Page 27 of This or That
Over time, the post-contract craziness wore off and I settled into a new routine. I travel at least once a week and my sound remains popular, but bartending part-time offers enough flexibility to juggle my two favorite nighttime activities. Neither gives me the opportunity to use my degree in management, yet I’m hoping it’ll eventually work to my advantage with my DJ activities—I wish I could call it a career, but I’m not there yet…
The feel of his warm breath on my face depletes my self-control. I can’t refrain anymore when his coveting gaze becomes heated at the sight of how he affects me. “Well, my crazy friends are super busy with the tattoo parlor. Guess they don’t have a life outside of it...” Explaining what I know of how they took over for the original owner, I kiss his face after every three or four words, and my resolve to get out of bed crumbles accordingly. “Besides letting loose and dancing at the club, that is.”
“Seeing their tattoos with my own eyes intrigues me.”
“Mmm… Funny that their tats come up every time we discuss them. Is there something I should know? I mean, your skin’s got no trace of ink.” I arch my brow that I’ve considered piercing with a barbell to spice up my DJ look. Two things stopped me: such a visible piercing might not fit my cowboy persona and my employer at the bar doesn’t allow visible piercings. So, that’ll have to wait, although Claire said that she’ll keep a spot open for me. “Now, curious minds need to know: barbell on your nipple or tribal tat around your bicep?”
He shivers and pouts before hiding his lingering anguish with his signature poker face.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” My hand reaches for said bicep. “That was meant as a joke. You know that, right?”
“Yeah… No… I…”
I tighten my hold on his arm and shake it. “You’re clamming up again.” He can’t react like this and expect me to drop it, can he? “Talk to me, Mike.”
He swallows with a strangled noise, lowers his beautiful green eyes for a split second, and sighs when they raise to mine. “I’m the one who should apologize.” He pecks my cheek. “Apparently, I’m still not over it.”
“Over what?”
And just like that, our mundane conversation about my heavily tattooed friends shifts to a heavier one that I didn’t anticipate. With great difficulty, he confesses how his childhood dream got crushed in a millisecond when the young prodigy fell off his horse during an equestrian competition that he was favored to win. Countless painful surgeries helped save his right leg—plastic surgery erased most of the scars—but he couldn’t walk and was sent to a private clinic in Switzerland, where his boarding school was.
“That’s how I met Matteo, who had been in a terrible car wreck. We bonded over physical therapy while my father resented me from afar.” He shrugs, tears welling in his beautiful eyes.
Hurt settles in his facial features; for once, he doesn’t try to hide his emotions that he obviously considers a weakness. He wipes the threatening tears with his forearm. The loud sigh that follows sounds more relieved than the previous one.
“My father’s a despicable person, but my mom’s kinda my best friend. Shrinks said it shouldn’t be that way, but it works for us, so screw them! She leads a hectic life and I don’t get to see her much, but I think she always felt the need to compensate for his lack of humanity.”
Wow, Mike’s old man sounds like a carbon copy of my parents. Bastards!
I hope that’s not where the connection I instantly felt with Mike lies.
Nah, we put our chemistry to the test. Parents are out of the equation, sort of.
I can tell that he isn’t interested in my pity, nor that I broadcast my own trauma. He knows we all have our own shit to deal with.
It’s a slippery slope, though. Guarded Mike took another shaky step towards me, and I salute his bravery. Wary of saying the wrong thing after he revealed something so intimate, I wait to find an opening to lighten the mood. Teasing him about some of his expressions is one of my favorite pastimes. It’s my way of proving that I pay attention to everything he says. The thing is, neither of us seems to be motivated to share too many personal details. My knee-jerk reaction the first time I saw his place on 11thStreet led to a short convo about his big-shot criminal lawyer dad and privileged international upbringing after his parents’ divorce. To reciprocate, I simply said that my parents weren’t in the picture anymore. It led him to believe that they were dead, which isn’t far from the truth. That’s enough for now.
“Hence, I hate needles. So, I’ll admire tats and piercings from a distance.”
“Did you truly say ‘hence’? Who says things like that?”
“I do, asshole.” His large frame covers mine, and he trails open-mouth kisses across my bare chest. At once, the traitor grips the pillow behind him and throws it at me. I welcome the assault and fight back with all I’ve got.
Minutes later, his hearty laugh warms my heart. He murmurs a thank you.
“Anytime, baby.” I stroke his hand with my thumb.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about our conversation in the car, after Matteo’s birthday. I thought it would take more time for me to come to terms with my attraction to you. I know I freaked out at first because you’re a dude. But I like what we have, and that’s more important than your gender. I mean it. If the rest of the world doesn’t like my choices, so be it. So… here’s my take on the situation. I learned to live with a bigoted father; I’ll learn to deal with sideway glares, offensive comments, and judgmental strangers. It might not be easy, but I’m ready. I switched careers to be happier. Switching teams to be with you has made be happier, too, so far. This is my life. I’m done pleasing others.”
I kiss his forehead, then watch his chest muscles tense, biting my lip to suppress the need to lick his skin.
Damn, I can’t keep my hands and other body parts off of him… Well, one body part remains clueless as to when it’ll have the chance to take his virginity. That’s a topic we haven’t broached since he decided that we should stay at my place for a change… after his first of many blowjobs, which was otherworldly.
All the more reason not to push my luck. The fact that Mike talks about fucking me, or me fucking him, without his eyes drifting away means that he’s getting accustomed to the prospect. At times, my craving becomes overwhelming and I almost cave. Then, I remember that I shouldn’t be selfish; it should be his call.
So far, he’s timidly initiated things, which I’m grateful for. To say that ass play comes naturally would be far-fetched.
When two guys get naked, that’s bound to happen. Nothing wrong with that. One of the perks of being attracted to dudes is that they’re basically horny 24/7, so you might as well take advantage of it, right?
