I give him the answer I’ve been thinking about forever. “I want you inside me.”
33AXEL
I don't askGabriel if he's bottomed before. I assume he has. He is someone who is not afraid to be sexually curious. Unlike me. And I wonder if I should tell him I've never topped before. Then again, I never bothered to mention that my entire sexual history is four guys, including him, so I guess I don't need to mention this. Instead, when he's ready after I rim him and my lube-covered fingers have him open and panting, I roll on a condom and I slowly and steadily work my way inside.
This feels even better than I thought it would, and I thought it would be incredible. I sweat with the restraint it takes not to grab his slim hips and tug him down until he’s impaled on my cock. But I know what he’s feeling. The stretch, the burn, the struggle to let go and search out the pleasure hiding in the pain. If you don’t hunt it down, you won’t find it. It doesn’t come to you. As I push deeper, another ring of muscle pulsing over my shaft, I realize, as a top, I’m the hunted. My orgasm is actively chasing me, and it’s going to catch me. So when he grips my trembling forearm and presses his eyes shut and gasps out, “Wait,” I’m more than happy to.
I watch him regulate his breathing, and when I kiss the strong neck of his I feel his pulse hammering beneath my lips. He lifts a hand and drops it on the back of my neck, fingers tousling the ends of my hair. “I love you.”
“Not as long or as hard as I love you,mon amour,” he whispers back.
“I think I’m pretty long and hard,” I say, surprising myself. He brings out the absolute devil in me and it’s scary how much I like it.
Gabriel licks the column of my neck, biting down just above my collarbone. “Prove it.”
I move again. And suddenly, I'm all the way in. I've shared my body with him countless times now, but sharing his body… it's magic. My rhythm is chaotic, his hips buck and his back arches like he lives for this chaos so no complaints are coming from the perfect man under me, just moans and French swear words. Or maybe prayer words…
His hand is wrapped around his cock and he’s tugging hard, eyes closed, mouth open, and I whisper every indecent thing I can think of in his ear. Every dirty thought I’ve ever had about him. Every sexual act we’ve yet to explore but is on my list.Ourlist…
“I’m not going to last,” I confess, humiliated.
“I like it fast, baby. Fast is what I do for a living,” he reminds me, but I barely hear it. I’m coming so hard I whimper.
I don’t waste time. I refuse to allow myself to enjoy an orgasm he didn’t have with me. So I pull out and he starts to complain until I slide lower and take his dick, heavy, hard, and vibrating with need, into my mouth. He comes down the back of my throat moments later. We fall asleep almost immediately, sweaty and dirty and completely satiated.
When I wake the sun is a light glow across the corner of the room. My phone, which is on the night table by the condom wrapper, says six. Gabriel stirs beside me, rolling onto his back. I roll onto my side, facing him, and stare. Did we make it through? Is it really that simple? Am I finally lucky?
After a few minutes, he opens one eye and lets out a soft groan. "It's early. Sleep."
“I need to tell you I turned down the job in London,” I whisper, like if I say it quietly, it will make less of an impact. But this is a big deal, and now both his midnight blue eyes are open. He rolls to face me too, tucking an arm under the pillow.
“So what are you going to do about work?”
“Find something else.”
He studies me, reaches out, and runs his fingers behind my ear like he's tucking away hair that isn't there. "Your dad has something else."
“Gabe…”
"Hear me out, okay?" he begs, and I sigh but nod and bite my bottom lip to keep from interrupting. "I'm not saying forever. I'm just saying help him out of this jam. Clean up your asshole ex's mess. It will make you feel powerful, and your dad not only needs you, he wants you. Do it. And then come back to me, immediately, and finish out the season with me. There are only two races left. You could get back in time for Singapore, the last one. And then we can vacation together again. And we'll find you a job together. I'll help."
He looks at me, hopeful, vulnerable, and actually worried that I might say no. I can't. I'm that pushover romantic who will do just about anything my lover asks of me. Luckily this time I picked a lover who looks out for my heart like he does his own. So I nod and sigh. "Fine. I'll do it. It will be some nice money, and a chance to bond with my dad."
“You’re going to charge him?”
“Double,” I say and we both laugh.
I leave the next day before qualifying. Before the race. I hate it because Gabe was achy this morning, and not just from me. His shoulders are stiff from the crash and he canceled a massage for my family dinner so I worry about him the whole flight to Los Angeles, which is stupidly long.
And now we have a time difference between us. Nine entire hours so it makes keeping in touch a chore. But one we both gladly go out of our way to make happen. Los Angeles is a lot of meetings and some contracts. I set up my dad's indie film with a social media team and use every contact I've ever had to book him a bunch of television interviews and even more print, all over the world. We spend the nights together. While Gabriel is already asleep across the world, Dad and I talk and joke and by the end of the week together I feel like any rift between us is gone. He hugs me goodbye at the airport. He's on a flight back to Australia and I'm making the long haul to Singapore. If my flights go just right, I will get there before the race starts.
“Thank you for everything, Axe. I should have listened to you from the beginning. Even if you couldn’t help, I shouldn’t have used that fucker,” my dad says, hugging me tightly. “I love you. And I really like this French kid. Because I can tell he really likes you.”
"Thanks, Dad. It's my fault. I should have helped you. I got hung up on making my own name. I shouldn't have. And if you need me again, I'm here," I promise. "And it means a lot that you like Gabe because he's going to be around a lot. And for a long time."
I kiss his cheek, something I haven’t done since I was a little boy, and he rubs it in like he used to do to delight me when I was six. Then I’m rushing to get to my first gate and start this trip. I haven’t heard Gabriel’s voice in two days. He’s in Singapore now and the time difference is a staggering fifteen hours so we subside on text messages that pop in at all hours of the day and night.
The flights should take nineteen hours and then there's an hour-long drive to the track. But weather fucks my connection in San Francisco and I'm delayed two hours. When I get to the airport in Singapore, I can't find the car I ordered. And my bag never makes it off the carousel. I decide to deal with it later and not even inform the airline help desk, which has a line fourteen people long. I make my way out of the airport into the thick Singapore air and pay a taxi cab double the normal rate to get me to the track. It's a city track so the closest he can get, with all the security zones and road closures, is five blocks away. I have to haul ass the rest of the way by foot and by the time I get to the private security gate, I feel, and probably look, like a wool sock left on a clothesline in a hurricane. Wet, droopy, and smelly.
