38. EQUAL TIME

/Charles/

“Pierre and I enter the bathroom, me watching Max wait his turn with the bitch hanging around his neck, licking his ear and rubbing herself in heat, his hand in her ass. Me going in and fucking Pierre. I was hard as a rock, it didn't take long. I thought about how I'd do it with Max and I bent Pierre forward and took him with incredible vulgarity.
When I think about it, the excitement, instead of calming, intensifies. I roll my eyes, straighten up and spread my legs giving space to vent alone.
I wonder when George and Alex left me with Max.
I don't remember how I ended up upstairs with them from the bathroom, but at some point, from the time I was talking to them to the time Max was there.
What the hell did I do with Max?
I know I was sitting there talking to him and I don't remember what.
What the hell did I do? From then on, I can't remember. I try, I rack my brains, but there's no way.
Did Max accompany me? It's dark, but if I did something with him, I'd like to remember.
I'm afraid only he knows.
I stare at the chat, at their bullshit, my brain frozen.
I don't know how I ended up here. I just can't.
Just the sensation of smelling his distinct scent again. And then what? There must be something. Some other clue.
No, it's out of the question, I need to know if I did something.
Fuck, I don't have his phone number and I don't know what fucking room he's in. These guys have been texting for a while and I think they're already on their way home. These assholes have really abandoned me.
Nothing, I wanted to avoid involving them, but I think if I want to get to the bottom of this, I have no choice; so I resign myself and, sighing, knowing I shouldn't and that I'll regret it, I write.
'Does anyone have Max's number?'
Poor fool, do you think they'll just give it to you without asking?
Before reading the messages, like a coward, I leave my phone charging and go to the bathroom for a quick shower because I think I've been sweating like shit. The hot water soothes me and makes me feel better, while my head slowly gives me a break. It still spins and hurts, but it's less intense than before.
When I finish, the chat is full of messages, obviously.
All predictable.
'First of all, good morning!'
'And good night!'
'And good life!'
'What the hell did you do? Why do you need his number?'
'Charles?'
'Charles?'
'CHARLES LECLERC WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?'
They keep calling me until I decide to answer, with the towel still around my waist and my hair dripping wet from having just shaken it off.
'I don't I remember, that's why I have to ask him! Can you give me his number?'
'Did you wake up naked?'
'You can do so many terrible things even when you're dressed.' I reply without thinking too much.
Silence in the chat for a few moments. I assume everyone is recording what I've written and while they're doing so, I roll my eyes in annoyance. Why the hell don't they just give me his number?
Then Alex finally sends it to me, probably the only one among them who has it.
'Thanks.'
I save his number in my phone book, feeling strange about having it, and while thinking I should check on Pierre, maybe, I call Max directly.
He might even answer me never, that asshole. How do I know what his relationship with the phone is? I need to know right away.
Well, seeing a number he doesn't know might not...
I don't have time to finish my thought before his annoyed, hoarse voice answers me from beyond the grave, and the friend between my legs goes back to rear up. And so instead of responding normally, I spontaneously say, "Shit!" in French.
At this, he lets out an unmistakable moan of pleasure.
- Mmm... Charles... good morning...
He doesn't even ask me how I got his number. And how did he recognize me from a French "shit"?
- Were you still asleep? - I ask instead as if it were the first thing to say. I've already started with the "shit," I'm not continuing very well. Also because it's obvious he was asleep.
Listen to this asshole's erotic voice.
- What time is it?
- Noon. - I reply. As I speak, I feel him moving; I assume he's going to the bathroom. Will he talk to me while he pisses? Well, after all I'm the one who pissed him off.
- Are you still at the hotel? - he asks me with a surprisingly good recovery. He must be less hungover than me, I envy him.

Without realizing it, I distract myself by starting a conversation with him like nothing, forgetting what I wanted to say.
- Yes.
- How are you?
- Shitty...
He keeps moving even though I can't make out what he's doing. I remain sitting on the bed, wet and dripping, with only a towel around my waist.
It's just now that there's a knock on my door; I look at it, perplexed.
- And who is it now?
- Open up. - his response seems logical. I'd tell him the same thing if someone knocked on his door while I'm on the phone with him, so without even thinking I slowly get up and, grumbling, open the door.
Just as I am. The bedroom slippers, just out from the shower.
His face appears before mine, both of us still on the phone. He's disheveled, with the pillow creases still on his face. He's in boxers, a T-shirt and slippers, he's just woken up and he looks damn good. He's hot and sexy and once again, for the umpteenth time, the blood is rushing too fast to my lower regions covered—only now, I realize—by a towel that just now decides to loosen. Feeling it, I hold it avoiding being naked.
Max smiles slyly and waves his phone ending the conversation. I'm still a little dazed, but at his winking look, appreciating what he sees, I blush.
- Max, what the hell...
He walks in calmly, as if I'd invited him, closing the door behind.
- You called me and since I was here and I know where your room is because I accompanied you last night,I thought we'd do it this way first.
He throws himself on my bed like he's my boyfriend, lying on his back with hands behind the head, his mischievous blue eyes never leaving my body, which he looks up and down embarrassing me like crazy. And turning me on.
- Please, go ahead, don't worry about me. What did you want to ask me?  he replies completely at ease.
What do you mean, 'go ahead'? Should I get naked in front of him right now when I'm the flag-raiser because of him? And what am I supposed to do, a free striptease?
But if I lock myself in the bathroom, I'm acting like a kid and I'm not.
Be a man, Charles. He's just challenging you for the umpteenth time, accept the fucking challenge and show him who wins.
I take a breath and, putting my phone back on the charger next to his face on the nightstand, let my eyes rest on his from this proximity; I'm leaning over him, almost, and Max doesn't take his eyes off me. He has that cunning, destructive look.
I straighten up and, with considerable effort, gather my thoughts. Aside from giving the best striptease of my life, I have to ask him what happened last night.
- My memories reach back to when we were alone on the couch in the club. But I don't remember what we talked about or how I ended up here. Did something happen I should remember?
With that, I take the knot of the towel wrapped around my waist and open it in front of him. His eyes don't leave. I know I'm attractive and I know how to please even more. I know how to move, I know how to impress if I want to.
With a subtle, almost imperceptible smile, I pass the towel over my body without ever taking my mischievous eyes from his.
Max sucks his lips, appreciating the view I'm offering him before answering.
- Let's see... you asked me what I was thinking about while I was fucking her. - direct and without filters. Of course he was telling me that, he couldn't wait. You can learn the truth from a drunk or from Max.
My eyes widen, then quickly come to my senses, I turn offering him my firm buttocks that I know he admires. I remember his palpated on the dance floor well, while I rub my still-dripping hair.
I would never have asked a question like that if I were me.
- And I asked you what you were thinking about when you were fucking Pierre. - he continues, then silence.
Why does he make me beg? Because he wants to see my face, obviously, so I try to put on my consummate seducer mask and turn away. At this point I rub my groin very carefully and thoroughly, returning my eyes to burn his. It's not difficult, they're beautiful, his.
Finally, pleased, he continues.
It seems like a kind of fair exchange. I show myself naked and you tell me about yesterday. But this thing turns me on somehow.
- You told me you were thinking about me, about how we would do it. Rough and vulgar.
At this, a flash goes through my head, almost like a pang.
- If we had sex, it wouldn't be as rough and vulgar as you imagine, dear Charlie. - I repeat out loud under my breath, surprised. He stares at me equally astonished.
- Do you remember? - it seems like something he hoped I didn't remember.
I stare at him remaining naked, the towel limp in my hand, dragging it on the floor. I nod vaguely.
- I just remembered. Did you tell me in the bedroom? - Max nods sitting up, puts his feet on the floor, rests his hands on the mattress and stares at me, stunned.
- At the club I told you that when I was fucking with that girl, I thought about who would be the top between us.
He says it with a satisfied smile, but it's as if he's anticipating something better that's about to come. My eyes widen inevitably embarrassed; I can't hold it in this time, so much so that my nakedness fades into the background. Not to him, though.
- And what else did I tell you?
He widens his smile, which still remains mischievous and cunning.
- That you'd be the top and that you wanted to fuck me but were too drunk to!
At this I cover my face with my hands, letting the towel fall to the floor, unable to take it anymore. The embarrassment grabs me completely and I don't even remember that I'm naked and that I should be ashamed of it anymore. Well, I'm not ashamed of my body, but I'd never flaunt it like that if I were me. That means I'm not yet. Besides, my head is still spinning.
Max's laughter doesn't help and I go back to glaring at him.
- Oh, don't laugh, I was drunk! Don't tell me we actually fucked!
Max contemplates me for a moment, almost as if he's thinking about what to say, so I move closer to him intimidatingly. Actually, just closer to reach a blowjob. Still naked.
- The truth, Max! - I thunder peremptorily, hands on hips, my entire groin, not exactly limp and at rest, in front of his face.
He lowers his eyes right to my erection, which is growing stronger and stronger. I haven't yet vented between the various ups and downs of the last half hour and he seems to appreciate it. In fact, he seems to be considering helping me now.
I remain still and can't breathe, for a moment I hope so.
I wouldn't move if he did.
I wouldn't stop him.
He straightens and leans closer to the edge of the bed, our legs brushing reminding me of last night's dance, and I think he's thinking about that too.
- Max, did we fuck? - I ask again, softly, persuasively now and not in a peremptory tone.
He bites his full lip, still staring shamelessly at my increasingly hard and throbbing cock. It seems to have a life of its own, look at how it grows.
- Look, you don't even have to touch it. - he comments without having to specify further.
I hold my breath and take a half step forward. Our feet touch completely, but only those. Another rush of excitement runs through us, but his boxers are comfortable and all I can see is that they're tight now, while I'm completely exposed.
- Are you not enjoying the sight I'm offering you? Don't I deserve at least an honest answer? - I murmur sinuously.
The next step is to touch his face with my hand, but luckily it's no use. He finally looks up after imagining taking my dick in his mouth and just as I was about to put it in, he decides with a sigh.
- No, we didn't fuck. You were too drunk. I walked you to your room and helped you get into bed. I just took off your jacket and shoes.
His eyes move away from mine, he looks around the room. It's the first time he's not looking at me and right at this moment I realize there's one last thing he has to say to me, but I don't think he'll say it. I don't know why, I'm certain of this.
- And then what?
Max shakes his head and stands up, landing in front of me. If I didn't reflexively step back, my cock would touch him since it's tense and he smirks at this gesture for the obvious reason.
- Nothing. I said goodnight and told you to throw up in the trash can.
He won't tell me, but I'll try anyway.
- There's more. You're not going to tell me?
Max stares at me still standing there, still a few inches away from me.
- What are you willing to do to know?
And this answer is so unlike him, so much so that I was actually hoping for it.
- Wasn't what I just did enough?
He purses his lips pretending to be an asshole, but in reality I know he's not.
- I wouldn't say that...
I know he does it to protect himself, so I decide to let it go. Everyone has the right to defend themselves and I suppose I have a few little secrets too. Anyway we didn't fuck, I was already asleep, what could have happened? He must have watched me sleep!
- Then keep your secret. - but I don't say it bitterly or maliciously, nor exasperatedly. It's more of a concession. He gives me a satisfied little smile, takes one last look down at my still not at all calm groin and gives me yet another mischievous smile.
- I advise you to fix it, or he'll give you no peace for the rest of the day!
With that he puts his slippers back on, picks up his phone from the bed and goes. Before leaving he turns and looks at me again, and at this point I tell him something.
- Thanks. - but there's no irony behind it, I'm being sincere and he knows what I'm saying.
After all he took me to his room and didn't really take advantage of me.
- What would you have done if I'd told you we'd fucked? - he asks instead before leaving.
I shrug and spontaneously reply: - I would have made you do it again because I wanted to remember it too!
And with that, a brief, spontaneous grimace and a curse accompany him as he walks away, accompanied by my sadistic laughter.
It feels like I've just crossed the finish line exactly as he did.
Yes, I'd say we're even on this one. Our race is still to run!
Smiling with satisfaction, just once, I let my hand run over my erection, giving what I truly deserves and demands. Now that I know everything, I can do it. I throw myself onto the bed where he had just laid himself, where he had laid me last night, probably with unexpected sweetness, and while I repeat his phrase that has come back to me, with that tender ‘Charlie’, the warmth and pleasure expand, finally giving me relief in every sense.
It's going to be a long race. Not easy at all. But it’ll definitely be beautiful.
I can't wait to run it.”

/Max/

"What a certified idiot!
I could have told him we'd fucked to be an asshole. I knew I had to! Now I'll be left wondering if he'd actually fuck me to remember it. Me and my damned habit of always telling the truth no matter what.
I'm a complete idiot!
At this point I could have told him he tried to unzip my jeans but couldn't. I'm an asshole for always wearing the tightest ones I have. If they were looser and more accessible, what the hell would he have done?
Probably a blowjob complete with vomiting.
Oh fuck, why am I such an idiot?!
- Armani. - I whisper the name of my perfume, which he seems to really like. At this personal memory, mine and mine alone, a faint, vague smile surfaces again after having crucified myself. I reach my room on the same floor as him, just a little further away, and I decide that this will be my birthday present to him; I know he'll do it in October. I can imagine the look on his face when he receives it.
Mmm, I can't wait to give it to him!
And speaking of birthdays, mine comes first and now I have his phone number.
A grin finally brightens my face.
Something new is beginning between us, let's say a new phase. A really interesting phase, very different from the one we've experienced so far, full of bad moods, teasing, resentments, murderous glances and atrocious doubts.
Now there's no more doubt, in the end I was right!
He likes me. Probably only sexually, but who cares, I don't want to get married! I like 'free practice'.
Yes, dear Charles. From here on, a new phase begins between us; you'll see how much fun we'll have.
If I see our long relationship as a competition, as it always has been, I'd say that until now, since we've hated and confused each other just trying to crush each other, it could be Sector 1, but from now on Sector 2 begins and I'm sure it will be the most interesting one.
We know we like each other and want to fuck, as simple as drinking a gin and tonic. Easy to understand, because I know full well that actually making it happen will be incredibly difficult. Sector 2 will be the most complicated, I'm sure of it, because we both want to be in charge and the competition has now become pushing the other to jump on you first, because that's how we have fun.
Giving in first means losing, in our minds distorted by the desire to always win.
We're incredibly competitive, everything we do is transformed into a fight between us, everything must be a way to overcome the other and demonstrate superiority. Even in bed we'll fight over who will top, I already know that, but before we get there it'll be fun to push each other to take the fateful step.
Even though I know I have no patience and he's the one with more.
As I think about this metaphor and what it will be like to finally have him in my bed, my hand runs to pleasure myself under my boxers. I pull out my cock and I masturbate with Charles explicitly in mind. He needs to sort out his mess with Pierre, because I know him and I know that sober, until he sorts it out, he won't do anything with me, but it'll be my duty to remind him that he needs to get a move on. Also because I don't have much patience and I don't give a damn if he cheats on his "not-boyfriend" with me. That's his problem. I'm interested in getting into his gorgeous, small, firm ass.
I still remember the firm, warm texture against my hand when I slipped it into his pants. Good him that never wears tight things. I have to say I was very skilled, it wasn't easy considering we were both with other partners.
I had to turn my back and find the right spot on the first try, but I managed it and it was fucking satisfying.
As is my orgasm now, as I think about the fingers that had found his slit and were sliding into his tight little hole. If only I'd done it for real, if only I'd managed to put them inside him in that moment.
But next time I won't fail.”