Page 4 of Under His Sheets
“I hadn’t heard that way of describing it before. I like it.”
“I likethis,” I said, reaching for his cock, finally getting a moan from him. He was so quiet, I had to go by his pounding heart and his panting to know that he was feeling this too.
“I like this also.” His accent was a little thicker, and his breathing sped up even more as I stroked him. He stopped moving for a moment, and I heard him fumble with a drawer next to the bed. I heard the click of a cap and then I felt cool liquid slide over my fingers. I chuckled.
“I like this better.”
Then his slick hand was on my cock and we were moving together, mutual satisfaction on the menu. I was completelyoverwhelmed with stimuli; the music, his breath, the feel of his skin and the soft hair on his torso, the lube now warmed in our hands, the friction, his scent, something strong like Irish Spring soap that tickled my nose, the flavor of that fantastic wine on both of our tongues. So many sensations, and they were building into a crescendo that I wanted desperately to reach, and yet didn’t want this feeling to end.
“This okay?” he asked.
“More than,” I moaned, my body jerking under his. I pulled him down flush to me and he wrapped his other arm around me, turning us on our sides. I placed my free hand on his face, kissing him as best I could, though it was hard to focus. He took my thumb in his mouth and I groaned.
“Okay to come on you? I’m right there.”
“Bé, we come together.”
Our frantic movements lost their synchronicity and our pelvic bones bumped, his knuckles dug into my lower gut, and I loved it, that twinge of pain right before I?—
“Molt be. Randall, fuck?—”
“Yessssss,” I hissed.
His face was pressed against mine, his lips moving halfway between kissing and speaking. He ran his fingers through our combined mess and then licked one. It was so hot that if it were at all physically possible, I would have come again. I grabbed for his face and kissed him hard, trying to express without words that this was more to me than just a hook-up. The combined tastes on his tongue of us, the wine…I’d remember these sensations for the rest of my life. Even if I never saw him again—ahimI didn’t even have a name for—he’d found me at a low point and he’d…cared. It meant a lot, this connection we’d made in his bed, under his sheets, skin against skin, even if it was just for one night.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his soft voice so kind. He sat up on the edge of the bed and I wished for the first time for just a little bit of light. I ran a hand down his back and paused when my fingers grazed…scar tissue? He flinched a bit and then stood up.
“Can you pause time?”
He chuckled, and I knew he’d moved away, but I heard nothing until the click of a soft lamp in the bathroom, which illuminated his gloriously naked body.
Oh. Heaven. Help me. Whatever I’d done to deserve to look upon his beauty, I was grateful for the opportunity.
He washed his hands, his lips drawn up in that quirk that alluded to humor but wasn’t quite a smile. He turned to reach behind him for a towel and I saw what my fingers had grazed.
Were thosebullet wounds? He also had a couple of long scars on his thigh that caught my eye as he turned to enter the bedroom.
Red flags? Maybe. But he’d done nothing to alarm me, and with how heavy my eyelids were, perhaps I was seeing things.
“Rest, amor. Tomorrow will present new opportunities.”
I wanted to believe his words, but they were echoey, as if I was sliding down a tube away from him and into the darkness once more.
TWO
November 25,2019
7:42 AM Castelldefels, Catalonia, Spain
Two Weeks Later
What a difference a fortnight made.
I stood struggling to knot my stupid tie, the collar of my dress shirt already strangling me, in the tiny bathroom of my new apartment in Castelldefels, a town outside of Barcelona nearish to the airport. I had purchased exactly six dress shirts, six ties, and six pairs of chinos to start my new job teaching music at the Frederick Douglass International School.
And it was all thanks to my savior. Well, thecan-doattitude was thanks to him. The job was thanks to my old teacher, Cecilia Galván.
“Randall! What happened? Tell me everything!”
