And happen again it did.
A few days later, a few sleepless nights later, Martín found a way to be alone with Andrés again, sneaking into his room and refusing to hear any protestation.
"You know what I thought when I first saw you?" Martín asks. "I thought I'd fuck this man." He never thought it would be that difficult though.
"No." Andrés says.
"I know…" There is no way Andrés is ready for that. No homo… "Don't wor-"
"I am fucking you"
And it does happen, even though Andrés hesitates in the end. He doesn't want to hurt Martín, but Martín makes him understand not doing it would be much worse. He braces himself for pain. He is not ready but he has never been readier when Andrés is lying on top of him, between his legs, when Andrés' cock pushes against him.
"I want you" Andrés says. It is worth it just for this. Martín gives himself. They both gasp when he breaches him and Martín's thighs twitch. Andrés has never seen that much emotion on Martín's face. Martín has never seen that much arousal on Andrés' face. Even though this gesture means differently to them, they want it to go through. If one - probably Martín - is hurt, or one regrets - Andrés - it, so be it.
"I…'ve never"
Martín just caresses Andrés' back in reassurance. Of course he knows. He hates that he has fucked women, so many of them. He loves being the first, though if there had been another one it would reassure him that Andrés really likes it.
"It's great. You're great"
Praise always helps. Even when he knows it isn't true. He is probably hurting him, and he has no idea how to thrust nor how to pleasure a man. He has no idea the very fact he is staring into Martín's face and not thinking of anything else is Martín's deepest fantasy. And makes him smug enough to taunt.
"Do your little wives," he starts, cruel in the use of plural. "Do they do that? For you? Can you just open them and…?"
Andrés huffs. Of course not. Women want decorum, and he's too traditional to inflict his darker desire on a wife.
"Are they into that?" Martín insists
"Nah they're not" he replies, as if an answer was needed. Martín thinks of course not. Maybe he gives a facial or a facefuck to some whore he pays, post divorce or, uglily, on the side. He is on the side. Martín is the mistress, the dirty secret, the pitiful guy into a very married man, the one you can fuck however you like, cum in and on and…
"So tight…" he says, as an excuse for the fact that despite his misgivings he is losing control, his balls drawing back and his thrusts messier. He feels like a teen. He hates it, but it feels good. Martín's cock is hard against his belly and he rubs against it.
"How… where?..." He still finds it rather humiliating for a guy to be taken, and it makes Martín puff. But the idea that Andrés is close is exhilarating.
"Martín Martín" he can't say anything else.
"I know" Martín whispers, and Andrés hates that he knows. "Go slow, handsome. Take your time."
He shouldn't have praised him again, because even though the other man absolutely knows how good looking he is, it almost pushes him off the edge hearing it from a male voice. There is no way he can slow down, so he whines.
"Let go, then." the Argentinean reassures him that all is well. "For me." It is obvious this won't help.
"I love you" he thinks as he cums, and he realizes only later he has said it. Even if he didn't realize, Martín's burning gaze would prove it. He seeks Martín's mouth to silence himself. Martín doesn't want to believe it is just something he said cumming and doesn't mean, a treat thrown to a good partner. He needs to believe it is real.
It does hurt when Andrés removes himself - not immediately, he loves that. The post cum disgust is a real thing when a guy wasn't really into it, turning away, leaving immediately, but there is no sign of it. They look at each other.
"I thought of it, you know," Andrés offers up, maybe an excuse for coming so quick and still out of breath. Martín wonders if he has jerked off imagining it, or if he needs it to stay hard with women, and how much he despises it, despises himself. Martín really hates Tatiana. It sucks because she's a great girl, and so, so not responsible of this. He likes her and it makes him her hate more. She can sleep next to him, wake up next to him, kiss him in public and no one bats an eyelash. But he gets to make him cum like crazy. His cock twitches at the thought.
Andrés looks down to Martín's hard cock. He isn't quite ready to give himself that way, not quite mentally and physically open enough. He can't help grazing against this pretty dick - Martín's, incredible - caressing it. He wonders what he would do if he was a woman. It doesn't help. He doesn't feel quite womanly have just emptied himself into Martín. He gasps at the idea.
"Do whatever you want, Andrés. Do what you would want done to you…" Martín is right, of course. Andrés ponders that beautiful mouth, much too warm and wet and experimented. He hates all the men, all the others… But he is right, and he starts massaging and jerking, concentrating on the tip then discovering and exploring, following Martín's moans. It is much too intimate to do what he would enjoy yet he has been - he has cum - inside Martín… It is only fair to reciprocate and give of himself. The best - the worst - is that he wants to.
"This is so beautiful…" he says without thinking. At least he didn't say Martín's cock. But when he leans in, a better man would tell him he doesn't have to. Martín is not such a man. He says nothing that may be a hindrance and he almost explodes at the sight and feel of Andrés there. "Querido" Andrés says, kissing the tip. It leaks and fascinated he licks it. Fucking a hole is one thing, sucking and swallowing is something else. There is no way Andrés will be able to claim it doesn't work. Because he is hard, and pushes his dick into Martín's leg as if to prove him.
"It will be quick" is all the other says, warning and promise, and Andrés just suckles stronger. Emotion or overstimulation, tears fall down when Martín comes harder than ever before, his hand as gentle as he can in the other man's hair. He doesn't tell him to spit, but he doesn't suggest not doing it either. He cannot believe it, Andrés is swallowing and doesn't immediately remove himself. He licks him clean first, or something like that. This might be enough to get hard again, but it stops soon. Andrés says nothing before he reaches for Martín and kisses him hard, opening an empty mouth - he has swallowed and is showing it off - but still tasting like him. "Martín…" They both know he will not pretend this is a mistake.