DISCLAIMER ==========
This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2000 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:
- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON. And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.comAnd if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.crosswinds.net/~savante/Write.html
His dark, powerful hands caught at me and pulled me closer even as his lips crashed into mine. As his latest assault left me reeling, his hot tongue met mine in a series of skilful movements that had me instantly hard. Our tongues duelled as we fought our way towards the settee. Impatient with the clothes that were hiding the treasure within, I started tearing at the buttons on his khaki shirt, flicking them aside as they flew. Hot, quivering male flesh came alive under my fingers as I drew the cloth aside.
Intent on my pleasure, a deep, answering groan nonetheless escaped from the man as my thumb flicked across his right nipple. The hard, burgeoning thrust of his crotch confirmed the fact that he liked what we were doing and I smiled to myself.
With a gasp, I woke up. I was still in my mid-town office in the hospital. My oxford shirt was soaked with sweat, my heart was running at double speed and there was a rising tent in the front of my chinos demanding attention.
God, even now I couldn't get the man out of my mind. I knew it would come to this. The man was like an irresistible drug that seeped into your system, working his sweet but implacable way into your thoughts. Damn Rafe Morelli.
It had been almost 2 months since we'd started this. The initial blistering hot fuck in Morelli's garage had gone on to a week. And then before we knew it, it had progressed to become a month. And in that time, we still hadn't gotten enough of each other. Purely physical, that was all it was. Just head-banging, mind-blowing, steaming-testosterone sex. Like oversexed, humpy rabbits, we'd gone through every known variation in the gay sex handbook and then gleefully repeated it to make sure we were getting it right. There was no doubt that Morelli was pushing all my buttons just right. Just one look at his tight Italian ass was all it took to get me going. Hard, sleek globes of muscle with twin furrows at the sides that I could just fit my hands into. Perfect.
All the time we were together, there was no talk of our feelings, of the future, about where this relationship was going. Apart from the blistering-hot sex, everything remained pretty much the same. Sure, there were a few changes in my life now such as my car purring pleasantly each morning ever since he came by as Morelli kept it in fine-tune. There was also my sink that was finally working fine after the man poked his head and fiddled with it a bit and there was the matter of an extra toothbrush on my sink.
But by and large, everything else remained the same. We still did the same things we did before. We still went out for ball games, had dinners over at his or my place, traded thoughts on the latest issues of the day. After all, we weren't sex-crazed animals and we did take a breather now and then. Okay, maybe I took the breather, Morelli seemed to be a damned nonstop lean, mean sex machine. Anytime, anywhere, he was ready to take me on. Was the man on the damned pill? Not that I was complaining.
So to ensure that I had my regular supply of hot, horny Italian salami, I surpressed my protesting domestic side each time it reared its ugly head. It wasn't his fault after all - he was a good man, no doubt about that. From the beginning, Rafe Morelli had warned me that he might never share my feelings for him and I'd accepted that. A purely sexual relationship, separate from the platonic friendship that we'd shared before. It wasn't all that difficult to deny any feelings for him while I was faced with his perfect pecs and the dick of my dreams but it was a little more difficult when I was sitting alone in my office, staring out in to the dark, lonely city.
Though my choices in life might not have been the one chosen by my parents, I still valued and cherished the idea of an endearing love, the idea of commitment and the concept of a home. Tricking, wild, senseless orgies and one-night-stands had never been my style. The casual dating style of the 90s might be the dream of many a carefree, happy gay man but it certainly wasn't what I'd dreamtof. I just couldn't go around tricking with anyone I couldn't imagine having joint checking accounts and a shared house in the suburbs with IKEA furnishings. But recently, I started finding my lofty ideals suffering a little. All my sweet domestic dreams about Mr Right and a suburban two-storey home with white picket fences were dashed each time I got a look at that amazing, orgasm-inducing Morelli body and I started thinking of settling with Mr Oh-God-that's-so-Right!
And who could resist the man? Anyone who cared to walk into the Morelli Garage right now would be able to share my appreciation. No doubt he'd be wielding a spanner or whatever he used on his cars right now. Shirtless and covered in grime and hot man-sweat, he'd be fiddling under the car hood. All 6'4" inches of hot Italian male. One would be transfixed by the sight, mesmerized by the smooth, efficient movement of his hard, golden-tanned muscles, their ministrations clearly visible beneath the thick coating of black fur that covered his massive legs and arms. Sweat mized with grime would puddle in the deep valley between the hard mounds of his pecs to splash down the ripped washboard abs and ultimately trail down into the furrow of black curls that led into the waistband of his 501s. One would marvel at the prominent bulge at his jean's crotch and fantasize about its potential.
And when he turned to flash that trademark smile, one would melt. Blessed with model-good looks, sinfully dark bedroom eyes, high cheekbones, full, sensuous lips, the man was a sight. God was definitely in a very good mood on the day Morelli was born.
Shaking my head to clear that vision, I sat up and realized that I'd stained my khakis yet again. Damn. The man was starting to play havoc with my laundry bills.
There was short rap on my door and I looked up, surprised. Just two hours ago, Lina, the office secretary had left me the keys and I was the last person in the office. My parents weren't in town and they certainly wouldn't look for me here. My sister and brother weren't likely to drop by without calling first. No one in the hospital had called my pager.
My overactive imagination had me painting vicious nightmares of 12-inch blade wielding slashers and I called out with some trepidation. "Yes?"
"Doc?" It was the voice that had whispered heated obscenities into my ear just this morning. Just before the owner fucked me up the side of his kitchen cabinet.
For a moment, I frowned. I certainly hadn't planned on meeting him tonight. The man had said that he was busy with some engagement. And though he'd certainly been to my office previously, he usually called before to make certain I'd be there. "The door's open, Morelli."
The door opened and my breath caught at my throat again. Rafe Morelli was dressed up for once. A dark, expensive-looking Italian suit and tie. I didn't even know he owned one. And he looked gorgeous. That however didn't stop my hands from itching to tear the pretty package open.
The man looked nervous about something and his usual confident smile seemed patently false this time. My mind filled with dread. This was it. The final coutndown. After all our sinful, blasphemous fornication, Morelli had finally decided that he'd had enough and he was going to swing back the way his Catholic God intended. Maybe some gorgeous babe with humongous tits was already fiddling around with her lipstick in his car. Taking my seat. Damn the slut.
Despite my violent emotions, my voice was silky smooth when I answered him. "Morelli."
His lips quirked up a little and he moved forward to rest that cute ass on the front of my desk. Lucky desk! "Hey, Doc. Working late tonight, huh."
Leaning back on my seat, I steepled my fingers and tried not to show the nerves that I felt. "Yeah. How did you know that I'd still be here?"
"I called Mrs Steele."
"Lina? Aren't you supposed to be at your thing..." Although I'd had my brains muddled by his hot pheromones, I could still distinctly remember him mentioning something about a special evening that he'd had to attend. Of course this morning, I'd been too turned on to fully listen to his lengthy explanation - and too pissed off at the thought that he'd probably invited some leggy blonde to the 'thing'. Which was why I'd left that hickey at the left side of his throat. Marking my possession.
As I was pondering over this sudden need to brand Morelli with my mark of ownership, the man in question waved his hand in front of my eyes. "Hey, lost you for a moment again."
"Just thinking. Aren't you supposed to be at your whatever thing?"
"I am." Peering up at me through those sinfully thick lashes, he looked almost shy for once. "You weren't listening this morning. You are my special engagement."
"M-Me?" Was that my voice croaking?
That confident smile came back full force and he turned that charm on me. "Yeah. You."
"What's the occasion?" I asked, gesturing to his suit. Did I miss something? Some weird joke of his?
"Come and you'll find out."
The offer was definitely up my street. Swamped with work, I hadn't even taken dinner yet and we'd certainly gone on dinners together before. But the man sure never put on a coat before. Casual as he was, he usually preferred his regular T-shirt and jeans. Me, I preferred him wearing nothing but then again, that's my preference and I'm a dedicated perv. "I think I gotta change first though."
Gesturing to my suit and tie, Rafe shrugged. "I don't know but I think you look fine."
His sincere praise didn't amuse me especially since he was the cause of my embarassing predicament. Keeping silent, I stood up in my stained pants.
His smile widened. "Thinking of me, Doc?"
I grinned back. "You keep on wishing, Morelli."
"I am."
"We could skip that dinner, order in and..." I waggled my eyebrows.
His dark eyes flashed. "In here?"
"Yeah."
"I do have reservations at 8."
A glance up at the clock confirmed the time and I gave a careless shrug. "We still have half an hour to make it."
"Half hour?" he gave me a teasing look, his dark eyes dancing.
Leaning forward on the table, I dared him. "Think you could handle it?"
His smile turned wolfish.
It was amazing how he could go back to that immaculate state. Every crease and button was back in place, his jet black hair ruthlessly swept back to the smooth, suave style he'd adopted earlier. A dark tendril stubbornly refused to stay in place and curled down his forehead. Looking at him right now, one wouldn't even suspect that Rafe Morelli had just knocked me up in my office barely twenty minutes ago.
Adjusting my tie with the help of the side mirror, I tried to make myself look presentable. And not like a man who'd thoroughly enjoyed a quickie before dinner. "God, I look a mess!"
Coming over to my side of the car, he pressed the car lock on his keys and moved over to where I was standing. Seeing me preening in front of his car, he smiled. "You look wonderful, Jake."
Pleased with his compliment, I stared at my reflection and had to agree. While I certainly wouldn't stop traffic like Morelli had done a week ago when he'd strolled that cute ass down the street, I had my own charm and I was attractive in my own way. Dark hair, green eyes, nice bod, I was a pretty good deal. But as I was still a contrary man, I had to make a token complaint. "I look like I've been well fucked up, thank you very much. And you brought me to - to.."
Aiming my gaze at the sign, I goggled at the restaurant he'd brought me to. The place he'd brought me was an extremely well-known restaurant that I'd been wanting to visit for months but hadn't for some obscure reason or other. Not only was it well-known for its incredible menu, impeccable service and reasonable prices, it was also known for being an immensely popular gay watering hole. "Are you sure you want to eat here? The fag area?"
Looking as nonchalant as any straight man in the gay district could look, he turned to face the restaurant and thrust his big hands into his pockets. "Yeah, I heard that it's great."
Heard? I didn't even know that Rafe Morelli knew the existence of the gay district. Not to mention one of the best joints in the district. Had he been secretly reading my Gay Times? "People would guess."
His broad shoulders rose and fell in a lazy shrug. "So?"
His lack of expression surprised me. "Hey, your reputation as a straight stud might be jeopardized. What if you swing back that way?" I tried to smile but I could almost hear the slight bitterness in my tone even as I tried to hide it.
He turned to me, his look enigmatic. "I like the way it's swinging right now, thank you very much."
"Yeah, until the next leggy redhead with big gams comes along."
"I think I've had enough of Sharon and the like."
"That's what they all say." I gave him a quick nudge to show that I was kidding and he smiled back.
Don't tell anyone but dinner was just terrible. It wasn't the fault of the establishment. The food was as wonderful as I'd heard. The service was incredible. The handsome young waiters looked heavenly in their tight suits and were just as helpful as could be. Yes, sir. No, sir. Would you like a bite of me, sir? They were great.
They weren't the problem. It was the patrons, both men and women. Throughout our sumptuous dinner, the other patrons seemed to be having trouble keeping their hungry eyes on the main course on their plates. Rather they were eyeing the steamy Italian dish seated at my table and imagining him slathered liberally in chocolate sauce. The damn bastards.
Digging in with relish into his meal, Rafe seemed almost oblivious to the attention he was getting. As in everything he did, he ate with lots of enthusiasm and I'd have smiled if I wasn't glaring at the other diners. "This is great. I can't believe I never came here before!"
"Doc." Lifting another bite with his fork, he paused, noticing my stony expression and looked at me questioningly. "You're not eating. Something wrong?"
"Are you blind?" Since I'd known him, I'd always been plainspoken and more than ready to speak my mind. Eventhough I was supposed to put on a good impression so that he'd stay and fuck me, I didn't see why I should stop this habit of mine. "Eating is a chore when the other diners are thinking of spreading you on a cracker and having a feast."
He choked on his ravioli. "What?"
"You know what I mean, Morelli."
My disgruntled expression had him grinning. "I do know. Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."
"You are?" God, this is the first time I've heard of it. Though I couldn't say I was surprised. With his dark good looks, Morelli must have been hit on every day of his life. My face burned at the thought that I'd done pretty much the same.
"I'm not that stupid, Doc." Putting his utensils down, he reached over and squeezed my hand. "Look, I don't see it myself but I know most people think I'm a good-looking fella. It's just my face, I certainly didn't earn it. But people seem to like it."
Looking over at him across the table, I frowned. "You don't feel uncomfortable that people are thinking of having you over as the dessert?"
"Why?" His dark eyes twinkled as he tilted his head to wink at me. "You sure that's not what you're thinking too?"
The red flush crept up my neck. "Yeah, I am."
"Don't worry. You're the only one feasting on the Morelli plate tonight, Jake." The twinkle in his eye turned into something more and I reacted in response to it.
His answers made sense and I had to agree. "It's just.."
"Jealous, Doc?" he grinned teasingly at me.
This was getting into dangerous territory. Being jealous would mean having some sort of feelings. Some sort of commitment. Would revealing my secrets send the man screaming madly into the night? Would that mean not finishing the new stash of condoms I had in my room?
My silence made him worried and his smile faded. "Look, Doc, I-"
Getting all touchy-feely over dinner wasn't my idea of fun and I reassured him. "Don't worry about it, Morelli. I am not saying anything or putting pressure.. I just.."
"No." For once, he didn't smile back good-naturedly at me. Instead, his lips turned down in a scowl. "Look, I want you to put pressure on me. I want you to be so green with jealousy you'd want to knock out all the guys here."
If he'd told me that he'd taken a fucking vow of celibacy and joined the priesthood, I'd have been less shocked. As it was, I reeled from the shock and gaped at him, nearly speechless. "W-What?"
Seeing that he'd surprised me, Rafe made an attempt to explain. "Look, I saw you with that blond guy two nights ago."
Blond guy? Stunned, I racked my mind as I tried to recall who the hell he was talking about. "Where?"
"That cafe at the hospital," he said softly, keeping his gaze down as he slowly drummed his fingers on the table. "I'd gone over there to ask you out for dinner."
It came to me in a flash. Dr Brian Mooney. Blond, adorable and with shoulders the size of a linebacker. A hunk but nothing compared to Rafe. "It was nothing. Just a colleague at work."
Pulling his gaze up to meet mine, his dark eyes flashed. "You were touching him. I didn't like it."
The anger in his eyes stunned me yet again. Wow, I'd heard of stories of Morelli's temper but till now, I'd never seen it in real-life action before. Truth to tell, it excited me like hell. "Nothing was happening."
"I still didn't like it. I wanted to smash his face." The way he put it left me in no doubt that he'd have done it. The clenched ham-sized fists proved the point.
"As I said, i-it was nothing." Ordinarily, any display of machismo and senseless violence totally put me off but coming from him, it just got me extra hot! Good grief, I was acting like some love-sick, brainless ninny. Even the quick flex of his big bicep had me s-s-s-stuttering. Muttering absent-mindedly to myself, I picked up the napkin to wipe at the sweat suddenly beading my forehead. "What do you want, Morelli?"
"A month ago, I asked you for time and I'm glad you've been so patient with me." His hand crept across the table and caught mine in his strong grasp. "Look, my parents have been together for 40 years. They celebrated their fortieth anniversary two weeks ago. I've always wanted that for myself."
I knew it. Though I'd hoped for the better, I should have known. Tired of living the alternative lifestyle, he was swinging back to the straight and narrow. No more straying off the yellow brick road for Mr Hetero Stud Morelli. Smiling as pleasantly as I could despite the urge to put my fist through the table, I pulled my hand back. "Hey, don't worry about it. I understand."
He looked perplexed, his thick dark brows coming together. "What?"
"You're gonna tell me I'm straight. You've got enough of the alternative life and you want to get back to the straight and narrow." It was the best I could come up with since I'd pretty much run out of clever things to say. All I could think of was my settee at home and a place to set my broken heart.
"You're wrong, Doc."
Searching for various excuses to leave with my dignity intact, I stopped and stared at him. "I am?"
My hands were still on the table and he pulled them back into his powerful hands. This time though I tried to pull back again, he held on tight. "Yeah, so wrong you're so way out there. You see I want to have what my parents had.. with you."
Again, the man surprised me. Seemed like I was in for a day for surprises. Rafe Morelli might as well have taken a ten foot concrete beam and knocked me out for a loop. In the short time it took for me to recover, my domestic side was already picking up the pieces of my broken heart and setting it back together.
Worried that I'd make a run for it, Rafe hurried on before I could stop him. His handsome face - and that marvellous jaw - was stubbornly set and it was clear that he would finish what he set out to do. "Look, I now I don't have that much to offer.. I'm not that smart and I don't have a string of degrees like you. But I have a steady job, I'm healthy, I've got good hands and I make good money.. I don't drink or smoke. And..."
"Don't say anymore, Morelli.." I said softly. If he said anymore, I just might start bawling my heart out. Or throw him on the table for a satisfying fuck. Either way, it was probably not in my best interests.
One of his big hands pressed gently on my lips, hushing me. "No, let me finish. And .. and I think I am beginning to love you." The last bit was said haltingly but with such sincerity that my heart stuttered. Evidently finished, he leaned back on his chair and looked at me. Big, melted chocolate eyes pleaded longingly.
"I see." Choked by his simple words, I had to clear my throat before I could continue. Was that a tickle in my throat? Sexy Italian idiot. "Was that some kinda half-assed proposal, Morelli?"
"Umm.. yeah?" For a man who looked hot enough to melt, he looked nervous as hell and I loved him all the more for it.
Leaning over, I planted a quick kiss on his lips. "You only needed that last part for me to say yes."
He smiled. "Yeah?"
"Why didn't you say something earlier?" I remarked curiously.
My question got a careless shrug from him. "How could I? I thought you were enjoying yourself too much. That you liked having a dumb, gorgeous boytoy with no strings attached at your side. A trophy husband of sorts." Taking a sip of wine to quench himself after that earlier speech of his, he licked his lips. "With all the sex, I was starting to get worried that your domestic side had been put to sleep forever. You certainly never mentioned anything."
"Rafe."
The barely suppressed anger in my voice surprised him and he looked at me, his dark eyes widened. "Jake?"
"This is the first and last time I'm gonna say this," I gritted out slowly. "You're not dumb at all and if you say that about the man I love again, I'll belt you."
"You love me?" he asked hopefully, his dark eyes lighting up.
"What do you think, Morelli?"
"Well.." The devil-smile returned to his eyes. "I think someone's getting lucky tonight."
"Oh, I think luck's definitely going my way this time."