Page 13 of Sweet Thing

Chapter 5

LET’S DANCE

Simeon left the building’s front door ajar and took the stairs to his apartment two at a time. He closed his apartment door when he entered, rushed into the living room, and looked around. There was a suction cup dildo and lube on the chrome and glass coffee table with a couple of Gay porn magazines.Sim gathered up the magazines and the dildo, but left the lube, as he was sure it would be required later. He tidied the items into a drawer and then fluffed up the red velvet cushions on the expensive black leather and chrome sofa. Then he checked out the spare bedroom. Simeon never brought fucks to his own bedroom. Why should he sleep on cum stained sheets when he could kick his hookup out and go back to his nice clean bed and tell Bowie all about it.

Sim was unusually nervous. His sex life was generally spontaneous, and he never thought much about it. But Bastian was so very attractive, and even thinking about the kisses they shared in the street made Sim shiver with anticipation. He ran into the bathroom, picked up a bottle of parfum, sprayed something expensive and masculine into the air, and then strode through the cloud of scent. The smell incited a flash of memory. He looked down at the bottle to see the brand name and recalled that he’d received the scent as a freebie from the last Berlin Fashion Week he walked years ago with Pieter, before he’d had his meltdown. Simeon had been such a mess back then, and his gut churned with memories of self-hatred. Doubts flooded over him, and Sim slumped in the doorway letting the memories and anxiety pass.

He focused on his tidal breathing exercise and reminded himself to be in the moment. I am okay; I am worthy of love. Peety is my friend again. Everything will be just fine.

A knock on the apartment door startled Sim back to awareness. He struggled out of his leather jacket, hooked it with the other coats, then checked and primped himself in the mirror by the front door. His inky black hair was a little damp from the rain, but no matter. The navy skinny fit Moneschto tee with silver sequin hearts he wore hugged his torso. It was just an inch too short, revealing a hint of pale flesh and a light sprinkling of dark hair from his navel trailing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Simeon spun around and checked himself out. His ass looked pert and inviting in slim-fit cotton/silk blend black trousers. “Gaah’d, so fuckable. I would so do me!” he chuckled. Then Simeon opened the door.

Sim’s eyes lingered on the tall blond, blue-eyed, rugged man leaning seductively on the doorjamb. Bastian was soaking wet and disheveled. Sim had forgotten about the intermittent rain, and from the look of the man, the heavens must have opened in the minutes they’d parted.

“Oh, my gaah’d, I’m so sorry. Come in, come in, I’ll get you a towel.” He cooed as he turned and rushed to the bathroom to grab a clean towel.

Bastian entered the apartment and removed his damp tailored suit jacket. He strode into the living room and laid his wet jacket over a dining chair. Bastian’s property developer eye scanned the white-walled room. He smiled appreciatively at seeing the high ceiling and original ornate Rococo plaster molding edging the room. The war destroyed so much beauty, and Bastian was obsessed with the historic restoration of buildings he purchased.

A black leather sofa and glass coffee table sat in the center of the room facing a huge original Art Deco fireplace. A dining table and chairs sat in front of large period sash windows. Simeon had a vast collection of Vinyl albums in the two alcoves either side of the fireplace, and a proper, old-school record player. A skateboard deck, featuring Bowie’s Aladdin Sane artwork with lightning strike motif across one eye, hung on the wall over the fireplace, and either side, signed photos of David Bowie took pride of place. Bastian smiled appreciatively.

The far wall opposite the fireplace was decorated with a floor-to-ceiling mural of Outer Space. Sim had labeled it his ‘Space Oddity’ wall. Bastian took a step closer, and his eyes darted over what he saw. The wall appeared to represent Simeon Duchamp’s universe and was absolutely smothered with photographs. Some were of him alone in various poses and stages of sobriety, and others were with models and celebrities he’d met at shows. There was a line-up of obscene Polaroid’s of cocks and asses that Bastian could only assume Simeon had enjoyed. There were event passes, airline boarding pass stubs, arty doodles, and poetry notes. The contents of the wall splayed out from a central Polaroid photograph as if all of Simeon’s life evolved from that place.

Bastian perused the solar system wall from afar. But as he stepped closer, he saw that the center of this crazy universe was, in fact, a Polaroid photo of Simeon Duchamp and a blond man whom he recognized as Pieter Bayer—the partner of artist Emily Raven. The good-looking young men were curled up on a couch, Pieter clutching Simeon to his side with one arm, and holding a book in his other hand. They appeared to be lovers, snuggling. Beneath the photo, the words ‘New York’s in Love’ were scrawled. Bastian smiled at the reference, recalling that it was the title of a random late 80’s David Bowie song. It was an awful cheesy song, but even an icon like Bowie was allowed a low point, right?

Sim rushed into the room and attacked Bastian with a fluffy white towel, rubbing over his hair as if he were a naughty puppy trying to escape bath time. Bastian roared incoherently in alarm and held his hands up in surrender and then grabbed Simeon’s skinny wrists.

“Stop!” he hollered with a choked laugh, taking a step back and grabbing the towel from Sim’s hands. He rubbed his hair one last time and then draped the towel around his neck and ran his fingers through damp blond locks, appearing a little affronted.

Simeon wore a cute elfish grin, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. Bastian couldn’t deny the man was adorable. His frown twitched to a smirk. He leaned in and gently tasted Sim’s mouth.

Simeon gave himself to the kiss, his lips smiling as he moaned and hummed at the taste of Bastian’s alcohol-tinged mouth.

Bastian broke the kiss and looked into the young model’s curious brown eyes. Simeon was delicious. Bastian hoped, this time, he would feel something and, at last, would go through with it. He had to go through with it.

Simeon thought it was best to be upfront and get the elephant out of the room. “I can’t offer you much, water, herbal tea or fruit juice. I’m a recovering alcoholic.” He admitted immediately.

“I’m not thirsty for anything but you,” Bastian signed as he moved in to nuzzle at Simeon’s throat. Simeon moaned most pleasingly. ”Shame about the alcohol,” Bastian sighed. “Are you a filthy crazy drunk?” He broke away and moved to sit on the sofa.

“I am. That was the problem.” Sim replied seriously, following Bastian to the couch. ”I’ve been sober for more than a year now. Cock’s my only addiction these days.” His eyes shot a playful, wanton stare at Bastian and then the gaze moved down to the other man’s bulging crotch.

Heat rushed through Bastian’s body. “I’m relieved to hear it; we can be addicts together, ja?” Bastian wagged his brows and grinned. “Komm.“ He held out his hand to Sim.

A wave of lust pooled in Simeon’s groin and made his balls tighten. He kicked his boots off, and, anchoring Bastian’s blue eyes, he stepped up, and his long, slender legs folded to straddle Bastian’s meaty thighs.

Bastian’s broad hands immediately cradled Sim’s bottom. A groan of pleasure rumbled from deep in his chest, and he squeezed Sim’s ass. Simeon sighed, offered a brilliant smile, and then pulled the white towel from around Bastian’s neck and tossed it aside. They beamed knowingly at each other, and Sim leaned in for a kiss.

Simeon ground his burgeoning erection against Bastian’s flat, muscular abdomen and his hands roamed, octopus style. Bastian was incredibly fit. His body was hard packed muscle under the lavender Linen shirt and dark suit trousers. Simeon sat on rock hard thighs with his ass being massaged through his trousers in time with the rhythm of their kissing. He reached down and unbuttoned his trousers without unlocking lips. Bastian tasted forbidden—he tasted of alcohol, and the good Dr. would not approve. Bastian was a glass of sweet white wine with a hint of man and Simeon wanted to drink him in one gulp—and then go back for the rest of the bottle.

Bastian’s thumbs hooked inside the waistband at the back of Sim’s trousers. He tugged them down. Bastian groaned when his fingers caressed the soft, warm skin of Simeon’s ass. Simeon wore no underwear.

Simeon pulled back and dragged his T-shirt over his head. He gave Bastian a wide triumphant grin as he watched the man’s eyes grazing his boyish serpentine form. Sim had a small bar piercing his left nipple; Bastian’s lips latched on, and he ran his tongue over the metal and flesh. Simeon arched back and cried out in passion. “Fuck yeeahhh,” he ground his hips in circles on those hard thighs. Simeon was laid back on the couch, and his trousers then awkwardly dragged from his legs. Bastian then repositioned him.

Simeon had a raging, glistening hard-on and sat naked astride a fully clothed Bastian Roth. The fevered kisses continued, and Sim reached down to unbutton Bastian’s trousers.

“Not yet,” Bastian growled with the swirling pleasure of the invading tongue.

Simeon moved his fingers from the button and ghosted over Bastian’s groin. He was startled to feel a flaccid bulge with no sign of arousal at all. What the fuck? Sim was sure Bastian must be as turned-on as he was? He moved a little lower down Bastian’s body and subtly angled his hard-on between the man’s thighs, dry-humping and rubbing his cock against Bastian’s crotch in time to the shower of intoxicating kisses.

Bastian’s hands were trailing up and down his spine and intermittently gripping his ass. Sim was so turned on. He rarely bottomed on the first date but hell; Bastian was incredibly sexy he’d let him have his way as long as condoms and lube were involved. Sim wanted to see Bastian naked, wanted to rub himself on that hard golden tanned skin. He reached for Bastian’s top trouser button again. Bastian pulled from the kiss with a sudden look of fear in his eyes.