by Alexa Land
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Are you uncomfortable right now? Do you wish you were back home?” I asked.
“Well, no. But that’s because I’m totally focused on you.”
“Stay here with me. Let’s just shoot for twenty-four hours and see how it goes, okay?”
He mulled that over for a while, chewing on his full lower lip as he lightly caressed my back. Finally he said, “I can probably do that if you stay with me the entire time.”
I smiled and touched his handsome face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Zan still looked concerned, a worry line appearing between his brows. “Have you stopped to consider what you’re getting yourself into by becoming involved with me? You’d be hard pressed to find a man with more problems. As if that’s not enough, our age gap isn’t exactly trivial.”
“I don’t even notice our age difference. Do you?”
“No, but I probably should. It’s rather unseemly for a man of forty-eight to become involved with one of his son’s friends.”
“You don’t look or act your age,” I said. “Also, I’m seven years older than Christian.”
He grinned at that. “Oh, seven years. Well, that’s alright then.”
I reached behind me and picked my phone off the shelf as I told him, “Speaking of Christian, I’d better text him. If he’s seen you on the internet, he’s probably wondering what the hell’s going on.”
My friend called us back right after I sent the text. He sounded concerned, since of course he’d already seen the videos of his dad at the airport. “I’m sorry I worried you,” Zan told him before answering a barrage of questions.
It took a while to reassure Christian, and when they finally disconnected, Zan sighed quietly. “I’ve been such a disaster throughout most of his life. He moved in with me when he was fifteen and assumed almost a parental role. The kicker is, I let him. I was too much of a mess to take care of him, so he took care of me instead. I’ve been such a burden to him.”
“He loves you so much, Zan. I’m sure he doesn’t consider you a burden.”
“But I have been, and I’m absolutely determined not to do the same thing to you. I wanted to prove something to myself and hopefully to you today. I wanted to prove I can change.”
He dropped his gaze, looking down at my dark blue bedspread, and added, “I almost didn’t make it out of my fucking house. I didn’t tell you about the huge panic attack that left me curled up on the floor of my garage for a while, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. I also didn’t tell you that I was shaking so hard when I finally got myself off the ground and onto that mower that I could barely work the controls. I was fucking terrified, but I couldn’t stop. In part, it was because I was determined to see you. But also, I knew if I let myself fail, I’d never, ever leave that place again, not until they wheeled my dead body out at some point in the distant, or not so distant, future.”
“Oh God, Zan,” I murmured.
He said, “The point of this long, embarrassing story is that I really am going to try to get it together for you, Gianni. You deserve so much more than a broken shell of a man. I’ll do whatever it takes to give us a fighting chance. I don’t know if it’ll be enough, or if my problems are even fixable. But I’m damn well going to try.”
I gathered him into my arms and his lips met mine. His soft, tender kisses soon turned hungry and he tugged at my shirt, untucking it from my jeans so he could slide his hand under it and caress my back. When I took my shirt off for him, his hands and mouth slid over my bare skin. He seemed almost desperate for me, sucking one nipple and then the other before running his tongue up my neck and kissing my ear. I gave myself over to it completely, my cock throbbing as he all but consumed me. I’d never felt so desired, even though I knew his urgency was just a byproduct of all those years of celibacy.
Zan undressed me as he continued to explore my body, and once I was completely naked I knelt between his legs and unbuttoned the fly of his 501s, freeing his thick, swollen cock. When I ran my tongue up his length, he stifled a cry, grabbing my pillow and biting down on it. I smiled at that. If one lick had that effect, what I was about to do to him was probably going to render him unconscious.
I wrapped my lips around his shaft and sucked him, gently at first, then with increasing speed and pressure, taking my cues from his moans. I put my hands behind my back, grabbing my wrists to keep from reaching for him, and concentrated on using my mouth and tongue to pleasure him. It didn’t take long to bring him to orgasm. He yelled into the pillow, his legs shaking and his hips coming up off the mattress. I swallowed his cum automatically as it flooded my mouth. I liked the way he tasted. It was a bit unusual, sweet and delicate, an interesting side effect of his clean, limited diet.
Once he was totally spent I eased off him, carefully tucking him in and buttoning his fly for him. Then I eagerly went for my reward, snuggling against his side. When he put his arms around me and held me tightly, I smiled and let my eyes slide shut, relaxing into his embrace.
It was a few moments before he could speak, his breathing gradually leveling out. When he did, he said, “Bloody hell Gianni, that was astonishing. Thank you. I realize I’ve been benched a long time, but I don’t remember it ever being even remotely that good.” I smiled again, basking in his praise.
He rolled over so he was facing me and pulled me close again, my head resting on his bicep as he draped a leg over my thighs. It felt so incredibly wonderful to be wrapped up in him like that. I burrowed deeper into his arms, which in turn made him hold me tighter. Zan kissed my hair and after a while, he said softly, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Ask me anything,” I murmured.
“Why did you do that with your hands when you were sucking me? Putting them behind your back, I mean?”
My eyes flew open and I looked up at him as I said quickly, “I’m sorry. I can do it differently next time. I didn’t know what you preferred.”
His voice was gentle when he said, “It wasn’t a criticism, love. I just wondered why you’d done it.”
I broke eye contact and murmured, “Because that’s the way I was trained. A good blow job shouldn’t rely on using my hands to increase stimulation. I put them behind my back so I could focus on how I was sucking you. But I can change. I can do it however you want.” My contentedness fell away, replaced with a feeling of disappointment in myself. I’d wanted this to be so good for him.
“What do you mean, trained? By whom?” His voice was still so soft.
“My first boyfriend. He taught me how to pleasure a man. But like I said, I can do it differently. You can teach me what you like.”
“How old were you, Gianni?”
“Seventeen,” I admitted quietly.
“How old was he?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“Bloody hell,” he whispered. “No wonder you think nothing of our age difference.”
“It’s not like it sounds,” I told him, still avoiding eye contact. “He didn’t force me or take advantage of me or anything. He actually took good care of me.”
“Did your family know about him?”
“Not until later. When I was nineteen, I moved in with him. They didn’t know it had already been going on for a couple years at that point. I knew how it looked and knew they’d jump to conclusions about him, so I thought it was best to just keep it quiet at first.”
Zan asked, “How long were you involved with him?”
“Four years.”
“What ended it?”
I shrugged and said, “He just got tired of me after a while.”
“What did you do then?”
“I moved back home. I was there for about nine months before my next lover asked me to move in with her.”
“With her. You’re bisexual like I am,” Zan murmured.
I nodded. “My stronger preference is for men, that’s who I’ve been with ninety percent of the time, but I’ve also been with a
total of three women. My most recent real relationship was with a woman, actually. She was kind to me and treated me with respect, and I was so sad when she died. Later on, I was completely humiliated when her nephews accused me of being a whore, took me to court and took away everything she’d given me, including a house that I was quite attached to. Six months after she passed, I got involved with one more woman. She only kept me a few weeks though, and got sick of me in the middle of a Mediterranean cruise. That was special. I flew myself home after she found herself a hotter, younger guy.”
“You really know how to pick ‘em,” Zan murmured.
“Actually, I never pick anyone. They pick me.” The conversation was starting to make me feel pretty vulnerable and I wished I wasn’t naked, but I made no move to get up and get dressed since Zan was still holding me.
“Have all your relationships been with people older than you?” I nodded again. Since I still wasn’t looking at him, he put a fingertip under my chin and tilted my head up gently, until I made eye contact. “Why do you think that is?”
“That dynamic just feels comfortable to me. I dated guys my age a few times, but I just didn’t get that same feeling of security or of being cared for.” As soon as he let go of my chin, I dropped my gaze again, putting my head on his chest.
He mulled that over for a while before asking quietly, “What is it that you like about me, Gianni? It sounds like my age is the only thing that would fit your criteria. I doubt I’d inspire feelings of security, and it’s far more likely that you’d be the one taking care of me if this grows into a relationship, not the other way around.”
“It’s not a question of totaling up a series of checkmarks to see if you make the cut. I’m incredibly attracted to you, Zan. It’s that simple.”
“Well, that’s quite mutual.”
After a pause, I said hesitantly as I held on to him, “Maybe...maybe if this grows into something we could take care of each other.”
“You’re so sweet,” he told me, holding me a little tighter. “I would never in a million years have expected you to be so shy and vulnerable once I got you in bed. I also never expected to get you in bed, incidentally, but that’s a different point entirely.”
“I can try to be more assertive during sex if you want. I know not everyone likes guys that are a hundred percent submissive. Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”
“That wasn’t a criticism, love, and I don’t want you to bend to the will of others, not mine or anyone else’s. I want you to enjoy yourself and just be who you are. What is it that you want, Gianni?”
“I want to make you happy and I want you to feel incredibly good.”
“What if I want exactly the same thing for you?”
I looked up at him, searching his green eyes. “Pleasing you will give me so much pleasure. I don’t just pretend to be submissive for the sake of others. Making you feel good really is what I need.”
“The term submissive worries me, because it suggests that I in turn should be a Dom, and that’s not who I am.”
I said, “There’s more than one definition of a submissive. Mine doesn’t have anything to do with whips and pain.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I should mention that I’m almost one hundred percent a bottom, though. I hope that’s okay.”
“Fine with me. But out of curiosity, how did that work when you were dating women?”
I looked away again. “A woman can absolutely sexually dominate a man. I did whatever they asked of me, whether that meant letting them fuck me with a dildo or fucking them when they told me to.”
After another pause, Zan asked, “Why is it that you can’t look me in the eye when you’re talking about your sex life?”
“Because I know how all of this sounds.”
“How does it sound?”
“Some members of my family think I’m a prostitute. Not all of them, but some. They’ve watched me give myself to one older lover after another and let them take care of me in all ways, including financially. That’s not what I am, but I’ve gotten used to being judged for my relationships.”
“So, you’re afraid to maintain eye contact because you think you’re going to see judgment in my eyes?” When I shrugged, he said softly, “Look at me, Gianni.”
I did as I was told. Zan smiled at me, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not only am I not judging, I completely get it. I spent my early twenties with a boyfriend eleven years older than I was. In a lot of ways, he defined my sexuality for me, and I let him because I had no idea who I was at that point. After we broke up, I tried anything and everything in an effort to figure out what I really wanted. I dated men and women interchangeably and even got married a couple times. Oh, and I was in a ménage relationship for four months at some point in the early nineties. Can’t forget that one.”
“Really, a ménage? How’d that work out?”
“Not well at all. I’m crap at sharing.”
I grinned and said, “So, after all that, what did you learn about yourself?”
He smiled again. “Not a bleedin’ thing. Some of it was pretty fun, though. I don’t know why I got so lucky, by the way, and somehow never wound up with a social disease after all I did. Luck favors the stupid, apparently.”
“You, um...you were married to someone else when you got Christian’s mom pregnant,” I said. It wasn’t a question, but I really wondered what he had to say about that.
“I’m surprised he told you.”
“He didn’t, actually, I just did the math. After I got the job assisting you, I watched a documentary about your life. A quarter of it discussed your marriage to that actress, Dev Holland, I guess because she’s so famous. Then I realized those years were right when Christian was born.”
“What made you want to watch a documentary about me?”
“I was trying to make sense of you. It didn’t help.”
Zan grinned at that. “If you want to know anything, feel free to ask. I won’t ever keep secrets from you, Gianni.”
“Thanks. But...I mean, your past isn’t really my business.”
“Sure it is. You deserve to know exactly who you’re getting involved with. As you’ll find out, I’ve done many things I’m not proud of, including cheating on both of my wives. There was so much I didn’t understand back then, including what it meant to be in a committed relationship. Blaming it on the drugs and alcohol would be a cop-out. The truth is, I was an immature, self-entitled wanker. I don’t think I started out that way, but that’s what fame did to me. All these people were telling me I was something special, and after a while, I guess I started to believe it.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I like to think I’ve been in a long-term dipshit recovery program. One thing solitude does is give you plenty of time to reflect. Having a child put a lot of things into perspective too, and taught me what it meant to truly love someone. When Christian was born, his mother didn’t want me to be a part of his life, which should tell you about the type of person I was back then. She said it was because she didn’t want him to grow up hounded by the paparazzi, and that’s partly true. But she also thought I was too much of a narcissistic arse to be a good dad. She figured I’d tire of him eventually and abandon him, the same way I left her.”
“But you didn’t abandon either of them. I know you still help both her and your son financially to this day, because I overheard him talking about it once. And Christian told me how you took him in no questions asked when he showed up on your doorstep at fifteen.”
Zan grinned a little. “I didn’t do everything wrong, only most of it. I like to think I’ve gotten better with time.”
“You have. You’re not even sort of this guy you’re describing,” I told him, and he kissed my shoulder.
“It’s kind of you to give me the benefit of the doubt. I hope that continues to be your opinion as you get to know me.”
His lids were getting heavy, so I said, “Do y
ou want to get under the covers and nap for a while? You already seemed tired before we came upstairs, and then I engaged you in this long conversation.”
“It’s been an absolute joy to talk to you. I regret being too stupid to manage that all those months you were coming to my house.”
“Well, we can continue after you’ve rested a bit,” I told him.
He helped me pull the blanket out from beneath us. Once we were tucked under it, worry appeared in his eyes and he asked, “Will you be here when I wake up?”
“I will, Zan. I’ll be right here.”
He looked relieved. “I’m sorry to be so clingy, but this will be the first time in ages that I’ll be waking up in an unfamiliar place.”
I touched his cheek and said, “I know, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Chapter Twelve
I’d been true to my word. Zan ended up sleeping all afternoon and through the night, and awoke to find his head on my lap and one of his arms strewn across my thighs. He blinked a few times as he tried to process where he was and what was happening.
At some point I’d dressed in a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and was propped up against the headboard with my phone, texting back and forth with Yosh. I’d gone through my many messages while Zan slept and texted everyone who’d contacted me after seeing the airport videos. Overnight, the story had absolutely exploded, and Zan’s reappearance was the main topic on most of the major news outlets.
“Good morning,” I said with a smile, reaching down and brushing his long, dark hair back from his face. It was shot through with just a bit of grey, which I found really sexy.
He sat up and looked around. “Oh hell, is it morning? I can’t believe I slept that long.”
“You obviously needed it. Yesterday was pretty harrowing.”
“You’ve been here the entire time, haven’t you?” When I nodded, Zan said, “I’m sorry you had to babysit me like that. It must have been incredibly boring for you.”
