Marie Sexton - Coda 02 - A to Z (21 page)

Angelo looked thoughtful before suddenly asking, “You ever been with a girl?”

 

The question surprised me. “Yeah. Not for a long time, but in high school and college, I slept with a few.”

 

“And you got off?”

He was so serious, and I tried not to laugh. “Well, yeah. It was never quite as good as with other men, but it was good enough, I guess.” He looked thoughtful. “You’ve never been with a girl?” He shook his head. “You always knew you were gay?”

He shrugged. “Guess so.” He was quiet for a minute. “Never thought about it much before that first guy. Guess I just had other shit to worry ’bout. Gettin’ moved ’round from home to home. Different schools all the time. Just when I got used to one, they’d move me again. Never had any friends. Always failed my classes. Just bein’ a foster kid, it was like the teachers decided I was a fuckup, before I had a chance to
not
be one. Every school, some dickhead jock wanted to prove how tough he was by pickin’ fights with me. I hadn’t learned how to fight yet. Or how to
not
fight. And I was even smaller then. So I just went where I was s’posed to go and kept my head down. Didn’t really think about guys or chicks, I guess. Not that I remember.

“Just before I turned sixteen, I got put in a new home. Had a foster brother. Bobby. He was seventeen. We shared a room. One morning I woke up, and I could hear him… jackin’ off, you know? It turned me on, so I rolled over so I could see him. And he looked over and saw me watchin’. And he must have been able to tell that I liked it, ’cause he moved the blanket, so I could see everything. I was so fuckin’ turned on. When he came, I came, too, without even touchin’ myself. So, that night, when we went to bed, he started to do it again, but he said, ‘You do it too’. So we watched each other jack off. And then again the next morning. That night, we started again, but then he came over and got in bed with me. At first we were just sorta holdin’ each other but still doin’ ourselves. And that was pretty hot, but suddenly I felt his hand grab me.” His face had been slowly turning scarlet as he talked, and I could feel him growing hard against my leg. “I think I lasted all of two seconds after he touched me.” He blinked up at me, and closed his eyes, like he was ashamed and couldn’t face me. “It was eleven years ago, and I still remember exactly what it felt like the first time he touched me.”

“It’s nothing to feel bad about, Ang.”

 

He opened his eyes again. “I feel guilty. Still turns me on thinkin’ ’bout it. Feel like it shouldn’t, now I’m with you.”

I smiled at him. “Don’t be silly. It turns
me
on thinking about it, and I wasn’t even there.” That seemed to make him feel better. “Did you love him?”

“No, man. It wasn’t like we were friends or anything. We barely even spoke to each other. Just got each other off.”

“He was your first?”
“First fuck? No, we never did that. Everything else, though.” “So what happened?”

“Two weeks after I turned sixteen, his mom caught us. Went total apeshit. Called me a pervert and a freak. Said she was gonna call social services first thing in the mornin’ and have me moved again. I thought, no fuckin’ way am I goin’ to another home. So I packed up my shit and left. Never saw him again.”

I wondered if I would ever get used to hearing about his past and his matter-of-fact acceptance of things that seemed so painful. I hated the fact that nobody had been there to fight for him. “Ang, I’m so sorry.”

“No reason to be.” He shrugged and smiled at me a little. “It don’t matter. It was easier for me, actually. I think ’bout how it must have been for Bobby after that. Havin’ to face his mom. I never had to come out to my family or any of that shit. I never had that whole identity crisis some guys have ’bout bein’ queer. It was just me, and I knew what I liked, and that was it, you know?” For a few minutes, he looked like he was lost in thought. Then he looked back up at me. “It doesn’t bother you, hearin’ ’bout Bobby?”

“No. I suppose if it had happened recently, it might bother me more. But it was a long time ago. I think we both know we weren’t virgins when we met. We both obviously have history with other people.”

His face clouded up. He moved on top of me, brought himself up so that we were eye to eye. “I can’t hear yours.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He kissed me, hard, with a ferocity I had never felt in him before. Then he said hoarsely, “You’re mine now.”

“More than you know, Ang. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” Before he could worry about whether or not to say it back, I reached down and pressed my hand against his erection. “Tell me what you want, Ang. Anything you want.”

I saw desire flare up in his eyes, something more primal and possessive than I usually saw in him. He looked into my eyes and said huskily, “Anything?”

I didn’t hesitate. I knew there was nothing he would ask for that I wasn’t willing to give. “Yes.”

It was like something broke loose inside of him. He suddenly pushed me, hard, onto my stomach. He had never topped. I would have done it for him at any time, but this was the first time he had shown any interest. I heard him fumbling in the drawer by the bed, and there was a second while he opened the tube and got himself ready. Then he grabbed my hips, pulled me up onto my knees, and without any warning he pushed in, hard, all the way. He wasn’t broad, but he was long, and I fought to stay loose around him.

He stopped there, buried to the hilt inside of me. He leaned down against my back and said fiercely, “You’re mine, Zach.” His teeth bit into my shoulder, at the base of my neck, and he sucked hard. It hurt, but at the same time, it was as if he lit a fuse inside me. It burned slowly through me, setting my whole body on fire. He was still deep inside of me, and I moaned and reached for my own cock. He stopped me.

“No.”
I groaned. “Ang, please….”

“No.” His tongue traced up the top of my spine. His hand moved down my stomach but never touched my swollen dick. Then his mouth locked onto my shoulder on the other side, and that sweet pain started again. I was panting, trying to get more, trying to push against him, trying to make the pleasure inside of me match the pain outside, but still he stayed still. He let go of my neck and said, “Say it, Zach.”
“I’m yours.”

Finally his weight moved off of my back. His hand, still slick from the lube he’d applied to himself, closed around my cock, and I cried out. He stroked me a couple of times, then pulled out almost all the way, and started to thrust, slow and deliberate. I couldn’t even hold myself up any more. I let my elbows bend, put my head on the bed, and tried to hang on. Each time, he pulled out almost all the way, before thrusting back in, allowing his thrust to push my own cock through his hand. After that pain and the anticipation, it was almost more than I could stand. His fist on me was already wet with pre-come, and I felt that pressure deep inside of me fighting to break loose.

“Jesus, Ang—”
“Not yet, Zach.”

I tried to hang on, heard myself whimper. It triggered something in him. He drove into me harder. I was gripping the sheets, pulling hard, trying to find some leverage, but he drove me down flat on to the mattress, kept thrusting harder, and his hand on me was fast and urgent, and his teeth were biting into my shoulder again. I might have cried out. Maybe it only felt that way to me. Then I felt him throbbing inside of me, and I finally let go. Finally let that wave of pleasure crash down over me, and it was so intense, I actually thought I saw stars.

I had pulled the sheets halfway off the bed. My head was on the bare mattress. I was laying in the wet stickiness of my own come. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t move. Certainly couldn’t think. Sleep was already pulling me under.

Angelo was still on top of me. He laid his head against my shoulder. “You’re mine,” he whispered.

 

“Yes,” I whispered back.

 

He sighed, and I felt his body relax against mine. He kissed the back of my neck, lightly and said quietly, “I’m yours, too, Zach.” All I could manage to say was, “I know,” before sleep took me.

W
HEN
I woke up the next morning, he was already up. He was sitting on the couch, with a book in his hand and Geisha in his lap. Geisha, of course, jumped up and left the room as soon as she saw me. I climbed onto the couch and stretched out with my head in Angelo’s lap. When I looked up into his face, his eyes were closed.

“We’re going to have to wash the sheets today,” I said lightly. He almost smiled. He opened his eyes and looked down at me sheepishly. “Are you mad?”

 

“Are you kidding, Ang? Not even close. Please don’t tell me that you feel bad about what happened last night.”

 

“A little.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m the one who should apologize. I think it’s considered bad form to fall asleep that fast afterward. You’re supposed to demand that I cuddle first.”

He gave me his lopsided smile. “I’m not a chick.”

“At no point last night did I think that was a chick behind me.” He finally smiled when I said that. “I’m trying to decide which one of my past lovers to tell you about first so you can get all jealous and possessive again.”

He shook his head at me. “You looked in a mirror yet?” “No.”
“Good thing all your shirts have collars.”
I laughed. “Good thing you’re not taller.”
He pushed me off his lap onto the floor, but he was laughing.

I
CAME
home the next afternoon to find the light on my answering machine blinking. I hit play and then dropped my keys on the floor as a familiar voice, low and sexy, came out of the speaker.

“Hey, baby. How’s life in the sticks? I wanted to let you know that I’ve had a change of heart. I want you to come back. I’ll let you have the same location for the price you were paying before. Just give me a call. No strings, Zach. I promise.”

The machine clicked off, and I stood for a minute in stunned silence, thinking about what Tom had said.

I could go back.
Back to my old store. My old apartment. My old life. Sure, I could go back. But why the hell would I want to?

It was so absurd that I laughed out loud. I realized how miserable I had been back then. My life had been stagnant. I had been completely alone. Completely directionless. I had known the store was failing, and I hadn’t cared. And yet, at the same time, I had felt like I had no other options in the world.

In some ways nothing had changed. Even now having just opened the store, I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I knew we only had a few years here in Coda—maybe as few as three, maybe as many as ten. Probably not more than that. What was different was that the thought didn’t bother me. I didn’t necessarily know what I would do next, but I didn’t need to know.

What I did know was this: I had Angelo. We could go anywhere. We could do anything.

Back then I felt like a man in a life raft, waiting for the next storm to finish me off. I realized that hadn’t ever happened; in the end I had been rescued.

Angelo walked in at that moment. “Hey, Zach. You want—” I was still laughing, and he stopped short and grinned at me. “What’s up with you?”

I grabbed him and held him tight against me. “I love you,” I said into his short, spiky hair.

 

He laughed nervously, obviously confused by the fact that I was acting like a nutcase. “Okay.”

 

I pulled back and looked down into his eyes. “Where should we go, Ang?”

 

He was still grinning at me in that lopsided way. “What are you talkin’ ’bout, Zach?”

 

“Where would you like to go? Anywhere in the world.” His smile didn’t change, but his eyes grew more thoughtful. “You talkin’ bout to live or for vacation?”

“I don’t know. Either one, I guess.”
His smile was gone now. “You serious?”
“Absolutely. Just name a place.”

He hesitated for just a moment and then said quietly, “Want to see the ocean.”

His simple answer surprised me. I had been expecting Paris or New York or maybe Rome. But it wasn’t a city at all. “You’ve never seen the ocean?”

He shook his head at me.

The ocean. For somebody who has lived their whole life inland, it can be an amazing thing. I could still remember the first time I saw it, when I was twelve years old. I could remember how small it made me feel. I could remember the sheer beauty of it and the surprise. How it seemed to go forever. The awe that it held life. The wonder at its strength. Even as young as I had been, it had felt like a life-changing moment for me.

I could give that to him.

 

“I’ll take you there, Ang. Where do you want to go? California? Florida?”

His cheeks were red, but he didn’t look away. “Oregon.” “Okay.” What the hell was in Oregon? “Why?”

His blush got deeper, but he didn’t hesitate. “Had a foster mom once. Used to talk ’bout goin’ to see her family in Oregon. They’d go out and catch fresh crab. Said you can bring them in and cook them in big pots right on the dock.” He smiled at me, just a little. “Always wanted to sit on the dock too. Cold beer and fresh crab and the ocean.” His eyes closed for a minute, and I knew he was embarrassed, but then he looked back up at me. “Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“No.” I held him tight against me and felt his arms go around my waist. “It’s not stupid. We’ll go in the spring, Ang. I promise.” “Why?” he asked, and I could tell by his voice that he was smiling again.

 

All I could do was shrug. “Because we can.”

O
PENING
night at the theater finally arrived. Of course I let Angelo pick the movies. We opened the day before Thanksgiving. Wednesday was all dedicated to the teenagers, since they didn’t have school that day. They didn’t exactly sit and watch the movies much, but we had a full house, and they bought more soda and popcorn and candy than I would have thought possible. We had one show on Thanksgiving night,
The Nightmare Before Christmas
, which I thought was downright weird, but Angelo assured me was perfect—a family movie that somehow was about both Halloween and Christmas at the same time. He showed it again as our Friday matinee. That evening was ladies’ night. He showed
Chocolat
, and I almost ran out of wine, those women drank so much. Then on Saturday we did our first date night, which included dinner.