Passion, Proof, Power
Chapter 14
Passion, Proof, Power
Chapter 14
The first thing I did when I got to my apartment was drop my backpack on the floor.
The second was go downstairs.
Guess I hadn't had enough of Logan during our flight. I could have gone for a second time, really, but I didn't wanna sound needy. Maybe he wasn't even out of the closet or anything. Just because I'm out of the closet doesn't mean every other gay man is.
My lips curled as I climbed down the stairway. Was I turning into some sort of sex addict, or did I freak out for nothing as usual? I took a few deep breaths and attempted to regain composure before I knocked on the door.
Kevin greeted me. He wore sweat pants and his hair was wet – he probably came out of the shower a few minutes ago. I smiled and looked up to him, but the rest of his body drew my attention. Hot damn. Drop dead gorgeous.
He immediately ensnared me in a tight hug. I had my hands down his pants before the door even closed, while his were already all over my ass. His lips brushed my neck. He lifted me in his arms and gently dropped me on his kitchen table. He pushed everything out of the way, ignoring what fell on the floor. He didn't say anything as he unzipped my pants and freed me of my boxers, but his movements spoke for themselves: I was in for a good rough fuck.
Kevin rushed out of the kitchen, then came back. I laid down on the table and spread my legs. From there, I couldn't see much without breaking my neck, but the caresses made up for it. His warm wet lips made it straight for my hard-on. One of his fingers slid inside me, but then, the sucking stopped. He peeked his head from the edge of the table.
My heart stopped for a second. I was still probably a bit loose from the quickie with Logan. He must've guessed.
“Got fucked huh?” he asked, a lewd grin slapped on his face. “Who was the lucky motherfucker?”
My brain took forever to process that question. Between that and the foreplay – if you can call that foreplay – I was a bit out of it. “Some... huh... some guy in the plane.” I reached for my hard-on, but he gently slapped my hand and clicked his tongue.
“Tsk tsk tsk. It's my job to make you come, naughty boy.”
“Fucking tease,” I groaned, aching for his touch.
I heard him chuckle. “You're lucky, that's my job too.” He covered my erection with his lips again, and went back to toying with my ass. Man, those fingers. I missed them. He already had two of them inside, scissoring and thrusting inside of me. I bucked my hips – I wanted more. Deeper, faster, stronger.
My head lolled to the side as he sucked me off. His tongue ran along my shaft, followed by his smooth lips. He replaced them with his hand, then busied his mouth with my balls. Oh fuck, it felt good.
He stopped to put another load of lube – fuck you! – and inserted his fingers inside of me again. “Looks like you're good to go,” he stated as he got back to his feet. He pulled me a little closer to him so that my ass stuck out an inch or so, lubed up his own dick and finally pushed inside.
Damn. I'm not sure I wanna go back to Finland. I want this guy whenever I need a good fuck. His hand slid over my thighs and legs. He grabbed one and lifted it to his shoulder. Slightly uncomfortable, but it helped his balance. With his free hand, he gave a few tugs at my cock, then removed it. A second time. And a third.
“Fuck... I'm gone five days and you learn torture?”
His next thrust was long. “It's a skill I already had, but I need to brush on it every now and then.” He slowly picked up the pace, until I moaned instead of groaning. “At least he took care of you. That's good... I don't like seeing you in pain.”
I bucked against his hips. His free hand slid up to my chest, calloused pads adding to the warmth. “It's not a kink I have... I think. Your hands though...”
“Good to know,” he chuckled. He ran his hand across my chest and rested his fingers on my nipple, caressing it over and over again. He slid a single finger to my mouth and I nearly swallowed it. I closed my eyes and let him wiggle it in my mouth; I coaxed him into being a little rougher with me.
I needed to cling to something, but the table underneath was too hard. I managed to grab the edge and clung onto it as if my life depended on it.
The table shook under me with each of his powerful thrusts. His hand left my leg and settled on my thigh. He gently stroked my skin, yet mercilessly rammed me at the same time. He fucking knew what to do with me, and I loved it.
I locked eyes with him. His smile turned to a perverted smirk. I didn't expect any less from him – such a dirty, dirty man. He lowered my leg and held it against his waist for a moment, before he released me from his grip. He leaned forward, large hands on the table to support his weight. I missed the touch already, but damn, that cock did wonders.
"I love fucking you..." Kevin teased. He bared his teeth in another lewd grin. "Can't get enough."
I wanted to reply, but all that came out was a loud moan.
He chuckled. "I see..."
My mouth opened. I couldn't yell as my body shuddered; the scream died down my throat. My eyes widened. My fingers clawed at the table under me.
Damn... I didn't last long. It didn't stop him though, not that I complained. I could still feel his twitching member inside of me. His hands moved from the table and went back on my skin. He held me tight as he came.
Carefully, he pulled out. He gave me a sheepish smile, then held a single hand in front of me.
“I'll get you something to clean up,” he offered, his dark brown orbs going up and down as he scanned me, along with the mess. “We'll take care of the rest later.”
~
As I made my way back to my apartment, something about this encounter with Kevin struck me.
How young he looked.
I say young, but rather younger. Not by a lot, mind you, maybe five or six years – ten at most. That would put him at around twenty-five years old. It's not bad, merely something I noticed... and yet should have noticed earlier.
Age shouldn't matter... in the limits of legality at least. There was something about his smile; it reminded me of a mischievous child.
Still, Kevin's a hunk and he's really good in bed.
I shook my head and removed my clothes before sliding between my sheets.
Oddly enough, I didn't feel too lonely. I felt good even: I got fucked twice and got to see a friend.
I closed my eyes.
~
I slept until eleven or so. After a quick shower and a nice breakfast, I was ready for my day.
My gaze washed over my apartment and landed on my guitar. The poor thing. I left it alone, and I felt bad for it. It's not just a guitar for me... it's a part of my work. A part I've neglected over the last few days, and I do not like neglecting work. In fact, I wanted to play after seeing Kevin, but I was way too tired...
So I hopped to it. I limited myself to exercises in order to warm up. Five or six days didn't make me rusty, but for the sake of my fingers, it might have been better this way. At the same time, it's like learning how to ride a bike: you don't forget it. But warming up is important, folks.
I got my rhythm back quickly enough for my tastes. I noodled around for a solid four or five hours. Came up with melodies, solos, rhythm guitar licks, wrote down a few tabs, things I found interesting and the band might be into as well. We discuss almost everything, and I know they'll appreciate my sharing of ideas. Who knows? Maybe we'd be able to use it in the upcoming album. The songs are ninety percent done, but there's always room for improvement.
I grabbed my cellphone and started to dial Teemu's number.
Then the phone rang.
I wasn't even done dialling, for fuck's sake! Let me start my own damn phone call!
My eyes lowered slightly, over the caller ID. Ieva.
I squealed like a scared mouse – I completely forgot about her.
"Hi Sammi," she greeted. Her voice was warm and friendly. "Sorry if I didn't contact you over the last few days, I figured you needed time on your own." She paused for a second, and I could picture her cringing as if she was afraid that she hurt me. "How are you?”
I relaxed. "I'm alright – better I guess. How's everything?"
"Everything's fine. The recording's not delayed, Ryan wants to meet up with you again next week, and I may have something new for you."
That's something I didn't see coming. "What is it?"
I'm fine with the fund raising part. Not so much with the fancy one.
"... And I want you to come with me."
Oh god no.
"You'll get to network. It doesn't matter if they're not into heavy metal, I want these people to understand there's a foreign interest in their local scene, one where you're involved at the same time anyways. You're dealing with Ryan after all – oh, and he won't be there – but you get my point."
She marked a longer pause. I remained silent. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to say?
"I'll give you an address where you can buy or rent a suit."
No. No... The last time I wore a suit, I believe it was at a job interview.
I didn't get that job.
I jotted down the address on a piece of paper nearby, and opened my mouth to say something. Of course, that's not something she could see... so I didn't get to tell her anything in the end.
"I'll call you later, but I want you to go to that store, or any other you see fit, and find something nice for you to wear. Not too conservative, but not too outstanding. Understood?"
"Yeah, I got it. Fancy but not too fancy."
"Exactly. I'm also trying to reschedule that interview I had to cancel, it might be this week too. I'll try to push it to next week, but I doubt it'll work. Keep an eye on your emails and phone, alright, Sammi?"
I nodded. "Got it."
"Because I don't want to push you too much." I had the feeling she was gonna add something awkward, but she didn't. "I have a few more calls to make, but let me know if you need more space. I'll try to see what I can do."
"Alright. I'll talk to you later then."
"Have a good afternoon."
“You too.” I kinda let that last sentence linger a little before hanging up, then sat down.
Let's be clear.
Just because I lost my father didn't man I was gonna be unable to function. I may have lost it when I learned the news... I need to move on. And I can't move on by sitting on my ass. Maybe this wine and cheese gala thing will net me another fuck, it's the entertainment industry and there's bound to be a few gay guys no? I don't wanna sound stereotyping but... okay, I'm shutting up.
I needed this, so I was gonna do it.
And the first step was going to find a damn suit.
~
Since Ieva provided me with an address, I decided to look there first. With such a short delay, I knew I wasn't gonna get a fully custom and tailored suit, but I figured if it looked good enough on me, I could buy it. Those things come in handy, I guess.
I set out for the menswear store Tuesday morning and parked a block or two away. This time, I had put on cleaner clothes, if I can say that. Originally, I had considered tying my hair... but that's not me. Maybe it would have looked a bit fancier.
This time, I didn't get odd looks from the clerks.
The man who greeted me was clearly gay. Either that or I grew a gaydar overnight. I hate general stereotyping, but with some guys, when it's clear, it's clear. Slight lisp, black gelled hair, tanned skin, kinda skinny but not too much. Something about his eyebrow line...
Without his suit, he belonged in a pride parade. I don't say that to be mean, I'm just describing the man...
Let me start over, less biased. A tall slim guy with gelled black hair, glasses and a lisp. Gay or not, I don't give a fuck, I'm here to buy a suit. He could be a clown or the president and all it wouldn't change anything: I need a suit.
"Good morning," he greeted in French. Wow, I understood that! "May I help you?"
Holy shit I understood. A hundred percent. I am learning!
"Yes, I'm looking for..." What's the French word for suit... huh... whatever. I cringed and shook my head. "I'm sorry, I don't speak French too well. I'm looking for a suit." I mean, what else was I even doing here, looking for a dog? I was nervous and I had absolutely zero reason to be. Fuck me.
"For sale or for rent?"
Good question, sir. "If I find one and it suits me, I may buy it."
He adjusted his gold-trimmed glasses and sized me up with a long nod. "Let's see... follow me."
I indeed followed him to a rack with suits. I have no idea what I was expecting, other than... suits. I'm tired of this word. "I'd like something clean but not too clean..." My eyes wandered over a dark grey coat and pants. "Maybe like this?"
The man brought a slender hand over his chin. "I'm not sure we have this one for your size anymore. If you want, I can check. In the meantime, feel free to browse."
I smiled and nodded back. "Thank you."
He calmly strode to the back of the store, while I remained in the lane, surrounded by greys and blues. High-power business meetings aren't my strong point.
Put me on a scene with a guitar in my hands and I'm the happiest man in the world. I sing, I yell, I talk with the crowd, I've body-surfed a few times. Have me deliver a speech about money or business plans and watch as I drown in my own sweat, or die by dehydration.
I found one that wasn't too bad either – navy with pinstripes. I don't have a shirt to go with it, and no ties either, but I grabbed a small one and asked another clerk for a stall. I went back out, grabbed the first silk shirt I saw – purple – and a tie similar to the suit's material, then went back to the stall. I shed my clothes as if someone was watching me, because changing your clothes in public is beyond awkward.
I had to admit... it fit me pretty well. Sure it could have used a few touches, like the waist was a bit too wide and I wasn't sure about the cuffs, but the purple shirt looked nice with it. I thought that tie was perfect though. The pants, however, could have fit someone with a good five or six inches over me. They crumpled as I exited the stall, and I felt awful for dragging that material across the floor.
The black-haired clerk stood a few feet away, empty-handed. "I'm so sorry," he began. "We don't have the dark grey model anymore in small size... but this one you chose looks very nice on you."
I blushed a bit. "Thank you. I like it too. Do you also offer to trim the pants?"
His eyes dropped to my feet, which were entirely covered by the pants. Curse my short height. "We do, but it automatically becomes a sale as it's not a guarantee they'll fit anyone else."
True, true. Oh well. I'll have a suit for whatever next thing I need one for. "I'll buy the whole outfit."
He clasped his hands in delight. I needed to shush the annoying, taunting voice in my head screaming "GAY!" because I shouldn't even have that fucking voice in my head at first place. It's not like me to judge based on shit like that, I don't like it, even more because I am gay myself and I'd hate it if someone did that to me.
A second clerk had me climb on a small staircase to measure how much the tailor would have to cut off to trim the pants, and I was down in less than two minutes. Once we were both satisfied with the length, I went back to my stall, undressed, came out and paid for the clothes. That set me back almost eight hundred bucks.
Worth it. I looked classy with that. Not too fancy, not too shabby, a bit of color with the purple shirt...
Still... don't make me wear this every day, please.