I just wish I were better at staying true to my word.
CHAPTER 11
Marlon
Paolo does something to me.He’s effortlessly charming, insanely handsome, and just weird enough that I don’t hate him for his perfection but rather find him interesting. I’ve dropped my rules about no kissing and no cuddling fairly quickly.
I’m trying very hard to move on from Freddie—holding myself back like I’m saving myself for someone whom I can never have is pitiful. I shouldn’t deprive myself of joy because I’m holding out hope for a hopeless cause.
And so, now, I’ve let Paolo be a bad influence on me. We’re at the cinema, watching some superhero movie that I don’t care about, and my fly is unbuttoned. It’s a good thing I have no interest in the plot, because I haven’t seen any of it. As soon as the lights went out, Paolo pushed my popcorn aside and stroked my crotch. Feathery light touches, never anything drastic, but incessant and just enough to get me all tingly and squirmy.
He kept that up until I eventually couldn’t hold in a moan anymore and pushed my hips against his fingers, silently begging for more. Paolo gave me a satisfied, wicked grin, then began opening the buttons on my jeans, torturously slow, only occasionally allowing his fingers to touch the cotton of my boxer briefs underneath.
I’m writhing in my seat, biting my teeth so hard it can't be healthy, when finally, a big explosion occurs on screen, blasting the theatre with sound.
“Please,” I beg, ashamed but unable to stop myself now that I know I won’t be heard. “Please, oh jeez, Paolo?—”
He leans over to me, lips so close to my ear but not touching. “Please what, sunshine?”
I swallow hard. I’m still not comfortable talking about these things. Sex things. My family is too upper middle class for me to have any kind of chill in that area. “Touch,” I groan. “Please. Touch me.”
Paolo slides from his seat, onto the floor so he kneels in front of me, and my breath catches in my throat. I’m glad we went for an almost empty afternoon showing and chose the last row of seats, but even so, my heart races in a mixture of terror and arousal.
His thumb presses into the soft skin under my mushroom top, where I’m most sensitive, and even through the fabric the feeling is so intense I have to bite my wrist to keep myself quiet. He sits on the disgusting floor like he doesn’t have a care in the world, innocently smiles up at me, then does it again.
Oh, god. This will be embarrassing in about thirty seconds if he keeps this up. “Shit,” I hiss and jerk away from his touch. “Stop it unless you want me to come in my pants!”
Paolo cocks his head like he’s considering his options, then he lays a soft line of kisses all the way down my shaft, presses his nose into my balls, then gets up.
I blink up at him, confused. He doesn’t need to leave, I just want him to go slower. “Where are you going?”
“Weare going to the gents’.” With a grin, he holds out his hand and hauls me up as soon as I grip it. “I want to hear you as you come.”
My entire face heats up because yes, I’m loud during sex, and I’ve yet to find a way to keep it in check. It’s still embarrassing to me that I’m so needy, that my desire is so obvious to anyone I’m with. But I still follow him. Now is not the time to be squeamish.
I barely manage to fumble two buttons on my jeans closed, arousal and shaky fingers getting in the way. I just hope we won’t run into anyone out there. The men’s room is only around the corner, but still. I’m sure anyone with eyes can see immediately what I’m up to.
Paolo pulls me along and does a quick check of the bathroom, then pulls me into one of the stalls. I’m still flushed, and of course he notices it immediately as he pushes me up against the door. “Fuck, Mar.” A quiet sigh and a soft smile, a tender hand on my face. “You’re ruining me.”
The sweet moment is over before I can let myself fall into it, as Paolo tugs down his trousers and pants and I hastily do the same. As soon as our erections touch, I let my head fall back and groan. I let him take the lead and arch into his touch, my eager cock producing the first drops of precum.
When Paolo’s strong fingers close around both of us, the moan turns into an almost-scream, and then I rock into his hand, lust-drunk and hazy with need.
It’s over soon, too soon, both of us desperate for release, our mouths crashing together in a rough kiss, needy and determined. I’m stronger than him, I’m pretty sure, but I’ve never tested it. I love when he manhandles me. Pushes me into position. Makes it clear what he wants.
His head drops to my shoulder once he’s spent and we breathe heavily into the silence for a couple heartbeats. “You know,” he eventually says, into my shoulder, and I can feel his smile. “You didn’t call for him just now.”
My heart stumbles and something twists in my stomach. “Oh,” I manage. “Wow.” It’s good that it’s finally happened, ofcourse. I was so embarrassed by it for such a long time. Crying out for a man who doesn’t want me, while I’m with a man who clearly does want me. What am I like?
But there’s a bittersweet twinge, too. It means letting go of the daydream I’ve held on to for way too long. Of the boy I grew up with turning into the man I grow old with.
Paolo hooks a finger under my chin and makes me look at him, warm gaze in his dark brown eyes, then he kisses me softly. “You make me very happy,” he whispers, a rare display of vulnerability from him.
I kiss him back, not quite as soft, but full of determination. I make him happy. He can make me happy if I let him. “You’re making it hard to think of anything but you and your hand.”
He laughs quietly, the huff of warm breath tickling my sensitive skin. “Glad to be of service. Now, let’s get cleaned up and see if we can’t go for a second round back in there.”
I playfully swat away his hand, which has been inching closer to my exposed, sensitive cock. “We can’t get arrested for public indecency, it would kill my mother.”
