His Truth(7)

By: Riley Hart


There was a voice in his head, telling him he was kissing a boy for the second time. His father would kill him for it. He’d seen his father’s violence against others. And he’d go to hell.

But then Leo moaned into his mouth, and all Roman could think about was earning more of those sounds. Of making Leo—this guy who was rich, and wore nice clothes, and had parents who went to fuckin’ benefits at hospitals—feel good.

He wanted to keep feelin’ good himself because most of the time he didn’t.

In this moment it didn’t matter if this made him a fag, a queer, a sinner. Later, when he was back in his neighborhood, it would matter, but not right now. Right now, nothin’ mattered except kissing Leo Mancini.





THREE





Leo couldn’t believe Roman stood in front of him. There had been a second, one brief second, where he’d wanted to reach for him, to pull him close because fuck, all these years and he hadn’t even known if the man was alive or dead. Knowing his family, it could have been either. But then he remembered what happened. What they’d gone through together. What he would have done for Roman, and how Roman had responded to Leo with his fist. That’s when fire engulfed him, burned to fucking ash any nostalgia he felt at seeing the man again. And from the look of him, the man to whom, apparently, life had been very good.

They stood there staring at each other. Roman had said his name, and then just…nothing. He had a woman on his arm, and he wore what was obviously an expensive suit. It was so far from the Roman he’d known that, for a second, he thought maybe it wasn’t him. But it was.

“Do you need something?” he asked, even though he knew Roman didn’t. Hell, he wasn’t even inside the bar but standing on the sidewalk, a short, black barrier separating them.

Roman opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I…I have to go.” And then he turned and fucking walked away, dragging the woman behind him. She looked back to Leo, confusion in her stare, and then they disappeared into the crowd.

Roman.

He’d just fucking seen Roman.

An ache tried to form in his chest, tried to grow and spread, a nick in a windshield spidering out, but Leo stamped down on those feelings.

Fuck Roman. No matter how much Leo thought he’d needed Roman, he hadn’t twelve years ago and he sure as shit didn’t need him now.

“Ex-boyfriend?” the customer at the table asked, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in. How long had he been standing there?

“Nobody important.” He winked at the guy, his muscles suddenly going tight.

“Well, that’s good to hear. We can help you forget him if you want.” The guy was sexy—African-American with buzzed hair and a goatee. Leo looked from him to the man sitting at the table with him. He had pale skin, bright blue eyes, and plump lips that looked like they’d be fun to nibble on.

Yeah, this was exactly what he needed. He wasn’t that same kid he’d been at sixteen. He didn’t hide who he was anymore, didn’t try to conform to what society, his family, or God wanted from him. He was out and proud. If he wanted to fuck, he fucked. He wasn’t the suit-and-tie man his father was, the man his father wanted him to be…the person Roman now was.

He shook his head, wanting Roman out of it. “How late are you staying? I’m actually out of here early tonight.”

“Leo!” One of the bartenders called him.

“I’ll be right there,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“We’ll wait for you,” the first guy told him.

“Okay.” He grinned at the man. “It’ll be midnight.”

The guy gave Leo a quick nod, and he walked away to finish out his night. It wasn’t often that he didn’t stay until closing, but he was an extra tonight.

He continued his shift, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind that wondered things about Roman that he didn’t want to wonder about.

When his shift ended, he changed and cleaned up in the back, and then made his way to the table where the couple waited for him. As soon as he reached them, the black man stood, his partner pushing to his feet right afterward. “Your place or ours?” he asked.

“I live within walking distance.” He could leave his bike here and get it tomorrow.

“Yours, then.” The first man smiled at him.

They hardly talked on the way to Leo’s apartment. This wasn’t about talking, though. It was about sex.

The second they made it inside, the black man asked, “What’s your name?”

“Leo.”

“I’m Bill, and this is Mike. Can my husband kiss you, Leo?”

He eyed Mike, those lips he wanted to taste earlier. “Fuck yes.”