him what’s coming next.
Bringing my fingers into the mix, I gather as much spit as I can with my index finger before pushing it slowly inside Giles.
“Jesus, Marcello, give me more,” he says when that finger is fully inside him feeling how hot and smooth and tight he is for me.
“Not without lube,” I say and I lean back so I can find where Giles left it on the bed.
In a matter of seconds, I have his hole and my fingers slick with lube.
Just before I slip my middle finger inside Giles, I have this jarring, almost out-of-body experience where I see what I’m doing through a different, older lens.
I have two fingers inside a man’s arsehole.
And not just any man. Giles. Giles. Giles who is Radia’s boss.
Giles who looks like he lifts telephone boxes for fun in his spare time and wears three-piece suits as pyjamas.
Giles who offered to be my training buddy out of the goodness of his own heart.
Giles who then agreed to let me explore my sexuality with him, not knowing that it’s all because of him that I wanted to do so.
Kris was right. It is a mess, but speaking as someone who is no stranger to mess, it’s the most perfect mess I’ve ever experienced. I’m addicted to it. I never want this to stop, this beautiful mess I’m making with Giles.
So, yes, Kris was also right that I have to tell him.
I have to apologise for not being honest earlier.
I have to find out if maybe, maybe Giles feels the same.
Because I may not be an expert in queer sex but I feel like there are hints that Giles does find me attractive.
Especially right now when he starts fucking himself on my fingers.
“Yes, Giles, ride my hand,” I encourage him as I reach for a condom.
It’s only then that I realise I’m still fully dressed, and suddenly, violently, I don’t want to be. I want my clothes off and I want my skin on his skin.
Withdrawing my fingers so I can throw off my T-shirt and shorts, I hear Giles moan as I leave him empty.
“It’s okay, I’ll be back in a second, baby,” I soothe him. “Just want to get naked. Want to feel you everywhere.”
I feel a little brazen saying something like that, but Giles should consider it a preview of what I’m going to say later. Now I’ve made my mind up to do it, I care a lot less about what I do and don’t say to him.
“Please, Marcello.” Giles whimpers and looks over his shoulder at me. I see his other arm is moving. He’s stroking himself.
The thought of him being hard for me again so soon has me pushing my clothes off in a manic fashion, and jumping back onto the bed as quickly as I can. I press the front of my thighs up against the back of his impossibly defined hamstrings, and I squeeze more lube onto my hand.
When my fingers slide back into him, I want to tell him that this feels like coming home. But that would be ridiculous. Nobody has ever referred to somebody else’s arsehole as their home. At least nobody in their right mind.
“Just fuck me already.” Giles arches his back, his head falling lower towards the pillow as he goes down onto his elbows.
“I will,” I say, picking up the condom again with my spare hand. “How do you want it today, baby?”
His arms starts to move again. “I want it hard and rough. I want you to make me feel you long after this is over. I want to hurt when I sit down all week.”
It’s not what I expect. Especially not after calling him baby. But it’s not the wrong response. Far from it.
I can fuck him hard. I can make him feel me.
I am quick putting the condom on and applying lube to it, as well as more to Giles’ hole. He continues to whimper and moan as I touch him there and I have the urge to put my mouth back on the little pink knot of muscle there, so I do.
I kiss him. I flick my tongue over him. I taste the flat chemical flavours of the lube, but there’s still something else. Something both musky and fresh. Giles.
“I can’t… please… Marcello… fuck me!” he splutters, his hips rocking back and forth against my mouth.
I could listen to him beg all day and all night, but when I pull back and see him all slick and wet for me, his strong back arched and his round glutes primed for grabbing, I know I can’t wait any longer either.
“Hold tight, baby,” I tell him. “I’m going to take you hard and fast, but I know you can take it.”
And he does. As I push in steadily, feeling the resistance, becoming clamped by his walls, I hear how it halts his breath and makes his whole body tense.
It does exactly the same thing to me. But then I relax.
Completely relax. I feel his grip on me, and it grounds me to something, somewhere I never thought I’d find in my life.
A purpose, a place where I am wanted, a sense of knowing I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
All of a sudden, I don’t want to fuck him hard and fast. I want to take it slow. I want to make love to this beautiful man.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he sighs, “I’m just waiting for you to fuck me hard and fast like you promised.”
I laugh shyly, which is ridiculous when I’m balls deep inside Giles. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”
“Oh?” Giles turns his head over his shoulder.
“I think I want…” I could say it. I could say those words. But then maybe I would break the spell. Maybe I would pull us both out of this moment. And that’s the very last thing I want to do. “I think I want you to ride me.”
Yes, that’s it. If I give him control then it’s out of my hands. Giles will set the pace. Giles will decide the tone of our… intimacy. And I can watch his perfect body move above me.
“Would you mind?” I ask when Giles hasn’t said anything.
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I can do that.”
As soon as we change positions – me on my back and Giles straddling my hips – I realise my mistake.
This is not going to bury any feelings like I am making love to Giles.
It’s only going to cement them and then build a skyscraper on top of those foundations.
Because Giles has never looked better as he lifts up, finds my dick with one hand and then pushes it inside himself.
His head tips back, his eyes close and his lips part to let a soft moan out as he sinks down. My hands grip his waist and I guide him down my length, a much louder groan escaping my mouth.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” I tell him.
He nods and bites his lip. I wonder, stupidly, if there are things he wants to say to me about how it feels – physically and emotionally – for him, but I kick that possibility away. That’s when he starts to move.
Using those powerful quads, he rises up and then lowers himself, stroking the full length of me. He does it again, just as slow, and then falls into a perfect rhythm.
I feel mesmerised watching him, like I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him even if a plane crashed into his bedroom window. Digging my fingers into his hips, I help him lift up and then lower. I grunt each and every time he has me fully inside him.
“Fuck, those noises,” he says and his eyes find mine.
“I know, I’m noisy,” I say with a coy smile.
“I love it,” he says, a little breathless.
That word. Love. Why does it feel so very close and yet so far away?