Men in Love: M/M Romance

by Jerry L. Wheeler

  His success as a singer was mainly confined to the English-speaking countries of Northern Europe, America, and Australia. He could go relatively unrecognised through Southern Europe, so Spain, Italy, and France had always been his favourite holiday destinations.

  He had visited beautiful Portofino ten years earlier, but the old village had been calling him back lately in memories and dreams, even through his music. Throughout the later stages of his tour, before Roman’s generous offer, he was already planning his return. And now, at last, he was here again.

  So long ago and yet nothing had changed, except for him. Standing on the harbour, looking at the small town clustered on the hills that surrounding it on three sides, he couldn’t help smiling. He’d been warned not to go back or expect too much. It was inevitable things wouldn’t be as good as he remembered them. But the naysayers were wrong. He felt like he’d never been away.

  The pretty painted buildings were exactly as he remembered; the small hotels, boutiques, and restaurants remained unspoiled by the scars of consumerism which marred so many other beautiful tourist destinations. Portofino had no burger chains or corporate coffee shops and was all the better for it.

  It was early, not yet ten in the morning, and the small town had barely shrugged off the cowl of night. Only a handful of shops were open. It was early in the season too, late March. The tourists wouldn’t arrive in earnest for another three or four weeks. Then the small harbour would be packed with powerboats and ferries, bringing so many day visitors. But now, the peace was complete.

  He hoped it would remain so for the duration of his stay.

  Jack gathered up his light baggage and set off around the promenade. A decade might have passed since his last visit, but it was as familiar as yesterday. The narrow streets and the piazza were exactly as he remembered and hoped he would find them. His apartment was only a few steps away.

  His PA, Cheryl, had made the reservation. “What do you want an apartment for? You know, there are no facilities, barely any service. Just a maid coming in once a day. Why not go for one of the bigger hotels around the hill? They’ll have everything you need.”

  “No,” he insisted, “this is the place I want. I’ve spent two years living in hotels and eating room service. The apartment is all I need.”

  What he didn’t tell Cheryl was that he’d already stayed here before. He knew exactly what to expect and was delighted to find nothing had changed here either.

  A beautiful Italian girl with soulful eyes and ravishing black hair greeted him with the keys and showed him inside. “I come to clean at ten each day,” she said. “Okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  And it was. The apartment was characterised by exposed stone walls and arched doorways, antique furnishings and original décor. It was a mini homecoming. Jack felt a rush of emotion as memories of the past came crashing into the present. The ghost of his younger self haunted these ancient rooms: the happiness he felt here ten years earlier, the flush of first love experienced at the age of twenty. The sights, the smells, the feelings.

  Jack wondered for the first time whether he had done the right thing in coming back.

  *

  Stefano Dante was reversing his truck down a narrow alley when a figure caught his eye for one brief moment. In the space between two buildings, he glimpsed a man with golden skin and thick blond hair for no more than a second. Stefano stepped hard on the brake, but by that time the man was gone, walking in the direction of the Piazza. Stefano held the brake and continued to stare through the empty gap.

  It couldn’t be him. Could it? Surely not after all this time. No, it was nothing more than a passing stranger with a resemblance, seen too fast for the eye to discern the difference. Jack. How long had it been? Eight years? Nine? A long time. They might pass each other on the street these days and not know each other. Ten years, was it? Maybe more. A man can change a lot in that time.

  But just for a moment, it had looked so much like him.

  Stefano released the brake and continued to back up. He had no time for daydreaming or reminiscences. He had a truck full of supplies that the restaurant needed.

  The head chef and two of his assistants were waiting as he backed up to the door. They started unloading the cases of fish, meat, and vegetables from the rear before he cut the engine. There was much to be done to prepare for the lunch orders. Even early in the season, Stefano prided himself on the freshness of the food in his restaurant, and he visited the market every morning to ensure they had the very best.

  Leaving the kitchen staff to their work, he passed straight through the restaurant, where Lucia, his head waitress, and two of the waiters were laying the tables with linen cloths. He cast a careful eye over their work as he passed. His staff was excellent, and the keen attention of a manager ensured they stayed that way.

  Stefano stepped out onto the small terrace that overlooked the bay. The mid-morning sun cast diamond ripples on the clear blue water. Stefano shielded his eyes against the glare and searched the waterfront for signs of the blond stranger. He knew it wasn’t Jack. It couldn’t be. And yet he looked for him just the same, scanning the harbour hopefully.

  A small group of tourists made their way toward the Church of St Martin. The man was not among them. A young couple stood taking photographs of the spectacular white yacht slowly exiting the harbour. He wasn’t there, either. Stefano searched the full curve of the bay and saw nothing. Whoever the man was, he wasn’t here now.

  He sighed softly. His heart felt unexpectedly heavy. This reaction was crazy, raising his hopes so high because a stranger he’d glimpsed for barely a second reminded him of a man from a long time ago. Not just any man, that was true. Consciously or unconsciously, Jack was the man he’d judged all men against since that distant summer. He had known many good men since, but no one quite like Jack.

  “What’s with the face?” Lucia came out onto the terrace with two cups of coffee, very black, very strong.

  “Caught in a moment,” Stefano said. They sat at a waterfront table, enjoying the warmth and tranquillity.

  “Care to share it?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, summoning a smile. “Just a memory from a long time ago.”

  “A good memory?”

  He nodded and smiled. “A little bittersweet, but a good one nonetheless.”

  *

  Jack restlessly paced the pavement in front of the restaurant. Most of the tables on the terrace were taken, though a couple remained empty in the shade toward the back. If he didn’t make a move soon, those would go too. His heart was racing, and his mouth was dry.

  This was ridiculous. He had performed onstage to thousands with less apprehension than this. His hands trembled, and he’d already wasted half an hour approaching the terrace before shying away to circle the harbour again.

  Get a grip on yourself, Jack, this is what you came for.

  But a small voice inside continued to nag him. You should never go back. Things won’t be the same. He knew that already. Things couldn’t be the same, not after so long. A town like Portofino didn’t change much in ten years, but people did. He certainly had. So what was the problem?

  Summoning the performance skills he used to get onstage, Jack took a deep breath and approached the restaurant terrace. This was it. He was doing it, no turning back.

  A striking-looking waitress in her early forties greeted him with a smile.

  “Could I get a table for one?” he asked, returning the smile.

  “Of course.”

  She led him to the two remaining tables on the terrace and gave him the choice. Jack chose the round table with the best view of the sea. His insides were still in turmoil, but he hid it well.

  “My name is Lucia,” the waitress said in perfect English as she presented the leather-bound menu. “Would you like something to drink while you choose?”

  “A glass of champagne.”

  With another perfect smile, Lucia left him to study the menu.
Jack dry swallowed. He glanced at the words on the page, but didn’t understand their meaning. This was crazy. He was thirty-one years old. He had travelled all over the world. This was no way to behave.

  A waiter appeared and served a table to his left with two steaming plates of mussels. Jack turned instinctively to look. The waiter was darkly Italian with a handsome face and a tight physique. He had long legs and a great ass, but he wasn’t who Jack was looking for. Jack exhaled slowly. Just because the restaurant’s website stated the owner / manager was a man called Stefano Dante, that didn’t mean he would be here today. Or that the information was even up to date, for God’s sake. He’d been too excited to learn Stefano still lived and worked in Portofino to actually double-check the facts.

  Finally, he read the menu properly.

  A shadow fell across the table. “Your champagne, sir.”

  A man’s voice. It was older but unforgettable.

  Jack turned as the man set down the sparkling flute, condensation gently misting its sides. As the man turned to look at him, time stood still.

  “Stefano,” Jack whispered.

  “Oh my God. It is you!”

  Jack was on his feet, and they suddenly had their arms around each other. Stefano’s trunk was fuller now, more muscular than the young man he used to know, but his embrace was comforting and familiar.

  “I don’t believe it,” Stefano said as they finally broke their hold. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on a small vacation,” Jack said. “Only three days. I’ve been dying to come back here for years. Now it’s finally happened.”

  He stood back to look at Stefano properly. He had hardly changed. He was slightly matured, broader, stronger. If anything, he was even sexier than he used to be. His youthful cuteness had transformed into something fuller and more handsome. The last time they met, Stefano was just a boy. He had grown up to be a real man.

  They sat face-to-face. Jack looked deep into Stefano’s dark eyes. Though he’d dreamed about them so many times, he’d forgotten just how powerfully hypnotic those eyes were. “You own this place now?”

  He nodded eagerly. “For almost two years, yes.”

  “Have you been here all this time? In Portofino?”

  “I spent some time away,” he said. “Studying. But I always came back during the summer to work. I was never away for long. I couldn’t bear it. My soul is here.”

  Jack laughed. “That’s no surprise. I couldn’t imagine you being anywhere but here. I’m so glad to see you are. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “How about you? Where do you call home?”

  Jack shrugged. “I don’t know where I would call home. I’ve never lived in one place long enough to set down roots. I have an apartment in New York, so you could say that’s my home, but I really don’t spend much time there.”

  “You have not changed,” Stefano said warmly. “Always travelling. I remember how you used to talk about seeing the whole world.”

  Jack smiled, remembering that young, idealistic version of himself. He’d been to a vast number of places all over the world, but had seen so little of them besides airports, hotels, and studios. His twenty-year-old self would hardly believe it was possible. Those were innocent, untroubled times.

  Stefano insisted they have lunch together, instructing Lucia to take over management of the shift. “And bring us a whole bottle of champagne. I haven’t seen my friend in so long, we have a lot to celebrate.”

  And they did. Across a long lunch of steamed clams, then langoustines followed by a rich chocolate torte, they talked about the last ten years and the highs and lows it had brought them. Jack tried to play down his success as a singer. Neither Stefano nor his staff treated him like a superstar, and that was exactly how he liked it. He told Stefano he was an entertainer and left it at that.

  “Do you still play your guitar?” Jack asked as the desserts were cleared away.

  “Only for my own amusement,” Stefano said. “No one here would want to hear the noise I make.”

  “You were a wonderful player.”

  Jack remembered the night the two of them climbed the cliff above the town and lit a small fire. They’d had a bottle of cheap red wine, a selection of cured meats, and a guitar. Stefano played while Jack serenaded him deep into the night. As the fire died, they came together and found warmth in each other’s bodies. In all the years since and all the places he’d been to, Jack had never known a night of such carefree abandon.

  An English couple in their late forties tentatively approached the table. “Excuse me, Jack,” the woman said. “We hate to bother you when you’re having lunch, but we’re such big fans of yours. We’ve seen you in concert three times now. I know this is terribly rude, but could we possibly trouble you for an autograph?”

  Stefano grinned while Jack signed his name on the back of a postcard and posed for selfies with the delighted couple. “So,” he said, as Jack sat down again. “I’m thinking you did not tell me the whole story about your life since Portofino.”

  Jack raised both hands. “Okay. Guilty. Sorry. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.” He still didn’t. It was just bad luck being recognised like that. He thought he would be safe this early in the season. The world was becoming an increasingly small place. He should know that better than anyone.

  “You should be proud of your success, not ashamed of it,” Stefano said. “I always knew you would do something special. You were such an amazing singer. Even when it was just the two of us, you gave everything to every song you sang. You must be very famous now, if people ask for your autograph. It’s such an honour that you came back to visit Portofino.”

  “Stefano, please, this is why I didn’t tell you. I don’t want things to change between us. Anyway, I didn’t come back to visit Portofino. I came back to see you.”

  Stefano looked straight at him. His face was unreadable. The words lingered in the air between them.

  Jack wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. Of all the things they’d discussed, the one they had avoided so far was their personal life. What if Stefano was with someone now? He might not want to remember the intimacy of their affair, thinking it better forgotten. He might be married now and have a family. How could I have been so stupid as not to think of that before?

  “You came to see me?”

  “Yes.”

  Stefano gave a beautiful smile, and suddenly he was twenty years old again. “Then we shouldn’t waste a moment. Let me speak to Lucia, and I will take the rest of the day off. I can’t believe this. It must be a dream.”

  “I feel the same, but it’s no dream. This is very real.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  Jack couldn’t stop smiling. “Would you believe me if I said the same place as before?”

  Stefano’s dark eyes widened. “The apartment?”

  “Couldn’t come to Portofino and stay anywhere else.”

  *

  They made love under the same roof, in the same bed they had shared ten years earlier. Older now, both more experienced, but the act of coming together was not so different. It was a profound fusion of lust, excitement, and exploration, but they possessed a confidence missing from their youthful union. Jack had thought this moment might never happen. Even today, arriving at the harbour, he was doubtful of finding the thing he’d yearned for all this time.

  He’d imagined this moment. Dreamed about it. Even written songs about it. One of them, “A Future Night of Love,” was one of his biggest hits, top ten in eighteen countries. But no dream or song compared to this sweet reality.

  They were naked on top of the king-sized bed in the sultry heat of late afternoon. Two perfect, strongly muscled bodies. Jack pressed his pale skin against Stefano’s dark, coppery tones. Constantly moving, limbs sliding between each other, hard cocks duelling as their mouths locked.

  Jack thrust his tongue into Stefano’s mouth. Tasting him, wanting to experience his body with every sense. The
warm, spicy scent of his skin, the firmness of his muscle, the magnificent curve of his ass.

  Ever since he became famous, people had thrown themselves at Jack: groupies, models, actors, and serious hunks with amazing bodies, but none of them compared to Stefano. He lit a spark no other man could ignite for Jack.

  Jack gripped Stefano’s weighty cock. Even that was thicker, more mature than he remembered.

  “I want this inside me,” Jack said, squeezing his dick. “Now.”

  Stefano put on a condom and gave him what he wanted. Getting between Jack’s legs, raising his ankles to his shoulders, he lubed his cock and Jack’s tender hole and entered. Slowly, carefully, pushing deep.

  They were lovers once again.

  *

  As darkness fell over the Mediterranean, the harbour of Portofino became a twinkling semicircle of light. Music and chatter drifted from the restaurants and cafés to the balcony of Jack’s apartment, underscored by the bombastic crash of the waves against the rocky coastline.

  “This is Heaven,” Jack remarked softly. “Heaven on Earth.”

  They stood on the balcony in just their underpants. The sea air was refreshingly cool on Jack’s bare skin, especially after the heat of the bedroom and the intensity of their lovemaking.

  Stefano slipped a hand around Jack’s waist and pulled him close. “It’s Heaven because you’re here. The rest of the time, it’s just a pretty village by the sea.”

  Jack wrapped his arm around Stefano and leaned into him. It was perfect indeed—the night, the place, and the man. What a fool he’d been, waiting so long to come back.