The Raw Prawn

by Connie Bailey

  “You’re in luck. I’m a wealthy man.” Ben brandished his ticket.

  “Indeed you are,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Shall we join the lads?”

  Jen and Ben met Jarold and Russ at the stable where the Raw Prawn was being pampered by her handlers. The spoiled filly deigned to sniff their fingers and accept a piece of carrot from each before losing interest. The humans left the gifted athlete to her cool down and went in search of refreshment for themselves.

  “THANK you for inviting us,” Ben said as they raised glasses in a toast.

  Jen looked around the luxurious North Shore apartment, her eyes drawn to the view of the harbor bridge through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels. “Sorry to be crass, but do you own this flat?”

  “I can’t believe it myself,” Russ said. “Who would ever have dreamed that a ratbag like me would end up in a posh place like this?”

  “Me,” Jarold said, pouring more wine for everyone. “You guys wouldn’t believe the touch Russ has with the animals.”

  “I would,” Ben said. “He’s worked with some real beasts in his time.”

  “That’s the past,” Jarold said firmly. “Russ is a well-respected trainer now.”

  “And how have you two managed accommodations?” Jen wanted to know.

  “For now, we’re flip-flopping visas,” Jarold said. “Six months is the maximum either of us can stay in America or Australia.”

  “Endless summer,” Russ enthused.

  Ben and Jen exchanged a glance. “Probably not wise to brag about circumventing immigration laws to a policeman and a magistrate,” Davis said.

  “I’ve never stood accused of wisdom before,” Russ said. “And I don’t believe I’m guilty of it now.”

  Jarold cuffed his lover lightly on the back of the head. “Smartass. Without Mazie around to sit on you, you’re out of control.”

  “Mazie?” Jen echoed.

  “My sister,” Jarold said. “She’s got Mr. Charm’s number. None of the rest of us can resist him, but when he starts weaseling, Mazie always calls him on it.”

  “And she knew you were gay before you did,” Russ pointed out.

  “That’s true.” Jarold leaned over to kiss Russ on the temple as he rose. “I’ll be back with some tucker,” he said.

  “Let me help,” Jen offered as she followed the American into the kitchen.

  Ben took another sip of his wine and studied Russ over the rim of the glass. “That’s a nice ring,” he said at last.

  Russ held up his left hand to display a thick gold band set with a yin-yang symbol cut from black and white pearl. “She’s a beaut, ay?” he said.

  “Looks a bit like a wedding band.”

  “Jazza and I aren’t officially married,” Russ said. “But we feel married and that’s enough for us for now. Of course, if either of us falls pregnant….”

  “Oh do shut up, you mongrel. You’ve done well, and I’d not like to see you muck it up by making a joke of it.”

  “That’s how I’ve always coped. The honest truth is that I love Jazza so much I have to be a bit of a larrikin from time to time just to keep from becoming a disgusting, besotted mess.”

  “Even after three years together?”

  “It gets stronger all the time,” Russ confided. “So strong that when we first went to America and were living with his family, I was afraid I’d disappear right into him, become him and lose my… Russness, for lack of a better word.”

  “Individuality?” Ben suggested.

  “Good enough,” Russ said. “After a while, I realized that they weren’t trying to push me into anything. They were just trying to make me feel a part of the family.”

  “They sound lovely.”

  “Better than I deserve… ow! Jazza! Sneaky sod!” Russ reached behind him and grabbed at Jarold, who bounced back out of reach. “And you,” Russ turned accusingly to Ben Davis. “You saw him coming.”

  “I was sworn to silence,” the policeman said. “And for some reason, seeing you getting smacked makes me come over all tingly-like.”

  “Why are boys forever arsing about?” Jennifer wanted to know as she set a salad bowl down on the dining table. “Come and eat.”

  “What did you two find to talk about?” Russ asked Jarold as they sat.

  “You know: girl stuff.”

  Ben laughed and then apologized for spraying the tablecloth with lobster bisque. Jen remarked on how good the soup was and Russ proudly informed her that it was Jarold’s work. Jarold modestly accepted compliments on the dinner he’d prepared that morning, protesting that it wasn’t that big a deal, he enjoyed cooking, and that Russ had selected the wine for each course. Ben declared that he’d never had such an elegant meal, and Russ wryly observed that the newly promoted captain should get out a bit more. By dessert time when Jarold brought out the pavlova, they were all very mellow and talking like the old friends they were. Russ glanced away from his conversation with Ben and looked at Jarold sitting opposite him.

  The candlelight that gilded the white roses of the centerpiece illuminated Jarold’s skin with the same pearly radiance, and his eyes glowed blue as the windows of heaven. Russ blinked away excess moisture and flashed on the memory of Jarold as he’d first seen him, hair long and disheveled, three days’ worth of scruff on his cheeks, beautiful, artless, and desperate. The American boy had made Russ a better man just by showing up in his life, and Russ was finally beginning to believe Jarold’s assertion that the reverse was true as well.

  Jarold felt Russ’s gaze on him and slid his eyes from Jen’s face to smile at his lover. Still listening to the woman, Jarold let his gaze dwell on his handsome man and thought back on the unlikely series of events that had brought them together and kept them together until they realized that they couldn’t live without one another. He had been drifting; Russ gave him an anchor and an answer to all his questions.

  “They’ve forgotten we’re here,” Ben said to Jen.

  “I envy them,” she said, sipping her champagne.

  Russ and Jarold broke eye contact with a snap that was almost audible. “Sorry,” Jarold said with a sheepish shrug. “It… happens.”

  Ben observed the gleam in Russ’s ale-brown eyes and cleared his throat. “My goodness, is that the time? I should probably be getting home.”

  “We actually can control ourselves,” Russ said. “I’m not about to sweep the cutlery to the floor and give Jarold a root among the remnants of the meringue.”

  Jen raised her eyebrows. “I’m not certain I’d protest,” she said. “Or even turn my head.”

  Jarold laughed at Russ’s stunned expression, provoking his partner to a cocky response. “As if you’d really stay and watch us make love,” he dared.

  “You’re probably right.” Jen took a drink. “I’m not that big a perv, though from the sounds the two of you make in the bedroom, I’d wager it’s worth a look.”

  “Give it up, mate,” Ben advised Russ. “You’re a sharp bugger, but she’s sharper.”

  Russ looked inclined to continue sparring, but Jarold spoke first. “We’d love it if you’d join us at the track barn tomorrow for lunch.”

  “I hope there’ll be something to eat besides oats and hay,” Ben said.

  “Count on it,” Russ smirked. “Jarold’s set on introducing you to our head groom, big bloke from Northern England name of Declan Hart. A real slice of beefcake.”

  “Doing a bit of matchmaking?” Jen said archly. “It’s never wise to meddle in affairs of the heart, young gentlemen, and I’m afraid I must decline. I have work to do.”

  “I’ll come for lunch,” Ben said. “But if I get even a hint that you’re trying to fix me up, I’ll bolt, I warn you.”

  “Russ’s just pulling your leg,” Jarold said, standing as Jen rose to her feet.

  Ben and Russ got up, Russ tipping Ben a wink that said he wasn’t kidding at all. The policeman gave the reformed rent-boy a look of warning that was blithely ignored as Russ turned to Jarold. Jarol
d came around the table to stand at Russ’s side, fitting easily into the space next to the other man as though it had been carved to his contours. Russ’s right arm went around Jarold’s waist as Jarold’s left hand settled on Russ’s shoulder in choreography so well practiced it was second nature, bodies blindly seeking the reassurance of touch, unwilling to be parted by so much as the length of an arm. The charming, scapegrace Australian and the earnest American blue-blood complemented and completed one another so seamlessly that they had no real need for anyone else’s company. They enjoyed their friends, but right now, their friends could see that it was time to leave them to themselves.

  Jarold closed the door on their company and leaned against it. “Did you have a good time?”

  Russ shrugged out of his candy-apple-red jacket, letting it fall to the floor. “Yeah,” he answered as he pulled open the neck of his shirt. “But I’m about to have a better one.”

  “You’re being pretty presumptuous, aren’t you?”

  “Am I?” Russ put his palms against the door on either side of Jarold’s head.

  “You’re assuming I want to have sex with you.”

  “Only because you do,” Russ brought his face close to Jarold’s, rubbing his cheek against the other man’s like a tomcat asking to be stroked.

  “What makes you so sure?” Jarold tilted his head back to make it easier for Russ to nuzzle at his neck.

  Russ cupped Jarold’s crotch. “Well, there’s this.” He squeezed his lover’s hard-on.

  “Oh yeah… that,” Jarold moaned.

  “Don’t ever forget, Jazza: I’m the Thunder from Down Under.”

  “Too right,” Jarold agreed, wrapping his arms around Russ and sliding his hands down to the Australian’s firm buttocks.

  “Mmm,” Russ purred as Jarold kneaded his ass. “You know, I like you in black, Jazza, but I like you even better out of it.” He grasped the hem of Jarold’s long sleeved silk T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Jarold obligingly raised his arms and Russ tossed the expensive garment over his shoulder before pressing his bare chest to Jarold’s as he took the other man’s mouth in a famished kiss. “God, it’s been hours,” he said when their lips parted.

  “It’s uncanny how much I miss you after just a few hours,” Jarold said. “My body actually aches, like an addict going through withdrawal.”

  “Shhh.” Russ put a finger on Jarold’s lips. “I’m always going to be here, Jazza,” he said, the way he always did.

  “Pinky swear?” Jarold asked, as he had when he and Mazie were children.

  “Pinky swear.” Russ completed the litany, hooking his little finger through Jarold’s and giving it a good tug. “Fair dinkum.”

  Jarold leaned forward and covered Russ’s mouth with his, heart so full his ribs ached with trying to contain it. “I really liked what you said about the table,” he murmured against Russ’s lips.

  Russ drew back a little. “The… table?”

  “You know, what you said about table, and me, and the meringue.”

  “Yeah?”

  Jarold nodded, his lips brushing Russ’s shoulder in a series of feathery kisses that ended at an attention-hungry nipple. The Australian gasped as strong white teeth bit down on sensitive flesh before it was soothed by a wet tongue and cooling puff of breath. “That feels bloody marvelous,” he said.

  “Not bad for a straight boy, huh?”

  “I’ve taught you well, young Padawan,” Russ teased, his breath hissing in through his teeth as Jarold nipped a little harder. “And of course you have abundant natural talent.”

  “That’s better,” Jarold said, taking Russ’s hand and leading him back across the room. Jarold hopped up to sit on the edge of the table and Russ moved between his thighs. They necked for a long time, making creative use of the leftovers still on the plates. Russ was licking meringue from Jarold’s upper lip when the play turned as serious as it ever did. Putting a knee on the table, Russ surged up, bearing Jarold to his back amid the serving dishes. He took a creamy rose from the vase and used it like a paintbrush to place an invisible mark on all the places he intended to kiss. When the velvet petals brushed the velvet of Jarold’s arousal, the American arched into the caress with a long sigh. “You always manage to bring something new to the table,” he said.

  “Aw, that was bloody awful, sport,” Russ said, his lips replacing the blossom, kissing his way up the hard column of flesh. “You don’t deserve the head job you’re about to enjoy.”

  “C’mere,” Jarold said urgently. “Get up on the table so I can reciprocate.”

  Russ clambered onto the polished wood, planting one knee in a bowl of raspberry syrup and infecting them both with giggles. By the time the sweet sauce was licked off, they had no breath for laughing, saving it for the cries of pleasure their fondling evoked. Neither could take much of the mutual fellatio before the need to join became overwhelming. Pinning Jarold’s thigh to the table, Russ dipped his finger in the spilled syrup and smeared it around his lover’s entrance. Jarold moved restlessly, clutching fistfuls of the rucked-up tablecloth as Russ lavished the attention of his lips, fingers and tongue on the musky opening. One of Jarold’s hands bumped the cruet of salad oil, and he grabbed at the crystal container. “Here,” he panted. “Use it. Now.”

  “Are you ready for me, Jazza?” Russ looked up, lightly stroking Jarold’s inner thighs with his nails. “Because I could do this all night.”

  “I couldn’t. I’d fuckin’ explode and you’d be left to clean up the mess.”

  “I’d lick up each sweet and salty drop, but if my enormous, raging manhood is what you crave, who am I to deny you?”

  Jarold gazed up at his lover in amused affection. “You’re such a brat,” he said softly.

  “You know you love it,” Russ said, nuzzling the head of his cock against Jarold’s spit-shiny entrance. “Tell me you love it.”

  “I love it,” Jarold moaned, tilting his pelvis invitingly. “Come on, babe. Put it in and remind me of why I keep you around.”

  “Tosser,” Russ said fondly as he worked the tip of his arousal into Jarold. “I should’ve let Leith keep you, you slag. Too bad you’re too ugly to make much money.”

  “I’d say that’s a good thing… oof!” Jarold let out a big breath as Russ pushed into him. “And so’s that. Oh yeah. Don’t stop there. Give me all of you.”

  “Greedy, whining bastard.” Russ did as Jarold asked, driving smoothly into the narrow channel until his heavy sack slapped lightly against the hard curves of Jarold’s ass. “How does that suit you?”

  “No more talking,” Jarold gasped. “Just fuck me.”

  “Bossy too,” Russ observed as he shifted his balance, making Jarold whimper. “Ah Christ, but I do love the noises you make, Jazza. I love the way your eyelashes brush your cheekbones when you make that face you’re making right now. I love how you moan when I do this.” Russ withdrew until he was at the brink. “It makes you sound desperate for my cock and gets me so hot I’m afraid I’ll melt all over you.”

  “That… sounds good… to me. C’mon. C’mon,” Jarold whispered anxiously.

  Russ kept Jarold’s knee flat against the table with his palm and lifted Jarold’s other leg in the crook of his elbow. Jarold rolled onto his shoulders and onto the dessert platter without noticing. Russ leaned in, scooping up a mouthful of pavlova before bringing his lips to Jarold’s. The sweet meringue mixed with their own unique tastes, creating a third flavor that ice cream in heaven should taste like. Slow, steady, and deep, Russ plumbed the depths of his lover’s desire with the only yardstick he had handy. Jarold responded enthusiastically, trading caress for caress, meeting each thrust with solid resistance, grinding against the hardness that stretched him, filling him so perfectly that he didn’t know where the dividing line was anymore. Russ rocked into the snug sheath that clung so jealously to his aching arousal, feeling that magical merging sensation, as though he and Jarold had become one in body as they were in spirit. His gaze rose from
the point where they fused and met Jarold’s pleasure-fogged eyes. They never needed words between them when they were like this. Each could read the signs that meant they were on the right trail and that soon they would meet up and ride together to the sweet conclusion of this race with two winners.

  Russ increased the speed of his stroke, hefting Jarold’s leg to his shoulder and reaching for the other man’s cock. Lacing his fingers through Jarold’s, Russ picked up the rhythm and urged Jarold to give him control. Jarold let his hand slide lower, cupping his balls and pulling them up out of the way as Russ sank in to the hilt. Bending Jarold double, Russ leaned in to take the sweet mouth again as pleasure coiled tighter in their groins. Jarold moaned into Russ’s mouth as the Australian pumped his straining length to a quicker beat. Russ lifted his head so he could see that beatific look that transfigured his lover’s face as joy broke over him like an epiphany. Jarold’s eyelids rose to half-mast so he could gaze on the dark, burning eyes of his lover inciting him to orgasm.

  “Oh hell yes!” Jarold yelped as his cock jerked against Russ’s palm and spurted a thick stream of cum. He bore down with his sheath as his climax spun out, his twitching erection spitting out two more small loads as Russ rocked into him twice before his release slammed into him with the usual category five force. His seed spooled out deep inside Jarold, and he liked the fact that some of it was absorbed, becoming part of Jarold. Maybe he was a little bit obsessed, but he wasn’t going to stress about it. Jarold thought they could have a sweet life together despite all the roadblocks people wanted to put up, and Russ was going to give it his best try. “I love you so much,” he said as he lifted Jarold’s leg down and kissed him, pouring all his heart into it.

  Jarold pulled Russ down to rest in the cradle of his arms and legs. “I love you more,” he said, his lips moving against Russ’s forehead.