Cesar/Mario

by Debel

Mario Santelli hid the light gray of his eyes tightly behind closed lids, shutting out the beautiful San Francisco postcard view of the Golden Gate Bridge pasted against the blue sky. He was in no mood to appreciate the clear day and the absence of the fog, which usually rolled into the small garden tucked away at the foot of the bridge. Everything around him, the clear sky, the brightly colored flowers, all of it was simply a backdrop for someone else to appreciate. Today Mario Santelli could not.

Sheer stubbornness kept him where he was seated on the low stone wall. It curved gracefully along the wide, paved walkway and down toward another postcard view of the Pacific. He flinched slightly and almost fell backwards into the mass of flowers behind him as a bee decided to give him a close inspection.

He smiled to himself. At least somebody was interested in him. It had been too long since his last stunt job and if things didn't pick up he would have to take the circus gig Alberto had offered him in Mexico City. He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, letting his head fall heavily into his hands. He ran his hands appreciatively over the short, chestnut-colored hair. He had cut it shortly after his dramatic breakup with his big movie star lover. A bitter smile spread over his wide mouth. He wouldn't be having such a hard time locating a job except for the fact that Mr. A-List Actor had blackballed him all over L.A. Of course if Mario hadn't driven the Little Shit's favorite Ferrari into his architecturally designed, infinity-edge pool then he might not have blackballed him. Mario laughed out loud at the memory of his ex-lover's face. No, he thought as he shook his head, it was worth it just to have that image burned forever in his memory as he flung open the double doors of the mansion's entrance for the last time and listened in sweet gratification as Little Shit's curses filled the air and then faded as Mario got more distance between himself and the biggest mistake of his life.

He checked his watch. Grace was late. He should leave but he hated to do that to a friend. She was only trying to help, but he hated taking charity and that was what her thinly disguised offer of a job really was. He was happy for Grace. She had finally made it big with one of her crazy inventions thanks to the backing of her billionaire lover, retired Houston oil tycoon Jake 'Tater' McClanahan.

The only information she had given him was that he would be stunt coordinator on a single-day's shoot, a commercial for Grace's latest gadget, a combination coffee maker/CD player/toilet bowl.

Mario idly traced his fingers along the long, white scar running the length of his tanned forearm. If nothing else, at least the Little Shit had appreciated his body and what he could do with it. He clenched his fists. Just thinking about that perfect ass made him crazy. He looked up, hoping to see Grace's tall, slender form striding purposefully toward him. He looked forward to seeing his friend and dreaded it at the same time. Grace had warned him from the very first about Little Shit and now he'd have to hear 'I told you so'. Grace had always told him he had the romantic heart of a teenage girl in heat trapped in the body of a gay man's wet dream. Grace had a way with words. But she was right. He was always looking for that special someone and they always turned out to be like Little Shit.

No Grace. She was usually so punctual. He was staring down at the pavement when he heard his name as a question. A softly accented male voice said it in such a way that Mario wanted to hear it again. He moved his eyes over to rest on the black shoes and then let them travel slowly and admiringly up the straight, jean-clad legs to slender hips, and a beautiful torso covered in a tight, white T-shirt and a lipstick red, leather jacket. The face was in shadow, backlit by the bright sky and he was wearing shades. He said Mario's name again and Mario stood up. He would have leaped off the Bridge and swam through a school of starving piranhas to hear this guy say his name just one more time.

Instead Mario smiled. He was pleased to find he was a good couple of inches taller and a few pounds heavier. The guy's hair was short and black and clung to his skull as sleek as a seal's pelt. Just looking at it made Mario's hands ache to feel it under his touch. And the lips. They were screaming at him to bite them. He hated the shades. He wanted to see this guy's eyes. He was probably straight as an arrow, but he'd never find out if he couldn't read the guy's eyes.

Mario watched his reflection in their dark surface as he produced his most dazzling smile and introduced himself, "I'm Mario Santelli. Do we know each other?" He knew for damn sure he'd never met this guy before.

The black seal-pelt head shook in denial and the voice came again, "Grace sent me. I am a friend of hers also. She is sorry she could not meet you, but asked me to bring you to the location where they will be shooting the commercial."

Mario stretched and then risked a quick slap on the guy's shoulder as he said, "Let's go then." His hand tingled delightfully from the feel of the muscles they had encountered under the leather. He looked up at the sky and the postcard view of the Bridge and said, still grinning, "It's a beautiful day isn't it? Just beautiful."

Cesar drove them in Grace's convertible and Mario found himself talking non-stop, asking Cesar questions and generally being the motor mouth he was when in a state of such heightened sexual uncertainty. He still couldn't figure out this Cesar Dominguez. He was being cool and keeping his distance and Mario had never felt such a need to get to know someone, but the more he talked the more he sensed Cesar pulling away. Mario was unable to stop himself. He was either going to fall off the edge of the building and find the air bag waiting for him or the warm, welcoming embrace of concrete.

They passed a billboard with Little Shit's face plastered over it, filling it completely along with the title of his latest blockbuster. Mario couldn't resist giving it the finger as they passed with a muttered, "Fuck you, Little Shit, hope it tanks."

Cesar's eyebrows quirked above the rim of his sunglasses as he glanced at Mario. "Not you Cesar. Little Shit." Mario nodded his head in the direction of the billboard which was now behind them and fading quickly into the distance. "Grace ever mention him to you?" The seal-pelt head shook in the negative. "No, I don't suppose she would. Ever see one of his movies?" This time there was an affirmative nod of the head. "Well, we have something in common then." Mario was off again, this time to regale Cesar with behind the scenes tales of his last job on the set of Little Shit's current release. He did manage to get a smile and a laugh from those luscious lips by the time they parked the car at their destination and the dim possibility of landing in the soft embrace of the air bag rather than kissing concrete was growing.

The two-story building contained a gym owned by one of Tater's companies and was due for renovation. Grace had proclaimed it perfect as the location for the commercial and where they were to begin shooting in two weeks.

Mario followed Cesar through the front door and past the gym equipment. There was nothing special about the dark place to Mario's eyes; it was a well-equipped gym of black leather, shiny chrome and steel and glass, with gun metal-colored walls, which coldly complimented the stark, neo-fascist decor. It reminded Mario of Little Shit's bathroom.

Grace was Grace; she had enthroned herself like a 21st century Elizabeth Rex atop a massage table and converted it into control central. Mario was grateful for her monopoly of Cesar's attention. It gave him a chance to study the other man's face without the mask of the sunglasses. The first thing he noticed, was amazed by, were the eyes. They were wide-set, beautifully shaped and surrounded by thick lashes. He was extremely pleased to find they strayed in his direction more than once while Cesar was supposed to be giving his full attention to Grace. Mario groaned inside. Those eyes were a climax waiting to happen and he wanted to be in the vicinity when they did.

Everyone's attention focused suddenly on the small radio which had been quietly playing a Carlos Santana tune. A paid political advertisement came on with a familiar name attached to it, Vince Boudreau running on the 4th party ticket "Visions are For Real". He was leading by a wide margin in the polls for the position of Governor of the great state of California. Tater walked over and deftly turned it off. No one said anything for a while and then Grace started up again, this time motioning Mario over to explain what she needed from him.

The eyes which Mario had admired found themselves studying the well-muscled frame of the stunt man from a safe distance. Cesar had noted the way the man moved. He moved like an athlete with a sureness and spareness which the ex-boxer admired. The flashy, throw-away personality was suddenly replaced with a serious professionalism as he listened to their favorite redhead. The gray eyes narrowed in concentration and Cesar was reminded of a big cat; the slitted eyes glowing eerily in the dimly lit room.

Cesar was aware of the guy's interest in him. It had unnerved him at first. He had never met anyone who so openly flirted with another man. Cesar wasn't going to encourage him, but he found he enjoyed the attention and for some reason getting angry or offended with Mario just didn't seem to be necessary. He had a feeling Mario flirted with a lot of guys. Besides, the guy was fun to be around. He was from a world that Cesar found mysterious and wildly interesting and more than a little decadent.

The narrow, gray beam of Mario's eyes darted towards Cesar in the dim light and he suddenly found it necessary to inspect a piece of gym equipment. The voice, which Cesar decided found a cynical humor in absolutely everything, asked from close behind him, "So, Grace tells me you're looking to get some celebrity clients. Ever been a personal trainer before?" Mario held up his hand and laughed at himself, halting Cesar before he could answer. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter. I can introduce you to some people. They aren't exactly Oprah, but they can recommend you to people who know people like Oprah. If they like you you're set. Before long you'll have your own video and you'll be on every talk show and you won't even remember the crazy stunt guy who got you your start in the business."

Cesar grinned and jabbed Mario in the shoulder like an excited boy. "I never forget my friends." Then the face that Mario was beginning to grow entirely too fond of watching got all serious and Cesar declared, "I can do this, man. There is no doubt in my mind. I will be the best personal trainer Hollywood has ever seen. Those stars will never look so good. You will see."

Mario crossed his arms over his chest, making the biceps bulge and stretching the material of his black T-shirt dramatically, all the while trying to control the flip flops his stomach was doing at being referred to as one of Cesar's friends. He really was pathetically needy he thought to himself. He asked Cesar in the same serious tone, "Then you have no problem working with gays?"

Cesar immediately averted his eyes and put his hands on his hips, shrugging expressively and working very hard to look unconcerned. "I am not stupid, man. I have been around queers...." he darted a look at Mario and decided to change his phrasing, "I have been around gays a lot, man. They are in the boxing world too you know. They do not bother me. I will not bother them."

Mario grinned, "Glad to hear it. Then you won't have any problem working with me."

This time Cesar's big eyes went directly to Mario's. Cesar was startled. He had never met anyone quite like this Mario Santelli. He was so casual and open about being a queer. Mario's openness allowed him to ask, "You are not worried, man? I mean about getting beat up or something?"

Mario's laughter came boiling out of the center of his gut. "Do I look like I'm worried? You planning on beating me up, Cesar? I know you're a professional boxer and all, but I can take care of myself. I'll make you work for it."

Cesar took in the solid form of muscle and bone in front of him, the long scar running along the guy's forearm and most importantly the look in Mario's eyes. Mario's tone was joking, but the eyes said he'd been in fights before and never backed down and wasn't about to start now.

Cesar shook his head and grinned back at him, "No. I am an ex-boxer, remember? No more fights for me. Hey, man, can you show me how you do those fight scenes. I spent my life trying to connect with a guy and give him some hurt and you do just the opposite. You fight without hurting. Show me how you do it."

Mario was only too happy to show Cesar the tricks of his trade. He discovered the ex-boxer was a quick study and they progressed to falls and rolls and then a tumble down stairs without breaking your neck. By the end of it they were both sweaty and breathing hard and only slightly sore.

Grace and Tater watched the two men playing like boys. Grace was beaming and she leaned over to wrap an arm affectionately around Tater's thick neck and give his balding head a big, wet kiss. "I told you didn't I? Do you think it's too early to send out the wedding invitations?"

Tater wrapped his arms around Grace's waist and kissed her warmly. He replied in his warm, Texas drawl, "Honey, you just never give up do you. We'd better leave and give them a chance to get to know each other better or nothing's ever going to happen between those two."

Grace smoothed down the wisps of brown hair that ringed her lover's head and murmured, "You are such a romantic, Tater baby. That's why I love you so."

Tater looked into Grace's eyes and said with all the love and sincerity he could muster from his well-used, 63-year-old-heart, "And you're a big, beautiful, bad ass girl and that's why I love the hell outa you baby. Let's get out of this place. I need to fuck you in the worst possible way."

Grace's laughter was full of knowledge and delight and anticipation as she replied, "The worst possible way is the only way I ever want to be fucked, Tater baby."

Grace and Tater said their good-byes and left Mario and Cesar sitting alone on the gym floor. Mario looked at Cesar and Cesar looked at Mario. Mario winked at him and grinned and Cesar blushed and looked away, suddenly conscious he was alone in the building with a gueer...gay guy who obviously was interested in him. But Mario hadn't made any overt moves on him and Cesar was beginning to wonder if he was relieved or unhappy about that fact.

Cesar watched as Mario easily got to his feet and stretched, his joints popping as he did so. Cesar knew he should be stretching his own muscles after the workout they'd just had, but found he couldn't take his eyes off Mario's body. It was like the time in the ring with Vince when he had imagined the referee standing naked before him. The vision was unasked for and unwanted and brought on by too many blows to his head, but it had still come to him and now, suddenly, Mario was standing in the dark, cavernous room naked before him. Cesar blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the vision didn't go away. Mario stood before him naked and his body was beautifully muscled and he had his back to Cesar. Cesar swallowed; he felt a heavy desire coiling deep in his gut; a desire for the male body in front of him; a desire to touch it intimately without any pretense, to just enjoy the feel of its strength against his own........

"Cesar? You want to take a hot shower?" Mario stood fully clothed before Cesar where he still sat on the floor. Cesar looked up startled. He could only manage a nod of his head and a mumbled, "Sure, sounds great."

Mario grabbed Cesar's wrist and helped him up, puzzled by his reaction. "You okay Cesar? I mean you didn't bump your head or anything on that last tumble down the stairs did you?"

Cesar shook his head and his mood and smiled at Mario. "No, man, I am okay. We should go take this shower." Cesar felt comfortable with Mario, as if he'd known the guy for a long time; it was his own skin he was becoming decidedly uncomfortable being in.

The locker room was like the rest of the gym, gray and black tones prevailed, the rows of metal lockers gave the room a cold, institutional feeling. Cesar was grateful for Mario's non-stop chatter and warm presence. The stunt man tugged his shirt over his head, telling Cesar about the city and the sites he wanted to show him. Cesar listened quietly, keeping his eyes averted and his attention carefully on his own body as he draped his sweat-soaked shirt over a bench.

Mario tried to ignore the fact that Cesar was in the same room with him and he was removing his clothes. He had decided that the way he felt about Cesar was too good to be true; it was better to keep with his old habit of picking shallow, ego-centered guys like Little Shit, incapable of sustaining a meaningful relationship; a comfortable if painful habit he had nurtured for many years; at least that's what his therapist had told him when Mario had discovered the man fucking Little Shit's brains out across the arm of the therapist's very expensive Italian-leather sofa.

The way he felt about Cesar was just some self-flagellating, re-bound thing after Little Shit. He was regressing to adolescence and this was nothing more than a crush, a miss-placed crush on someone who couldn't even return his feelings. It certainly felt like a crush. He hadn't been this loony over someone since high school when he went to sleep every night jerking off to images of the school's star quarterback standing alone and naked in the gym's shower, his back turned and his head bent beneath the spray of water.

Mario cursed softly to himself. He had to stop this. He was an adult not a teenager. He turned suddenly and found himself face to face with Cesar. The big, beautiful eyes locked onto Mario's bare chest and something in the way he looked at the stunt man released the pressure Mario felt inside and he stopped thinking and caring and just leaned down the couple of inches it took to reach Cesar's lips and for a moment he was kissing that first love in the high school gym and then he was kissing Cesar Dominguez.

It didn't start out as much of a kiss. Mario had certainly given and received more practiced ones, but after the first hasty and non-invasive attack on Cesar's lips he had pulled back, staring down into the face that he thought epitomized 'non-pulsed'.

Cesar looked this way for only an eternity of Mario's lifetime and then he reached up and dragged the stunt man's head on it's stiff neck down to his face again and Mario found himself pleasantly and heart-stoppingly surprised at the poetry one could find in a single kiss.

And Cesar discovered that all the times before when he had let a man pleasure his body, he had never allowed himself to connect with the man, only with the act and with Mario he wanted more. There was something in the way the stunt man had stopped and waited for Cesar's response, he had done it simply, daringly, like the stunts he performed for a living and Cesar found himself responding to it eagerly.

He found himself responding to Mario and the hardness of the body against his, the unexpectedly soft and tender places amidst all the unyielding bone and muscle, the struggle of equal strength and then the moment when the struggle altered and they flowed against each other, hungry for more.

It was Mario who broke the connection first, moving back only a few inches, but leaving Cesar feeling cold and alone. He protested and reached out automatically to bring the other man closer, but Mario only smiled and shook his head and gripped his wrist firmly, tugging him out of the room and into the shower area. Mario turned on a blast of warm water and pulled Cesar to stand with him under it, holding him in a close embrace, and he began to kiss him again, turning slowly in a circle under the force of the water, letting it sluice off the top of their heads and pour over their faces; they were drowning in the center of the warm water and their kiss, until they parted, gasping for breath and laughing.

Cesar noted that the scar running along Mario's arm was not his only one. There were others that Cesar could make out in the daylight filtering through the opaque windows centered high in the wall. He lowered his hand and traced his fingers along the hand-sized scar low on Mario's side, feeling its puckered and shiny surface till Mario's hand covered his and he pulled Cesar against him, kissing his shoulder and then his ear, whispering into it, "That one's a long story. I'll tell it to you sometime. Do you have any scars Cesar? If you do I haven't seen them, but then I haven't looked everywhere. Maybe I should give you a more thorough inspection."

Cesar chuckled and moaned alternately as Mario's mouth and hands traveled in a delightful and tantalizing fashion over his wet body. He gasped aloud as Mario's attention lingered over his sensitive nipples and down to his eager cock. He had never been handled so expertly and so tenderly and his eyes closed as his head lolled back against the shower of water that still sprayed behind them and his hips thrust forward with the force of his desire into Mario's mouth. He held Mario's head as it moved along his cock, his hips thrusting gently within Mario's firm grip and then Mario released him completely, turning him against his protests at the cessation of such pleasure until he was standing with his back to Mario and his head bent under the force of the water. It washed delightfully over his flushed body and then Mario's hands were on his hips again, holding him still as his tongue and lips followed the water flowing down his back and into the crevice between his buttocks. Cesar's heart thudded in his chest and a thud of weakness washed through him that shocked him, leaving his legs trembling and his arms reaching out for support that wasn't there.

He cried out, his legs buckling. Mario caught him as he sank down, collapsing into Mario's lap and letting the strong arms encircle his chest, cradling his body close and secure. Mario laughed softly and whispered in his ear above the sound of the water striking the tile floor. "You've never let anyone fuck you have you Cesar?"

Cesar could feel the hardness of Mario's erection pressing against him and the only thing he knew was the near panic that Mario would not soon continue what he had started. He twisted about slightly and turned his face up, pulling Mario's head down, he opened his mouth to the other man's. Cesar couldn't speak; he could only try and show Mario what he was feeling.

Mario tried to pull away enough to say the words, "Cesar, I want to fuck you. If you've never....."

Cesar's eyes pulled the light in the room to them and altered it until it swam in their depths in an intoxicating display and Mario's heart clenched in his chest as he sat before their steady gaze.

"You talk too much, Mario. Just shut up and do not stop. Do not stop, ever."

Mario groaned and he did not stop for words again. They were both beyond words soon enough. The pleasure Cesar felt was washing away his name, his past, the person he thought he was; it flushed it all away like the water rushing down the drain and filled him with something new.

Afterwards, his body collapsed easily back into Mario's arms as the stunt man gathered him once again into his lap and his close embrace. Mario kissed Cesar's temple and the tenderness he felt filled him so fully he couldn't speak. He was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time, but he needed desperately to hear Cesar's voice.

"Are you okay Cesar? I didn't hurt you, Cesar, baby, did I? I was so damn hot for you. I know I could have been easier on you, after all it's ............."

Cesar sighed and turned in Mario's arms till he was once again looking into the concerned face before his. He reached up and silenced Mario with his fingers and smiled as he replied, "Do you think you could stop talking long enough to fuck me again?"

Cesar's fingers dropped from Mario's lips and he placed his hands on either side of the stunt man's head and with great care pressed his lips against each cheek. He pulled back and looked at Mario as he asked, "Well, do you Mario?"

Mario's wide mouth spread in a grin and the gray eyes glinted with that flash of desire that Cesar was beginning to recognize and respond to instantly. This time Mario only nodded.

He and Cesar told each other a great deal, but they did it entirely without words.