Room Serviced

Carson melted into the crook of Mr. Armisen's arm, the light of the TV flickering over his face as some action movie played out on the screen. But he wasn't focused on the film. His eyes were glued to the man beside him.

"Where the fuck did you come from?" Carson wondered aloud.

Armisen looked down at him and smiled. "I could ask you the same thing."

It was two o'clock in the morning and the two were nuzzled on the couch, Carson's head leaning against the man's chest. Neither of them wanted to go back to sleep, so Armisen decided they should order in and watch a movie. They had a towel laid out beneath them, as Armisen had suggested. Carson's ass was still raw from the pounding, and he was afraid he might bleed. Having a dick the size of a Pringles can stuffed up your butt could have that effect on a guy.

But he didn't care. In fact, he craved the feeling of Mr. Armisen inside him. He had never felt so full as Armisen bore into his hole, and now he felt hollow, emptier than before. He wondered if he'd ever feel whole again.

"So where did you learn to do that, huh?"

Armisen looked down. "Do what?"

Carson snorted. "Where did you learn to fuck like that?"

Armisen laughed, his deep, belly-shaking laugh. He took a long drag on his cigar. "Yeeears of practice."

"I wanna be a stud like you," Carson said, coiling Armisen's chest hairs through his fingers absent-mindedly, counting the grey ones. It sounded stupid when he said it, childlike, but he wasn't afraid to be honest with the guy.

"Shut up. You are a stud."

"I mean, like you..."

"It's just confidence," Armisen said, shrugging.

"Well I'm still working on that," Carson said, rubbing his knee nervously.

"It'll come to you. With time. And experience."

Carson sighed. "So you fuck a lot, huh?"

Armisen shrugged. "If I'm lucky. I travel a lot, so I meet a lot of people."

Carson remembered the sound of one of his "people" back at the Bravard, big-boobed and screaming.

"But you prefer women?" he asked, picking a handful of chips and crunching down.

"No, I wouldn't say that," said Armisen, looking down. "I just have more experience with women."

"You told me you don't like most guys," Carson recalled.

Armisen turned to look at him. "I don't trust most guys."

Carson's heart fluttered. "But you trust me?"

"Sure I do," said the man, running his fingers through Carson's curly hair.

"Why?"

"You seem like a sweet kid," he said, shrugging, tapping his cigar against an ashtray.

"You're a six foot hunk of steel," said Carson, almost laughing, unconvinced. "Why do you need to trust anyone at all? What are you afraid of?"

"Listen," Armisen said, turning to face him. "When you're my age and you've been in this game long enough, you have a lot to lose. I didn't grow up like you kids-Grindr and all that shit. I never got to have that experience. I fooled around a little in college, but most guys like me were scared to take it any further. We went to business school, made a lot of money as fast as possible. We dated girls, got hitched young..."

"Wait, wait, wait," Carson said, sitting up. "You're married?"

Armisen set down his cigar. "I didn't tell you that?"

"No," Carson said, certain he would remember. He looked down at Armisen's hand. No ring.

"Is that a problem?"

Carson considered it. He knew adultery was wrong, but technically he wasn't the adulterer here. And he wasn't really in a position to judge-after all, he was the one who cheated on his boyfriend two years into their relationship. That was the beginning of the end for them.

"Do you love her?"

"Yes," said Armisen, irritation in his voice.

"So...why do you cheat on her so much?"

"What kind of fucking question is that?"

Carson fell silent, feeling he had crossed a line. He was prepared to drop it, when Mr. Armisen began to take a deep breath and answer, gently.

"At first, I just was trying to convince myself I still liked girls, you know? I wasn't attracted to her anymore... And I figured, maybe I'm just not that into her. So I fucked around, got to know other women. And... it was nice. It made me feel secure. And I liked them. Just not as much as..."

His voice broke off.

Carson leaned in. "What? Guys?"

Armisen gave the boy a look. "Look, I'm forty-five years old here. I have a lifetime to psychoanalyze. We're not gonna make any breakthroughs in one night."

"So why am I here, then?" said Carson. "If I'm not convincing you that you're straight?"

Armisen bit his lip, a rare look of vulnerability flickering across his face. "I guess..." he said, sighing heavily. "I guess I just didn't want to die... Without knowing what it was like."

"Like...?"

"I mean," Armisen raised his hands, exasperated, letting them thud back on the couch. "No one's ever eaten my ass before."

Carson's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Armisen, shrugging. "Not too many girls are willing to go for it. They think it's gross, or emasculating."

Carson almost laughed out loud. He'd had his butt eaten out plenty of times, by multiple people. It was so strange to be in this position, across this man who intimidated him so immensely, whom he so respected-and know that he had more sexual experience in that particular department.

"Well, I promise you, it's usually a little better than that," Carson said. "No cliff-diving. Most of the time."

Armisen leaned back and laughed. He pulled Carson close, kissing him, tussling his hair, his lips rich and smokey.

"Well, what other kind of stuff?" Carson asked, eager to offer his services.

"I don't... nah..."

"Tell me."

Armisen looked at his feet. "I'm always the dominant, you know? I've never been... dominated."

Carson was numb with shock. "But you want that?"

"I don't know," Armisen said, shrugging. "I never tried it. I guess I never felt secure enough to... hand someone the reins."

Carson had never thought of it that way. He always assumed Armisen was the strong one, bossing him around. But it was true-there was a bravery to doing what you're told, to trusting in your partner, your own sense of judgement. Carson started to smile, his heart warming with pride.

"Well, that would be hard to do," Carson said, tracing a delicate finger along the man's powerful shoulder. "I don't know if you'll find a bigger, beefier guy than you to be your daddy."

Armisen chuckled, lifting his smoking cigar off the ashtray to his lips. "That's okay. I like being daddy. I'm just... talking."

Carson ran his fingers through the man's thick arm hair. "Listen," he said. "I have to fly back tomorrow. But... maybe we could do this again sometime?"

Armisen looked over at him and lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Carson shrugged. "Sure. I mean, if you ever want some more... experience."

He couldn't believe his own voice as he said it. Was he proposing some sort of long-term affair with a closeted, married Boomer? He supposed he was.

"Well, I have your number," said Armisen, smiling. "I'll give you a call."

Carson smiled, leaning in to kiss the man, breathing in his smokey musk.

"Hey, can I have a drag?"

"Hell no," he said, bringing the cigar to his lips. "Daddies only."

Carson rolled his eyes and fell back on the giant's chest, rubbing his face into his manly fur. He pulled out his phone and looked at his Instagram. All his friends were cheering him on or rolling their eyes, but he was proud of those pictures-he looked confident, sexy as he posed in front of the beach, his toned arms shining in the sunlight.

He looked over at the giant above him, but his eyes had returned to the screen. A twisted idea developed in Carson's mind.

Hoping he wouldn't notice, Carson started to stalk the man behind him. He found his LinkedIn and scrolled through his profile. He looked so adorable in his little grey suit, smiling for the camera. A shadow of the man he knew, the beast that could make his heart stop with a single word, make his eyes roll back into his head with a single touch. The stud. The king.

He probed further, careful not to reveal his prying. He stumbled across his Facebook page and scrolled down.

Carson frowned, sitting up, flipping through his photos.

No.

There was Mr. Armisen with his arm around a woman he supposed was his wife. She was surprisingly familiar. And between them, a handsome young man around Carson's age, whom he immediately recognized. He couldn't believe it.

His ex's smiling face.

Carson looked between them, his pulse racing, hoping to find an answer, anything to explain this away. But it was no use.

The family resemblance was unmistakable.