Marie Sexton - Coda 05 - Paris A to Z (8 page)

at that moment. But his words struck a chord. It
did
matter.
“He never tops,” he said. “Think about it, Matt. Hes smaller than me. Hes never thrown me down on the bed and really fucked me.” His teeth nipped my neck. His hands were everywhere. His breathless voice was in my ear, his body still moving on top of me. “Does that make a difference? Does it help knowing hes never fucked me like this? Does it help knowing hes never fucked me at all?”
“Yes,” I admitted, as breathless now as he was.
“You want to do something to me hes never done?”
“Yes.”
“Then be aggressive.”
Just the thought of it made me moan.
“Take control.”
“Oh God—”
“Do what he wont.”
I wanted to. I really did want to.
“Fuck me!” he said, and his fingers dug painfully into my shoulders.
“Jared—”
“
Fuck me
!”
The words flipped a switch deep inside of me. He was right. I didnt want to lie here underneath him, letting him lead. Not this time.
I grabbed him and rolled us over, so I was on top, and he moaned. He closed his eyes and arched toward me as I thrust into him. Id forgotten all of the reasons this position was so good. I could watch his face. I could stroke him with one hand as I fucked him. And as hed said, I really could be aggressive. Why I was normally so reluctant to let him be submissive wasnt even clear in my mind, but suddenly, here and now, it didnt matter. It was a relief to let go. It was a relief to drive into him harder and faster than before.
He pushed my hand away from his cock and began stroking himself, and I let him. I slammed into him. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled, harder than usual, hard enough that his moan was partly pain, and I attacked his neck with my mouth as I fucked him harder. I wasnt sure whether it was acceptable or not to channel my anger and my jealousy into our sex, but I did it anyway. He said he was mine, and somewhere in the rational part of my brain, I knew it was true. But I wanted to prove it. I wanted to mark him. I wanted to claim him in some way that was purely primal.
I felt his hands digging into my back, his teeth in my shoulder. I heard his hoarse cry in my ear, and felt him climaxing underneath me. It drove me over the edge, and I spent myself in him, holding him tight, driving into him as deep as I could, and as I did, I found myself thinking only one thing: he belonged to me, and nobody was going to take him away.
Afterward, as I held him tight against me and we both worked to catch our breath, he said to me, “Thats what I want you to remember, Matt. Every time you start to get jealous, every time you want to punch him in the face, I want you to think about this. And when we get back to the room, you can throw me down on the bed and do it again if you want. As long as it helps you remember that youre the one I love.”
I sighed and held him tighter. I hated to admit that my anger was gone, but it was. My jealousy was lost and powerless in the afterglow of our pleasure. I kissed his neck. “Youre a manipulative bastard,” I said.
He laughed. “I learned from the best.” He rolled us over again and sat on top of me, straddling my hips, smiling down at me. “Are you still mad?”
“No.”
“Good,” he said, “cause that was fun.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“Yes,” he said, but he was grinning ear to ear as he said it, and I knew it wasnt a complaint.
I reached up and grabbed his hair, and he let me pull him down to kiss me. “Suddenly Im hoping you make me jealous a lot on this trip.”
The smile he gave me was one of the sexiest things Id ever seen. “My thoughts exactly.”

A
NGELO
was completely in love with our suite. Hed never been in any place quite so luxurious, and he seemed halfway afraid to touch anything, as if he might break it. The living room held a couch, several chairs, and a desk. The ceilings were high. There seemed to be curtains everywhere, velvet of a deep, rich red, not just covering the windows, but also between the rooms and draped over the bed. The bedroom held a king-size bed, over which hung a gold chandelier. Somehow that, more than anything, seemed absurd: a chandelier in the bedroom. The plasma TV on the wall seemed terribly out of place.

Angelo was at the window, looking out. “Cant believe were here,” he said in awe. He pointed out the window. “If we walk down that street over there, well get to the Tuileries Gardens.
A to Z
says theyre the essence of the city. „Big and bold and precise and elegant and ravishing in their beauty.” He looked over at me, his eyes huge and wondrous. “Thats what it said.”

That simple fact did nothing to quell his enthusiasm. “I cant wait to see em,” he said as he turned to look out the window again.
I didnt care too much about seeing any gardens, but I loved to see him so happy. I went and stood behind him, and he leaned back against me. We could see most of the square, which was paved entirely with dull brick. The buildings were uniform, flat-faced and gray, with regularly spaced identical windows. Most of the windows had window boxes, but this time of year, there was nothing alive. In the middle of the square was a huge column with a statue on the top.
In my travels in America, it had been my experience that one city looked very much like another. But this was unmistakably
not
Western USA.
“Whats that tower?” I asked.
“Napoleon put it up after the Battle of Austerlitz. To commemorate his victory. They took the cannons from the other armies and melted them down to make those bronze plates.”
“So thats Napoleon on top?”
“Yeah. Thats not the original statue though. They pulled it down, I think. Not sure why. But later, they replaced it.” He turned his head to look up at me with a grin. “Unless somethin changed since my book was published.”
“Smartass. Remind me to ask Cole these questions from now on,” I said, and he laughed. “What did he say to you?” I asked.
“When?”
“In the lobby.” I kissed his neck, and he shivered. “He whispered something in your ear.” I pulled on his T-shirt, stretching the collar, revealing more of his shoulder. I loved the soft place where it curved up into his neck. I flicked my tongue there, and his breath caught for a second before he answered me.
“He said he was glad you werent freakin out, cause he can only handle one jealous boyfriend at a time.”
I laughed and kissed him more as I slid my hand down his stomach. I started to unbutton his pants. “You dont want him anymore.”
He shook his head. “No.” His breathing was changing, and I took my time, letting the anticipation build. I unzipped his jeans and slipped my hand inside, rubbing him through the fabric of his boxers. Once he was hard, I pushed his shorts out of the way, exposing his cock, but not touching it. I slid my hand down past it, between his legs, squeezing the flesh where his leg met his pelvis.
“Zach,” he hissed at me. “The window!”
“What about it?” I bit his neck harder. I rubbed my fingers on that soft skin behind his balls, pushing back toward his entrance. I couldnt reach it from this angle, but I reached as far as I could and heard his breath catch. My cock was hard, and I ground against him from behind.
“Somebody might see,” he said breathlessly.
“They might,” I said, and I slid my hand up and cupped his sac in my hand, squeezing gently. “I hope they do.” His breathing was faster now, the pressure building. “I hope they watch everything.” I moved my hand up, not gripping him, but allowing the palm of my hand to brush lightly up his shaft to his crown. His breath caught again, and he made a soft sound that might have been a whimper if it had only been louder. “I hope they like it.”
“Please, Zach,” he whispered.
I put my fingers on the tip of his shaft and started to massage the little beads of moisture I found there around and around his head. “Tonight,” I whispered as I teased him, “after weve showered, Im going to push you down on that bed.” I let my fingers glide down his length. “And Im going to push your legs apart.” I moved my hand down again, as low on him as I could reach, massaging him, straining toward his hole. “Im going to lick you and rim you and suck you until you beg me to stop.” I slid my hand back up. I placed my palm flat against his cock and I pushed against him from behind, grinding against his ass and pushing his erection into my hand.
He had a hard time talking when he was this wound up, but he panted out, “Is that all?”
“No,” I said as I finally wrapped my hand around him and began to stroke. “Then Im going to fuck your brains out.”
He laughed breathlessly, leaning back against me, his head back on my shoulder. I knew if I could see his face that his eyes would be closed, lips barely parted. I looked down, over his shoulder, at my hand moving on him. His hips moved a little as he pushed himself in and out of my fist. I wondered what it would be like to look down and see another man on his knees in front of us. I imagined watching Angelos cock disappear into that mans mouth. I imagined grabbing that mans head, pushing Angelo deeper into his throat as I pushed my cock into Angelo, and I moaned.
Someday, we might make that happen, but not here. This trip was for us alone.
“More, Zach.”
“Anything.” I moved in front of him and went to my knees. I sucked

him into my mouth and started moving, sliding up and down his length. I intentionally moved a little faster than I knew he liked, and after a moment, his hand knotted in my hair, stilling me, just as Id known it would. And then, slowly, he started to move.
This was the way he liked his blow jobs, at least some of the time: agonizingly slow. He used his hand in my hair to guide my head, back and forth, opposite the thrusting of his hips. I had a hard time deep-throating normally—especially since he was a bit longer than average—but when he went slow, it was easiest. I didnt even have to keep my fist around his shaft to keep him from pushing too far, except when he came. Moving like this, he could push deeper than he could with fast thrusts, and he seemed to be able to sense when he couldnt go further. Id asked him once how he knew—if I tensed up, or if he could feel it somehow in his cock—but hed only looked at me in surprise. He hadnt even realized he was doing it. However it worked, it was always the same. Hed push in as deep as I could manage, and then hed pull back out, almost all the way, until the ridge of his cock was against my lips, and Id tighten my mouth around him, sucking hard to keep him from escaping. That was the part he liked best.
I unbuttoned my pants, exposing my aching erection, and used my hand to stroke myself. I didnt move my hand in time with his long, slow thrusts. I moved it in time with his breathing, which I was ever attuned to. It was fast now, but not too fast. He wasnt panting yet. Sometimes he liked to rush ahead to the end, but not today. Not yet, at least. Right now, he seemed to want to take his time.
His thrusts continued, long and slow. I kept stroking myself. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His other hand was braced against the windowsill. His head was back, so I couldnt see his face, but I knew he had his eyes closed. Otherwise hed be looking down at me.
He was so beautiful. Hed be thirty in only a few months, but he looked younger. He still got carded for booze more often than not. The light from the window was shining on him, and the shadow of the windowpane created a cross on his chest. I wished Id taken his shirt off, so I could see that light on his gorgeous skin. I wanted to see the tattoo on his stomach, and the soft downy hairs that grew there, pale against his