When Bruno arrived, the two of you shared a blunt on the balcony, as Xavier didn’t allow smoking in the condo. I hoped the cannabis would help you to relax and not make you more anxious. It could go either way.
Once back inside, the two of you shuffled around, not making eye contact with me or each other. I supposed you were waiting for me to take initiative. I didn’t mind.
“Are we ready, gentlemen?” I asked and you nodded, still with your eyes darting frantically as though I might try to put you in a cage.
“And where would you like for us to begin?” I pointed out a few of our favorite locations—the dining room table, my throne, the leather couch, the kitchen island…
“The bedroom,” you said, still not lifting your eyes.
“Always a good choice.” I held out my hand to usher you and Bruno into the master bedroom. I turned on the two lamps that lit the room in warm tones that flattered your skin. Once there, I invited Bruno to have a seat on a small sofa which had an excellent view of the bed. Then I turned to you. “Why don’t you remove your clothes, darling?”
You swallowed tightly and glanced again at Bruno. I could feel the vibrations of nervous energy emanating from your body like sound waves.
“Are you here for him or for me?” I asked sharply to refocus your attention.
“For you,” you said, chastened, and bit down on your trembling lip.
“Then strip, Orlando, and present.”
I went to my shelf of the armoire where I stored my favorite instruments and oils. I selected a couple of bottles and a tub of grease Xavier had recommended, all made for sensitive places. I set them within reach on the bed. Our safe word for sexual pursuits was the same as for when I wished to prove my inhabitation, and Bruno already knew it, so there were no secrets between us. You’d used the word only once with me, when I’d gotten too enthusiastic in tickling you, and you felt as though you couldn’t catch your breath.
You shoved your sweatpants down to your ankles and toed them off. Then you turned around slowly for my inspection. I noted a few bruises on your shoulder, as though someone had gripped you and not let go—perhaps a ballerina holding on for dear life. Then you climbed onto the bed crossways to give Bruno a better view and assumed the position I loved best. But this time, your head hung between your shoulders like a shamed dog. That simply would not do.
“Eyes up,” I said with authority. Perhaps I gave my voice a bit of an edge to assert my dominance. I was performing for our guest as well.
You lifted your head and tilted your face to the light, eyes staring up at the ceiling, still trying to avoid the reality of this scheme you’d concocted. I didn’t know where your mind was going, but I wanted you fully present.
“Look at me, Orlando.” I stood in front of you as your eyes snapped front and center to glower at me. Such hostility. A war was raging in your mind between what you wanted and what you thought was appropriate.
“Use your safe word at any time. Understand?”
You nodded. Your Adam’s apple dipped in your slender throat. I’d not seen you this nervous since the first time we made love. Your body hummed with tension, taut as a nocked arrow. Your need for release was palpable.
“Am I…” you began. Your shoulders slumped a little. “Am I the only one who’s going to be naked?”
“Are you ashamed of your body?” I wanted to test the outer edges of your desire to perform. To learn what words and gestures peaked your arousal.
You stole a glance at Bruno, who was slowly stroking himself through his loose pants while glancing between the two of us. His eyes kept zeroing in on your arched buttocks. My prize.
“Answer me,” I said sharply.
“No, I’m just a little… uncomfortable.” You shuffled a little on the bed.
“You’re going to be a lot more uncomfortable soon enough,” I said. I could guess how much you clenched at that promise.
I removed my belt, slowly, to build upon your nervous energy. I tossed it on the bed next to you so you might wonder how I’d use it later. I unbuttoned my pants and slowly unzipped. I took out my swollen erection and stroked it a few times while I, like Bruno, admired the slope of your back and the twin mounds of your muscular glutes. Your eyes centered on my cock—saying the word “cock” now was only a small sacrifice on my part—and I asked if you wanted it in your mouth. You nodded and licked your lips.
“Are you sure?” I asked while caressing your cheek with my thumb. This was still an area where I treaded lightly.
“Yesss,” you said raggedly and opened your mouth to convince me.
“Wider,” I demanded and then used my tip to decorate your full lips. Your tongue darted out and tried to catch my crown, but I kept it just out of reach. I liked to watch you pursue me, your frustration evident in your furrowed brow.
Then I gripped your lower jaw and slowly entered, sliding between your tongue and the roof of your mouth. “Relax your throat,” I reminded, warning you that I intended to go deep. After one long thrust, which gave me only the briefest sampling of your wet warmth, I pulled out.
“How was that?”
You nodded. A bit of saliva had collected at the corner of your mouth, and I wiped it with my thumb. Such a messy boy.
