Read the last instalment of What is this Love? Part 4 here.
“Who the fuck are you?!”, Pablo’s screeched, in a surprisingly fruity tone. For his build and size, I just well, expected him to be a little more butch.
Pablo’s entrance woke up Ricky, who, after hacking up a lung, came to my defence. I was just standing there, naked, in front of the guy who I thought wasn’t with the guy I was in to. #gayboyproblem
“It doesn’t matter who he is, Pablo. The better question is why the fuck do you still have a set of keys?!” Ricky was visually pissed. His muscles seemed enflamed, sweat trickled from his brow. The humidity lingered in the apartment like that guest from out of town who just won’t take the hint that they’ve stayed too long. I kinda felt the same way, at least at that moment.
As they went at it, exchanging words fit for sailors, I slowly crept away. Gathering my clothes with my toes and walking backwards towards the bathroom I couldn’t help but giggle to myself. Watching Ricky blast Pablo in the front hall, his tight and perky bubble butt illuminated from the sun coming through the window.
I made it to the bathroom and started to dress quickly. What the fuck did I get myself into? I thought to myself. I had been pretty sure Pablo was out of the scene. I guess he was. Based on Ricky’s reaction at least. I was really not into drama. Kinda stayed away from it at all costs. I once dated a guy who would freak out every time I went out for a jog. Where you going? How long you gonna be? When are we gonna see each other? Serious.
I was really into Ricky. He seemed too real for this world of fake friends and phantom faces. He seemed to really have a head on his shoulders. His very muscly, broad, sculpted shoulders. God, he must spend 7 days a week at the gym. And don’t even get me started on his dick. It was beyond perfection, without going into too many details.
He was perfection. Everything I always wanted.
At that point, I could hear the voice of my nana (grandmother) echoing in my head. Well, not for real real. Like, I wasn’t crazy or nothing. Right? Anyway, she would always tell me that I fell for guys way too fast. Usually after a “night of passion”, she would say. Yeah, “passion”, sure nana. She was from Columbia. I guess it was a Latin thing.
By the time I had finished putting on my clothes the barking outside had come to a stop. In fact, I didn’t hear much at all. A bit worried I poked my head out of the door like a frightened turtle. They weren’t at the door, or in the hall.
A little curious and a lot more clothed, I left the bathroom to find Ricky. The heat in the apartment was amplified with my clothes on. My shirt was already clinging to my sides, stuck to my skin with the slick sweat oozing from my skin. The tequila stung my brain as I made my way through the unknown space that was his apartment. I was gonna call out to him, but was worried Pablo was still around. So I just looked around a bit more.
I was pretty much ready to leave when I heard some noise coming from upstairs. What’s the point of going upstairs? I thought to myself. Just head out and send him a text, thanking him for an awesome night and asking him to meet up again, soon. Very soon. Then again, I really wanted to see him before I left, so I started up the stairs.
His paintings lined the walls heading upstairs. He was so talented with his hands. On the top of the landing I could hear someone in the room to the right. I never really saw past the front hallway, so I really couldn’t say what the rest of the of the apartment looked like.
The door slightly ajar, I peered in. It was his bedroom. Definitely his bedroom. He lay on his back in the bed, Pablo was on top of him. He was thrusting into him. Into Ricky. Ricky’s arms were around Pablo’s neck, kissing him hard. His body rose and fell with the movement of Pablo’s hips. Ricky’s ecstasy was clear, as he leaned his head back and opened his mouth releasing the sounds I was trying to decipher downstairs.
I just stood there. I really didn’t know what to feel. I guess they both thought I had left when I had retreated like a coward to the bathroom. A part of me was really pissed off. What a fucking slut-bag! A part of me was heart broken. I thought I had found a guy that I could potentially be with. A guy who checked his baggage (including his exes) at the door. And a little part of me, now a very large part of me, was really turned on. I mean, when you think about it, which I don’t often tend to do, Ricky and I weren’t together. He didn’t owe me anything, nor I him. Watching their perfectly sculpted bodies locked together, dripping with sweat, was more than enough to get me hard.
But wait! The other half of my brain said. He’s still a jerk off! You really liked this guy, and now he’s shown you that he’s not much more than an ass. A nice perky ass, but an ass nonetheless.
At that point it didn’t matter. Ricky looked up from the pillow his face was buried in (they had switched to doggy) to see me peering in. Instead of shocked, he shot me a version of his show stopping grin. It was one of pleasure, but also one that asked me, Do you like what you see? I didn’t know what to do, or what to make of the situation. Was he patronizing me? Was he telling me to join them?
I agreed with my head and my heart at that moment that this was just too much for me to handle. As I turned to walk away and leave, I heard Pablo’s voice again. This time it was much lest fruity and peppered with panting. He was working hard, I guess.
“Marc”, he called out. “Come join us.”
To be continued….