Valinta - Martin - Chapter 2

 Chapter 2- Martin

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“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.” Martin pressed a mug of coffee to his lips. His small, curved mouth pursed to blow on the steaming cup- something that reminded Sirina of just what an amazing kisser he was. A tingle ran up her spine and she shuddered. 

Martin was even more of a sight to behold than usual in the bright morning glow. His dark, wavy hair was glossy in the sunlight, and his amber eyes gleamed even behind his small, practical glasses. He was dressed in an old, black Pendulum T-shirt and distressed, gray jeans. It made Sirina smile to think he wore these under his white coat at work. 

The two had met in Demitasse in Santa Monica, close to Martin’s practice. Sirina had an extra day off before their flight, and on a whim she decided to spend the day in West LA, and had offered her friend a ride to work in the process. She would be staying over at Martin’s townhome in Burbank that night so that both could arrive at the Bob Hope Airport in time for their 5:30 AM flight. Martin had kindly decided to get breakfast with Sirina at her favorite coffee shop before heading to work. 

“Mmm,” Sirina cooled her honey-rose latte before taking a sip. “Easy now. I’m in this for the bottomless mojitos.”

“I think you want to spend a week with a total stud. I can’t really blame you.” Martin stirred his drink, smiling more to himself than Sirina. “What is it about me, hm? The dulcet, angelic tones of my voice? My award-winning ass?  Or, you did always like my mouth, and what it could do...”

Sirina rolled her eyes, genuinely annoyed that Martin still remembered that detail. “It’s your saint-like humility, of course.” 

“Oh, sweet Sirina, you know there is /nothing/ saint-like about me.” Martin winked. Sirina wretched dramatically, not wanting to inflate Martin’s ego any more. He laughed. 

“Okay, fair enough. You’re supposed to help me stay out of trouble, not get into a new kind of it. Still, I hope you can handle me. I’m in party mode already.”

Sirina laughed. “You hardly even drink!”

“Yeah, because then I’d get really crazy!”

“Well, it’s your call as to how hard we go. I’m just along for the ride. If you want to go out clubbing, I brought a dress. If you want to lounge on the beach, I brought a towel.”

“Mmm…” Martin’s eyes sparkled. “I remember how you used to have me put sunscreen on your back whenever we went up to Carpinteria. Even when it was cloudy, you’d get so /red/.” He chuckled. “It was actually pretty cute. My little lobster!”

“I swear to God, if you call me that, I’ll show you what these ‘claws’ do.” 

Martin laughed. “You’ve gotten so much feistier over the years. I love it.” 

“God, you pervy old man…” 

“Oh, how you wound me, dear. I’m not old! I don’t look a day over 26.”

Sirina shook her head, smiling to herself. “Well, I shouldn’t be too mean to you. It’s really nice of you to take me on this trip, Martin. Even if I have to put up with all of your flirting.”

“That’s the spirit! See, I’m not /all/ bad.” He glanced at his watch. “I probably should start walking over, though. You’ll have enough to do around here?”

“Of course. I was planning on just writing at a cafe for a bit, anyway, and then maybe doing some shopping. Ooh! I could pick up some Sidecar doughnuts so that we have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Mmm…you’re speaking my language. Get me a cinnamon one?” 

“I’m on it.” Sirina mock-saluted. 

“Hm,” Martin smiled. “Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“Mm, that isn’t much…”

…

“Rawwwwk! Mommy’s here!” Rocky, Martin’s cocktiel, trilled as Sirina pulled her suitcase through the doorway. 

“Rocky!” Sirina bounded over to his cage and held one of her fingers near the grate. The chatty bird nuzzled it with his beak. “You remember me after all this time!”

“I can’t believe he still calls you ‘Mommy’.” Martin laughed, though his cheeks were bright red. Sirina grinned.

“Well, that’s because he hears you call me that all the time.” 

“Oh, right, of course.” It was refreshing to see Martin be embarrassed, for once. Normally, nothing seemed to phase him. 

“Ruff!” Paco, Martin’s chihuahua, skidded up to Sirina, a cloth toy in his mouth. 

“Awww! Hey there, cutie!” Sirina patted Paco’s head. “I’ve missed you!” Paco weaved in between Sirina’s legs. 

“He’s missed you, too. So have Winny and Leticia.” Only Martin would name a cat “Leticia”.

“Where are they?” Sirina glanced around at Martin’s spacious townhome. The walls were plastered with 70s movie posters, the shelves stacked with Sci-Fi memorabilia. In the living room, an expansive, gray-leather loveseat was littered with blue and green throws. A massive television stood, idle, in the corner. 

“Oh, probably in my bedroom. Here, I made up the guest room, if you’d like to put your suitcase in there. There’s also a shower in the connecting bathroom if you’d like to wash up.” Sirina figured she would shower once she got to the resort- planes were dirty, anyways- but remembered how much of a germaphobe Martin was and vowed to at least wash off her feet after wearing flip-flops all day around Santa Monica. 

“Thanks, Martin.” 

He was sorting through some mail, his face turned in profile. Martin’s small, oval glasses were perched on his long Spanish nose, his thick lashes shrouding his downturned eyes.  He looked…regal. Sirina remembered in that moment just how often Martin’s beauty once transfixed her. He turned, smiling coyly. 

“What are you staring at?”

“What? Nothing! I- I was just lost in thought.”

“Hmm,” Martin approached her slowly, his gait almost cat-like. Even at 5’6”, and with a lithe physique, he seemed to fill up every inch in the lofty room. “About what?” 

Sirina blushed, turning to look at her suitcase and stifling a nervous giggle. “No- nothing. I’m just excited.”

Martin mercifully decided to drop the subject. “Do you get nervous on flights? I have pills.” 

“You and I both know you shouldn’t give them to me. And nah…the unpredictable nature of living makes me stressed, but not the unpredictable turbulence of air travel.” 

Martin grinned. “Well, I’m glad. If you vomit on my lap again, we’re gonna have problems.” Sirina groaned. She had puked in front of Martin on their third date because she was just so nervous. 

“Are you gonna remind me of that forever?”

“I think so. It’s pretty amusing to see you turn bright red like this.” Martin slipped off his T-shirt, not caring if Sirina looked at his bare chest. Which she did, out of the corner of her eye. 

“Show-off,” she murmured, trying not to flush even more. 

“Don’t worry, Sirina.” Martin rolled his skinny jeans off his toned calves, which were covered in fine black hair. “You’ll have plenty of chances to see me shirtless in Cabo. I’m told I’m just /radiant/ in the sun.” He languidly made his way up the stairs, presumably in pursuit of some pajamas. Against her better judgment, Sirina followed him. 

“Ohh, Sirina!” Martin winked. “Hoping for a private show? Was the preview really that irresistible?” 

“Okay, first of all, shut up. Second, are you going to be strutting like this in front of me the whole trip?”

Martin grinned like the little shit he was. “I definitely intend to. Why? Does that /bother/ you?” 

Sirina blushed. /Bother/, no. It just made her absurdly horny. Still, Martin was Martin, and Sirina realized that going with him to a beach ran the risk of public nudity. Speaking of which, she was pretty sure there were nude beaches in Mexico. 

“Mmm, Sirina, I hope you’ve packed appropriate attire for the destination. I was very much hoping to see you in a bikini.”

“Well, I just so happened to bring my burkha.”

Martin laughed, slipping on a cotton T-shirt from a 5K they’d run ages ago over in Chatsworth. “I bet I could see your curves even in that.” 

Sirina rolled her eyes. Martin was referring to her butt. There was simply no missing it. “Voi herra Jumala, why do I even try with you…? Pervert.”

“Okay, okay…” Martin raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise. No more comments on your gargantuan booty.”

“Hm!” Sirina nodded, folding her arms. 

“Oh, Siri, don’t be mad at me…” Martin slung an arm around her rigid shoulder. “I just like teasing you. I’m not going to be an actual creep, I promise.”

Sirina cracked a smile. “Oh, I know. Because Krista would kill you.”

Martin laughed. “I’d believe that. So, if we can’t relax before the flight with some mind-melting sex, how about wine?”

Sirina raised an eyebrow. “I thought you hardly drank.”

“This is a special occasion.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yeah. We always wanted to go to Mexico together.”

“That we did.” Sirina smiled fondly. “Now you’ve got me all nostalgic. I remember, you promised to take me to one of you family reunions out in Veracruz.”

Mirth filled Martin’s eyes. “Yeah…and I promised to spray you every hour so that you wouldn’t get eaten alive by mosquitoes.”

“Oh, yeah!” Sirina giggled. “I totally forgot, you /did/ say that.”

“Mmm…you’re so high-maintenance, you know that? Putting me on sunscreen /and/ bug-spray detail.”

“Oh,” Sirina scoffed lightheartedly, “don’t even talk about high maintenance, mister. You take a million pictures everywhere we go. Plus, I get ready in five minutes every morning. Can you say the same?”

“Hmm…you know, I hate when you have a point.” 

… 

“We should stop!” Sirina wiped her eyes, still laughing, and glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight- their flight was in less than six hours.

“Hey, I only had two!” Martin pressed his glass to his lips, savoring the last sip.”

“So did I!”

“You had three, and you’re very tipsy, lightweight.”

“Hmm,” Sirina smiled, the edges of the room around her bathed in a soft glow. “That was good wine.”

“I’m glad. I remembered you loved Prosecco.”

“Mmm…I like bubbles,” Sirina agreed, laying her head on Martin’s shoulder. “Maaaaaaartin-“

He laughed. “Yes, I can hear you! What?” Martin absently stroked Sirina’s hair while still keeping his gaze on the glass. 

“I’m so horny. But I hate hookups.” Sirina slumped forward, laying her head on the table before turning it to the side to face Martin. He cracked up. 

“Hey, if you need ‘private time’ in the room, you can have it.”

Sirina giggled. “Pffft. You’re so nice.”

“Yeah, and you’re so drunk, missy. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“You know what I miss doing?” Sirina leaned in to Martin’s ear, but missed it, her breath hot on his neck instead. “I want to dominate the /fuck/ out of a guy. But sweetly, you know? Not in a mean way. I just wanna tie him up and make him…hmn, beg to cum while I wear sexy leather clothes. And then I let him cum! But he has to call me ‘Mistress’…”

Martin’s neck flushed red, and a delicious shiver ran down his spine. He had to bite his lip so that he wouldn’t moan. “Okay, that is /definitely/ enough booze for you! Come on, off to bed, Siri. You’re gonna have a hell of a hangover if you don’t drink some water…”

“Mn…” Sirina grabbed Martin’s hand and rose to stand. “I don’t get hangovers,” she yawned, “I’m Finnish.”

“You aren’t Finnish when you drink, that’s for sure. Here, can you walk to your bed while I get you some water?”

Sirina slung her arm around Martin’s neck and sang his name. “Martiiiiii~n!”

“I’ll answer whatever ridiculous question you have if you get under the covers.”

“Hmmn,” Sirina grinned. “‘Kay.”

Martin shook his head, smiling, and grabbed her a glass of water from the kitchen with extra ice. He walked into the guest bedroom, pleased to find Sirina already burrowed under the covers. He handed the glass to her, and she dutifully drank. 

“You take your pills?” Martin brushed Sirina’s bangs from her eyes.

“Mn…they’re in my toiletry bag. In the morning…I didn’t forget, promise.”

Martin patted Sirina’s shoulder. “Okay. What did you wanna ask me?”

“Hmm…Martin, am I weird?”

Sirina’s friend laughed. “Sirina, you’re one of the weirdest fucking people I’ve ever met.”

“No, I mean…because I like to be dominant. I’m not mean during it, I swear! It’s just…Andy got me into it.”

Martin’s heart lurched. For as open as he was about sex, it wasn’t his place to tell Sirina that her tying him up and making him beg sounded like the culmination of his deepest fantasies. “…No, Siri. That’s not weird at all. I just didn’t expect to hear that from you.”

“Mmm…” Sirina was already dozing off, a yawn invading her voice. “Do guys like dominant women?”

Martin patted Sirina again, swallowing hard. “…Yes,” he finally spoke. “We love them. Now get some sleep.”

“Mnnn, Martin! Don’t leeeeaaaave!”

Martin laughed, his voice reedy. “I need to sleep, too!”

“Sleep here! Pleaaase?”

“Siri…” Martin couldn’t tell Sirina that he needed his own hand and a steamy shower after her confession. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed tomorrow. Morning will come soon. Just get some rest, okay.”

“Hnnn…” Sirina curled on her side. “Kauniita unia, Martin.”

Martin shut the door softly behind him before racing up the stairs. He couldn’t seem to strip and switch on the shower fast enough. He bit down on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, muffling the moans that already threatened to escape him, and curled his long fingers around his flushed cock. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he murmured against the humid skin, his mind torturing him with the delicious thought of kneeling in front of Sirina. /Fuck/, that was exactly what he wanted. He had no idea that Sirina wanted it, too. She was so innocent, back when they dated... “Mih-treh…” he drooled down the side of his hand and bit harder. The idea of her riding him while he was tied to a chair, her red hair wild and messy and spilling onto his chest while she moved, her hand gripping the side of his throat, was finally what made him see white. His hips stuttered into his hand, and he gasped hoarsely, his lips pursing as he rode out the electric jolts that wracked his body. He leaned forward against the cool tiles, his legs shaking. 

Martin loved sex, in all of its glorious permutations. If someone wanted him to take charge, he could do that- his pleasure, after all, came from knowing he gave another person an /unmatched/ experience. He took immense pride in being the best lover anyone could have. However, nothing was hotter for him than knowing that someone craved him so badly, so desperately, that they just had to own him entirely- especially when this was an otherwise prim sort of woman. 

Martin sighed, fastening his Rolex back onto his wrist and stepping back into his boxers. He had to be up in three hours, and he was not looking forward to dragging with a hungover Sirina out of bed before she had her coffee.

—-

Author’s note: I’m having way more fun writing Martin than I thought I would. I write scenes out of order, and the other night I wrote a super-emotional scene between him and Sirina that absolutely *wrecked* me. This guy has hidden depths! 

A few translations are in order:

“Voi herra Jumala” = Finnish for “Oh, my God” or “Oh, God” (literally, it’s “Oh, Mr. God” lol)

“Kauniita unia” = “Sweet dreams”

“Mih-treh” = it’s just Martin trying to say “Mistress” while his hand is in his mouth. 😅