Dolphin Dreams

by Jules Jones

  “Not until I say,” George said.

  He nodded in agreement. Waited as Patrick’s cock moved back and forth in his hand; gripped it hard but not quite hard enough to give Patrick release. Not until George said, “Now.”

  He squeezed hard, reached with his other hand to cradle Patrick’s balls. Patrick swore and stiffened, and so did George. There wasn’t much left for Patrick to come with, but he gave it his best effort, his cock spasming in Martin’s hand. Only a few drops resulted, but there was no doubting that he’d had a good time. He collapsed onto the sand, and Martin barely had time to let go of him.

  George stayed on his knees, but only with what was obviously an effort of will. He was swaying slightly as Martin went to him and held him. “That was a bloody good fuck,” he muttered, looking up at Martin.

  “Best fuck I’ve had in a while.” He was still feeling a bit unsteady himself.

  “Well, you haven’t fallen asleep straight afterwards this time,” George said, grinning.

  “Feel a lot better, though.” Martin let go of George long enough to sit down, then held him again. “It’s a bit sandy here. Let’s go back to the blanket.”

  “Or for a wash,” George suggested. “I think your Simon will notice if you don’t.”

  He certainly would. They’d quite undone the good work of the wash earlier on. Martin cuddled George a few minutes longer, then reluctantly let go and went to wash again.

  Chapter Eight

  Patrick and George followed him down to the water’s edge, although their interest in bathing seemed to be focused on rinsing off the sand that had accumulated during that last stint off the blanket. “I suppose you want to get cleaned up for Simon?” Patrick asked as Martin sluiced himself down.

  “Yes, but I’ll have to tell him about you, I think.” He realised how they might interpret that, and quickly added, “Not all about you, of course. Just that I met a couple of local men.”

  George nodded. “Tell him the truth. That you met us on the day of the storm, but thought that you dreamt it. And when you started to realise you hadn’t, you didn’t want to say anything because you still weren’t sure.”

  “Just leave out the bit about exactly why you thought you were dreaming,” Patrick added.

  That was what he’d been thinking of doing. “You’re all right with that?” He could understand them being nervous about the idea, but it would cause more suspicion if he tried to meet them without anyone knowing about it. Simon wouldn’t always be away at a meeting for half the weekend, and he’d wonder what was going on if Martin kept disappearing with the boat. “Simon will be a lot less worried if he thinks you’re not just casual pickups. So if I say that I’d already met you, and you helped me that day, but it wasn’t until I met you again today that I knew I hadn’t imagined it ...”

  George picked up water in a cupped hand and motioned him to turn around. “You were too embarrassed to say anything about it, because you thought we were just a fantasy.” He trickled the water down between Martin’s buttocks.

  The chill made him a jump a little, but he held still as George splashed some more water on him, then spread his buttocks. “You look all right. We weren’t rough.”

  “No.” They certainly hadn’t been. He was going to be sore tomorrow, but only from having too much of a good thing. “It was good.”

  “Do you need to go back yet?” Patrick asked. “We don’t have time for the whole book, but I’d like to hear another chapter.”

  He glanced at the light coming in. He’d need to check his watch, but he didn’t think it was all that late. “We’ve got time, I think. But I’d better not be too late back, or Simon will start worrying.”

  George stroked his back. “He’s every right to, after what happened last time. Go and check the time first.” George might have problems with being jealous of Simon, but he was keeping them to himself now.

  Martin decided that he was clean enough and went to find a towel to dry off. Then he got dressed and checked his watch. It wasn’t much after four, so there was plenty of time yet. He sat back against the cushions to wait while George and Patrick got dressed.

  That velvet cushion still fascinated him. He picked it up. “Where did you get this?”

  Patrick looked embarrassed and glanced at George. George grinned and said, “Someone decided to go for a stroll through Debenhams during the sale and spotted that in the bin of cushions reduced to clear.”

  “Well, we were flush at the time, or we wouldn’t have been in there.”

  “But we were supposed to be in the menswear department, weren’t we?” George put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Never mind. You were right; it does brighten the place up.”

  Patrick bent down and took the cushion from Martin. He held it out in front of him, looking at it. “It was just ... so outrageously not for being practical ...”

  That it certainly was. Martin could understand the appeal it held for Patrick. It was like the chocolate; he didn’t need it, but it felt good and it was fun. And it came from a world that Patrick didn’t dare enter more than briefly. “How often do you two go shopping?”

  “Depends on how often we’ve got money or something to sell.” Patrick handed him back the cushion. “We used to only do it when we absolutely had to, but it’s easier now. We know what we’re doing.”

  “You don’t get so nervous about someone recognising what you are?” He put the cushion back on the pile.

  George sat down next to him. “It’s easy, as long as we stick to the tourist towns. That’s one reason we moved in here. We’ve got the cave to store things, but it’s not much of a swim to somewhere big enough for nobody to notice us walking around. Where’d the book go?”

  “Here.” Patrick must have been rummaging. “One more chapter?”

  “Then I’d better go.”

  * * * * *

  They helped him load the boat afterwards, everything neatly packed away, even the rubbish. Especially the rubbish.

  “Don’t worry about our stuff,” Patrick said. “We need to air it before putting it away.”

  More complications of their hidden lifestyle. How did they wash their clothing? Not in seawater, surely; the salt wouldn’t be a lot of fun. There were a lot of things to learn about them. He’d have to take it slowly if he didn’t want to risk scaring them off, but they were already more open with him than they had been that first day.

  “Will you be back tomorrow?” George asked.

  “Don’t know. It depends on what Simon’s doing. If he’s home, I’ll need to spend some time with him, but I’ll be here for a few days. And if we go out in the boat -- he’d love it if a couple of dolphins showed up.”

  “It’s not him I want to see,” George muttered.

  “No, but at least you can check out the boat without worrying about him behaving badly.” He reached up and kissed George. “I might not be able to say when, but I will come back.”

  “What about me?” Patrick asked.

  He kissed Patrick as well. Then he got into the boat.

  “Do you need help getting the boat out?” George asked.

  He looked at how much room there was between the water and the rock above. Just enough for him to manage by himself, if he was careful. “I should practice, and it’s a good chance to do so.”

  “Tomorrow, maybe, then.”

  He nodded, and turned his attention to getting the boat out into the middle of the cave and lined up with the entrance. It was slow going, and before he’d finished he saw a dolphin streak ahead of the boat and wait by the gap. One of them must have changed to help lead him through. He was glad enough of the guide, even if he wanted to try to steer the boat himself. At least if he did fuck up and ended up in the water, there’d be someone standing by to rescue him.

  He made it safely out, although with one nervous moment as a wave lifted the boat. Now he had reason to be grateful that the little boat had been designed for ease of pottering around rather than for speed. It wasn’t
difficult to manoeuvre it through the low gap now that he knew what he was doing.

  Once he was out on the open water, he turned to look back at the cave entrance. From here it looked simply like an undercut in the cliff, or perhaps a shallow cave. There was no hint of the spacious cave behind the rock screen. If the entrance had been on the beach itself, it would never have gone unnoticed, but there was little to tempt the curious to swim out to it.

  Both of the dolphins had emerged from the cave and were watching him. He waved and turned for home.

  When he got back to the jetty and looked out to sea, he wasn’t in the least surprised to see them. They didn’t have much reason to trust the mechanical soundness of the boat. He waved to them again, and they turned and swam away.

  * * * * *

  Simon arrived home relatively early. He’d phoned to say he was on his way, so Martin waited to have dinner with him. Another meal out of the freezer, but this time it was the result of one of Simon’s batch cooking sessions. Martin had the Bolognese sauce heating and the pasta in boiling water as soon as he heard the taxi outside.

  Simon took a couple of minutes to pay the taxi driver and unload his things, so the Bolognese was already hot when he walked into the kitchen. “Mmm. Smells good.”

  “Well, it’s your cooking; I just re-heated it.”

  “You’ll still make someone a wonderful little wife someday.”

  Someday soon, perhaps.

  He must have reacted, let something show in his body language or expression, because Simon said, “Martin?”

  “I’ve got a confession to make.”

  Simon settled himself down on a chair and stared at him over folded hands. “Tell Uncle Simon about it.”

  “This is going to sound stupid.”

  Simon grinned. “I’m used to that.”

  “Remember the day I got concussion?” He prodded the pasta with a wooden spoon. Another few minutes and it would be done.

  “Mmm. When your two dolphin friends dragged you out of the storm.”

  “Wasn’t just the dolphins, but I thought I was hallucinating.”

  Simon stared at him. “What, a handsome naked man rose out of the water and rescued you?”

  Which of course was why he hadn’t said anything at the time. It sounded stupid, even to him. “Two handsome naked men, actually.”

  Simon blinked, but didn’t say anything.

  “Anyway, nothing happened. Apart from them looking after me for a couple of hours until the storm dropped. I went to sleep, proper sleep, not just concussion, and when I woke up they were gone. I thought I’d dreamt it.”

  “Only you hadn’t.” Simon picked up the salt shaker and started playing with it. “And you’ve seen them again.”

  He nodded. “Met them today. They’re real. They’re also shy around strangers, so when they realised I thought I was hallucinating, they were happy to let me go on thinking that.” He gave the pasta another stir. “But I ran into them on the beach today.”

  “And ...” Simon prompted.

  “We fucked.”

  “I think you did more than fuck,” Simon said, very gently. “This isn’t rebound from Barry, is it?”

  “I don’t know.” He gave Simon what he thought was the truth. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know. And I think they understand that.”

  “Are you going to see them again?”

  “Yes.” But he needed to convince Simon that he wasn’t being stupid in doing so. “I think they’re right for me, and they seem to think I’m right for them. But I need to take things slowly.” He tried the pasta again.

  “You fucked two men you’ve only just met, and you’re taking things slowly. Martin, you’re not exactly promiscuous. This isn’t normal for you.”

  He tipped the pasta out to drain, still trying to work out how to explain this to Simon. “It’s not like that, and yes, I know that’s a cliché. I’ve had two months of thinking about them, thinking they were just a fever fantasy, and it was driving me nuts.”

  Simon stood up and came over to stand behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You never said anything.”

  “I’m feeling very sorry for myself over an ex-boyfriend, I get a bad bang on the head, and two gorgeous men appear out of nowhere to look after me.” He looked back over his shoulder at Simon and grinned. “And yes, they are gorgeous.” He tipped the pasta onto the plates and followed it with the meat sauce. “So I woke up alone and decided that I’d conjured it all up. They were too bloody close to my fantasies about tall, handsome men besotted with me for me to assume that they were anything but a fantasy.”

  Simon left him alone until they sat down at the table, but as he reached for the parmesan, said, “There’s more to it than them just being handsome, isn’t there? Are they doms?”

  “You know me too well.” Which of course Simon did. And he knew Simon -- this questioning was because Simon loved him and was worried about him. “Not just that they’re doms. They ...”

  “... made it clear they were interested in you.”

  He nodded. “But they backed off instantly when they realised I was sick, not just playing hard to get.” He watched Simon process that and draw conclusions about the things he hadn’t spelled out.

  “Big men?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you need backup?”

  That was one of the things he liked about Simon. Offering backup, but not insisting on it. “They take no for an answer.”

  Simon looked down at his plate for a few seconds, then back up at Martin. “I’d rather you brought them here, give me a chance to look them over. But if you don’t want to, at least tell me in future if you’re going off to meet them. Just in case.”

  He felt a stab of guilt. He had deliberately gone off this morning without telling Simon what he was up to. Yes, it had been because what he’d suspected was too fantastic to share; but the explanation he’d first hit on when he’d realised that they hadn’t been a hallucination would have been a reasonable enough story. Was a good enough story that he was actually using it now. And if he had gone off this morning completely secure in the belief that he’d met a couple of local men and imagined the rest, he would have told Simon what he was up to. Just in case.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just felt so stupid, going off looking for people I was mostly convinced were phantoms.”

  “Considering how often you’ve told me off for wandering off with strangers without a word to my friends ...”

  True. He was usually the careful one. It didn’t stop him getting burned by people who understood consent but didn’t quite get “only in the bedroom”, but that was a different sort of hazard.

  “Look, Martin, I really am not trying to overprotect you,” Simon said. “You chucked Barry, not the other way round, so I’m not worried about your self-esteem. Just ... two men? Can you handle that?”

  “I don’t know. That’s one of the things I need to sort out. But ... these specific two men ... maybe.”

  “It could be a real threesome, then?” Simon asked. “Not just them playing around with you as their bit on the side? Monogamy’s not quite the right word, but you know what I mean.”

  Funnily enough, Simon might understand that better than some of his other friends, even though Simon’s ideal relationship would be an open pair, not an exclusive trio. “They say they’d like to try. I believe them. And ... we all know there’s a lot of lust involved and lust by itself isn’t going to be enough.” Which was probably the simplest way to summarise the discussion without saying anything about the biggest obstacle in their way.

  “Well, if you actually got round to talking once you’d done fucking, I suppose you’ve got some chance. Who are they, anyway?”

  He should have talked more to them about what cover story they used, assuming they had one. “To be honest, I think they might be drifters. They’re shy of people, and I got the impression they live rough, but they pick up money by doing odd jobs and selling stuff from beach com
bing.” He saw the look on Simon’s face. “And no, they haven’t asked me for money. They only got involved with me in the first place because they’d also taken shelter in that cave.”

  “And you weren’t missing anything when you got back that day,” Simon said thoughtfully.

  He hadn’t even thought about that at the time, but it was true. They’d taken nothing, and there were things in the boat kit that would be useful to them. The only thing that they’d even thought of taking was the chocolate and perhaps the other food, and even there George had made Patrick leave the chocolate alone. “They were glad enough to share my picnic today, but that’s all they’ve asked for.” That and a few previous lunches, but that wasn’t for Simon’s ears.

  “Well, if they’re honest tramps, they’re probably not going to do you any harm other than bruised feelings if it doesn’t work out. Just don’t let them touch you up for more than pocket money.” Simon shovelled some pasta into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Then he said, “Look, it’s not just so I can inspect them. You’re welcome to bring them here anyway, if they want a meal or a hot bath.”

  “Thanks.” The situation was more complicated than Simon knew, and George and Patrick probably didn’t need bathing facilities, at least for themselves. But that was a decent gesture.

  “Or to use the washing machine,” Simon added.

  “I don’t really know if they are homeless.” Best not let Simon get carried away with that idea, in case there was some other story the pair used. “They just didn’t want to talk about themselves, and there was something about it that felt like more than the usual not letting a blind date know where you live until you’re certain of him.”

  “They could just be eccentric and prefer to camp out even if they have somewhere to go. I’ve met a couple of those as well.”

  Simon seemed to have met all sorts of people in his travels, which probably explained a lot about his concern being whether Martin had taken up with people who were sane and honest rather than with their actual social status. “That wouldn’t surprise me either. If they were a lot older, I’d wonder if it was a case of being gay and not wanting to deal with people’s reaction to them obviously being a couple, but they’re far too young for that.”