?

Log in

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Al's apartment, a few days later

Spending more of my time here, now. Much of it as I can, really.

Still have to be careful, of course. Think Al's got some kind of plan in place to tidy away any evidence of our previous deal; figure I'm better off not knowing the details.

But we've been able to get up together in the mornings, mostly, and I'm here when he comes back from work - which seems to be getting earlier, these past days. And it's - easy. More absurdly domestic than I'd've thought possibly, when he straightens my tie under my chin with a slight frown for my scruffiness, or I take his jacket and kiss him as he comes in the door. Almost frightening how fast it's starting to feel normal, him and me, here. Not sure I realised how I've missed living with someone, since Syl. Knowing it'll last, god willing. Knowing that I'm home.

[Open to Al]

Tags:

Comments

al_shairan
Sep. 16th, 2010 01:34 pm (UTC)
"Sure you haven't a clue. Sure you wouldn't imagine me at my computer, in a dark room - hand down my pants - watching some guy get overpowered by another man. Forced to his knees, or face down.... And then going back to bed with a woman, and trying not to think about it. Or thinking about it, during...."

Oh, the thought of that... It does as much - or more - than his hand on my prick.

"Minx," I say cheerfully, and I bite his ear.

"It's never been the technical stuff I like. 'S the stories behind it, I think. The ideas.... And, of course," I add, "the hot people."

"Ah, the stories. I always had books for that. But then, I am terribly old fashioned." I quirk my eyebrows at him, since I am sure he will make some smart remark about my age. I am forty in a couple of weeks, and I am quite sure he has many things to say about that.

"Got to say, I'm curious about what you like. Or what you keep for your guests. Can't imagine who'd need it, with you right there. Guessing it's pretty impressive."

His hand is on my cock again, so I believe he quite likes the idea. I step back, a little reluctantly, and flick the cinema system on.

"Tidier than dvds," I say breezily, and scroll to the ADULT menu. "It is useful to have a range of options available. As for what I like... My tastes have tended to the fierce, as you might expect. I like watching fighting before fucking," I say, choosing one example from the menu and fast forwarding to one man wrestling the other to the ground, both of them sweating, lips bloodied, "and fucking that seems like fighting. But that, I doubt, surprises you." I smile at him. "For a while I had a thing for porn with supposedly straight men satisfying their desire for cock, but that is something I outgrew, along with actually picking up men who claimed to be straight." I am quite sure Tez knows where that phase of my life came from.

tezcatl_ipoca
Sep. 16th, 2010 05:13 pm (UTC)
He bites me, not gently. "Minx." Finding it strangely easier, these days, to talk about these things - since that night when everything changed. Since he told me this was always, and made me ask for what I needed.

"But then, I am terribly old-fashioned."

I look between him and the newly-revealed screens. "Terribly," I say drily. "I don't know how your aging brain keeps up with the demands of the modern world." Given that I can't manage to work out the fucking light switch.

He moves away a bit. His hard on looks strange to me in his dress-like clothes, tenting out the front, but it doesn't make me want to laugh. Makes my mouth dry. "I like watching fighting before fucking, and fucking that seems like fighting. But that, I doubt, surprises you. For a while I had a thing for porn with supposedly straight men satisfying their desire for cock, but that is something I outgrew, along with actually picking up men who claimed to be straight."

What's on the screen makes my muscles clench, back and thighs and gut. Wonder what him watching this with other guys has led to, in the past.

Manage to register the last bit of what he's saying (fucking Gabe) and raise my eyebrows at him. "Stopped picking up straight guys? Just when the fuck did that happen?" Reflect a bit, and correct myself. "Men who claim to be straight." Even with how I'm feeling, it comes out a bit shy. Of everything, think that might be the thing that feels weirdest.
al_shairan
Sep. 16th, 2010 05:36 pm (UTC)
Tez is clearly distracted by the porn, which contributes to my eyebrow raise when he says "Stopped picking up straight guys? Just when the fuck did that happen?" He pauses, and adds: "Men who claim to be straight."

"Oh," I say breezily, "I was not counting you. That was supposed to be more business than pleasure, although I found you ... somewhat intriguing before we first fucked. But it was a bit of a hobby of mine for a while after I came back to Excolo." He knows when that was. "It stopped after my greatest triumph in that department, which was fucking a groom at his own wedding reception. Not because I felt guilty, but because I nearly called him the wrong name - " and again, Tez will know what that was - "and I thought to myself what the fuck are you doing? That is not to say," I add laconically, "that I did not have sex with a few in the closet types after that... They are quite easy to pick up on business trips in particular. All those anonymous hotels." I smile at Tez. "They were not usually the hottest fucks, though. Too nervous." I run my hand down the front of his shirt. "You were nervous," I observe, "but that did not seem to matter. I replayed that first night with you many times after," I say, and I put his hand over my cock to demonstrate what kind of replaying I mean.
tezcatl_ipoca
Sep. 16th, 2010 08:09 pm (UTC)
Somewhat intriguing. Hah.

Wonder if he'll miss that - picking guys up. Wonder what it was like. His hand strokes down my chest and stomach, finds mine and presses it over his cock.
"I was...obsessed with you, after we met," I confess. "I didn't understand why, not really. There was a time - for a long time I could only let myself think it was a dream - I couldn't stop thinking about you." Another advantage of his getup: I can grip him properly through it, wrapping a handful of cloth around his cock and giving it a gentle squeeze. Replaying, indeed.

"And I was fucking terrified," I add honestly. Figure he knows why, the various complex twisted-together reasons. "Fuck," I say, and it's almost a sigh because it's a relief to say it, to admit it, "I wanted you so much, before I even realised."
al_shairan
Sep. 16th, 2010 08:54 pm (UTC)
"I was...obsessed with you, after we met. I didn't understand why, not really. There was a time - for a long time I could only let myself think it was a dream - I couldn't stop thinking about you."

He squeezes my cock, and I breathe out.

"And I was fucking terrified. I wanted you so much, before I even realised."

He was terrified, but he came to me anyway, and look at us now. So very different to anything I might have expected from him. I underestimated him, when we first met. I thought he was just another closet case, albeit one with which I found myself strangely interested.

"You were afraid, but you came home with me," I say. "Thank fuck." I kiss the side of his face. "Though that did not surprise me so very much. I thought you might want to fuck me. But I also thought you might be too afraid to do it again." I run my hand over the front of his pants. "I am glad your desires were stronger than your fears." I give him a mischievous grin, and then my expression sobers. "It was not just the sex, for me, that made me want to see you again." I think of us here in this apartment, how I opened a book of poetry and read it to Tez, how we kissed open mouthed and slow by my bookcase, and then upstairs the way he purred my name, the strange easiness of conversation after fucking. "I felt - a strange connection with you from the start, though I did not want to admit it."
tezcatl_ipoca
Sep. 16th, 2010 09:03 pm (UTC)
"Thank fuck. Though that did not surprise me so very much. I thought you might want to fuck me. But I also thought you might be too afraid to do it again."

"Once we did," I say quite seriously, "I knew I would again. I couldn't imagine not. Not after - that."

Going to add more, but he's saying what I was going to: "It was not just the sex, for me, that made me want to see you again. I felt - a strange connection with you from the start, though I did not want to admit it."

I'm thinking of the morning, sunlight on the balcony. Taste of figs and honey. "Me too. If it had just been the sex - well. Not saying I wouldn't have fucked you again." Grin at him. After all, it was fucking mindblowing. "But that wasn't what I - needed. Not...after that."

I tug very gently on his cock again, through the cloth. I can feel the heat of him against my palm. I'm thinking of pushing his skirt up and getting on my knees, sucking him ever so gently, mouth soft and wet as I can make it. Start to ease the fabric up with my other hand, just slowly.
al_shairan
Sep. 16th, 2010 09:15 pm (UTC)
"Me too. If it had just been the sex - well. Not saying I wouldn't have fucked you again. But that wasn't what I - needed. Not...after that."

I nod, and I breathe out as he tugs my cock again, starts pushing up the hem of my thawb.

"I kept thinking," I say, voice a little thick, "that I should stop seeing you. I think I knew, early on, that you were a risk. I never let myself care about the men I fucked after I married Lily, and even before then... I could like them, but that was all. And you..." I am losing track a little of what I am saying. "I think I knew," I say, after a quiet moment, "when you told me Danika was pregnant. When I pushed you up against the stall and fucked you. I think I knew I was falling in love with you then, but it was not until some time later that I could admit it."
tezcatl_ipoca
Sep. 16th, 2010 09:36 pm (UTC)
Pull the fabric up further, hands brushing his warm thighs. Faint tickle of hair, and I wet my lips.

"I think I knew when you told me Danika was pregnant. When I pushed you up against the stall and fucked you. I think I knew I was falling in love with you then, but it was not until some time later that I could admit it."

"I didn't understand why I let you do that, then." Pause, my hands holding his skirt just covering his balls. "You thanked me, afterwards, and I didn't know why I went home with you instead of punching you in the mouth." He'd hurt me, badly - I remember the blood - fucked me though I'd said no, and then he kissed the back of my neck and I asked him to have a drink with me. "Should've fucking known then. Always been a bit slow with things like that, I guess."

Finally tug the fabric right up, above his cock, so that it shows a strip of lean, lightly furred stomach. I want to kiss him there. "Hold that," I say, and start to get to my knees. "Your skirt, I mean." Want to get my mouth on him.

al_shairan
Sep. 16th, 2010 09:51 pm (UTC)
Should've fucking known then. Always been a bit slow with things like that, I guess."

I smile, and I touch the back of his neck.

"Not the quickest to catch on, perhaps, but when you do it seems to stick." I rub my thumb along the skin above his collar.

He gets my thawb pulled up, and I feel pleasurable anticipation rising.

"Hold that. Your skirt, I mean."

"...Did you just call this a skirt?" I say, and I step back slightly, letting it drop back down. "What next, are you going to call me a raghead?" I fold my arms. "This is a thawb," I say, "also called a dishdasha. Its length denotes my masculine status, by the way," I say, and arch an eyebrow at him. "If I were going out in it, I would wear it with serwal, which are pants, but I do not feel the need to do that around the house." I give him a stern look.
tezcatl_ipoca
Sep. 16th, 2010 10:31 pm (UTC)
...well, that was unexpected.

"What next, are you going to call me a raghead?" He steps back, and there's something defensive in his stance.

What the fuck. "Why the hell would I do that? Have I ever said anything that would make you think I'm some kind of - of anti-Arab racist fuckwad?" He thinks I don't stand in line at the grocery store listening to the woman behind me going on about all the fucking illegal Mexicans going on welfare and taking all the jobs?

He lectures me on his clothes - his thawb ok - and jesus, Al, I wasn't making a crack. I just didn't fucking know what it was called. Does he think I'm impugning his masculinity or something? Be easy to yell at him, but
...fuck. I didn't want to hurt him. "Look, fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't know - I didn't mean anything by it, ok?"
al_shairan
Sep. 16th, 2010 10:44 pm (UTC)
"Why the hell would I do that? Have I ever said anything that would make you think I'm some kind of - of anti-Arab racist fuckwad?"

"I am not a fucking Arab," I spit. "We're not all the fucking same."

"Look, fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't know - I didn't mean anything by it, ok?"

I breathe out, and I let my shoulders drop.

"I know," I say. "I am sorry, too." I reach out and touch his shoulder lightly; the contact is comforting. "It is... complicated for me. People forget that I am not a white man - my colouring is unusual, but not rare in Iran, but it is not what people think of when they think of the Middle East. They see my fair hair and blue eyes and they assume I have a tan." I shrug. "And I dress like a Westerner most of the time, and I am an American as well as an Iranian, but." I am not precisely sure what I am trying to say. "It is important to me, my heritage. You and I will probably never go to Iran together, but... I want you to understand something of it. Of where I am from."
tezcatl_ipoca
Sep. 16th, 2010 11:07 pm (UTC)
"I am not a fucking Arab. We're not all the fucking same."

Actually take a step back. Think this is one of the rawer nerves I've touched in Al, and my stomach's knotted hard and sudden. Knew he didn't speak Arabic, but.... Still hard for me not to think of him as another rich white guy, in some ways. Remember the first time I saw his heritage properly in his face - the first time I saw him dressed like this. Still thought I hated him, then.

"I know. I am sorry, too." Slackens my tension - my fear, I realise - some. "It is... complicated for me. People forget that I am not a white man - my colouring is unusual, but not rare in Iran, but it is not what people think of when they think of the Middle East. They see my fair hair and blue eyes and they assume I have a tan. And I dress like a Westerner most of the time, and I am an American as well as an Iranian, but."

I understand some of that. Take a breath, try to work out what to say. Aware I've fucked up, badly. "I - do get some of that. You know." People don't even know half my own racial background exists. Always call me Hispanic, here, and I've learned to hate that word. But what I am isn't altogether invisible, the way he's talking about. "I..." I shake my head, pinch the bridge of my nose.

"It is important to me, my heritage. You and I will probably never go to Iran together, but... I want you to understand something of it. Of where I am from."

Okay, that I can do. "Want to understand it," I say, a bit awkwardly. Mean I want to understand him. "I thought of learning a bit of your language. When I'm...not working." Feel like a fucking idiot saying that, for some reason, that I'd thought of that.
al_shairan
Sep. 16th, 2010 11:25 pm (UTC)
"I - do get some of that. You know."

I nod, because I do.

"Want to understand it. I thought of learning a bit of your language. When I'm...not working."

I feel myself smile at that, and the tension in me eases out.

"I would like it if you did," I say, and I kiss his palm. "And I can teach you words," I say, smile curling up a little. "This is dast," I say, turning his hand over in mine. "And this is me'deh," I add, pulling up his shirt and placing my hand on his stomach. "And this," I say, leaning in and touching my mouth to his, "is dæhan." I smile. "Very educational."
tezcatl_ipoca
Sep. 16th, 2010 11:35 pm (UTC)
Seems like we're ok. Thank fuck. His breath on my palm makes me shiver, though I've lost most of my hard on. "And I can teach you words. This is dast. And this is me'deh. And this is dæhan. Very educational."

I grin at him. "Body parts first?" Brush my hand over his dick. "Motivation to learn, I guess."

Reach out and tug him into me, hand on the small of his back. "What language did you speak at home?" I ask. "When you were growing up?" Wonder if he's got any photos from when he was younger. "I like the fact," I add, "that I can feel you through your - thawb." Pretty sure my pronunciation's off. Slide my hand down to his ass. Tug the cloth up a bit at the back. "Useful, too."
al_shairan
Sep. 16th, 2010 11:47 pm (UTC)
"Motivation to learn, I guess." I smile and breathe in at the feel of his hand.

"What language did you speak at home? When you were growing up?"

"Farsi and English," I say. "My parents wanted us to be fluent in both. We would switch in and out of them. Until I went to school I did not realise properly that most people did not do this," and I frown slightly, remembering that first surprise. "I went through a brief phase as a child of not wanting to speak Farsi at all, but I got over it..." I smile as he pulls up the back of my robe.

"I like the fact that I can feel you through your - thawb."

I laugh.

"I just had the strangest thought of what would my father have made of that remark. I am sure he would not have approved of our garb being appreicated in such a way." I grin at Tez. "That is a complication too, of course," I add more seriously. "It is a serious thing, to be an Iranian man and to desire men. My identity has always been ... fractured." I pull the thawb up and over my head, drop it next to him. "But I know who I am." I start unbuttoning his shirt. "Do you ever get homesick?" I ask, pushing his shirt off his shoulders.
tezcatl_ipoca
Sep. 16th, 2010 11:57 pm (UTC)
"I just had the strangest thought of what would my father have made of that remark. I am sure he would not have approved of our garb being appreicated in such a way."

"Don't think your father would've appreciated me much at all. And not just cos I'm male." There's yet another advantage to it: instant nudity. Watch appreciatively.

"It is a serious thing, to be an Iranian man and to desire men. My identify has always been...fractured. But I know who I am. Do you ever get homesick?"

Think about what his father did to his first lover. Yeah. A complication, indeed.

"I didn't think I did," I say. His hands're on my shirt buttons; I like him undressing me, so I drop my hands to the side and let him. "Until I went back. Then - it was the smells of the place, weirdly. Just...when I got back, it was like Excolo smelled wrong." I shrug, and let him push my shirt off. "Now...I think of it more." And there's knowing that he's dead, and I'm free of that part of my past. Try not to let that show on my face. "Don't think I'd go back." Not without Al, though I don't say that either.

Profile

poster
tezcatl_ipoca
tezcatl_ipoca

Latest Month

February 2014
S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
232425262728 

Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by chasethestars