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But I have something none of them have: his hate. This rivalry. This thing that glows between us whenever we dance in each other’s proximity.
He’s afraid. Afraid to care about anyone that way. Afraid to fall for anyone too hard. He chooses his lovers based purely on how unlikely it is that he’ll ever be able to have anything real with them.
He can hate me all he wants. I’ll fuck him however he wants. Then, when his defences are low and he’s grown complacent, I’ll get him to fall in love with me.
Having seen him naked with his hole stretched open and filled with me,
“We have named it ‘Song of The Iliad’ and it will centre around the much-rumoured love between Achilles and Patroclus.”
“It will be the first queer ballet to be performed at any of the Big Five. A love story set to original music.
You know, people say Achilles and Patroclus were soulmates too.” Some complex look moves over his face. “We’re not fucking soulmates!” I put my hand over my chest. “Ouch.”
“Oh, Savini, you’re all kinds of an asshole, I assure you.” I grin, wolfishly. “Speaking of… I haven’t stopped thinking about yours. When will you let me inside it again?”
I get to rehearse with him one-on-one; hours and days and weeks in the rehearsal room together where I’m going to make it impossible for him to resist me.
The less selfish part of myself is excited for him. Felix is the most famous gay ballerino in the world, and without a doubt, this is going to be the defining role of his career. I want him to shine, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he does.
This is Felix’s moment and, unbelievably, I get to be right beside him for it.
And when this is over and the world finally sees him for what he is—the best—I can do what I’ve always been too fucking scared to do. Stop.
“Are you mourning the fact that you’ve no balls right now?” “I’m always mourning that; my life would be so much easier.”
I saw him yesterday, for Christ’s sake. He can’t have my tight boy pussy every bloody night.” She smiles but then realises what I’ve said and screws her face up. “Do not ever say those three words again in my presence.” “For Christ’s sake?”
“So, what’s it like then? His cock.” “Excuse me?” “You’ve seen it in the showers, I presume? How is it? Disappointing? Please tell me it is.” Thick. Perfect. Tastes incredible. “Average.”
Have I always been attracted to him? Is he—fucking hell—the reason I like men? Was it some formative epiphany I had as I watched him dance all those years ago? What if, deep down in my subconscious, that’s the reason I hate him? Because he made me realise I was gay?
And then, because I’m not ashamed enough, I moan his name like a little whore.
I resolve that letting him fuck me one more time is hardly going to end the world as we know it.
“I had an appointment with my therapist.” This, I can tell, surprises him. A brief flicker of shock moves over his eyes. Then he says, “I knew you were fucked up in the head.” “Oh, you’ve no idea, princess.”
“That’s going to get boring really bloody quick, you know? Reminding me of things I’m not in the slightest bit embarrassed about. I like being fucked. I like taking cock. And I will beg for it in the moment, yes.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t mean you’re special. Ask anyone I’ve slept with; it’s who I am in bed.”
He stares at me a moment before he understands I’m being very unserious.
“This is a means to an end. I’m not having dinner with you.” I point at his bowl. “Dinner.” And then at myself. “Me. Sorry, princess, but you’re very much having dinner with me.”
Ground rule two: never on LBC premises. I mean, that’s just common sense.”
I have a feeling this rule will be broken and often
“What if I asked you not to fuck anyone else while we’re in the… situation. Would that be something you’d consider?” What? “No. Of course, I wouldn’t consider that. This isn’t... No.” The fuck?
There’s an odd look on his face as he starts to undress, like he’s turned on but is confused or angry about it.
I turn onto my back with my head angled off. “Fuck my throat,” I say, opening my mouth as wide as I can. He stares down at me for a few long moments, indecisive, before he moves around the bed and climbs on. Reaching out for my hand, he pulls me up towards the top of the bed and into his arms. Then he’s kissing me.
I’ve never been kissed like this. This isn’t kissing with the intent to go somewhere else, though I fucking hope it does, this is kissing for the sole purpose of kissing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says then. His voice sounds raw from kissing, and when he pulls back to look me in the eye, they’re almost black from desire. “I love this mouth.”
“How do I feel?” I ask him for some stupid reason. “Perfect.” He meets my eye when he says this. “You’re fucking perfect, Felix.”
I can’t believe how good it feels, how good he feels; I’ve never had sex like this, and I’ve had a lot of sex. I’m scared to even consider what it is that makes it feel this good because I suspect it’s something to do with Nico, and I’m not ready to go there yet.
I bite so hard on my lip to stop myself screaming his name that I taste blood.
He likes this cock warming thing.
Same
“I find it amusing that he walks around calling me a huge disappointment to him when really, it’s been quite the fucking success story that I haven’t turned out to be any sort of version of him.
Me: Are you going to pretend to hate me the entire evening? Princess Peach: we’ve been over this - I do hate you. I won’t be pretending. Me: That’s beginning to get really boring
Princess Peach: Why are you so obsessed with formal invites? Are you my great-aunt? Me: I sure hope not given how much you like my dick
I moan as he yanks open the button of my trousers and shoves his hand inside. He circles his thumb over the bare, hot, leaking head. “You’re soaked, princess.”
When he pulls his fingers out of my mouth and replaces them with his tongue, I moan like a whore. Then his fingers are pushing into my hole, rough and indelicate, spearing me open.
I expect him to fuck inside immediately but he doesn’t, he drops low and attacks my hole with his mouth, licking and sucking at my taint and my balls before leaning back to spit on it. “Push it out, let me see that perfect pussy.”
“You’re perfect,” he says. I’m standing here, pressed against the dirty wall of a club bathroom, holding my ass open like a slut, and I’ve never felt more prized.
“Shit, fuck, shit,” I mutter against the tile. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, baby. You got this.” “Don’t tell me how to take a fucking dick,”
it feels like he’s rearranging my insides so that no one else is ever going to fit inside me again.
“So… can I buy you a drink?” he says after I’ve cleaned and tucked myself in. For some reason this makes me laugh. Ignoring the strange alien sparkle in my chest, I nod. “Yeah, alright.”
Which means I’m alone on Christmas.
my mobile starts ringing. Of course I have no expectations of it being him, but when it’s not, I still deflate a little.
“I’m outside, by the way.” “My house?! You fucking creep.” “Ha, funny.” I wish.
“Yeah, I know. I always look good in photos.” “So humble.” “Humility is for ugly people.”
“Honestly, I’ll probably order Chinese, watch Love Actually, and then go for a walk along the Thames.” “Love Actually,” I laugh.
Best Christmas movie
Love Actually happens to be the greatest Christmas movie of all time.”
Just said that :')
“Do your family know?” “That I don’t like spending time with them at Christmas? I hide it well.”
“Look, I have to go, but if you get lonely over Christmas, call me.” “I’ll never be lonely enough to call you.”
