by Roe Horvat
Matěj moved slow and languid, making Simon writhe under him. His hands never stopped stroking Simon’s skin in gestures which were strangely assessing. All the time he was silently, discreetly checking whether Simon was okay. Unbelievable. “You’ve got a runner’s body. I can tell.” He paused as he seemed to struggle with his breathing. “So…real. Flawless.” Simon reached behind and dug his fingers in Matěj’s thigh, urging him on.
“Tell me you’ll let me do this again,” Matěj bit out, his voice full of restraint.
Simon managed a muted answer. “Yes.” They were definitely doing this again. The second “yes” was only a hiss, but Matěj heard enough. He sped up and reached for Simon’s erection. His thrusts became impossibly deep and hard, like blows against Simon’s spine, but instead of growing tense under the assault, Simon’s body opened even more. Relaxed and pliant, he could barely hold himself on elbows and knees. Every muscle in his body sighed with relief, and the ecstasy came long before his actual orgasm. His mind blank, he didn’t have to focus and chase the pleasure like he used to with other lovers. It washed over him, overwhelming him, changing him. The tingles spread from somewhere near his tailbone, engulfing his whole lower body, and his asshole started pulsing around the intrusion. Simon fell apart.
Any other time with anybody else, Simon would have been ashamed of the loud shout he couldn’t hold back. Right then, he didn’t give a shit. Not when he felt Matěj behind him, biting the muscles on Simon’s back with abandon, chasing his own orgasm, coming a minute later. They collapsed on the bed. Simon registered he landed chest first in his own sticky stain. Too late. He couldn’t make himself care for that either.
He was still riding a peculiar high when he turned to find Matěj lying on his side, propped on his elbow, grinning smugly. Simon hid his face in the pillow under Matěj’s chin and chuckled. He’d just had a man kiss and lick his ass. He’d always suspected people only really did it in porn. And he’d let a man fuck him for the first time in five years. It felt insanely good. So good, he already wanted to do it again. Even if it’d mean he’d have to take laxatives for a week. Fuck it! His libido had awoken with a slap, and it craved things. There was more to be explored, more pleasures to be found, a whole new dimension of them, Simon was sure of it.
Was this their second date? Oh, the devil down underneath, whose life was this?
Matěj’s palm felt warm and reassuring on Simon’s neck. “What’s so funny, Doc?”
“Me,” Simon said truthfully and shook his head again.
Matěj lifted his chin and kissed him. It was not enough. Nothing would ever be enough again. “How do you feel?” Matěj asked.
Grateful was the first word that invaded Simon’s mind, but he couldn’t say it. Simon didn’t know the scared, confused Catholic boy was still hidden inside him. The boy who believed some parts of his body and some ways to touch them were inherently wrong. Who thought the things he sometimes dreamt about were tarnishing him, that he was a walking, talking mistake. In what could have been a mere twenty minutes, Matěj had changed him. Simon felt relieved. Like he’d just let out a twenty years’ worth, full-body sigh. He should feel violated like he had the few times he’d bottomed years ago. Instead he felt taken care of, cherished, as if everything Matěj did from the moment they kissed in front of Simon’s beloved books was precisely calculated to make Simon delirious with pleasure.
He closed his eyes, soaking up the lingering pleasure of Matěj’s touch. He stroked Matěj’s arms, tracing where he knew the tattoo spread out, and tangled his fingers in the soft, dark hair. What was the question? “I feel like I just smoked a bong while sipping a piña colada and bathing my feet in chocolate sauce.” The words just tumbled out of his mouth as if he really were doped. Maybe he was.
Matěj started laughing loudly, his whole body shaking, making Simon’s insides glow with happiness.
A question Simon didn’t want to ask was itching and squirming in his throat. “It’s not funny. I just got rimmed on a second date. Now all the boys will think I’m a slut,” he joked instead.
Matěj smiled down at him, taking his time, his eyes flitting over Simon’s features. He looked so at ease. “Told you I was going to blow your mind.”
Simon narrowed his eyes in a pretend scowl, and Matěj smiled wider. “I wanted you to feel so good you’d forget it’s supposed to be wrong.”
How did he know? How the fucking hell did he know these things? Simon didn’t just have sex with his therapist, did he? He didn’t even have a therapist. Although, it seemed he might need one.
“Sometimes it feels weird. With you…” Instead of finishing the sentence, Matěj shrugged. “I like you, Simon. I really want to do this again.”
Did it mean they could have a relationship after all? How? Simon already knew he’d take whatever he could get. And wasn’t it just a little pathetic? He wouldn’t think of those things now. There were so many much better thoughts to dwell on.
He circled his arms around his young lover, around his shoulders and neck, and palmed the back of Matěj’s head, pressing their foreheads together. He wanted so much already. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply, trying to get his emotions under control. They lay on their sides, tangled in each other. Simon focused on all the places where they touched, feeling the flow of the warmth, the unfamiliar heartbeat against his own, Matěj’s hands on his ribs, their breaths mingling. He could stay like this, leaving all the questions to float away. He could just drift, sleepy and content wrapped in the warm velvet of Matěj’s skin…
“I have to go.”
Slap! The words landed like a physical blow in Simon’s face.
With a poof, all the fuzzy, warm fog was gone. Simon’s eyes snapped wide open, his consciousness hiccupped and went into a frenzy again. He rolled onto his back, and his arms dropped limply to his sides.
“Of course.”
Of course. Matěj rose fluidly and headed for the bathroom, picking up his clothes from the floor as he went. Simon stared at the naked beauty, unable to fight the humiliating disappointment. You got what you deserved, idiot. No mercy on the stupid.
A few minutes later, Matěj re-emerged, fully clothed, put together, solemn even. He lingered in the doorway. Simon hoped he would at least kiss him goodbye. So silly.
“I’ll text you, okay?” Matěj said, his face invisible as he stood illuminated from behind.
“Okay.”
Simon heard the door click. He would not feel rejected, he would not feel lonely. He. Would. Not. No! He turned on the bed, groaning.
No mercy on the stupid, Simon. No mercy on the weak.
***
Simon was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. He showered and changed the stained bed sheet with somber concentration. His brain worked overtime again.
He’d never had sex with a woman. He always knew he wasn’t interested and didn’t lie to himself enough to even try. The few fumbling and quite scary teenage experiences with other boys had left him riddled with guilt and disgust with himself. He’d been celibate for a while.
At university, he’d discovered he didn’t really believe in sin. He was expected to do so but the choice was his own. The relief he felt was profound. When he was twenty-two, he told his parents he was gay. He was calm and resigned, sure of the outcome. His mother’s hysterics filled him with a perverted kind of humor. He still smirked at the memory just as often as he cringed.
Later on, he sought safety and stability in his relationships. He preferred men slightly older than himself with a clear picture of what they wanted. He’d had several sexual partners over the years and considered himself a decent lover.
On his first night with Matěj, for only a moment, Simon experienced a pure unadulterated joy of being completely accepted by another human being—without shame, reservations, paybacks or expectations—for the very first time in his life. It was something he’d subconsciously craved since he had been the little boy who felt unloved and sinful through no fault of his ow
n.
For a second, he was convinced there was nothing wrong with what he’d done because nothing which felt this wonderful could be condemnable. Society could choke on its prejudice for all he cared. He was high on the feeling, finally tasting the genuine kind of freedom, the freedom living on the inside. Letting go of his doubts, his bitterness, of the foul-smelling old hatred still rotting in the dark alcoves of his mind, he breathed happiness he’d only so far seen in some of his patients. The orgasm was fleeting, carnal, and measurable. However, the insane, uninhibited pleasure in the aftermath made him glow from deep in his belly.
As Simon basked in the warmth and light, vulnerable in his open happiness, at the exact same moment, Matěj chose to leave. Like a kick in your stomach just when you’re stretching your arms overhead.
***
In the morning, Simon found the abandoned bottle of beer on the bookshelf next to a tiny old Czech edition of Arthur Rimbaud. He rinsed the bottle, put it in a crate on the balcony, returned to the living room and took the Rimbaud with him, falling into his sofa. He was already in the foulest mood; French poetry couldn’t make things worse.
3: The Secret Second Life of the Cruel Doctor Frost
—Old Town, Prague, January 2013—
The gallery was small and a little dodgy. It looked like it also served as a club. What kind of club Simon didn’t want to know. Still, he’d promised Lukas he’d come. The walls were damp, and there was dirt in the corners. The air smelled like stale smoke and mold. Tall bar tables were scattered in the suffocating, low rooms, and all kinds of artsy hipster types strolled back and forth, looking engrossed in world-changing disputes.
Simon stood in an alcove, enjoying a moment of peace. The wine was too sweet but better than nothing. He watched Matěj from afar as the young man eyed the curious objects with a satirical smile. Oblivious of the scrutiny, Matěj took a few steps backward, rocked on his heels and tilted his head to the side reading an inscription next to a piece of clay that looked like Willy Wonka’s hat. He shook his head a little, pivoted on his soles, and stalked to the next exhibit. He moved like a dancer. In the dark gray button-down and red Converse, he was as dressed up as Simon had ever seen him. With his sleeves rolled up, showing the intricate clockwork tattoo and an assortment of leather bracelets, he looked casual and comfortable.
Simon was worried about spending time with Matěj in public in case some other student or colleague saw them. Consequently, they didn’t come together. Matěj had barely nodded in Simon’s direction before he went off to tour the gallery.
Having paid his respects to the artist, Simon hoped he could disappear with Matěj in an hour or so. He felt giddy in expectation of another night together with his lover. Matěj treated life like delicious food, just like he appreciated Simon’s books and hummed around a beer bottle. The boy knew how to enjoy things, how to marvel at things, how to savor impressions, how to feast on a pleasurable moment to its maximum capacity. It was a singular skill, wildly to be admired. When Simon found himself at the center of the man’s attention, those were easily the happiest minutes of his entire life. Everything in between lost color.
He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. Lukas put an arm around Simon’s neck—an admirable accomplishment since he was almost a head shorter.
“Eye-fucking straight men, are we?”
Simon smiled, keeping his gaze pinned on Matěj.
“Not straight.”
“Ah, what a wonderful day.” Lukas sighed, his smile stretching from ear to ear.
Simon snorted and drank more from his glass. Matěj, unaware of the attention he had attracted, stopped a few meters away from them in front of a sculpture of a huge ostrich head. He bent a little, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Simon could imagine what was going through Lukas’s horny head.
“And how did you acquire the priceless information?” Lukas asked.
“His name is Matěj.” Simon’s tone said more than his words.
“Simon, does your mother know you’ve got yourself a boy toy with a penchant for body modification?”
“She pretends I don’t have a libido.”
Lukas stood silent for a while, patting Simon’s shoulder once more and humming thoughtfully.
“He’s lovely. Is he pierced anywhere else?”
“No.”
“Pity, but that can be fixed.”
It wouldn’t be smart to snap at his friend. Simon knew it, but he was tempted.
“I love the hair. Good length for all kinds of stuff.” Simon bit back a groan. Lukas continued unwavering. “I’m going to Barcelona in two weeks. One hundred doctors talking leukemia for three days. Deeply depressing shit.” He hummed again as he pretended to hesitate. “Can I borrow him? Can you imagine me lying on a beach with that ass as a pillow?”
“He’s a person, not a show dog. And it’s, like, five degrees Celsius in Catalonia right now.”
Lukas turned eyeing Simon speculatively. “Interesting.”
Simon usually kept his shit together better than this. Oh, well.
“You’ve got a reaction from me. Satisfied?”
His friend grew serious, and Simon knew he was in trouble.
“How’d you meet him?”
He winced a little before admitting. “He’s finishing med school this spring.”
“Simon, don’t tell me you’ve fucked your student.” Lukas said, sounding suddenly weary.
“Technically, it was the other way around.”
Lukas’s eyes popped out. “What happened to you? What the hell are you doing?” The tone of Lukas’s voice was severe, all teasing gone.
Simon answered truthfully. It wasn’t like lying to his oldest friend would make anything less complicated. “I couldn’t find it in myself to say no. I didn’t want to say no.”
“How long?”
“I’ve been seeing him for two months. Give or take a week.”
“Two months?” Lukas’s tone was incredulous. Was Simon imagining the hint of hurt?
“Lower your voice, please. Not that it is any of your business but it feels nice to let go for a change.”
Lukas stared, his mouth parted in confusion. After a few seconds, though, he seemed to sober up. Keeping his hand on Simon’s shoulder, he crossed his feet at the ankles, assessing Matěj openly from head to toe with even deeper interest.
“Well. It’s understandable.” Lukas smiled distractedly then sighed. “Wow, just look at him.” Simon wanted to kick Lukas in the kneecap with a pointy boot. “It’s just you’re always the controlled, somber one.”
Ha. The irony.
“Not when it comes to him, apparently,” Lukas added, his warm brown eyes shifted toward Simon with what could have been taken as compassion. Simon felt a little sick in the stomach. Must be the wine. He turned to Lukas, who dropped his arm.
“Just leave it. It’s nothing serious. It was his initiative, and he’s discreet. We’re careful. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Okay.” Lukas seemed unconvinced.
“What about your artist?” Simon asked, eager to change the subject.
“He’s a pretentious prick,” Lukas answered, but his smile was affectionate.
“Some of the pieces aren’t bad,” Simon tried but Lukas knew him too well.
“But most of them are shitty.”
“Well, I don’t understand art.”
“You don’t have to. It’s obvious he’s a giant bubble of posh fake.” Lukas sighed again and shook his head. “But he’s nice, you know? And thank fuck, there’s no baggage. Which is a small miracle in this town.”
“Lukas the famous scientist is dating a struggling sculptor. How endearing.”
“Laugh all you want, but I have a guy who actually likes waking up next to me.”
How did Lukas know if that were true? He didn’t, but now Simon’s face showed the tiny stab of pain, and Lukas found out more than he needed to know. Before he could apologize, they were interrupted.
Simon
smelled him first which was strange. Then he felt the chin on his shoulder and the warm breath on his neck. Matěj pressed one palm on Simon’s lower back and, ostentatiously ignoring Lukas, he talked directly into Simon’s ear.
“Baby, I’m bored. Let’s go home and fuck.”
What the hell? Simon rolled his eyes. He was too old for these games. Lukas half smiled, his eyes wary. “You boys have fun,” he said and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
Simon headed toward the cloak room. He took his coat and didn’t stop his fast stride until he was standing on the street where he lit a cigarette. Matěj caught up with him, shrugging into his jacket.
“Was it necessary?” Simon asked, his tone measured.
“He was hitting on you.”
There was no way holding back the annoyed sigh. “There were many people in the gallery who knew me, Matěj.”
“Nobody noticed.”
“I did!” Simon raised his voice a little but calmed down immediately on an exhale. “It’s risky enough to walk together on the street. Not just for me, you understand that, right?”
“Yes,” Matěj grumbled looking away lighting his own cigarette. The dark street was empty. They went slowly, both insecure and rattled. “I saw him touching you.”
“I’m surprised you care.”
“Of course I care. I hate watching a guy slobber all over you.”
No one likes other people touching their sex toys. Simon was too tired to voice his sour mood. “Lukas is an old friend. I’ve known him for fifteen years. We kissed once when drunk. I think we were nineteen.”
Matěj looked sheepish. “Sorry.” He lifted his expressive eyes toward Simon.
“It’s okay,” Simon took another drag. The air was frigid. “Just don’t do it again.” He sighed again. “Drama queen.”
Matěj laughed loudly, and the corners of Simon’s mouth twitched as well. He loved the sound of Matěj laughing.
His phone dinged, and Simon dug it out of his coat pocket. It was a message from Lukas.
Discreet&careful&casual? Run!
Simon snapped his phone shut and put it back in his pocket.
