By Jack Llawayllynn
Chapter 6: Secrets
Matt got up Sunday and immediately went shopping for an electric razor. He still had no wish to look in a mirror. He was afraid that he might not recognize the person that the glass would show him. He knew it was an unreasonable fear, that he couldn't possibly look different now but still he could not face himself. Why, he asked himself, should this thing bother him any more than anything else he had done with Sin? Maybe it was because this he had done willingly, with full knowledge and no excuses. No alcohol, no violence to hype him up. Maybe it was Son's last words. Those two simple words that made him feel so belittled, so small. "Good boy," Sin had said, as if Matt were a child or a dog that had finally perfected a trick. It made Matt sick to think of how those words had pleased him, soothed him, it made him sick and it made him angry. Sin often talked down to him without even realizing it. He called him kid and he called him boy. Matt wasn't even sure if Sin realized that he was belittling him, taking what little bit of dignity was left in his soul.
Matt dragged through Monday and Tuesday at work, not sure if Sin would show up at his apartment at night, hoping he wouldn't, secretly wishing he would. Matt would not and could not admit to himself that he was getting used to Sin, that he wanted Sin around him, not just sometimes but all the time. He wondered what Sin was doing, if he was seeing someone else. He wondered if Sin thought of him, if he went to bed with a hard-on like Matt did, and woke up with one too.
Wednesday and Thursday Matt refused to dwell on Sin, though he caught himself thinking about him often and would have to force his mind to other things. By Friday he had nearly convinced himself that he needed to go see Sin, that maybe Sin was just trying to give him some space and was waiting for Matt to make the next move. That evening though, after Matt got home, he realized he was being foolish and decided to go and get drunk, alone.
Matt dressed casually, T-shirt and blue jeans. The weather was warming so he left his heavy denim jacket at home and just threw a red and black flannel shirt on for warmth. He decided against Clancey's and Big Joe's. When he flagged down a cab he asked the driver if he knew where Chico's was located.
"Yeah, I know it, but are you sure you want to go there?" the cabby asked.
"Why wouldn't I?" Matt inquired curiously.
"Not a lot of white guys go there," was the response.
Matt shrugged, "I want to go to Chico's."
"Up to you buddy, I'm just drivin"
The trip took twenty minutes and Matt had second thoughts almost as soon as he laid eyes on the place. It was down a dirty street that crawled with hookers and drug dealers, not a one of them white. He saw blacks and Latinos, Orientals and various mixes but no whites. The bar itself was garishly lit in neon signs, half of which were in Spanish. The cabby raised a brow at Matt but that made his mind up for him instead of dissuading him. Matt paid the cabby and headed for the bar, his shoulders squared, his stride steady as if he didn't feel in the least out of place. He passed two burly black men who eyed him dangerously. He gave them a slight nod as he passed but one of them put a big hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
"What you doin' here cracker?" the man demanded.
Matt's eyes narrowed but his brain kicked in and he realized that he was walking dangerous ground. He forced a smile and shrugged, saying the first thing that came to mind, "I'm looking for a dude named Estaban."
"You know Estaban?" the second man asked, obviously doubting Matt's statement.
"I've met him. He gave me his card but I...I lost it," Matt said carefully, afraid that maybe they weren't thinking of the same man.
"Ruben, go tell Esty there's a white boy out here looking for him," the first man said, his hand still on Matt's shoulder. Matt continued to smile but inside he felt sick. He had no idea what would happen if it turned out to be a different Estaban or if it was indeed the same one but did not remember him. They stood there what seemed to Matt a very long time, him eyeing the huge man warily, the huge man eyeing him evilly. Finally Ruben returned with Estaban in his wake, the same Estaban who's card Sin had shredded. Matt saw his face light with recognition and sighed inwardly.
"Matt!" Estaban exclaimed, delighted. "Hell, come on in."
"You know this ghost Esty?" the big man asked.
"Well enough," Estaban grinned, winking at Matt. "Hell, let the man go Samson."
The man removed his hand and Matt resisted the urge to shrug away the heaviness where the hand had rested. Estaban cocked his head toward the door. "Come on, I'll take you up to the third where it's not so noisy."
Matt followed him into the bar, the first floor crowded with drunken dancers and pool players. They weaved in and out between the pool tables, stepping over bottles and the occasional limp body. Near the back, by the stairs, there was a black man and a Latino woman having very noisy sex on a pinball machine. Matt tried not to stare as he passed though he was very aware of the stares that followed his entire progress through the room.
The second floor was just as noisy but here the area practically writhed with naked females dancing for drunken and happy male clientele. Matt paused a second to admire an ebony goddess upon a table as she writhed and wiggled to a pounding bass rhythm. Estaban laughed and pulled at his arm and Matt moved on.
The third floor was eerily quiet, filled with tables around which poker players sat with grim expressions, wreathed in cigar smoke. Quite a few eyebrows rose at the sight of a white man in their midst but no one spoke. Matt nodded to a few of the more obvious gawkers but none returned the nods. Finally Estaban lead him through a beaded curtain into a lounge area with leather sofas and chairs and the soft strains of blues music turned down real low. There were a few men lounging around, talking quietly, and one woman snuggled up between two sleepy looking gangsters. Estaban led Matt to a counter where a white-haired old Negro set two shot glasses in front of them and filled them with amber liquid. Estaban nodded to the glass. "Drink," he said and Matt downed the shot, put the glass down and watched as Estaban did the same. The man refilled the glasses and turned away. Estaban picked his up and headed for an empty couch. Matt followed.
"So," Estaban said once they were seated, "how did you know to find me here? Sin tell you?"
"No. I didn't know I'd find you here," Matt admitted.
"No? Ruben said you asked for me by name."
"Well, yes, I did, but it wasn't planned. I just thought I'd go out tonight, you know, see something new. I remembered you mentioning this place and took a cab. Those fellas at the door stopped me and I said the first thing that came to mind."
"That doesn't ring too true. What made you think I'd be here, or that they would know who I was?"
"That's just it, I didn't think, I just spoke." Matt took a gulp from his glass and found that whatever was in it was much stouter than the stuff the man had poured the first time. Matt choked and coughed, his face reddening. Estaban chuckled.
"Go easy on that stuff," he warned.
"I'm glad you were here," Matt said when he could speak again. "I don't think those guys would have just let me walk away."
"Probably not," Estaban admitted, looking over his glass as he took a swallow. Lowering his glass he said, "You never called me."
"Couldn't. I didn't have your number."
"What happened to my card?"
"Sin ripped it up as soon as you were out of sight."
"Jealous is he? That's a new one. Michael Synn, jealous." Estaban seemed to mull it over a minute.
"I don't think it was so much jealousy as hate of you," Matt said then took another swallow, this time carefully.
"You don't know him that well then."
"The way he talked you don't know him very well either."
"Oh, I know Sin quite well. Have for four years. He used to gamble here all the time...among other pursuits of happiness." Estaban watched Matt's face carefully. "How long have you known Sin?"
"Not very long," Matt admitted.
"Has he sent you to the hospital yet?"
Matt's eyes narrowed but he kept his mouth shut.
"Ah, I see. How many times?"
"Just once!" Matt snapped hotly.
"Lucky you. He sent my cousin to the hospital three times before I caught up with him."
"Your cousin come out alright?" Matt inquired, suddenly realizing that he really did not know Sin as well as he had thought.
Estaban's deep black eyes studied Matt again. Matt was fascinated by Estaban's eyes, wondering how they could seem so expressive yet tell nothing of what the man was thinking. "My cousin went back to Madrid to live a solitary life as a virtual hermit."
"Because of Sin?"
"Partly. I cannot lay the blame solely at his feet, no. But some of it." Estaban drained his glass and rose to go get it refilled. Matt sipped at his carefully, finding that after a while it did not burn as badly when he swallowed. Finally he took a deep breath and downed his as Estaban had done. He sputtered a little and wiped his mouth. Estaban came up behind him and took the glass from his fingers, returning a moment later with both refilled.
"You were a virgin when you met Sin?" Estaban asked as he sat back down. Matt gaped at him.
"N...No," Matt stuttered. "I mean I had a girlfriend. We were...we had..." he trailed off, rattled.
"What I meant was whether or not Sin was the first man you have ever been with." Estaban eyed him again, his gaze fathomless, his mouth set in a quirk of a smile.
"Well...yes he was," Matt answered, staring into his glass.
"The only one, I take it," Estaban pressed.
Matt jerked his head up to stare at the small man next to him, speechless. Estaban threw his head back and laughed, a crisp, resounding laughter that gained the attention of the sleepy trio and several others. Matt flushed and buried his face in his glass, taking gulps that nearly suffocated him. Estaban reached out and took the glass from his lips.
"You'll drown doing that." Estaban rose and took the glass with him, returning empty handed. "Come," he said, plucking at Matt's shoulder, "we'll go to my place. It's nearby."
Matt stood and followed numbly. The liquor had more kick to it than he had expected and there was a bit of weave and wobble to his walk. Estaban put out a hand and steadied Matt on the stair. Matt stared down at it upon his sleeve, the slender fingers mocha brown and elegant. Immediately he had a mental image of those fingers stroking him, teasing his cock with a feather-light touch. His dick sprang to attention and Matt closed his eyes to steady himself, almost falling head long down the stairs in the process.
The trip out of the bar was no where near as daunting as the one in. Everyone had already seen him, no one gave him a second glance now. As they left Estaban stopped near Ruben and Samson. "This is Matt. If you ever see him here again let him in, don't worry about what Julio says, just tell him I said it was okay." The two men nodded, eyeing Matt curiously. Matt suddenly remembered Sin giving instructions at the construction site to his men too, but they were told to throw Matt off the property if he ever dared to show up again, not welcome him back anytime.
"Whatever you say boss," Samson said with a shrug that did not at all hide his curiosity. Matt could tell that the men badly wanted to know how he had gotten into Estaban's good graces.
Estaban led Matt to a large black Cadillac parked near the bar and unlocked the doors so Matt could climb in. The interior creaked with new leather and wreaked of a new car. Matt closed the door and buckled up, his mind foggy. He caught a glimpse of Estaban's smile as he slid behind the wheel and closed the door, throwing them into shadow. Estaban started the car and pulled out slowly, carefully. Matt didn't pay attention to where they went or how they got there. He sat trying to figure out how he had ended up alone in a car with someone Sin couldn't stand. The car stopped and Estaban shut it off. Matt looked up at the high-rise apartment building beside the parking deck that they sat in. Estaban climbed out and waited for Matt to follow before setting the anti-theft system on the car. Wordlessly they entered the building and rode up in the elevator to the twelfth floor. Estaban produced a key and opened a door, waving Matt inside. Matt entered and stood weaving on an expensive Inca style carpet.
"Sit," Estaban ordered and Matt made his way to a white leather sofa. He successfully navigated around a glass coffee table and sat down, sinking deep into the cushions. Estaban disappeared deeper into the apartment then returned with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. He poured them out and handed one to Matt.
"Sin would not like it if he knew you were here," Estaban said quietly.
"Fuck Sin!" Matt snapped. "He's not my keeper."
"I think he would beg to differ with you."
Matt snarled silently and Estaban raised an eyebrow. "His chains already beginning to chafe, are they?"
"He has no chains on me!"
"No? What happened to your girlfriend?"
Matt looked over at Estaban curiously. "What has she got to do with anything?"
"Well, I could be wrong but I bet that you broke up with her after meeting Sin."
Estaban sipped his bourbon and lit a cigarette then offered it to Matt. Matt took it with shaking fingers.
"That doesn't prove he's got chains on me," Matt muttered sulkily.
"Perhaps," Estaban said quietly. They sat in silence for a few long moments before Estaban shifted and leaned back lazily into the cushions of the couch.
"You said that you were not really looking for me but now that you have found me what do you want to do?" Estaban asked.
Matt looked over at him wide-eyed. "Do?"
"Yes. What do you want to do?"
"I...I think I'd like to go home." Matt set his glass down and stood up nervously.
"Alright. I'll be glad to drive you unless you prefer a cab."
Matt stared down at Estaban. He had expected arguments or suggestions or hell...anything. That's what Sin would have done but Estaban didn't seem to truly care either way.
"If you don't mind..." Matt started and Estaban rose, pulling his keys from his pocket.
"Not at all. Come, I'll take you home."
Matt followed Estaban back to the car with mixed feelings. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he had gone into the apartment but he had definitely expected something. Now he was leaving with a sense of unfullfillment, or disappointment. Estaban drove him home in silence. Matt thanked him and started to climb from the car.
"Matt," Estaban called before Matt closed the door. Matt leaned down to look back at him, Estaban's straight dark hair catching the glint from a streetlight, his black eyes glittering.
"Yeah?" Matt asked, almost hopefully.
"There's a new movie out that I thought I'd catch tomorrow night. You want to tag along?"
"Sure," Matt said after a moment's hesitation. "Why not?"
"I don't suggest you mention to Sin that you've been talking to me."
"No, I won't"
"Good. Should I pick you up here?"
"Um...no. I'll meet you at Chico's if that's alright."
"Fine, fine. Be there at eight forty five."
"Yeah, I will. See ya." Matt closed the door and waited until Estaban had pulled out into traffic before staggering to his apartment. He locked up, skipped a shower, fell into bed and slipped immediately into sleep.
Matt worried the entire next day that Sin would show up and find out about his plans with Estaban. Why the thought of Sin finding out bothered him so much Matt wasn't sure. After all, it was just a movie.
Sin didn't show up though and Matt arrived in front of Chico's at eight thirty. There were two big black men at the door again but these were not the same men and suddenly Matt worried that he wouldn't be able to get in. He approached the men warily but one of them nodded politely and the other stepped forward, hand outstretched. "You must be Mr. Darvins," he said. Matt's mouth fell open slightly. He was quite sure he hadn't told Estaban his last name.
"Y...yes," Matt managed to get out at last.
"That's Diangalo and I'm Robert. Estaban is not in yet but you're welcome on any floor. We're pleased to have you here at Chico's." He waved a massive hand toward the door.
"Th...thanks." Matt said, casting a glance back at the men as he entered. Everyone glanced up but no one gave him more than a cursory glance, as if he were seen there all the time. Matt passed through the melee on the first floor and climbed the stairs to the second. There he spotted the ebony beauty once more and took a seat to watch her perform. This level was not very crowded yet and so he had an excellent view and was quite enjoying the show. He sat there about ten minutes before another of the dancers sailed up to him and straddled his lap. He looked up into her heavily painted but beautiful Latino eyes and smiled.
"I could be your little Latin lover," she said in a whispery, seductive voice that shivered his spine and brought his dick up hard between her thighs. She smiled as she felt him grow beneath her.
"Is that so?" he asked, cocking his head to one side and lifting a silky black lock of hair from her scantily clad shoulder.
"Oh yes," she breathed as she leaned closer. "All you need is two hundred dollars."
"Two hundred dollars!" Matt gasped and stood so quickly that he dumped her in the floor.
"Why you shit!" she hissed and spat at him.
Suddenly Estaban was upon her, jerking her up and slapping her face. "Don't you ever, ever spit at my guests again Lena! Do you want to keep this job? Do you want to go back out on the streets?" Estaban was shaking her, his eyes like black ice, his teeth bared. She answered him through sobs and hiccups, crying. Suddenly he shoved her away from him. "Go clean yourself up!" he snapped and the girl ran.
"Shit Estaban, I didn't mean to get her in trouble," Matt said, stunned.
Estaban grinned suddenly, his white teeth flashing. "Don't worry about it. Lena's a little bitch, thinks she's better than the other girls. Besides, I'll not have them spitting."
Matt shook his head and shrugged it off. He knew little about whores and less how to handle them.
"You ready to go?" Estaban asked.
"Whenever you are."
They left the bar and Estaban drove them to the theater. They each paid for their own tickets and headed inside. The movie was a rehash of an old story, a thriller that had a decent edge of suspense. About twenty minutes into the movie Matt felt Estaban's hand on his arm and looked down, then up into Estaban's eyes. Estaban smiled a little and took Matt's hand. Neither spoke. Matt felt awkward, sitting in a movie theater holding a man's hand. It wasn't romantic, nor sexual but it was strangely intimate. Once, when the lead actress was crossing a hanging bridge and the villain reached through the slats to grab her ankle, Estaban's hand tightened in Matt's. It was simply an involuntary reflex of surprise but the sudden jerky pressure put a smile on Matt's face. Amused, he glanced over at Estaban but the man's eyes remained riveted to the screen. When the movie ended Estaban quietly slipped his hand from Matt's before the lights came up.
In the car Estaban said, "I was disappointed with the ending. It kind of left me hanging, you know?"
Matt sat silently a moment realizing that he hadn't really been paying attention to the film. He had been thinking about the feel of Estaban's hand, the satiny smooth palm, the elegant long fingers, the way his fingers curled around Matt's own. Finally Matt said, "It wasn't too bad."
"No, no. It was a good film, good directing, I just hated the end." Estaban flipped on his blinker and turned left.
"Yes, a good film." Matt agreed absently, his eyes on Estaban's hands on the wheel.
Estaban glanced over at him sharply. "You okay? You seem distracted."
"I'm fine," Matt said, turning his gaze to the road and realizing they were nearly to Estaban's apartment.
"I thought we'd have a few drinks," Estaban said as they pulled into the parking deck.
Once seated on the white sofa again Matt stirred the ice around in his glass and glanced around nervously.
"Something is definitely bothering you," Estaban said, watching him. "You aren't feeling guilty about Sin are you?"
"No! No, definitely not," Matt averred.
Estaban leaned back and gave him a level stare.
"What?" Matt demanded.
"If it's not Sin that's bothering you then what is it?"
Matt flushed a little. "Nothing," he lied.
"Finish your drink Matt," Estaban said quietly. Matt finished it and set the glass down. "Come on."
"Where?" Matt asked as he followed Estaban down a dim hallway. Estaban didn't answer but opened the door and waved Matt inside. Matt stepped into the room and stopped to stare at the bed covered in an Aztec print spread, objects of Spanish art lining the dresser and covering the walls. "I..." Matt began but Estaban pushed past him into the room and went around lighting candles. He lit four then motioned to the wall. "Hit the switch."
Matt turned off the light switch and they were bathed in the flickering of candlelight. "Peaceful, yes?" Estaban asked.
"I suppose," Matt said doubtfully.
Estaban laughed and crossed the room to Matt. "Jesus, Darvins relax. I won't beat you up like Sin or push you into anything you don't want to do."
"How do you know my last name?" Matt asked suspiciously, suddenly remembering his greeting at Chico's.
"I had you checked out. Can't have a cop infiltrating Chico's place now can we?" Estaban laughed at Matt's stricken look. "I have contacts all over the city. I'm a third owner of Chico's now. I bought a third of it last year. Sin doesn't know, don't tell him."
"I don't like that bastard. The less he knows of me the better." Estaban shrugged out of his shirt.
"Look, Estaban, I'm not real sure I'm ready to..." Matt trialed off as Estaban raised a hand.
"Easy there fella," he said laughing. "I already told you, I'm not the pushy type. There's a television right over there. I thought we'd just lay here and watch the news or MTV or whatever."
Matt stood there a moment longer, his eyes involuntarily scanning Estaban's firm chest. He was slim but by no means scrawny. His muscles were cut and defined, his chest smooth and free of hair. Matt wanted to run his hands across the ribs, just to feel them, just to compare them to Sin's. Estaban stood still and let Matt look. Finally Matt dragged his eyes away and went to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Kick your boots off," Estaban ordered as he pulled his own silver tipped cowboy boots from his feet. He set them at the foot of the bed and Matt set his alongside amused to see how much smaller Estaban's were than his. After a moments hesitation Matt pulled his shirt off as well and laid it over a chair. Estaban patted the bed and Matt sat alongside him, his legs stretched out, his back propped against the headboard. "Here's the remote," Estaban said putting it in Matt's hand. "Choose what you want."
Matt fingered the remote a minute then set it aside on a bedside table without turning the television on. He turned and looked at Estaban who stared at him with knowing eyes. Matt opened his mouth then closed it, uncertain and self-conscious.
"Matt, you can't be shy. It's Sin that has made you so secretive. He attacks like a rabid dog then slinks off into the shadows. He's never there to answer questions or face feelings. He leaves a person ashamed and undone. You don't have to be that way."
Matt blinked at Estaban, his face starting to burn. Suddenly to embarrassed to speak he started to swing his legs off the bed but Estaban grabbed his hand and entwined his fingers with Matt's. "Give it a minute," Estaban said quietly. "Just give it a minute."
Matt settled back down, his eyes on their entwined fingers. They sat a minute in silence, then another. Finally Matt sighed and turned to look at Estaban, to gaze deep into the ebony eyes. As far as Matt could see they were blank, no anger, no passion, no hate, no love, nothing. Not even judgment or disapproval or rebuke. Slowly Matt leaned in closer. Estaban did not pull away. Matt's lips touched Estaban's, gently, then harder. Estaban offered no resistance. Matt pushed his tongue between the satiny, firm lips, tasted bourbon and pepper, smelled spice and talc. He rolled closer, their bodies touching, his hand at last upon the firm ribs, so much more compact than Sin's long torso. Matt lifted his head, his eyes on Estaban's. Still there was nothing in those depths, but a small smile played over the delicate lips and a dark brow rose as if in question to a question. Matt kept the eye contact, his hand traveling lower, over the top of the denim jeans, past the button, down the zipper, exploring the feel of Estaban's erection. Matt had almost feared he would find the man soft, unmoved, but no, Estaban was hard and smiling that crooked smile.
"I want to go down on you," Matt whispered, his eyes still locked with Estaban's.
"Help yourself," was the reply, the smile still amused and beguiling.
"Blow out the candles."
Matt flinched. "Should I then?"
"But..." Matt drew back a little, disconcerted.
"Leave them burning Matt. Why hide in the dark?" Estaban's hand came up from the bed to cover Matt's and press it against the hard bulge under the denim. Matt was still eye to eye with him so he saw the small spark that leapt in the depths of his eyes, the stirring of strong passion finally burning through the careful blinds. Matt inhaled deeply. Still he hesitated. Estaban rose slightly, kissed his lips, just a butterfly's wings of lips on lips. Matt's eyes closed, his dick throbbed against his jeans. He opened his eyes to once more stare into Estaban's. "Help yourself," Estaban said again. Matt lowered his mouth hungrily onto Estaban's, plunged his tongue in shamelessly. At last he tore away and traveled lower, his mouth on chest, nipples, stomach, bellybutton. Estaban lay still and let Matt do as he pleased, flinching only now and then when the pleasure became torturous. Matt dallied awhile before finally reaching for the button on Estaban's pants. Next came the zipper, slowly he inched it down, his eyes once again going to Estaban's who gave him a steady blank stare. Matt grasped the material, pulled it down over the slim hips, the lean thighs, the muscular calves. He tossed the jeans to the floor, reached for the underwear and stripped them away. For a moment he stood over Estaban, looking at him, looking for the first time at another man's body the way he would a woman's. And it aroused him just as much. Estaban was elegant and dark and exotic. He was spiciness and shade and angles. Matt reached out and wrapped his hand around Estaban's dick, felt it stiff and rock hard in his grasp. He was not as big as Sin but certainly he was appealing, silky and soft outside, steel inside. Once more Matt glanced up but now Estaban's eyes glowed. Gone were the shutters. His eyes burned with want and desire and need. Matt felt awed, powerful, and horny as hell. He bent his head and lowered it, then stopped. He heard Estaban take a ragged breath, a broken gasp of need suspended. With a wicked smile he bent closer and breathed on the cock in his hand, a blast of warm, moist air that teased and tantalized.
"Damn it!" Estaban groaned. Matt wasted no more time, he loosened his jaw and slipped the head of the hard dick into his mouth, surprised to taste so much salt and musk. Sin had not tasted much at all, but then there had been water running over him. Matt hovered, adjusting, experiencing, enjoying. He pressed lower, deeper, felt Estaban touch the back of his throat. Again he pressed, wanting to swallow but unsure, and nearly gagged himself. Slowly he backed off, frustrated.
"Easy," he heard Estaban whisper, "there's no rush. Take it slow, prepare for it, breath in first."
Matt breathed in, eased the cock back into his mouth, teased it with his lips, pressed lower, deeper, thought of it touching his throat. This time it was easier to take the pressure on the back of his throat. As soon as it became uncomfortable he came up for air. Again and again he tried and with each push he felt himself relaxing into it, opening to the experience. There was no fear, as there had been with Sin, no pressure to do more than he felt ready for.
"Stop," Estaban said, quietly, calmly. Matt looked up. "Come here." Estaban was wearing that crooked grin, his eyes like glittering jewels. Matt slide up alongside him. Estaban stroked Matt through his jeans. "You shouldn't try that for too long a time when you're new at it. Next time you'll go longer, and still longer the time after that, enjoying it more each time. Right now I'd like to teach you something that I know Sin hasn't taught you."
"Oh?" Matt asked, a little uneasy.
"Trust me. Have I steered you wrong yet? Have I pushed you or pressured you at all?"
Matt peeled his jeans and underwear off and lay back down, his dick standing out like a fishing pole. Estaban wrapped his hand around it and stroked. Matt closed his eyes and sighed. Estaban stopped and Matt looked over at him. Estaban reached into a drawer beside the bed and pulled out a tube of lubricant.
"No way," Matt said, shuttering, thinking of his broken arm and smashed ribs more than anything else.
"You're jumping to conclusions again," Estaban chided as he squeezed some of the contents from the tube into his hand. He tossed the tube aside and once more wrapped his hand around Matt's dick, the lubricant cold and silky against his flesh. For long moments Estaban stroked him, soothed him, teased him. "Roll over on your side toward me," Estaban said quietly. Warily Matt rolled toward him. Estaban continued to pet and stroke, leaning forward to kiss Matt deeply. "Frightened?" Estaban asked him.
"No," Matt sighed, feeling relaxed once more.
Estaban pulled away and shifted around so that he lay at an angle to Matt. "What are you doing?" Matt asked as Estaban threw his right leg over Matt's waist and nudged his left leg between Matt's thighs. Matt found his dick pressed dangerously close to Estaban's buttocks.
"You want to try it, right?" Estaban asked, glancing over at him with his knowing eyes. Matt closed his own eyes and debated whether or not to deny it. Estaban moved against him and Matt knew it was only a matter of thrust to enter Estaban. Gritting his teeth Matt moved, pushing slowly, feeling Estaban's cool hand guiding him. His cock was sheathed in slow warmth, tightly clasped and held. Matt opened his eyes. Estaban had his closed, his chest rising and falling more quickly, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to touch his lip and disappear. Estaban pulled Matt's thigh up higher between his legs so that Matt's thigh lay across Estaban's cock. Matt shuttered, withdrew, pushed. The movement trapped and scrapped Estaban's cock against Matt's thigh. Again he pulled back, thrust. Estaban bucked slightly, bringing more friction. Matt's dick hurt but the pain was splendid. He could feel sweat break along his brow, his lip. He started to move, slowly, then with increasing rhythm. Estaban matched him, writhing, his fists wrapped in the Aztec blanket, his eyes tightly closed, his ebony hair now damp with sweat. Matt lost himself in the motion, driving harder, deeper. Estaban shuddered and came across Matt's thigh. Matt could feel the convulsions of Estaban's release in his own dick, the tight passage becoming momentarily tighter, the pain excruciating. Matt could hold out no longer and came with soul shattering force, his eyes squeezed tight, his breath freezing in his lungs. Some time during the ecstasy Estaban's hand had entwined with his once more and now Matt was dimly aware that his hand was crushing Estaban's but he could not stop, the force of his release drawing his muscles tight. Estaban's nails dug into the back of his hand but this too was a distant thing, unreal and small compared to the intensity of his explosion. Finally the orgasm passed, seeping slowly away, his muscles turning to jelly, his breath exploding from his lungs. How long they lay recovering neither knew but by the time they untangled their limbs the candles were burned low.