2: The Passion of the Cruel Doctor Frost
—Dejvice, Prague, December 2012—
Simon showered for the second time and cleaned the apartment. Then he didn’t want to look like an OCD patient so he intentionally left one glass and a plate on the counter top. As if it made him less of a freak. The clenching in his gut and the need to take a deliberate deep breath every second minute had accompanied him constantly for the past few days. It was exhausting. Breaking all the rules of propriety he was taught at home, he opened a bottle of Pinot and switched on the TV. His guest wouldn’t care.
When Matěj arrived a few minutes later carrying two pizza boxes, he only cast an amused look toward the TV set.
“You drink white wine while watching a game? Figures.”
“I like basketball and I like wine.” Simon shrugged.
“Hope you like pizza.” Matěj smiled, balancing the boxes on his tattooed arm.
“Everybody likes pizza.”
“True. And this is not just any pizza. I bought these on my way here at the Italian place two blocks down. The guy there is a wizard.”
Simon knew the restaurant. It was a posh Italian bistro, delicious and overpriced. Matěj was a student. There was no way Simon was letting him pay five hundred crowns for their dinner. He reached for his wallet, fingering the notes there.
“What are you doing?”
Simon lifted his head and started at the scowl on Matěj’s face.
“You’re a student, don’t be foolish…” But before he could even pull out the notes Matěj stopped him with a loud snort.
“It’s not like I can’t afford a pizza, for fuck’s sake. You can pay next time.” He pivoted on his sock-clad feet, not waiting for an answer. “Kitchen’s this way?” He disappeared through the door.
Simon followed slowly, annoyed and intrigued at the same time. Next time? Halfway there, he realized he’d forgotten his wine and went back for it. He figured he’d need it. In the kitchen, he found Matěj going through his cabinets with enthusiasm. To Simon’s surprise it didn’t feel nosey. Why?
“Man, you’ve got a great kitchen!” Matěj found two glasses, filled them with water and put them on the table. Then he opened the fridge and bent to eye the contents. “Hope you have beer. There it is… Red Dragon? Nothing else?” He was fluttering around in the tiny space like a butterfly. Simon could only watch, dumbfounded.
Matěj placed the beers on the table and put one hand on his waist, observing the kitchen counter appreciatively. He smoothed one palm over the dark granite and the ceramic stove. He even crouched down and looked at the oven closely.
“Pure beauty and spotless just like your work shirts. Don’t you ever cook here or are you such a neat freak?”
“A little bit of both.”
“You can’t have a kitchen like this and not cook. It’s unnatural.”
“You cook?”
Matěj waggled his eyebrows, smirking. “Hell, yes, I am an alchemist!” He plopped down on a chair, opening a box. “But today it’s pizza.” He pulled out a piece and tilted his head toward Simon. “You’re going to stand there and stare?”
Simon shook his head, smiling. He looked at the beer bottle on the table and at the wine glass he still held. Oh, what the hell… He downed the wine, put the glass on the counter and sat down. “Smells delicious.”
“It is. You have quattro formaggio. This one is buffalo mozzarella and rucola.”
“Can I have some of both?”
“Sharing was the plan.” Matěj smiled and took a large bite.
“No meat?”
Matěj chewed quickly and mumbled something with his mouth full. It sounded like “hedge aria.”
Simon lifted his eyebrows. “You’re a vegetarian?”
“Yeah. What?” Another giant bite.
“Nothing.” Simon watched him eat, marveling at his appetite. Wow, Matěj could appreciate food. A vegetarian. Go figure. Simon filed the information together with the rest of the random trivia he’d already collected about Matěj.
***
“How did you know? Somebody told you?” Simon finally asked when one of the pizza boxes was empty and the other held the last three pieces.
“No… It took a while. I wasn’t sure. But then I caught you staring in the cafeteria a few days ago.”
You did? “You didn’t even look my way.”
“Simon, there is a giant mirror behind the counter. I saw you as clearly as I can see you now.”
“Oh…” The stream of embarrassment was never-ending. Simon’s neck felt hot, his one ear burned, the scarred one itched. He lifted his hand to tug at it but stopped himself mid-air. The tugging was his usual nervous gesture which only drew attention to his mangled earlobe. Simon had been trying to get rid of the annoying habit for the past twenty-five years, and it only made him more nervous. Jesus, he was a mess.
Matěj took a drink of his beer, calmly observing Simon’s twitching.
Simon cleared his throat. “And before?” he asked.
Matěj shrugged. “You’re not easy. I liked you so I watched you, but you were like a damn fortress. You give very little away. As a person, I mean. I bet your friends are frustrated they don’t know you well enough to actually call you their friend.”
Simon gaped.
“So, last spring, in the seminar, I made you my project. To figure out The Cruel Doctor Frost.”
“They really call me that?”
“Yes. The Cruel Earless Doctor Frost, sometimes.”
“Shit, you punks are mean.” Simon sighed and shook his head. “That’s why you were so damn shameless all the time?”
“I admit I tried to get a reaction out of you.”
“I knew, I just didn’t know if you did it with everyone.”
“But you didn’t even twitch a muscle!”
He didn’t? He had better self-control than he thought. “I liked it.” Simon admitted, looking down at his last slice of pizza.
“Me being rude?”
“You weren’t rude. You’re clever and funny. Frankly, it’s refreshing.”
“Okay.” Matěj looked dubious.
“I wouldn’t have tolerated you disrupting the lectures, but you behaved when it was necessary to concentrate. You never crossed the line. I never had a reason to call you on it.”
Still unsure, Matěj scratched at the label on his beer bottle. It was the first time Simon had seen him looking flustered. “I saw you looking at me… Sometimes you looked pissed.”
“I was frustrated, not pissed,” Simon said quietly. “I was clearly attracted to you and wasn’t allowed to do anything about it.” It was strange, but admitting his weakness aloud made Simon relax.
“Now you can.” The mischief and confidence were back. It seemed Matěj was used to accepting compliments about his appearance but not his mind. The realization made Simon sad.
“Yeah, now I can.”
***
An hour later, Simon wiped the table down and put the empty pizza boxes on the floor next to the bin. He found Matěj in the living room, second beer bottle in hand, staring at the contents of Simon’s giant bookcase.
Simon watched in silence as the man tilted his head reading the titles, unaware of Simon’s presence in the room. There were Hrabal, John Irving and Henry James directly in front of Matěj’s nose. Simon heard him mumble something indistinct, probably a curse word, and then a whispered, “Oh, boy,” as he continued his tour of Simon’s personal library. He stopped again, eyeing Feynman’s lectures and The Brief History of Time, chuckled at The Portable Henry Rollins, and ran his fingers over the collection of battered Terry Pratchett paperbacks.
Upon seeing the gentle movements of Matěj’s hand over his books, Simon took the few remaining steps forward. He put an arm around Matěj’s chest from behind, trapping his upper body, and bent down to bury his nose in Matěj’s hair. He closed his eyes on an inhale and breathed out heavily against the warm smooth skin on Matěj’s neck. He breathed in. And out. He found himself in a dreamland.
Matěj hummed. “You sure are a nerd,” he said with his gaze still on the books, voice low.
“Mmhm.” Not really an answer but it would have to do. Simon’s lips were too busy to articulate properly. He kissed his way from behind the man’s ear down his neck toward the top of his right shoulder but the collar of the stupid T-shirt got in the way. He felt Matěj shudder a little, and a smug grin took over his face. Good. But then… Matěj turned abruptly, clasping Simon’s neck with the tattooed hand, and suddenly Simon was stumbling through his apartment backward, his arms trapped in his shirt.
Exactly how he found himself half-naked and spread-eagled on his bed was a mystery. When did he lose the upper hand? Oh right, he’d never had it. What the hell was wrong with him? The feel of Matěj’s lips and tongue on his chest… Wherever this was headed, Simon didn’t want to stop it. Well, except—
Simon wanted so much. He couldn’t remember feeling like this for a very long time. Maybe ever. However, judging by Matěj’s behavior so far, their expectations seemed incompatible. Not good. Simon feared the looming compromise would be an awful turn-off. He should have known. He could hold his mouth shut and hope for the best, but that hadn’t worked out well for him in the past. Better to be upfront in the beginning and spare himself awkward negotiations with his pants already around his ankles. You idiot, stop overthinking everything, it’s just sex. Potentially great sex.
“Matěj,” he tried. He heard an answering low hum. Matěj crawled up the bed, nestling between Simon’s thighs, putting his elbows next to Simon’s head, caging him in. He stared down at Simon in earnest, illuminated only by the light spilling in through the door from the living room. Simon looked up, his lips parted, breathing choppy; he felt the weight of another body on his, and the rightness of it made him aware of how lonely he had let himself become. Why was he so emotional? He was never emotional, damn it! The man above him… Suddenly Simon couldn’t remember why they should pause.
“What is it?” Matěj whispered, his fingers stroking Simon’s mauled ear, unblinking eyes flicking between his. Simon didn’t want him to leave.
“I usually don’t bottom well.” Simon sped through the confession on a rugged exhale.
Against all odds, Matěj answered with a smile. “We can do whatever you want.” Matěj saw Simon’s expression, and his grin faded. He put a gentle kiss on Simon’s upper lip and nuzzled his jaw. He spoke low, directly in Simon’s ear. “What do you want, Simon?” He spoke to him as if to a virgin. It was just as well because right then, Simon felt like one. It was not a good feeling. Matěj kissed the scarred earlobe and grazed Simon’s neck with his teeth. He was perfect—smelled, tasted, and felt perfect. Simon’s inner protests faltered in the face of all this perfection.
“How long has it been?” Matěj whispered against Simon’s throat.
Now, that’s very imperfect. And since what? Since the last time Simon had sex with a man or since he last bottomed? He squeezed his eyes shut. Why did it always have to be so damn complicated? Who did whom and how… “Six months or five years, depends on what you’re asking.”
Matěj groaned. “Oh, shit, Simon, you…” He didn’t finish whatever he was going to say. He kissed Simon instead, wet and deep, and fumbled with their jeans. He’d obviously taken Simon’s confession as a challenge. Crap. Simon should stop this. I don’t want to stop.
Within seconds, Simon was buck-ass naked while Matěj’s open jeans still hung around his hips. There were warm hands on Simon’s waist, his hips, grabbing his bare ass cheeks. If he wasn’t sure about this, why did he kiss back feverishly, his tongue deep in Matěj’s mouth, tangling, sucking, biting at his lips? He should stop. Instead, he grabbed Matěj’s hair and pressed his whole body closer, diving deeper. This was wrong, this was too much—
Tearing his mouth away, Simon squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw.
Matěj kneeled and smoothed his hands over Simon’s chest. “Simon, tell me.” A kiss on Simon’s breastbone. “What do you want?”
And Simon let go. Matěj could read him and cared. Much more than most of Simon’s former lovers had done. There hadn’t been many. Simon tried not to dwell on the embarrassing and disturbing fact the younger man was by far the more experienced of them both.
He buried his fingers in Matěj’s hair again and dragged him closer for another hungry kiss. “Want you to fuck me,” he mumbled against those delicious lips. It wasn’t how he’d imagined their first night together. Nevertheless, deep down, it was what he wanted, what he craved. If this was a one-night stand—and he couldn’t imagine any kind of future for them—then he wanted everything, all the way, none of his usual restraint and wariness. The attraction he felt toward the man currently in his bed was unprecedented. He’d want to remember this, to savor this, even feel it the next day.
Matěj pinned him down while he traced the line from the dip between Simon’s clavicles, over his sternum and toward his navel. Simon felt Matěj’s tongue in the groove between his left hip and underbelly, and he bit back a moan. When Matěj licked him from base to crown, there was no way Simon could stay silent.
“Wow,” Matěj sighed just before he took Simon’s cock in his mouth. In Simon’s head, something pulled on the safety switch. Everything went dark and blurry. Turned off. Finally. After decades of constant buzzing, writhing, regrouping, and clashing, the processes in Simon’s brain limped and then halted entirely. His consciousness became a warm black cave where only a few broken words echoed around in the vast empty space. Words like more, please and yes. Time was nonexistent.
He barely noticed Matěj repositioning, and then felt a finger push inside; it grazed his prostate, and Simon’s legs jerked. He was going to come. No, no, no. Not yet. Please, not yet. He didn’t know if he said it out loud or if Matěj just felt his plea, but he slowed down, caressing, soothing. He helped Simon to turn around, and before Simon could begin feeling insecure and exposed on his hands and knees staring blindly at the headboard, he felt Matěj’s tongue there, and his arms gave out under him. His head sank into the pillow, his hands fisted the sheets, he was lost. There were too many sensations to keep track of—Matěj’s hands massaging his thighs, lower back, and ass cheeks, the long, thievish fingers circling his cock, the warm, wet mouth…
“Stop me anytime.”
Simon had no idea what Matěj was talking about. By the time he felt the mattress shift and heard the crackle of plastic, Simon was a heap of senseless want. There was fear for sure, but it was a different kind of fear. Kind of like he felt before he pushed off the edge on a steep slope when he was skiing—the fear which came just before the exhilarating rush.
Simon registered the burning pain somewhere in a forgotten corner of his mind, but it faded as fast as it came, and it was nothing in comparison to everything else he experienced. This is how it’s supposed to feel, he thought, this is why people do it. A strangled sob escaped him, and he bit the pillow. Matěj’s hands soothed over his hips, back, and torso, and he felt chaste kisses on his spine, the gentle touch a striking contradiction to the burn and fullness inside him.
“I’ve wanted you for ages.” Matěj’s voice changed, so deep it was alien. “Simon…” It vibrated through Simon’s body making him even more aware of their connection just as their surroundings faded. Simon pressed back, and the answering moan would have made him smile if he were able to do such a thing.
Matěj moved slow and languid, making Simon writhe under him. His hands never stopped stroking Simon’s skin in gestures which were strangely assessing. All the time he was silently, discreetly checking whether Simon was okay. Unbelievable. “You’ve got a runner’s body. I can tell.” He paused as he seemed to struggle with his breathing. “So…real. Flawless.” Simon reached behind and dug his fingers in Matěj’s thigh, urging him on.
“Tell me you’ll let me do this again,” Matěj bit out, his voice full of restraint.
Simon managed a muted answer. “Yes.” They were definitely doing this again. The second “yes” was only a hiss, but Matěj heard enough. He sped up and reached for Simon’s erection. His thrusts became impossibly deep and hard, like blows against Simon’s spine, but instead of growing tense under the assault, Simon’s body opened even more. Relaxed and pliant, he could barely hold himself on elbows and knees. Every muscle in his body sighed with relief, and the ecstasy came long before his actual orgasm. His mind blank, he didn’t have to focus and chase the pleasure like he used to with other lovers. It washed over him, overwhelming him, changing him. The tingles spread from somewhere near his tailbone, engulfing his whole lower body, and his asshole started pulsing around the intrusion. Simon fell apart.
Any other time with anybody else, Simon would have been ashamed of the loud shout he couldn’t hold back. Right then, he didn’t give a shit. Not when he felt Matěj behind him, biting the muscles on Simon’s back with abandon, chasing his own orgasm, coming a minute later. They collapsed on the bed. Simon registered he landed chest first in his own sticky stain. Too late. He couldn’t make himself care for that either.
He was still riding a peculiar high when he turned to find Matěj lying on his side, propped on his elbow, grinning smugly. Simon hid his face in the pillow under Matěj’s chin and chuckled. He’d just had a man kiss and lick his ass. He’d always suspected people only really did it in porn. And he’d let a man fuck him for the first time in five years. It felt insanely good. So good, he already wanted to do it again. Even if it’d mean he’d have to take laxatives for a week. Fuck it! His libido had awoken with a slap, and it craved things. There was more to be explored, more pleasures to be found, a whole new dimension of them, Simon was sure of it.
Was this their second date? Oh, the devil down underneath, whose life was this?
Matěj’s palm felt warm and reassuring on Simon’s neck. “What’s so funny, Doc?”
“Me,” Simon said truthfully and shook his head again.
Matěj lifted his chin and kissed him. It was not enough. Nothing would ever be enough again. “How do you feel?” Matěj asked.
Grateful was the first word that invaded Simon’s mind, but he couldn’t say it. Simon didn’t know the scared, confused Catholic boy was still hidden inside him. The boy who believed some parts of his body and some ways to touch them were inherently wrong. Who thought the things he sometimes dreamt about were tarnishing him, that he was a walking, talking mistake. In what could have been a mere twenty minutes, Matěj had changed him. Simon felt relieved. Like he’d just let out a twenty years’ worth, full-body sigh. He should feel violated like he had the few times he’d bottomed years ago. Instead he felt taken care of, cherished, as if everything Matěj did from the moment they kissed in front of Simon’s beloved books was precisely calculated to make Simon delirious with pleasure.
He closed his eyes, soaking up the lingering pleasure of Matěj’s touch. He stroked Matěj’s arms, tracing where he knew the tattoo spread out, and tangled his fingers in the soft, dark hair. What was the question? “I feel like I just smoked a bong while sipping a piña colada and bathing my feet in chocolate sauce.” The words just tumbled out of his mouth as if he really were doped. Maybe he was.
Matěj started laughing loudly, his whole body shaking, making Simon’s insides glow with happiness.
A question Simon didn’t want to ask was itching and squirming in his throat. “It’s not funny. I just got rimmed on a second date. Now all the boys will think I’m a slut,” he joked instead.
Matěj smiled down at him, taking his time, his eyes flitting over Simon’s features. He looked so at ease. “Told you I was going to blow your mind.”
Simon narrowed his eyes in a pretend scowl, and Matěj smiled wider. “I wanted you to feel so good you’d forget it’s supposed to be wrong.”
How did he know? How the fucking hell did he know these things? Simon didn’t just have sex with his therapist, did he? He didn’t even have a therapist. Although, it seemed he might need one.
“Sometimes it feels weird. With you…” Instead of finishing the sentence, Matěj shrugged. “I like you, Simon. I really want to do this again.”
Did it mean they could have a relationship after all? How? Simon already knew he’d take whatever he could get. And wasn’t it just a little pathetic? He wouldn’t think of those things now. There were so many much better thoughts to dwell on.
He circled his arms around his young lover, around his shoulders and neck, and palmed the back of Matěj’s head, pressing their foreheads together. He wanted so much already. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply, trying to get his emotions under control. They lay on their sides, tangled in each other. Simon focused on all the places where they touched, feeling the flow of the warmth, the unfamiliar heartbeat against his own, Matěj’s hands on his ribs, their breaths mingling. He could stay like this, leaving all the questions to float away. He could just drift, sleepy and content wrapped in the warm velvet of Matěj’s skin…
“I have to go.”
Slap! The words landed like a physical blow in Simon’s face.
With a poof, all the fuzzy, warm fog was gone. Simon’s eyes snapped wide open, his consciousness hiccupped and went into a frenzy again. He rolled onto his back, and his arms dropped limply to his sides.
“Of course.”
Of course. Matěj rose fluidly and headed for the bathroom, picking up his clothes from the floor as he went. Simon stared at the naked beauty, unable to fight the humiliating disappointment. You got what you deserved, idiot. No mercy on the stupid.
A few minutes later, Matěj re-emerged, fully clothed, put together, solemn even. He lingered in the doorway. Simon hoped he would at least kiss him goodbye. So silly.
“I’ll text you, okay?” Matěj said, his face invisible as he stood illuminated from behind.
“Okay.”
Simon heard the door click. He would not feel rejected, he would not feel lonely. He. Would. Not. No! He turned on the bed, groaning.
No mercy on the stupid, Simon. No mercy on the weak.
***
Simon was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. He showered and changed the stained bed sheet with somber concentration. His brain worked overtime again.
He’d never had sex with a woman. He always knew he wasn’t interested and didn’t lie to himself enough to even try. The few fumbling and quite scary teenage experiences with other boys had left him riddled with guilt and disgust with himself. He’d been celibate for a while.
At university, he’d discovered he didn’t really believe in sin. He was expected to do so but the choice was his own. The relief he felt was profound. When he was twenty-two, he told his parents he was gay. He was calm and resigned, sure of the outcome. His mother’s hysterics filled him with a perverted kind of humor. He still smirked at the memory just as often as he cringed.
Later on, he sought safety and stability in his relationships. He preferred men slightly older than himself with a clear picture of what they wanted. He’d had several sexual partners over the years and considered himself a decent lover.
On his first night with Matěj, for only a moment, Simon experienced a pure unadulterated joy of being completely accepted by another human being—without shame, reservations, paybacks or expectations—for the very first time in his life. It was something he’d subconsciously craved since he had been the little boy who felt unloved and sinful through no fault of his own.
For a second, he was convinced there was nothing wrong with what he’d done because nothing which felt this wonderful could be condemnable. Society could choke on its prejudice for all he cared. He was high on the feeling, finally tasting the genuine kind of freedom, the freedom living on the inside. Letting go of his doubts, his bitterness, of the foul-smelling old hatred still rotting in the dark alcoves of his mind, he breathed happiness he’d only so far seen in some of his patients. The orgasm was fleeting, carnal, and measurable. However, the insane, uninhibited pleasure in the aftermath made him glow from deep in his belly.
As Simon basked in the warmth and light, vulnerable in his open happiness, at the exact same moment, Matěj chose to leave. Like a kick in your stomach just when you’re stretching your arms overhead.
***
In the morning, Simon found the abandoned bottle of beer on the bookshelf next to a tiny old Czech edition of Arthur Rimbaud. He rinsed the bottle, put it in a crate on the balcony, returned to the living room and took the Rimbaud with him, falling into his sofa. He was already in the foulest mood; French poetry couldn’t make things worse.