Mr. Beautiful

by R. K. Lilley

I didn't believe him, but I kissed him for that, for the way his words made my heart race and my breath catch. We didn't pull back for a very long time, and when we did, I felt out of control.

  "Come to the bathroom with me. Fuck my mouth, Stephan. I want you to do whatever you want to me with this big cock of yours. Anything."

  "You never get to fuck me, you understand?" I growled at him, gripping his hair to the point of pain. "I don't do that. Not ever. I won't even consider it."

  "That's fine. That's fine."

  He sounded like he meant it, and I let him tug me into the bathroom.

  I had a brief moment of lucid thought, as he sat on the closed toilet in the tiny confined space, frantically undoing my pants, that in all my life I'd never done a thing so sordid, even when I'd traded my body for shelter. But I quickly lost all lucidity as I sprang into his eager hands, and he went to work on me with his mouth.

  I hadn't had a lot of partners, and I'd never had a blow job like the one Javier performed on me.

  He deep-throated me, sucking until my vision blurred.

  I didn't last thirty seconds.

  I bit my lip not to shout as I came, my tip deep in his throat. I felt his muscles work as he swallowed every drop.

  Perhaps there is some advantage to hooking up with a slut, I thought.

  He was talented.

  He stood up to kiss me when he'd sucked out every drop, still stroking me with his hand.

  I flushed hotly when he pulled back. "I usually last longer than that."

  He just smiled, looking happy to the point of joyful. "It was a BJ. You aren't supposed to last long, if I'm doing it right."

  I raised my hand to stroke his lower lip. "You're very good at that. How often do you find yourself sucking off strangers in airplane bathrooms?"

  All of the joy died from his eyes, and I was instantly sorry. Most slutty gay men weren't sensitive about being slutty, but I'd clearly put my foot in my mouth. "That came out wrong."

  "I don't know what you've heard about me, but I haven't slept around in a very long time. I just . . . liked you."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insulting."

  "Will you workout with me in the morning?"

  "Okay," I agreed, since he clearly wasn't going to let it go.

  "I want you to fuck me," he said, pulling back to stare at my cock, which was starting to swell again in his stroking hand.

  I swallowed hard. "God, you're forward."

  "Not always. Not usually. Touch me. Please."

  I reached down, gripping him, stroking him through his pants. It was the first contact I'd had with that part of him. I loved the feel of him in my hands, hard and straining. He was more elegantly made than I was, though still a good size.

  "Come to my room and fuck me tonight. I don't even care if you get me off. I just want you to take me."

  "This is moving too fast," I told him. "We haven't even been on a date yet."

  He blinked up at me, slow, hypnotizing blinks. "You want to date me?"

  I didn't think I actually did. I still didn't know anything about him. We hadn't even had any real conversation yet. But his tone had been so hopeful, so unabashedly delighted, and flattered, that I found myself saying, "Isn't that the way this usually works?"

  He hugged me. "Not for me. Not with guys like you."

  Maybe I did want to, I found myself thinking.

  He was much sweeter than he let on. Sweet could soften my heart like nothing else.

  "How about tomorrow night?" I said slowly, working it out in my head. "I'll take you to dinner, maybe a movie?"

  He squeezed me tighter. "I'd love that. Just the two of us?"

  I laughed. "It is a date. Do you usually go on dates with more than two people?"

  He pulled back to look at me, kissing my chin, and then my mouth, just pecks. "Will Bianca be okay with it?"

  "She never minds staying in to read, and I'll bring her some takeout."

  "So she is just a friend . . . right?"

  "More than that. She's my family. My whole world."

  "But not your lover?"

  "No, not that."

  "Good," he said, then pushed up to kiss me.

  I gripped his hair and kissed him back. I was fully hard again when I tore my mouth away. I was still hanging out of my pants, and I glanced down as I started to grind against his own constrained bulge.

  With a moan, he pulled my mouth back to his. He was the sweetest kisser, his lips soft but hesitant, not for lack of finesse, but almost a timid restraint, as though to communicate with the give of his mouth how he wanted me to proceed. How he wanted me to take over. That was more than fine with me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DON'T GET HURT

  Bianca was ecstatic when I told her I had a date.

  She was less thrilled when I told her whom it was with, but still supportive.

  Bianca was not a romantic, but she knew that I was, and so worried about my love life.

  I worried about hers more. I knew that all of the trauma she'd suffered as a kid had left parts of her cold. Untouchable.

  She didn't go out with guys. They asked, but I'd never seen her so much as consider it. The only person she let in was me. And who could blame her, after all she'd been through?

  It made me sad, but I didn't know what I could do to change it.

  "So he asked you out on the flight . . . or vice versa? This all came out of nowhere." Her tone was curious more than anything else.

  I flushed. "I guess he hit on me first, but I'm the one that asked him out."

  "Oh. Well, you must have hit it off. You don't usually work so fast."

  The flush turned into an outright blush. She'd as good as asked, and I couldn't keep anything from her for long, even things that embarrassed me. "We hooked up in the first class bathroom."

  Her eyes widened, mouth falling open. It was hard to shock her like this, and it made me smile a little to see her usually composed face react like that.

  "Wow. Just wow. How did that happen?"

  I bit my lip and tried to give it to her straight. "I hardly know him, but I'm really attracted to him. He made a pass at me, and I just . . . couldn't, or didn't want to, tell him no. Now we're going out because I guess I just want to see if it's more than chemistry."

  She nodded, face serious and studying mine now. "Okay. Well, good luck. Don't get hurt."

  I kissed her forehead on my way out. "I'll try my best. I'll bring you back takeout."

  "You don't have to do that. I can find my own food."

  "I want to. I'm taking him to that Cuban place we love."

  "Oh, well then, I'll take you up on that."

  "Your usual?"

  She nodded and smiled, giving me a thumbs up.

  I took him to a movie first. An action flick that had been out for several weeks. The theatre was deserted without another soul in sight, and he seemed more interested in touching me than watching the movie.

  I didn't know what to make of that. This was supposed to be a first date, not an excuse to get off in public again.

  That being said, I wanted to get off again. I wasn't proud of it, but my resolve was weakening with every touch.

  "Don't you like the movie?" I asked.

  He was plastered to my side, kissing my neck, his hand teasing my thigh. "I don't know. I can't pay attention."

  "Are you bored?"

  He was panting in my ear. "Bored?" His hand found my aching cock. "Does this feel bored to you?"

  I swallowed, my hand finally sliding off my knee onto his. "This is supposed to be a first date. I don't hook up on first dates."

  "Let's have our first date another time then. Let's call this something else, something where this ends with you fucking me, or me giving you a hand job in a movie theatre."

  I shook my head, trying not to smile, not to encourage his audacity.

  I grabbed his hand, pulling it off me, then linking our fingers together.

  He seemed okay, even conte
nt, with that, squeezing my hand and shooting me happy smiles.

  I didn't know what to make of that. Did he think I'd only been asking him out to hookup?

  Things were going well up until the short walk from the theatre to the restaurant, when he grabbed my hand where anyone could see.

  I shook him off, shooting him a look. "Knock it off! Not in public, okay?"

  He looked baffled. "What does it matter?"

  "We could run into someone we know. We're only a ten minute walk from the crew hotel."

  That shut him up for a while. The silence was more than awkward. It was full of questions I didn't want to answer, but that I knew he'd be asking and soon.

  Finally, he pressed the issue. "So you're not out. Not at all. You're hiding it."

  I hated the way he said it, like I was doing something wrong. I felt instantly defensive. "It's no one's business but mine. I like my privacy, okay?"

  He went quiet again, for the rest of the walk, and I hated it.

  We'd ordered our food and were one drink into the meal when he came out of it.

  "I'm sorry," he said softly, his lovely black eyes warm. "I'm being a jerk. You have a right to your privacy. I won't say anything. I mean, we can keep this under wraps as long as you need."

  I just nodded, not knowing what to say. I couldn't reassure him in any way. No matter how this went, be it one date or one hundred, I wasn't planning to make it or us common knowledge. I'd been too fiercely secretive about my preferences for too long to change it on a whim.

  "You know you can trust me, right?" he questioned, looking earnest. "I'm sure you've heard awful things about me but . . . they aren't true. I'm not a liar, and I don't spread gossip."

  "I do trust you," I said simply. And I found that I did. I didn't know him well yet, but I knew enough.

  He gave me the sweetest smile I'd ever seen. "Thank you. You—you're everything I wanted you to be, you know that?"

  I couldn't hold back a grin. "I'm not sure what to make of that."

  "I've seen you before, though you didn't notice me. I've watched you, and heard about you . . . fantasized about you. I was hoping you were this great guy, and well, you are. It makes me really happy."

  That made me pretty happy, too. He had a way of softening me, right from the start.

  I wanted to, but I didn't last three dates before hooking up with him again. Not even close.

  I dropped off Bianca's takeout and walked him to his room.

  Things got out of hand after that.

  I meant just to kiss him goodnight on the cheek. He turned his head and didn't catch my mouth so much as put his in my path.

  Once we started kissing, I was done for.

  I had one brief moment of almost sanity when I saw that he'd been prepared for this, that he'd planned for it, everything laid out, and I almost held back.

  "I was hoping," he told me with a sweet smile and a sweeter kiss. "I wasn't expecting. Just hoping."

  I nodded curtly and let him roll the condom on, my hands running over him, gripping into his hair, kneading at his flesh. More than anything, I just wanted to touch him, to have full contact, skin on skin, but my control failed me in the face of his sweet, giving submission.

  I backed him into his room and had him. I bent him over a chair, jerking him off with my hand while I fucked him from behind.

  "I'm sorry," I breathed into his back when I'd buried myself to the hilt. "I know I'm big. I'm trying not to be rough."

  His response was to moan and grind back against me.

  I started moving, great heavy thrusts that he met beat for beat.

  I let myself get rough with it when I saw that he could handle it, jamming into him at full strength, brutal jackhammer thrusts that made him hold on for dear life and cry out loudly.

  I bit down at the straining tendon between his neck and shoulder as I kept up a punishing rhythm, hammering into him.

  His cock jerked in my hand, and he cried out.

  I outlasted him, but not by much. He was still spurting in my hand when I let myself go, ramming hard into him one last time as I came deep inside of him.

  After, I peeled off the condom and tossed it in the trash, far from done.

  I pushed him on his back on the bed and started kissing him, my hand still on his cock, pumping at him, enjoying the feel of him, even soft.

  I wasn't soft. I was ready to go again way too quickly, grinding myself between his legs, jabbing my tip against his sac as I thrust my tongue into his mouth.

  "Oh God," he cried out, panting, his arms holding me to him like I was the answer to a prayer.

  I couldn't get enough of him. His sweet acceptance undid me.

  I sat him up, pulled his thighs over mine, and lined our shafts up together, using his hand and mine to stroke us both into a frenzy, rubbing, stroking leisurely, then urgently, until we were spilling on each other, coming together. I looked up to find him watching my face at the end, a look of rapt adoration on his.

  I still hadn't had enough, and started kissing him again mid-ejaculation, rubbing myself against him as I devoured his mouth with mine.

  I pulled back only long enough to catch my breath and started kissing his perfect body. He was lean, but muscular; his skin a pale olive that I thought looked perfect under my sun browned hands.

  He whimpered when I caught his growing erection in my mouth and started sucking. I didn't stop, instead clamping down with my lips and going harder, crawling over his body until my own hardening length was pushing against his mouth.

  I pushed my fingers into his back entrance while we sucked each other off.

  I lay on my back and pulled him over my chest when we'd finished, stroking a hand over his soft hair, kissing his forehead, sated but with a stomach still alive with butterflies.

  "Wow, just wow," he breathed, running his hands over me, turning his head to kiss my chest repeatedly. "I've never . . . I never, um, that was amazing."

  I smiled, my eyes closing, a feeling of utter contentment blooming to life, sheer delight working its way through me. "Yes, it was."

  I didn't even ask. I just stayed the night in his room.

  I noticed with the crew the next day that he changed in front of other people, became more stiff, less open.

  It was like this with everyone, I would learn.

  He was so different with me. He gave me something distinctly unique from what he gave the rest of the world. With me, he didn't hold back a thing. He was more open, more honest, sweeter, better.

  I fell for him. Hard and fast. As though I was too naive to know better, as though I was innocent instead of tarnished, I dove in headfirst.

  He made me feel good about myself, like I was the missing piece of his puzzle, the one that made him fit right in his own skin.

  In a perfect world, when you found the person that did that, that was it. End of story. Happily ever after.

  But this wasn't a perfect world, and even though I fell for him deeply, I knew it couldn't last.

  He was always on the offense about his sexuality. I, on the other hand, was firmly stuck in my defensive stance.

  He was insulted that I continued to insist on hiding our relationship.

  I was resentful that he didn't understand or respect my need for privacy.

  My pigheaded stubborn pride had doomed us from the start.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE SWEETEST MONTH

  We were joined at the hip after that. Every second of our free time was spent together.

  I was anxious at first about what Bianca would think of it all, but I shouldn't have worried. She was ecstatic about it, so happy for me she was bursting with it. She pushed me in his direction at every opportunity.

  "Go," she'd say. "I'll just be painting all day, anyway. This works out perfectly."

  It only lasted a month, but it was the sweetest month.

  He was on-call, and good friends with the girl who ran scheduling, so he managed to snag the fifth position on nearly all of
our flights.

  I was on cloud nine. I'd always been a romantic, but even so, I'd never been in love. Not like this. It was a brand new, heady, wonderful experience.

  Of course, it all just made the quick plummet of our breakup that much harder to bear. It didn't seem to matter that we'd had such a short time together, because that time had been spent earnestly making bittersweet memories that I would dwell on in all of my troubled, lonely reflections after.

  But that was after. During . . . during was another thing entirely.

  The making of the sweet memories before they turned bitter.

  We loved to go hiking. There was this little private spot at Red Rock that we hit every chance we got. We'd hold hands and talk for hours there.

  It was maybe the fifth time we'd gone, and we had just reached the peak at the top of our hike when he shot me his best smile. "Pinch me. I feel like I'm dreaming here."

  "Why's that?"

  "You is why. I never thought you'd ever even talk to me, let alone give me the time of day."

  "Why?"

  "You're out of my league, if you haven't noticed. And you're so nice. A fairytale prince that came to rescue a loser like me."

  I melted. Every hard thing inside of me went soft for this man.

  If it'd just been us, we would have been fine, I figured.

  It was the rest of the world that was the problem.

  It wasn't the long walks that ended us, or any of the time in private.

  It was the parties, the active social scene that went along with our line of work that sealed our fate.

  Javier had been respectful about my ban on PDA from the first time I'd mentioned it, but there were times when I could tell it bothered him. Many times.

  One time in particular was the last straw for him.

  We were at a house party for our friend Damien's birthday.

  I was standing with Javier and a group of pilots and flight attendants, but I was watching Bianca across the room. She'd been cornered by Damien, who everyone knew had had a thing for her since the first time he'd seen her.

  A lot of people thought this was juicy gossip, since they assumed she was with me, and they knew we were all friends.