by J P Sayle
Joe felt his panic build with each new wave that hit. Barely acknowledging the pain in his fingers, his mind wouldn’t let him loosen his grip, overlooking the metal shavings digging into his palms. Fuck, shit, bastard, whoever the hell invented travel should be fucking shot. Feeling a sob rise, Joe battled to keep calm; it can’t be much longer, surely?
He couldn’t help the glare he threw at the toddler who squealed in delight in her father’s arms when each wave crashed into the boat, making it dip drastically towards the water.
Sucking in another breath, Joe braced his legs, or attempted to, but trying to lock jelly in place was never going to happen. This couldn’t go on for much longer, his shaking, fatigued arms were in full agreement. He couldn’t go on for much longer.
Minutes later Joe all but jumped for joy as the shoreline came into view, never had there been a more welcomed sight. His cramped fingers finally releasing the rail, Joe gave them a thorough check, before brushing off the metal shavings. His relieved sigh lasting seconds before the attacking pins and needles flooded his hands. Groaning in agony Joe vigorously rubbed his fingers together, growling at the stabbing sensations and shaking his hands to no avail.
Joe became distracted by the men readying the boat for docking. So much so, he nearly missed the little castle that sat in the bay. How intriguing was that, who would put a tiny castle in the sea? He wondered what on earth its purpose was, because it was far too small to be of any useful purpose, surely. Taking out his phone, he did a quick search. Reading he became more intrigued, ‘the Tower of Refuge in Douglas Bay was built in 1832 by Sir William Hillary, the founder of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. This small fort was designed to provide shipwrecked sailors a safe place to stay and sit out a storm.’ Joe gazed back, thinking there couldn’t have been many men on those ships.
His gaze drifted past the tiny castle to the golden sand that seemed to stretch for miles. His eyes strained, blinking, thinking he was seeing things when palm trees swayed along the shoreline. It gave the long promenade a tropical feel, lush palm leaves shone, stroked by the dipping sun. Joe felt the first genuine smile stretch across his face, taking away some of the darkness that had prevailed inside him for months.
It was such a pretty island. A contented feeling settled inside his chest as the boat bumped into the dock. Strange emotions flooded through him, washing some of the weariness from his body. A feeling of being welcomed coursed through him. Joe struggled to understand all the mixed emotions that advised he had found home. Uncertainty had him choosing to not examine things too closely, instead enjoying the bubbling excitement building in him. It was a welcome relief after the distress he’d endured for the past six months.
The roar of multiple bike engines filled the air, making him lose track of his thoughts. Peering down at the dock, the number of motorbikes on the quayside gave him pause. His earlier research floated to the front of his mind. Well, crap he’d missed the Isle of Man festival of Motorsport, calculating it had finished a few days earlier. He tried to remember what day it was, he sucked his lip between his teeth in concentration. He frowned when he couldn’t even remember what the date was. It would appear time meant nothing when you had been battling evil. His negative thoughts were drowned out by the speaker behind his head blaring.
His hands moved quickly to cover his ears as a booming voice announced. “All vehicle owners please attend to your vehicle’s ready for disembarkation.” Joe flinched, his head pounding from the noise. Did it have to be so loud?
His eardrums ached, the ringing it left behind persisted for several minutes while he watched people scurry back to their vehicles. Following suit, Joe headed to his van. It was never a more welcome sight, knowing he’d finally get off the rock and roller ride. He didn’t think too hard about the fact he would need to get back on it at some point in the future. He hadn’t made any concrete plans, leaving his ticket open-ended.
His thoughts shifted to where he was headed. Joe sucked his lip between his teeth feeling a little perturbed he wasn’t going to be staying with Martin, even if he would only be fifty feet away. He absently rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about living with a stranger. Okay, he wasn’t a complete stranger, Joe shrugged off his own snooping. He knew it was intrusive to do a background search on his new landlord. He shook it off, feeling justified after everything he’d been through.
Stuart though didn’t appear to have any skeletons in his closet. A loving son, his only sin appeared to be working for an evil bastard. Hiding his sexual orientation so he could pay debts incurred through his father’s illness. Those actions didn’t scream monster, in fact it demonstrated a solid character, a man of honour. Well, Joe hoped so. The picture he had unearthed a little grainy taken years ago, offered little. Odd that even at the trial there had been no close-ups of Stuart Wilson’s face.
Brad had given little away about Stuart when they’d talked on FaceTime, relaying only small snippets of their joint past. The one thing Joe found strange was Brad and Stuart’s relationship considering their past history. Joe was convinced he was missing a piece of the puzzle, for whatever reason, Brad was holding back.
Joe hadn’t let on to Brad how much digging he’d done and how much he’d already known about Brad’s history. Joe had used FaceTime to get to know the quirky little man that had captured his best friend’s heart, coming to see why Martin was so enamoured. Brad may have suffered unimaginable pain in his childhood, but he’d not let it stop him being a warm loving man. Joe was looking forward to getting to spend time with him in person. Joe chewed his lip lost worrying if Brad would like him in person.
The sun burst through the opening cargo doors catching him off guard. Joe swore, his vision obscured by the sudden blinding light. He snatched up his Oakley’s of the dashboard, flicking down the sun visor blocking the low lying sunlight. Cursing his small stature, I’ll never be able to see the bloody road at this rate. Joe wriggled to adjust the seat position higher, before programming the Google map directions into the sat nav. His earlier excitement flooded back as he pulled into the traffic.
Twenty minutes later he questioned if he was in the right place. There couldn’t be such little traffic surely? Martin had lived in London for fuck sake, why would you move to bumfuck nowhere, even if it was quaint? Thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time to Kings of Leon, Joe’s grin spread, letting this new reality sink in. He took it all back, the place was absolute bliss when he considered the torture of the motorways and UK’s busy roads.
Distracted by the view of the sea he could see on the horizon entering Kirk Michael, he indicated pulling into the first layby he could see.
Wow, just total wowser.
His stunned eyes soaked up everything. Joe relaxed into the seat letting go of months’ worth of tension; muscles slowly released, easing the pain he’d lived with longer than was healthy. His body unwound, allowing him to wallow in the moment. A sudden thought popped into his head making him grin, this was going to be his daily view.
Elated, Joe looked around. It was so beautiful, lush green hills and fields stretched to his right, but it was the sea that captivated pulling his gaze back to its magnificence. Sparkling brighter than any diamond, bathed in the setting sunlight, ripe rich colours burst up attempting to escape the pull of the end of the day, not wanting to die. The oranges bled into deep reds casting into purples, the rainbow, he was sure would sizzle when the sea sucked it into its welcoming depths only to release it ready for another day. It was something else.
Joe ignored the talking sat nav, immersing himself in the beauty feeling care free. The Spice Girls ringtone jangled in his pocket dragging him from his musings. Joe sighed knowing the moment was over, but he felt gratified there would be more days to sit and watch.
“Yo, man, where the hell are you? You get lost or something? I’d have thought you would be banging on my door by now, demanding food.”
Joe chortled at the fake aggravation in Martin’s tone as he spoke. His genuine warmth
worked its magic on his battered heart. He felt a silly grin pull at his face, answering. “I am sat in a layby, taking in the most majestic view. Which isn’t you, before you say it, but it just so happens to be Kirk Michael. So stop your whining, I’ll be there in a few.”
Joe was pleased when Martin responded with the same lightness. “Well, as you’re a mere minute away, I’ll go and have a quick shower as I just got in. You may as well go straight to Stuart’s. He’s expecting you, so go dump your stuff there and introduce your ass to him. Then you can either eat with Stuart or come over to us, your choice. Don’t worry, Brad made the lasagne, so you’re safe Stuart won’t be poisoning you today.” Brad’s muffled giggles stopping Martin mid flow.
Joe couldn’t quite hear what was said, but he got the jist when Martin spoke.
“Babe, stop that, I’m on the phone to Joe.”
Joe covered his eyes, mirth wanting to escape when he heard the sound of slapping and a heartfelt moan fill his ear.
Okay, that was enough of that. “Err, I will go to Stuart’s first then pop over after you two have emm, finished.” Martin’s garbled response had him laughing. Pulling back onto the main road, not fully convinced Martin was listening when he’d ended the call.
Finding the right cul-de-sac, Joe parked next to the iridescent navy blue Porsche 911 Carrera, careful not to get too close. The thing shone like a brand new penny. Joe smiled when he could see his reflection in its gleaming surface. He’d bet anything Stuart washed and polished it weekly.
Stepping out of the van, giving it a once over he sighed in disgust. It was barely three months old, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken it to the car wash. His once silver van had mud glued to the sides; filth coated the doors and windows. Streaked dirt had dried in rivulets on the windshield having forgotten to refill the water bottle for the windscreen wipers. Joe had taken to throwing bottles of tap water over it so he could see.
Joe hunched for a second when he looked back at the Porsche, lowering sunlight catching it, making it gleam brighter. He muttered in apathy. “It is only a vehicle for God’s sake.” It was what was inside that was important. He trusted Martin not to leave him with one of those stuffy sorts that didn’t like anyone with a dirty vehicle parked next to his pride and joy. He better not be a pushy bastard either, insisting he clean his van.
Joe huffed up the path, dropping his heavy bags. He blew his fringe out of his eyes, bracing himself before knocking on the door. It was time to meet his new housemate.
Joe’s mind shut down, his eyes tried to comprehend what they were seeing when the door suddenly flew open, revealing heated charcoal eyes and a whole lot of delicious, wet bronzed skin.
Thoughts jumbled together making it hard for Joe to think past his lust. He surveyed the well-defined abdomen as water slid into the muscled groves. Joe eyes followed the dripping water, seeing it head towards the tiny towel wrapped around lean hips. Bronze skin faded to pale where the towel dipped, showing off the blond happy trail leading down. Joe felt he might have swallowed his tongue at the thought of tracing along the pale deliciousness. His lips tingled, wondering if it would taste as delicious as it looked.
Am I drooling, because it sure as hell feels like it. The urge to lick, suck, and taste all over that broad muscular, hairless chest made his tongue glue to the roof of his mouth. Fascinated, Joe continued to watch water move, soaking the miniscule towel barely covering Stuart’s glorious body.
His attention wavered, caught by the budding golden discs directly in front of him. The breeze had them standing to attention, his fingers itched to tweak and pull on them.
Fuck, he was splendid specimen of a man. Joe thought he reminded him of a gazelle tall and sleek, it seemed to fit him. Well defined muscles looked to him like a fine-tuned engine used to regular maintenance. Long powerful bronzed legs exposed by the tiny towel had him laying odds Stuart was a runner. Joe could see the same fine pale hair from his happy trail, cover the length of his legs as they disappeared under the towel, making him wonder if the hair would feel course against his naked body.
Thoughts whizzed at speed through Joe’s lust addled brain. His eyes feasted, travelling against his will to Stuart’s crotch. Joe wet his lips, wanting to devour Stuart’s naked flesh, wishing the breeze was a little stronger. The towel swished for a second as if answering his silent wish. Joe’s eager gaze willed the wind to give up Stuart’s secrets. Inhaling deeply, Joe’s senses clouded. A deep musky scent had a fruity undertone tugged at his core, urging him to step closer, sample the skin and find the source of the flavour.
Joe leaned forward lost in his fantasy, unsure whether he was going to touch or lick. The loud cough behind had him jerking back, furiously blushing unable meet Martin’s eye’s.
“Well, it seems you two have gotten acquainted already, so there’s no need for an introduction, it would seem. Though, Stuart, I would suggest next time you get dressed before flashing the whole neighbourhood.” Martin’s angry sarcasm had Joe look between the two men, not sure what he was he missing.
He shrugged it off when Martin stepped forward lifting him into his arms, hugging hard. His feet dangled, but Martin didn’t seem to struggle with his weight, instead he gripped him closer. Joe hugged him back, sucking back the tears that threatened to overtake his overwhelmed emotions. God, I’ve missed him so much.
Joe batted at Martin’s arms when he got himself under control, though he was secretly pleased for the distraction. Not entirely sure what he would have done if he had been left to his own devices.
“Come on, put me down, you big lug. You don’t want to strain that back of yours.” Joe waggled his eyebrows going for a leer, hoping to remove the concern in Martin’s face at the mention of straining his back.
“Fuck, Joe, you hardly weigh more than a child. What the fuck has been going on with you? You look like you have spent months in a bloody concentration camp.” Martin’s earlier warming affection caused by the hug dissipated under his hurt outrage.
Joe wiggled out of his arms, huffing. His own temper started simmer. Feeling a heated stare, he realised Stuart was watching with avid interest. Joe didn’t want to have this confrontation in front of a stranger.
Reining in his anger, he pleaded. “Not now, okay?” Martin’s curt nod had him relax a little.
Joe wasn’t ready to talk about it, even with Martin, and not entirely sure, he ever would be. Martin’s hurt expression stabbed deep, but he hoped they could get past it, they had to. Joe felt his desperation rise, unsure he’d survive without Martin’s strength, his friendship.
The sheen of tears gathering at the corner of his eyes had him looking away, blinking fast. His fragile heart yearned for the comfort Martin’s arms would offer, but this was neither the time nor the place when Martin would demand answers. Joe pulled back instead, ignoring the pain when all he wanted to do was bury himself in Martin’s warm affection.
Joe was never more grateful to see the small man peering from behind Martin’s shoulder. His lips curved in pleasure at Brad’s musical voice.
“Hey, Joe, how’s it hanging?”
Joe gave Brad a quick hug, laughing as he pulled back. “I think I’ll stick around, I don’t often feel tall, but you’re making me feel like a giant at the moment.” Joe’s eyes danced with merriment at Martin. “You must feel like gigantor or is that the incredible hulk.” Joint laugher erupted around him, unable to contain his glee at Martin’s scowl, when Stuart got in on the act.
Martin’s scowling glare the last thing Joe saw as he turned on his heel, heading towards the house opposite. Angry words flying towards them all. “When you all decide to grow up and be adults, I’ll be the one with beer.”
The resounding slam had Joe bending forward trying to catch his breath. Tears streaked his cheeks as his laughter bellowed out. God, it felt good just to let go. Joe grinned at Brad as he got himself under control with effort, only to be thwarted when Brad spoke.
“He’s a little sensitiv
e when people mention the height difference. We went out a few weeks ago and someone thought I was his son.” Brad’s impish smile only added to the hilarity.
Joe couldn’t contain the peals of laughter, watching Stuart struggle too.
When Stuart spoke up, it only had them all laughing harder. “Your father, Brad, oh God he must have been hopping mad. That is too funny, oh you wait, he isn’t going to hear the end of this.”
They all fell about laughing, Joe could hardly see past his streaming eyes, wiping his face on his sleeve, he tried to pull himself together.
Joe enjoyed the camaraderie between them all. He’d missed this in the past few months, keeping to himself was never something to be relished. He loved people watching, it was why he enjoyed the Intel searches, gaining insight into other’s lives. A heavy sigh left his lips before he could stop it, his thoughts sobering. Joe frowned at the reality of what Joel had stolen from him.
Shaking off his gloominess, realising he’d killed the mood. “Come on, Brad, you may as well help me empty my stuff out the van.” Joe flicked a quick glance at Stuart’s towel. His little devil begged to come out and play. Joe turned away, he was so not going there.
Instead speaking to Brad, “Stuart’s a little indisposed.” Joe saw Brad’s gaze roam Stuart’s body. He watched in fascination as heat permeated Brad’s honey skin, making him glow.
Joe looked back seeing Stuart grapple with the tiny piece of cloth that was showing the tip of a very juicy looking cock.
Brad’s flushed cheeks faced him offering a small wink before he headed off to Joe’s van. Nope, he’d promised himself he would not be led astray by his wayward cock. It so is not happening. He valiantly ignored the little voice whispering it could, if he wanted it to.
He rushed after Brad when his body vibrated with the urge to go back and climb up the mountain of wet, gleaming bronzed skin. Did he polish his body as well as his car, he wondered? Joe gave a strangled groan at his random thought. He dragged the remaining bags out of the side of the van, attempting to focus on the job at hand, and not the man that had disappeared inside.
