Coda 05 -Paris a to Z

wasnt that he couldnt or wouldnt let me come in his mouth. It was that he couldnt swallow while holding his breath. He buried his head in my groin as he tensed, his breath held, and I stroked myself the rest of the way there while he trembled between my legs.
We stayed that way for a while, both of us catching our breath, but he finally lifted his head and looked up at me with a smile. His breathing was almost back to normal.
“I got cum in your hair,” I said.
“Its cool,” he said. “Told you Id have time for a shower.”
    W HEN I arrived in the lobby with Angelo, Matt, and Jared, only Jon was there waiting for us. I hated myself for the way my heart jumped into my throat at the mere sight of him. I didnt want to talk to him. I didnt want to smile and congratulate him. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back to our room. But the others were all walking up to him, shaking his hand, saying hello. I couldnt avoid him forever.
    Matt and Jared went first, shaking his hand. Matts greeting was stiff and barely friendly, but Jareds was genuinely cheery. Angelo went next. “Congratulations, man,” Angelo said.
    I could see the little bit of effort it took for Jon to act normal with Ang—I still knew him well enough to detect the rigid set of his shoulders and the stiffness to his smile. But he thanked him. And then it was my turn. I wanted to think that things wouldnt be awkward between us, and yet, how else could they be after what Id done?
    “Zach,” he said.
    He was looking at me with a question in his eyes, trying to decide how I was going to behave around him. Our last meeting had been less
    than friendly, on my part at any rate. It took some effort to speak, but I managed to say, “Hello, Jon.”
    He smiled a bit at that and stepped toward me, one arm reaching for me. He was going to hug me. It wasnt even that I objected so much as that I was thinking of Angelo and the jealousy Id seen on his face two years ago in Vegas. I didnt want to put him through that again. And so I held up my hand, stopping Jon short.
    He sighed, stepping back again and shaking my hand instead. “Im glad you came,” he said. But I knew, looking in his eyes, that I had hurt him. Again. I hated to think how often in our last year together Id seen that look, always caused by something I had done. I did this time what Id done every time before: I pretended I didnt care.
    Cole arrived a minute later, and we followed him out the door and down the sidewalk. We headed away from the Place Vendôme. All the buildings looked the same to me: approximately five stories, flat faced, either gray or white or cream-colored stone. They had uniform arches at street level, and in the stories above that, tall rectangular windows every few feet, one on top of the other. The streets seemed impossibly narrow, and were filled with strange, small cars. After Colorado, where just about everybody drove SUVs, I felt like I was walking around in matchboxland.
    Whether from our conversation, or simply from Angelos enthusiasm, Cole seemed to have taken a personal interest in showing Angelo as much of Paris as he could. They walked ahead of us. Sometimes Cole would hook his arm in Angelos, or even take his hand as he led him from place to place. They were moving fast, in and out of shops, looking in windows, while the rest of us trailed slowly behind. They were like hummingbirds, and we were lumbering pigeons.
    “Is he always like that?” I asked Jon. I regretted it immediately. I hadnt meant for it to sound like I was insulting the man he loved.
    Jon didnt seem to mind. He was between Jared and I, with Matt behind us. He looked ahead of us to where Cole was trying to push some kind of scarf at Angelo, and Angelo was laughingly pushing it away. Jon smiled fondly. “Yes,” he said. “Hes always like that. Hes really pleased that you all came. I should tell you now, hes going to try to pay for everything. And I do mean everything . Weve set up accounts with the hotel and with several of the restaurants and shops in the area. Ill give you a list. Any of them you go to, just tell them its on the Davenport account.”
    “I thought he preferred Fenton,” Jared said, and Jon grinned at him. “He does.”
It was so much like what Cole had said to me about calling Jonathan
    “Jonny,” and it made me wonder what kind of relationship they had exactly that they would intentionally goad each other. “Hes going to be throwing money at you all