Mob Men Ch. 02

I wake up again when Alex stirs. It's getting dark outside and I want a cigarette. Careful not to disturb the man sleeping on my chest, I reach over the side of the bed. I fumble for the pack in my coat pocket, only to find a much larger box.

"What the hell?" I grumble, yanking it from the coat. It's nicotine gum. Fucking hell. Alex must have replaced it before he fell asleep. My cigs will be crumpled up in the trash by now. Selfish asshole.

Alex sighs and squeezes my waist. I think he's still asleep, but it's time to go.

"Hey," I say. I poke him in the cheek. "We need to leave."

"Hm mm," he disagrees, burying his nose into my chest. The sheet is draped partially over his buttocks, exposing half of the design that scrawls over them. Alex is exactly the type of guy to get a tattoo that covers both his ass cheeks. It barely avoids being a tramp stamp.

"Seriously, we need to get a move on," I insist. "Ouch! Quit fucking biting me!"

Alex opens an eye and grins, removing his teeth from my nipple. "You like it."

I do.

"You know, Mario," he says, propping his chin on his fist. "Being around you is like trying to solve a Rubik's cube. I get excited every time I figure something else out. It's like 'fuck yeah, I owned you, Rubik's cube.'"

"Huh?"

"Well, you don't talk much," Alex explains, "so I have to figure out a way to pull everything out of you. At first I couldn't even tell if you liked being around me. I wasn't sure how I felt about you, either."

I'd heard that before from frustrated women. In their eyes at first I'm mysterious, then I'm just quiet, and finally I'm unfeeling. My own parents thought I was special needs until I was in junior high school.

"But you're not simple," he continues, playing with my belly button. "I know that there are a lot of wheels turning behind those dark eyes. Even when we're fucking, I can tell you're thinking about shit, as though the act of being fucked is a philosophical journey into the dark heart of man."

I turn my eyes to the ceiling and run my fingers through his hair. "You make me sound tortured or something."

Alex sits up and straddles my waist. "Aren't you, in a way? And I know you only play with my hair when you're embarrassed."

Well, he's put his head too far out of reach for me to do that now. "Aren't you fucking observant."

"It's because you're fucking fascinating," he replies, bending down to kiss me. "It's a challenge, especially because the way you identified yourself has gotten knocked around ever since I got you to blow me in the alley." Alex pats my cheek. "My goal is to know you better than you know yourself."

I look at his pale blue eyes, tall slender nose, and upturned lips. He's not saying something, I'm not sure what, probably because he thinks I don't want to hear it. Alex once told me that he always took his toys apart when he was a kid. He wouldn't try to reassemble; he just wanted to see how they worked. I'm the best toy he's ever had, I bet. I just worry about the part where I don't get put back together.

Alex chuckles. "There you go again. Except given that I'm sitting on top of you and you're not at all excited, you're probably thinking the wrong thing. I didn't mean to sound so manipulative."

If I'm not a toy to be dismantled, then...

"There's the smile I wanted," he says, pinching my cheek playfully.

"Shut up," I roll my eyes.

"Aw, Mario's shy. It's so sweet!" He smacks me with a pillow. I sit up and wrestle him into a headlock.

"You're a selfish, cocksure bastard," I grunt, trying to maintain the hold without getting pinched or tickled.

"Which is," Alex pants, shoving me off of him, "why," he pauses to fend off the pillow I'm swinging at him, "you like me so much."

"I never said I liked you." I dive at him, tackling him around the middle.

Alex wraps his arms around my chest and tries to throw me off. "You said I was your type."

"I didn't," I huff. I'm stronger than he is, but he has those lanky limbs.

"Okay," he concedes right as I finally pin his legs down with mine. "But you said that you didn't look like my type, thereby implying that I was yours."

"Another row on the Rubik's cube?" I ask, fighting off his grasp.

Instead of responding Alex goes limp so that I fall into him. Alex locks his arms around my back and waits until I stop struggling. We're covered in sweat and fully erect.

"What," Alex laughs softly, "were you thinking all this time that I was just using you? You should know a stupid excuse when you hear one."

My face is smushed against his shoulder, so I don't respond.

Suddenly Alex pulls my head up so that he's looking into my eyes. "Stay the night," he says. "We have the room. Stay here."

Stay the night. It sounds easy. Alex says it earnestly, as though he truly believes that neither of us will suffer the consequences, as though no one will come looking, as though we're lovers. Like we could order room service and fuck and answer to no one. He told me once that he chose me because the Ivanovs wouldn't touch me. It had made sense at the time, but as my family got more and more suspicious I realized what they would to do me if they found out about Alex and me. Sometimes the waiting, the act of not saying anything, is torture. I want to be out with it, for the fighting and the disowning to be over and done. I couldn't see these meet-and-fucks continuing after, though. Maybe that was why I had kept my trap shut.

"Mario," Alex says, interrupting my train of thought, "tell me you'll stay. It's just one night."

It's a bad idea. It's worse than meeting him for coffee. It's worse than blowing him in an alley. It's worse than getting fucked. It's worse than starting to look forward to Alex's phone calls. It's worse than waiting to be found out, it's worse than wanting to get all that shit over and done with.

I shake my head, still cradled in Alex's hands. "I can't."

"Please." Alex begs with such sincerity that I'm taken aback. "Just give me this one night." He presses his forehead to mine. "Just once."

This once could get me killed. It's a bad idea. Fucking stupid.

I nod. "Just once."

***

The second time we met up was the first time we fucked. It was pretty bad.

Alex had me on my back with my legs over his shoulders, working his fingers in and out.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Not anymore, but it feels really weird."

"Like you gotta shit?"

I was a little taken aback, but I guess when you have anal sex there are new questions and problems. The only woman I'd ever assfucked had been a hooker at my cousin's eighteenth birthday party. That woman had known how to take it, and so all I had needed to worry about was a condom.

"Kind of."

Alex bent his brown head and withdrew his fingers. I held on to the backs of my knees while he pulled at my ass with his thumbs.

"You have a tiny hole," he said, as though it was my fault.

I put my head down on the pillow. "If yours is bigger I can fuck you instead, fucking Commie." I didn't mean it.

Alex snorted, then grabbed the condom packet. "Turn over. I figure if you can take three fingers, you can handle me."

Rolling over, I wondered again why I was doing this. "Why do you want to do this again?" I asked. "Why did I let you talk me into this?"

Alex parted my ass cheeks with his hands. "Pure experimentation, m'boy," he replied cheerfully, running his covered cock over my hole. "If I'm going to piss off my family, might as well make something out of it. Hey, don't forget to breathe."

I didn't respond, firstly because that seemed like kind of a weak explanation, secondly because "breathe" was shitty advice, and thirdly because there was a dick trying to make its way up my ass for the first time in my life.

"Fuck," I said through clenched teeth.

"Push out," Alex suggested.

"Hang on," I begged. I kept thinking, exit, not an entrance, but I breathed deeply and tried to relax. "Okay."

Alex went slowly, though I'm not entirely sure whether it was because he was being considerate or if it was because I had trouble letting him in. It was a fucking slow, agonizing process. I cursed into the pillow the whole time, but for some stupid reason I was determined not to quit halfway.

"How's that?" Alex asked when he was all the way in. It felt like everything from the chest down was trying to reject him. It should have been obvious proof that my body was not built to take dick.

"Ah, uh," I was finding it hard to form a proper sentence, "you can keep going. Just don't pull--" a spasm of pain wracked through my guts, "oh, fuck, just don't pull the head out." I resumed my stream of quiet curses.

Alex obliged and was trying to take it slow, I guess. However, the man was looking to bust a nut, he had his dick in a warm, tight hole, and I wasn't telling him to get the fuck off. He sped up too soon for my taste, and we probably should have used a lot more lube. My ass ring was on fire. Nothing felt torn, but even after I got used to it there was nothing but pain.

Alex pulled out when he was finished and flopped beside me for a minute. "God, that was weird," he said.

I didn't realize that I had been clenching my jaw until I started laughing.

"What?" he asked.

I wiped my eyes. "You just fucked a 'tiny hole' to a happy ending. And it was weird?"

Alex got up and went to the bathroom. I wondered if I had offended him, but didn't say anything. How would I ever sit down again?

The bed dipped between my legs. I felt Alex pull one of my ass cheeks, then a cool washcloth on the place that needed it most. That felt weird.

"It was weird because it felt good, but I know it sucked for you," he explained. "Sorry about that, man."

Maybe it was because I hadn't had anyone wipe my ass since I was in diapers. Maybe it was because I was in a strange mood that month. Or, maybe my mouth was possessed. My brain wasn't working but my damn cake hole opened and replied, "Forget about it. The first time always hurts, I read. I'll get used to it."

"Good," Alex said.

That was how it didn't end.

***