A Daddy for Alexi by Joe Satoria

6. WARREN

Alexi was an enigma of nervous energy, and I felt for him. I truly did. I wanted to hold him close and squeeze him in my arms. It was the only thing I’d been thinking about since I saw him with his head back against the wall in the hallway.

He looked flustered, the same way he looked whenever I asked him to speak about himself. He did, in little bits, here and there. Most of it was me talking at him. He was a great listener; nodding and playing with the whipped cream in his cup.

He also didn’t look comfortable at his desk in the office. Not that I was spying, but I was curious, and I wanted to know all I could about him and his cute, oversized clothing.

I’d been complimenting him, watching him blush. He must have known I was gay, I assumed as much from him. The nail polish, the way he held himself, and I saw the tinted lip moisturiser. But there wasn’t much I could find online for him, the elusive Alexi Drake.

Perhaps meeting at my place might have pull him out of his shell, and that was my thinking. I wanted him to come over; I wanted to get him comfortable, the way I saw him ease around me. I felt like a protective bear, and not only because I hadn’t shaved my chest since I was twenty-three, but also because he made me feel that way.

My phone dinged with the Uber notification. He’d arrived.

My flat wasn’t large, it was the seventh floor of complex near the centre of the city. It was expensive, but I was paid well for my position at the company. I’d only moved in about four months ago.

The living room, kitchen, and dining room were all sprawled into one. The bedroom was large, with a double bed and a small walk-in closet, as well as an en-suite bathroom. The place had just been renovated before I moved in.

I had my own nervous feelings, and perhaps he genuinely thought this was going to be games and films while we spoke to each other. I didn’t mind that idea, but I needed some form of intimacy soon or I might be resigned to the act of backbreaking autofellatio. I couldn’t suck my own dick—I’d tried.

In the lifetime it took since the notification to the knock at the door, I’d looked at myself in the mirror no more than ten times.

I hadn’t shaved, and I wore a Ghibli t-shirt; it was old, and there was a stain at the bottom of it. I knew it’s what he liked, so I wanted him to at least be enthusiastic about being here. I also wore a pair of black jeans with rips on the knees. They were casual enough but not too casual that I seemed ready to slip out and straight into bed.

Alexi stood in the doorway, his hair pulled back with a hair tie, leaving two strands of hair down the sides of his cheeks. He clutched his small backpack. He was—different.

In the light of the hallway, I caught the glisten of his lips and a flushed pink to his cheeks glowing. He smiled, without prompt or joke. He was smiling. Perhaps it was the t-shirt.

“Welcome,” I said, opening the door wider as I expressed an arm for him inside. “This is where I live, alone.” I added, I’m sure he got the message.

As he passed me into the flat, he smelled like mint. It was delicious. I wondered if he was chewing gum, and whether he’d be willing to share—from his mouth.

“I like your t-shirt,” he said, his head tilted up, looking around.

“Take a seat, take a seat,” I said, hurrying ahead of him to present the large open room. “So, I was thinking, we could order food, play games, watch films. You know, talk about something that’s not work related.”

He nodded back. “It’s nice.” He clutched at his bag a little closer to the bear’s face on his sweater.

“I have all the games, and I am willing to play whatever you like, and please, make yourself comfortable.”

He sat on the leather chair; it was deceptively soft. The moment he sat on it, he started to sink into the cushion. A wide smile on his face. “Oh wow.”

“It’s so comfy,” I said. “Do you want a drink?”

Alexi had wide eyes. He giggled, patting at the sofa. In the short amount of time I’d known him, he didn’t smile like this.

Opening the fridge, I looked at the contents. I’d just been shopping yesterday, so it was stocked. “I have wine, fruit cider, of course, Fizz-branded drinks, they make great mixers for rum or vodka.”

“Um, can I just—” the smile vanished. Oh no. He probably didn’t drink.

“Water, cordial, fruit juice too,” I continued, like I’d meant to.

“I’ll take a water,” he said. “Thank you. I should really have a glass of wine. I get really nervous.”

“No pressure,” I said.

“You can have wine, I’ll probably have one when I’m—” he paused, he did that a lot. I didn’t mind it. I found it quite sweet, like he was second guessing himself. His head turned to me, smiling.

“If there’s anything I can do to make you feel less nervous, let me know.”

I poured myself a small glass of white wine and I poured a glass of water for him. Setting them both on the coffee table.

Beside Alexi as I sat, this was the closest, physically that we’d been. His adorable smile, his wide eyes, he was looking at the TV on the wall. It was already on one of the streaming services, their logo ping-ponging back and forth across the screen.

“You seem so innocent,” I said. “I hate to think of you listening to complaints and suggestions all day. But I don’t want to talk about work. So, there are two options. I can make you whatever food you like, from scratch, because I have taken cooking classes in nearly every cuisine. Or we can order out.”

What started out with a smile turned to confusion, possibly over the complication of what I was asking and all the choices I brought up. He was overwhelmed.

“If I say pizza, what do you say?” I asked, perhaps easier.

“Pepperoni,” he answered, the smile returning. “And do you have ice cream?”

“Absolutely. I’d be a monster not to have ice cream,” I chuckled back. “I like this.” I reached out to rub my thumb at the sweater. He didn’t flinch.

“Thank you, it’s really warm.”

“If you get too warm, you can take it off,” I said, “I mean, as long as you feel comfortable. You have a t-shirt on, right?” I asked. “But it’s fine if you don’t, the flat gets hot, and I mostly walk around without a t-shirt on, anyway.” My hand immediately at the bottom of my t-shirt, ready to yank it over my head.

Alexi immediately grabbed at my hand to stop me. He chuckled. “I have a t-shirt on,” he said, “if I get warm, I’ll take it off.” He pulled his hand away, his shoulder hunching as he shrank inside it.

“I was thinking of taking this off anyway, it’s got a stain,” I said, “I just put it on because it’s Studio Ghibli. It’s a super old t-shirt as well.” I pulled at the end of the t-shirt, stretching it out slightly, the neck of it stretching out to reveal a patch of my chest hair through it.

“Hairy,” he said.

“It makes my chest look bigger,” I said, puffing out and flexing my pecs a little.

There was excitement in his eyes at the action. He liked that.

“I haven’t ever grown chest hair, well, I do go over it with a razor in the shower, so maybe it’s that,” he chuckled. It was the first time he looked comfortable to share something openly without being asked..

“I don’t see you wearing tight clothes, so you probably don’t need it to buff out your chest,” I said.

He grabbed at the ends of the sweater, tugging it up. He moved to tug at the sleeves, removing it from over his head. As he removed the sweater, my eyes occupied his body. He was in a pair of dungarees with a rainbow crop top. He was slim with a beige contrasting lace sitting on his hipbone, travelling down one side of the muscle.

“Wow,” I mustered. “Do you—do you like to dress up?”

Pulling the rest of the sweater overhead, his gaze met mine and travelled to the underwear.. “I—um—it’s—”

“It looks nice.”

“Sorry, I think I misread this,” he said, clutching his sweater into a ball against his chest. “I just—I thought—I—I thought you were—you were flirting.”

I was. I had been. He was panicking.

With a hand, I placed it behind his neck, my grasp in control.

Turning his head to mine. I kissed him.

His lips were soft.

He smelled like delicate mint leaf.

I wanted to consume him.