by Andrew Grey
He became a little frantic, desperate to get all of Jamie. He needed to feel him, know what he was like, put a road map of Jamie in his mind so he could carry it with him forever. They fumbled a little, Arty’s hands shaking, but soon their shorts joined the shirts on the floor on the far side of the bed. Arty sighed as Jamie came to him, nothing but thin cotton between them, with no one else sleeping a few feet away, a closed door between them and the rest of the world.
“God,” Jamie whispered, his hands sliding around Arty’s neck, his eyes shining in the dim light. “You really are beautiful.”
Arty snickered softly. “I wouldn’t say that. You’re the one who will turn heads. You certainly did mine.” He tugged Jamie lower, covering his mouth, his tongue sliding forward to taste him better, to get more. He wanted more… hell, he wanted it all. Arty rolled them on the bed, holding Jamie. The thing was, he didn’t want to let him go, not now, not ever. Jamie was special, he knew that, and being with him seemed magical. Maybe it was the weeks of anticipation and buildup. But in his life, things that were built up to such heights usually turned out a disappointment. Jamie delivered, and so much more.
He kissed down his neck, Jamie shivering when Arty found a spot right at the base, teasing and worrying it until Jamie gasped and clutched at him. Arty wanted to drive him wild, and judging by the gasps, he was succeeding. “We have to be quiet,” Arty whispered and then smiled. “So I’ll make a deal with you. If you don’t make a sound—” He ran his hands down Jamie’s ripped chest and over his fluttering belly, teasing the waistband of his stretched boxers. “—I’ll more than make it worth your while.”
“How?” Jamie asked, eyes wide and mouth parted in anticipation.
“Have you ever been with anyone before?” Arty asked, and Jamie colored deeply. “I see.”
“I know what’s involved in things like this.” Jamie sat up and slid up to the head of the bed, gathering the covers around his waist. “I’m not a virgin or anything, but I spent more time on the farm watching the animals do… what animals do… than I got to spend time with someone like me.” He pulled up the covers.
“I take it things didn’t go well,” Arty supplied and wished he’d never asked the question in the first place. He had only wanted to make sure that his impression was correct so he could take his time with Jamie. Arty’s intention wasn’t to kill the mood. But then, if there was this kind of hurt and doubt lingering in Jamie’s mind, it was something they needed to work on together. Arty knew how it felt to carry secrets and to have them come back to hurt you.
“No. I suppose this story has been told a lot. I liked him, I thought he liked me… and he did. But when it came down to it, he was too scared to do anything.” Jamie sighed. “At least he didn’t go around telling everyone else, probably because he was afraid I’d tell on him.”
“You know that’s okay.” Arty leaned forward. “You are who you are, and that’s more than good with me.” He gently kissed him, and Jamie wound his arms around Arty’s neck, spreading heat throughout his entire body. “You know, you’re really sexy.”
Jamie colored again.
“You are.” He skipped his fingers over Jamie’s chest, swirling them around a nipple, loving the hitch in Jamie’s breath. You could tell so much about someone by how they were breathing. He smiled as he trailed his fingers lower, and Jamie’s breathing became more shallow, his body reacting, anticipation building. It was beautiful to behold. Arty knew that burst of wanting; he felt it himself. Jamie was magnificent, and he wanted to know all of him, from the way his hips narrowed just above his boxers, now tented with desire… to the power and strength coiled in his shoulders and arms. “Lie down,” he mouthed, and Jamie slid down the bed. Arty tugged down his boxers, freeing Jamie’s straining cock, which bounced on his belly, reaching his navel.
The man was gorgeous and strong, and Arty stroked down his smooth glistening chest, over his hard, ripped belly to his cock, stroking him slowly, as Jamie gasped. “This is how it should feel when you’re with someone you care about.” He leaned over him, not letting Jamie go. “That rush of pleasure, the loss of words… the heat, even the sweating. It’s all your body reacting to me, and I feel the same. I can’t think about anything but you.” He kissed him, tasting those sweet lips.
“You talk a lot,” Jamie said, and Arty nodded.
“I love to talk during sex. It’s how we get to know one another.” Arty brought his lips to Jamie’s ear. “And I want to know you… all of you.” He sucked on his ear, still stroking Jamie, feeling the quivers that ran through him. “Now, what do you like?”
“I don’t know. Normal stuff,” Jamie answered with a half smile, clearly a little nervous. Arty hadn’t meant to make him that way and backed off, smiling.
“I see.” Arty drew closer, inhaling the increasingly musky scent that built by the second. Then he parted his lips and drew nearer, sliding them around Jamie’s cock. Jamie gasped, and Arty sank deeper, taking more of him as Jamie quivered. He raised his gaze and saw Jamie’s eyes glazed over, his hips rocking slightly. Thankfully Arty was very good at this, and he took more of Jamie, earning yet another growl of happiness.
Arty tapped Jamie’s hip to remind him to be as quiet as possible while doing his best to drive him wild. Jamie wound his fingers in Arty’s hair, and Arty worked Jamie’s glorious cock, sucking for everything he was worth. “I’m gonna….”
Arty backed away, leaving Jamie breathing heavily. He kissed him hard. “I don’t want things to be over before they really get started.” A squeak from outside the door reminded him that his dad was out in the living room and that they didn’t have all the time in the world. It wasn’t likely his father was going to come in here, but still….
Arty pressed Jamie down onto the mattress. Jamie wound his arms around him, hands sliding downward until Jamie grabbed his butt, holding him closer. They moved together, bodies sliding against each other. Jamie buried his face in Arty’s shoulder for a few seconds, and then they kissed hard. Arty let himself be transported, and the worries of the world passed away. Seconds seemed to last an eternity, and Arty made the most of each moment of happiness, committing them to memory because he knew they didn’t come around all that often.
“God, Arty…,” Jamie groaned into his ear.
“Yes. You’re amazing,” Arty whispered, and Jamie shivered under him, their intensity building. They had spent days so close to one another that Arty thought he’d burst. And now, he just wanted as much as he could get.
The sound of a crutch hitting the floor muffled into the room, but Arty was too far gone to stop. He held Jamie closer and Jamie did the same, the two of them driving each other to mind-blowing completion.
Neither of them moved for a long while. Arty stroked Jamie’s forehead, and then he slipped off the bed and grabbed a towel from underneath it. He wiped them both up, folded the towel, and tossed it into the dirty laundry before joining Jamie under the covers.
“Do we need to get up? Won’t your dad wonder?”
Arty shook his head. “Nope. Dad always sleeps for hours when he gets back from fishing. He’ll expect the same from me.” Arty tugged Jamie closer, loving his heat and the fact that he was here with him. Sometimes the greatest joy came from the simplest things. Arty closed his eyes, and sleep overcame him once again. Jamie was right, and they were going to need to get up pretty soon, but for now, it could be just the two of them.
ARTY DOZED and, after a little while, woke again and slipped out of bed. Jamie was sound asleep. Arty didn’t want to wake him, but he was also reluctant to leave him after their first night together. Too bad those times wouldn’t last forever.
They had both had a hard week and a half, and he had some things to do. Arty grabbed some clothes and dressed in the bathroom across the hall and then went out in search of food.
“Hey, Dad,” Arty said when he entered the kitchen. His dad nodded and continued watching television. “You know that stuff is going to rot your mind.”
“Smartass!” his dad retorted with no heat. Arty poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table.
“Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment?” Arty seemed to remember that there was one coming up.
“Tomorrow.” His dad emptied his mug and took it to the sink. Arty watched him move, noticing the pain, even if his dad tried to cover it. “Where’s your friend?” His dad set the mug in the sink and maneuvered his way back to the living room on his crutches.
“Still asleep. He worked really hard the entire trip.” Arty picked up his mug and followed his dad into the living room, determined to do more than grunt or just sit in the same room and say nothing. There had been hours of that growing up, and Arty wanted something different now. “He baited hooks, cut bait, and worked as hard as any of us.”
His dad nodded. “You were eager the first time you went out too. Remember?”
“Yeah. Then it became something different.” Arty sat on the sofa as his dad lowered himself into his chair with a sigh.
“Work always does.” His dad pulled the recliner’s footrest.
“It wasn’t the work, Dad,” Arty clarified, but his dad had already turned on the television and was zoning out, not interested in whatever Arty had to say. “Dad…,” Arty pressed and stood, picking up the remote off the side table and hitting the power button. “We need to talk.”
His dad turned to look at him. “Then talk, Robert,” he demanded, looking at Arty as though he’d gone crazy.
“Arty?” Jamie said, coming down the hall.
“Is he your friend?” His dad’s inflection was hard to read, and Arty chose to ignore it. Sometimes it was best to beat his father at his own game. If his dad didn’t want to talk about what was going on, then why should Arty volunteer any information about his own life?
“Are you hungry?” Arty asked Jamie and got up, heading to the kitchen. He found some eggs and ham in the refrigerator and made a scramble with some onions. It was basic, but they needed food and it was easy to make. Arty pulled some orange juice out of the fridge and poured two glasses.
“Can I ask why they call you Arty? I heard your dad call you Robert. But with a nickname like Arty, I thought your name was Arthur.”
“Nope. Robert Todd—R.T. or Arty. It was a nickname I got as a kid in school and it stuck.” He shrugged and set their plates on the table. “Dad, do you want some? I made enough.” His dad came in, and Arty made a plate for him before sitting down.
“Arty says you did good,” his dad said to Jamie. “He said you worked hard.”
“I did. The entire process went pretty well. One day was a complete washout, though. It rained nonstop.”
Arty nodded. “The deck got slick, and Reginald went overboard in all his clothes and rain gear. Jamie helped get him out. He thought quickly and averted a difficult… well, more difficult situation.”
His dad patted Jamie on the shoulder, which was more than Arty had ever gotten from him. Then he turned to Arty. “You should be more careful. You were the captain. It was your responsibility to make sure everyone was safe.” The admonition had Arty grinding his teeth together, but he said nothing. His dad was right in a way, but no captain could foresee everything. Sometimes it was how the situation was handled that counted. Still, it grated that his dad just assumed that he’d messed up. Arty lowered his gaze and ate his food. The sooner he got back to New York, the better.
Jamie didn’t seem to notice. “You should have seen him on the dock with that guy from the fish plant. He was brilliant.” Jamie took a bite, grinning, and Arty’s heart leaped that Jamie was standing up for him. Jamie was pretty amazing, and the thought of just letting him go sent a cold shudder running through him. “He got a better price for our catch and for the rest of the fishermen as well. That guy was being cheap, but Arty did the research.”
“Yeah.” Once again that gaze came his way. “And you’ll make it more difficult for us in the future. He won’t want to deal with me.”
Arty shook his head. “I already opened negotiations with Triton and Sampson. They will be glad to work with us in the future. We—you—were being cheated.” Arty’s indignation hit the boiling point, but his dad just dropped his fork and pushed away his plate. They stared at each other, and Arty thought he might, for a second, have seen pride flash in his dad’s eyes. But if it had been there, it was gone in a few seconds, replaced with his father’s usual stoniness. Then his dad got up from the table and left the room.
Arty really didn’t understand his father. Then again, his dad didn’t understand him either and didn’t even seem to want to try. Arty had done his best to help his dad, and his efforts had met with success. The boat had been full, the fish sold at top price, and a large portion of his dad’s debt could be wiped clean. Arty didn’t need to be hailed as a hero, but a thank-you would have been nice.
“I didn’t mean to make him mad,” Jamie said. “But you needed someone to stand up for you and—”
“I know. It wasn’t your fault.” Arty patted Jamie’s hand and shook his head, watching where his dad had gone even as he basked in knowing that Jamie had understood what he needed and stood by him. He shrugged and did his best to let go of the disappointment. “I always seem to be aggravating him somehow.” Arty finished eating and then took care of the dishes.
“What’s next?” Jamie asked.
Arty peered out the windows. “I was thinking we could wander down to the docks and maybe start some of the cleanup. I have to arrange to have the tanks pumped and the boxes cleaned. There’s always a lot of work once a trip is over.”
Jamie got to his feet. “Then come on. The work isn’t going to do itself.” He was already heading for the door.
“Do you ever do anything halfway?” Arty grinned. Jamie had this energy that was contagious. “Let’s go; we may as well get done what we can before the fatigue catches up with us. And it will. We were all running on adrenaline and drive for a long time.” He pulled open the back door. “Afterwards, we can stop at the Pelican for a beer.” They would deserve it.
HOURS LATER, they had made good progress. The trash had been bagged and arrangements made for the tanks to be emptied. Much of the cabin had been cleaned and the gear stowed. Things to be washed were bagged and sitting on the dock.
“I have the boxes washed out, and I added a little bleach to the water to help sanitize them. The lids are open and they are nearly dry.” Jamie looked up from his work. “The decks have been hosed down, but I wasn’t sure what to do with all the gear. I didn’t know where it went.”
“We can leave that until tomorrow,” Arty said. “We’ve made a good start, and I think that’s enough for today. Why don’t we haul the trash to the dumpster, and we can take the laundry to the house before stopping for a beer.” He needed to get the wash done so the gear could be returned.
“When are you going out again?”
Arty shrugged. “I’m not sure. A lot will be determined by what they say at Dad’s doctor’s appointment tomorrow.” He needed to find out where his dad was with his recovery before he made any definite plans. “If I have to go back out, I’ll probably go Monday.” And hope for a good yield this time as well.
“Then let me know and I’ll go out with you again.” Jamie smiled, and Arty nodded. Now that was the best news he’d had all day.
“Wonderful. Though I doubt Beck will go, and I’m not sure about Reginald either.” He was going to have to put together the rest of the crew. “Let’s get this taken care of.” Arty hefted the trash, and Jamie grabbed the laundry. They hurried down the dock and across the lot, where he dumped the trash in a dumpster, and they headed to the house. Arty found his father asleep in his chair, which worried him. His dad never just sat around, and he didn’t nap all the time.
Arty started a load of laundry, and then he and Jamie headed down to the Pelican, where he was welcomed like some conquering hero. “You saved all of us,” Clive, one of the longtime fishermen and one of his dad’s cronies, said alm
ost as soon as he sat down.
“I just did my homework.”
Clive shook his head. “No. You upended the game. None of us has the wherewithal to go anywhere else. Gerald holds paper on all of us, and we’re beholden to him for money whenever we need to outfit our boats.” He slapped Arty on the back, guided him to a table, and motioned for a server. “You could have taken your bounty and gone on your way, but you shared it with us all.” He ordered a beer for him and for Jamie.
“Gerald isn’t going to see it that way,” Arty said cautiously. “I think I may have stirred up a hornet’s nest.”
“Yeah, you probably did. But you’ll go back to New York. Gerald can hate you if he wants, but you’ll be gone, and the rest of us can hope to make a better living.” Clive leaned closer. “And we all know to keep an eye on the little weasel now.” He smiled his gap-toothed grin and chugged his beer.
His father’s comment had raised his wariness, so when Gerald came into the restaurant, Arty waved him over and offered to buy him a drink. He didn’t bring up anything that was said earlier in the day, and he hoped Gerald would see it as a peace offering of some sort. Everyone here was just trying to make ends meet, and they needed each other. Gerald accepted the beer and then moved away to join another party.
Clive said nothing, and Arty was relieved about that. Everyone was interdependent, and rocking the boat too much only capsized them all. “So when are you going again?”
“Possibly Monday. I’m hoping that will be my last run and Dad will be well enough to take over again soon.” Arty finished his beer and thanked Clive, who caught the eye of one of the other fishermen and excused himself.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Arty said.
Jamie drank his beer and glanced around. “Why is everyone staring at us? I mean, I can understand them looking at you because of what you did, but….”
