Patrick
“This is Lydia, leave a message.”
I just want to know that you’re okay. I hit the end button just as the machine beeped. This was my seventh call to her, all of them were ignored and she’d even turned her read receipts off on her texts, so I had no clue if she’d seen them. Jon’s words of “wisdom” lingered in my mind the same way his kiss lingered on my cheek – heavy and burdensome. Every time I even looked in his direction I felt like I was betraying Lydia, the few lingering touches in the Bahamas haunted me because she didn’t know. Jon didn’t want to tell her, but I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it to myself.
And now she was gone, off on some adventure that we weren’t invited to. Why didn’t he think this was a bigger deal? Was I off my rocker in thinking this was major? She’d dropped off the face of the planet with not even a goodbye! I groaned and started pacing the bedroom again, eventually I would wear a path into the carpet if I kept it up.
With a huff, I grabbed my phone and sunglasses off the bed. I could already hear mum clicking her tongue about wearing a suit to come see her instead of something more casual, but it wasn’t really my main concern right now. I took the stairs down to the garage to clear my head and get a workout for the first-time a while. The Porsche was waiting in the garage, and no matter how dumb it was I felt a pang of sadness as I looked at the empty passenger seat. In a perfect world Lydia would be with me, going to meet my parents. Or maybe I’d be in the passenger seat of her car on the way to see hers.
Whatever it might have looked like, I cast it out of my mind and focused on the road. The conversation my mother and I needed to have would require my full capacity, and I needed to prepare myself. I just hoped she wouldn’t tell me anything too horrifying.
I got to the restaurant right on time, but I still couldn’t beat her since she was already waiting for me. I spotted her across the room, Lucille Rosing, decked out in hippie finery. She was the only fifty-eight-year-old woman that I had ever seen wear a crochet crop top and baggy harem pants. Her wavy, coppery hair hung in lose waves well past her shoulders and had a prominent amount of silver showing near the top. She was back in the mindset of not dying her hair, but that would probably change in another month.
“Pat!” she cried, jumping up from her seat. “Oh, darling, I missed you.” Her thick, posh English accent never faded, and it made me feel like I was home.
I had to lean down quite a bit to hug her but it felt right, and I was more than happy to make my back hurt just to do it. “Mum,” I greeted softly. “I missed you too. Where’s Nora?”
As she pulled away she shook her head sadly and gestured to the seat across from her. “Business calls, she sends her love though.” She shrugged and waved for the waiter. “Where’s the girl?”
I chuckled and ordered before replying, “Business calls as it were. I’m sure we can all get together soon, maybe when the conversation isn’t going to be so heavy.”
She looked away and fiddled with her napkin, the table shook ever so slightly, and I knew she was bouncing her knee. “You really want to get into this right away?” she asked quietly, still avoiding looking at me.
“He’s dying, I have a choice to make and I don’t know how much longer I can put it off.” I didn’t want to sound hostile, but this was exactly why we were here. Mum nodded but stayed quiet, I let us stay silent, checking my phone every so often until our food arrived. “How’d you meet?” I asked finally.
Her cheeks went pink and she took a long draw of her wine. “I was a bartender in Krakow, I had just finished college and I was taking some time off before law school. Aleksy came in a few nights in a row, we talked a lot.”
“What happened to always “knowing”?” She’d always said she knew she was a lesbian from her early teens, and as a child I never really questioned how my own existence came to be but now I was legitimately curious. Tentatively anyway.
“I felt different with Aleksy…” she answered with a wistful smile, fork in hand and swirling over her lamb. “Nothing was set in stone, and I felt good with him. It wasn’t what I wanted and I figured that out pretty quickly, but not quickly enough because, well, you’re sitting in front of me.”
Alright, no matter how curious I was, I had to admit it was kind of gross to hear. “Is there anything about him you can tell me? What was he like?”
“He’s kind, quiet, and passionate. He was extremely vocal about anything he didn’t like, big or small, and he was very spiritual. I’d say religious, but he didn’t go to church, he did all his worship alone.” She paused and finally looked up at me. “He’s also married with children, and much older than me.”
I frowned and crossed my arms as I leaned forward against the table. “Excuse me?”
She looked away again. “Aleksy has three kids, all older than you, and a lovely wife. I saw pictures of her later, after I found out I was pregnant. We never met and I didn’t know that she existed at first.”
“How old is older?” I asked more harshly.
“Um…” Her lips moved as she did the mental math and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. “He would be about seventy-five now. I believe his son is a few years younger than me.”
Jesus Christ. She was twenty-one when she had me, that would have made Aleksy thirty-eight, and it was scarily close to my age difference with Lydia. I told myself it was just a number, that she was legal and it was fine, but seeing it from the other side made me realize how predatory it looked. Staring down at my hands, my mouth felt like it was bone dry. This man had a whole other life, and he risked it all for a woman he never saw again, for a woman that was half his age.
“Why now?” I asked hoarsely. “Why wait this long to introduce us?”
She gestured erratically as she spoke, “Aleksy had a family, and I disrupted them enough as it was. He paid his child support and I sent him updates about you. Around your sixteenth birthday I received a letter from his son, Aleksy Junior, asking me to cease all contact. Our agreement had been that I would introduce you when you were eighteen, but I never heard from either of them again.” Her eyes watered and she blotted lightly. “He got back in touch a few months ago, he wanted to hear from you, but I just didn’t think you’d want it after so long. At least, until his son reached out to tell me that his father was sick and dying.”
I was quiet, there was nothing left to ask and I felt like I had nothing I could say now. The fact that he had maintained some form of contact was shocking to me, even more so that he actually paid child support and wanted updates about my life. What did he know about me? Because beyond knowing he had a family, I really knew nothing about this man and I suspected I wouldn’t unless I actually met him.
“I’d like it if you went and saw him.”
“Mum—”
“Please, Patrick, it’s the last thing that he wants, the last thing that he’s asking for.”
This was my last chance to meet him, to meet my extended family, and I still didn’t know what the right decision was for me. I stared down at my plate and the half-eaten veal stared back. My appetite was gone, in its place was a heavy weight holding me to my chair.
“Why didn’t you tell me when I went to Europe? When I wanted to know more about him and you just said it was a drunken night, why not then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mum—”
“Patrick, I don’t have answers that you want,” she said rather sharply. The clang of her fork hitting the table made me flinch. “They didn’t want you around, they didn’t want me around, I figured that it was easier to pretend I didn’t know anything instead of telling a twenty-year-old boy that his father didn’t want anything more to do with him.”
Boy. I flinched and without another word I pushed up and away from the table. “Tell Nora that I said hello.”
“Darling—”
“Bye, mum.”
I’d talk to her again when I was less upset, when I knew how to talk to her without being irrationally mad. The dining room turned into a blur as I moved unseeing back out to the street. Will Jon be home yet? Of all the places I’d called home, his was by far my favourite. Maybe he’d heard from Lydia and we could all talk…
I pushed it from my mind and slipped into the driver’s seat. The sky was a cloudy, light gray colour. Was it pathetic to immediately compare that to her eyes? Yeah, probably. I had to straighten myself the fuck out before I ended up staring blankly at the ceiling while listening to sad music and whining more about my life.
I managed to make it home without dwelling too much, and thankfully Jon’s car was already there. He could help me see straight again and provide an unbiased opinion on meeting Aleksy. My footsteps echoed through the empty parking garage and even louder in the cavernous blue and gold marble lobby, it became a distant ringing in my head, a hypnotizing sound that lead me up to the penthouse. I unbuttoned my jacket as I went, tossing it haphazardly on the floor as entered the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I dropped my bag to the floor along with the coat.
Jon was sitting on the floor with his back up against the bed, shirtless, and drinking straight from a wine bottle. “Soothing myself,” he said with a lopsided shrug and smirk. “I punched some guy in the face today, it felt pretty good.”
“That’s what a psychopath says,” I muttered to myself as I stepped around him to the sofa by the window. “If I’m not allowed to be drinking anymore then you can’t either.”
He held up the bottle, the dark liquid sloshed loudly and I could see it was well over half-way full still. “I’ve barely had any, thank you very much.” Jon took a long pull from the bottle and I cocked an eyebrow at him. As he set it down, he belched loudly and stood up. “I heard you fucked my daughter.”
I swear to god my eyes flitted to the window for a second as I contemplated jumping. This was not a conversation I ever expected to be having, nor was it one that I wanted to have either. “I’m going to assume that Maritza talked to you and expressed her opinion on your relationships?” Tattled to daddy dearest more like. I was just fucking cursed today, apparently.
The other man turned and walked slowly toward me, clearly trying to intimidate me. It worked, he was built and tall, and while I could move fast that didn’t matter much while I was cornered. He came to stand right in front of me, staring down with a blank expression. Once, when Lydia and I had been alone, she told me that she couldn’t stand up to Jon if he made eye-contact with her. At the time I thought she was being silly, or that maybe her submissive training was working for her, but it became painfully clear to me what exactly she meant as he held my gaze right now. Icy, that’s how she described it. Icy didn’t even cut it.
“She did more than ‘express her opinion’.”
I swallowed, trying to fix my suddenly parched throat while I found my words, “It wasn’t what you think.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And Lydia is someone else’s daughter, if you have an issue with me treating Maritza the way I treat Lydia, then you’re being a hypocrite.” This was not going to get us anywhere. I took a deep breath and tried again with less hostility, “Maritza and I fooled around a few times, it amounted to little more than making out in my office during a Christmas party. We never had sex.”
She wanted to, that much was clear when she tried to get my belt undone, but we were interrupted and I ended up going home with a different woman. Two Christmases in a row it happened, she seemed a little bitter with me the second time though. At the time I didn’t know Jon and I were going to end up screwing around, it wasn’t even a blip on my radar.
His gaze, thankfully, seemed to soften a little. “Nothing else? You aren’t lying just to make me happy?”
The funny thing about Jon was that he could get anyone to tell the truth, anyone. I’d seen it in courtrooms, I’d seen it with his daughter, our employees, clients, you name it and he could manipulate it. I had no clue how he did it, and I had never been able to do it myself, maybe it was psychology, or intimidation, but it just worked for him. “If I was, I’d just deny it altogether.”
“Patrick—”
“Mari and I never went any further, hand to god,” I swore, crossing my chest.
“Good, that makes me feel better about this.”
Before I had a chance to really register what he said, he pulled me up off the sofa to him. In an instant his mouth found mine and I stood there, paralyzed. I liked how it felt to touch him, to feel him touch me, but there was a disconnect in my head about the whole situation – I’d only ever been on the less involved end of gay encounters. Blowjobs? Always given to me. Anal? I was on top. Things were done to please me and I didn’t reciprocate, whether that was my own issue with my sexuality to work out or not, it wasn’t changing overnight and I felt weird being on equal footing when it came to sex with a guy.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he pulled away. His hand stayed on my neck, his mouth inches from mine. “Should I stop?”
Commanding, controlling, domineering, he was all these things, but he wasn’t one to toe the lines of consent if someone was uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. Up until about three months ago I was perfectly content with the label of straight, maybe bi-curious if I was feeling adventurous, but it always went back to straight. Kissing him was decidedly not straight, having him fuck me in the ass was also not straight. And I found it painfully difficult to wrap my head around my new experiences. “When did you get comfortable with this? For yourself, I mean.”
He shrugged and backed up a bit, this time moving his hands to slowly undo my tie as he spoke, “It took a while to talk about it with Chrissy, I was terrified she would leave me when I said it. But she liked having other men involved and part of her being my Domme was pleasing her partners if she wanted. I don’t think I ever explicitly told her it was what I wanted, but I think she knew anyway.” With my tie undone he discarded it and started working on my shirt buttons, almost like he was trying to keep himself distracted. “When I was first trying my hand at being a Dom it was with only male partners because she didn’t want other women involved. The more I explored with people I chose, the more I started opening up to it.”
As my shirt fluttered open he gently took my hand and undid the cufflinks. “I want to tell Lydia,” I told him after a minute. He nodded and I continued, “But I keep thinking that she’s not going to be happy about it.”
“When you’re ready, then you’re ready,” he said quietly. “Wait until you’re ready.”
He didn’t want me to tell her, and I had to wonder if he hadn’t been completely honest with her about his past with Christine and his sexuality in general. At least I knew I wasn’t the only one nervous about her finding out. In my distracted state I didn’t notice him finishing the last set of cufflinks off, my shirt fell down my shoulders and I let it hit the floor at my feet.
“I feel like you’re trying to accomplish something here,” I remarked dryly while he started working on my belt.
“You’re wearing too much for me to do anything with you.”
“That’s ominous. What exactly are you looking to do with me?” My pants came loose, and he pushed them down. Having gone commando today suddenly seemed to be paying off as my semi-hard cock started to come to attention between us.
“Whatever the fuck I want.”
The way my stomach fluttered when he said it, like a schoolboy thrill that was both foreign and exciting. The air between us had been steadily getting more tense and now hummed with sharp electricity, I met his insistent gaze and for a fraction of a second we locked eyes before he grabbed me and pulled me to him again.
Chest to chest like this I couldn’t help but be confused and dazed by the new sensations; his muscle against mine, his chest hair was shorter, sharper and it scratched at me in a way that made my skin prickle with excitement, but his handswere what had me panting and moaning like a bitch in heat. Women, Lydia specifically, would grab at me with long dainty fingers, sharp nails, and usually in response to what I did to them, and I loved feeling her nails rake up my back and shoulders when she came. Jon’s hands groped me like he wanted to make me feel him, like he wanted me to remember what it felt like to be with him, and as though he didn’t have a care in the world about hurting me.
I grasped eagerly at his upper arms and let myself give in, tasting the wine he’d been drinking on his tongue, grinding myself against his thigh. His cock was hard, the rigid line of it strained against his pants and rubbed against my own shamelessly. Letting go of his biceps, I slipped my hands between us, refusing to detach my mouth from his all the while as I jerked desperately at his zipper. We had come so close to this so many times since the first at Plaisir Interdit but we could never finish – always while drunk in the Bahamas, and interrupted when we heard Lydia wake up. She wasn’t here now, and there was no horrible fear of her walking in on us.
I wish she was here. My anger and frustration and sadness poured out in waves as my fingers worked faster to strip him and push him back until I could sink to my knees in front of him. I needed a distraction, to feel wanted, to lose control. The only problem was that I was now eye level with his cock, and I had no idea what to do. I hadn’t ever really taken the time to notice his cock before, but up close I could see the distinct differences; his more obvious length, the prominent ridge and raised veins, and well, he was circumcised. That was a lot weirder to me right then than it had ever been before.
I knew if I looked up at him he would take over, but at the same time I didn’t want him to think that I couldn’t put two and two together. Thankfully, he seized a fist full of my hair and dragged me towards his cock.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered sharply.
This was payback for Plaisir. I didn’t protest, instead I opened my mouth and let him guide the head of his cock toward me. My eyes had to be the size of dinner plates and I adamantly refused to look at him at this point, feeling embarrassed and humiliated and so turned on that my own cock ached. For the first time, I swirled my tongue around him, tasting his come and the salty smoothness of his skin.
“And you thought you wouldn’t like submission,” he teased, pushing my head down further. “Come on, you can do better than that.”
I gagged unintentionally and I couldn’t hold it back. This is not as easy as I thought. Porn made it look easy, Lydia made it look easy – hell, I’d pushed her head down all the way on his cock and she barely gagged at all. I couldn’t even make it a quarter of the way. I reached up to grasp it tight in my fist, realizing that if I held it there was less to try and get in my mouth.
Jon laughed and grabbed my wrist and making me wince, he pulled it away and kept me rooted to the spot. “Give me both your hands.”
Nerves were starting to get the best of me but I did it anyway; he pressed my hands flat against his abs and then sunk his fingers back into my hair, slowly starting to pump his cock in and out of my mouth. It was hypnotizing and oddly soothing, and inch by inch he managed to work over half his length past my lips. My eyes closed as his rhythm sped up and I hummed around him, it was unintentional, like a moan that was drawn out and it instantly made him groan and start fucking my mouth harder. Drool began to dribble down my chin but I couldn’t wipe it away while he held my wrists together with one hand.
“Use your tongue more,” he ordered breathlessly.
Am I bad at blowjobs? I don’t think I’d ever had to give much in the line of instruction and it made me a bit flustered to think that I wasn’t up to par. This was fucking weird to be insecure over. I tried to listen to him though, swirling my tongue and pressing it firmly to the underside of his shaft while sucking harder and still trying to figure out the breathing half of the situation.
I must have done something right because I could hear his breathing speed up and his thrusting became less controlled. My eyes watered and I started to gag again just as he moaned loudly and thrust forward while he held me firmly in place. I should have known what the end result of face fucking would be, it wasn’t exactly a secret, but I was still surprised at the warm, salty come hitting the roof of my mouth and back of my throat. Lydia never flinched when she swallowed, but I certainly fucking did, I gagged hard too.
I couldn’t swallow it all, or any of it – it tasted awful. Jon panted and held me there for a second. Eventually he dragged me off his cock, a long line of spit connected from the tip to my mouth and my face felt hot as I glanced up at him knowing that I clearly looked like had my face fucked. I couldn’t ignore the nasty taste on my tongue and quickly grabbed the nearest article of clothing to spit into.
“Pussy,” Jon said with a loud, booming laugh.
“Shut up,” I snapped, pushing myself up. “You couldn’t even last what, a full five minutes?” I shoved him hard and he seized my wrist again, pulling me to his chest at such an angle that my arm was twisted painfully and I had to look up at him.
“Get on the bed.”
I snorted indignantly. What was he going to do? He was already soft, it was my turn to fuck him. “And do what? Watch you play with your limp dick? Not happening.”
“You’re not fucking me,” he warned darkly. His voice was deep and gravely, I’d only heard him like this a few times at Plaisir, always right before he beat some poor girl’s ass black and blue. “Get on the bed, Patrick.”
I want to say it was because I just didn’t want to argue, that I only listened to placate him, but that would be a lie. I did it because the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand gripping my wrist were making my cock throb with need. I did it because I was legitimately curious about what he wanted to do with me.
I barely made it on to the bed before he had me on my back, pinned to the mattress while he secured the restraint system. He had me spread eagle and suddenly the room just felt a little too open and cold. After testing the binds he got back off the bed and stalked over to the closet.
“Safe word?” he asked casually, a surprising departure from the authoritative Dom not even two minutes ago.
I lolled my head back and sighed heavily while staring at the coffered ceiling. “This is fucked up.”
“Have you noticed that when you get annoyed, angry, flustered, or embarrassed, that half your vocabulary is just the word ‘fuck’?” He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke and smirked at me.
“My degree is in corporate law, not English.”
“Clearly.”
I tried to see past him, to figure out what exactly he was doing but he blocked my view from the shelves. I laid back and strained to hear him finally close the cabinet and come back to the bed, this time kneeling between my spread legs.
“Do you want the gag or the blindfold?”
“Ooh, I get a choice?” I asked, feigning a perky upbeat voice.
“Pick one or I’ll pick for you,” he snapped, clearly having lost his patience.
“Gag me.” It was more of a joke than anything, but he did it anyway.
I expected him to use a regular ball gag, or one of those trainer ones with the holes in it, not a dildo gag. Jon guided it into my mouth without so much as warning and secured it tightly. Thankfully, it wasn’t the longer one that we usually gave Lydia, it was smaller, maybe only two or three inches and about as wide as two fingers. It actually felt kind of nice pressed against my tongue, it gave me something to focus on.
“Give me a hand signal,” he demanded. I flipped him off and he chuckled. “As long as you can remember it, I don’t give a shit.”
Bastard. I laid my head back and shifted against the mattress impatiently, he had to do something with me, it was killing me to have to wait. He kept the waiting game a while longer and my eyes eventually drifted shut as I sucked on the rubber cock in my mouth. Two things happened that shocked me into jolting hard and making him laugh louder; he grasped my cock tightly in a cold lubed hand and the other was suddenly working fingers into my ass.
“Patrick,” Jon began conversationally. His hand pumped my cock, his grip was tight and his movement frustratingly slow. “You’re not going to tell Lydia about us.”
There was an implicit threat in his words but I could barely process it while his fingers massaged my prostrate. I thrust of the bed with a choked whine, trying to get him to jerk me off faster. My heart was pounding in my ears and I writhed against the sheets meekly, I was so close if he just—
“You’re so quick to try and finish this,” Jon teased, pulling his hand away from my shaft.
I was going to fucking cry. My cock was throbbing and I was there, just another few seconds! He trailed a finger up the underside of my length, following it with a feather light touch that almost tickled. I wanted to kick him for it, and I was going to cry while I did it. Why did Lydia like this shit? It was torture.
Jon withdrew his fingers from my ass and I was thankful to still be gagged so he couldn’t get the satisfaction of hearing me whimper out loud. I didn’t have to wait long before something else started probing to replace his fingers. A dildo, I assumed based on the smooth, rounded tip.
It stretched me open and I started to squirm again, this time out of discomfort. He continued pushing it in, ignoring my moaning around the gag and griping the restraints so tightly that they would be imprinted into my palm. After it was seated entirely inside me and I was panting, Jon grabbed my cock again and started stroking up and down.
“Not a word about this to her, Pat,” he repeated. “You’re not ready and neither am I.”
I couldn’t say anything, both because of the gag and because I couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of the dildo rubbing against the most sensitive spot and his hand moving at lighting speed on my own cock. My back arched and I cried out around the gag as waves of relief crashed over me, my orgasm making me jerk against his touch.
Jon’s hand slowed until my come turned to a trickle and I felt it drip down my shaft and his fingers. My glow felt amazing but as I started to come down, I realized I could feel my own come decorating my chest and abdomen. It was kind of gross and I was more than ready to clean up.
“Here, don’t open too wide, it’ll hurt your jaw.” He reached over and unclipped the gag.
The piece that covered my lips and cheeks was sticky and wet with saliva and I hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it had become. Ow. I winced and he tossed it off to the side.
“Let me up, I need a shower now,” I complained immediately.
He smirked down at me before going to unlock my feet first. Asshole. Something was clear to me though as he stayed silent and undid my bindings – my head was surprisingly clear. I felt more focused and less scatterbrained.
“I’m going to Poland,” I said quietly.
“Weird thing to say after having sex, but alright.”
I rolled my eyes and flexed my wrist as it came loose. “Shut up, I’m being open here.” The last of the bindings came loose and I pushed myself into a sitting position. “I’m going to leave tomorrow.”
“Everybody is going off to find themselves and I’m stuck in New York,” Jon complained as he grabbed the toys to wash. “Whatever, come take a shower with me.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” I grabbed my phone out my jacket pocket on the floor and leaned against the bed as I stared at her number, with a quick glance toward the bathroom I hit dial.
Her phone didn’t even ring before going to voicemail. “This is Lydia, leave a message.”
“Dia,” I began. “I miss you, baby, and I was hoping that we could talk soon.”