Page 44 of Sweet Thing

CHAPTER 21

slow burn

Simeon stepped away from the heat radiating from Bastian. He clicked the overhead light off, and the bedside lamps on. “Lie down on your front with your arms above your head.” Even before the massage had begun, the frisson between them was already more intense than he’d anticipated for what was supposed to be the holistic evening Simeon had agreed upon.

Bastian lay down, and Sim knelt on the bed, sitting back on his heels, and considering the man spread before him. His first impulse was to rub his determined hard-on between Bastian’s fabric-covered butt cheeks. He smiled privately, and then scolded himself. He was going to give Bastian what he needed tonight and not give in to selfish lust. Simeon reached for a pillow and placed it over the globes of the other man’s ass, then straddled and checked to be sure that he could lean forward without rubbing his eager cock on Bastian’s skin.

“Are you good?” Sim asked, a light, flirty voice, masking the need he felt too keenly already.

Bastian turned his head and took in a glance at the young man on his back. He beamed as he rested his head, enjoying the simple pleasure of the weight of a man against his body. A tickle coiled in his belly.

“I have the most depraved images in my head…” he admitted.

“Well, you gotta cut that out and relax,” Sim scolded, slapping him playfully. Bastian laughed, and wiggled to settle into the mattress. Simeon steadied himself and observed the rise and fall of the ridges and valleys of muscles. Bastian’s naked skin, with that Bowie-text tattoo was sublime. Sim wanted to kiss, lick, and bite, but again, he reeled himself back. He had to take this seriously if he was going to help Bastian get out of his head for a while without resorting to illegal substances.

What he was doing this evening was the most selfless, thoughtful thing Simeon had done for anyone in his whole life. For once, it wasn’t about him. Even though he would partake of the pleasure, his desire wasn’t at the forefront of Simeon’s mind.

Sim poured some massage oil into his cupped hand and followed the instructions Emily provided, warming the oil in his hands before applying his palms to Bastian’s skin. Simeon began just above Bast’s ass. He concentrated, pushing down and sliding up Bastian’s back, over his shoulders, then around and down to cover his Dimples of Venus again. He did as Emily instructed and repeated the action rapidly seven or eight times, until Bastian’s skin reddened and blood flowed to kindle a flush of warmth on the surface. Bastian gave a long, noisy caveman groan.

The way the tattoo glistened now it was oiled up made the black lettering look almost Prussian blue. “You okay?” Sim asked.

“Mmmm,” Bastian replied nuzzling his cheek into the soft fluffy towel.

Sim applied his thumbs to either side of the base of the man’s spine. He took his time running his thumbs up and down, inching his way slowly up to the nape of Bastian’s neck. Sim noticed the body beneath him slump with relaxation, arms and legs suddenly letting go of tension.

“Tell me about the tattoo,” Simeon said, as his hands roamed, squeezed, and pummeled.

Bastian had started to drift off with relaxation, and so it took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I got it when I was eighteen”, he began dozily, “A group of friends and I were out in Paris celebrating completing our exams. Unknown to me, my father had sent his chauffeur, Max to collect me and drive me back to Berlin. Max caught me making out with a man in a doorway.” Bastian paused to groan sweetly. ”Ohh, Simeon… So gutt”

He continued with his tale. “I had no idea father set his spies on me. But that night Max took me and drove me from Paris to Berlin. I couldn’t even go back to my apartment to collect my belongings. He dragged me home and told my father what he saw.”

“No way. What a fucker!”

“I know. My father was so furious. His face was like a RotKohl; (red cabbage) I thought he was going to kill me.”

Simeon comfortingly squeezed Bastian’s tight shoulders, searching for knots of tension beneath his fingertips.

“He said I was shameful and disgusting. My urges were unnatural, and he would not have a homosexual for a son. Therefore, I was not a homosexual.” Bastian paused, his brows furrowing as the memory emerged from the depths. It had been so long since he’d thought about that horrible night. “The bastard carried a walking cane everywhere. He used it to beat me until I repeated over and over Ich bin nicht homosexuell. I said the words eventually, but I knew down to my bones that it was a lie.”

Simeon paused in his ministrations.

“Oh. I’m so sorry Bastian, that’s awful.” Sim was horrified that a father would brutalize his son like that. Simeon was glad the old man was dead.

“So how did that lead to the tattoo?”

“I had a couple of broken ribs and a lot of bruising over my back. When the bruises faded, I went to a tattoo parlor and got the words inked. It was a kind of ‘fuck you’ to my father.”

Simeon stopped and poured some more oil. He rubbed it on his chest and then poured a little more in his hands. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

A confusing sensation twisted in Bastian’s gut. He didn’t have the words to say how much Simeon’s touches moved him. He’d rarely spoken about what he’d experienced at the hands of his brutal father. The gentleness, sensuality, and the kindness from Simeon made him want to sob like a baby.

Bastian’s sex life with Matti had always been rough and kinky. Matti was a bottom, loved to submit and to be restrained in any number of creative ways. Bastian was his top, and he delighted in dominating and tying up his lover, giving him what he wanted. They knew their places in the relationship. Bastian did enjoy receiving anal, but he’d never let Matti penetrate him, and they’d never taken the time just to touch for hours like this. They both had busy schedules, and so private time was always about getting-off, and letting off steam. Bastian regretted deeply that he would never share this newly learned sensuality with Matti. But also, Bastian could not deny that he wouldn’t want to have never experienced the tender way Simeon touched him.

“Bast, tell me how you’re feeling?” Simeon asked, parroting his very own therapist, Dr. Neuhaus. He could see Bastian was crying.

The man could only whisper one word,“Undone.”

Simeon leaned to caress the soft blond beard framing Bastian’s jaw. Bastian turned his head towards the touch, and Simeon licked away the salty tear that had rested on the man’s nose. Bastian wiggled his nose like a rabbit, and they both chuckled. The laughter was like a breeze on a stifling day.