Chasing the Horizon

by Scotty Cade

  He stared at Hawk’s perfectly shaped and close-shaved head, admiring the colorful tattoos, but struggling to try to make out what they were in the dimly lit cabin. His gaze slowly drifted down to the shiny studs running down Hawk’s left ear, ending at the black discs in Hawk’s stretched earlobe. Why on earth?

  Before Garner could roll that question over in his mind, lightning flashed through the porthole, followed by a loud roar of thunder. Hawk stirred a bit and backed up against him a little closer, but didn’t open his eyes or appear to wake up.

  Garner continued to study Hawk with the same curiosity with which one would study a newborn baby to make sure all the fingers and toes were where they needed to be. But Hawk was no baby, and although he had all his fingers and toes, he had a shitload of other appendages and interesting things to study.

  This time, Garner started at the piercing in Hawk’s left eyebrow. He closely examined the inch-long stainless steel bar, paying special attention to the tiny skull and crossbones on each end before dropping his attention to the silver hoop in Hawk’s thin and almost regally shaped nose.

  That’s pretty understated compared to the skull and crossbones.

  Next was the bar just below his bottom lip and the one he couldn’t see, but knew was there, piercing his tongue. His gaze dropped lower and stopped and focused on the round silver hoops with the small shiny black balls adorning each nipple. God! That must have hurt. Moving on, he next focused his attention on the small hoop in Hawk’s belly button. He knew the head of Hawk’s penis was also pierced, but from this position he couldn’t see the hoop there either.

  How in the hell does he ever get through airport security?

  Looking back up, Garner noticed a tattoo on Hawk’s left shoulder. It was some sort of skull with a peacock tail. Below that, leading down his arm, was a huge diamond and what appeared to be a Viking head. And lower still, on his bicep, were horseshoes surrounding an image of a horse and a woman’s head. On his forearm was a big dagger in flames and leading down to his hand were a rat and a firecracker.

  There seemed to be some sort of tattoo covering every visible part of his arms and legs, though all Garner could see now was his left side. From where he was lying, he couldn’t identify any of the tats on Hawk’s left leg, but one tattoo on the top of Hawk’s left big toe caught his attention. Garner squinted to try and make out what the hell it was and after quite some time, realized it was a camel. He thought about the significance of a camel on Hawk’s toe and then it hit him. “It’s a camel toe,” he whispered, covering his mouth when he realized he’d said that out loud. Garner did his best to muffle the laughter that was trying to escape his mouth, but apparently he was unsuccessful.

  “I’m very impressed,” a rough, sleepy voice said. “I normally have to explain that tattoo to people.”

  “Sorry,” Garner whispered, releasing his hold on Hawk’s waist as Hawk turned onto his stomach and rested his head on his folded arms. “I didn’t—” Garner stopped when he saw the large, colorful peacock covering Hawk’s back. “Wow,” Garner said. “That’s an incredible tattoo.”

  “Thanks,” Hawk replied. “It’s one of my favorites. Took two years to complete.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more gorgeous peacock,” Garner said, staring at the bird’s face. “It looks almost proud, and the colors are so vivid.” Leaning back to get a better look, Garner added. “My God, it spans your entire back and shoulders. I’m almost afraid to touch it.”

  “Don’t be,” Hawk said. “It doesn’t bite.”

  Garner slowly raised his hand up and touched the peacock’s head, tracing the outline of the tattoo consuming Hawk’s entire back and shoulders.

  “You were going to say something earlier?” Hawk asked inquisitively.

  “Oh, I was going to apologize for waking you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Roars of thunder joined the lapping sounds, filling the cabin with an air of intrigue and suspense, and neither of them seemed to want to disturb the ambiance by talking.

  When the thunder settled, Hawk spoke. “Did you see everything you needed to see?”

  Shit! He wasn’t sleeping. “Busted again,” Garner said. “And to be truthful, the answer is no. I’m really fascinated by… well, everything. But how did you know I was watching you?”

  Garner heard the slightest chuckle escape Hawk’s lips. “Man, I’d have to be dead not to feel those eyes studying me.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were asleep. I certainly didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  Hawk laughed out loud, rolled over onto his back, and looked up at Garner. “You don’t think you’re the first person to look at me like I’m some sort of freak, do you?”

  Garner felt the blush heat his cheeks. “I guess you have a point. But for the record, I don’t think you’re a freak at all.”

  Hawk closed his eyes. “Go ahead, dude. I know you have questions.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind me asking. Why all this?” Garner asked, waving his hand down Hawk’s body.

  “Why what?” Hawk asked, his eyes still closed.

  “All the piercings and tattoos?”

  “Why not?”

  “Point well taken,” Garner said. “Did any of this hurt?”

  “Sometimes,” Hawk said. “Some areas are more sensitive than others.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Is all this addictive once you start?”

  Hawk took a long time to answer, as if it were the first time he’d ever been asked the question. “The tattoos are more addictive to me than the piercings. I think I may be at my limit with the piercings. But certainly not the tattoos.”

  “But the tattoos are all permanent,” Garner said. “Do you worry that one day you’ll regret getting them or wonder what they are going to look like when you get older?”

  “To be honest, I don’t feel like I actually have a choice with the tattoos. When I get a new tattoo, I don’t feel like I’ve added something, I actually feel more like I uncovered something that was already there, a new part of me. You know? And as far as what I’ll look like when I get old, all I can say is I believe in living for today. To me, my piercings are no different than someone who gets a nose job or some other type of cosmetic surgery—eventually it all goes south.”

  Garner thought about his answer and decided it was honest and somewhat thought-provoking. But he was still captivated by how it all started, and he wanted to know more. “So what came first, the piercings or the tats?”

  “The ear piercings came first, believe it or not,” Hawk answered. “When I was about nineteen, I think.”

  Nineteen? Garner’s education told him that since Hawk had waited so long, it probably hadn’t started with adolescent rebellion. Most kids who rebel against one thing or another do it early and mostly for the shock value. “It doesn’t sound like rebellion to me, so what started it all?”

  Again Hawk seemed to be thinking about the question. He shrugged. “Maybe there was a little bit of rebellion, but that wasn’t the driving force.”

  “If not rebellion, then what?” Garner asked.

  “I’d wanted a tattoo since I was very little, and surprisingly my parents didn’t shut me down right away. I guess they thought it was a whim, and I would forget about it as soon the next thing came along. But after I pestered the hell out of them day after day, they finally sat me down and explained that tattoos were something permanent and getting one was a decision I would need to make as an adult. They said as parents they didn’t feel like they should allow me to do something that was so permanent until I was old enough to understand the consequences.”

  Impressed, Garner nodded. “They handled that pretty well. My parents would have shit a brick if I’d said I wanted a tattoo when I was that young.”

  “They were pretty cool considering they were both ministers.”

  Garner didn’t see that one coming. “Ministers?” he questioned.

  “Yep. My mother was a
pastor and my father was a deacon. Don’t get me wrong, they were strict, but not so strict that I couldn’t express myself.”

  The wind was still howling, and Hawk was now rubbing Garner’s forearm ever so lightly, which was making Garner very sleepy. “Okay, so one more question then I’m done.”

  Hawk looked up at him with skepticism.

  “Promise,” Garner said. “It’s a two-part question, but the last one for now.”

  “For now, huh?” Hawk mumbled, closing his eyes again. “I figured as much, but shoot.”

  “Does it piss you off when people stare at you?” Garner asked. “And… do you think people are scared of you because of the way you look?”

  Hawk smiled. “Weren’t you the first time you saw me?”

  Damn! “Busted a third time,” Garner admitted. “I thought I concealed being in fear for my life pretty well.”

  “Seriously, dude? Now that I think back, the look of terror on your face was pretty damned obvious. I was just too hung over to notice at the time,” Hawk said, smiling. “But to answer your question, no, it doesn’t bother me when people stare. To be honest, for the most part I don’t even notice the stares anymore. I’ve been unique in my hairstyles and the way I dress since I was very young. I guess I’m sort of blind to it after all this time.”

  Satisfied for now, Garner laid his head back and closed his eyes. “Thanks for indulging me,” he said sleepily.

  The combination of Hawk rubbing his arm, the sound of the wind, rain, and occasional thunder, and the rocking of the boat lulled Garner into a sound sleep.

  When he woke some time later, he reached over without opening his eyes and found an empty spot next to him. He listened for a second and realized he was once again alone in the quiet of his cabin; the storm had obviously gone along with his sexual partner. He rolled onto his side, wrapped his arms around the pillow Hawk had laid his head upon, and inhaled deeply. Hawk’s scent was still lingering, and Garner closed his eyes, savoring the smell. He felt a wave of sadness wash over him and wondered why he felt alone for the first time in a very long time.

  Garner eventually dozed off again, and when he woke for the second time, he found the feeling still lingering, like the essence of a recent lover.

  Chapter 6

  HAWK HAD slipped out of Garner’s bed naked as the day he was born and crept to the salon. He’d climbed the companionway stairs and slid the door open as quietly as possible. The whole scene had felt like a flashback from the morning before, just like so many of his other duplicitous departures under the cloak of darkness. He’d felt a pang of guilt but quickly brushed it away.

  This is your MO, Hawk. Why change it now? Maybe because you felt some kind of connection to this one, not to mention you just had some of the best sex in your life?

  He’d gathered up his clothing and stepped into his wet blue jeans, cursing under his breath when the damp, clammy denim came into contact with his warm, dry skin. For a split second, he’d even thought about going below again and crawling back into the warm arms that had held him there just a few minutes ago, but he’d quickly pushed that thought out of his head. He’d pulled the wet cotton Henley over his head and gasped out loud, biting his bottom lip but sucking it up and pushing through the initial shock. He’d stepped into his flip-flops, slipped through the zippered door, and fought the wind and pelting rain back to his boat.

  Once again under the protection of his cockpit roof, Hawk quickly stripped out of those godforsaken wet clothes. He dried as best he could with his wet shirt and then stepped into his cabin and headed straight for the head. He showered and slipped into a pair of worn sweat pants. Shirtless, he went to the refrigerator. When he opened the door, the light cast an eerie glow over his galley and salon. Surprised at how gloomy he felt, Hawk glanced at the clock on the microwave oven and then looked through the galley porthole. Although it was only three in the afternoon, the dark, ominous clouds hanging low over the island made it look like dusk.

  He retrieved two beers and popped the first top on the way to the couch, dropped, and downed the entire can in one gulp. Leaning back in the darkened salon, Hawk crossed his legs and popped the second top. He took a sip and then held the cool can against his stomach. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. An image of Garner instantly burst into his mind. The man was doing pushups on top of him, forcing his cock in and out, tantalizing him with every stroke, his rich brown eyes burning with desire. Hawk felt a surge of electricity travel through him and land right in his cock, causing an instant erection.

  He downed the second beer, tossed the can to the floor, and pulled his sweats down then kicked them completely off. He spit into his hand, grabbed his cock, and pumped. He stuck the fingers from his other hand into his mouth and slid them down to his asshole, wincing when he came in contact with his very tender opening. He pushed through the initial discomfort and slowly slid two fingers inside, massaging and moving in unison with the hand pumping his cock. In his mind’s eye, he pictured Garner on top of him, pounding into him, and he remembered the way it felt to be taken by his uptight stranger.

  It took only minutes for his heart rate to double and the hypersensitive nerve endings in his dick and asshole to go into overdrive, sending him into a full-blown sexual frenzy. He instinctively started to gyrate on the fingers massaging his insides and pumped feverishly on his cock.

  “Fuck yeah!” he hissed, throwing his head back and releasing his load, coating his chin, chest, and stomach in spurts of warm liquid. “Fuck!” he repeated, running his tongue over his chin, tasting himself as he squeezed and worked every last drop of his release onto his stomach.

  “Damn! I’ve got to start using lube,” Hawk said out loud as he closed his eyes, winced, and gingerly slid his fingers out of his ass. He sighed and stilled as his heart rate began to slow and the waves of his orgasm dissipated.

  A vision of Garner’s handsome face again popped into his mind. “Fuck no!” he said, turning his head from side to side in an attempt to rid himself of the vision. “I’ve got to get out of here before I sex myself to death.” He hopped up and headed for another shower.

  Twenty minutes later Hawk was standing in his salon, dressed in his standard black T-shirt, torn jeans, and badly worn Doc Martens, the smell of Old Spice filling the small cabin. He looked out and saw the wind and rain had stopped and the skies were starting to clear. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Justin. His best friend answered on the first ring. “Hawk?” he whispered.

  “Hey, what’s up, Butt-rah?”

  Dead silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Jus… you still there?” Hawk asked.

  “Yes, I’m here and you know I hate that name,” Justin answered in a very curt but very low tone. “And you also know I’m not supposed to answer my cell phone at work. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, why do you assume something’s wrong every time I call?”

  “Because of late, unless something’s wrong, you never call. And never at this hour.”

  That comment stung, but Hawk brushed it off and continued. “Everything’s fine, okay? And… I know you hate that nickname, but I love it, and I only use it as a term of endearment.”

  “Fine,” Justin said in a hushed tone.

  Hawk pictured his pocket gay behind the coffee counter with his back to the customers, hunched over his phone, his hand over his mouth, whispering but looking over his shoulder constantly to make sure his boss didn’t catch him.

  “So, you want to meet me somewhere for a drink?”

  “What? It’s only—” Justin paused, obviously looking at his watch. “—four o’clock.”

  “Yeah, almost happy hour,” Hawk teased. “If it makes you feel better, you can meet me somewhere and not have a drink until five o’clock.”

  Justin chuckled. “You’re in an awfully good mood. You must have gotten laid again.”

  “Oh, come on. Can’t a guy be in a good mood that ha
s nothing to do with sex?”

  “Most people can, but not you, Hawken Bristol,” Justin said.

  “Ohhhhh—a knife directly to my heart,” Hawk teased. “So you want to meet me or not?”

  “Sure. I get off work in about thirty minutes. Where?”

  “How about the Bourbon Street Pub?” Hawk asked. “I haven’t been there in ages, and they have two for one from five to seven.”

  “Okay,” Justin whispered. “I’ll meet you there. Now let me hang up this phone before I get fired.”

  “See you in a bit,” Hawk whispered back, not sure why he was keeping his voice down.

  HAWK WAS sitting at the bar when he saw Justin bounce in with his usual flare. He waved and patted the empty barstool next to him as Justin made his way through the crowded bar, stopping to say hello to everyone he knew. He suddenly remembered how well liked Justin was and how many casual friends he had compared to Hawk. Justin’s friendship was it for him. Hawk wasn’t very trusting, and not that many people cared for his over-the-top appearance anyway, so it worked out just fine.

  Hawk thought back to when he’d first moved to Key West. Most guys—well, to be honest, most people—had stayed clear of him, he assumed because of the way he looked. Justin had been different. He was the first person Hawk had met who didn’t look at him like he had two heads and had walked right up to him and introduced himself and never once mentioned a single tattoo or piercing. Justin had treated him like a regular person, and they had become fast friends. His pocket gay was an all-around nice guy, and Hawk had never heard anything to the contrary.

  Hawk looked at Justin working the crowd, his tight little muscular body bouncing from person to person, his smile beaming as he laughed and flirted, teasing his way through the bar. Hawk wondered again why Justin never dated. He seemed to have a ton of acquaintances, but as far as Hawk knew, he was Justin’s only good friend. He decided tonight was the night he was going to find out.

  When Justin finally made it to his barstool and gave Hawk a hug and a kiss on the cheek, he realized what an odd pair they must make to everyone who saw them together. Justin was as handsome, conservative, and put together as any New York model, as opposed to Hawk’s freakish appearance and demeanor. He shook his head in wonderment at the fact that they’d been friends for going on six years.