We finished the joint in silence—Andre was ruminating on something—then he turned to me and said, “Can you give me a ride home?”
“Yeah, of course.” But when I started off in the direction of his apartment, he corrected me.
“I said, home.”
22. Cool
THE FIRSTthing he did was look the place over, kind of like the first time. I noticed him checking out “his” spots, the end of the couch he preferred, his favorite chair, his seat at the bar. He checked the pantry closet and found his apron still hanging there.
“You didn’t change a thing,” he remarked with astonishment.
“Wishful thinking.”
“I’m hungry,” he said. “You?”
“Yeah.” I just wanted to see him in my kitchen again. He took off his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves, donned his apron. He inspected the fridge and cupboards, and found them sorely lacking. “A man can’t live on mayonnaise and mustard,” he scolded. Even with my meager, misfit ingredients, he was able to pull together a gourmet pasta dish. I was ravenous. I felt as though I hadn’t eaten in months.
“I missed your cooking.” I forgot my manners and talked with my mouth full.
“You need to put some meat on those bones, Martin. Something for me to snack on.”
I hadn’t eaten or slept regularly since he left, but I didn’t mention it. It seemed he knew anyway how much I needed him to take care of me.
“You still got that nice-ass mattress?” he asked after we’d finished. He rubbed his stomach with satisfaction, his washboard abs.
“No, money was tight, so I traded it in for another futon.” Truth, I more often slept on the couch than in my bed. It was too lonely up there without him.
“Don’t play with me, man. I’ve been dreaming of that bed.”
I smiled. “I’ve been dreaming of it too. Not sleeping in it, though.”
He licked his lips. “Mmm, hmm, I smell what you’re cooking.”
I couldn’t stop staring at him. My smile felt like it was a mile wide. I let out a contented sigh. He was here with me. My prayers had been answered. “God, I’m so fucking happy right now.”
His dimples flashed like commas on his smooth cheeks. “Yeah, me too.”
We started in the shower, where I bowed before him like a dutiful servant and made him come like a god. Then in our bed, he gave himself up to me fully. We slept tangled in each other’s arms. Legs over legs, arms over arms, skin on skin, my face nuzzled in his velvety neck, breathing him in.
In the morning he greeted me with breakfast in bed and a blowjob, then asked if he could top me. Some of the other guys I’d been with were rigid about what they would or wouldn’t do, but Andre and I were fluid. He was still exploring his sexuality and learning his preferences. I liked that about him.
He wanted me on my back, knees spread wide, and I was happy to oblige. Like the first time he drove my car, he gave the same attention to priming me for his debut, until I was pawing at him to get inside me. Watching him take control of my body turned me on, and I stroked my stiffening cock as he surged into me, filling me up. I gasped at the stretch and burn that mingled pleasure with pain, the friction of two bodies joining into one.
“Cool?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I groaned and guided his hip with my free hand. Now that he was in, I wasn’t letting him back out.
I lifted my legs and he sunk in deeper, giving me a moment to accommodate his size. With one hand on my chest and the other on the outside of my thigh, he rocked me like he was riding a skateboard, smooth and easy at first, faster as his confidence built. He was in so deep, I felt like he was in my throat, but there was a grace to his technique that other men I’d bottomed with before didn’t have. I savored the friction of his smooth cock against my tender nerves and the pressure of his body slapping into mine. I grunted in time with his thrusts and wrenched furiously on my throbbing cock.
“This good?” he asked, breathless. Beads of sweat collected above his upper lip. His eyes were at half-mast, as if he was drunk with pleasure. I swelled with pride that I could take him to that other place.
“So good,” I breathed, about to come again.
I jerked my cock, approaching climax. He pushed back on my knees to open me up wider, and drove it home. His cries of ecstasy echoed my own, and when he came, it felt like he’d conquered more than just me. We were once again fish-tailed lovers chasing each other.
After he’d taken care of the condom and I wiped the cum off my chest, we collapsed on top of each other. My ass was raw, but I didn’t mind. It was a warm reminder of what it felt like to have him inside me.
“I’ve never done that before,” he said. I could tell his mind was blown, as was mine. I worried we might never again leave the apartment. I lay propped up next to him and drew lines on his chest and abdomen, my canvas.
