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We sat down to eat about twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop staring at Abel. He’s so precise with how he eats. Not dainty per se, but fastidious. He doesn’t flail his hands about when he talks with his fork in his hand. He sets it down, then speaks. And it’s not something he’s doing for my benefit. It seems like second nature. He always wipes his mouth after every bite, even if he doesn’t make a mess. He clears his mouth of food completely before he takes a sip of wine or before he speaks. It’s interesting. Very particular. And I can’t stop watching.
His face is free of makeup tonight and he’s just as beautiful as always. Radiant and warm, his beautiful honey brown, flawless skin gleaming in the moderately lit room.
Clearing his throat, Abel sets his fork down and looks at me. “So, tell me about yourself, Joseph,” he says nonchalantly. I jolt a bit, not used to anyone calling me that. He sees it, then lowers his eyes. “I’m sorry. Do you not like your name?”
“No, I don’t. I hate it, actually,” I tell him, much to my surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever said that aloud before. He gazes at me with a questioning look in his eyes. I sigh, then wipe my mouth with my napkin. I wish I had done it earlier, because it comes away with all kinds of sauce and noodle bits. He must be disgusted with me, watching me eat like a beast. But to his credit, he doesn’t mention it. He might be too sweet for words when you get past the tough, feisty wall he puts up. Maybe that means I’m over the wall.
I answer his unspoken question. “I’m a ‘third,’ as you know.” He nods and puts his forearms on the table, leaning towards me a bit. “My father and grandfather had certain expectations of me. Being gay wasn’t one of them. I hate being associated with that name because it means disappointment. It reminds me of the shame I know they felt. That’s why I’m Savage. I had to be tough, so no one questioned me if I had a man on my arm. I had to be harder and more brutal than everyone else so I can enjoy a man’s mouth around my dick.” I don’t miss how Abel’s eyes heat when I say that. Blinking and shaking my head, I continue speaking before I put him on his knees under the table. “Savage is who I became, who I am. I’ve never been Joseph.” I finish and sit back in my chair, trying not to let the past overwhelm me.
Coming out to my father was quick but didn’t go over well. He kept telling me to keep it a secret and date women publicly, even marry one, so it could seem like I was “normal.” His reaction made me realize he would never accept me, even if I had a wife and kids. So, I never kept the men I dated a secret. Rumors started and people tried me. Those people are no longer alive, so the nonsense died down as quickly as it started.
Abel looks impossibly sad, like my story hurts him. I hope not. It’s in the past and I’m doing okay. I can fuck who I want, when I want, and no one questions me. I know it doesn’t make me weak like my father and grandfather would have had me believe. I’ve had years to come to terms with it. No one bothers me besides those fucking Russians. People have fucked around and found out that me liking dick doesn’t mean I’m soft. Savage is what I’ve had to be to avoid a bullet to the brain. So no, I’m not Joseph.
He smiles over at me, though the sadness isn’t gone from his eyes. “So, I can keep calling you Sav? I like that better than Joe.”
I smile at him, and his eyes widen. Guess this is the first time he’s gotten an actual smile from me. This wide smile feels weird on my face, but Abel can bring them out of me and I like that he can. “Yes. I like when you call me that.”
“Yeah?” he asks, smile getting wider and reaching his eyes. “Good. I like saying it.” He reaches for his wineglass and sips the last bit. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the evening? The night is still young.”
While I have an idea, I’m not sure if it’s something that he’ll like. There’s so much I don’t know about him. So much I want to know. But he’s smart and looks like he would be interested in my secret happy place, so I decide to show it to him. It’s a place that keeps me calm, just by smelling the air. “I want to show you something. Then we can maybe sit and talk?”
“I’d like that, Sav.”
I take our plates to the kitchen, rinse them, and put them in the dishwasher. Janet will probably complain, but she’s gone home for the day. The least I can do is clean up after us.
When I’m done, I walk back into the dining room and see Abel standing behind his chair. Before I can think, I grab his hand and pull him behind me. I don’t miss the small squeak that leaves his mouth when I envelop his hand in mine. His hand is so tiny. He’s tiny, so I guess it’s to be expected. His palm is warm in mine, and I like how it feels, him touching me.
I’m not sure hewantsto touch me, and I feel kind of bad for just grabbing him. I let my hand go slack, but he tightens his hand in mine, gripping me. He smiles up at me when I look down at him. Maybe Quin is right. Maybe I can show him who I am and he’ll like me. I want that more than anything.
When we climb the stairs, I turn him down the east wing, the opposite direction from where we sleep. I walk us to the end of the hallway and hesitate for a second. “Is it a secret room?” Abel whispers. When I glance down at him, his eyes are dancing with excitement.
Shaking my head, I give him a small smile, but don’t answer. I just push open the door and click the light on. I step to the side and take a deep inhale, loving the smell of books. Abel walks slowly into the library I had built. I haven’t read all the books here, but I’ve read a lot. The big, comfortable chair that I have in the middle of the floor is my favorite part. I don’t like to take my books out of here, so when I get the chance, I lie in here for a few hours to unwind, reading to take my mind off the bullshit going on in my life.
Turning in a slow circle, Abel lets out a small laugh. “Sav, this is fantastic! It’s lovely. God, how do you have so many books?” I’m sure that question is rhetorical, so I keep quiet. He walks around and looks at the shelves, a smile affixed to his face.
I watch him walk around, my chest feeling warm at the sight of him surrounded by books. Every so often, he takes one from the shelf and reads the back blurb. I notice he puts some back with the pages facing out instead of the spine. He blushes when I give him a quizzical look. “I want to come back and read those, if I can.”
“You can. This room is yours to use as much as you want.”
His hug takes me by surprise. He wraps his arms around me and lays his head on my chest. “Thank you, Sav. I’ll use it often.”
Awkwardly, I pat his back. I really need to get better at this. I clear my throat and say, “Come on. Let’s get some coffee and talk. If you want,” I quickly tack on.
“I want. Lead the way, Mr. Benavelli.”
We sit in the kitchen, drink coffee, and talk for a few hours. Abel is an interesting man. He’s as nice as everyone says he is. And he’s funny too, with more of a dry humor I enjoy. I let loose a few laughs when he tells me stories of him at school with the friends he’s met here.
He doesn’t talk much about his childhood, even though I ask. He merely smiles at me and changes the subject. I don’t pry because I don’t like to talk sometimes, too. Hopefully, he’ll trust me enough one day to open up to me. I wouldn’t mind being more open with him.
After he rinses our mugs, Abel looks at me with that same smile that’s been on his face all evening. He’s so gorgeous, inside and out. Talking to him has been the most fun I’ve had in years. He’s charming and funny. He’s soft, but not in a way that it can be confused as weak. I love that about him. He would give me the room to be the man I want to be but would make sure I knew he could handle himself. He’s tough. And I become increasingly attracted to him the longer he’s here.
Turning away from the sink, he says, “Sav, this has been the best date I’ve ever been on.”
“This was a date?” I’m not sure I would classify it as such. All we did was eat dinner at home and I showed him my library.
He swats my arm. “Of course, it was.” Then he gently pushes me back until my back is against the refrigerator. “But I think I need dessert.” With no more words, Abel drops to his knees, pulls my pants down, and frees my erection. In his usual style, he doesn’t tease me—he just takes my cockhead into his mouth and draws the rest of me in with greedy pulls.
“Fuck, yes,” I grunt out, putting one hand under his chin and the other on the back of his head. I plunge into his mouth, pulling his head down on me. Abel moans around my cock and holds on to my thighs, keeping his balance while I fuck his open throat. “You suck my cock so well. I love being in your mouth,” I groan, swiveling my hips into him. “You love having me in your mouth? Making me fuck your hot throat?” Abel nods against me, still moaning around my dick, making the vibrations shoot up to my balls. “I know you do. You’re the best cock slut I’ve ever had. God, Abel.”
