The Attraction Of David

Chapter 3

Sunday. The day when I should take my well-deserved rest. The most workable thing to do, always, was that. Maybe if rest was not, then it could’ve been other things. Cleaning my room, going to the gym, even walking Daytona around the neighborhood. Doing my brother’s Divine Comedy essay could've been a part of my typical Sunday, if only I was not preoccupied by what’s about to happen tonight. That being said, I have lots of other things to consider that would shake boredom away from my mind whenever Sunday’s rest was not in line.

But here I was, with the mixed feeling of uncertainty and excitement coursing through my vein. My thoughts were racing. I was here, inside the elevator of a 25 story condo building. I had only myself and my backpack, with clothes and condoms inside. When the door opened on the 16th floor, I exited and took a sharp breath. This was it.

I never knew that uncertainty and excitement were such a dangerous combination. It made me reckless and selfish.

I knew this was not how my usual Sundays, go. Usually Sundays don’t involve gushing over a man, going to his place, and readily using part of my savings to splurge on s*x. This was a desperation Sanday. A Sunday wherein my desperation for s*x made me do something I have never done before. Desperate and thoughtless, I inched forward.

Room 1603 B. I took my time walking, trying to detach the feeling of apprehension from my exhilarated mind. Breathe in, breathe out, walk. Breathe in, breathe out, walk. Indeed, I really took my time, looking at each door I passed by. His door was at the farthest side of the floor, which I was thankful for. It gave me just enough time to stall.

Stalling for what exactly, David?

Either way, I was nearing his condo unit. It was too late to make sense of everything at this point. I was just a couple of meters away, and Stan knew exactly that I will arrive any moment from now. What’s figuring out when I already travelled all the way here and provided my details at the reception? I should’ve contemplated right before I have gone to this building. If it wasn’t for the sordidness that I fostered for that man, I wouldn’t bother.

All I ever thought about earlier today were all the things Stan and I would do together, and at this moment, what I just had to do was ring the doorbell, to know if what I was imagining earlier, would finally be a reality.

I buzzed on the doorbell and never had been the 20 seconds of waiting the longest seconds of my life. The sounds of the lock clicking and the door opening made me step back. And when Stan had presented himself right in front of me, I’ve realized that I have chosen the right decision all along.

“Hi, what took you so long?” he asked, a delighted sound laced in his baritone voice.

I didn’t know if it was the lighting, but standing a few feet away from him was enough to know how good-looking he was. He was looking straight at my face, and all I could mutter was sorry. He moved back, so the door was wide open and gestured for me to come on in.

I did. What else could I even f*****g do at that point? I got in first, slightly brushing my shoulder against his chest. I caught a whiff of his scent; he smelled so damn good. He smelled clean, like minty and freshly showered. He smelled like how every man should be to become desirable.

I heard the door locked. I moved forward to distance myself from him and looked back in his direction, after spacing myself a couple of feet away. His arms were crossed, showing how defined his muscles were. My mind didn’t know what to process first. Everything about what I was seeing right before my eyes was too much. He was exquisitely good-looking. More so than what I had expected based solely on the pictures I have seen.

“Nervous?” amusement was clear in his query. “You were taller than I expected,” Stan commented.

I followed his gaze, where his eyes were looking at. He first stared at my eyes, and then down to my lips, then to my body, sizing me up, checking me out. He was f*****g tall, that even though I am 5’9, he looked so much larger.

My mouth went dry at that point. “Yes, kinda. You... are really good-looking.” It was finally my turn.

I openly checked him out, losing half of my self-control at this point. I didn’t know if it still influenced him, as he might have heard that comment plenty of times throughout his life, but I meant it. He seemed to appreciate the fact that I was taking him all in with my eyes. I knew Angels will weep upon seeing him. His impeccable, manly appearance utterly beguiled me.

He nodded, “I know, I hear that quite a lot,” he drawled. It was the answer that I was expecting from someone as good-looking as he was. “But, look at you, though. I can tell you the same thing.”

His eyes were roaming around, that every part of my skin that he had laid his stare at felt tingly. It felt like his gaze was slowly burning holes in my skin. A beautiful pair of brown eyes, a prominent nose, stubbled chin and jaw. A dangerous mixture of everything I always have craved for in my wildest dreams.

I had to turn around to avoid meeting his stare. It was far too much for me to handle. “You’ve got a nice pad,” I said as casually as I could.

My apprehension grew as I realized that he really was real. Not a scam, not a catfish. He was one hell of a real man; sexy and striking.

“You think so?” he said. I followed him down the hall to the living area.

It was a very simple set-up. Stan had a large flat-screen mounted on the wall, a long, black sofa situated just opposite its direction. Half of the floor was carpeted, and the kitchen was just on the other side, with a counter that serves as the dining area. It was very minimalist and clean.

I looked back at him, and when I did, he was leaning against the wall, smiling, his eyes directed on to my backside. He was still staring me down, and it was making me jittery. He was shameless, and all I knew was how good he looked against the wall, his arms still crossed.

It was my turn. I took the time to scrutinize him. He was wearing casual clothes. A moss green shirt, a pair of acid-washed jeans that were snuggly fitted around his long legs, and barefoot. His face was just as good as his body. His shoulders were amazing, down to his swelling biceps. He looked like he worked hard to achieve that. His position was enough to show the white waistband of his underwear, showing a peek of thin hair on his navel.

“Easy with staring, feels like you’re about to pounce on me,” he said, not moving his body, but grinning.

I cleared my throat. f*****g hell, get a grip, David. “Where can I place my bag down?” I asked, averting my gaze from meeting with his, and looked back at the living room. I thought it hypnotized me, that I really felt like jumping at him. Goddamn.

“Just there, at the sofa,” he said. Before I knew, his arm was around my shoulders, guiding me towards the seat. His arm was heavy and hard.

I sat down on the leathered cushion and took my bag off. He was a few feet away from me, still standing, staring down at me. He was not even near my skin, yet the palpable sensation of his touch was already forefront in my mind as I looked at his enormous hands. Visions of how it roamed around my body were running relentlessly In my subconscious as I removed my jacket.

“Need a drink? You look really nervous,” he offered, moving towards the kitchen to grab a bottle.

“Yes, water will do, thank you” I answered. I had to acknowledge how nice he was.

Stan walked back to the living room, carrying a bottle of Jack and two glasses with cubed ice. He sat down between the wooden table and the couch, just a foot or two away from me. I probably looked like I was hyperventilating at that moment, and I did what I could to muster enough amount of confidence to look him straight in the eyes, after he placed the empty glass in front of me.

“It’s just me, don’t be nervous. It’s just the two of us here,” he said, or even whispered.

I didn’t even get to know how it sounded like; I knew it sounded too primal, with all the pictures of his face and body conjured by my mind.

I once again looked at him. God, he looked better than before. “I don’t really drink much, but I appreciate the gesture. Water will really do.”

He started pouring liquid on my glass, then to his. “You don’t drink much, I see. But it looks like you badly needed one, your hands are shaking. Water won’t do, drink this instead.”

I looked down at my hands. Were they that obvious? I did not even realize that I was quivering. “I think it’s kind of cold in your place, is the AC on?”

He grabbed his glass and took the Jack. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not even wincing at the alcohol he took. He shook his head at me.

“What? Seriously, the AC is not even on. Are you sure you’re okay?” he queried, sounding enlivened by my excuse.

He knew exactly what effect he had on me, and I knew he enjoyed it. It was clear on his countenance that my agitation thoroughly amused him. He was smirking slyly at me after I said that I was feeling cold.

“I’m really nervous, sorry. I was not expecting that... you know, you’re going to be much better looking in person.”

I took the glass he handed me. I don’t really drink that much, but the edge I was feeling was enough to make me have this one. I knew that I f*****g needed one. I gulped the Jack, and Jack infiltrated my sense of taste like no other. The trail of liquid felt as if it abraded my throat like a motherfucker.

I winced at the liquid I just took. “God, don’t people usually mix this with Coke?”

Stan chuckled at my actions. “Yes, but I don’t have Coke in my fridge. It’s unhealthy.”

I looked at him again. Yes, he looked healthy. His reddish complexion shown how much he must’ve taken care of his body. He took his glass and poured another drink.

“So, before all, you know how much it is, right?” he asked. Obviously, he meant if I knew how much getting laid’s going to cost.

“Yeah, I have it here. Do you need it now?” I answered and took all that was left in my glass, ignoring the potency and strong taste of the liquor. “I must say you’re expensive. And seeing you now, no wonder,” I’d let out a self-depreciating chuckle.

He chuckled back. “Like what I said, prescription nowadays is not so cheap.”

Yeah, it f*****g burned a hole in my pocket. I thought about saying that, but uttered, “yeah, I know.”

“Need another one?” he asked and took the bottle, filling our glasses half full, even before I’d get the chance to answer.

I looked at the glass, then looked back at him. Why does he have to smile like the way he f*****g does right now? It was making him look much more irresistible. I wanted to complain about how much he poured for me to consume, but instead, I took two gulps just to look impressive. God, it stung my throat. I wiped my lips with the back of my mouth.

“I don’t want to get drunk,” I said afterwards, feeling the burn of liquor coursing down my stomach.

“You’re kidding me, you’re only on your second shot,” he raised an eyebrow. “I will not get you drunk, don’t worry.”

The liquid I took was having its effect grow on me. I was not even on my third drink and it already buzzed me up.

“Uh, what should we do? Like, what can I expect from you?” I asked.

“I must ask, what do you like to do with me?” he casually answered with a question “Or rather, what would you like for us to do?”

I knew exactly what I wanted to do with him. I looked at his beautiful face that still had that smug smirk, and I knew, yes, that I badly wanted to do him. I took another gulp of Jack; the taste getting better than earlier. My heartbeat felt steadier, but my pulse was not calming down. The alcohol seemed to have affected my s****l desire even more.

Calm the f**k down, it’s too early for that. “I think I want to talk to you first, about you. We hardly know each other,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow, and this time, grinned. His teeth were impressively white. “Yeah, before I forget, let me introduce myself. I’m Lucas Stanley Rodriguez, 28,” he offered a hand.

I cleared my throat and took his hand for a shake. “I’m David Earl Start, 26, it’s nice being here at your place.”

“Start, is that an American surname? I assume you’re part Caucasian?” he queried.

“My grandfather is, my father’s half Caucasian, I guess I’m not as white as Caucasian goes anymore.”

The way he looked at me felt like he, instead, would rather me under him right at that moment, than talk about anything any longer. If it was all in my head and it was just me, getting too far ahead of myself, then I didn’t really care. One way or another, that will inevitably happen tonight, and I’m so damn sure I will f*****g relish every single moment of it. I could blame it on the alcohol, but I sure was hell surmounted by my cravings for this beautiful man.

“You look younger than 26, are you sure you’re of legal age? I don’t want to get in trouble,” he joked. “I’m glad you’re loosening up, no pun intended,” he even followed.

“Yeah, seems like Jack has a way of doing it.” There was a pause between us.

I said nothing, nor did he after that. There always had been no point in knowing everything about someone before s*x is about to happen. I learned that consent seemed to be the only thing that should be talked about before hooking up. Dilly-dallying, as they said around here, kills the vibe.

The coldness I have felt earlier, finally, had translated into heat. I was past my 3rd glass of Jack that Stan had generously poured in my glass. I looked up at him, and he was looking straight at me. The more I drank, the more I craved for him. It was inebriation that made me so provocative, and I felt like I was being too sordid, inappropriate with the way my heated stare lingered at him.

I leaned my head on the couch, not breaking eye contact with him. “You are very attractive, I know you are aware of that. And I already said it earlier, anyway. Sorry if I kept on looking at you.” I licked my bottom lip.

I have never been as sexually aroused as I was right at this moment. I knew my jeans were straining to contain the erection I was sporting. My legs were wide open, inviting.

“Look at me as much as you wanted to, I’m thoroughly enjoying the attention.”

“You’re really hot, Stan,” I chuckled. “God, you’re sexy.”

“You’re hard,” he said, his voice, husky. “When was the last time you had s*x?” he asked. A bead of sweat was forming on his sideburns, and his neck was glistening. Marks of perspiration were on the front of his shirt.

“I don’t know, I can’t even remember. 2 years, I guess?” I languidly answered and shook my head. “So you could tell by now why I was eager to spend, just to have a night with someone so attractive like you,” I half-heartedly chortled again, spilling the truth.

“Really, how come?” he whispered so softly, that I could’ve mistaken it as nothing else if it wasn’t for how near he was to me.

He inched himself forward, leaning his head back and looking in my direction. His breath was hitting my neck, and the more it did, the less control I could pluck out. I was losing my sense of control, every single f*****g iota of it.

“I’d bet a lot of men wanted to f**k with you, David. They must’ve imagined you naked on their bed, with that nice body of yours. Do you like kissing a lot?”

My heartbeat spiked, and my breath was caught in my chest. I was getting delirious. “I don’t know,” I answered. I slightly drew backward, trying to distance myself, even just a bit.

The heat he radiated and the smell he has were too potent, too powerful, to the point where I needed a bit of space. It opened me up to him, my erection in full view, cradled on top of my left leg underneath my pants. I was so hard it hurts.

“I enjoy kissing, David. Kissing hard, sucking on the tongue, and biting on the lips. Have you had that experience before?” he asked again. He knew what he was doing. What effect his words had. And he was pleased with it.

“Yes, I guess,” I answered, breathless, unsure.

“I also like it when the lips are reddish, and yours are like that.”

I looked at him. He was pouring himself another drink, and as he did, I got enough time to look down his pants. A thick slab of hardness was resting on top of his leg. He was as hard as I was. His face was still the same as how I have seen it earlier, but his complexion was redder. I aroused him. He took the drink he poured for himself in a single go.

His breathing was as labored as mine. Sweat was forming inside my shirt, and my pulse was racing faster and faster. I was getting drunk, not just with Jack, but also in s****l anticipation.

“Yours are, too. God, your muscles are glorious, Stan. I want you, the moment you have sent me your photos.”

“I wanted to f**k you the moment I have seen your photos, god you made me so hard when you called me.”

Jesus Christ. My d**k twitched with what he said. He must’ve noticed the expletive I had whispered, making him smirk.

“Ask me what other things I like.”

“What... other things do you like, Stanley?” I asked, the thin strip of patience left in me, about to dissolve any moment from now. I opened my eyes and stared at him. He was staring back at me, the smug grin he had now gone. The facade he had earlier was non-existent, and it bared his primal, s****l side that he was holding in.

“I like,” he crept towards me, “handsome men,” then placed his hand around my nape, “who call me Stanley.”

Before I could utter anything, he leaned towards me, pulling my face in for a searing kiss, the kind where the tongue was inside my mouth, enough to take any words that were supposed to come out.