by V. L. Locey
And Caiden, the patio, the sex, the security, the knowledge that someone cared if even for a few short weeks…
“Fuck,” I said as I padded into the bathroom.
The lights had barely flickered on, and Caiden appeared behind me, his clothes left somewhere behind him just as mine had been. He slipped his arms around my waist, rocked a hard cock into my ass, and bit down on my shoulder. My dick immediately responded.
“I stink,” I told him as my cock plumped.
“Not that badly. It’s a manly smell.” He rutted his nose into my armpit, nudging until I lifted my arms over my head. He rubbed his cheek against the dark hairs, eyes drifting shut as he sighed as if in heaven. “I love your scent. I’ve been thinking about you all day, having you in me. You need to fuck me as hard as you can tonight, Devon. Over and over until I beg for surcease and then, when I plead for you to stop, you fuck me one more time so I feel that cock of yours in my ass for days.”
“Fuuuuck,” I repeated but for a wholly different reason. We stumbled into the shower where I did him before dinner. We ate and lounged on the patio until dark had claimed Manhattan. He led me to a lounge chair tucked into a corner and rode me like a bull in a traveling rodeo. Thankfully I lasted longer than seven seconds but not much longer. The third time was close to midnight, when we’d found ourselves in the bedroom getting ready for bed. I found him standing by the dresser where my suitcase lay when I came out of the bathroom. He’d stripped for the night. I caught his gaze in the large mirror over the dresser.
“Come here.” His voice was whiskey warm and thick as fog. Our eyes remained locked as I neared. “Lose those briefs.” I yanked them down with speed. Stepping out of them, I ran a hand down his spine, the tips of my fingers dancing down the crack of his ass. He spread himself over the suitcase, offering me his tight pink hole. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Again?”
“Yes, Devon, again. Have I begged for you to stop yet?”
“No, not yet.” I touched his entrance, it was puffy and dark pink, tender from our previous lovemaking. My finger circled his pucker a few times, his hips rolling as his head dropped down to rest on my clean clothes.
“Then fuck me,” he gasped, lifting his head to find my gaze in the mirror again. “Watch yourself fucking me. Get that image burned into your brain so when you’re topping some other Nellie bottom bitch like me, it’s my face that you see.”
I had no words. He pawed in the suitcase and tossed me a condom and a lube package. Had he packed those or had Luis? My money was on Caiden. Were my PrEP tablets in there too? Sure they were. He was going to make sure I was well-prepared to live the life of a well-informed gay man once this affair was just a memory.
“Do not take your eyes off me.” He was ruddy-cheeked with desire, his voice smoky, his gaze fiery. “No, no fingers. Use your dick to work the lube in. I want the burn.”
“Okay,” I panted, easing myself into him inch by inch until I was seated fully.
“Ah, Jesus,” he huffed, his face tight with pain, his eyes dancing with pleasure. “Now fuck me. Hard.” I began to move. “Harder.” My pace increased, my balls bumping his with soft slaps. “Harder. Harder. Harder!” I withdrew and slammed back into him. He cried out, his fingers tight around the lip of the suitcase, his back arched, his mouth open. “Do…not…stop…”
The dresser was hitting the wall with such force small bits of plasterboard were flaking off. We went at it like that for what felt like hours. We reapplied lube twice; my hamstrings were on fire from the hunkered-down angle I had to maintain, yet he demanded more, faster and harder. Always harder. Then I shifted position, just a bit, lifting a knee to the dresser. Our gazes returned to the mirror. Watching myself pound him was perhaps the hottest thing I had ever taken part in and yes, the memory would be branded on my memory forever.
“Ah, fuck yes! There. There…oh fuck, hard now!”
Now? As if the past forty minutes hadn’t been balls to the wall? I pumped upward, the angle giving things a whole new feel. His ass clamped around me as he came. It was a loud, wild completion for him that rolled on forever, the pulses of his channel milking me, pulling me into the orgasmic tempest. He emptied his balls into his hand and all over the dresser. When the tremors were slowing, I eased out of him, peeled off and tied the condom, and tossed it into the trash can beside the dresser. Caiden was splayed over the suitcase, his belly on my clothes, his brow resting on the mirror, his arms akimbo.
I leaned over his back, gently dropping kisses along his spine until I got to the nape of his neck. Then I bit down gently. He moaned a little, a soft little ‘Unf’ that made me yearn for things that would never be.
“Come to bed,” I whispered beside his ear, sliding a hand round his middle, leading him back from the dresser and to the bed. He fell onto the bedding on his side, his skin slick with sweat and pink from sex. “Let me get you something.” I went to the bathroom and came back with a wet cloth and some numbing cream. His smile was wobbly. He let me wipe his hands clean then apply the cream to his abused little hole. With a sigh, he then curled up to me when I lay down, his leg tossed over mine, his arm resting on my stomach, his head pillowed on my bicep.
Sleep had claimed him before I’d even turned the light off properly. He was on top of the covers, but I did manage to wiggle a thin blanket free without disturbing him too much. Once we were covered, I gathered him close once again, closing my eyes then breathing in the smells of sex and us combined. It was close to one in the morning by now. It took me a long while to drift off. The humming of a cellphone dancing over a nightstand roused me from a deep sleep sometime later. Caiden hadn’t moved a muscle; he was still draped over me, his breaths warm poofs of air on my cool skin. One-handed I pawed on the nightstand until I found my phone. It vibrated in my hand as I carried it to my face. Eyes blurry from sheer exhaustion, I blinked at the short text that read—
C U Soon! Love being in love! We have to swap details at dinner tonight. - Isamu
Fuck. As much as I loved Isamu and our friendship, I utterly hated him at the moment. My groggy mind was slow to figure out the image that was loading. Then it clicked. It was a shot of Manhattan as he and Brian were flying over it on their way to LaGuardia. No matter what I tried to say back to my friend, everything sounded envious and petty, so I simply sent him an emoji-filled reply with a ‘Dinner is cool!’ note crammed between hearts, smiles, and about a dozen zucchini. Then I turned off my phone, gathered Caiden close, and laid there until the colors of dawn tinted the sky. The day I’d go back to Brooklyn was here. It sucked far, far worse than I had even imagined it would. I just had to make sure that all the tears were dried before Caiden woke up.
That night we met Isamu and Brian for dinner. The restaurant was one Brian had chosen, so Caiden was bitching about it before we even set foot in the place.
“Driving all the way to Fire Island is so typical Gilles. Why couldn’t the pompous ass have chosen somewhere close? I fucking hate seafood, so if he dragged us all the way out here to eat oysters on the half shell or some other disgusting snot ball, I’m leaving.”
After fifteen minutes of straight complaining, I pulled my gaze from the window and shot him a glare. “Is it possible to be any more of a typical film diva than you’re being right now? First of all, the driver Brian hired is driving so what do you care? Secondly, Isamu said they were out here to check out a property Brian was thinking of investing in and so it was he who picked the place. Thirdly, maybe other people like seafood, so if you don’t, order a burger and quit lowing about it.”
He sat silently for a long moment, looking fucking incredible in a summery outfit of tan shorts, an untucked white shirt, Italian leather sandals, and his shades, before replying. “Lowing as in the sound a cow makes?”
I nodded. “Yes, you sound like an old Holstein complaining about her full udder.”
One side of his mouth twitched. “Okay, that’s fair.” He sighed dramatically before reaching for my ha
nd. His fingers slipped between mine as the Lexus rolled away from Manhattan. “I apologize.” He lifted my hand to his lips and rained a few dozen kisses to my knuckles. “I’m out of sorts tonight.”
“Yeah, me too.” I let my head fall to his shoulder. Neither of us seemed inclined to discuss why we were so irritable. What was the point? There was no changing a production schedule. Life moved on, sometimes steamrolling tender new romances under the weight of reality. “This will be fun.” He grunted. That made me snicker. “It will be.”
“Okay, if you say so.” He let his cheek rest on my head.
The rest of the ride was less tense as we both made a concerted effort to not talk about all the packed bags back at his place. We gossiped about the newest reboots coming out of Hollywood, what the stupid comment of the week was from a certain actress we both disliked, how poorly a new trailer we’d seen had been made. It was amazing how many topics two men could find to distract themselves with when they really tried. The nearly two hour ride flew by. Not really, but it did go faster once he stopped whining. We pulled up in front of Michelle’s Bayfront Bistro at exactly six. Our driver said he would wait for us as directed, so we exited the car and strolled into the eatery. It was open and airy, with white and blue walls, white tables, and big windows that looked out over Great South Bay. Every table was either full or had reservation cards. Brian and Isamu were seated by one of the windows, Isamu waving madly at us.
The hostess led us to our friends, and after Isamu and I hugged it out, I shook hands with Brian. He gave me a soft nod then moved his hazel gaze to Caiden who’d been commenting on how tan Isamu was while shaking his hand.
“Canada,” Brian said after dropping my hand.
“Gills,” Caiden replied.
“Gilles, like fillies,” Brian was quick to correct.
“Oh yes, of course. Silly of me to muddle up your name.” Caiden held out his hand. Brian rolled his eyes then took the hand being offered to him. Isamu and I shook our heads then sat in our seats.
Wine was brought to the table, something Brian had chosen no doubt, and then a huge platter of oysters Rockefeller as well as a dish of hot crab dip with seasoned crackers, small crocks of soup, and a basket of hard rolls served with soft butter.
“I hope you don’t mind that we ordered some appetizers. I assumed you’d be running late. The traffic coming out to the island on the fourth is terrible,” Brian said as wine was poured into glasses. Caiden shoved the oysters as far away from him as his arm would allow.
“Yes, it’s a crush, which is why I wondered why the hell you’d make us come all the way out here instead of just eating in Manhattan.” Caiden lifted a crock of soup from the serving tray to start his meal. I did the same. Isamu blinked at Caiden openly.
“Well, I’m enjoying it because I’ve never been to Fire Island before,” I slid in before Brian could fire another volley. “Tell me about the honeymoon,” I plowed on, and Isamu, bless him, leaped on that topic like a cat with an injured mouse.
The next hour was filled with pictures of their catamaran trip, glowing recommendations, sensual food, and a few bottles of wine that disappeared as fast as the lobster dinners we’d wolfed down aside from Caiden who ordered a steak. Sitting back as Brian waxed on about some small island they’d moored off of and how the sunset had fallen on Isamu’s face just so made me tear up, just for a second. They were so miserably in love. I mean, it oozed out of their pores. Both of them were brown from their days in the sun and surf, their smiles white, their clothes hip and summery, their touches subtle yet possessive, their wedding bands new and shiny. They were a gorgeous couple. I was so filled with envy I could barely swallow my wine due to the wad of jealousy lodged in my throat.
I couldn’t wait for dessert to come, yet I hated the plates of cheesecake when they arrived and were placed in front of us. Mine went largely untouched but my wine glass was kept full.
“…going to ask for a temporary transfer to the San Francisco office so he can be closer to the shoot,” Isamu was saying. Brian nodded, his gaze touching on his new husband with such devotion it made me shudder. God, how nice it must be to have money and prestige. If I had that kind of clout I’d be out there in Arizona with Caiden. But I was poor and unwanted. Ugh. Wine made me super morose. I needed more.
“…looking for an investment to diversify some funds, and since we both love the beach and sea so much, I thought we’d check out a few of the places available out here on the island,” Brian was saying over a cup of dark Cuban coffee.
“I’ve always found it kind of pretentious for gays to flock to places that are so notoriously gay, but you do you.”
Isamu blinked at Caiden’s sharp retort. Brian smiled sinfully into his coffee. I drained my wine glass and held it up so the wine dude could top me off again.
“And where, pray tell, would you suggest two recently married gay men vacation? Mike Pence’s backyard?” Brian enquired; his tone sharp as glass.
“Maybe. The point of being out is to not hide among our own but to make the straights see us where they think we don’t belong. Which is why I make the kind of movies that I do, because we’re not represented fairly in large parts of the country.”
“That’s because people in those parts of the country beat us up or throw us out of our houses when they find out we’re gay and our shoes are in the yard,” I chimed up, burped sour wine, and then took a long pull from my glass. Was my talk getting mixed up? Or was that my ears making things sound swirly?
“Hear, hear,” Brian stated, his small white cup of coffee rising in agreement. “Of course, some of us haven’t yet experienced that particular sort of familial hate, have we, Cordon? So some of us feel less inclined to bull headfirst into raging crowds with tiki torches. But please, do go on and tell your lover how he should be more of a man and face down the bigoted parents and town folk who drove him into the cold, city streets.”
“Can we please stop?” I barked, my taste for the wine, the cheesecake, and this conversation evaporating. “Fuck sake, this was supposed to be a nice dinner out here away from the city, not some sort of LGBT rights debate! We’re all doing gay our way. Christ!” The entire seafood restaurant fell into a stilted silence. My head swam. “I need air.”
I shoved back from the table, got to my feet, swaying a bit as I made a path to a side door. Sweet salty air moved over my face as I shuffled to a white iron railing. Out in the harbor there were sailboats gliding over the water’s surface. Gulls cried out overhead. I rested my elbows on the rail, closed my eyes, and pulled in deep breaths that filled my lungs. Then I let them out through my nose.
I smelled Caiden’s aftershave long before he arrived at my side. He stood beside me, his arm and hip tight to mine, saying nothing for a good long time.
“I am incredibly sorry, Devon,” he softly said, his hand moving over my forearm. “I’m not good company at all tonight. Why don’t we just go home? We can sit out on the patio, watch the city light up around us…”
“I can’t do this anymore.” I opened my eyes and looked over at him. His face was tight with remorse. “We need to end this now, tonight, when we get back to the city.”
“But we have a couple more days and—”
“No, there’s no point in dragging things out. I just…I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. That you’re not leaving for months on end. What good is stretching out the agony? No.” I shook my head. He stared at me openly, shock and pain evident in the set of his jaw. “When we get back to Manhattan, I’ll go home, to my place, in Brooklyn.”
“Are you sure you want to end things like this?”
That made me snort/laugh in pain. “No, I don’t want to end things at all. I fucking love you.” His eyes rounded. “Shit, that was not supposed to come out. Don’t let that sway you. Go do your life, I’ll do mine.” He opened his mouth to speak. I held up a hand. “Don’t say it unless you mean it, because that lie would be worse than a clean break.”
“Devon, I
care about you a great deal, I do, I just…the last time I fell so quickly and so deeply it ended badly.”
“Right, I know. Olander.” I pulled my eyes from his tortured gaze and found a sailboat to watch instead. “Which I get. So this separation is a good thing. We’ll both go our own ways and if you still want to date when Gardenia’s Float wraps, then we can maybe try it then.”
His exhalation was long and sorrowful. “Of course, we can do that. When I get back, I’ll call and we’ll pick up where we left off. That sounds like a mature decision. See, I told you that you were the grown-up in this affair.”
That made me snort. Yeah, mature. Right. Mature people didn’t act like brats in a restaurant. I owed Isamu and Brian an apology. And the staff. And the other patrons. I never got to atone to the staff and patrons for my wine-fueled assholery though. Caiden called for the driver, and we snuck off with a softly whispered ‘I’m sorry’ shared between the four of us out by the waiting Lexus.
“Hey, I’m going to call you tomorrow, okay?” Isamu said, his arms tight around me as we hugged it out. “We’ll talk it all out.”
“Right. Totes.” I pulled back, kissed his soft, tanned cheek, and then slipped free of his arms. Caiden slid into the back of the Lexus after me, closed the door, and tugged me to his side, where I stayed until we were back in Manhattan. Then things went from sad to depressing. I gathered up my lone suitcase, said goodbye to Luis who was sniffling into a striped handkerchief, and then carried my bag down to the Lexus and the driver who’d been told to wait. Caiden met me in the lobby, his mouth a firm line, his shoulders tight.
