by Roe Horvat
In the hallway in front of his door, Simon hesitated, nervous and confused by the amount of anticipation. It was fast, too fast, and very unlike him. Yet it felt so damn good to leave the shuffling crowd of the undead behind for once. Before he had time to decide on his next move, he found himself pressed with his back to the wall. His brain imploded, leaving him with barely enough cognitive capacity to keep his body upright.
This was so unfair. The second Matěj walked into the lecture hall the previous morning, Simon had been swept away like a fragile little damsel. He briefly considered somehow conveying the message he really wasn’t the submissive type, but it would require some rational thoughts, and Simon was devoid of those at the moment. Instead, he gave out a low groan and let his hands roam Matěj’s back from neck to tailbone. Matěj kissed him long and thorough, and Simon heard a very contented humming noise only to realize seconds later it was him making the sound.
When Matěj stopped the kiss later, Simon tried to follow his leaving lips on instinct, making the man chuckle again. No point in pretending indifference anymore, then.
“I can’t go inside right now,” Matěj said in a low voice. “If I did, I would never leave. And I need to be home in an hour.”
“You have a curfew?” Simon grimaced at his joke. Why he aimed to spoil his own good mood he’d never understand.
Matěj laughed anyway. “No, but my sister does. I have to be there to see she follows through.”
Simon managed a nod.
“I want to see you again soon,” Matěj said, his features a little strained. “I really like you, but I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“Anything serious would be rather convoluted, considering our respective situations, don’t you think?” With the irrational surge of bitterness, Simon found his vocabulary again.
Matěj smiled. “I love it when you talk like that.” He gave Simon one last brief kiss. He tasted of mint and cigarettes, of youth, pleasure, and freedom. “I’ll text you.” He turned to leave.
“I can’t do anything to improve your grades, you know,” Simon mumbled, lamely masking the sudden feeling of loss.
Matěj’s voice sounded sharp when the man threw his last words over his shoulder. “I don’t give a shit about grades. I’m going to be the best fuck of your life. I promise you that.”
And he was gone.
Simon stared into the empty space in front of him, his eyes wide, cock hard, and face hot. He needed a shower. Immediately.
2: The Passion of the Cruel Doctor Frost
—Dejvice, Prague, December 2012—
Simon showered for the second time and cleaned the apartment. Then he didn’t want to look like an OCD patient so he intentionally left one glass and a plate on the counter top. As if it made him less of a freak. The clenching in his gut and the need to take a deliberate deep breath every second minute had accompanied him constantly for the past few days. It was exhausting. Breaking all the rules of propriety he was taught at home, he opened a bottle of Pinot and switched on the TV. His guest wouldn’t care.
When Matěj arrived a few minutes later carrying two pizza boxes, he only cast an amused look toward the TV set.
“You drink white wine while watching a game? Figures.”
“I like basketball and I like wine.” Simon shrugged.
“Hope you like pizza.” Matěj smiled, balancing the boxes on his tattooed arm.
“Everybody likes pizza.”
“True. And this is not just any pizza. I bought these on my way here at the Italian place two blocks down. The guy there is a wizard.”
Simon knew the restaurant. It was a posh Italian bistro, delicious and overpriced. Matěj was a student. There was no way Simon was letting him pay five hundred crowns for their dinner. He reached for his wallet, fingering the notes there.
“What are you doing?”
Simon lifted his head and started at the scowl on Matěj’s face.
“You’re a student, don’t be foolish…” But before he could even pull out the notes Matěj stopped him with a loud snort.
“It’s not like I can’t afford a pizza, for fuck’s sake. You can pay next time.” He pivoted on his sock-clad feet, not waiting for an answer. “Kitchen’s this way?” He disappeared through the door.
Simon followed slowly, annoyed and intrigued at the same time. Next time? Halfway there, he realized he’d forgotten his wine and went back for it. He figured he’d need it. In the kitchen, he found Matěj going through his cabinets with enthusiasm. To Simon’s surprise it didn’t feel nosey. Why?
“Man, you’ve got a great kitchen!” Matěj found two glasses, filled them with water and put them on the table. Then he opened the fridge and bent to eye the contents. “Hope you have beer. There it is… Red Dragon? Nothing else?” He was fluttering around in the tiny space like a butterfly. Simon could only watch, dumbfounded.
Matěj placed the beers on the table and put one hand on his waist, observing the kitchen counter appreciatively. He smoothed one palm over the dark granite and the ceramic stove. He even crouched down and looked at the oven closely.
“Pure beauty and spotless just like your work shirts. Don’t you ever cook here or are you such a neat freak?”
“A little bit of both.”
“You can’t have a kitchen like this and not cook. It’s unnatural.”
“You cook?”
Matěj waggled his eyebrows, smirking. “Hell, yes, I am an alchemist!” He plopped down on a chair, opening a box. “But today it’s pizza.” He pulled out a piece and tilted his head toward Simon. “You’re going to stand there and stare?”
Simon shook his head, smiling. He looked at the beer bottle on the table and at the wine glass he still held. Oh, what the hell… He downed the wine, put the glass on the counter and sat down. “Smells delicious.”
“It is. You have quattro formaggio. This one is buffalo mozzarella and rucola.”
“Can I have some of both?”
“Sharing was the plan.” Matěj smiled and took a large bite.
“No meat?”
Matěj chewed quickly and mumbled something with his mouth full. It sounded like “hedge aria.”
Simon lifted his eyebrows. “You’re a vegetarian?”
“Yeah. What?” Another giant bite.
“Nothing.” Simon watched him eat, marveling at his appetite. Wow, Matěj could appreciate food. A vegetarian. Go figure. Simon filed the information together with the rest of the random trivia he’d already collected about Matěj.
***
“How did you know? Somebody told you?” Simon finally asked when one of the pizza boxes was empty and the other held the last three pieces.
“No… It took a while. I wasn’t sure. But then I caught you staring in the cafeteria a few days ago.”
You did? “You didn’t even look my way.”
“Simon, there is a giant mirror behind the counter. I saw you as clearly as I can see you now.”
“Oh…” The stream of embarrassment was never-ending. Simon’s neck felt hot, his one ear burned, the scarred one itched. He lifted his hand to tug at it but stopped himself mid-air. The tugging was his usual nervous gesture which only drew attention to his mangled earlobe. Simon had been trying to get rid of the annoying habit for the past twenty-five years, and it only made him more nervous. Jesus, he was a mess.
Matěj took a drink of his beer, calmly observing Simon’s twitching.
Simon cleared his throat. “And before?” he asked.
Matěj shrugged. “You’re not easy. I liked you so I watched you, but you were like a damn fortress. You give very little away. As a person, I mean. I bet your friends are frustrated they don’t know you well enough to actually call you their friend.”
Simon gaped.
“So, last spring, in the seminar, I made you my project. To figure out The Cruel Doctor Frost.”
“They really call me that?”
“Yes. The Cruel Earless Doctor Frost, sometimes.”
> “Shit, you punks are mean.” Simon sighed and shook his head. “That’s why you were so damn shameless all the time?”
“I admit I tried to get a reaction out of you.”
“I knew, I just didn’t know if you did it with everyone.”
“But you didn’t even twitch a muscle!”
He didn’t? He had better self-control than he thought. “I liked it.” Simon admitted, looking down at his last slice of pizza.
“Me being rude?”
“You weren’t rude. You’re clever and funny. Frankly, it’s refreshing.”
“Okay.” Matěj looked dubious.
“I wouldn’t have tolerated you disrupting the lectures, but you behaved when it was necessary to concentrate. You never crossed the line. I never had a reason to call you on it.”
Still unsure, Matěj scratched at the label on his beer bottle. It was the first time Simon had seen him looking flustered. “I saw you looking at me… Sometimes you looked pissed.”
“I was frustrated, not pissed,” Simon said quietly. “I was clearly attracted to you and wasn’t allowed to do anything about it.” It was strange, but admitting his weakness aloud made Simon relax.
“Now you can.” The mischief and confidence were back. It seemed Matěj was used to accepting compliments about his appearance but not his mind. The realization made Simon sad.
“Yeah, now I can.”
***
An hour later, Simon wiped the table down and put the empty pizza boxes on the floor next to the bin. He found Matěj in the living room, second beer bottle in hand, staring at the contents of Simon’s giant bookcase.
Simon watched in silence as the man tilted his head reading the titles, unaware of Simon’s presence in the room. There were Hrabal, John Irving and Henry James directly in front of Matěj’s nose. Simon heard him mumble something indistinct, probably a curse word, and then a whispered, “Oh, boy,” as he continued his tour of Simon’s personal library. He stopped again, eyeing Feynman’s lectures and The Brief History of Time, chuckled at The Portable Henry Rollins, and ran his fingers over the collection of battered Terry Pratchett paperbacks.
Upon seeing the gentle movements of Matěj’s hand over his books, Simon took the few remaining steps forward. He put an arm around Matěj’s chest from behind, trapping his upper body, and bent down to bury his nose in Matěj’s hair. He closed his eyes on an inhale and breathed out heavily against the warm smooth skin on Matěj’s neck. He breathed in. And out. He found himself in a dreamland.
Matěj hummed. “You sure are a nerd,” he said with his gaze still on the books, voice low.
“Mmhm.” Not really an answer but it would have to do. Simon’s lips were too busy to articulate properly. He kissed his way from behind the man’s ear down his neck toward the top of his right shoulder but the collar of the stupid T-shirt got in the way. He felt Matěj shudder a little, and a smug grin took over his face. Good. But then… Matěj turned abruptly, clasping Simon’s neck with the tattooed hand, and suddenly Simon was stumbling through his apartment backward, his arms trapped in his shirt.
Exactly how he found himself half-naked and spread-eagled on his bed was a mystery. When did he lose the upper hand? Oh right, he’d never had it. What the hell was wrong with him? The feel of Matěj’s lips and tongue on his chest… Wherever this was headed, Simon didn’t want to stop it. Well, except—
Simon wanted so much. He couldn’t remember feeling like this for a very long time. Maybe ever. However, judging by Matěj’s behavior so far, their expectations seemed incompatible. Not good. Simon feared the looming compromise would be an awful turn-off. He should have known. He could hold his mouth shut and hope for the best, but that hadn’t worked out well for him in the past. Better to be upfront in the beginning and spare himself awkward negotiations with his pants already around his ankles. You idiot, stop overthinking everything, it’s just sex. Potentially great sex.
“Matěj,” he tried. He heard an answering low hum. Matěj crawled up the bed, nestling between Simon’s thighs, putting his elbows next to Simon’s head, caging him in. He stared down at Simon in earnest, illuminated only by the light spilling in through the door from the living room. Simon looked up, his lips parted, breathing choppy; he felt the weight of another body on his, and the rightness of it made him aware of how lonely he had let himself become. Why was he so emotional? He was never emotional, damn it! The man above him… Suddenly Simon couldn’t remember why they should pause.
“What is it?” Matěj whispered, his fingers stroking Simon’s mauled ear, unblinking eyes flicking between his. Simon didn’t want him to leave.
“I usually don’t bottom well.” Simon sped through the confession on a rugged exhale.
Against all odds, Matěj answered with a smile. “We can do whatever you want.” Matěj saw Simon’s expression, and his grin faded. He put a gentle kiss on Simon’s upper lip and nuzzled his jaw. He spoke low, directly in Simon’s ear. “What do you want, Simon?” He spoke to him as if to a virgin. It was just as well because right then, Simon felt like one. It was not a good feeling. Matěj kissed the scarred earlobe and grazed Simon’s neck with his teeth. He was perfect—smelled, tasted, and felt perfect. Simon’s inner protests faltered in the face of all this perfection.
“How long has it been?” Matěj whispered against Simon’s throat.
Now, that’s very imperfect. And since what? Since the last time Simon had sex with a man or since he last bottomed? He squeezed his eyes shut. Why did it always have to be so damn complicated? Who did whom and how… “Six months or five years, depends on what you’re asking.”
Matěj groaned. “Oh, shit, Simon, you…” He didn’t finish whatever he was going to say. He kissed Simon instead, wet and deep, and fumbled with their jeans. He’d obviously taken Simon’s confession as a challenge. Crap. Simon should stop this. I don’t want to stop.
Within seconds, Simon was buck-ass naked while Matěj’s open jeans still hung around his hips. There were warm hands on Simon’s waist, his hips, grabbing his bare ass cheeks. If he wasn’t sure about this, why did he kiss back feverishly, his tongue deep in Matěj’s mouth, tangling, sucking, biting at his lips? He should stop. Instead, he grabbed Matěj’s hair and pressed his whole body closer, diving deeper. This was wrong, this was too much—
Tearing his mouth away, Simon squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw.
Matěj kneeled and smoothed his hands over Simon’s chest. “Simon, tell me.” A kiss on Simon’s breastbone. “What do you want?”
And Simon let go. Matěj could read him and cared. Much more than most of Simon’s former lovers had done. There hadn’t been many. Simon tried not to dwell on the embarrassing and disturbing fact the younger man was by far the more experienced of them both.
He buried his fingers in Matěj’s hair again and dragged him closer for another hungry kiss. “Want you to fuck me,” he mumbled against those delicious lips. It wasn’t how he’d imagined their first night together. Nevertheless, deep down, it was what he wanted, what he craved. If this was a one-night stand—and he couldn’t imagine any kind of future for them—then he wanted everything, all the way, none of his usual restraint and wariness. The attraction he felt toward the man currently in his bed was unprecedented. He’d want to remember this, to savor this, even feel it the next day.
Matěj pinned him down while he traced the line from the dip between Simon’s clavicles, over his sternum and toward his navel. Simon felt Matěj’s tongue in the groove between his left hip and underbelly, and he bit back a moan. When Matěj licked him from base to crown, there was no way Simon could stay silent.
“Wow,” Matěj sighed just before he took Simon’s cock in his mouth. In Simon’s head, something pulled on the safety switch. Everything went dark and blurry. Turned off. Finally. After decades of constant buzzing, writhing, regrouping, and clashing, the processes in Simon’s brain limped and then halted entirely. His consciousness became a warm black cave where only a few br
oken words echoed around in the vast empty space. Words like more, please and yes. Time was nonexistent.
He barely noticed Matěj repositioning, and then felt a finger push inside; it grazed his prostate, and Simon’s legs jerked. He was going to come. No, no, no. Not yet. Please, not yet. He didn’t know if he said it out loud or if Matěj just felt his plea, but he slowed down, caressing, soothing. He helped Simon to turn around, and before Simon could begin feeling insecure and exposed on his hands and knees staring blindly at the headboard, he felt Matěj’s tongue there, and his arms gave out under him. His head sank into the pillow, his hands fisted the sheets, he was lost. There were too many sensations to keep track of—Matěj’s hands massaging his thighs, lower back, and ass cheeks, the long, thievish fingers circling his cock, the warm, wet mouth…
“Stop me anytime.”
Simon had no idea what Matěj was talking about. By the time he felt the mattress shift and heard the crackle of plastic, Simon was a heap of senseless want. There was fear for sure, but it was a different kind of fear. Kind of like he felt before he pushed off the edge on a steep slope when he was skiing—the fear which came just before the exhilarating rush.
Simon registered the burning pain somewhere in a forgotten corner of his mind, but it faded as fast as it came, and it was nothing in comparison to everything else he experienced. This is how it’s supposed to feel, he thought, this is why people do it. A strangled sob escaped him, and he bit the pillow. Matěj’s hands soothed over his hips, back, and torso, and he felt chaste kisses on his spine, the gentle touch a striking contradiction to the burn and fullness inside him.
“I’ve wanted you for ages.” Matěj’s voice changed, so deep it was alien. “Simon…” It vibrated through Simon’s body making him even more aware of their connection just as their surroundings faded. Simon pressed back, and the answering moan would have made him smile if he were able to do such a thing.
