6. Diego #4
Diego groaned, shifting his hips, pushing down farther on the bed as Frankie slowly began to work a second finger into him.
“Now… where is your prostate… ah ha.”
Diego let out a guttural shout and then a long, sustained moan as Frankie stroked and then pressed against the spot.
When he played with himself, he never assigned words to his parts in his head, in fact, he usually avoided them all together.
But something about having Frankie call his anatomical G-spot his prostate lit him up inside even brighter than the spikes of pleasure that cascaded up his spine every time Frankie touched him there.
“How’s that, D? Feel good?” Frankie asked. He dropped soft kisses along Diego’s shoulder and chest.
“Y…yes… oh, fuck, Franklin,” Diego moaned, slowly beginning to rock his hips down onto Frankie’s hand.
“That’s it, mon chéri … take what you need. Show me how to make you feel good, and I swear, I’ll never stop.”
Frankie made good on his promise, working Diego like an expert musician, pulling sounds and noises out of Diego he didn’t even know he could make.
“I’m close, Franklin, please, I’m so close,” Diego whimpered, and Frankie rolled over on top of him, his leaking erection pressing into Diego’s thigh as he pushed his fingers deeper.
Diego came with a shout that started soft and built and built until he didn’t know if it was pleasure or pain he was expelling.
Frankie held him, doing his best to keep his slick hand off of Diego’s skin. Diego shook in his arms for a few minutes but as he settled back down, he felt arousal stir in his stomach again at the tight press of Frankie’s body against his.
Frankie must have noticed because he let out a low sound, almost like a purr. “You can absolutely say no, mon chou , but… I’d really, really like to taste you.”
Diego searched his face, looking for any sort of hesitation or question, but all he saw was warm, sensual desire.
“Okay,” he breathed, and Frankie slithered down his body, coming to rest on his belly in between Diego’s splayed open legs.
He started slow, tonguing at his dick, and slowly dragging his tongue lower, tracing the small folds with soft licks.
He slowly went deeper, mapping out the inside of Diego like Diego had done to him the few times he’d rimmed Frankie.
It was amazing and affirming and just so fucking wonderful how similar this experience felt.
Frankie slowly worked him open until he could slide two fingers in and then he began stroking his dick with his tongue.
“Oh god, Frankie… I’m not going to last.”
“Good, cause honestly I’m pretty out of practice and my jaw is already starting to cramp,” Frankie commented from between Diego’s legs.
Diego laughed and threaded his fingers through his lover’s hair. He pressed his face down and Frankie let out a soft laugh before he really went to town.
His second orgasm was less shattering. Instead, it felt sort of like he was coming down from a high, but also somehow up from a low. Mellowing out into a beautiful space where he held Frankie, slowly stroking him until he too came with a soft moan, and they slowly drifted off to sleep.
“It was a really beautiful service,” Frankie remarked quietly, and Diego had just enough energy to grunt and squeeze his hand.
They were in the back of an Uber on the way to the funeral reception, which was being held at his mom’s favorite restaurant downtown.
The service had been beautiful, and Diego had cried like the dutiful son he was, even if his mom had died never having accepted that she had a third son.
His siblings and father had been receiving the family when they’d arrived.
Diego held back, giving them all head nods but not bothering to approach since he knew most of the people who had come weren’t there to see him.
Diego hadn’t been back home since before he graduated from college, which had also been the last time he’d seen his father and siblings.
The church the service was being held in was the one he’d gone to as a kid and young teen, but he’d stopped going at fifteen when the youth group he’d been in had condemned one of the members of the congregation for being bisexual.
By then, Diego had begun suspecting he wasn’t a cisgender heterosexual woman, and he’d stopped attending services.
He recognized a lot of people from the congregation at the funeral, and he kept his distance from them as well, standing off to the side and doing his best to be invisible.
For the most part, they didn’t recognize him.
The few people who did approach him merely nodded their heads in greeting, or looked at him strangely, perhaps trying to reconcile the man he was now with the angry, sad child he had been.
Sofia bustled over to sit with them for the ceremony. She held Diego’s left hand and Frankie held his right. Diego tried to ignore the glares his father was throwing at him for not sitting with the rest of the family.
“I don’t think any of the church peeps totally hated me,” Frankie said. “So that’s a good thing, I think. I absolutely love Sofia, and I figure she’s really the only person I had to impress, so I’m fairly sure she’s not going to ban me from future family gatherings.”
Diego let out a small grunt. “No, but the rest of the family might ban me for being both trans and gay.”
He’d tried to approach his father after the ceremony, but the man had taken one look at Diego in his black suit, flanked by Frankie on one side and Sofia on the other, and turned on his heel and walked away.
At least that hadn’t given him the chance to dead name him or use the wrong pronouns like his abuelo and some of the older women from the church had.
At this point, they had to be doing it on purpose because Diego had a full beard and a newly touched-up undercut.
There was nothing feminine about him, and yet some of the attendees couldn’t be bothered to use his correct pronouns.
When Diego tried to introduce them to his business partner and boyfriend, several of them quite literally clutched their pearls.
There were a few younger folks who nodded politely and a few even smiled and introduced themselves eagerly to Frankie, but for the most part, it was about as bad as Diego had assumed it would be.
Unfortunately, the worst was yet to come.
The funeral had been overcrowded with all of the members of the community that weren’t invited to the reception.
His mother had been very active in the church, and she was a part of several cooking and community groups.
The reception was just going to be the extended family, and some of his father and sibling’s business associates, and friends.
When they got to the restaurant, Diego found a mass of people he didn’t know gathered around the food while his family was scattered throughout.
He did his best to make civil conversation, accepting condolences and introducing himself as his mother’s third son.
The responses varied; the conversations were tiresome, and Diego began to lose steam.
By the time they’d made it about a quarter of the way around the room, Diego was exhausted from explaining that he was the trans son who had brought his boyfriend/business partner to his mother’s funeral.
At the halfway mark, he started telling anyone who didn’t already know him that he was just a friend of the family and none of them bothered to ask who Frankie was.
“ Mon chéri, do you think maybe we’ve expressed enough condolences now? It truly doesn’t seem like anyone would miss us if we took an early exit,” Frankie tried to offer, but Diego kept catching his father and eldest brother, Oscar, watching them from across the room.
“I can pay my penance for not having been here for the past six years by making a full circuit around the room. Then we can go,” Diego said.
He placed a strong hand on Frankie’s back and led him to the next group, which consisted predominantly of family.
As they approached the group of tías Diego found himself dropping his hand from Frankie’s back and standing a few inches away.
His earlier conviction to stick it to his family by being openly trans and gay had left him sometime in the past twenty minutes and when one of his aunts pulled him into a hug and at least used his correct pronouns, something inside Diego cracked.
He stepped back from the embrace and introduced Frankie as his business partner.
They all cooed and fawned over him. Diego didn’t miss how Frankie’s lips tightened, but before he could remedy it, a group of tíos surrounded them and the tías launched into explanations in Spanish about “Valeria’s nice young boy, his business in the big city, and his nice-looking business partner. ”
Frankie watched this transpire and his eyes showed a level of language comprehension Diego almost wished he didn’t have.
Diego was just about ready to interject when his father appeared.
“It was very nice of your business partner to come with you… son,” his father said. Diego tried to speak, he really did, but his tongue felt glued to the top of his mouth, and he watched as the light slowly left Frankie’s eyes.
“Of course, sir. I am so terribly sorry for your loss. I didn’t want Diego to have to travel alone,” Frankie said.
His father looked Frankie up and down and then turned to Diego. “Yes, I am glad that… he was not alone.”
Diego’s stupid, traitorous tear ducts chose that moment to unleash hours’ worth of pent-up stress, and he had to turn away.
He listened with only half an ear as his father began asking Frankie questions about the business.
Frankie was the epitome of professionalism and manners.
It made Diego want to sink into the floor.
All he had to do was reach for Frankie. If he just held Frankie’s hand, maybe his father would get the hint and they wouldn’t have to—