I'm not sure why but a wave of embarrassment washes over me. Mateo hovers over me with a smirk spread across his smug face. "That was," I pause for a second, still a bit breathless from the whole ordeal, "amazing."
"Yes, it was," Mateo responds. He flops down on me.
I wiggle underneath him. "Get off of me." I'm laughing a bit as I squirm.
"That is not what you were saying a second ago. I do believe you were just moaning under me." Mateo laughs, not moving off of me.
"That was different. You weren't crushing me," I answer, trying to push Mateo off of me.
"Nah, I was just jacking you off." Mateo is still snuggled up to my chest and crushing me with his body weight.
My cheeks are still burning red. I've never had someone so casually talk about jacking me off. Then again, most guys don't stick around for conversation.
"Well, now you're crushing me!" I yell.
"But you're comfy!" Mateo whines.
"Better stop whining, or I'm gonna start calling you a bottom," I respond.
Mateo props himself up, bracing himself on his elbows. "You wanna say that again." Mateo's voice is husky as he says that. He locks eyes with me.
"You're the bottom." Before the word bottom leaves my mouth all the way, Mateo's hand is around my throat.
"Really?" The word comes out as a growl.
I nod as he increases pressure on his grip.
"Because I can tell from your boner that you are definitely enjoying being my bitch." Mateo leans down and presses a kiss to my lips before letting go of my neck.
I'm gasping for air. I am ashamed to admit that I am incredibly turned on by Mateo. "I-I," I breathe out, having caught my breath finally.
Mateo grabs my chin and makes me meet his eyes. "Who's the bottom now?"
"I could top you if I wanted to," I grumbled, crossing my arms across my chest.
"No, you couldn't. Not to mention you didn't seem to want to a little bit ago." Mateo grinned, rolling off of me and laying down next to me.
"Be quiet," I mumbled, running my hands over my face.
"Nah, vodka!" Mateo yells before bolting up. He grabs around for the bottle and takes a swig. Mateo offers the bottle to me after he's done.
"No. I don't really want to drink ever again," I say. My head is still slighting pounding.
"Come on. Maybe, it'll loosen you upon since you seem so hell-bent on not being a bottom." Mateo laughs, taking another sip before setting the bottle on my nightstand.
"I'm not hell-bent on not being a bottom," I mumble.
"Really? So you're over the whole 'I could top you if I wanted to' fantasy?" Mateo laughs.
I hit his bare chest with the back of my hand. "I could!" I whine.
"Who's whining and proving my point now?" Mateo taunts.
"Shut up! Don't you have anything else to do other than be an ass?" I ask him, sitting up beside him.
"We could talk about a date to go out?" Mateo purposes this suggestion sounding a little tentative as he says it.
"Like on a date?" I look up at him.
"Yeah," Mateo answers, looking at me. "Like on a date."
"With me?" I know I'm asking questions that are a bit redundant, but I just want to make sure he's not fucking with me.
"No, with the homeless guy on the corner." Mateo laughs. "Maybe if you put on a skirt, it'd be with you."
I lean over and rest my head on Mateo's shoulder. "I told you, I don't own a skirt."
"I could fix that. I could even get you some sexy lingerie to wear under it if you'd like."
"That sounds more like something you'd like." I laugh. I absentmindedly run my hands over his abs, which are tight and make me feel inferior.
"Maybe, but it seems like you found something you like," Mateo says, referring to my hand roaming his mid-section.
My cheeks flush. "I was just making sure they were real."
"What's the verdict?" He asks in a teasing tone.
"Quite real," I answer as I pull my hand away from his abs. "Do you have a date in mind for a date?"
"How about we do dinner tonight? After you could spend the night at my house again. That way, you could see if the rest of me is real."
"While that sounds lovely, you have a tendency to make me miss work. And I need that money for groceries." The word vomit about my poorness falls out of my mouth before I have a chance to filter.
"How much do you make? I could match that," Mateo offers. I know he isn't trying to make me feel like shit, but that's all his comment does.
"Mateo, I don't want your money. I've been self-sufficient since fourteen."
Mateo tenses beside me. "I thought you said you got kicked out when you were twelve."
"I did," I answer, praying that he doesn't ask further questions on the subject.
"So what happened between the ages of 12 and 13?" Mateo asks, drawing small circles on my thigh.
"Just homelessness," I mumble.
"Finn, I-" Mateo starts to offer some sort of consolation.
"To be honest, I don't really want to relieve the horror show that was my teen years," I say, sounding exasperated.
"Yeah, I get that. So I'll pick you up at seven? Dress nice, alright?" Mateo stands up from the bed and grabs his shirt. Mateo pulls it over his head, covering the beautiful skin of his chest.
"Okay. Where are we going?" I ask, staying seated as I watch him dress.
"I was thinking somewhere nice, and it's a surprise." Mateo punctuates his statement with jazz hands.
"Ooo, fancy," I say.
"See ya at seven." Mateo gives me a two-fingered salute before exiting the room. Moments later, I hear the front door shut.
. . .
"Ah, Tournedos, nice." I smile excitedly.
"Glad you like it," Mateo responds. The two of us make our way into the restaurant. "Reservation for two under Quesada," Mateo says.
"Right this way, sir," The waiter looks between the two of us with an emotion in his eyes that I don't quite understand.
We sit down at a lovely table covered with a white tablecloth. The waiter says something along the lines of taking our time with our orders as he hands us our menus. The look I don't understand still graces his face. The waiter is a tall, lanky man with an I'm better than you type of attitude.
The waiter leaves us, and Mateo produces a package wrapped with a ribbon. "What's that for?"
"You," Mateo answers.
My heart skips a beat, I haven't been given a present in a little over five years. "Really?"
"Yeah, open it." Mateo bites his bottom lip looking excited.
I pull the ribbon off the box and peel back the tissue paper. It's a black pleated skirt. "You're kidding me?" I ask, laughing a bit hysterically.