The word seemed to slap Rolly in the face. “It might have started out that way, but it could have turned into love. What knows?”
“Love,” he spat out as if it was a dirty word. “You’re not mature enough to know what love is. Hell, you don’t even know how to love a cat, much less a man. You know what all this has shown me? It’s not love you feel, Rolly, it’s selfishness, ownership, control, and it all comes from that damned egotistical nature of yours. I know all about it, because I have it too. You’ve had something taken away from you, and come hell or high water, you’re going to get it back no matter what it takes. That’s where the trouble lies, Rolly. That determination to ruin lives is what tears people apart. That narcissistic, self-centeredness that plagues people like you and me. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather grow up than wallow in that pig slop called childishness. There comes a time when you have to put childish things behind you, and face the world like a man, not a stubborn, sulking child who’s had a toy taken away from him.”
Rolly’s eyes widened at the tirade, everything he said hitting home. “Well, I see I’ve made a mess of things. I’m sorry. All I can say is, it felt right at the time.” When he saw him turn to leave he asked, “When will I see you again?”
Franco gave a sarcastic snicker. “I don’t know, but it’ll be too soon for me.”
The look on Rolly’s face when he said it was the look you get when you’ve lost your best friend.
“If you feel bad, Rolly, I’m sorry, but it’s your fault. If you could have only acted like an adult instead of a stupid little kid. But I guess that was too much to hope for.”
“Since you and Dimitri…I mean, you’ll want to bring him here, so I’ll start looking for a place tomorrow.”
“Take your time.” He hesitated. “I don’t wish anything bad for you, Rolly. I just hope you’ve learned something from all this.”
Tears welled up in Rolly’s eyes as he watched Franco turn quickly and leave. The final blow came when he heard the door slam for the last time and the echo of his hurtful words that seemed to whirl in the air.
…face the world like a man…stubborn, sulking child…stupid little kid…
Franco was gone, and it was his own idiotic fault! Caught fast in his delusions, he imagined he could see two big hands grab each side of his world and pull.
The tear was gigantic…
The devastation of his world was so complete that he instantly whirled around, screaming out as he burst through the front door, and hurried out into the night.
He ran, blinded by loss. Around one corner, and then another. Up one avenue and down the other. Across busy streets full of honking cars, with his feet slapping into puddles that ran red with neon. And then suddenly, up ahead, he saw something that looked like an oasis that had been set down right in the middle of New York. But it wasn’t restful, or beautiful. Instead it resembled a nightmare. It was dark and haunting with the light of the moon spotlighting it, inviting him to come closer. He stopped running, and stared. He didn’t recall ever seeing it before. Just then he looked down at himself, and imagined he saw his naked, broken, bleeding heart, still pumping. He looked around, seeing the night around him become darker, the lights of the city dimming as he walked into the strange patch of grass, trees, bushes, and graveled pathways. As he continued to walk, he came to a place where he saw a sign.
Suicide Drop
As he walked up to it, he could see the twinkling lights of the city laying at the bottom of a ridge like a twinkling carpet. He looked down and saw that it was a steep, ugly fall to the bottom where one would be greeted with a gorge full of sharp rocks.
Suddenly he felt his foot slipping, and before he knew it, he was sliding down the side. Terror grabbed him, and he began calling out. In his mind he was yelling, “Dimitri, help!” But strangely enough, the last thing he saw before he slipped over the side wasn’t Dimitri’s face—but one whose twinkling eyes were looking at him amid an office full of stacks of paper, bullet holes, and a squeaking chair. Dear God, it was—Sherlock!
* * * *
He looked around, and instead of a muddy, leafy incline, he felt the coldness of a leather couch at his back, and a pair of twinkling, concerned eyes looking at him from out of a worried face. “What are you doing here?” He leaned forward. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my office.”
“Your office?” He looked around at the stacks of papers. “How did I get here? The last thing I remember was going over the side of Suicide Drop.”
“You did go over the side, but I caught you.”
“You? But what were you doing there?”
“It’s on my way home. When I was passing by I heard someone yelling for help, and ran in. There you were barely hanging off of a tree root, so I pulled you up.”
“Oh, my God. I don’t know what to say, except thanks.”
“What the hell were you doing out there, anyway? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? You might have been killed. How the hell did you get in? They closed that section of the park because of all the rain we’ve had. Even the guardrail became unhinged and was hanging down the side. Did you see a night guard? There’s supposed to be one there to keep the people out until the rail is fixed, and it dries up. Even the tours they usually give during the day have been discontinued until further notice.”
“All I remember is…I don’t know, I was talking to Franco, and the next thing I knew…” He looked over at Sherlock, knowing if it hadn’t been for him he might be dead right now.
“What did you do, catch me?”
“Just barely. I got there just as you fell and managed to catch hold of your hand. Because the mud was so slippery you were having a hard time holding on. Good thing I was there.” Sherlock chuckled. “I don’t know how I did it, but I finally managed to get you to safety, but not before I got down in the mud with you.” He looked down at himself. “We both look like we’ve been wallowing with the pigs.”
“I remember now. I was calling out for Dimitri, but I saw…” He looked up at Sherlock, at his dark hair, twinkling eyes, well-defined lips, and remembered his vision just before he jumped “…you.”
“No, you weren’t yelling for Dimitri, you called out my name…Sherlock.”
“I called for you?”
“You sure did.”
It was kismet. Even though he had intended to call out for Dimitri, his heart had called for Sherlock.
His heart wanted Sherlock.
At that moment the rip in Rolly’s world slowly came back together when he realized the truth. He wasn’t upset that he’d lost Dimitri, he was upset because he thought he’d lost Franco. Franco was his rock, his safety net, the older man in his life who had been a friend—a friend he needed. He’d lost his own father when he was very young, and hadn’t realized that he thought of Franco that way until he thought he’d lost him. It was like losing his father all over again, and poor Dimitri had just happened to get stuck in between.
Now that he knew the truth, his world righted itself. The stars shone again, the birds sang again, the cool, wet tide rolled upon the beach again—and the man with the twinkling eyes made him feel all warm inside. But this time he promised himself, he would handle this situation—as Franco had said—with maturity.
Chapter 9
A few days later…
“IS that blood I feel on my wrists,” Dimitri asked as he pulled and yanked his hands against the velvet scarves tied to the headboard.
“It’s sweat, baby, but we can pretend it’s blood if that’s more exciting.”
Franco’s beguiling words made him dizzy with desire, and with his face close, and his hot breath on his neck, a thrill so stark and edgy grabbed him and made him lose control. He bucked, his hands pulling at the scarves while Franco’s fingers traced a path down to his loins, and from there to his cock.
Dimitri prayed he would handle his manhood.
Lick it, squeeze it, eat it—make
him feel as if he were going to swallow it whole. And then it happened. He felt Franco’s hot tongue snake out and lick the head of his cock.
“Whooooah!” Dimitri cried out in surprise and sucked in his breath. He writhed, longing to feel the back of Franco’s throat. He was compelled to move his hips, to thrust deeper into the hot, moist heaven. He reached, he pushed, he thrashed about, feeling the sweetest agony he’d ever known.
“Take me deeper,” he finally said.
Franco, quick to please, managed it, the heat of his mouth surrounding him.
“Suck,” Dimitri said. The single word was all he had breath for. He could smell his own hot cream as it dripped from his cock, and wanted Franco to eat him as much as he wanted to draw his next breath. “Eat me,” he begged.
Franco rewarded him by swirling his tongue around Dimitri’s cock with the expertise of a Latin lover. The higher he took him toward satisfaction, the wilder Dimitri’s body began to buck, and thrust.
He wanted Franco to go deeper, to feel his depth as he sucked him. “Oh, God, Franco, eat me, swallow me, see how much of me you can take.”
When Franco did, Dimitri could feel his orgasm begging to burst. As it came closer and closer he could feel it heat up and roll over him like the tide of the ocean. “Oh, God, stop, Franco, or I’ll come in your mouth.”
Just then Franco pulled away and used his hand on Dimitri’s cock to take him the rest of the way. And then just before he heard Dimitri let go with a wild raucous moan, he felt his surrender.
When Dimitri lay awash in his own satisfaction, Franco leaned over him. “How was that, baby?”
“Unbelievable,” Dimitri answered, his breath coming quick.
Franco reached up and untied the scarves, allowing them to drift to the floor.
While Dimitri rubbed his chafed wrists, he said, “You’re so good to me, Franco, but that couldn’t have been very good for you. What is your favorite fantasy? I’ll make it come true.”
Franco looked at him closely for a moment, at the perfect face that was flushed after a workout of wild sex, at the hair that had a sexy mussed up look to it after writhing on a bed of love, and the perfect lips that he had kissed as they cried out in passion. Now that they were relaxed and happy, he said, “My fantasy is you, Dimitri, and it began that night on my front stoop.”
“What do you mean?”
“All right, Dimitri, here it is. We don’t need games, baby. The only reason I did this tonight, was for you. They’re crap, Dimitri, and I’ve been through enough crap in my lifetime. If we have a relationship we don’t need sex games. You either want me, or you don’t. Games be damned.”
“Are you dumping me?”
“Of course not. I’m just saying that I’m in a place now where life has become a lot more serious, and if my life isn’t going to include Rolly—”
Dimitri jerked his head around and looked at Franco with disbelief. “Not include…my God, Franco, is that what you think you have to do to be with me?”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“God, no! What the hell do you think I am? I wouldn’t ask you to give up a friendship for me.” He turned, jumped off the bed and began dressing. “If that’s what this has come down to, then I’m out of here. You go back to Rolly.” Suddenly he stopped what he was doing, his eyes welling up with tears, and turned to Franco. “What the fuck did I ever say to you that made you think that’s what I wanted?”
Franco was silent for a moment as he looked at Dimitri. “Nothing, really, I just assumed.”
“Assumed? You assumed I wanted you to choose between me and Rolly?”
When it finally sank into Franco’s understanding of what was happening, he sat down, shook his head, and then lowered it. “My God, I did it again, didn’t I?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“It’s my Latin blood again. To the Latin people love is everything. Like the French, they are passionate. Even to the point of giving up everything in their life for the one they love. That is why…” He shrugged, and then looked up at Dimitri. “You Americans, you cheat on your spouses, you go from one spouse to another. One day you love one, the next day you love another. It’s not this way with us. We are faithful. Once we find the one we want, that’s it.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I keep forgetting where I am.” He gave Dimitri a sheepish look. “Please forgive me.”
Dimitri exhaled, and then plopped down on the bed beside Franco. “Thank God we understand each other.” He looked over at Franco with a question in his gaze. “All right, now, what’s this game playing you were talking about?”
“Again, maybe…well, in our time together I’ve learned that the difference in our ages is a little wide. If I were with a man my own age there would be no games.”
“You mean like tying up my hands?”
“Dimitri, why do you need all that? Games, role playing, that only comes when you’ve grown tired of your partner, or there’s no excitement in your sex life anymore. It’s the games people play to spice up their sex life. We don’t need that, do we?”
Dimitri looked at Franco, and smiled. “God, I hope we never do. I was just trying to make it more interesting for you.”
“The day will come, I’m sure, when our sex drive will wane, our hair will be streaked with gray, our bodies old and bent, and our faces full of wrinkles, but even then, Dimitri, I would rather have you than some silly game.”
“Maybe we just haven’t found the right game yet.”
“So you still want a game, huh?”
“What do you have in mind?” Dimitri asked, and then stood to take off his clothes again.
“You know, there seems to be something very sexy about being partially dressed,” Franco said, looking at Dimitri with a cunning Dimitri hadn’t seen before.
“Hey, I can’t read your mind. What are you thinking?”
Franco just smiled. “Don’t touch a scrap of material. While you fuck me, I want to feel it against my skin, and I want you to make me cry out, and…”
“And what?”
“Tango!”
When Dimitri laughed, Franco grabbed Dimitri, curled his hand around the nape of his neck, and pulled him closer for a tongue-tangling kiss. While staying in sultry eye contact, Franco crawled back on the bed, turned over and lay on the bed with his cock flying high. “Cling to me like a vine,” he whispered.
Dimitri began crawling toward him like an animal on the prowl. When he approached Franco, he began running his fingernails across his chest making him gasp with a strangled moan.
“Come on, baby, give it to me,” Franco whispered. “Unravel me, I need it. Touch me, I’m your slave. I want you to wrap yourself around me. Cover me with all of what you are. Skin, meat, bones, flesh. I want to feel your full weight on me while you fuck my ass.”
Dimitri grabbed at his legs, opened them up, and then pushed them up. After opening his pants and pulling out his own cock, he lay over Franco, looking down into his eyes. Their lips were close. Dimitri’s warm breath covered Franco’s face as his lips pecked along his cheeks and neck. And then Franco’s hips began to move, their cocks and balls touching each other, rubbing, kissing, loving, and then Dimitri lay full body over Franco, his arms surrounding his head as he clung to him, his body moving against him.
“Oh, God, I can feel your clothes against my skin. It’s like…oh, God, it’s sexy. I’m being fucked by someone who wanted me so badly he didn’t even have time to undress.”
“Is he raping you?” Dimitri asked in a whisper just next to his ear. As soon as he’d said it, Dimitri began to move like a wild bull. He took Franco’s arms and lifted them up, and when he struggled he wouldn’t let him go.
“What are you doing?”
“Give it to me, you bastard!” Dimitri growled. “You want it, you know you do.”
“No!” Franco yelled as he writhed.
Dimitri continued to wrestle with him as he reached dow
n and grabbed his own cock, and with a mighty grip and a forceful movement, he found his hole and pushed his cock against it.
“Get off me!” Franco yelled.
Instead of doing as Franco demanded, Dimitri pushed himself into Franco’s hole, and began an in and out plunge.
“Oh, God!” Franco cried out. While he fought, Dimitri held him, his body wildly coming down on Franco as he continued to plunge in and out. After several minutes of forcing Franco into submission, he felt Franco’s hole squeezing his cock as it contracted over and over, and he knew Franco was just on the verge of an orgasm.
“I’m coming!” Franco finally cried out, and then yanked his hands out of Dimitri’s grasp, grabbed him, and the two men began a wild dance of rumble-tumble tango.
Later, Franco sat raking his fingers through his hair, and looking at Dimitri. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“I just had to show you who was boss. All this older man business is just in your mind. I’m as big as you are, as strong, and I just wanted to show you that I can mop the floor with you.”
“You know what? After that, I believe you could,” Franco said, laughing.
As the two looked at each other deeply, Franco felt a warm feeling inside to know that Dimitri didn’t expect him to cut off all contact with Rolly.
My God, what was he thinking?
Chapter 10
The next evening…
THE air in the room seemed heavy and stifled by worry. The growling wind, the sheets of lightning – everything seemed to spell danger. The weather didn’t seem to want to cooperate with Rolly’s happiness. Instead of a calm, beautiful night, a storm with high winds and rain threatened his little reunion with Franco and Dimitri. Now that he understood what was really bothering him, he was hoping he could mend his relationship with Franco, and kind of smooth over his relationship with Dimitri. All in all, he just wanted them to know that he was sorry for any hurt feelings he might have caused.
That Sweet Burn Page 9
