by Marie Sexton
“I’ve regretted it a hundred times. I wish you would give me another chance.”
“It’s too la—” Zach started to say. But he was cut short when Jonathan pulled him close and kissed him.
“Oh shit,” I heard Jared say quietly next to me.
Jonathan wrapped his other arm around Zach and deepened the kiss.
For a mere second, Zach was kissing him back—whether he meant to or not, I had no idea—and then all hell broke loose.
I didn’t know when Angelo had stopped dancing and started seeing what was going on. Maybe he had been watching all along. Zach was just starting to protest, pushing Jonathan away, when Ang came flying out of nowhere. He shoved Jonathan hard in the chest, almost knocking him down. “Get your hands off him!”
Jonathan caught himself on the next table, a few steps away from Angelo. He recovered quicker than I expected, standing up straight and taking a step toward Angelo. “It’s really none of your business—”
“You kiss my boyfriend, and you think it’s none of my fuckin’ business?”
“I figured you had an open relationship,” Jonathan said smoothly, taking another step toward Angelo. “After watching you on the dance floor—”
“You sure as fuck didn’t see me kissin’ anyone!”
“Oh,” Jonathan said, and for the first time, there was a nasty edge to his voice. “Is that where you draw the line?”
“Fuck you!”
Zach had finally recovered enough to intervene. I hoped he would diffuse the entire situation. Instead, he put his hand on Angelo’s shoulder, and said the worst possible thing. “Ang, you’re overreacting,” he said quietly, and I could have strangled him. How could he be with Ang and not know better than to say something like that?
“I’m what?” Angelo yelled, turning on Zach. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Your ex-boyfriend is stickin’ his tongue down your fuckin’ throat, and I’m overreacting?”
Zach had realized his mistake about half a second after the words were out of his mouth and was trying to back-pedal. “That’s not what I meant—” but Jonathan interrupted him.
“So it’s okay for a complete stranger to give you a hand-job on the dance floor, but Zach can’t even kiss somebody if he wants to?”
“I didn’t want to,” Zach said, low but firm.
Angelo ignored Zach. He turned on Jonathan, his face dark and furious. Angelo may have been half a foot shorter than me, but if he had turned that look my way, I would have backed up a step. I think almost anybody would have. But Jonathan stood his ground.
Next to me, Jared hissed, “Do something,” and pushed me toward them.
“We had a good life, Zach,” Jonathan said. “We could get that back.
I know we could.”
Zach started to protest, but Angelo didn’t give him a chance. “He’s with me!”
Jonathan looked at Angelo. The look of disdain on his face was painful to see, and the malice in his voice when he spoke again was even worse. “What do you have to offer him?” he asked. “Somebody to bag his groceries?” He stopped for a second, and I was thinking maybe we had dodged the bullet. But then he said what I knew he had been thinking all night. He flipped his hand dismissively at Angelo and said with a sneer, “You’re nothing but an easy lay.”
Nobody better ever say that Angelo is slow. I was only a step away from him, and he still got in one good punch before I managed to grab him. Bouncers were moving in on us from every direction, and Ang was fighting me hard. It was all I could do to hang on to him, and the string of profanity coming out of his mouth was enough to take the paint off the walls.
Jonathan looked triumphant, holding a cocktail napkin to his bleeding lip. Zach looked stunned. Jared just looked annoyed, and so did the bouncers.
“We’re leaving,” I said to them, before they could tell us they were kicking us out.
Angelo had turned his rage from Jonathan to me, and I barely managed to get him to the door. Jared was right behind me, pushing me, and Zach and Jonathan were somewhere behind him, still arguing. We spilled onto the sidewalk in a heap. As soon as I loosened my grip on Angelo, he pushed me away. But to my surprise, he didn’t take a swing at me, or make a move toward Jonathan. Instead, he turned his back and started walking down the sidewalk, away from us all.
“Angelo, wait,” Zach called, and started to go after him.
I put my hand out and shoved him back, a little harder than I meant to. I heard Jared’s quiet voice saying, “Matt, don’t,” but I ignored him.
“You’ve done enough,” I said to Zach.
“Don’t you see, Zach?” Jonathan said. “You can’t possibly be-lieve—”
He stopped talking when I stepped up to him. I intentionally stepped in too close. He was smaller than me, and it was easy to bump into him enough that he had to take a step back. I glared down at him. “You better shut your fucking mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.” Maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all, because he did what I said. “You two,” I was still looking at Jonathan, but Zach and Jared knew I meant them, “go back to the hotel.” Zach started to protest, but I said simply, “I’ll find him.” Zach sighed, and Jared grabbed his arm, turned him around, and they started walking back toward the hotel. “You,” I hissed down at Jonathan, “better not follow.”
Jonathan hesitated for just a second, and I knew he was debating how far to push me. Luckily for him, he decided on “no further”. He ducked his head and took a step back, away from me. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“Bullshit. That’s exactly what you meant to do.”
He looked at me with wary eyes for a second, then without another word, he turned and walked back into the club.
Now I just had to find Angelo.
In Las Vegas.
Great.
I had an idea where he would go, and fortunately for me, it turned out to be right. He was standing in front of the Bellagio. The fountain wasn’t on, and he was leaning against the stone railing, staring out at the silent manmade lake. He didn’t even look at me.
“Go away, Matt.”
I had expected that, but I ignored him. I put my elbows on the railing next to him, and we both watched the lake, as intent upon it as if the fountains really had been running. I waited him out, and after a few minutes, he sighed in resignation.
“Not gonna leave me alone, are you?”
“No.”
“Don’t wanna talk ’bout it.”
“Okay.”
I knew Angelo well. Probably better than he knew himself. I waited.
“I mean it, Matt!” he said, more forcefully this time.
“I didn’t say a word.”
I waited a little longer, trying not to smile. I knew he was about ready to break. Finally he said, “Fine!”
“Fine, what?” I asked innocently.
“Fine, I’m listenin’. Say whatever the fuck you came here to say.”
“Okay,” I said. “Just this: Zach’s crazy about you.”
“Sure he is,” he snapped at me. “That’s why he was makin’ out with his fuckin’ ex-boyfriend right in front of me.”
I didn’t respond right away. I let that one just fall to the ground between us and flop around for a bit, before saying sarcastically, “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”
He slumped a little, and just like that, all the fight went out of him.
“Fuck off, Matt,” he said, but there was no strength behind it.
“Come on, Ang. Quit acting like an asshole and talk to me.”
I thought he’d snap back at that, but he didn’t. He actually thought about it for a few seconds before answering. “Jonathan’s right. I have nothing to offer. He has a college degree. And a career. He has a condo in Vegas, and a nice car, and tons of money.”
“How do you know he has a nice car?” I asked. I was wondering if I had missed something.
He rolled his eyes. “Just a hunch. He has season tickets to the g
oddamn theater, for Christ’s sake.”
“So what?”
“So, I can’t compete with that. Why would Zach choose me over him?”
I looked over at him in surprise. “We’re talking about the same Zach, right? The guy who hates musicals and thinks Play Misty for Me is artsy, and only likes happy endings?” He smiled at that, just a little. “You think Zach gives a rat’s ass about the theater? Or the condo? Or even the money?”
A tiny pause, and then, “No.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
He sighed, then said in quiet resignation, “When I look at him, I see the guy Zach’s supposed to be with, you know? I see the guy he deserves.”
“You think he deserves Jonathan?”
“I think he deserves someone better than me.”
“You know what I see when I look at Jonathan?” I asked.
“A guy who spends too much money on shoes?”
I bit back my laugh so he would know I meant what I said. “I see the guy Zach didn’t care about enough to fight for.”
His head dropped, but there was no other response. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go back to the motel.”
He shook his head. “Can’t go there yet.”
“You know Zach’s probably so worried he can’t think straight.”
“I know.”
“Are you trying to punish him? Because if you are, it’s a shitty thing to do.”
He shook his head. “That’s not it.”
“Then what?”
“Just can’t, Matt,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”
“Okay.” Of course I knew he sometimes had to be alone. He had crashed on my couch more than once, when he needed time away from Zach. But I was thinking about the club—about all of those men with their hands on him—and about the way I knew he used to live. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
He didn’t look at me, but I knew he understood what I meant: don’t go out and get laid. “I won’t,” he said. He wasn’t looking at me, and I couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. But there was nothing else I could do.
I walked back to the hotel alone.
When I got to our room, I found that Jared had changed out of his nice clothes. He was wearing only a pair of sweatpants. His hair was out of its ponytail and sticking out every which way. All I wanted to do was get my own dinner clothes off and get my hands into his curls, but he didn’t give me a chance.
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked as soon as I walked in the door.
“I was just—”
“You can’t order me back to the room!” he said, louder, as he stepped closer.
“Jared, I—”
“Are you gonna try and ground me next?”
“No—”
“I told you we shouldn’t go to that club—” He was only a foot away from me now.
“I know—”
“You never listen to me!”
“I’m sorry—”
The very next instant, his arms were around my neck, and he was kissing me hard. His hands tore at my shirt, and at least one button went flying. It was such a rapid change, from chewing me out to ripping my clothes off, it took me a second to catch up. He undid my pants. They were looser than my jeans and fell easily to the floor.
“Jared—” I started to say, but he cut me off again.
“Shut up, Matt.” He pushed me backward onto the bed.
It was unusual for him to be so aggressive, but I certainly wasn’t going to object. He took off his pants sitting across my thighs. We had stopped using condoms long ago. He put some lube in his hand and put his fist against the head of my cock. He pushed just a little, smiling down at me. He knew I couldn’t help but thrust up, into his hand.
“Oh Jesus,” I groaned as his slick fist slid down my shaft, and his smile got bigger.
“Just wait,” he said, and moved up so he could straddle my groin.
I hadn’t realized until then exactly what he was planning.
“Jared—” I started to say.
“Shut up, Matt,” he said again. And then he pushed himself down onto me.
I quit trying to protest after that. I couldn’t have even if I had wanted to. Truthfully, I’d forgotten how good it felt to be inside of him. I’d forgotten how tight, warm, and intense it was. There had only been three other times, all more than a year before, and it had never been like this, with him on top of me. It was amazing—almost overwhelming—and I knew immediately I’d never be able to last long enough. I gripped his thighs with my hands, and felt hard, thick muscle, built from years of bike riding, rippling against my palms as he moved up and down on me.
His hands were on my stomach, his fingers tracing that line of hair just below my navel. He didn’t open his eyes much during sex, but I knew how much he loved to feel my chest and my stomach and that trail of hair he’d always been obsessed with. He was moving slow, and the look on his face was heaven to me. His eyes were closed, and his lips just barely parted. I loved to watch his face while he got off.
The lube was still on the bed. I put some on my hand, and did what he had done to me: I put my fist against at the head of his cock, and when he lifted up off of me, I let his shaft push up through my fist. It made him lose rhythm. For a second he froze in that upward position, poised right on the end of my cock, his own cock deep in my fist, and then he moaned—I loved the look on his face when he did that—and started moving again, faster than before.
Watching him, it was all I could do to keep from coming right then.
He was speeding up, slamming down on to me harder and faster, moaning a little when my cock reached the deepest point inside of him. The sounds he made were soft and low, but mine were plenty loud. The bed was creaking like crazy, pounding against the wall, and at least in Vegas, nobody was going to complain. His movements became almost frantic, and I knew he was close. I kept my hand moving, trying to match his rhythm, even as it grew more erratic.
I tightened my grip on him and his eyes snapped open. They locked on mine for just a second, before sliding down my chest and over my stomach. He looked down at my hand, pumping his shaft, and groaned low in his throat.
I knew that sound. I knew he was about to come. He threw his head back, put his hands behind him on my thighs and arched his back. He came so hard that his first shot landed on my shoulder, and he cried out as he did. I finally quit fighting my own climax, and if the people next door didn’t hear the bed hitting the wall, they had to be able to hear me when I finally let go.
When I could think again, I opened my eyes to find Jared grinning down at me. “Can we do that again?” he asked playfully, which was exactly what I had said to him after the first time I had ever fucked him.
I laughed, and followed along. “What, already?”
“God no. I mean, when you can move again.”
And I realized then that for the first time, I didn’t feel weird about what had just happened. Yes, it had been me fucking him, but what he had done had in no way been submissive. Somehow, that made a difference.
I reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair, and he let me pull him down. I stopped just before his lips touched mine.
“I love you,” I said.
I loved to watch his face when I said those words too. He did the same thing every time: his eyes would close, and he would cock his head to the side and smile just a little. It was like he had a little box somewhere deep in his mind, where he kept all his favorite things. And each time I told him how I felt, he would close his eyes for just a second, while he tucked that moment away in that secret place.
His eyes opened again and he smiled down at me. “I loved you first.”
I had to laugh. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He just smiled. “It means I win.”
“Okay,” I said as I kissed him. “You win.”
He went in the bathroom and brought a towel back so I could wipe up the mess he’d left on my chest and stomach.
I still had my shoes on and my pants around my ankles, and I had to laugh as I took them off.
“You couldn’t let me get undressed first?”
“Are you complaining?” he asked jokingly as he got into bed.
“Not a bit,” I said, and climbed in behind him.
“At least you were awake,” he teased.
“Are you complaining?”
I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was smiling. “Not a bit.”
Once I had his hair tucked out of the way so it wasn’t tickling my nose, I used my finger to trace a line between the light freckles on his shoulder.
“Are you gonna tell me?” he asked after a couple of minutes.
I didn’t answer at first. Jared and I saw eye to eye on almost everything, but the one thing we definitely did not agree on was Zach and Angelo. I loved Angelo like a brother, but I also knew that he wasn’t exactly Jared’s favorite person. Ever since our New Year’s party, Jared had noticeably cooled toward him. I wasn’t sure what had happened, and when I asked Jared, he wouldn’t say a word. He was non-confrontational to a fault, and I knew he didn’t want to put me in a position of having to choose sides. We seemed to have an unspoken agreement to not talk about them at all. But now he was asking, and I had to answer.
I chose my words carefully, to not imply blame on either side.
“Angelo thinks he doesn’t deserve Zach.”
“And you think Zach doesn’t deserve Angelo.”
It wasn’t a question. “I think sometimes Zach doesn’t think about what Angelo needs.”
What followed was a pregnant silence. I knew he disagreed, but he wasn’t saying anything because he didn’t want to argue. I poked him in the ribs. “Speak,” I said, and he sighed.
“I don’t know how you can say Zach doesn’t think about Angelo.
Angelo’s the only thing Zach does think about.” I knew what he meant, and I wondered how it was that we could both be right. “No matter what Zach does, it’s never enough. Do you think Angelo was thinking about Zach when he was out on that dance floor?”
“Zach didn’t seem to mind.”
“And you think it’s fair that he can behave like that but then fly off the handle when anybody pays attention to Zach?”
“Jonathan isn’t exactly ‘anybody’, and he wasn’t just ‘paying attention’ to Zach. He’s Zach’s ex, and he kissed him. So yeah, I think Angelo had a right to be pissed.”
