by J P Sayle
The sun burst through the opening cargo doors catching him off guard. Joe swore, his vision obscured by the sudden blinding light. He snatched up his Oakley’s of the dashboard, flicking down the sun visor blocking the low lying sunlight. Cursing his small stature, I’ll never be able to see the bloody road at this rate. Joe wriggled to adjust the seat position higher, before programming the Google map directions into the sat nav. His earlier excitement flooded back as he pulled into the traffic.
Twenty minutes later he questioned if he was in the right place. There couldn’t be so little traffic surely? Martin had lived in London for fuck sake, why would you move to bumfuck nowhere, even if it was quaint? Thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time to Kings of Leon, Joe’s grin spread, letting this new reality sink in. He took it all back, the place was absolute bliss when he considered the torture of the motorways and UK’s busy roads.
Distracted by the view of the sea he could see on the horizon entering Kirk Michael, he indicated pulling into the first layby he could see.
Wow, just total wowser.
His stunned eyes soaked up everything. Joe relaxed into the seat letting go of months’ worth of tension; muscles slowly released, easing the pain he’d lived with longer than was healthy. His body unwound, allowing him to wallow in the moment. A sudden thought popped into his head making him grin, this was going to be his daily view.
Elated, Joe looked around. It was so beautiful, lush green hills and fields stretched to his right, but it was the sea that captivated pulling his gaze back to its magnificence. Sparkling brighter than any diamond, bathed in the setting sunlight, ripe rich colours burst up attempting to escape the pull of the end of the day, not wanting to die. The oranges bled into deep reds casting into purples, the rainbow, he was sure would sizzle when the sea sucked it into its welcoming depths only to release it ready for another day. It was something else.
Joe ignored the talking sat nav, immersing himself in the beauty feeling care free. The Spice Girls ringtone jangled in his pocket dragging him from his musings. Joe sighed knowing the moment was over, but he felt gratified there would be more days to sit and watch.
“Yo, man, where the hell are you? You get lost or something? I’d have thought you would be banging on my door by now, demanding food.”
Joe chortled at the fake aggravation in Martin’s tone as he spoke. His genuine warmth worked its magic on his battered heart. He felt a silly grin pull at his face, answering. “I am sat in a layby, taking in the most majestic view. Which isn’t you, before you say it, but it just so happens to be Kirk Michael. So stop your whining, I’ll be there in a few.”
Joe was pleased when Martin responded with the same lightness. “Well, as you’re a mere minute away, I’ll go and have a quick shower as I just got in. You may as well go straight to Stuart’s. He’s expecting you, so go dump your stuff there and introduce your arse to him. Then you can either eat with Stuart or come over to us, your choice. Don’t worry, Brad made the lasagna, so you’re safe Stuart won’t be poisoning you today.” Brad’s muffled giggles stopping Martin mid flow.
Joe couldn’t quite hear what was said, but he got the jist when Martin spoke.
“Babe, stop that, I’m on the phone to Joe.”
Joe covered his eyes, mirth wanting to escape when he heard the sound of slapping and a heartfelt moan fill his ear.
Okay, that was enough of that. “Err, I will go to Stuart’s first then pop over after you two have emm, finished.” Martin’s garbled response had him laughing. Pulling back onto the main road, not fully convinced Martin was listening when he’d ended the call.
Finding the right cul-de-sac, Joe parked next to the iridescent navy blue Porsche 911 Carrera, careful not to get too close. The thing shone like a brand new penny. Joe smiled when he could see his reflection in its gleaming surface. He’d bet anything Stuart washed and polished it weekly.
Stepping out of the van, giving it a once over he sighed in disgust. It was barely three months old, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken it to the car wash. His once silver van had mud glued to the sides; filth coated the doors and windows. Streaked dirt had dried in rivulets on the windshield having forgotten to refill the water bottle for the windscreen wipers. Joe had taken to throwing bottles of tap water over it so he could see.
Joe hunched for a second when he looked back at the Porsche, lowering sunlight catching it, making it gleam brighter. He muttered in apathy. “It is only a vehicle for God’s sake.” It was what was inside that was important. He trusted Martin not to leave him with one of those stuffy sorts that didn’t like anyone with a dirty vehicle parked next to his pride and joy. He better not be a pushy bastard either, insisting he clean his van.
Joe huffed up the path, dropping his heavy bags. He blew his fringe out of his eyes, bracing himself before knocking on the door. It was time to meet his new housemate.
Joe’s mind shut down, his eyes tried to comprehend what they were seeing when the door suddenly flew open, revealing heated charcoal eyes and a whole lot of delicious, wet bronzed skin.
Thoughts jumbled together making it hard for Joe to think past his lust. He surveyed the well-defined abdomen as water slid into the muscled groves. Joe’s eyes followed the dripping water, seeing it head towards the tiny towel wrapped around lean hips. Bronze skin faded to pale where the towel dipped, showing off the blond happy trail leading down. Joe felt he might have swallowed his tongue at the thought of tracing along the pale deliciousness. His lips tingled, wondering if it would taste as delicious as it looked.
Am I drooling? It sure as hell feels like it. The urge to lick, suck, and taste all over that broad muscular, hairless chest made his tongue glue to the roof of his mouth. Fascinated, Joe continued to watch water move, soaking the miniscule towel barely covering Stuart’s glorious body.
His attention wavered, caught by the budding golden discs directly in front of him. The breeze had them standing to attention, his fingers itched to tweak and pull on them.
Fuck, he was a splendid specimen of a man. Joe thought he reminded him of a gazelle tall and sleek, it seemed to fit him. Well defined muscles looked to him like a fine-tuned engine used to regular maintenance. Long powerful bronzed legs exposed by the tiny towel had him laying odds Stuart was a runner. Joe could see the same fine pale hair from his happy trail, cover the length of his legs as they disappeared under the towel, making him wonder if the hair would feel coarse against his naked body.
Thoughts whizzed at speed through Joe’s lust addled brain. His eyes feasted, travelling against his will to Stuart’s crotch. Joe wet his lips, wanting to devour Stuart’s naked flesh, wishing the breeze was a little stronger. The towel swished for a second as if answering his silent wish. Joe’s eager gaze willed the wind to give up Stuart’s secrets. Inhaling deeply, Joe’s senses clouded. A deep musky scent had a fruity undertone tugged at his core, urging him to step closer, sample the skin and find the source of the flavour.
Joe leaned forward lost in his fantasy, unsure whether he was going to touch or lick. The loud cough behind had him jerking back, furiously blushing unable meet Martin’s eye’s.
“Well, it seems you two have gotten acquainted already, so there’s no need for an introduction, it would seem. Though, Stuart, I would suggest next time you get dressed before flashing the whole neighbourhood.” Martin’s angry sarcasm had Joe look between the two men, not sure what he was he missing.
He shrugged it off when Martin stepped forward lifting him into his arms, hugging hard. His feet dangled, but Martin didn’t seem to struggle with his weight, instead he gripped him closer. Joe hugged him back, sucking back the tears that threatened to overtake his overwhelmed emotions. God, I’ve missed him so much.
Joe batted at Martin’s arms when he got himself under control, though he was secretly pleased for the distraction. Not entirely sure what he would have done if he had been left to his own devices.
“Come on, put me down, you big lug. You d
on’t want to strain that back of yours.” Joe waggled his eyebrows going for a leer, hoping to remove the concern in Martin’s face at the mention of straining his back.
“Fuck, Joe, you hardly weigh more than a child. What the fuck has been going on with you? You look like you have spent months in a bloody concentration camp.” Martin’s earlier warming affection caused by the hug dissipated under his hurt outrage.
Joe wiggled out of his arms, huffing. His own temper started simmer. Feeling a heated stare, he realised Stuart was watching with avid interest. Joe didn’t want to have this confrontation in front of a stranger.
Reining in his anger, he pleaded. “Not now, okay?” Martin’s curt nod had him relax a little.
Joe wasn’t ready to talk about it, even with Martin, and not entirely sure, he ever would be. Martin’s hurt expression stabbed deep, but he hoped they could get past it, they had to. Joe felt his desperation rise, unsure he’d survive without Martin’s strength, his friendship.
The sheen of tears gathering at the corner of his eyes had him looking away, blinking fast. His fragile heart yearned for the comfort Martin’s arms would offer, but this was neither the time nor the place when Martin would demand answers. Joe pulled back instead, ignoring the pain when all he wanted to do was bury himself in Martin’s warm affection.
Joe was never more grateful to see the small man peering from behind Martin’s shoulder. His lips curved in pleasure at Brad’s musical voice.
“Hey, Joe, how’s it hanging?”
Joe gave Brad a quick hug, laughing as he pulled back. “I think I’ll stick around, I don’t often feel tall, but you’re making me feel like a giant at the moment.” Joe’s eyes danced with merriment at Martin. “You must feel like gigantor or is that the incredible hulk.” Joint laugher erupted around him, unable to contain his glee at Martin’s scowl, when Stuart got in on the act.
Martin’s scowling glare the last thing Joe saw as he turned on his heel, heading towards the house opposite. Angry words flying towards them all. “When you all decide to grow up and be adults, I’ll be the one with beer.”
The resounding slam had Joe bending forward trying to catch his breath. Tears streaked his cheeks as his laughter bellowed out. God, it felt good just to let go. Joe grinned at Brad as he got himself under control with effort, only to be thwarted when Brad spoke.
“He’s a little sensitive when people mention the height difference. We went out a few weeks ago and someone thought I was his son.” Brad’s impish smile only added to the hilarity.
Joe couldn’t contain the peals of laughter, watching Stuart struggle too.
When Stuart spoke up, it only had them all laughing harder. “Your father, Brad, oh God he must have been hopping mad. That is too funny, oh you wait, he isn’t going to hear the end of this.”
They all fell about laughing. Joe could hardly see past his streaming eyes, wiping his face on his sleeve, he tried to pull himself together.
Joe enjoyed the camaraderie between them all. He’d missed this in the past few months, keeping to himself was never something to be relished. He loved people watching, it was why he enjoyed the Intel searches, gaining insight into other’s lives. A heavy sigh left his lips before he could stop it, his thoughts sobering. Joe frowned at the reality of what Joel had stolen from him.
Shaking off his gloominess, realising he’d killed the mood. “Come on, Brad, you may as well help me empty my stuff out the van.” Joe flicked a quick glance at Stuart’s towel. His little devil begged to come out and play. Joe turned away. He was so not going there.
Instead speaking to Brad, “Stuart’s a little indisposed.” Joe saw Brad’s gaze roam Stuart’s body. He watched in fascination as heat permeated Brad’s honey skin, making him glow.
Joe looked back seeing Stuart grapple with the tiny piece of cloth that was showing the tip of a very juicy looking cock.
Brad’s flushed cheeks faced him offering a small wink before he headed off to Joe’s van. Nope, he’d promised himself he would not be led astray by his wayward cock. It so is not happening. He valiantly ignored the little voice whispering it could, if he wanted it to.
He rushed after Brad when his body vibrated with the urge to go back and climb up the mountain of wet, gleaming bronzed skin. Did he polish his body as well as his car, he wondered? Joe gave a strangled groan at his random thought. He dragged the remaining bags out of the side of the van, attempting to focus on the job at hand, and not the man that had disappeared inside.
Brad’s sudden stillness had him gaze around to see what the problem was. Joe gave Brad a nudge when he stood transfixed, gazing inside of his van.
Brad’s whispered reverence had Joe looking back in the van. “Oh my God is that he HEX Ultra M5000X with Intel Xeon 14-Core E5-2697v4?”
Joe nodded in agreement, not that Brad noticed as he was already climbing inside.
“You look to have done some modifications to the system?”
Joe was gobsmacked, hardly anyone understood the complex level of his computer systems. Joe’s bewilderment turned to utter joy when Brad started firing questions at a rate of knots at him. Joe felt a newfound respect developing between him and Brad. Climbing in he answered Brad’s questions and showing what his baby could do, cementing their friendship.
Twenty minutes later they still hadn’t moved. His growling stomach had Brad giving an apologetic smile. “Come on, I made lasagna and garlic bread for you and Stuart. Hopefully, he hasn’t scoffed the lot while we’ve been busy.”
The musical lilt in Brad’s voice had Joe questioning its origin.
“Originally Cambridge, but the Island has always really been my home. I have developed a good ole Manx twang. You’ll see if you stay long enough it rubs off on you. Though Martin thinks his British accent won’t change, but we’ll see. See you later.” Brad waved him off as he headed to his own home.
Strolling silently towards what was going to be his home, if only for a little bit. Joe paused looking around, not making out much in the dwindling daylight, but he got a good feeling about this place. The clatter of plates coming from inside, had him rethinking for a second. Nope, he would deal with the unwelcome attraction and keep his promise to himself. His shoulders sagged, feeling a little desperate when the defeated sigh floated on the quiet evening air, mocking his determination.
Stuart
Stuart’s agitation grew as he stepped back into the shower. It had to be the same man, it had to be. Slightly older yes, but those eyes, eyes don’t lie. He’d obsessed about them often enough to remember them anywhere. Stuart felt a familiar ache in his chest, knowing without a shadow of doubt he’d only ever felt it once before.
His revving body unable to hold on any longer, reality slamming into his oversensitive balls causing him to grip his cock, two swift pulls had cum bathing the shower floor. He bit back his moans, mortified at his loss of control. Stuart let his body sag against the wet tiles, feeling the cool, smooth surface slide against his overheated skin. He let his mind clear, understanding his lack of control was a foregone conclusion after opening his front door.
Unsure how long he had stood staring in shock before Martin had interrupted. Recalling how Joe’s intense stare had all but buckled his knees. Joe’s obvious desire making in nigh on impossible to hide his own under the towel. He knew what Joe and Brad had caught sight of, horrified at his lack of modesty.
Shit, I had flashed the whole cul-de-sac for fuck sake! Stuart shook his head in dismay, thoughts of his neighbours spotting him flashing his bits, completing his humiliation. Stuart groaned, already seeing his name splashed across the pages of the Courier. With what they normally reported in the newspapers, it would probably make front page.
He chastised himself for his own stupidity. Inhaling, he tried to slow his racing pulse. Instead all he got was a steamy mouthful of cum coated air. Groaning, his mouth watered, his body starting to feel re-energised when hot, dreamy chocolate eyes swam before his eyelids. His cock firmed, leaving him
lightheaded when all his blood rushed south. His lust seeming nigh on impossible to think past.
Laughter drifted up the stairs from outside reminding him now was not the time. His eager cock on the other hand, seemed in complete disagreement, slapping against his abs, leaking pre-cum. Joe’s musical laughter not helping Stuart’s cause, he closed his ears forcing himself to wash quickly.
He stepped out of the shower, drying off, ignoring his pulsing desire. Stuart looked at his straining predicament, grabbing some loose joggers and praying it hid his desire. He headed to heat the meal, his earlier hunger lost to a different meal he’d like to eat. Every step reminding him of his dilemma, maybe he should have sorted himself first?
Fuck it.
Stuart pushed searing chocolate eyes to the back of his mind and headed to the kitchen, to give himself something else to focus on. He hovered over the table. Should he set it? Deciding it couldn’t hurt, he pulled the place settings out of the side drawer. He moved silently hearing the occasional burst of laughter from outside.
The setting sun idled, reflecting light on to the copper pots hanging above the breakfast bar. Not much of a cook himself, he’d been intrigued by Martin’s kitchen set up. He’d explained the kitchen had been refurbished before he’d bought it. A local carpenter handcrafted the oak wood cabinets. Stuart could see the quality in the design and build. The wood appeared alive, glowing with life, creating lovely warmth that invited you in.
The homeliness begged for smells of freshly baked bread and homemade soups. He had no memories of his grandparents, but his mother said his grandmother had taught her to bake from scratch. Their kitchen at home when he had been growing up had always smelt of fresh baking. His childhood kitchen had been a place for family time, no phones or telly. His father had been adamant, and nothing impinged, not even his work.
They were good memories to have, and this kitchen gave him that same feeling of centeredness his family home had. The slow slide of grief reminded that nothing could fill the hole inside his chest his father’s death had created. It ached like a bruise that you forgot about only to knock it making it hurt all over again.
