Burn this City by Aleksandr Voinov
28
Maybe the most surprising part of the whole thing was how little Sal had felt the need to set the pace or call the shots, though at some point it had been clear that Jack had no idea what he was doing. Still, his inexperienced exploration was enough to light Sal on fire and make the lingering erection damn near unbearable.
He hadn’t expected Jack to join him in the shower—it wasn’t Enzo’s style (though he’d come if called), but at the same time, Sal hadn’t thought even once that the man joining him was anybody else but Jack. Which seemed meaningful, especially after the exchange in the kitchen.
“Is that the only reason you can give me to keep you alive, Jack?”
Strangely, he didn’t think Barsanti had done this to give Sal a reason. Not with how much value the man put on his dignity. Holding him here, clearly shell-shocked from an intense orgasm, Jack wasn’t dignified in the least. Nobody on the outside would ever understand what had happened, but Sal did got the feeling this was the first time Jack had willingly and consciously given up control. And what a lover could he become if given time and opportunity … he was attentive, gentle, eager to please and willing to be swept off his feet. Seemingly, Jack had nothing to prove sexually, wasn’t playing dominance games and didn’t hold back either. All things that Sal liked.
He gently moved away and pulled down Jack’s trousers and boxers all the way. Jack lifted first one foot, then the other to step out of them, and Sal pulled off his socks as well before he opened the door to toss the sopping wet clothes into the nearby Jacuzzi. Then he kissed Jack’s throat. “Ready?”
“Maybe.” Jack looked at him still with that wonder and even awe in his eyes that made Sal’s heart ache. That same expression told Sal that nobody had made Jack feel this way before, and what a crying shame that was. A guy like Jack deserved a whole lot more than a couple semi-rushed handjobs.
At the same time, Sal was grateful Jack had come to him like this. He’d normally have jerked off quickly under the shower, which was the original plan, because the arousal was messing with his head and emotions too much to simply ignore it. Enzo would have been up for taking care of it, but Sal didn’t want to have both of them distracted while Jack was rapidly recovering his mind.
Not that it had done him any good when it came to getting rid of the sheer attraction. Instead, it had added depth underneath and layers on top of it.
Sal ran his hand over Jack’s back and made himself avoid the man’s ass, because he could quite easily build up enough arousal to want much more than had already happened. He’d end up dragging Jack into the master bedroom and taking him every way he knew, and he could easily lose the night doing that.
Because that was another signal; when he contemplated letting the other man fuck him. He didn’t have any particular hang-ups about bottoming—there were quite a few bi and bi-curious husbands out there who had no idea that one of their claims to fame was that they’d fucked an incognito Mafia boss up the ass. It was a thing Sal did when he was in the right mood. Other guys he’d slept with considered him an exclusive top, because that was the kind of chemistry he had with them. Somehow, he’d contemplated for a few moments how it would feel to have Jack’s cock push between his ass cheeks, either to fuck between them until Jack came all over his back, or change the angle and push inside him, or try to, at least.
And he’d liked the idea enough that it had surprised him. Maybe it was because he truly enjoyed Jack gaining confidence when it came to sex, maybe it was because he was experienced enough that a virgin’s unskilled love-making couldn’t possibly hurt him. He could get off easily on how much his partner enjoyed themselves, even if it took Sal a while to get into it too.
He felt Jack’s fingers touch the bar in one of his nipples. “Did that hurt?”
“Hurt is the wrong word.” Sal brushed wet hair from Jack’s forehead. “I’m definitely too kinky for something as simple as hurt.” He touched his head to Jack’s, but avoided the area where his scalp was cut. “That’s just how I’m wired.”
And then Jack’s fingers touched the chain around Sal’s neck, and Sal felt the metallic slide of the ring against the chain. It was done reverently, and didn’t feel painful—if anything, Catia would have agreed with Sal that Jack was hot and would have welcomed him in their house. If not for some unfortunate associations.
“Let me find out who’s responsible. Even if it doesn’t make a difference.”
“Why?”
“Because now I want to know.” That response destroyed the very last remains of any suspicion that Jack might have been involved. It sounded completely honest and was even tinged with a kind of outrage.
“And if it’s Andrea?”
“Why are you asking?”
“He’s your boss.”
“If he could see me like this, he’d shoot me himself. He’s … he already thinks I’m not quite right. That he might not be able to … trust me with his kids.”
Sal turned his head to look at Jack’s face. “I call that too stupid to live.”
Jack chuckled and kissed the place right above Sal’s collarbone. “I think I’m good now.” He reached out and shut down the water, then slid from Sal’s arms and left the shower. He walked barefooted across the plastic sheets and grabbed one large fluffy bathrobe and offered it to Sal, but Sal shook his head, took it and wrapped Jack in it instead, which seemed to genuinely surprise him, but it added a puzzle piece to the overall picture.
“You like to serve, don’t you?”
Jack froze, as if caught. “I guess?”
Sal dried him with the bathrobe and enjoyed tying the belt in a loop that could easily be pulled open. Now, that would make sense. Unlike Enzo, Jack didn’t feel like a sub; that tendency to please was different, but he’d pushed for that handjob on the couch while giving himself over to the sensation. In a twisted way, he had to get something out of serving Andrea, who apparently was a bigoted asshole even to the one man he had to unconditionally trust. There were other dimensions to it, and they were somewhat obfuscated by Jack’s sheer inexperience.
“Nothing wrong with that. I like to serve others too.” Sal reached for the large towel he’d spotted earlier and began drying himself off. “During sex. I get off when my partner gets off.”
“Or you don’t … not when …” Jack gestured in the general direction of the living room.
“I’m no longer sixteen.” Sal grinned at him. “I also like delayed gratification and the build-up. I like fucking people’s minds as much as their bodies, but if I can do both …” He nodded slowly. “I’ll do both.”
“That’s a fact,” Jack said, and smiled, shaking his head, but he sobered visibly. “I still don’t have an answer for you.”
“Yeah, about that.” Sal set about dressing himself, while Jack stood there in his bathrobe and watched him. The decision was both hard and too easy—and he full well knew that while Jack might be open and honest with him right now, the man might regroup and convince himself of the exact opposite of what he professed now.
There was too much at stake for him to be resolved with two orgasms. Sal knew he could turn a lover inside out if he found the right buttons to press, and while Jack might be overwhelmed right now by everything that had happened during the past thirty or so hours, he was old enough to be set in his ways. He could easily return to old patterns.
Sal slipped on his boots and straightened. “Don’t get on my wrong side, Jack. You didn’t like being there, you won’t like it if you get back there, all right?”
Jack swallowed visibly. “You’re considering letting me go?”
“Looks like it.” Sal drew a deep breath and studied the man’s face. “I have to make calls, get ready. If you’re smart, you stay at home and wait until it’s over. But if not, I’ll tell my guys to not hurt you. That’s void if you raise your hand against any of them, understand?”
“I do.” Jack’s shoulders dropped first and then he sank down onto the rim of the Jacuzzi, but the tension around his eyes softened.
Sal pulled himself together. He couldn’t linger anymore, because otherwise he’d stay for the rest of the evening, and then the night, and after that, the cards would be reshuffled. “Got a burner phone?”
“In the car.”
“Great.” Sal gave him his number. “Remember that, if you need help.” He didn’t want to leave, but he took a couple backward steps.
“Sal?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
Sal’s heart clenched; one of those things Catia would say, sometimes in jest, when he was pushing too far, sometimes deadly serious. Jack now sat there, deflated, or so relieved he couldn’t think clearly. “Same. If this doesn’t go as expected, you need to get out—leave the city, definitely get the fuck away from Andrea, hear me?”
“I will.”
And Sal believed him. He managed to turn around and strode back into the kitchen, where Enzo offered him a cup with very strong espresso.
“You good?” Enzo asked.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”