One Shots (MxM)

Wenn and Mateo Talks

TW: mentions self harm and suicide

Wenn and Mateo late night talks-

Wenn

I flip back on my bed, panting heavily while reaching up to run my fingers through my hair.

Mateo lays next to me and stares for a moment before reaching out towards my ass. I roll out of bed before he can touch me and sigh.

"You have way too much energy. Give me some time to cool down and then we can go again." I tell him, slipping on some sweatpants without bothering to put on underwear.

"If you weren't so gorgeous I wouldn't want you all the time, Pecas." He answers.

I roll my eyes and go into the bathroom, smirking at my own reflection. Mateo is like a little kid claiming his prize. He never gives the hickeys a chance to fade away and has even taken to biting or scratching me since he learned that I'm a masochist.

The only problem is that he is 21 and I'm 28. It doesn't seem like that big of a difference until he f***s me all night and I can't get any rest. I would just tell him no, but god, he's so good. I just can't help myself.

I wash my hands and get my fingers wet before digging in my eyes to pull out my contacts. Once they're out, I blink away my tears and put my glasses on.

When I walk back out, Mateo sits up. "Could you get my gum out of my backpack? Front pocket."

I nod and walk to his stuff, unzipping the bag to grab his gum. I look closer and stick my hand further down, coming out with a handful of chips. 6 months, 1 year, 2 months, 3 weeks. "Are these AA chips?"

"No. I don't go to AA meetings. Those I got at rehab." He frowns as I put them back and hand him his gum, climbing back into bed with him. "Probably not the best topic to bring up to a guy you like."

"It's not like I've got room to judge. I've been to rehab 4 times now for stuff way worse than alcohol."

"Do you mind if I ask what?"

I sigh and lay back, staring up at the ceiling. "Drugs and s**t. The first time I was 14."

"14? Wow, that's really young."

"My biological parents were drug addicts and I guess my mom wanted me to be like them. I don't really remember anything from before I was taken from them. My therapist said it's trauma based amnesia... whatever that means. Anyway, all I know is what other people told me. When I was a baby my mom used to put cocaine on her fingers and rub it against my lips so I'd lick it off."

"When you were a baby? Like how old? A year?"

"According to what they confessed to, it started when I was 3 weeks old." I tell him. "When I was 5, I stopped licking it off because of the taste, so she started mixing it with sugar. When I was 7, they got addicted to h****n and my dad would stick me with needles and said that it was vaccinations that would keep me healthy. I think my teachers noticed the bruises from the needles, but nobody said anything until I was 10. I had a seizure at school and everyone started paying attention. The school called CPS or something and I haven't seen my parents since then."

"If you haven't seen them then why have you been to rehab?"

"I got put in foster care and it's not the best system to say the least. I was constantly around drugs, and even though they weren't being forced down my throat, I wanted to take them. I didn't think I was addicted, but obviously I was wrong. The first home they put me in, my foster brother and his friends would always have weed and s**t but they brought over coke. He knew what my parents were like, but he told me he'd only let me have some if I licked it off of his fingers, so I did and then everywhere I went after that, I just asked whoever I thought would have some."

"How did people find out and send you to rehab?"

"It's gross."

"My abuela sent me to rehab because I drank so much that I'd puke on myself and pass out. Most of the time I'd piss myself while I was out too." He admits, so I roll over to look at him.

"I stopped eating and started acting like a paranoid little tweaker. I kept vomiting blood, and I had nightmares every time I closed my eyes so I wouldn't sleep either. I had pasty skin and bags under my eyes and at one point I was at 67 pounds." As I explain, I try my hardest not to think too much about it. I don't want to get depressed. "I went to rehab and 'got better' and then two years later I did it all again."

Mateo nods along, looking quite invested. Nobody ever really wants to know about my problems. Sure everyone says that they care, but everyone likes me more when they don't comprehend that I'm a real person with my own thoughts and feelings and issues.

That's my problem with the doms I've had s*x with. They'd prefer for me to just be a pretty face with a hot body, and never make any effort to dig deeper.

The only dom that does care is Hayes. Granted, I pay him to care considering he's my therapist, but I think he'd keep caring even if I stopped.

"I don't think you're weak, you know? Most people think they're weak for falling off the wagon, but you aren't. You kept trying, right? You said four times. That's way better than giving up."

"Shut up." I mumble, scooting closer to put my face in his chest. I don't like crying and I certainly don't like when people see me cry.

He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arms around me. "So you went when you were 14 and 16. What about the other two times?"

"When I was 17 I dated this guy who was a druggie, which was already stupid enough, but I also let him convince me to do h****n again. I didn't like needles, so I smoked it instead, but that didn't help at all. Anyway, after a few weeks of doing that every day, I had a seizure and almost died. Some girl found me and called the cops and they put me in rehab."

I shrug and continue. "The last time I didn't need it. I took a bottle of pills and overdosed and they put me in rehab again, but I didn't take it because I was addicted or I wanted to get high. I took it because I was trying to kill myself, and instead of letting me, they kept me alive. The last one was like a mix of rehab and a psych ward. They kept me on 24 hour watch for two months before they let me out."

Mateo stays quiet for a moment. It actually makes me nervous. I'm used to talking about this stuff like it's not a big deal because the more I ignore it, the less I have to deal with it.

I know it's a big deal. I know I shouldn't joke about it or brush it off, but I don't want to let those feelings in either.

"I'm glad you didn't die."

I pull back and look up at him, watching him stare at me like I'm something precious and worth staying around for. That's new.

"I don't want you to do drugs."

"Obviously." I answer.

"I don't want you to cope the way you have been though. I don't like it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You have scars on your thighs and you keep a razor and lighter in your nightstand." He points out. This whole time I just thought he wasn’t very observant. "I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore."

"I can't promise you anything." I sigh and roll onto my back again. "I'll try, but I don't know, Mateo. It depends on how bad it gets."

"Well I'm here now. If it gets bad then you tell me and I'll be here. Okay?"

"Okay. On another note, we're going to go to the club tonight. I want to talk to Dax about letting you join. Hopefully he'll say yes and I can teach you to be a proper dom."

"I hope he says yes too. What should I wear?" He asks, starting to chew a piece of his gum.

"It doesn't really matter as long as it's sexy. Honestly, you could show up naked and nobody would think anything of it."

"Have the guys there seen you naked?"

I pause and decide to be honest. If I can tell him about my consistent drug problems, then I can tell him about my s*x life. "I've done scenes with most of the doms. That's what all those contracts were. Most were just one time things and I never had an emotional connection with them."

"That's fine. You don't need to look so worried. I've had s*x before too, you know?"

"I know, but-"

"But what?"

"But a few people at the club reacted badly when they found out about me sleeping with one of the doms."

"I'll fight them."

"No." I answer immediately. "It's fine, Mateo. I know they didn't mean it. People do and say things they don't mean when they're hurt. They're people just like me and I have no idea what they're going through. I don't want to go off on them and make their lives worse."

"You shouldn't let people treat you like that. Are they at least going to get in trouble?" Mateo asks, pulling me close before taking my face in his hands and pecking my lips gently.

"I'm not telling on them. Besides, if they hadn't made me feel bad, I never would've ran into you and ruined your tacos."

"My heart still hurts from that. That's why you were crying then? Why should we let them get off scot free?"

"Mateo." I say as a warning.

He just glares at me before raising a brow. "Don't speak to me like I'm a child."

The sound sends a shiver down my spine and makes me start to get hard again. He's not even a dom and he's already got one of the most sexy dom voices I've heard.

"S-Sorry."

"Good boy."

"Let's get dressed and go. The quicker we talk to Dax, the quicker we can get put on a waiting list for a playroom." I stand up and walk to my closet to find an outfit to put on.

"Waiting list?"

"Traditionally the dom will ask Dax to get a playroom and he will put them on a waiting list. Dimitri, one of the subs, does construction and stuff. He's been building more playrooms onto the back of the building since Dax bought the lot next to it."

"Oh. Well... how much does it cost?" He stands up and starts putting his clothes back on too, making me frown when his long sleeved shirt covers all of his tattoos.

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it. I'll pay for it."

"What if I want to?"

"It's $500 a month."

His face changes almost instantly. His eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen. "Jesus f*****g Christ. That's more than my rent. That much for a bedroom?"

"And everything in it. We tell him what we want it to look like as far as walls, flooring, color scheme goes. Then we give him a list of toys and things that we want, and he gets Dimitri to put it all together." I explain while finishing up getting dressed.

Mateo sighs and sits on my bed with a little frown. "What if we don't have a playroom?"

"There's a public room that's a bit bigger that doms and subs can play in if they don't have a room, but other people could see and exhibitionism is a limit of mine."

"I can try to work double shifts at the shop then?" He offers.

He's a mechanic. He already works enough though. I don't want him to lessen our time together to pay for something I'm totally able to afford.

I roll my eyes and walk over to climb into his lap, straddling his waist. "I said you don't have to worry about it. I can pay for it. It's not a big deal."

"The other doms will think I'm not good for you if I can't even pay for our room."

"The other doms don't get a say in what's good for me. They all tossed me aside for prettier subs as soon as they got what they wanted from me. You're the only one who hasn't, so you're already better for me than they were. I'll pay for the room."

He puts his hands on my waist and pouts. "Fine."

"I'm serious, Mateo. Please don't work double shifts. I'll never get to see you."

"Okay. Okay. I won't." He assures me, sticking out his pinkie.

I move mine forward. But he pulls his back and puckers his lips while wiggling his eyebrows. I laugh softly and press my lips against his, feeling him hook our pinkies together.

The kiss gets hotter and hotter as he pushes his tongue in my mouth and reaches his hand up to wrap around my neck. He doesn't squeeze at all, but he uses his slight grip to pull me closer, making me moan.

I pull away and climb off of him before it can get more intense. "Let me put my contacts in and then we can go."

I start walking towards the bathroom, but he quickly grabs my wrist and starts pulling me to the door. "Keep the glasses on. I like them."

"I don't wear them out."

"Why not?"

"They're dorky." I admit, but I let him pull me out of the house, stopping to lock the door before starting our walk down the street.

"They're not." He argues.

We keep walking, and he never lets the conversation die out or get boring. He talks to me about his family. He's got 5 sisters and they're all younger than him. They all live with his abuela because his parents passed away a few years ago.

I like that he trusts me enough to tell me things that are dangerous for people to know. Like how his grandmother is undocumented and that's why he's worried that if he falls off the wagon again that the police might find out.

I tell him more about myself as well. We talk about how my adoptive parents spent a lot of time trying to get me better after I started doing drugs again. They died when I was 17 and I had to go back into foster care for a year.

That was the year I fell off again. I tell him that the reason I have all this money is because they left everything to me.

I tell him about how guilty I feel. I feel like a fraud. Those people only knew me for 2 years and for some reason they thought I was important enough to leave everything to? I don't think I earned their love, much less their inheritance.

"They saw something in you that made them want to take care of you. I see it too, Wenn. You deserve to be loved."

I smile at him and stop walking so that I can kiss him gently. I turn to the right and gesture to the sign.

This place is very discreet. From the outside it looks like an all black warehouse. There's no windows and the sign doesn't even light up. It just says "The Closet" in small letters.

"Here we are. Welcome to paradise."