Ace of Hearts Ch. 01


Authors Note – Oh hey there. This is a series, but since we really don’t have a bisexual section, this is in gay male because the overarching story is about MLM. Chapter 1 features some M/F, but the rest is exclusively M/M. Thanks!


“Please, Jonny, I am begging you. Don’t be a dick.”

I peer at my sister across the dinner table. I swear if she stares at me any harder I’ll have burns in my head.

“Veronica,” my mother warns, spooning out rice onto our dishes.

“Sorry, ma. You know what I mean though. Please, please, please be nice,” while she speaks using her polite words, her tone doesn’t quite match. I break out into a grin.

“I’m always nice, V,” I chirp.

“Okay that’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Veronica! Ya!” Mom snaps. “Jonny, pórtate bien porfa,” she responds and serves us chicken. It smells fucking amazing.

“I’m always well behaved,” I offer, gazing up at Mami with doe eyes. I bat them for effect. Mami smirks.

“Ay mami, can you back me up here? You made my first college boyfriend go shot for shot with you when you had a full stomach and a nap, and he’d been working all day with no lunch. He got so sick he missed a day of work.”

“It’s not my fault he can’t handle his liquor.”

“You specifically timed it that way!”

“May the best man win,” I shrug.

The topic at hand is Veronica’s new boyfriend. She’s bringing him to meet the family this coming weekend, and for whatever reason, she’s worried about me. It’s delightful.

“Look, if he’s cool, I’m cool.”

“I swear if you fuck with him–“


“Sorry Mami, but I swear Jonny, I really will fuck you up, sorry again Mami.”

Mom puts down her fork with a little more force than necessary. I shovel a big mouthful of chicken and rice in my face.

“Basta, Veronica! Everyone is going to be nice to the boy, come y déjalo,” she snaps.

I sip my beer. Veronica eats as bidden and respectfully says nothing else, but she does glare at me for the rest of the meal.

I beam.

The chicken really is quite delicious.

It’s Saturday, and if I’m completely honest I forgot about the dinner. But if the text from V that reads “Don’t be a dick tonight!!!!” doesn’t remind me, my girl showing up at my apartment looking like a whole ass snack does.

I love everything about Tara. I love how she works to learn Spanish, even though my mom speaks English just fine. I love her drive, her independence, her sense of humor. I love the curve of her hips and her round plush ass. I love her thickness, how everything about her screams divine feminine, her heavy breasts, her red curls spilling down her back.

Forget snack. She’s a whole ass meal.

She’s wearing a black wrap dress that accentuates literally everything and I’m already impatient to unwrap her like a present and feast.

“Girl, lemme taste that,” I croon as she walks through the door. She completely ignores me.

“You’re not going to be a dick to Veronica’s boyfriend are you?” She folds her arms.

Me? Nah.

“Why does everyone think I’m a dick?” I laugh, walk over to her, and pull her in for a hug. I move to kiss her but she pushes my face to the side.

“And ruin my lipstick? You ain’t worth that,” she teases. Whatever. I go for her neck.

Her body folds into mine like a puzzle piece and I breathe her in. Like always, she smells like honeysuckle, clove, and vanilla, a combination that is just so distinctly her.

“What about the time you stalked her prom date on every social media platform and had a ‘heart to heart’ when he came over?”

“Hey, if he can’t handle a simple political conversation that’s on him, not me.”

“And when you let the air out of the tires of that guy with the bridge piercing? You left him a note that next time it would be his lungs for making her cry.”

Get it? Let the air out? “Nobody could prove that was me. Plus, he had a stupid face.”

“Jonny, please.”

I sigh. “Look, I get it. Maybe I’m a little critical about the dudes she brings but she’s my sister AND she has horrible character judgment.”

She squints at me.

“Think of these as favors,” I offer helpfully.

“Well, think of this as a favor to you,” Tara saunters up to me and presses her delicious body against mine. Immediately I’m at half-mast. I smooth my hands down her sides, grasp her bountiful hips, and pull her in tight. This is the shit I do like.

She kisses down my throat and slides her hand over the growing bulge in my sweatpants. I groan and duck to try and claim her lips again, but she’s fast. She makes her way down my chest, stopping briefly to give each of my nipples a little love and I watch the trail of red kisses she leaves behind like an artist signing her work. I am so fucking ready to flip her over.

She sinks to her knees. I grin like a maniac.

“If you give Veronica or her boyfriend a hard time tonight,” she purrs, and slips her hand below Taksim Escort my waistband to grab my now throbbing cock. She slaps my hand away from her head when I reach for her hair.

I pout.

Her grip tightens. “Then this will be the last time you’ll feel this for a hot minute.”

I grab the kitchen island behind me because in one fluid motion she yanks down both my boxers and pants and unleashes the Kraken, watching it slap against my belly. I resist the urge to fist pump in victory.

Delicately, and without breaking eye contact, she runs her tongue from the base of the shaft to the dripping tip, swirling her tongue around the head. I groan. I fucking love her mouth. I watch her pull back, and a string of precum and saliva connects her red stained lips to the head of my cock.

I am on fire. I reach for her head again.

She grabs my wrist mid-motion and pins it down to my side, stopping me for the second time from grabbing her hair.

“Taffeta, darling,” I quote, teasing her. She ignores me again and dives, swallowing my cock-hands free, might I add; she’s still working double time holding my arms down.

“Fuck,” I manage. I watch her take me in, inch by inch, and I fight the impulse to thrust into her throat. She peers up at me with innocent eyes and I thrust anyway; impulse control has never been my strong suit.

She grunts, her eyes tear up, and uses my own hands to pin my hips against the island. Not gently, either.

I lick my lips. “Baby, let me taste.”

She comes back up part way and laps at my dick again, this time starting from under my sack and I shudder and groan. She slides me back into her throat, frustratingly slowly. She’s really drawing this ou–

She stops. She sits up and my cock pops out of her mouth. Literally pops, I could hear the suction seal break.

Come on. What the fuck.

I look down to see her sitting back on her feet, watching my face with a glittering mischief in her green eyes. I grit my teeth. She smiles.

Goddamnit, the fucking cocktease.

“Baby,” I whine and flex my dick. It waves hello. Or goodbye, evidently.


“Baby, how you gonna tease me like this? Right before we go to my mom’s?” I plead. I feel the ache in my balls, and I stroke up and down the length in a desperate bid to relieve the tension.

“Behave tonight and I’ll finish it. Now clean up and go get dressed.” And just like that she gets up and goes to the bathroom to fix her makeup, leaving me to pump my lipstick-stained cock into my fist.

“I always behave,” I grumble.

My mom is really pulling out all the stops for this dinner. Ropa Vieja, arroz with gandules–she’s even prepping yuca and mojo. I blink.

“Macho, trajiste el postre?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Yes! We have the dessert right here,” Tara interjects and drifts over to her with her basket of Italian cookies and pastries with a beam. Tara gives her a kiss on the cheek and my mom pats her face.

“Ay niña, has anyone ever told you that you are súper cool? Oye, is that rosè?” Mami peers into her bag. Tara pulls out the wine with pride.

“Pues claro,” Tara winks. Of course. I wonder if she learned that in Duolingo. She’s so cute when she speaks Spanish.

Tara glances at me with a flirty grin. “Macho,” she teases.

“Que fuerte.” I flex, slap my bicep and kiss it. Strong like bull.

Mami laughs, and it’s my turn to give her a squeeze and a kiss.

“When Asa gets here be good, macho, please,” Mami murmurs so only I could hear while she shreds the beef.

“Mom, c’mon, you too?” Jesus. “I am always good!”

“I remember when you added hot peppers to the nice blonde boy’s food, and his tongue was all thick and we had to give him Benadryl. That was last Christmas.” She rolls her eyes. “Give it a rest y pon la mesa.”

I laugh. I really don’t have a response to that one. He was a dumbass, she only liked him because he had blue eyes and a rich daddy. Blue eyes are a dime a dozen. Besides, how was I supposed to know he was allergic?

I set the table as requested, and while I’m placing the cloth napkins my ridiculous mom gave me, I already start hating on this dude.

Who the fuck is this guy that everyone is so up in arms about? Why are we making such a big deal for this douche?

The front door opens and Veronica bursts in with a gust of cold air, her Effortless Beauty™ look of a form fitting sweater and painted on jeans something I know to be carefully cultivated. She’s wearing quite a bit of makeup to make it look like she isn’t.

Oh, God, she’s really holding a bouquet of flowers. Seriously? I roll my eyes.

“He got you flowers?” I crane my neck to try and catch a glimpse of this chump.

“No, dummy, they’re for mom,” she hisses because she’s a viper or Medusa or both.

I open the closet where Mami keeps her glassware to go grab a vase. Apparently while I’m looking, The King Himself has finally come in, if the squealing is any indication. I emerge, vase in hand, to find Mami hugging Escort Bayan and kissing a man so big he was nearly crouching to accept her affection.

Christ, he’s huge.

I realize as a Latinx dude, my coming in at 6’0 makes me a giant amongst dwarves, but this dude has to be at least 6’4″ or 6’5″. I wonder how many basketball jokes he gets, and which overused height joke I should go with.

“Doña Milagro,” he greets my mom warmly and hands her the bouquet. He has a commanding voice, deep and warm. There’s a sweetness to it, though. Something that arrests my attention.

Mami hugs him happily and offers him absolutely everything in the kitchen like she’s the hospitality coordinator at an all-inclusive resort. Hot towel, sir? I think she may have given away the microwave.

“Damn, ma, you gonna offer him room and board, too?”

She gives me a withering look, but she’s hiding a smile.

“You must be Jonny,” he says, his back to me. Do I detect a glimmer of amusement in his tone? She’s never brought home a sassy one. This might be fun.

Big Guy straightens and turns and, finally, I get a look at his face.

Oh. Um.

This guy…does not have a stupid face.

“Jonathan, this is Asa, Asa, this is Jonathan, Veronica’s brother,” my mother was saying but I could barely hear her.

He doesn’t have blue eyes either.

His eyes, in fact, are the color of honey, half-lidded and lined with thick long lashes. A slow smile spills across his face slow and sweet like molasses, revealing deep dimples and straight white teeth– except for his left canine which manages to be turned enough to give his smile an otherworldly charm without fucking up the merchandise.

Fucking up the merchandise? I need help.

Breaking me out of my reverie, Tara elbows me in the side and snatches the vase. “Stop staring him down, Jonny,” she hisses. “You promised you’d be good.”

“I’m not st–okay but why didn’t anyone tell me he was so–” Hot. “tall?”

Asa’s eyes are bright with laughter which a rich warm sound that I so strangely find myself wanting to hear again. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Damn, he means it, though.

Tara raises her eyebrows. “I’m so sorry for forgetting to file my report. Should I have warned you that he has eyes and a face? Long hair?”

I mean, yeah, she could have told me about the way his straight jet-black hair spills over his broad shoulders like ink, or the way both his cheekbones and jaw could cut glass. Honestly, she really could have mentioned something about how his full lips promise–hold up.

“Wait, you’ve met him?”

And I now describe dudes like paintings. Heh. Because that’s some fine ass art.

Hm. I wonder if I should speak to my therapist.

A hush comes over the room at my question, the only sound being the emphatic tambourines in Julio Iglesias’s Bamboleo. Tara looks oddly guilty. It occurs to me that Mami has been surprisingly affectionate, too.

“Have you all met him before?” I ask, incredulous. “How new is new, exactly?”

I look at everyone who is apparently very busy suddenly. Tara’s putting the flowers in the vase. Mami’s back to the stove. I turn to face my sister who’s hanging their coats, pretending like she’s not listening to every word.

“A year,” Asa replied from behind me. My sister tenses.

“A goddamned year? Are you kidding me?” I whirl back around, pissed, but my heart jumps in my throat. Now we’re face to face and I forget to breathe. Everything about him is perfect. His straight nose with the silver hoop in his nostril. That mouth with the pillowy lips and lazy smile and crooked tooth. I Iick my lips and I can’t think. He should look stupid and girly, but he doesn’t. Not by a long shot. The small hoops in his ears, the nose ring, the hair, that fucking mouth…is somehow the epitome of masculinity.

His expression is apologetic, and I remember I’m supposed to be mad. But when he absently licks his lips, that little glimpse of his tongue has me working to control my breathing.

“As I said, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he repeated. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He offers his hand, but he doesn’t try to overtake mine when we shake. His hands are big and calloused and despite coming in from the cold, they’re hot.

“Only good things I hope,” I respond as is custom, and wag my eyebrows, eliciting another one of those charming smiles that crease his dark and smooth cheeks.

Jesus, he’s so good looking, it’s almost infuriating. Is he Mexican? Native American? Both? Is he possibly an ancient Aztec God coming for a virgin sacrifice? I’m no virgin, but I volunteer as trib– Tara pinches my side. I look at her in surprise.

Stop it, she mouths, giving me a pointed glare.

I, uh, let go of his hand.

I need to get outside. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. I need air.

“Some,” he laughs genuinely. Mmm, that sound. I’ve already forgotten what we’re talking about. “But mostly she talks about how you’re a pain in the ass.”

Ah, yes! We’re istanbul Escort talking about how I’m an asshole, I almost forgot. I peek at my sister. Veronica turns several shades of scarlet.

Mami rushes to fix it, “It’s okay, he promised he’d be good to you.”


“Is that so?” he murmurs, an intense look I can’t read flashing momentarily across his eyes and before I could stop myself, I say, “I’m always good.”

I press my lips together and close my eyes, trying not to laugh like a lunatic.

I look up again, that nervous giggle is still caught in my throat. When bares his teeth in a grin that seems almost predatory and my dick twitches, it occurs to me that I am seriously and completely fucked.

Time to regain control. “You kept this Adonis from me for a year? Y’all have a lot of explaining to do, he’s sooooooooooooooo cuuuuute!” I coo, and the tension in the room immediately breaks with laughter. Veronica looks at me with gratitude.

Thank God.

Over the course of the night, things settle. As usual, Veronica and Tara dominate the conversation, lively and animated. I discover that Asa is irritatingly pleasant. He’s a pretty unassuming guy; mostly smiling and listening. When he does speak, he’s unfortunately funny and thoughtful. His stupid hot crooked grin is easy and frequent and while I want to see it over and over again, I keep my dumb mouth shut.

Ugh. I can see why Veronica likes him.

Mom asks after his father, who apparently is a farmer somewhere in rural PA, because of course he is, and I immediately imagine him as a farm hand. I find myself needing to stop that right quick.

I also learn that he went to fucking Julliard to study music. Oh no, it doesn’t end there, either. Saint Asa ended up transferring schools to be a music teacher instead. He’s frustratingly perfect.

I ask him what he plays.

“Oh.” He smiles and looks down and I see him blush for the first time. It transforms him into the boy next door. Something about it makes me hungry and overheated. I drink some water.

“Strings, mainly. Mostly guitar now,” he peeks at me from under his lashes–oh my god, is he bashful? I’m fucking hard again, Jesus Christ. Am I dying? Can I be?

Veronica misreads my stare and rolls her eyes. Probably for the best.

She sucks her teeth. “My God, you are so modest! Asa plays the standing bass, the cello, AND all ’em violins, too.”

I don’t know who’s looking at him with more adoration, Mami or Veronica. Actually, it might be me, I don’t know. I’ve given up at this point.

“Damn, son!” I exclaim. “Stop lyin’, you know a violin is too small! I know you got that cello up on your shoulder, all fee fi fo fum. Do you spin the bass around by the neck and wear sunglasses inside?”

Veronica turns red, but Asa just laughs. “I even snap my fingers, too.”

“Your turtleneck must be huge,” I clap back.

“You should see it, I could fit two of you in there,” he returns.

“You just wanna see me in your clothes,” I blow him a kiss. Unfortunately, I don’t get to observe his reaction.

“Ow, what?!” I yelp. I think if Tara pinches me any harder I’m going to bruise. I glare at her and she glares back.

“Knock it off, Jonny. You play too much.”

Goddamn. I rub my side. I look back at Asa and find him watching my face with a lazy smile. My stomach flips.

I clear my throat. “So, why’d you switch?”

“Obviously because I kept breaking the violins with my meaty giant’s hands,” he quips and I crack up. Fuck me, I like this dude.

“Plus they hated it when I would say ‘fee, fi, fo, fum’, so I figured the elementary school crowd would be a more appreciative audience,” he adds, his eyes glittering.

That gets a laugh from the table, and I can’t help but smile.

He shrugs. “I dunno. I guess the intensity wasn’t for me.”

“What, and grade school kids aren’t intense?” I raise an eyebrow.

His expression softens and I see that youth in his face again. “A different kind, maybe.”

I swallow the lump in my throat.

After dinner, Asa collects everyone’s plate, to my mother’s extreme delight. When he makes it to my chair, his hand rests on my shoulder and the tips of his fingers brush against my neck.

The heat from his hand shoots through my body directly into my pants, and I find myself struggling with an erection so hard it hurts. I shift uncomfortably, but subtly. I don’t want him to move his hand.

“Can I take your plate?” he murmurs softly, his breath hot on my ear. What is even– I withhold a sigh. I hope. I think that half a blow job may have really fucked me up.

“Uh, yeah,” I rasp, trying to get a handle on the ridiculous feelings coursing through me and my dick. I make a point to not look at his mouth. His fuckable mouth. He takes it and I watch him walk away, eyes glued to his thick sculpted ass. I want to bite it.

“What is wrong with you?” Tara whispers while everyone is busy getting their coffee and I jump out of my skin.

“I don’t know!” I yelp too fast and too loud.

She studies me.

Maybe I should just tattoo the pride flag on my forehead now, and save us all some time. I can see the headline now: Straight Puerto Rican Dude Gay For Sister’s Boyfriend. Entire Latinx Community Thrilled and Accommodating”.

Bir yanıt yazın

E-posta adresiniz yayınlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir