CHAPTER NINETEEN
MATTEO
“Okay, spill the beans,” Sean said as I rocked on my feet in the kitchen doorway. He was putting together a salad for us.
“I wanted to ask you something,” I started, unsure of how to approach the subject. He’d given me so much these past few months and I hated asking for more.
“You? Asking for permission?” he teased, spreading cherry tomatoes around the two plates he’d made.
We were getting ready to eat lunch and settle down to finish watching the last two Harry Potter movies.
My father considered reading the books akin to summoning demons, so I’d never gotten to discover such a large part of modern culture.
The books were on my list, but for now, I was enjoying the movies.
I ignored his jab and focused on what I wanted to say.
“I need you to know that I’m going to pay you back.” When he frowned at me, I added, “For the clothes, and rent-free accommodations.”
“Blowjobs–”
“And the hospital bills which I’m sure you’ve received by now. I haven’t forgotten and I’m aware you gave them your information. I need you to know I’m going to reimburse you for everything.”
He blew out a breath, stopped what he was doing and turned to me. “What's this about?”
I rocked on my feet, feeling like a leech. It wasn’t just the money, but he’d given me happiness and asking for anything more seemed unfair. “The piano, it needs some work. New hammers, and polish…”
He chuckled and pulled me in by the back of my neck. He kissed my forehead, his beard tickling my nose. “It’s fine. How much do you need?”
“A hundred should be enough, I think. There is a music store not too far that has everything I need to restore the piano.”
“Alright. I’ll walk over to an ATM before I start work tonight. For now, let's eat and watch the movie.” He retrieved the two plates and made for the couch.
I wanted to say more on the matter, make promises that I intended to make him whole and more, but figured that was a conversation best left for another time.
He had no idea how much he meant to me and I planned to pay him back ten times over.
The fact that he didn’t know about my inheritance and still showered me with clothes and food and spending money meant he was a good person and deserved everything I wanted to give him.
Like every other day, I settled in next to him, his smile radiant as he started the movie, though it didn’t seem quite as wide as it normally was. We ate as if we’d been doing this for years. It surprised me just how settled-in I’d become here in a mere few months, how comfortable with him I was.
The time slipped by quickly and I mourned his absence when he went to work despite him being a few feet away downstairs. I pulled out the sheet music from my backpack and read the notes, the chords ringing in my mind. I was so engrossed in my work that the chime of his text startled me.
SEAN: Were U serious about what U said the other day? About U wanting to fuck me?
ME: Are you a strict top?
SEAN: That doesn't answer my question. But to answer yours–No, I’m vers.
The minutes ticked by, my hand growing sweaty around the phone as I tried to think of something witty to say, but all I could come up with was–I’ve never done it and want to try it and can’t think of anyone else I’d like to do it with.
I've come to understand something about myself recently. I was as horny as any other gay man my age, turned on by the curve of muscular arms or a nice ass, but I didn’t want to sleep with every guy I came across.
I wanted to have sex, suck cock, touch another man, but I didn’t want us to be strangers.
I thought about what Sean had said about religious guilt and was certain that wasn’t the reason why.
I suppose I valued monogamy. But that implied we were actually together, which was yet to be determined.
A million responses floated around in my brain, but I set the phone on the coffee table and tapped “La Campanella” on my thigh.
I couldn’t wait to fix up the piano. It was actually in very good condition for its age. The idea that Sean had gone out of his way to give me an outlet for my music meant more than he could ever know. I picked up the phone again.
ME: Yeah. I want to try it. But only if you want to.
SEAN: Then U better nap.
I did end up taking a nap and was slightly disappointed when he hadn’t sent any follow up texts. I figured he was busy with work, so I took a shower to pass the time.
I sat naked on the couch, the water slowly drying from my body as I thought about Sean and how things had lined up to allow us to meet. It was midnight when he walked in the door. He stopped in his tracks, ran his eyes over my bare skin, and smiled lecherously.
“I’m going to take you being naked on my couch that you’re serious,” he said, locking the front door, his attention never wavering from my body.
“Only if you want to,” I reiterated. “I’m not going to beg for your ass.”
He ran his fingers through his beard, his gaze growing distant. “I need a shower.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a yes or no and resigned myself to sitting on the couch, naked and horny and conflicted about my feelings toward him as the water hissed in the background.
That uncomfortable sensation of being pulled in different directions tugged at my insides.
I focused on the chords in my mind, seeing the hammers striking the strings.
If I concentrated hard enough, I could feel the vibrations.
I was aware the water cut off and I waited for him to emerge, every second feeling like an hour.
When he entered the living room, I said, “I don’t want to pressure you into doing it. When I said you were my guinea pig, I meant it in a good way–”
He cut off my words with a quick, closed-mouth kiss. “It’s fine. I do and rather you do it with someone you're comfortable with. It’s just… It's been a long time for me, so you’re going to have to be careful. Can you do that?”
I bit my tongue to keep from grinning and nodded. “Do what?”
“You just want me to say it,” he said with a laugh. “Fine. Yes, I would like you to fuck me.”
He whipped his towel off and made for his bedroom, his tight butt flexing. Now was a hell of a time to get nervous. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to be doing me, something else I wanted to try but wasn’t sure I was ready for.
“You know,” he called from the other room. “I’ll never get tired of getting one over you on the simple account of my perfect body. Every time I flash it, you stumble over your words and are rendered dumbstruck.”
With a growl, I joined him in his room. I was determined to regain some ground, but the moment I saw him, I lost my bluster.
He was lying on his back, his arms behind his head, a wicked light in his eyes.
I took a moment to really appreciate him.
He was sexy, the sight of all the fuzz and thick muscles and love-handles stirring my cock.
He patted the bed beside him. “Don’t get shy now.”
A thousand clever insults raced through my mind, but I decided I didn’t want to fight this anymore. I slipped in next to him. He turned on his side, his head propped against his palm.
“How do you want to–”
He hushed me with two fingers to my lips. “Dirty talk can be fun, but this isn’t about talking right now. Just feel. Let your gut guide you.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant so I kissed him, our lips smacking. His hand went into my hair, stroking my scalp, the simple touch making me feel…cherished. As if I meant something to him. All our make-out sessions paid off and I took over the kiss, wanting to show him I’d learned something.
“See, Daddy?” I murmured against his lips. “You taught me well.”
He chuckled and licked his way back into my mouth.
Our tongues tangled, battling for control, and I pushed him down into the bed.
I found my confidence and straddled him, his hands running all over my back.
He made a growly sound against my mouth and pushed my legs off him then hooked his around my hips.
His hard cock jutted into my hip, and I rocked against him, my own erection throbbing.
Kissing and touching and rubbing up against each other was its own form of fun, but I wanted more. With a shaky hand, I skimmed my fingers down his taint in search of his asshole.
He gripped my wrist, stilling me. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark in the low light of the room. He dragged in a deep breath, his body quaking for a moment. He released my hand and concentrated on the kiss.
I found what I was looking for, the hot, puckered hole like touching my piano’s keys for the first time. Past all the fuzz, it was smooth and warm and…I couldn’t help the sound I made.
He rasped something and cleared his throat. “Lube.”
I found the pump bottle sitting on the dresser and jumped out of bed to get it. When I returned, he’d shifted onto his stomach, and was hugging a pillow. He flexed his ass playfully and I took my place beside him.
“Too much lube is never a problem,” he murmured. “So be liberal with it. And go slow.”
“Okay,” I said, my throat suddenly dry. I hated the nerves that made me unsure and awkward.
I pumped several squirts on my fingers, and he scissored his legs so that his cheeks parted.
I’d touched my ass in the shower before and decided to do what felt nice to me.
I slathered the lube up and down his crack, wondering if it was cold against his skin.
I spread his cheeks with my free hand and watched mesmerized as his hole flexed under my touch.
The soft hum in his throat fueled me and I pushed at it with my thumb.
“That’s nice,” he whispered. “Keep going.”
I followed his lead and pushed a little harder, my slick digit slipping in. The hot constriction around my thumb was something else and his little gasp excited me. “That’s good?”
“Yeah.”