“How?” Apparently, I’m a man of very few words right now.
“I want to find out how to be happy. How not to let other people’s expectations grind me down! I want to find better friends, who tell me off when I’m a bastard, and stop me drinking when I’ve had enough. I want to find friends who will have my back when I mess up. I want to try not to mess up. I suppose that’s my fantasy. I want to be happy, with great friends and a boy... partner. A grown-up adult relationship. Great fun sex. I just want that. Happiness. Love. Fun. All in a neat package. “
“Fantasies are good. Reality is a shit place to be in.”
“I know that,” he sighs. “Still, even if this is not real life, and perhaps you are right, perhaps you and I are a really bad idea, but... we could still play along with it, like, you know...”
“Pretend?” I laugh. He’s ridiculous. And I am falling more and more in love with him by the second. I want to scoop him up and love him and protect him from everything that’s wrong in the world. I want to yell at his parents for not looking out for him. I want to kick his crap friends in the teeth. Not really. I don’t know who his friends are. I still hate them, because he says he needs better ones.
“We can pretend,” he says, and bounces up and down on the sofa, crossing his legs and getting himself comfortable. “Let’s say, it’s snowing really hard outside, and my car has broken down, so you have invited me in for a cup of tea, because the rescue services will take hours to attend, and I was standing out there in the street, all alone, getting belted by the snow.”
“Good try.” I laugh. “We’re both mechanics. Well, I am, and I have a feeling you know your way around under a car bonnet too, so why are we not fixing your car?”
“I’ve got a sore arm.” He giggles, holding his arm in a pretend sling. “Broke it as I skidded off the road.”
“Oh dear. Do you need an ambulance?” I’m playing along, because he is happy and I’m having too much fun to stop. Even if I should. Stop.
“There are no hospitals here. We are in the middle of nowhere.” He says dramatically as a police siren breaks the silence, and we both laugh as the blue lights light up the room, as the police car passes by in the street outside.
“So, have we got electricity?” I suggest, and Andreas jumps up and kills the ceiling light.
“Oops!” He declares. “We just lost power. Have you got candles?”
“Who do you think I am?” I mock shout. “I’m a car mechanic, not some… Kirstie Allsopp kind of homely person. I don’t have candles. I’m like my mum. I would forget I lit them and burn the flat down.”
“Did your mum burn your house down?” He says dramatically. “Poor you. Was that before or after you ended up in jail, then you redeemed yourself and built your car business from scratch. Wait, did you learn all about mechanics in jail?”
“You have watched too many bad Netflix movies.” I laugh. “And you are insane.”
“Nope. We are still doing this fantasy thing. It’s my idea of an ideal Christmas. I have set the scene and now we are freezing cold, my car is fucked, and… ohhh!”
I’m clearly hallucinating, as he starts undressing himself, pulling his jumper over his head and letting it drop to the floor.
“Stop!” I shout.
“Do we need a safe word?” He says and drops his jeans, stepping out of them, leaving him standing in the dark, wearing nothing but socks and boxers, I can see that much in the dull light from the streetlights outside the windows. “My safe word is stop. Just stop. If I say stop, I mean it. Okay?”
“Your safe word is... stop. Right. And exactly why would we need a safe word?”
“Just in case, you know. Tell me what you’re into. What do you want? What turns you on? What goes on in those fantasies, the ones that I’m in? What do you do to me?”
He smiles. Winks. Plays with the hem of his boxers.
I shake my head. Sigh. I don’t know what to say. There is nothing I can tell him without me sounding like a man who should be in jail. Because some of my fantasies are just that. Fantasies. And in some of them? I don’t know.
“I don’t know…I don’t know what I want right now.” That’s what I say, and for once my whole body agrees. I’m feeling faint, panicked, full of laughter and terrified, all at the same time. And my cock once again reminds me that I have an unfortunate boner going on down below. God help me.
Andreas
His hand is warm as I reach out and pull him off the sofa. His body is hot against my bare skin as well, because he’s hugged me before, so I think a hug will be safe, so I dive straight in there, wrapping my arms around his neck like a warm little clingy monkey. A good plan, I decide, as his hand rubs my back, and his breath is warm against my nakedness, because, yeah.
Okay. I need to step back, because I am impulsive and weird, and next thing I’ll be bent over the sofa whilst he rips me in half with his monster dick.
I have no idea if he has a monster dick.
“In my fantasies, you have a monster dick.” I giggle.
“You fantasise... about me?” He stutters out, his mouth somewhere near my ear.
“I do now.” I laugh, because this? “This is hot.”
“You are so bloody beautiful, it makes my head spin.” He whispers. “I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know if I want to throw you out and shout at you, or put you in my bed and never let you leave.”
“Both of those seem like creepy options. I would much prefer if you took all your clothes off and got into bed with me. That's what I had planned... in this... you know, roleplay fantasy thing we were doing.”
“You want to be naked in bed with me? I thought this wasn’t a hookup.”
I lean back so I can grab his junk, and he jumps a mile. Probably not the best of my impulsive ideas here, but what can I do?
“You have an impressive boner going on, and I’m getting cold. We should definitely get naked in bed. Just to cuddle. And if you get uncomfortable with that monster dick of yours, we could do something about it. If not? It’s fine, Luca. This is not a hookup. I am staying the night, and I don’t care what you say.”
“You’re staying the night?”
“My imaginary car is fucked in this imaginary snowstorm, and I can’t think of anything nicer than waking up tomorrow morning in your bed with a nice cup of tea and a cuddle. I haven’t got a gift for you, but I can pick something up tomorrow. I mean... Have you got plans? For tomorrow?”
I haven’t even asked. My head is going at three hundred miles an hour, and I’m talking too much and saying stupid things. This is who I am. This is what I do. This is what I’m like with men I pick up and suddenly I realise that I have learned... absolutely nothing.
“I need to see my family,” he mumbles, with obvious discomfort in his tone. “We have gifts to open and all that. My dad’s cooking lunch.” He’s squirming with his hands on my hips, and I’m shivering, despite the room being nice and warm. It’s dark, and that in a way is good, because the darkness gives me time to calm down. Think. Breathe.
“I could come with you, if you want me to, or I can just fuck off home. It’s your call.” That’s nice and adult. Sensible. I mentally high five myself as he leans over and places a kiss on my shoulder. In the dark. Something that sends crazy shivers down my spine. Not a bad, crazy shivers, may I add. The crazy shivers that are good. I like it. “Do that again.” I whisper.
“What?” he whispers back. Apparently now we are whispering.
“Can I stay? I’ll... I’ll calm down with the fantasy thing.”
He smiles. I can feel it, despite barely being able to make out his face. “This is sooooo a hookup.”
“This is NOT a hookup.” I emphasise, but I’m smiling too. “This is whatever we decide it is. We can do, nothing, or cuddle and go to sleep. Or just go to sleep. Or we can play out some of those fantasies in that head of yours and have sex.”
“Sex.” He shakes his head, still holding onto me, his hands moving gentl
y to my back as he pushes me further into his hold. I’m now pressed up against his dressing gown, and the belt knot is digging into my guts. “Why is it always about sex?” He mutters into my hair.
“Because sex is fun, and it makes us feel good. But it’s not everything, I would be really happy just to get into bed with you. Lie down, you know. Under the covers.”
“You’re the one who took all your clothes off.” he teases.
“You’re the one sending all the mixed signals right now.” I tease back, pushing away and untying his dressing gown. “Can I take this off? You’re too hot.”
“I’m not hot.”
“You are very haaawwt.” I drawl, shivering again with his fingers running down my arms.
“I should go brush my teeth.”
“I should go home, but I’m still here. Get in the bed, Luca.”
“Are you always this bossy?”
“I’m the Sales Manager, remember? I help people to buy beautiful cars and make them spend insane amounts of money to make them even prettier.”
“You’re pretty. Cars are just metal.”
“I—” I start to say something and immediately forget what I am thinking, because Luca Germano has cupped my chin and is now pressing his lips against mine, and my head short circuits for a minute or two. His lips are full and soft, and he kisses like a porn star. I didn’t expect that, not with him. He kisses me like he’s devouring me, and then he presses little kisses to my jaw and my cheeks and up on my temples as I whine like an injured animal until he’s back kissing my mouth. Then I moan into his mouth and wrap my arms back up around his neck.
“Clothes. Please.”
“On or off?” he teases, as his tongue licks my bottom lip. I purr like a bloody kitten, his hands stroking down my chest, stopping briefly to caress my nipples. He’s... a tease. I’m surprised, and somewhere in the back of my brain I cheer, because I think I might like this. I think I might just like this, a lot.
This is the point where blokes usually pick me up and toss me on the bed. That bit is usually arousing, well, apart from that time I hit my head on the bedpost and bled everywhere. But with Luca? He just walks me backwards, and lets me sink onto the bed as he crawls on top of me, and then his hoodie comes off.
“Put the light on.” I say sternly.
“Why?”
“Bloody tease, because I want to see you!”
The light comes on, and he’s smiling. “What happened to the power cut?” he giggles, and I realise that I love his smile. He looks genuinely happy, all crinkly around the eyes and he’s got cute dimples and yeah. “You’re going to break my heart into a million pieces.” He says softly and kisses me again, as my hands run up and down his chest. He’s hairy, I thought he would be, with all the stubble on his face, and with his olive skin and a firm, defined chest I’m in man-heaven.
“Nobody is getting their heart broken here.” I say dreamily, because nothing in my head makes sense right now. He’s gorgeous, and he is kissing down my ribs making me giggle, and I’m trying to get under the covers, which is impossible since he is kneeling on the edge of the duvet, so instead I shimmy out of my boxers. Because, yeah. I have a boner brewing down there. I’m enjoying this, and he knows what he’s doing.
“I thought, you said, you… I thought you were kind of inexperienced or something.” I huff out, trying to form full-on sentences when my brain is short-circuiting in random bursts of crazy. He’s supposed to suck my dick next. That’s the usual order of things. Instead, he’s kissing up the inside of my leg, making me squirm, and now the lights are on I kind of regret asking for them, because I might normally be all confident about my body, but suddenly Luca Germano is making me feel small and insecure. I don’t work out. I’m skinny and bony and my dick kind of matches my size.
“You’re amazing, so bloody gorgeous.” he says, and wets his bottom lip as I look up. I shouldn’t, because he smiles, then kisses the top of my poor penis, that promptly jerks with joy.
“I have a small dick.” I say, throwing my arm over my eyes. There, it’s out. He’s seen it. He’s also seen my knobbly knees, and bony feet, and all the other parts of my body that I am usually okay with putting on display. The men I bring home are usually only interested in my mouth and my arse anyway, but Luca seems to be working over my whole body, his mouth and hands seemingly everywhere in random patterns, like I might disappear before he has time to map out every millimetre of my skin.
“Your dick is the cutest thing I have ever seen.” He comes back up to my face, and kisses my fingers that I’m trying to hide behind. “You are the cutest thing ever.”
“I’m... I talk too much, never think before I speak. I flirt and I mess up, and I’m…”
“You’re a brat.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“I like you. I think I even like the real you.”
“What am I like in your fantasies then?” I smile through my fingers, and let him kiss me. I kiss him back too. Lots.
“You are pretty much like this, just, in my fantasies you are madly in love with me. You know...and even brattier….”
“And I fulfil all your sexual needs. What are they, by the way? What are you into?”
“I’ll let you do anything to me,” he says quietly. Luca Germano is full of shit. Because honestly?
“You would let me do you?”
“If that’s what you want, then yeah.”
“Bullshit. You are the least bottomy bottom I have ever met.”
“I have bottomed. I just... I like topping.”
“I prefer to bottom. I just like it, as long as the top knows what they are doing. But, you know, I’ll take it anyway it comes…”
He laughs, and I realise, it’s a life-changing realisation, because it sure feels like it. I’m doing it again. I just bend over backwards for other people, over and over again. I feel like crying. I feel like kissing him, so I grab his neck and lunge at him. I kiss his stupid lips, I kiss his stupid face, and he laughs under my assault, and I laugh back into his mouth.
I’ve been so stupid. Well, I knew that already, always pleasing other people, looking for sex and then getting myself nothing in return.
“If I tell you what I am into, would you hate me?”
“Why would I hate you? I already told you, that I saw you and fell in love. That hasn’t changed. It wouldn’t change, just because you told me you hate blow jobs, or refuse to ever rim me.”
“You fell in love with me without even saying a word to me. Well apart from ‘No!’ And anyway, I love giving head, and I don’t mind rimming, you know, maybe in the shower. Do you like it?”
“I said no, because I didn’t want to be one of your one-night-stands,” he says quietly. “I want to be more than that.”
“I never stay the night when I hook up with blokes—”
He interrupts me with his hand over my mouth. “I don’t want to know about other blokes.”
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I want to stay with you, here. I always bottom, I really don’t top, at all. I tried, but I get all awkward, and it’s hard work and I worry about not coming to the point of faking it, and then people…”
He covers my mouth again, letting his fingers trace my lips and his mouth kiss my forehead. “Do you come just from being fucked?” He says, “...or do you need my hand too? Or I can fuck you until you are almost there and then suck you off. I want you to enjoy this, and it’s no fun for me if you’re not enjoying it.”
“I’ll enjoy it.” I reassure him, wrapping my legs around his body.
“I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”
Here come the tears again. Nobody has ever said that to me. Usually it’s more of a, “Buckle up, babe, and take my huge cock,” kind of crap that blokes spill out as they press bruises into my hips. Instead I am lying here in a boneless, beating-heart, emotional puddle as Luca strokes my cheeks. Kisses my forehead. Lets his fingers move a stray curl out of my face.
“You’ll get sick and tired o
f me one day.” I say. Self-preservation, I suppose, because this? This is unreal. This is the kind of thing that happens to other people.
“Never.” He kisses me again. And again.
He produces a tube of lube from seemingly nowhere, which makes me giggle, as he lubes up his fingers, almost too methodically.
“Are you alright with me touching you?” He asks, and all I can do is nod.
This, is so out of my comfort zone. Yet, I think I might be loving every second. He strokes my back, then my butt and then down my arse, and almost expertly manoeuvres me around until he’s spooning me. It’s a new position for me, but it kind of works, with him being a bit taller, and he tips my chin so he can kiss me as his fingers slowly rub up and down between my legs. I’ll have lube everywhere at this rate, but I don’t care, because he’s gentle, soothing and stroking, adding a bit more lube as he raises my leg up to my chest, and I just lie there letting myself be pampered with kisses and little giggles. He knows what he’s doing, and fuck everything. He presses a finger inside of me, and I moan like I’m having an orgasm. I’m not, not yet, but I have a feeling he will have me tipped over the edge in no time. Then there are two fingers, and I tense up for a second, as he kisses me and tells me to relax. He’s not going to hurt me.
“I’m... nervous,” suddenly spills out, and just saying it out loud? I never do. I let people do what they want to me. I suddenly don’t know why. Why?
“I think you are perfect. I know that sounds crazy, but I do. I’ve been dreaming of doing this to you, forever. So, don’t be nervous, because all I want is for you to lie here and…”
“You’re good at this.” I pant out in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine. Because he’s got two full fingers up my arse, and he is stroking and prodding in there, and then suddenly he fucks me with his fingers at a crazy speed, and yup... Hello, that’s that prostate thing, and my body is having some kind of out-of-body experience as my legs jerk and I laugh out loud hysterically.
Ship of Fools Page 7
