“I’ll never break your heart.” I promise.
“You break hearts left, right and centre, I can tell. What about your fuckbuddies? Would they not miss you if you just broke up with them?”
“Fuck buddies?” I smile.
“Yeah, you said yesterday... or Bea said... fuck, I can’t remember.”
“At college I hung out with this guy Aaron in my course. He’s in a wheelchair. A mechanic in an electric wheelchair. He’s bloody awesome, and gayer than you and me. We meet up once in a while and fuck, but he’s almost always booked up with Grindr dates and he belongs to a sex club in Manchester. Will he miss me? Nah. I’ll still chat to him and we keep in touch. I sometimes mess around with a guy called Josh, but he’s in an open marriage anyway. Geoff? Geoff calls me the worst shag ever. I have an award he gave me somewhere.”
“So, you want to mess around with me?”
“No.”
“It’s Christmas. Please, don’t dump me on Christmas Day, lying naked on top of me with your dick between my legs.”
I wonder how he does that, how he can soothe me and excite me, and break me and put me back together, all whilst lying naked on my bed and making me laugh.
“I’m not dumping you, you fool.”
“Then, can I stay tonight?”
“I can’t let you stay. You drive a flipping Mini! What kind of madness is that? You work for a bloody luxury car business, and drive a Mini?”
I’m joking, of course, and he pouts before he kisses me.
“My Mini is the best. I bought it on a lease with my first paycheque, because that’s all I could afford, being stuck with a crippling student loan and an entry-level sales job.”
“You should just pay it off.”
“I did. First paycheque from Lambert and Gloss. Got myself a nice bonus that month.”
“Well done.”
“High five.”
“We are not five years old, Luca.”
“No, thank god for that.”
“Have you seen my phone?” I ask, as the familiar message ping rings through the silence.
“No idea.” he says, and stretches like a cat, as I lift myself off him. He’s naked and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, more beautiful than I have ever seen him.
Andreas Mitchell. Naked. On my bed.
It hits me that I’m in love with him. I thought I might be, but I had pushed that thought away. I have known him, what? Twelve hours? What kind of fool am I?
“You are staring at me again.”
“Can’t help it. I like this fantasy.”
“What fantasy is this?” He smiles. Spreads his legs. Strokes his cock with lazy fingers.
“This... is the fantasy. When I wake up on Christmas Day, and the guy I have been crushing on for ages is mysteriously naked in my bed.”
“Ohhh, good one. You see, because in this fantasy I’m a total thuggish brat, and last night I broke in here, to steal whatever I could find. You know. Just smash and grab. And there you were, and I decided to... you know… get naked and hope you would just... do me?”
“And did I?”
“You did. And now the next morning? You might have to handcuff me to the bed, and spank my arse, and then punish-fuck me while we wait for the police to come and take me away.”
“Now you’re talking.” I groan as my hands give my now, very-much, back-in-the-game cock a few encouraging strokes. Because that kind of fantasy? Fuck him. Fuck his dirty mouth.
“I’m kind of scared now.” He says, in a put-on voice. “If I let you fuck me, will you please not call the police?”
I struggle not to laugh, and on the inside? I’m a mess of emotions. I don’t know what to do with this man. The guy who is like nobody I have ever met. Could I take him home and let him meet my family? Oh god, I’m stroking my dick and imagining him meeting my mother. Talk about... fucked in the head.
In the meantime, he has turned over, and is on his knees flashing his bare arse at me.
“You should finish what you started. I can hear those sirens in the distance.” he says sternly.
“You’re such a brat.” I say and land a soft slap on his right arse cheek. He moans, and my cock jerks. Fucking hell. I shouldn’t have done that. What the hell?
I land another one, like some fucked-up reflex in my head. Not hard, but it leaves a pink little blush on his skin and now I am moaning right back at him.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” I whisper.
“I need you to be a little rougher than that… with me... just like that... then go harder when you fuck me.” He whispers back. “Like this.” He grabs my hand and lands a firm smack on his skin, my hand stinging from the strength of it as I groan, and he shivers. “Like that. I like it like that. Just a few swats as you fuck me. It makes it, more...” He moans as I land another one, then sighs and arches his back. “...interesting.”
I lose the plot at that point, pushing my dick firmly inside his pink little hole, working through the muscles with sheer force, feeling shame and horror and arousal in a weird, messed-up package as he shouts out to, “Go deeper. Faster. Just fucking give it to me.”
I’ve never fucked like this. I’ve never taken someone raw. No condom. No fucking lube, but he’s right. I can feel him. He can feel me too, because his mouth is running a commentary full of explicit words and messed-up demands as I place another firm slap on his other cheek, and grab his hips hard enough that I’ll most likely bruise him.
“Luca, Luca, Luca.” he chants. “More, so fucking good, OMG, I can feel you so deep… oh fuck, do it harder... Give me another slap.”
“Fucking thief,” I say sternly, and smack my palm into his arse. “Fuckin’ breaking and entering. Are you going to fuckin’ pay for that broken window?” I want to laugh, but he moans so loudly that I just slap his other cheek and go harder on him.
“More!” he shouts.
“You gonna, clean up the mess, you filthy little shit? Repair the window?” I’m good at this one, smacking his arse, scratching up his thighs, painting his skin with warmth.
“I’ll suck you off... I’ll repay you… ohh… Fuck... I’m gonna come... Please… Oh… Ahhh.”
I can feel him as he comes. I can feel every muscle in his body tense up. I can feel his blood pumping through his veins, and I can feel the moans coming from his mouth as he releases.
He goes all limp on the bed, drowning in the covers as his body seems to sink. A small smile on his blushed face. My sweat all over his body as I finish myself off, and I almost pass out as my orgasm slams through me.
I come all over his bruised arse. My come painting his pink skin as I feel the shame and regret creep up on me.
“Did I hurt you?” I say, my voice shivering. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I... Oh, Andreas, fuck.”
“Fuck no, darling. That is exactly what I get off on. Oh hell, where have you been all my life? I loved it. Fucking loved it. Feel my skin, it’s all tender and hot. Oh fuck, you came on it? That’s the hottest thing ever.”
He’s back on his knees, trying to look over his shoulder.
“Can you take a picture of it? I want to see. I want to see where you came.”
I don’t know why I think that’s the horniest thing I have ever heard. I don’t know why I jump at his command and rumble around on the sofa until I find my phone, and I certainly don’t know why I get my camera on and start filming his arse. Why I run my fingers through the wetness still lingering on his skin, and why I smile as I give his arse a light slap. His moan is instant, and I know I will be re-watching this one... jerking off to it. Daily.
“You can jerk off to that one later, when I go back home and get some clean clothes. It’s my Christmas present to you.” He smiles and rolls over on his back, smearing come all over the sheets. I somehow don’t mind. I somehow love that he’s all over my bed. In it. On it.
“We shouldn’t have... not used condoms. It’s not on. I would never want to risk giving you anything…” I stutter out, but he
just smiles.
“I got tested a week ago. I’m all good. I have the results on my phone if you want to see. I would never have let you bareback me otherwise.”
“What about me? You know nothing about where my dick has been!” I’m back to being stern, and he just smiles.
“Bea told me you haven’t had sex for months.”
“Bea knows shit.”
“Bea was on your phone, I’m sure she reads your messages.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yes, please.”
I’m an idiot, because I haven’t checked my phone. I haven’t checked the time either, because now I realise it’s just gone ten o’clock, and my family will bloody kill me and oh fuck!
“Bea had the baby!” I shout.
“She what?” Andreas screams, and throws himself out of bed, trying to grab the phone from me.
Numerous messages from Mum and Dad. Voice messages from Anna. Nothing from Bea. Oh, fucking hell? What have I missed?
“I’m coming to the hospital with you.” Andreas shouts, and hobbles out in the hallway, only to come back and shout, “Lend me some underpants, will you?”
“They won’t let us in.” I say. “They have visiting hours and stuff.”
“Have you ever let that stop you?” He smiles. “Your boyfriend... or partner... or whatever you want to call me, is a car salesman. I have a reputation to protect.”
“You’re going to just roll up there and put on the charm, and we will be allowed to see my sister?”
I haven’t smiled as much in years. Nor have I ever cried in the middle of sex. This is a Christmas of firsts. A lifetime of firsts. So many firsts with this ridiculous man, who is now running around my flat, wearing a pair of my briefs and one of my socks.
“Yup.” He smiles. “Watch and learn. Now get dressed.”
Andreas
He makes me smile, and I secretly love it. I love that he’s so obviously smitten with me, yet he doesn’t seem to realise how openly he’s giving himself away, alongside all his little secrets. He drops his keys on the ground, just because I wink at him. His hands shake as I tell him he’s cute. And the constant blush flashing over his face, whenever I look at him, it’s just so bloody adorable that I can't stop smiling.
I think I always wanted something like this, being with someone who just openly adores me. I feel like a prince in a Christmas fairy tale, proud as a peacock as I follow him out in the street. Yet, I am just waiting for that moment when he tells me to leave, because he has to go see his granny or some other lame excuse to ensure I skip out of his life, never to return.
I don’t want to skip anywhere. I kind of want to stay like this forever. I want to sleep in his bed tonight... well, after I have gone home to get some clothes, and I think he might faint if I bring my leather jockstrap. I have a pair of red boxers that really do it for me as well. They are so tight and thin that you can see everything through them, and I like how they hug my arse. I also have a plug that might come in handy. So many ideas, so many future nights when we can play them out.
“You drive a what?” I shriek as he stops by a green antique-looking Fiat. It’s a bloody Fiat! A model I don’t even know the name of, but at least it’s not rusty, and looks kind of… customised to hell.
“It’s a Fiat.” He smiles. “My first car. I got it for free too. A mate of my dad’s was going to scrap it, and I got it to play around with for my college project. I ended up rebuilding the engine from scratch, and then I have just rewired, and you know, fixed parts here and there, replaced parts of the chassis…”
“The tyres are too big for her.”
“Yup, they are test tyres, free samples. They are quite good, but you’re right, too big. At least no stupid boy racer will try to steal her, because she looks totally shit on the outside.”
“Are you going to say she’s better on the inside?” I open the door and stare at the passenger seat. There are piles of rubbish in the floor well, and the whole thing smells of gym gear and damp trainers. A little bit of sweat… and old car.
“I use her for going to the gym, and I play football on Sundays. The rest of the time I walk where I need to be. It’s not like I really need a car around here.”
“She needs a valet, and a good clean.” I sniff the interior as I get in. Leathers and polish. Four different colours of interior leather in the front seat alone, and I don’t dare to look in the back.
“I use her to try out new materials, just to see how the colour holds, and how well they age. Sometimes I need to stretch leathers to fit, and they damage. The grey leather in this panel here looks amazing, and I have battered that part to hell. Phoebe is useful like that.”
“Phoebe?” I laugh. Again. So fucking funny. “Your car is called Phoebe?”
“So? I liked Friends when I was younger.”
“I like Friends. I totally idolised Jennifer Aniston, then she married Brat Pitt and I kind of lost the respect. Can’t stand Joey though. I dunno why?”
“I like Brad Pitt.”
“That’s it. We’re breaking up.”
“You’re not breaking up with me. I won’t let you.” He leans across from the driver's seat and smacks a wet kiss on my mouth. “And you promised to stay tonight. If you break up with me, you’ll have to sleep on the sofa, and I wouldn’t let you have any covers.”
“Brr... ohh... Booo!” I say, putting on my silliest voice as he smiles and starts the car.
“Look.” He says. Then he stops the engine and puts the handbrake back on.
“I’m not breaking up with you.” I quip.
“I just wanted to say something.”
“Okay?”
He rubs his hands and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t even look at me as he starts to talk.
“I didn’t like that I… I don’t... you know. I smacked you earlier and it must have hurt. I don’t ever want to do that. I’m…”
He seems to run out of steam, his whole body tenses, like he’s trying to knot himself into a ball of invisibility and shame. He’s got nothing to be ashamed of, and for once I am lost for words.
“I don’t know what to say.” I say instead, reaching out and grabbing his hand on the steering wheel. “You didn’t hit me. You didn’t hurt me. We were playing, acting out a fantasy that we were both enjoying. You enjoyed it as much as I did, at least I thought you did.”
“I shouldn’t have done it, I knew it was fucked up, but it was so bloody hot and I... I didn’t know how to stop. I was just really into it, and I didn’t think, and…”
“Look.” I say sternly. “Stop.” He just sits there, as I breathe through my nose. Sigh. Try to gather what I am trying to say. “I’ve known you for what, a day and a bit?”
Luca says nothing.
“Let me start again. What we did last night was insane. I have never had that with anyone before, and that is telling the truth. I loved that you took control, I loved that you looked after me and I loved every part of it. Then this morning? I trusted you, because I knew, whatever you did, I would be safe. Do you know how bloody amazing it is to feel that you can trust someone? I’ve only known you for a short while, but I trust you. I could relax and just get into it all, being me, because you were just you, the way you are. You’re a bit of a mess in real life, but in bed? When you are in control? Have you seen yourself?”
“No.” He says softly. “I shouldn’t have hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me. You smacked my arse during sex, and I was begging for it. You did it, because I wanted it, and it was fucking perfect, and excuse the language, but it fucking was. And if you are very, very honest with yourself, you found it kind of arousing too. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, and trust me, people have hurt me before, because I was too bloody stupid to stop them.”
“You need to say stop.” Luca is looking at me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s back to being himself again, and not the terrified shell of a person he sometimes becomes. “You need to promise me that you will say stop, if I
ever go too far.”
“I promise. I’ve told you. If I say stop, then I mean it.”
“I won’t hurt you. Please don’t ask me to.”
“Then... I’ll tell you... but can we maybe please sit down and talk about this at a time when we are not trying to get to the hospital, and it’s not Christmas and we can... We need to talk. I want to talk about this, and try to tell you what I like. Because I am not some kinky bastard who gets off on pain, I just... I like the fantasy. I like playing around, and pretending I am someone else. That’s my kink, and... I like it a bit rough. I like slaps and spanks and I think you and me… I think we sometimes get off on the same thing.”
“I got off on it this morning. I didn’t like that I did, but at the same time?” He looks at me like he’s still confused about what’s coming out of his mouth.
“You and me?” I lean over and kiss his stupid face. Smooth down his hair. Stroke his cheek. “We are going to mess up, and we are going to argue over things and get annoyed, and I guarantee you are going to get fed up with me and my mouth, and that I never switch off and my god I can talk, but you know what? I think sexual chemistry is the least of our worries. You and I are… I can’t even describe it. We are…”
“Perfect.” He fills in, and smiles. “I don’t want you to hate me.”
“Why would I?”
“Because… All kinds of reasons, I’m all… and you know if I hurt you… and I’m not any good at relationships,” he stutters out, obviously all flustered again.
“I’ve never had a relationship. Well, apart from a hookup that lasted way longer than it should have. Oh, and Francesca Griffiths in Year 6, who was my girlfriend for a whole month. She didn’t even let me kiss her, and all I wanted was to be like her. She gave me one of her lip-gloss tins, and I found it when I cleared out my uni room. I had no idea I still had it.”
“Shut up,” he says, with a giggle, and starts the car again. “You had a girlfriend?”
“I did. Not my best move, but it made me feel normal for a while, during that awkward stage when you think you are going crazy on the inside. I didn’t fit in, and at least she made me look cool and normal. I didn’t know why I liked her, but I figured out later, that I liked her because I wanted to be like her. Pretty and soft and gorgeous. With lip gloss.”
Ship of Fools Page 9