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I had fun fisting Bao back in July of last year and even wrote a story about it. It took us about nine months to reconnect again. This time we decided we’d fist each other rather than the last time when I topped him only.

When I arrived to his place, Bao was already in a red and black neoprene jockstrap. He looked so sexy, his smooth slender body was causing my caged dick some discomfort trying to chub.

I stripped down to my jock by the front door and we went to his bedroom. There was a sling set up next to his bed. There were toys laid out on the bed and tubs of lube.

Bao and I laid next to each other on his bed and he reached over to his nightstand to grab his pipe. I was already a bit heady from the gummies I’d eaten about an hour or so before I arrived. Bao and I took turns blowing clouds and then we did a couple exchanges of smoke into our open mouths which was so hot. Bao set the pipe down and we decided to lube up his double sided fist dildo.

I laid down on my back facing Bao, both of us holding our legs in the air as we poppered up and pushed half of that toy inside of our asses. We were touching butts, I began to rock my hips a bit fucking inside Bao’s hungry hole and after a few minutes he returned the favor.

We were both pretty high and the poppers were making our holes very ravenous. We had separate tubs of lube so we weren’t cross contaminating, and we each lubed up our hands and slid them next to the fake fists already up our holes. It took some good maneuvering and coordination, but somehow we managed to punch fuck each other while keeping that awesome fist toy in our asses. Bao’s small hand fit easily inside my greedy cunt, and his was so open, my balled up fist faced no resistance.

After the initial blowout of our respective holes we needed to switch it up. We put the two-sided fist dildo on a towel next to the bed and we did another quick round of clouds before Bao mounted the sling. I coated both my forearms including the elbows with plenty of grease. I didn’t want to have to pause when I annihilated that pussy.

Bao huffed on his brown bottle as I stuffed my right fist straight into his butt, about 2/3 to the elbow.

“Oh fuck!”, he cried.

Then I turned him into a blubbering idiot when I sawed my forearm in and out of his cunt, finishing with twenty or more rapid fire punches splitting open that ass ring and making those lips swell up nice and puffy. When I pulled my fist out, Bao’s red rosebud appeared.

I rubbed my fingers all around it and watched Bao take more hits really losing himself which was so hot to see. It was time to let my left fist do some damage to that deconstructed hole and I repeated the same treatment. Bao looked like he was out of his mind. I was so excited that I could take him to this kind of ecstasy.

It was time to really take him to the next dimension so I started to swirl both my fists around that pig hole circling the drain, and when Bao least expected it, I plunged them both inside that asshole one over the other and pushed up beyond my wrists and then quickly pulled them out.

Bao growled and nodded his head up and down. Bao had his gas mask at the ready and placed it over his head.

“Oh fuck yeah, boy!”, I shouted.

I greased up real good again and now with both fists side to side I blew out that cunt with both forearms half way to the elbow. Bao was out of his fucking mind, his eyes rolled up in the back of his head as he had his hands up at each side reveling in his stupor as the sling slid down my fists on the downstroke.

“Oh fuck, I’m fucking that pig cunt deep!” I had a running commentary, making sure Bao knew exactly what was happening.

After almost a full hour in the sling. It was time for a drink break to keep hydrated and time to switch it up. While we were drinking Gatorade, Bao’s phone pinged and it was another playmate of his who was all top. He was a 40-ish Black bear of a man, bearded face, hairy chest and meaty paws. Bao told him I was there and if he was up for a third, he was welcomed to come join us. He was agreeable and said he’d be over in about 30 minutes.

Well, after another round of cloud blowing, it was my turn to get in the sling. We left the door unlocked for Jamal to join us.

My asshole had been aching for attention for well over an hour at this point, I was anxious to popper up and let myself go into the oblivion. I took some long deep sniffs off the IronFist bottle and kicked back while Bao’s clenched right hand pushed right through me like butter. He pushed his forearm all the way up to his elbow on the first push. The sensation was remarkable as Bao pulled his forearm all the way out and pushed it right back inside with a little more might.

The chemicals in my body made my cunt swinish for more than just one fist.

“Give me your other fist, man!”, I screamed.

Bao gave me an evil snicker and greased up again while I took another round of hits and my cunt opened up like a deep tunnel. I’ve never had anyone play my hole with two forearms like that before, rolling them back and forth, twisting both around and around, punching into me, making me so delirious I almost didn’t even see Jamal enter the room.

Bao didn’t stop as Jamal stripped down to his briefs and greased up his larger hands.

I had always wanted to take a triple fisting but the opportunity didn’t seem to present itself. I didn’t even have to beg for it. Bao pulled one of his fists out of my hole and Jamal pushed his inside. They both worked my hole over together and when I sniffed the bottle again, Bao pried his other fist back inside me, taking me to a new level of hole stretching I’d never experienced before. My caged dick was creaming as my former shit hole was destroyed and turned into a mincemeat cave. It was glorious!

Not to be outdone, when Bao pulled  his fists out, Jamal gave me his double barrel, uppercutting my cunt. I never felt like such a pig like this before. I pulled on the gas mask and Bao pried his fist back inside me for another round of triple  fisting. This was something beyond my wildest dreams and imagination. I never would have expected to experience this on this day, but there I was on the receiving end of three paws buried in my cunt! The highlight was when Bao punched his smaller fist through the middle of Jamal’s larger hands, I swear I thought I was in heaven. I’ve chased highs like that before, but this was on a completely different level, and wonder if I’d ever be able to replicate this feat again in my entire fisting life.

Finally, after a period of rest, I dismounted the sling and watched Jamal have at Bao’s hole. I was playing with a toy on the bed trying to come down a bit before jumping back into the game. I didn’t think Bao was missing me too much based on the sounds he was making when Jamal was double fisting him.

I took another long sip of Gatorade and decided it was time to see if Bao’s hole could take a triple. I greased up my smaller left hand up to the elbow. Jamal held his fists next to each other while Bao put on the mask and I started to pry his fingers apart, parting Bao’s hole wider as I pressed inside. When my fist made its way past Jamal’s, Bao’s hungry cunt swallowed my clenched fist right up. When Bao pulled off his mask, he threw his hands up again and nodded at me to keep going. I inched in a little further, and a little further, slowly, patiently, using my right hand to continuously coat my forearm with more lube until I’d made it to the elbow.

Bao poppered up and I pulled my forearm back towards Jamal’s fists and then pressed my way back in deep. I slowly built up speed as I worked Bao into a frenzy, eventually giving that hole the punch out it deserved just like Bao had done to me. It was truly magical to focus on his cute face as Jamal and I teamed up to take Bao to the brink of euphoria unlike he’d ever had before.

We took a pause, drank more fluids and hit the pipe for a final round after playing for almost four hours already. Bao and I got on all fours on the bed next to each other, Jamal sat on a chair behind us and rode us chariot, punching us out with his huge paws as Bao and I kissed. Then we flipped onto our backs and pulled our legs back. Jamal was getting deeper inside me, punching me and Bao almost to his elbows, sawing his arms inside us like two goons.

When Jamal got tired, he laid flat on the bed and raised his fists up. Bao and I each mounted one and rode hard and made out while Jamal watched us pig out. Fuck that was hot.

Bao and I were still pretty high, we each lubed up one of Jamal’s feet and mounted ourselves over his toes. The stretch was awesome, Jamal probably had size 14 feet, he was a big man!  Bao and I held onto each other for balance as we fed our holes over those huge feet, feeding each other poppers. Bao’s little dick was leaking as was mine.

Jamal was ready to blow his load as he had to go, so we kneeled on the bed as Jamal stroked off standing up and came hard into our open mouths. Naturally, like two greedy sluts we snowballed our cum catches into each other’s mouths. Jamal wiped his cock on our cheeks and lips.

He dismounted the bed and dressed while Bao and I continued to fornicate with Jamal’s load facilitating our passion. He tapped us both on our asses and left us alone.

“Hey, you want me to go?”

“No man, I can go for more if you wanna stay”, Bao said.

“Fine, but I think we need to lay off the pipe, cool?”

“Yeah, cool.”

Bao and I did another round of mutual fisting in bed, slow punching our holes. It wasn’t easy to get leverage from our positions to dig in deep or go hard.

“I think my cunt is wrecked, man”, Bao said., “but I’m up for going another ground in the sling if you need it.”

“You sure?”, I asked.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“Cool, yeah, let’s do it.”

Bao and I looked for a good toy to play with. We landed on Mr, Hanky’s replica of HungerFF’s prolapse. I mounted the sling and put my feet up in the stirrups and hit the poppers while Bao got the toy nice and sloppy. Oh my God all those realistic ridges in that toy felt so ridiculously phenomenal inching up my butt. Once we had it all the way in, I hit the bottle again and Bao proceeded to fuck me with that toy from tip to base, shredding my hole. It was perfect!

“You want my fists now, pig?”

“Fuck yeah!”

Bao threw the toy on the floor and got his hands well lubricated. I threw the gas mask on a final time that night and Bao’s clasped hands pushed inside me. Bao made a large fist with both hands and pushed all the way to his elbows, up and back, up and back, swinging the sling until my cunt was so loose it was just punching itself over his fist. I was cored out and excavated. Bao threw me some last double barrel punches and it was time to call it. My cunt was done, wrecked, obliterated, finished.

The sun was rising and we were down for the count, we cleaned off a bit and Bao invited me to sleep with him and given my state of mind, I took him up on the offer. We slept until 3 in the afternoon, and then I took a ride share home and fell back to sleep. What a wild time!

The rain in New Orleans always feels like it has a grudge against you. That was the thought that came to me as I stood under an awning in front of a candle store on the edge of Jackson Square while watching the torrential afternoon downpour that I had only escaped just a few minutes ago. It was so intense that I could barely see the equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson that dominated the small, urban park. The day had started out bright, cool and sunny, with only a few clouds floating lazily across the sky. Roaming the French Quarter after a satisfying lunch, I was lucky enough to find an unoccupied bench in the Square and I claimed it immediately. I took a look around and didn’t see many people; in fact, most of the other benches were empty as well. I opened my knapsack, took out my book and water bottle, then set the sack on one end of the bench to act as a makeshift pillow. I laid down, stretched out and was soon deep into reading and enjoying the lovely weather as the ambient noise of the Quarter soon faded into the background. 

I was so engrossed in my book that I failed to notice the darkening sky until the first raindrop hit me in the forehead followed rapidly by another. And another. I looked up and saw that the sky had turned to a menacing shade of dark gray. “Fuck me,” I muttered to myself as I quickly shoved my book and water bottle into my knapsack. No sooner had I zipped it shut than the heavens opened and it started pouring. By the time I had shouldered my bag and got to my feet I was already drenched. I made a mad dash for the closest place to shelter, the Saint Louis Cathedral on the north side of the Square. I slipped and fell running up the steps, struggled to get back up, only to find the church doors were locked. Of course, I thought to myself. Turning around in frustration and totally ignoring the sanctity of this place of worship, I raised my head to the sky and screamed, “Fuck!!!” at the top of my lungs. I carefully jogged back down the steps and ran to the place where I should have gone first: the Pontalba building on the west side of the Square. Matched by an identical building on the east side, it had apartments on the upper floors, expensive stores on the ground floor and most importantly, an awning that offered shelter from the rain. 

I stood there, soaking wet, cold and irritated as hell while trying to decide what to do next. My hotel was on Canal Street, which was six blocks away and I really didn’t want to hoof it in the rain, not that I could get any wetter. Puddles were forming around my feet from the water dripping off me. I thought about calling an Uber, but there was no guarantee I would find one quickly in the Quarter, especially in weather like this. I didn’t want to go into a bar, even though liquor would probably put me in a better mood. I couldn’t think of any other options so I reluctantly settled on the first. I picked up my knapsack, sighed heavily and was about to head out when I heard a voice behind me say, “Wow man, you really got caught in it, didn’t you?” I turned around and saw a young man who looked to be around nineteen or twenty years old, with long wavy blonde hair that fell to just above his shoulders and beautiful green eyes that had a beguiling softness. His skin was pale, almost translucent and he had a lovely, angelic face, with an adorably petite nose and lips that were pale pink, curved and sensual. My eyes swept over the rest of him and I saw that he was around five feet, ten inches tall with a lithe, slender body, like that of a dancer. He was dressed casually in a black t-shirt with a Pride symbol on it, tight blue jeans and sandals and he possessed an ethereal beauty, like the character Tadzio from the film Death in Venice. He was stunning and despite my wet and miserable condition I felt myself getting aroused within seconds of looking at him. 

I smiled and said, “Yeah, I sure did.” He gave an almost seductive grin and said, “Yeah, no doubt man. I mean you are drenched.” As he spoke, I could see his eyes running up and down my body like a pair of searchlights and I realized that he was checking me out. I was pleased but not surprised given that my muscular upper body was now plainly visible through my tight, white, soaking wet t-shirt. Not to brag or anything but I am a perfect example of a sexy daddy. I’m fifty-two years old with a physique I’ve developed through decades of intense muscle training and a hairy six-foot-tall body that’s several degrees shy of bear status. A fuck buddy once told me that I somewhat resemble Christopher Meloni and yeah okay maybe except my features aren’t as intense (I can’t stare down someone the way he can), my eyes are dark brown, my ears are smaller and I have a full head of gray hair cut in a military style flat top. I have a healthy tan, no tattoos and my face is clean shaven except for a neatly trimmed mustache. And unlike Meloni, I have a huge cock and a hefty set of balls. Yeah, I’ve seen Oz. Mine is nine inches long and thick as hell. 

The young man finished his visual inspection, then raised his gaze to meet mine and asked, “So are you a local or a visitor?” “Visitor,” I replied, “but I’ve been here many times. I live in Dallas. I had a few personal days that I had to use or lose so here I am.” “Cool, cool,” he responded, then stuck out his hand and said, “My name is Ian.” I smiled, shook his hand with a firm grip and said, “Nice to meet you Ian. I’m Derek.” “Nice to meet you too,” he said. I released his hand and we just stood there for an awkward moment. He had initiated contact but now seemed uncertain about how to proceed. He seemed a bit nervous now, a surprising contrast to his initial boldness. It was adorable actually and I started to imagine what it would be like to fuck him. I decided to goad him a little “So Ian,” I said, “I’m pretty sure you were checking me out just now. Do you like what you see?” His eyes widened, his face turned pink and he started to stammer, “Oh no, I was just um, just um, I mean I wasn’t trying to, oh man I’m sorry, yes, yes I was.” He got ahold of himself and looked me in the face briefly before turning away. “I’m sorry man,” he said with downcast eyes, “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was feeling courageous for some reason but now I just feel stupid.” He recovered enough poise to look at me directly again and said, “I’m sorry to have bothered you man,” then turned and started to walk away. 

“Wait,” I said. He stopped walking and was utterly still. “Turn around,” I said, “and come back here.” He obeyed, standing nervously in front of me. “Don’t be embarrassed kid. I’m actually flattered,” I said while giving him my most charming and sincere smile. “Really?” he asked as he cautiously met my gaze. “Yeah really,” I said, “a cute young man shows interest in an old guy like me, of course I’m going to be flattered.” He laughed a little and said, “Aw come on man, you’re not old,” then his face turned serious as he belatedly realized everything I had just said. He gave a grin that was both shy and uncertain, then asked, “Do you really think I’m cute?” “Fuck yeah,” I said, “cute and sexy.” “Wow,” he said while trying not to smile too proudly. He looked downwards while chewing on his thumbnail, obviously weighing his next move. He looked up at me suddenly and said, “Hey man, you must be cold in those wet clothes. If you want to come upstairs to my apartment, I have a bottle of Courvoisier XO that might help warm you up.” I smiled thinking yeah real subtle kid. “Cognac does sound good,” I said. He looked relieved, excited and nervous as he nodded his head and said, “Okay then. Follow me.”

He led me to the building entrance, then up two flights of stairs to a long hallway. As we walked, I noticed that his tight jeans perfectly accentuated his small, but gorgeously rounded ass. I asked if he lived alone, which I thought was extremely unlikely given how expensive rents were in the Pontalba. “I live with my parents, but don’t worry,” he said when he saw the hesitant look on my face, “they’re in Miami for the rest of the week.” I let out a sigh of relief as we approached the apartment. He unlocked the door and moved aside, saying, “After you.” I stepped inside and let out a low whistle of appreciation at the beautiful and spacious apartment. I saw polished hardwood floors, expensive looking contemporary furniture, paintings adorning every wall in sight and windows that provided a lovely view of the French Quarter. He went past me, headed towards a bar that was exquisitely carved out of mahogany. I followed, rapidly closing the distance between us. “Let me just find us some glasses,” he said, but before he could open the bar cabinet, I grabbed him gently yet firmly and turned him around to face me. I gazed at his beautiful face, his lovely green eyes and his luscious lips. I put my hands on either side of his head while caressing him softly as he stared numbly up at me, his expression alternating between fear and desire. Then I kissed him, a soft, gentle lingering kiss on the lips. I felt him tremble and heard him sigh, his pulse racing beneath my fingertips. My animal lust was rising, my cock rapidly hardening. I pulled away and fixed him with a smoldering stare. “You didn’t bring me up here just for cognac,” I asked huskily, “did you kid?” “No sir,” he whispered, his eyes wide and gazing deeply into my own. “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” I said and I wrapped my powerful arms around him, pulling his body close to mine as I kissed him again. 

It was an intensely passionate kiss, driven by my fiery erotic craving for this young man. I thrust my tongue deep into his mouth and he responded in kind, his arms embracing me, his tongue wrestling with mine, our bodies grinding against each other. My erection was throbbing like mad now. I pulled his arm from around my torso, then grabbed his hand and planted his palm firmly against my groin. “Oh my god,” he said as he felt how much meat I was packing. “Yeah, that’s the reason you invited me here, isn’t it kid?” I asked with a wicked grin. He nodded while groping my hard-on through my jeans and said, “Yes. Please man. It’s been so long since I’ve had any and I’m so fucking horny.” “That makes two of us,” I said as I pulled my t-shirt off and tossed it aside. He just stared at my muscular torso, looking like he was about to start drooling. “Damn man,” he said as his eyes met mine, “you are so fucking sexy.” “Touch me,” I said with a wicked smile. He gave a quick nod and said, “Yes sir.”

He put his hands on my broad, bulky shoulders first, then slowly caressed his way down to my pumped-up biceps. I flexed, causing them to bulge and eliciting a sigh of arousal from him. He moved to my chest, his pale, delicate hands gently massaging my brawny, sculpted pecs. He began playing with my nipples, rubbing them between thumb and forefinger, then gently pulling on them. “Suck them,” I ordered and he obeyed instantly, wrapping his beautiful lips around my left nipple while caressing it with the tip of his tongue, causing it to harden and inflaming my lust to a level of savagery I hadn’t experienced in years. As he started to lick, suck and slobber on my right nipple, I knew that not only was I going to fuck this kid, but that it was going to be relentless and intense. I let him feast on my nips for a few minutes, enjoying the exquisite feeling before deciding to crank things up a notch.

“Where’s your bedroom?” I asked. He detached himself from my chest and looked up at me with drool on his chin. “Down the hall,” he said. “Let’s go,” I said. He led me down the hallway to his room on the right at the end. As I followed him in, my eyes swept the room. I saw a dresser with a mirror, a small desk, a bookcase, a wooden frame bed with a nightstand and dirty clothes scattered over the floor. The furniture was in the Mission style, an interesting choice for a high-end New Orleans apartment and his youth was evident in the music posters on the walls. He turned to face me and I just stared briefly before telling him, “Take off your shirt.” He did as he was told, tossing it on the floor. He had a tight, slim body with a skinny yet toned chest, washboard abs and succulent pink nipples. “God damn you are beautiful,” I said while reaching out and pulling him to me so that our naked torsos were touching. And then I kissed him, as deeply and fervently as before. I pulled back, looking hungrily at his adorable face. “So damned beautiful,” I said before kissing him again.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted him and I wanted him now. I reached down and grabbed my bulging junk through my jeans. “You want this kid?” I asked. He gave a quick nod and then said, “Yes, God yes, I want it so fucking bad.” “Good,” I said, “now take your pants off.” I saw genuine lust in his eyes as he rapidly removed his sandals and shucked off his jeans. He was wearing the cutest pair of skimpy lime green bikini briefs that barely concealed his erection. Hesitating for only a second, he then took off his underwear as well and stood there with a shy smile, his youthful nude beauty displayed for me alone. His prick was small, around five inches, but it was perfectly proportionate to his slender body and fully erect, jutting upwards at a proud angle. “Turn around,” I said, “and show me your ass.” He did so and holy fuck it was gorgeous. It was small but slightly plump, beautifully rounded and as pale as the rest of him; the perfect rear end for me to ravage with my cock. He turned back around, looked me up and down and asked, “What about you man?” I gave him my best seductive grin as I kicked off my loafers and took off my jeans. He stared wide eyed at the massive bulge in my white boxer briefs as I slowly slid them down and off. As I pulled my underwear down, my fully hard tool sprang free and I saw his jaw drop as he gasped in amazement. “Jesus Christ, it’s huge,” he said, unable to tear his eyes away from my throbbing nine-inch manhood. “Can I touch it?” he asked. “Go for it,” I said. He reached out tentatively, as though he was afraid of it. I chuckled softly and said, “Don’t be scared kid. It’s not going to bite you.” He let out a giggle combined with a shy, foolish grin and wrapped his left hand around the hairy base of my cock. He moved his hand up and down my rigid shaft, feeling the length and girth. His right hand began fondling my balls, gently massaging them through my furry nut sack. “Damn man,” he said in an awestruck tone, “I’ve never met someone with such large, uh….” “Equipment?” I asked. “Yeah,” he replied while continuing to stroke and fondle my privates. He looked me in the face and said, “I’m serious man. I’ve never seen one this big before.” “You want to suck it?” I asked. “Fuck yeah,” he said in a throaty, lustful tone as he immediately dropped to his knees.

He stuck out his tongue and started lapping up the precum that was leaking like a hose from the head of my prick. When he had gotten it all, he smacked his lips in obvious satisfaction, then looked up at me with a smile and said, “Delicious man.” He wrapped his lips around my shaft and began to lick and suck with skill and enthusiasm. I watched as he took more of my dick into his mouth and down his throat but he only managed to get about two thirds of it before he began to gag and choke. I wasn’t disappointed though since I had yet to find a man who can deep throat my massive piece of meat. He pulled his mouth away, gasping and panting, with drool on his chin. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned his face upwards with an expression that was both apologetic and pleading. “I’m sorry man,” he said, “I tried to take it all, but it’s just too big.” “It’s okay kid,” I said while running my fingers gently through his hair, “you’re doing great.” “Really?” he asked as he stroked my spit-soaked prick with his right hand. “Really,” I said, “now get your mouth back on my dick.” “Yes sir,” he replied and then swallowed my cock again as far as he could, sucking and licking with a prowess I had never experienced with someone so young. My manhood was pulsing and throbbing with intense pleasure and I had to resist the urge to throat fuck him. “Damn kid,” I growled, “you’re making my dick feel so fucking good. Yeah that’s it, keep sucking, that’s a good boy.” He took his mouth off just long enough to look at me with pride and say, “You taste so fucking good man,” and then he devoured it yet again. His cocksucking was driving me to an insane level of ecstasy but what I really wanted was his ass.

I pulled myself from his mouth and motioned for him to get to his feet. “You ready to get fucked kid?” I asked with a growl in my voice. He nodded, looking both frightened and thrilled. “Just go easy on me at first,” he said, “it’s been a while and I’m really tight down there.” “Nice,” I said with an evil grin, “now where’s your lube?” He reached into his nightstand drawer, took out a bottle of Gun Oil and handed it to me. “Perfect,” I said, “now get on the bed.” “How do you want me man?” he asked. “On your hands and knees,” I said, “for now.” He did as he was told and I got in the bed as well, positioning myself behind him, gazing down at his gorgeous young ass. I saw that he was trembling so I leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. “Don’t worry kid,” I said as I kissed my way down his back, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” I gave him one last kiss at the place where his spine ended and his ass began then grabbed his cheeks and gently spread them apart so I could see his hole. Fuck, it was beautiful: tight, clean and a healthy shade of pink. I buried my face in his ass and started hungrily licking his anus, teasing it open with the tip of my tongue. I love rimming a fresh young ass and I’m damn good at it. I could hear him sighing with pleasure as I tongued his hole making it twitch and slowly relax. I stopped my slobbering briefly and asked, “Yeah, you like that, don’t you kid?” “Fuck yeah man,” he said in a throaty, intense tone, “that feels so damn good. I want that dick in my ass though man.” I gave his hole a final energetic tonguing and said, “You got it kid.”

I picked up the bottle of Gun Oil and squirted a generous amount on his hole while forcing it in with my fingers. I repeated the process, causing him to grunt slightly. “Yeah man,” he said, “that’s it, get me nice and wet.” I shoved more lube into him until his fuck hole was dripping with it. I greased up my rock-hard cock until it was as slick as I could get it. Pressing the head of my dick against his hole, I asked, “You ready kid?” “Yeah man, just go slow at first. I gotta get used to that monster cock of yours.” I smiled and started to push into him, gently at first but slowly increasing the pressure. I heard him softly muttering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” and then the head of my massive prick suddenly penetrated the flesh of his asshole and he cried out in surprise and pain as I began to slide the rest of my long, thick tool inside him. He was so fucking tight I thought I would swoon as I gradually pushed my way deeper into his ass. “How does that feel kid?” I asked. “Damn man,” he moaned, “I can’t believe that huge dick is in my ass. Yeah man, that’s it, nice and slow. Oh fuck yeah man, give it to me.” His tight hole held my cock in a wonderfully firm grip as I slid the rest of my length into his beautiful young ass. “You got it all kid,” I said, “I’m balls deep inside you now.” “Fuck yeah man,” he said, “do it. Fuck me, tear my ass up.” My lust was raging now as I growled passionately, “Yeah kid, you’re gonna get every fucking inch.” I pulled out until just the head of my dick was inside him, then violently slammed my entire length back in as hard as I could.

“God damn,” he hollered, “you’re gonna fucking split me man.” “Yeah boy,” I said, “your ass belongs to me now.” I began pumping his hole in slow intense strokes, letting him get used to the thickness of my cock. He was groaning continuously, from pleasure I hoped, but probably a little from pain. My dick was throbbing like mad as I fucked him like I would a lover; gentle at first but slowly increasing the intensity. “How’s that feel son?” I asked. “Oh man,” he said, “you got my hole spread open so fucking wide sir. I’ve never had a dick this big inside my ass before.” “You want more kid?” I asked. “Fuck yeah man,” he moaned, “it hurts a little, but you’re hittin’ it good.” I reached under him to feel his little prick and it was rock hard and dripping, proof that I was doing him right. I began thrusting even harder and his sighs grew louder. “Damn boy,” I said, “your sweet ass is making my cock feel so good. So nice and tight.” I looked down and saw that his hole had formed a perfect ring of flesh around my huge dick. The sight of my tool going in and out of his sexy butt was intoxicating. I always feel a sense of power when I’m fucking another man, to have them willingly submit to my cock invading their body. To know that I have control over them. I pounded him roughly for a few more minutes, then pulled out. “Move aside,” I said and he obeyed immediately. I laid down on my back, fully stretched out, my body covering the entire bed and my rock-hard pole pointing straight up. “Ride it son,” I ordered.

“Yes sir,” he said eagerly. He straddled my groin, taking my dick in his hand and guiding it to his hole. He carefully eased his butt down until the head of my cock was pressing against his boy cunt. He slowly pushed downward, but he was still tight and he winced a bit. “Come on kid,” I said, “you know you want it back inside you, now fucking take it.” He nodded, took a deep breath, applied more pressure and impaled himself on my cock, hissing slightly as the head penetrated him. “Yeah, that’s it boy,” I said, “take it all inside your hole.” He lowered his ass even further, taking every inch of my rigid tool inside him until his butt met my groin. “Fuck yeah son, you got it all,” I said, “now ride it, show me how badly you want it.” “Yes sir,” he said as started to bounce his ass up and down on my stiff pole, slowly at first, then gradually picking up speed. His asshole was so fucking tight that it made my dick throb like mad and I had to resist the temptation to thrust upwards into him. I wanted him to do the work for a while so I just lay there and enjoyed the erotic sensation of him working my shaft with his sweet boy pussy, up and down, over and over. His face wore an expression of ecstasy as he took it all up his ass, grinding his butt against my groin before riding it again. His hard dick bobbed up and down as it dripped precum on my abs. I reached for his pretty little cock, played with it, stroked it, getting a lot of his boy juice on my hand. He watched in fascination as I licked my hand clean, making sure I got every drop of that delicious fluid. “Yeah kid,” I said, “you love that cock up your ass, don’t you?” “God yes,” he moaned, “I love dick up my ass. I love getting fucked more than anything.” He worked his butt up and down my thick meat some more, then looked down at me and asked, “You gonna fill my hole with your cum sir?” “Fuck yeah boy,” I said, “I’m going to breed the hell out of your ass.”

I gave him an affectionate slap on his ass and said, “I want you on your back now son.” “Yes sir,” he said, as he lifted himself slowly off my cock. I moved off the bed so he could get himself positioned. He lay on his back, hooking his arms behind his knees and spreading himself open as wide as he could, exposing his succulent little hole. “Like this sir?” he asked, lust evident in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s right,” I said, “spread your legs like a slut.” I got back in the bed and began rubbing the head of my dick against his hole. “You want more of this kid?” I asked teasingly. “Yes sir, please sir,” he said in a tone that was pleading, almost begging. “Yeah, you’re a little slut, aren’t you boy?” I asked. “Yes sir,” he moaned, “I’m a little cock slut. Put it in me sir, please, rape my hole sir.” His words inflamed my lust for him even further and I brutally shoved my rock-hard shaft inside him, causing him to holler. “Oh god yes,” he practically screamed, “fuck me sir, pound me, make me your bitch. Damn, I love your dick inside me sir.” I began fucking him again with a fierceness that I hadn’t known I was capable of, ramming my massive tool in and out of his still tight boy hole as roughly as I could. He wrapped his legs around me, looking up at me with both lust and adoration. “Your ass is so fucking sweet boy,” I said as I pounded away like mad, “and so fucking tight.” I looked down at his beautiful little dick and saw that it was still rigid and dripping. “Work your cock son,” I ordered, “stroke it for me.” “Yes sir,” he replied and started pumping his lovely prick like a horny teenager. “Yeah, that’s it kid,” I said, “I want you to cum for me.” “Yes sir,” he said with a sigh, “anything for you sir.” I was fucking him like an unstoppable machine now, my huge dick reaming his hole like a jackhammer. He was so sexy and gorgeous; I wanted to fuck him forever.

He was jerking his dick like mad now and I could tell by the expression on his face that he was close to shooting his spunk. “Oh fuck sir,” he moaned, “I’m gonna cum. I can’t hold it anymore sir. Yeah fuck me hard while I cum. Fuck sir, I’m gonna shoot. I’m gonna fucking shoot. Oh fuck yeahhhh!” He looked down at his cock just as a huge load of his seed exploded outward and hit him directly in the face and right between his eyes. His fist kept pumping his young tool as more and more milky white cum splattered on his face, his chin, his chest and his belly. He must have shot at least ten times before he ran out of juice. The sight of it pushed me over the edge and I could feel my powerful orgasm rapidly approaching. “God damn, that’s a huge load kid,” I said, looking down at his wet, sticky torso. “You want my load in your hole son?” I asked as I continued to ferociously pound his ass. “Yeah man, give it to me,” he said with a fiery growl, “I want it all inside me sir.” “Yeah boy,” I growled, “here it comes. Here it fucking comes. Aw fuck yeahhhh, take it boy, take it all up your ass. Fucking take it. Fuck yeahhh!” and the pleasurable feeling in my dick reached an insane intensity as it throbbed like mad and fired a huge wad of hot, thick cum into his sweet young ass. I was thrusting in and out of him like a horny beast, snarling and roaring as I pumped load after load of semen deep inside his tight fuckhole, filling him up with my seed. I kept fucking him as hard as I could as more of my cum shot from my cock, making it pulse with a level of erotic intensity that I hadn’t felt in years. My feverish humping continued unabated until my balls were drained of jizz and I felt my manhood slowly go limp inside him as I forced out the last of my spunk then collapsed on top of him, drained of energy as well.

I reluctantly pulled out of his hole and rolled over so that I was lying next to him. I licked every last drop of cum from his face, then I pulled him close so that our naked bodies were entwined and I kissed him deeply and passionately, repeatedly, until I was out of breath and had to stop. “You were amazing kid,” I said, while gazing into his lovely face and beautiful eyes, “probably the best fuck I’ve ever had.” “Really man?” he asked, his face showing a small measure of pride. “Yeah really,” I said, “I haven’t cum that hard in ages. You completely emptied my balls son.” “Wow,” he said, “thank you sir.” “No,” I said, “thank you for letting me pound the hell out of that sweet ass of yours.” He grinned foolishly, then his face turned serious. “You said you were only in town for a few days right?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied, “three days to be precise.” “When do you leave?” he asked. “Wednesday,” I replied, “so two days from today.” “My parents won’t be back until Saturday,” he said, then asked in a shy, timid voice, “Will you fuck me again before you leave?” I gazed into his hypnotic green eyes, then gave him yet another deep, tongue thrashing kiss, pulling away just long enough to say, “All you want kid. All you want,” before kissing him again.

The End

As it was a pretty warm day I decided that a visit to a well known cruising area was on the cards.

I was really horny and a chance to get some cock seemed to be a good plan.

‘Seashore Park’ was a wide expansive wooded area that dipped down to a sandy beach. Bushes and trees hid a lot of sexual activity and nudity was the norm amongst the gays and bi guys who cruised the area.

I stripped off completely and carried my shorts and beach towel as I wandered amongst the wooded area.

I saw a few old men wandering around but nobody I fancied though on reflection I was an old man myself at sixty nine, my age a clue as to what I hoped to get that afternoon.

I was about to wander back to my car as I had not seen anybody half decent when I heard some anguished moans coming from behind a thicket of bushes

I ventured nearer and peered through a gap in the bushes where I saw two naked men. One, a guy of about seventy was on the back of a young lad of about twenty nine and he was fucking the lad really hard. My cock stood to attention as I watched the old man shagging the lad. The moans from the lad loud and pretty excruciating. I began to wank my cock as I watched, envious of the man sticking his cock in the handsome young man, both f them grunting and groaning now as the fucking increased it’s pace.

I was pretty close to shooting my load as I was so excited particularly when the lad was begging to be fucked harder as I thought I would have fucked him

as hard as humanely possible. The old man had the young man up on all fours, his hands holding the lad’s shoulders for good leverage. the young guy had his back arched and was pushing back on what looked like one fucking big cock.

I almost stumbled over as I was wanking furiously and I snapped a twig underfoot that made the young lad turn towards me. Our eyes met, but he didn’t say a word and just let the old guy carry on fucking him.

Eventually the old man also spotted me watching them and instead of shooing me away he beckoned me to go and join them.

Gingerly I stepped into the clearing where they were fucking. The old man pulled his cock from out of the young lad’s arse, it was fucking stiff as a board.

“Do you want to fuck him?” said the man to me “He can’t get enough fucking and he’s making me fucking tired”.

“Yes” said the young man “Somebody stick a cock up me for fucks sake!”.

I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth so I knelt behind the lad and stuffed my prick all the way up his hot arsehole. The burn on my cock felt terrific as the hole was pretty well lube free.

“Yes!” wailed the lad “Fuck me daddy”.

I pounded the lad with all my might, my seven inch prick driving deep, my balls slapping against the lad’s bum cheeks.

“More!” said the lad “Do it harder”.

I was fucking as hard as I could and decided on another position so turned the lad over onto his back and got his legs wrapped around my waist. My cock found his twitching arsehole with ease and I pushed up into his guts my cock throbbing with fuck lust.

I slammed my cock back and forth, watching the lad’s face and how it reacted to my thrusts.

“He’s loving that mate” said the old guy, who was watching and wanking. “Give him that big cock”.

The young man’s eyes were glazed and sleepy looking, his teeth biting his lip as I punched his arsehole with my randy cock.

“He’s fucking insatiable” said the old man “I can’t give him enough fucking”,

I was shafting the lad so rhythmically my cum filled balls tingling with the promise of a great spunking.

“Fuck me again uncle” said the lad and I realised that they were nephew and uncle.

I paused the fuck to let the old man have another go at fucking his nephew

I watched intently as the old man’s big cock stretched the lad’s arsehole wide and when he fucked this time his renewed energy had the lad almost screaming.

“See what I mean” said the old man “He just cant get enough, he’ll want your cock again in a minute”.

I was hoping he would as his arsehole was so lovely and hot and tight and it gave my cock a great squeezing.

“Can’t you both get you cocks in me?” said the young man whimpering between thrusts.

“We can fucking try” said the old man looking directly at me’ “Are you up for it?”

“Fuck yes!” I replied my own dick throbbing for the hot arse.

The old man was laying on top of the lad, his cock embedded up the lad’s arse. he turned onto his back taking the lad with him and keeping his cock stuck in.

Now the lad was laying on top of the old man’s chest and belly and his cock stuffed hole was ready for my prick.

I climbed on top and let my knob push against the packed fuck hole . The lad groaned heavily and I pushed some more.

My prick eased inch by inch up the lad stroking the old man’s dick as our two cocks filled the lad’s arse.

We began to fuck and the three of us were soon all moaning in ecstasy.

The young lad was squealing with delight as our two cocks invaded his hot arsehole. Both me and his uncle were groaning as we filled his are with cock, our balls touching as we fucked, our cocks rubbing against each other in sensual friction.

The lad’s uncle came fist and I felt his prick twitching against mine as he unloaded his balls inside his nephew. The throb of his dick against mine sent my cum rushing from balls too, the juicy orgasm spurting my spunk headlong into the lad’s cum dump of a hole.

Two creamy loads had our final thrusts squelching loudly and we had no idea that the lad was tossing out his own cum despite no handling of his cock.

The three of were spent and with both our dicks now out of the creamy hole we lay back panting, our nuts dry our cocks still pulsating.

“That was so good” said the lad , his arsehole seeping our cum.

It tuned out that Bill, the old guy, had been fucking his nephew Adam ever since the lad was of legal age .Adam, he told me, was a pretty insatiable twenty three year old who liked a like of cock, hence their regular journeys to the cruising areas around.

I told Bill that I too had a relationship with my own nephew Gary who was in fact visiting me from Scotland the following week.

“Could we all meet up for a session?” asked Bill.

“That could be arranged” I said ” My nephew Gary like Adam is a pretty hot piece of arse who likes a lot of cock and has been getting fucked since he first seduced me when he was twenty one.

“Sounds like we are the same” said Adam “Cock hungry and up for a good fucking”.

So it was arranged that Bill and his nephew would come around to my place the following week for some serious sex.

Gary me nephew was a tall striking looking lad with a mass of dark hair and a smile that sent me weak at the knees. He knew how to cock tease me and played hard to get for some time but eventually seduced me into a hot fuck.

“I know you want me uncle” he had said. ” Do you like my cock?”

He produced his seven inch horny pick to me and had me begging on my knees to suck it. Teased beyond belief with my cock straining stiff and throbbing like mad he teased me by showing me his hot twitching hole, pulling his cheeks wide to show off his tight rosebud.

“Fuck me uncle”. he said “You know you want to fuck me hard”.

I certainly did want to shag the lad, my balls twitching like hell my prick at a state of rigidness I’d not known before.

Delaying the fuck I gripped his bubble butt cheeks and pulled them apart then I stuck my tongue up his hot twitchy hole and rimmed the fuck out of him.

I had him squirming with fuck lust by the time I’d finished eating his arsehole, my tongue aching like crazy. Delaying the fuck even further I sucked the pre cum out of his big cock, gobbling his knob like a rabid dog and tugging at his cum filed balls until he was nearly sperming.

“Fuck me uncle!” he begged “I need your stiff cock in my arse”.

It was a request I could not ignore now and my cock was demanding a fuck and was dripping with my own pre cum.

His arsehole was so hot and inviting, my wet knob just slid inside, the heat overwhelming me as I pushed deeper up his arse.

“Yes! Uncle Oh! Yes! ” he cried, taking the full length of my eight inch prick.

His arsehole treated me with a sizzling cock burn as I fucked into him, my groan of pleasure loud and in tune with his own moan.

I fucked that lad with all my might, my cock opening up his lovely hot hole my cum filled bollocks smacking his bubble butt with every heat wrenching thrust.

I had him whimpering and wriggling his butt against my dick, fucking back onto my cock to get me ball deep every time. I had him on his side, on his back and on all fours, my hands reaching around to wank his prick and play havoc with his young balls. Having him cum in my hand was so good and I creamed his shaft and bollocks with his own cum frothing his spunk and draining the last drops of jizz from him as I continued to fuck him.

Coming inside him was a fucking treat. My balls just tightened up and there was no escape from the jet of spunk that spurted from my dick and shot deep into his arsehole. Still he wriggled his butt against my jerking prick, my butt slapping balls now aching and dry.

When Gary finally arrived from Scotland I greeted him at the railway station. We kissed each others cheeks and during the drive to my home I told him about Bill and Adam and his cock twitched at the thought of a sexual four way. So excited was he, he asked me to pull into a woodland lay by and fuck him.

I was helpless to refuse so we got into the back of my car and I yanked his jeans and pants off, unzipped my own trousers and pulled my stiff cock out. His arsehole was just as I remembered, hot and eager to fuck so I spit onto my hand and lubed my prick. His arsehole took my cock with little resistance and in moments we were fucking like rabbits. It was pretty damn exciting shagging him in the confines of my back seat but we managed to fuck good and hard and his moans and groans of ecstasy soon had me pumping a pretty thick load of spunk up his burning arsehole. I finished him off with my mouth, sucking his lovely stiff cock until he was spurting a week’s load of spunk down my throat.

Bill and Adam were going to call around that weekend but not before I’d had the chance to fuck my nephew in my bed and suck him off another four times.

On the day of the four way Bill’s eyes lit up when he saw my handsome nephew Gary so after brief introductions Bill said “Right! Who wants to be fucked?”

Our nephew in unison said “Me!” and the two lads quickly stripped off their clothes, both of them, once naked, tempting us by kneeling on the settee side by side with their hands holding their arse cheeks wide.

“Their fucking eager” I said “So we best give them what they want”.

Bill and I speedily undressed, or cocks already stiff and ready to fuck.

Adam was skinnier than Gary but nevertheless his bubble looked pretty inviting.

“I’ve been looking forward to this” said Bill and he immediately got behind my nephew Gary and began to lick heartily at his tight arsehole. I, in turn, got behind Adam replacing his hands with mine to stretch his bum cheeks before feasting on his tight sphincter with a very eager mouth and tongue.

We rimmed their holes good and then swapped nephews to continue a wet delicious rimming of their desirable arseholes.

Gay was moaning together with Adam as Bill and I feasted on their fuck eager holes.

“Time to get fucking” said Bill  his gnarled old cock rigidly standing with the help of a Viagra. I too used the drug to get a real lob of a cock and I knew by it’s angry stiffness that I could fuck for some time.

We swapped nephews again. I knew that Bill wanted to fuck my nephew Gary so I made way for him to get stuck in.

With both our nephews arseholes dripping with saliva it was no trouble for Bill to slide his cock up Gary’s waiting arse giving the lad a good reason to groan his head off.

I got behind Adam and pushed my knob in teasing the lad for the length of cock on it’s way. He moaned delightedly and with a hard push I gave him the full length to my balls.

Bill was already thrusting his old cock into Gary, his hands holding my nephew’s hips to steady each lunge of his cock. Gary was whimpering as Bill shafted him and I wanted to hear the same whimpers from Adam so I began to fuck the lad pretty hard.

Our nephews gladly opened up their holes for us and both Bill and I fucked their arses really good and hard.

Swapping from young hole to young hole was fucking amazing and our cocks were soon hot with fuck burn and ready to dump spunk.

Before we let our spunk fly we had the lad’s lay on their backs on the floor whilst we mounted them swinging their legs around our waists and fucking them.

They were moaning and groaning as we plunged our cocks deep again swapping from arsehole to arsehole. I wanted to suck some cock so at one point I lay on the floor with my head against the settee and had Adam’s stiff prick slip into my mouth for a suck whilst Bill fucked his nephew. his thrusts making Adams cock fuck my mouth and venture into my throat.

I hadn’t planned for Adam to cum in my mouth and down my gullet but that’s what happened and I greedily took all of his cum as his uncle Bill continued fucking him. My nephew Gary decided to sit on my dick as I was on the floor and his rise and fall on my cock had me spurting my load up his arse.

Cum seeped from Gary down my shaft and I began wanking Gary’s cock while playing with his young balls.

In moments Gary was spurting spunk into the air as I wanked him good. He sat down firmly on my prick and just let his cum fly where it wanted.

Bill sat on the floor next to me his cock standing stiff and needing a cum sloppy hole to slip into. Gary obliged immediately by climbing off of me and then sitting firmly down on Bill’s old cock with an audible squelch. Poor Bill had no chance holding back his spunk as Gary’s cum sloppy hole was a sensual silky harbour for his cock and was instantly milking the old man’s prick mercilessly.

With just a forty minute break the four of us were up and ready again for some suck and fuck action.

I was keen to stick my tongue up Adam’s arse and with Bill holding his nephews arse cheeks apart for me I rimmed the lad till my tongue ached. Gary, I noticed tempted Bill away and was soon sitting on the old boy’s face letting Bill’s tongue delve into his cum loaded arsehole.

We sucked on our nephew’s holes for a good twenty minutes. I gave Adam’s balls a good sucking too, taking both into my mouth and letting loads of my saliva drip from my lips. Bill was soon joining in, his mouth moulding itself around Adam’s prick as my nephew Gary launched an oral attack on my rigid cock.

“I like to be fucked too” said Bill “How about it Gary”

My nephew was up for it and was soon behind Bill and sticking his cock up the old guy’s hot arse.

Bill groaned as Gary shafted him and not to be left out, Adam and I took our positions to join in the fucking. Adam got in front of Bill and bent over taking Bill’s cock and guiding it to his arsehole. I got stuck up Gary once he had paused to let me in, Wee were all in a fuck chain now, me shagging my nephew Gary, Gary shagging Bill and Bill fucking his nephew Adam. The moans and groans were incredible as the four of us fucked like crazy.

Half way through we changed places and for the second time in my life I took a stiff cock up my arse.

It was Adam’s fuck hungry cock and it felt awesome.

I was then plugging my nephew’s hot hole and Bill was sliding his dick inside his nephews twitching arse as the lad fucked me.

Feeling the hot thrust of cock sliding over my prostate made me realise what I had been missing and I asked Gary and Bill to take turns fucking me.

I felt like a real old slut as each prick screwed me, Bill was quite a fuck master and had me whimpering whilst the lads fucked me with the gusto of youth.

The feel of young spunk spurting up my arse was incredible and my guts welcomed every drop of sperm. Bill surprised me with a heavy load adding his spunk to the two lads’ cum that swam inside me. My hole was squelching like crazy, my arse pulsating having had three big cocks shoved up it.

My final orgasm came with ease, all three of them sucking on my cock and balls like their lives depended on it. Seeing my spunk spurt and streak their three faces was so good and with all three tongues hanging out for a taste I made sure they all got a glob to suck on.

What a fucking fabulous day it turned out to be and I am now awaiting a repeat performance.

1.

It must be a joke, but if it is, Josef doesn’t see the punchline coming. He looks again at the help wanted ad: “July 22, 1968. Writer needed. Must write good. Fast turnaround.” The address matches the one on the squat brick building, but it doesn’t look like a publishing house. It’s not a business tower like he’d imagined. Just a tired three-story tenement with a seedy bar on the ground level.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have the luxury to refuse an opportunity. He’s been out of the military for a while now, and though there are jobs for a young man, it’s better to not be asked too many questions about his discharge. Unless he wants to wash dishes, it’s this or leave the city. And he doesn’t want to go back home.

He lets himself in the exterior door, which probably should lock but doesn’t. He goes upstairs. There’s noise from behind doors: kids screaming, adults yelling. And smells — of cooking and worse. It’s hard to imagine anything being published out of this squalor that he’d want his name on.

The door to Unit 3C is ajar, as are several others, not surprising, given the sweltering heat. 

Josef’s military haircut hasn’t grown out yet, and the white dress shirt he ironed that morning is crisp. His black pants are snug at his 28-inch waist. He straightens his posture, using every inch of his 6’2” frame to project confidence. 

He raps lightly on the door, enough to be heard, but holding it so it won’t swing open. He doesn’t want to be rude. Especially if this isn’t the place.

“Hello?” 

Peering inside he sees a barren room with a threadbare sofa, an oscillating fan that rustles large sheets of paper taped to the walls with every rotation. Somewhere further inside he can hear Martha and the Vandellas crooning Nowhere to Run. 

He enters quietly and steps up to the sheets on the wall. They’re covered in drawings, like comic book pages but larger. Rawer. They’re only just penciled in, black and white, but dynamic, bolder than anything he remembers from comics as a kid. There’s an energy in them that makes the figures feel as if they’re jumping off the page.

He can hear a gravelly voice from deeper inside the apartment. The inflections and pauses sound like a conversation, but there’s only one speaker. He follows the sound to the next room where he finds the back of a single man seated at a low stool, facing a drafting table covered in more of the same oversized sheets. 

He wears a white t-shirt that hangs loose off his boxy shoulders that taper sharply to his waist, where his pants are belted. His legs spread wide and hooking back beneath the stool. The soles of his shoes are worn.

He talks to himself, occasionally glancing in a full-length mirror and then penciling something onto the sheet on his table, and then does it again. During one of those glances, he catches Josef’s reflection and spins around on his stool. 

His face surprises Josef. He’s surprisingly young, given his build. Only a little older than Josef. Maybe 26 or 27. It’s hard to say. He’s square jawed with a short, blunt nose and boyish cheeks. His brown hair is darkened with sweat at the scalp, but the ends curl in the humid air.

“Hello,” Josef says again, taking a step closer.

“Oh hey,” the man responds, grinning wide.

2.

Josef introduces himself — as Joe — and asks if this is the right address for the writing job.

The man says yes. His name is Ben. Standing, he’s a head shorter than Joe but twice as broad, a blocky chest topping powerful shoulders and long arms. A regular tough guy, but for his disarming smile.

He’s a comic book illustrator. Freelance. He’s drawing this one but needs help with the scripting. He is, he says, not so good with words.

His art is different. The dynamic drawings Joe looked over are his, and it’s hard not to notice how much like their artist they are. Blocky, smiling with fists and jaws like cinder blocks, they crackle with energy. They’re so alive.

But the drawings Ben shows him for this job are more subdued. 

It’s a one-off story, Ben explains, for an issue of Strange Tales of Science, a catch-call for science fiction, the creepy, or — in this case — both. So it has to go from start to finish in just a few pages.

The title is The Man from Mars. It opens on an ordinary looking man in an ordinary US city. In the morning, he has a chance encounter with another man who asks if he knows him. No, not at all. But for the rest of his day — going to work, having lunch, taking his girlfriend out to dinner — he keeps seeing the other man, at a lunch counter, at a payphone. He’s being followed.

The reader doesn’t know why. Is one of them a commie? A spy? 

Our hero finally reaches the sanctuary of his home. There he removes his mask of normalcy, revealing green skin and big eyes. His secret is safe for one more day.

But there’s a twist. The reader can see his stalker returning to his own home where also peels off a mask, that he too is a Martian. The end.

Joe studies the partial drawings. “Why’s he following him?” 

“Not clear,” says Ben, looking slightly frustrated himself. “That’s why I need a writer.”

It’s a funny way to back into a story, but Joe’s too drawn in to complain.

“He’s looking for his own kind,” Joe suggests. “So he won’t feel so alone.”

Ben looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? I thought maybe the one committed a crime or something? And the other guy is the Mars police? 

Mmmmm. That’s only an external conflict.

“No,” Joe says softly. “It’s not about crime. It’s about survival.” His fingertips trace the pencil lines of the Martian’s face. “They’re in hiding because they have to be. They’d be in danger if they’re found out. They could be beaten. Or lynched. They have these perfect disguises so they can blend in, but that means they also can’t find each other. They might have subtle signs to try to signal each other, but if they make a wrong call, reveal themselves to the wrong person…” He lets the thought hang between them. “Our hero’s tragedy is that he’s so afraid of being found out by the enemy he runs from a potential friend.”

Ben considers this and nods. “What’re they doing on Earth?”

Joe shrugs. “There’s a… diaspora? They’re displaced persons.” DPs some say. A slur. There are always refugees.

“What are they running from?”

Joe turns to face Ben. “Something worse than loneliness.”

His stomach growls. 

“The job is mine,” Ben explains, “but I can’t write for shit. If you can do it I’ll split the pay.”

The project is due at the publisher by Friday, he says. It’s a rush job. But Joe doesn’t need to fill in the lettering. The letterer will do that. He only needs to write up a script that matches the art.

It’s not the great American novel Joe dreams of writing. But it beats starvation. Or going back home with his tail between his legs.

“Can do,” Joe says. 

3.

The men fall into an easy rhythm, working around each other.

Ben sits at his drafting table, bringing the story to life. Some pages he finishes in one sitting. Others — most, Joe observes — he returns to again and again, filling in panels as inspiration strikes. When he’s done, or done enough, he hangs the sheet on a wall. 

Joe goes from one sheet to another and is perplexed. “Are these pages in any kind of order?”

“In here.” Ben taps his temple, grinning.

Joe frowns. “Well they’re not in my head. Not yet.”

He tries to organize the sheets in sequence, leaving spaces for those not yet done. It monkeys with Ben’s process, but Joe needs to know the order to work out the story from start to finish.

“What’s this blank panel? What’s going on there?” he asks.

“The big kiss. The Man from Mars and his girlfriend.”

Ben taps his pencil fast and furrows his brow before turning away. Joe’s eyes follow the back of his neck and the tiny fine hairs on it. Fuck.

He turns back to the empty space on the page. The kiss scene. 

It was funny how many guys back in the barracks would put their slimy cock down his throat. Leave a load in his ass, or take his in theirs. Cross any line in isolated corners or in the showers at certain hours. But a kiss was a bridge too far. Except sometimes, in the briefest heady afterglow of cumming.

He didn’t mind the rest. He got off on most of it. But no kissing was hard.

Ben’s pencil tapping snaps Joe back to the present, and the job at hand.

The heat increases with every hour, dragging the humidity with it. Joe is still in his job-hunting clothes, and his shirt is wet in his pits and around his belt. He can see why Ben is in just a t-shirt. It’s a marvel he hasn’t ditched his pants yet.

“Hey, do you mind?” he asks Ben, signaling at his top. The artist shrugs.

Joe unbuttons white shirt and strips out of it. He’s wearing a white tank beneath. Unlike Ben’s loose t-shirt, it’s ribbed and clings to the planes of Joe’s long lean frame. His chest rises in twin swells of muscle, with a thatch of dark glossy hair that trails down to his firm abs and spreads on either side of his belly like an open book.

His dog tags clink and he drops them into his shirt.

Between jotting down notes on the story he spies how the artist uses his mirror to test poses, mimicking the action he’s drawing.

He hears his name out of Ben’s mouth. Barely more than a whisper.

Joe looks up. “Did you say something to me?”

“What? Oh.” Ben grins.”Just posing for the diner scene.”

He holds up a cup, looking at his own position and expression in his mirror. “Cuppa joe.”

“Oh,” Joe says, a slight blush rising to his cheeks.

Stacked near Ben are magazines with titles like Physique Pictorial and Muscular Development, featuring muscle men like Charles Atlas and Steve Reeves, frozen mid flex in their skimpy swimsuits.

“You like these?” Joe asks, feeling his underwear contort as he flips through them.

“For when I do superheroes,” Ben says. “Y’know, muscle guys.”

He gestures to a few finished comic books. Some are mystery and science fiction; others are romance and there are superheroes too. Men with square jaws and blocky shoulders, throwing massive punches. And a few voluptuous women. 

“They’re good,” Joe says. He chuckles. “They look kind of like you.”

“Damn, I’m trying to get away from that,” Ben groans. “Especially the women.” He throws a thick rubber eraser at the wall, where it bounces off and falls to the floor. “That’s what happens when you use yourself to model too much.”

“Maybe I can help you out with that sometime,” Joe chuckles. 

His stomach growls, loud enough to be heard.

Ben looks him over. “Let’s get some suds.”

4.

They visit the bar downstairs. Hank’s. It’s a dark respite in the heat of the day, and the cool air feels like a welcome slap against Joe’s dewy skin. He steals a glance at Ben. His shirt is already wet through his pits and back,

“Two,” Ben calls out, raising and two beers appear in mugs as sweaty as the two men. “Sandwich in a glass,” he says, tipping his to clink against Joe’s in a toast.

“Does this happen often?” Joe asks, throwing a handful of free peanuts into his mouth. “These rush jobs? Comics?” 

“Sometimes,” Ben shrugs. “Wouldn’t be such a rush if I didn’t wait so long to figure it out. But if we nail this one there’ll be more.”

“We,” Joe notes. Interesting choice of words. But he cares more about the bar’s peanuts, downing one bowl and reaching for another. 

“Hey, you want a burger?” Ben asks. Before Joe can answer he boom, “Hey! Couple of cheeseburgers here!”

“Oh — no,” Joe interjects. “I’m not hungry.”

Ben shrugs. “It’s on me.”

Joe yields. He thanks Ben, but calls out, “No cheese. Not on mine.”

He’s not kosher, but the old prohibition against dairy with meat is a habit now.

Ben studies him over his beer. “So what got you out of the army?”

“Got in trouble,” Joe says. “For fighting.” 

It’s true enough. There were fights. He won most and lost a few too. 

“I thought that was the point of being a soldier.”

“Yeah, well, not with your own side,” Joe answers. “What about you?” 

“Kinda fighting too,” the artist chuckles. “Bad knee. Boxing.” 

“You look like a boxer,” Joe says with a grin. Understatement of the year. 

He can see Ben in the ring, jaw jutting forward, fists raised with so much coiled power. He’d hate to be on the receiving side of a punch from those long arms, though the thought of it gives a rise in his underwear.

Joe doesn’t share that he was never overseas. In the screening aptitude tests he scored so high on math and writing they put him to work at a US base on communications. It’s not this guy’s business.

When the burgers come, it’s like a gift from heaven. Salty, fatty. HaMotzi, Joe says to himself, silently, HaMotzi. And as his hunger ebbs his eyes return to Ben, whose lips are shiny with burger grease. 

“When we were kids and me and my cousins would act up, rough housing and shit, my Bubbe used to say we were full of hops,” the artist shares. He talks with his mouth full, lips smacking and chewed burger in his cheeks. “I thought she meant, like, jumps, y’know? Then I figured out she meant like the hops to make beer. Like we were drunk.”

Joe takes this in. He never knew his own Bubbe.

“The old lady next door used to tell us kids not to hit each other, me and the neighbor kids,” Joe offers in return. “Don’t fight with your hands, fight with your mouths.” He chuckles. “She meant for us to debate. Reason things out. We ended up having the meanest mouths in the neighborhood.”

They both laugh.

Joe asks what’s next for Ben after Man from Mars as he wipes his plate clean with the last of his burger bun.

“I got this idea for one called Max Golem,” Ben says. “He fights Nazis.”

“It’s the sixties,” Joe replies, looking down into his empty mug. “There’s no more Nazis.”

“There’s always Nazis,” Ben answers, looking past Joe. “They just change uniforms.”

Joe looks over his shoulders and turns to Ben. “Are the Nazis here now?”

“You’re a laugh riot,” Ben responds, but with a friendly smirk. He downs his beer and wipes the froth on his thick forearm. “Hey, you want to go back up? I got something to show you.”

Oh yeah, Joe thinks. About damn time.

5.

“More comics?” Joe asks, flipping through illustrated sheets in various stages of completion. 

“My comics,” Ben answers, beaming.

“Who’s The Olympian?” The drawing is of a thickly built figure, like Ben, in a white t-shirt, with winged boots, a quiver of arrows slung across his chest and a shield on his back.

Ben shrugs. “He’s a guy — archeologist, athlete, I’m not sure — but he wrestled in the Olympics — and he’s picked by the Greek gods to be their champion. To do… stuff.  So he’s got their weapons.”

Joe studies the pages. “Like Hermes’ winged shoes… Athena’s shield? And what’s the bow and arrows? Apollo?”

“Eros,” Ben answers.

“Really? Cupid? Love arrows?” he chuckles.

Ben’s eyes meet his, confident and steady. “Love’s the most dangerous thing of all.”

He has a point.

Joe flips to the next page. A fight scene. “And this is the… Minotaur?” He holds up an image of the creature, filling the page in battle with the Olympian, a massively shouldered brute with a broad furry neck and horned head.

Ben nods. “I started a bunch but never got around to finishing them.”

He has whole superhero scenarios begun, of his own invention. There’s the Infinite Man, who wears a bodysuit and a medallion. He taps into an unearthly power source, but for only one hour at a time, Ben explains.

“Not very infinite, is he?” Joe asks.

Ben points to the medallion, with the letter I at its center, tracking his borrowed power like a gas gauge.

“So the reader gets a sense of urgency,” Joe says, nodding. “Smart.”

Ben grins.

Then there’s IQ Jones. He’s a younger hero with a close-cropped afro, in a mod outfit with blocky patterns, a kind of amped up version of the look some young guys are wearing now..

“Y’know how they say we only use 10% of our brain power? IQ Jones cracked the code to use 100%.” 

“So he’s super smart. But he knows how to use his strength too, right?” Joe asks. “And he’s maybe kind of a jokester. He could narrate his stories. And drops science facts like bombs.”

“IQ points!” they blurt simultaneously and laugh.

“This is great stuff. Fantastic,” Joe says. His own writing seems so ponderous beside Ben’s art. It leaps off the page, more than what he’s seen in The Man from Mars, usually fist first. They’re like those 3-D movies, the ones you need special glasses to see properly, but on a page. He’s never seen anything like it before. “So… all these ideas of yours. Who owns them? The characters?”

“The publisher,” Ben sighs. “I’m just work for hire.”

It doesn’t sit right with Joe that Ben should come up with all these ideas to enrich someone else. But he has no alternative to offer. And it’s late, and solutions seem as distant as the moon.

“It’s after midnight. I’d better get going.”

“Eh, you can crash here,” Ben offers.

Joe protests weakly that he can make it home, but exhaustion wins the long day.

He flops down onto Ben’s sofa, but the artist invites him to share his bed. “Don’t worry. No funny business,” he chuckles.

When they strip down to their underwear on either side of Ben’s bed, the artist catches sight of the dog tags hanging from Joe’s neck, resting in the dark thatch of hair in the center of his chest. Joe notices Ben’s focus and puts his hand over them. “Habit.”

“You see any action?” Ben asks.

Not the kind the artist means, Joe thinks. “Not much.”

It’s hard to not stare at Ben. A boxer’s build, broad shoulders tapering to a solid waist. Thick necked, a hint of a belly. 

“You still fight?” he asks, with a gulp.

“Not much,” Ben answers. “There’s a boxing gym a few blocks away I go to now and then.”

When he motions with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the boxing gym, his chest and biceps flex. Joe’s briefs torque around his growing erection. 

It’s going to be a tough night.

6.

Joe doesn’t sleep well generally. He ruminates often, thinking through plots and dialogue. Often, he drifts off to the phantom sounds of typewriter keys striking in the hazy space between waking and sleep.

But this is different. The unfamiliar bed creaks beneath him. Brick walls still radiate the day’s heat, a muggy blanket that refuses to lift. And Ben.

He watches the steady rise and fall of Ben’s chest. Downy brown hair catches the dim light, trailing across his broad chest and soft belly. Ben’s right hand rests on his white boxer shorts, just covering a promise of what lies beneath. His lips part slightly with each breath.

What a man.

If he was trade — like the other guys Joe usually encountered — he’d know exactly what to do. Test the waters. Grab. Hope for the best. Sometimes it led to a quick release, sometimes to a fist in the face. Joe had good instincts. Mostly.

Joe’s had his share of fights. Sometimes a guy calls you a queer, and you can’t let that stand, or you’ll never shed it. Sometimes the same guy would come sniffing around for a blow job later. “C’mon Joey.” He always gave in.

There was something about him that made him easy. Good-looking, but not too pretty. Fit, but slim. The kind of body that inspired certain desires, inspiring a longing to take him from behind, grasping at his chest as they humped a load into him like dogs in heat.Afterward, it was always the same. “I don’t remember anything after the beers.” Just guys being guys.

There was something about Joe that made it easy for the other guys. Good looking enough, but with prominent ears and a long nose, so quite pretty. Fit, but slim waisted, supple,  And afterwards, no complications. “I don’t remember a thing after the beers.” Just a guy’s guy.

But Ben is something different. More complicated. That boyish smile hides something deeper.

Joe smears his palm with spit and reaches into his briefs to take hold of his long dark cock. Jerking it quietly is a skill he picked up in the army barracks. Most nights it’s the only way he can get relief from the words in his head. 

He imagines taking Ben’s thick cock in his mouth. The weight of it. The heat. Pushing until his nose is buried in coarse brown curls. He imagines Ben’s composure melting, revealing raw, desire.

The hushed rhythm of his hand grows louder. Smack. Smack. Smack.

He’s not alone.

Ben’s boxers are pushed down. The artist is matching Joe’s rhythm, his own heavy hand working his cock with practiced ease.

Their eyes meet. A moment of recognition.

No words. Just synchronized motion.

Joe’s cock leaks precum, making his strokes slicker. He pulls at his balls, working the entire length. Ben does the same, his forearm flexing, tongue jutting slightly between full lips.

Ben’s cock is beautiful. Thick. Powerful. Like the man himself.

The sight of him working himself, his pleasure rising, pushes Joe over the edge. His chest heaves, his guts contract and his cock tenses. A jet of white arcs across his belly, landing in the dark trail of hair.

Ben follows shortly after. His big bull cock paints his own chest and belly in hot, urgent streaks of cum. A gasped grunt. Hips thrusting.

It’s all Joe can do to not reach out, to help him.

When they’re done, Ben picks up a discarded t-shirt, wipes himself clean, and passes it to Joe.

Joe runs the shirt through the inlets of his abs, mixing his with Ben’s. He wipes his cockhead with it. He wads it, and lets it fall to the floor.

“I’ll go,” he says softly.

He turns to get up, but Ben’s touch stops him. A knuckle against his arm.

The apartment air is heavier now than before. The brick walls radiate it the day’s heat as if they’re breathing it out. The fan’s lazy rotation does nothing but push around warm air, thick with the smell of sex and sweat.

Even so, an arm slides under Joe’s rib cage, drawing him close. Chest to back.

“Stay,” Ben murmurs, his breath hot against Joe’s shoulder.

7. 

When Ben wakes, Joe is already up. He’s in the work room, taking notes as he drinks a cup of coffee.

“Hope you don’t mind I made myself at home,” Joe says.

“Waking up to coffee?” Ben replies. “I could get used to this.”

“Had to shake off last night’s beer,” Joe adds, gesturing as if waving something away. “Don’t remember a thing after the bar.”

Ben catches himself before responding and just raises an eyebrow instead as he passes by, 

“I found bread, but no toaster,” Joe calls out, not looking up from his work. “Turned the oven broiler on.”

Ben’s eyes widen and he bolts to the kitchenette, nearly face-planting on the linoleum. He throws the oven door open and frantically pulls out a cigar box. Blowing on it he realizes the grill didn’t burn his hands. The box isn’t even hot at all.

“Very funny,” he says to Joe, who can barely contain his laughter.

“I looked,” Joe says. “Funny place to keep your valuables.”

Ben opens the box. There’s a watch, his high school ring, a few documents, and three wads of dollar bills of various denominations, held together by rubber bands. “Yeah, well. I’m the only one here usually and I don’t cook so much.”

“You make all that bank on comic books?” Joe asks.

“Mostly.” Ben pours himself a cup of coffee. “That’s my nest egg. If I can figure out how to publish my own comics then I can use it, so I can own the stuff I make.”

This is suddenly even more interesting to Joe. “That’s amazing. What’s stopping you?”

“You might not have noticed but I —” Ben pauses. “I’m not so good at organizing. Drawing’s easy.”

Joe nods. What Ben needs, he might say, is a partner. But he doesn’t want that mistaken for an overture. This is just a one-and-done job for him. Just enough to get by. He has his own writing to do, and it’s not comic books. He doesn’t need to put ideas in anyone’s head. 

Besides, they barely know each other.

“Well let’s get to work,” Ben says, turning to his drafting table.

With a little effort they fall back into the work pattern established the day before, Ben with his pencils, Joe studying the art and jotting down notes.

The radio plays in the background, music occasionally interrupted by a news bulletin. “…this week’s heat wave is historic,” the announcer says, “with temperatures expected to break all previous records. City officials warn residents to stay indoors during peak afternoon hours…”

The apartment is a sauna.

Joe’s worn clothes are limp, and his pants hang low on his slim hips. 

When Ben strips out of his t-shirt and resumes his work, Joe’s eyes roam the expanse of his back, the dip of it and where it meets his rounded ass, and the slight arc of his belly.

He’s risked so much in the past for guys who weren’t worth half of Ben. But something’s holding him back.

Still, he’d like to get on his knees and suck Ben’s fat cock. To hold that firm ass, grope at his chest and belly. To hold him the way the artist held him in bed last night. How he’d like to kiss him.

He’d wanted so many boys he couldn’t have it seemed he was always in a state of longing, he writes in his head. And longing is a cruel teacher, but a poor one. It left him mistaking simple friendship for something else.

It’s just deadline pressure, Joe tells himself. And it’s hot. And his back is bare. That’s all.

The radio plays José Feliciano’s Light My Fire and then the announcer declares, “It’s gonna be a hot one…” before Ben slams it off.

But by the afternoon the mercury is still rising.

8.

They work around each other, with Ben sometimes coming back to a page Joe thought finished, adding some detail, or asking Joe for a revision because of a new idea he has about a later page.

“I thought you were done here,” Joe says. Ben’s squeezed between him and the wall, close enough to brush against.

“It’s done when it’s done,” Ben replies, turning to face Joe, their noses nearly touching.

Why are you doing this to me, Joe wants to ask, adjusting his underwear to accommodate his erection.

This isn’t how he’s used to working. Start, stop, revise, repeat. He half wants to scold the artist, half to kiss the sweaty back of neck.

The most frustrating challenge is the kiss scene. It’s a simple date, a goodnight kiss and a hidden watcher, lurking in the shadows. It shouldn’t be this hard. But while Ben’s at ease drawing square jawed bruisers, he’s less certain drawing women. And though he knows fights inside out, he’s vexed by the angles of the kiss.

He sketches as Joe hovers and then furiously erases what he’s begun, again and again.

He curses under his breath and then looks up with an accusing gaze.

“Do we need the scene?” he asks.

“The kiss? Yeah.” Joe answers. It wasn’t his idea, but it’s important.

“Why?” Ben asks.

Joe replies, “We just do.”

Why are they arguing over a stupid comic book? He’s tempted to quit the whole thing. But his writing gears are turning. 

“Look,” he says, “The Man from Mars is living a lie even in his most intimate relationships. It adds a creepy factor. Some woman could… could marry one of them without even realizing it.” He pauses, not wanting to say it out loud. “It shows his desperation. Ben, it matters!”

Ben pushes his sweaty curls back with the palms of his hands, his nostrils flaring. “Fine. You’ll get the fakakta scene!”

He tries to start again, but he pushes so hard on the pencil that the tip snaps off.

“SON OF A-” he shouts.

He pulls the sheet off his drafting table as if he’s about to crumple it.

“Stop!” Joe gasps, reaching out to grasp at the sheet as it waves like a flag of surrender. There’s a lot of hours of work already there, and they’re running out of time.

“Get off!” Ben barks back.

Both grab at the sheet trying to wrest it from each other. Then comes the sound. The terrible, irreversible sound of paper tearing as the sheet splits, leaving each man with half a ruined page.

Oh fuck. 

“Look at what you did!” they each shout.

“Do you — do you know how LONG it took to draw that?” Ben rages.

“You’re the one who was gonna ruin it!” Joe answers.

Ben’s red faced and his white knuckled fists are like bricks. He looks like he could kill.

“We’ll make it right,” Joe says, though he doesn’t know how.

“We have a deadline,” Ben says between gritted teeth. “Or is that something else you ‘don’t remember’ after too many beers?”

Whoa. Where did that come from? “What are you —”

Joe’s crossed some line. He fucked up. It’s not the torn sheet, but what happened in bed last night. Shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have spent the night. Shouldn’t have gotten so close.

He shakes his head. “This was a mistake.” 

“You’re right about that,” Ben snaps.

And Joe is done.

He picks up the shirt folded over the sofa arm and walks toward the door. “I quit.”

As he exits the building, he hears Ben call out from a window, up above.

“HEY!” the artist shouts. “For services rendered! Good riddance!”

He throws a 20-dollar bill that, for all the strength with which it was hurled, flutters gently to the sidewalk at Joe’s feet.

9.

The so-called Den is the city’s worst neighborhood. Like every port city or any area where desperate immigrants are warehoused with lowlifes and other undesirables. It was nicknamed in ‘38, when Mayor Pasquale famously said, “This should have been an Eden for those seeking refuge. But it has become a den of poverty and vice.” 

Joe doesn’t care about the history but knows the area surrounding Ben’s flat is the kind of place where he ought to be able to buy some trouble at a good price.

He wanders until he sees a solid dark brick block of a building. It looks like a former warehouse space. Hanging by the door is a sign. The Triple Hit Boxing Gymnasium. 

The edifice is square and steadfast as a boxer’s jaw— No. Resolute. Square and resolute as a boxer’s jaw.

He’d imagined a bar. The kind where you might find guys with time to kill over a mid-day drink, loosening their inhibitions, open to bending the rules. But this might do as well or better for some rough trade.

The Den’s boxing gym is a cavernous space, more humid than the outdoors, despite the industrial skylights and slowly rotating ceiling fans. It reeks of years of fighting — sweat, old leather, spent adrenaline.

The guy at the counter says it’s a dime to train if you’re not a member. Joe almost laughs. paid more than that for a little trouble before, and with his mood today he’d have handed over the twenty for some relief.

Joe strips down to a ribbed tank top, letting his dog tags catch what little light filters through. They’re props now. Like his military cut. A soldier’s costume. Bait.

The gym’s tinny speakers crackle. Barbara Lynn’s You’ll Lose a Good Thing plays. A melancholy soundtrack to his performance. He moves like a panther between the punching bags, each step calculated. 

Sweat streams down his sides and the tank top is wet and clinging, outlining every muscle. His dress pants hang low on his hips, well below the bottom of his shirt, revealing the flat of his lower belly, the crevices of his Apollo’s belt. 

He knows how to give signals, somewhere between invitation and threat.

He thinks of the barracks, once word had spread. Rough hands, hushed demands. “C’mon Joey. Suck my dick.” And every time, he did. Sometimes with another guy taking him from behind. One tugged, he remembers, was almost tender in how he’d tug Joe’s ear to guide his hungry mouth.

It’s a young blond guy who approaches him. Better looking than Joe would have expected in a place like this. Tawny skinned like a lion, with compact muscles and golden hair. He has a chiseled jaw and a full bottom lip, like two cherries. Like the movie star Guy Madison, if the actor had ever had a dangerous bone in his body.

Use me, Joe thinks. Bend me over. Fuck me. Let them all take turns. I don’t care how you use me, just drive this all out of my head.

“You look like you know what you’re doing,” the blond says, eyeing the dog tags hanging between Joe’s sweaty pecs. He jerks his head toward the empty sparring rings. “Wanna go a round? Gloves off?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Joe says, that sideways smile he knows works. “Just gotta take a leak.”

The locker room is a landscape of steam and tile, the urinal trough a gleaming metal promise. Joe’s cock is half-hard, anticipation coiling tight in his gut.

The blond takes his place next to him at the piss trough, their shoulders almost touching.

He glances over his shoulders to see that they’re alone. 

He reaches out for the blond’s cock.

He doesn’t see the fist until it connects with his face.

10.

The door to Ben’s apartment is ajar again when Joe reaches it, as it was the first morning he was there, three days earlier. He raps on it gingerly and lets himself in.

Ben’s at his drafting table, tapping the pencil percussively. 

“Hey,” Joe says.

Ben turns and his jaw drops. “Oy gevalt,” he gasps. “What happened to you?

Joe raises a hand to the tender tulip-purple bruise that’s spread around his eye. “Took a fall,” he says. “I’m a klutz. It’s nothing.”

“Fell into a fist, looks like,” Ben says, inspecting the shiner. “I hope you got some licks in yourself.”

“I did okay,” Joe answers.

He flashes on the scene in the locker room. Covering his face and guts. But the blond was strong. And fast. And Joe was distracted. He remembered taking kicks to the belly and head while he was curled up on the floor. In the end it was his dog tags that saved him from worse. He held them up in a trembling hand. “I’m a soldier.” That was when the blond relented. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Ben doesn’t need to know any of that. 

“I’m sorry about the page,” he says to Ben’s back as the artist pulls off his t-shirt to fill with ice cubes. 

“Eh,” Ben says with a shrug. “Shit happens, right? I put in an all-nighter. I’m pretty caught up.”

He winds the t-shirt full of ice cubes tights and presses it to Joe’s face.

“Ow, ow, ow.” Joe winces. His cheekbone is where it smarts most. 

“Y’ll take what’s good for ya,” Ben scolds him, but his touch is tender. 

He’s been icing it himself. But it’s nicer when Ben does it.

“I did some work too,” Joe says. He gestures to two sheafs of typing paper he brought. Each is clipped, with a typed cover sheet. The top one reads, “The Man from Mars”. 

“I finished all the scripting. Or best I could do from memory.”

Ben hands off the icebag so he can flip through the pages. “This is the dialog and everything. Amazing.” 

He turns to the second and reads the cover. “What’s ‘Labyrinth?’”

“It’s for your Olympian. An origin story. It’s just a… just a treatment. Maybe it’ll help, when you get to it.”

“You did all that yesterday?” Ben asks.

Joe nods. He writes all the time. On paper is easier than the working and reworking of storylines in his head.

“It’s all your ideas. I just did a little… clean up. I thought I ought to give them back to you.”

“Thanks,” Ben replies. 

“Anything I can do to help with deadline?” Joe asks. “I’m not much of an artist, but —”

“Yeah,” Ben interjects. “Actually, you’re just in time. I need a model.”

He grins, and Joe wonders what he’s gotten himself into.

At Ben’s instruction they stand together between the mirror and the drafting table. He sets his radio nearby on his stool, Aretha Franklin singing Dr. Feelgood. 

“To set the mood,” he says, standing them face to face so he can see their positions in his mirror. 

“So, I’m posing as the girl?” Joe asks skeptically.

“Nah, you’re too tall,” Ben scoffs, pulling Joe’s hand to rest on his waist. “You’re the Man from Mars.”

Joe sighs at the close contact. 

“Now I put my arms through yours,” Ben says, bringing them close enough that their crotches meet. They both look in the mirror. “That looks good.”

“And what do I do?” Joe asks. His underwear is torquing and his heart racing.

“I figure a good-looking guy like you has done this plenty of times,” Ben chuckles. 

“You’d be surprised,” Joe replies. The bruise around his eye winces when he smiles.

“I gotta do everything here?” Ben asks, smiling. “You just turn your noggin… no, like this.”

He turns Joe’s head, gently nuzzling his ears.

“I…” Joe whispers, his tongue darting over his dry lips. “I…”

Their faces are so near they can feel each other’s hot breath.

They turn their heads together and their lips meet.

11.

They’re on the floor before they know it, tongues wrestling and teeth glancing. The air is thick with sweat and their scents as hands tear at each other’s clothes, sending Ben’s radio clattering from the stool. Aretha Franklin cuts out mid-note.

Ben’s strong, but Joe is wiry. He manages to get Ben on his back, straddling his waist. He suspects if the artist wasn’t willing, it’d be another story. Ben is eager, though, running his hands up Joe’s lean torso as his tank top peels off. He pushes under the dog tags, into the dark hair at the center of Joe’s chest, and then down his abs, grazing gently over the blooming bruises there.

“Must’ve been some fall.” His voice is a husky murmur.

“You shoulda seen the other guy,” Joe says with a smirk.

“I don’t want to think of you with some other guy right now,” Ben says in a hush..

Belts are pulled back and undone. Hips wriggle as they yank their pants and underwear down, freeing their erections.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to get you like this,” Joe murmurs, wrapping his hands around their cocks to hold them together. Ben’s is more girthy, Joe’s longer and straighter. A good match. And both circumcised. Sign of the Covenant. He smiles.

He drops down on Ben to kiss him again, grinding against the artist’s solid chest and sides. Ben’s mitts grab at his hips and his rear, clutching and caressing. Fuck, his arms are long.

Their cocks rub together, and Joe streams precum, slicking them up. Even before it can dry, Ben gushes his. Their erections together in their mixed precum is itself such a turn on they surge more of it.

Sliding his cock against Ben’s soft, furry belly feels so good, but kissing him is even better. Better still when Ben’s hands pry apart his ass cheeks, feeling for the soft pucker there. He moans his approval, and Ben’s thick digits push at his hole, gently prying into him.

“Oh fuck,” Joe gasps, grinding his hips harder into Ben, then pulling back onto Ben’s fingers,  coaxing and opening him. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Not yet,” Ben whispers back, his breath hot against Joe’s ear.

He flips them over easily, cushioning Joe’s landing with his own arm and rolls on top of him.

He takes his turn straddling Joe’s hips and leans forward to pin the writer’s wrists to the floor.

“You’ve been making me crazy since you walked into the place,” Ben rasps, face to face, their noses grazing, his sturdy legs on Joe’s, holding them down.

Their lips meet again. Ben grinds long and hard against Joe, kissing him more aggressively. His big cock glides easily down the inlets of Joe’s abs, the black seam of hair now slick with their sweat and their combined precum.

“That hurt?” he asks, wary of the bruised sides.

“Only when I laugh,” Joe jokes, grabbing at Ben’s meaty ass to pull him forward.

“Wise guy,” Ben hisses in Joe’s ear.

He drives his cock up and down the seam on Joe’s flat belly faster, humping him like a bull. Sweating, gasping, his back arcs. “Fuck yeah, buddy,” he grunts between wet, smacking kisses.

He picks up speed, and sweat drips from his brows and nose. Then, at once, he pushes hard. His cock shoots a jet of cum that arcs and falls on Joe’s belly, then a second that hits his chest, and finally a third back onto his belly, streaking down his cum gutters as Ben thrusts his hips to draw out the rest.

“Fuck,” Joe whispers, his cock begging for release, to match Ben’s. To not be left behind.

As Ben shifts, Joe’s hand grips at the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“I ain’t going nowhere,” Ben whispers back, lowering himself to get his mouth on Joe’s, their tongues catching each other’s.

Joe thrusts into the humid space where their bellies meet, his sensitive cock gliding in the sweat, precum and Ben’s load. His breath catches with each drive of his hips. Stiffening, he shoots his load as they kiss so hard it muffles his gasps and groans.

“There you go buddy,” Ben says in a hush between smacking kisses as Joe shudders, and the last of his cum surges out onto his belly and down his sides.

Ben rolls off of him. They lie together on the floor, staring at the ceiling, white as a blank canvas. Ben’s hand finds Joe’s, their fingers lacing together. With time, words tumble out, punctuated by bursts of laughter. Then exhaustion pulls them under, into the twilight space between wakefulness and dream.

Ben rolls off of him and they lie together on the floor, staring at the ceiling, white as a blank canvas. With time words tumble out, not many, but punctuated by bursts of laughter. Then exhaustion pulls them under, into the twilight space between wakefulness and dream. 

The only sounds left are their drowsy breaths and the whispering of sheets of paper against the walls, stirred by the rotations of the fan.

12. 

It’s late Friday afternoon when they drop off the art for the Man from Mars. The sheets are rolled snugly in a cardboard tube, and Joe’s script is in a manila envelope.

They run together like kids to the nearest bank like kids with a treasure map, eager to cash Ben’s check before weekend lockdown. 

He counts out nearly half the amount, handing half to Joe. “Some walking-around money,” he jokes. “Less the twenty I fronted you.”

“Fair enough,” Joe replies. The money feels good in his hand. “The rest going to your nest egg?”

Ben nods. “You wanna grab a beer? To celebrate? I like to celebrate hitting a deadline.”

It takes longer to walk back to Hank’s Bar, but it seems fitting, and neither minds having a little more time with the other. They’re stretching it out, while they can.

It’s dusk when they arrive and Ben takes a booth for two – a deuce, he calls it — and orders beers. 

As they tap their mugs in a toast, Ben says, “Shabbat Shalom.” 

Joe smiles. “Good Shabbos.”

“You’re a good writer,” Ben says. “Pleasure working with you. Mostly. Maybe we can — ”

Joe’s face says no. This isn’t what he wants to do. He’s got stories to tell. His own words to type into his own books. The kind without drawings or thought balloons. No cosmic medallions or Martians. And him and Ben? These things can’t last.

Ben wraps his hands around his beer and nods. “Well. Maybe in another life.”

When Joe’s done with his he thanks Ben. “For… everything.”

He exits the cool dark of Hank’s, emerging into the bright afternoon light and the hot damp blanket of summer air.

The storyline comes to him as he walks away.

While the summer of ‘68 swelters like a blast furnace, an ex-soldier with regrets finds a slim shot at a fresh start. He’s paired with an ex-boxer who traded his gloves for a pencil but never lost his punch, sketching masterpieces in a cramped apartment between overdue notices. Together they need to create a comic book in just five days. But as the deadline weighs and the city melts around them, the real story isn’t on the pages, but what’s unfolding between them.

It’s just the end that eludes him.

It takes five slow loops around the block before Joe returns to Hank’s. What good is a story with no Martians anyway?

His chest tightens as he sees their booth is empty, but he spots Ben at the bar, seated solo. 

He’d know that back anywhere, now, the broad shoulders and thick neck. The close-cropped curls. 

Joe takes the stool next to Ben’s. Hey.

“Did you know I’m… crazy about you?”

Ben smiles. He’s not so good with words. More of an action guy.

“So, Max Golem,” Joe says. “Is he made of clay? Or are we talking more of a robot situation? I have some ideas that’ll knock your sock off.”

Ben’s grin widens when he shouts out for two more beers. This might take a while.

END

⚠️TW: MENTIONS OF SA AND VIOLENCE⚠️

Ryan walked Eli back to his dorm, both of them thinking about Tyler’s cryptic comment. Neither of them said much, but somehow, the quiet meant more than anything.

When they reached the dorm steps, Eli turned to face him. The shadows on Ryan’s face made his expression harder to read—but his eyes were soft. He knew Ryan was worried.

“I’m okay,” Eli reassured him. “I promise.”

Ryan didn’t believe him. Not full. But he nodded anyways.

“Text me when you’re in bed,” Ryan said.

Eli smiled. “You say that like I’m not gonna lie in bed just thinking about you.”

He kissed Eli gently, just once. Then, he disappeared into the night.

The next morning came too fast. Eli didn’t sleep much. His body was still sore from the hammock, his brain wouldn’t shut the hell up about classes… Brittney… Tyler… Ryan.

Still, he got himself out of bed and left early, walking across campus toward his first lecture. The sun was just coming up… he didn’t want that 8am, but I guess you can’t win em all.

The lecture hall was already half full when he got there. He picked a spot near the back to avoid anything social possible. That was until around five minutes after class started when he heard the door slam open, followed by the sound of someone tripping over a chair.

“Shit—fuck—sorry—damn it—“ they whispered.

Eli looked up, praying whoever it was wouldn’t sit in the empty seat next to him.

A girl stumbled into the seat next to him, all tangled hair and wayyyy too many rings. She threw her phone on the table and Eli flinched as it echoed through the lecture hall. She dropped her binder on the floor and plopped into the chair with a sigh.

Everyone was looking at him. He was humiliated. In reality, they weren’t really looking at him, rather the crazy girl next to him, but he still couldn’t help but nestle himself deeper into Ryan’s hoodie.

“Hey!” She yelled, looking at Eli.

Eli uncovered his face with his hands, reveling a bright red face. “Uhhh- hi,” He whispered.

She continued, words going a million miles per hour. “Cool hoodie! Reminds me of this hoodie I got my cousin for Christmas a few years ago.” She yelled, voice echoing through the silent hall. “His name is R-“

“Sophia?”

“What? No.. well yes, my name is Sophia, but his name is Ry-“

“Ryan.” Eli said, snapping the pieces together.

She paused for a moment, confused.

“Uh, mmmm okay, creep,” She said “How the hell do you know me?”

“SHUT UP!” The professor yelled from the front of the room.

Sophia immediately stopped.

Well, kind of.

She continued, now in a whisper. “What’s your name? Church mouse? Ant?”

Eli smiled, almost laughed. “Eli.”

“Eli.” she repeated. “Love that. You got any idea what this class is even about?”

“Nope.”

“Cool. Guess we’re failing together.”

That was the beginning.

---

Sophia was in three of Eli’s classes. She brought snacks, took crazy ass notes, and had ZERO social filter. By Tuesday, they were sitting together for every class and texting between them.

They were complete polar opposites. Sophia was a human time lapse. A walking caffeine rush. That was the only way Eli could describe it. He was always quiet, focused, and on edge. But there was just something between them that just worked. She never pushed him, and always spoke for the two of them. But, she made space for him to speak—when he wanted.

That afternoon, Ryan saw the two of them outside of the library.

“No fucking way,” Ryan’s voice said from behind them.

Eli lit up. Something about Ryan always gave him some sort of rush, some boost of confidence that he could never find in himself.

They both turned.

Ryan looked at Eli. “Looks like you finally met my cousin,” he said as he ruffed Eli’s perfect fluffy hair.

Eli smiled smugly, “I know.” he said, short and sweet.

Sophia was completely lost. “What the hell? Ryan? How do you know him?”

Ryan chuckled. “Hmmm, Eli didn’t tell you?” he asked.

In a way, he was glad Eli didn’t tell Sophia. Just one more reason to trust him with his secrets.

“Tell me what? What the fuck is happening?”

Eli interjected. “Uhhh so you know how I told you I was ‘talking to’ that one hot guy?” he said, almost embarrassed.

“Yeah?”

Eli looked in Ryan’s direction.

“Oh…OH” She said, in realization.

“Yeah.” Ryan added.

“Ewwww- I mean- Awwwww,” She said. “Wait but what happened to Br-“

Ryan almost crashed out just hearing the beginning of her name.

“DON’T-“ Eli yelled, surprised his voice could reach that volume. “Uhh- say her name. Don’t say it. We don’t like her here.”

She immediately understood, no questions asked.

The next few days went by quick, no drama, no chaos. It was good for a change, there was no Brittney trying to fuck over Ryan, and no Tanner trying to intimidate Eli. It was calm… almost too calm.

But Friday was coming. Nothing would be the same after that.

Friday morning started off with one of those warm, slow sunrises where it felt like maybe—just maybe— everything was going to be okay.

Ryan had spent the night at Eli’s dorm for a change, holding Eli tightly against him while Tanner was off doing god knows what. It was so quiet, so comfortable that Eli barley even remembered falling asleep, but just that he woke up with Ryan’s arm heavy over his waist and his face tucked against the back of Eli’s neck.

They took their time getting up. There was no rush, classes were always later on Fridays.

“You coming over tonight?” Ryan asked, sliding his fingers through Eli’s hair.

“Don’t forget I live there now,” Eli said with a smirk. “Even if you didn’t know that. I do.”

Ryan ruffed his hair lovingly. “Good”

Later that day, once classes finally finished, Eli didn’t think much about going back to the dorm. He wasn’t even planning to stay more than a few minutes. Just needed to grab a charger, his toothbrush, maybe Ryan’s letter jacket that he said he missed seeing him in — the one that hung just a little to long on his sleeves and smelled like safety. It was just supposed to be a quick stop.

Supposed to.

The hallway felt normal, empty, and unassuming. He didn’t think to know. Why would he? It was his room after all.

He opened the door, and everything collapsed.

There was moaning. Laughter.

A mess of limbs twisted across his bed — Eli’s bed — tangled in blankets and sweat and half-removed clothing.

Tanner was shirtless, his back facing the door and muscles in his shoulders flexing as he hovered over someone. He was hooking up with someone — in his bed.

The person being covered up by Tanner got off his lap, off his dick, and turned her head lazily toward Eli.

Brittney smiled.

Not a startled smile. Not an embarrassed one. A smirk, like she had been waiting for this moment.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to come home,” she said heartlessly, trying so hard to be the villain.

Eli froze and the air disappeared from his lungs. His fingers locked around the strap of his backpack, and his body felt paralyzed.

Tanner glanced back over his shoulder, just once, his hands still on her tits. Then, he turned back toward Brittney like he was bored.

“Oh shit,” he said in a mocking tone. “Didn’t know you were on a schedule.”

Brittney let out a low, cruel laugh. “We were just keeping the bed warm for you, babe. Hope you don’t mind.”

Eli couldn’t speak. His throat felt like it closed.

Tanner sat up a little, grabbing a nearby water bottle like he was casually just at the gym. “Honestly? Kinda figured this was coming. I mean… you scream gay.” His voice dropped lower. “But she confirmed it.”

Eli’s stomach turned, it felt like someone had just punched him.

Brittney grinned, running a hand through her tangled ass hair. “You should’ve told him yourself. But you’re just so quiet”

Tanner leaned back on his palms, fully revealing the mess of nakedness that occupied his bed. “You made it too easy, dude. You thought you were subtle? Walking around in his hoodies, looking at him like that? You just wanted us to know.”

“You ever wonder what Ryan would think if he had saw this instead of you? If he knew who she came to after you?”

Brittney sat up fully now, exposing her entire naked body, then grabbed one of Eli’s pillows — his pillow — and rubbed it against her chest.

“If you’re such a fag, why are you looking, huh?” Tanner said, seeing how uncomfortable Eli was.

“Ryan was always mine,” she said with a sigh. “You’re just a distraction. A temporary obsession. He’ll come back. They always fucking do.”

Eli’s jaw clenched and his eyes were welling with tears. His entire body felt like it had been pulled inside out. He had never felt so uncomfortable in his life, seeing such a messy scene like that, just in his bed.

Brittney wasn’t looking good, either. Her hair was all over the place, stringy and messed up. Her makeup was smeared all over her face. She was sweating profusely. She looked like a fucking crack addict.

Tanner chuckled. “Door’s always open if you wanna join in. Or just, you know, watch. That’s all you fucking fags do anyways, because you can’t have real sex.” He said, turning back to Brittney and grabbing her again.

That was it. He finally found the strength to leave.

He turned, grabbed the doorknob, and walked out — fast. He didn’t slam the door, didn’t say a word, didn’t look back. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he even closed the door. He was too dizzy, too hollow, too sick to even breathe.

The hallway stretched out forever. His vision blurred. His hands were shaking so bad he could barely open his phone.

Across campus, Ryan was just finishing cleaning the kitchen when he got the texts.

can i come overr now

ur dor is unlocked, right?

pls say ur homee

His stomach dropped. Eli had never misspelled a word in his life. He was smart. This wasn’t normal.

He hadn’t seen Eli all afternoon, just a few flirty messages and a plan for him to sleep over. That was it. Everything had been fine. Light. Normal.

He wiped his hands with his kitchen towel fast, replying immediately.

Always. Door’s open.

Then he waited. On the edge of the couch, staring at the door.

Two minutes later, Eli stepped inside, and Ryan’s heart cracked just from the look in his eyes.

His face was pale, his breath was short. His hands wouldn’t stop twitching. And the second he saw Ryan standing there, shirtless in his tight gray sweats, he walked forward like gravity was pulling him in and just collapsed.

Ryan caught him without hesitation, wrapping both arms around his body and holding tight.

Eli didn’t cry. He just stood there, clinging to Ryan, shaking like a bag stuck on a branch in a goddamn hurricane.

“Hey, hey,” Ryan whispered, rocking slightly. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He pulled Eli inside, kicking the door shut and locking it — not knowing whatever was out there. He just held him for a while, letting Eli bury his face into his shoulder.

Eventually, Eli’s voice came out—quiet—not normal for when he was speaking around Ryan. It reminded him almost of the first day they met, when Eli could barely even speak.

“She was there.”

Ryan froze. “Who?”

“Brittney. She was in my room. With Tanner, in my bed.”

Ryan pulled back enough to look at him. “What?”

“They knew I’d come back,” Eli said, with a shaky voice. “They wanted me to walk in. They said it. She told him I was gay. Tanner said ‘I scream it’. She—“ his voice cracked, thinking back to the image of Brittney.

“I had to get out.”

Ryan’s jaw was clenched, eyes dark.

“You’re staying here tonight,” he said firmly. “And tomorrow. And the next night. And however long you want. I’ll go get whatever you need.”

Eli nodded, throat too tight to speak.

Ryan stepped back only enough to cup Eli’s face in his hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then one to the tip of his nose.

“You’re safe here,” he whispered. “They don’t get to do that to you. Not ever again.”

Eli looked up at him.

“Can I just… stay close tonight?”

Ryan nodded once. “You don’t even have to ask.”

He took Eli’s hand, holding it tightly. He led them to his bedroom and shut the door behind them.

Unexpectedly, Eli started grabbing at Ryan’s dick, unsure of his plan. Eli honestly didn’t know what he was doing—maybe he just wanted to feel as close to Ryan as possible.

Ryan grabbed Eli’s hand. “Hey, hey,” He said, trying to ground him. “Just… wait.”

As much as Ryan was expecting things to happen that night, as much as he wanted them to happen, he knew that wasn’t what Eli needed in that moment.

That’s when Eli broke down. It was that feeling when someone asks, ‘what’s wrong?’, and your whole world shatters.

Eli cried and cried, nestling himself into Ryan’s chest.

Ryan just cradled his head and laid back with Eli.“Shhhh, I know..” Ryan assured him, on the edge of tears himself.

They lay there in silence for an hour, just listening to each other breathe. Eli’s hands stopped trembling first. Then his heartbeat slowed. Then his shoulders unclenched.

Ryan never stopped touching him — brushing his fingers gently up and down Eli’s side, tracing soft lines over the fabric of his shirt. Eventually, Eli finally completely relaxed.

He rolled onto his back, eyes still red but softer now.

“I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Ryan looked down at him. “Don’t be. You didn’t freak out. You… I don’t know… Survived?”

Eli gave a small, broken laugh. “Not sure that’s what it felt like.”

“No, no, seriously, they could write an ‘I Survived’ book about you,” Ryan exhaled as he leaned down and kissed his temple. “Still proud of you.”

Eli reached up and hooked two fingers around the chain that sat on Ryan’s neck. “How do you always say the right thing?”

Ryan smirked. “I don’t. I just say what you deserve to hear.”

Their eyes met, and Eli’s hand slid down Ryan’s chest without thinking, resting his palm over his heartbeat.

Ryan leaned in and kissed him again, slowly this time. Eli kissed back. Ryan’s hand moved down Eli’s shoulder, then down his back, tugging him a little closer. And just like that, the room shifted. Eli didn’t feel broken anymore, but he just felt held. Wanted. Warm.

Ryan’s other hand reached over to cradle his cheek as he slowly but surely laid himself on top of Eli.

Everything was quiet now, everything felt right.

They deeply kissed as Eli did that thing he knew made Ryan crazy — he just lightly moaned into Ryan’s mouth, causing his dick to respond immediately. Part of his moans were intentional, but Eli couldn’t help it when he could just feel Ryan’s cock grow against his, feeling as if it were physically pushing him down into the mattress.

Eli couldn’t help but start to squirm, grinding their cocks together. Ryan smiled as he began to slip Eli’s shirt off.

As Ryan’s kiss traveled from Eli’s mouth, down his chin, through his neck, over that smooth, skinny chest, he finally reached his pants, where he began to tug down.

Eli was confused- but intrigued. Wasn’t that his job? 

He got Eli’s underwear down, revealing his fully hard 6 inch, cut dick. “This okay?” Ryan asked, looking up at Eli.

Eli nodded quickly. “Mhhhmm”

Ryan had never sucked a dick before, all he’s ever known was what it’s like to get his own dick sucked. But, in his experience, Eli had been a much better cocksucker than any girl he’d ever hooked up with years ago, so he wanted to pass that on.

He slowly licked up Eli’s shaft, circling the head with his tongue. Eli had just a slight, barely noticeable jump every time Ryan’s tongue would hit that underside of his tip, also causing him to almost push Ryan’s head away. He just felt the need to…touch his head.

Then, slowly but surely, he began to take it in his mouth. It tasted different than he thought it would- but the stench of it wasn’t near as strong as how Ryan’s smelled to Eli.

Eli moaned as Ryan began to travel down his length. While it wasn’t much compared to Ryan, he still had about a good 6 inch when he was fully hard. It also wasn’t nearly as girthy as Ryan’s, so it was somewhat easy for Ryan to get down.

As Ryan’s warm, wet mouth slid further and further down, Eli began to squirm and bit his lip to try and avoid making too much noise. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before- but he wasn’t sure if he liked it or disliked it… not yet at least.

He lightly cursed under his breath as Ryan easily got his entire length down. Eli still didn’t know what to do with his hands or even the rest of his body for that matter — it felt too weird to sit still. He found his hands lightly grabbing Ryan’s hair, which calmed him enough to ground his body slightly more.

Ryan looked up to see Eli already looking down at him, and he smiled as he wrapped his lips around and began to bob up and down. He reached up and grabbed Eli’s hands, holding them tight while gave him his first blowjob.

While it did feel so good to Eli, they both couldn’t help but feel like there was something almost unnatural about it. It was obvious that Eli’d rather be sucking Ryan off, and Ryan would rather get sucked off. Regardless, Ryan kept going. He had another plan.

Eli just felt as his dick kept sliding up and back down Ryan’s wet lips, and feeling his tip hit the back of his throat every time he’d bring his head back down. He finally closed his eyes and tilted his head back, relaxing. Now, Eli saw the reason why Ryan would look so relaxed everytime he had his dick in his mouth.

After a couple minutes, Eli’s moans began to intensify and become more and more frequent as he approached his climax. Then, right as he was about to cum, Ryan stopped.

Not again, Eli thought.

Ryan moved back up Eli’s body and kissed him on the lips again. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?” He said with a devilish smile. “Come here,”

Ryan stood up at the side of the bed, and dragged Eli to him. Now, Eli was laying on his stomach on the bed, once again face to face with Ryan’s massive dick. He looked up at Ryan and smiled as Ryan tilted his chin up at him.

Eli opened his mouth while he watched Ryan position the tip of his cock at his lips.

Ryan began to slide his dick back into Eli’s mouth. “Good boyyyy,” Ryan whispered, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s ittt Eli.”

As Eli’s mouth began to fill up with Ryan’s dick, he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of it slowly travel past his lips, slide down his tongue, and hit the back of his throat. This felt right, Eli thought. Surprisingly, there weren’t any gags yet, even as Ryan hit the back of Eli’s throat.

Before going any further, Ryan grabbed a clump of Eli’s hair and supported his head up by holding the underside of his chin in place with his other hand. Then, he started to slowly thrust his hips and out, letting Eli’s throat adjust.

After a moment, Ryan stopped. “You ready?” he asked, looking down at Eli with his dick in his mouth.

Eli had never been more ready for something in his entire life. He nodded quickly and relaxed his throat.

With that, Ryan held Eli’s head even firmer and thrusted the entire thing down Eli’s throat. He gagged as his nose got nestled back into Ryan’s dark bush.

Ryan lifted on his toes and hugged Eli’s head against his body. “Mmmmm yeah,” He exhaled, shutting his eyes and smiling. “Take that dick.”

Eli was getting much better at taking the entire length. He had also learned to control his breathing through his nose, which allowed him to relax more, even with Ryan’s entire length plugging his throat.

After a couple more seconds, Ryan began to slowly move out, then all the way back in. He loved the feeling of that boy’s throat. Eli wrapped his lips around his man’s cock, which made Ryan begin to grunt every time he’d slam it all the way back down.

Even a couple minutes later, Ryan barely picked up any pace, and just enjoyed the slow thrusts as he got harder and harder. Then, he finally pulled completely out of Eli’s mouth and let go of his head, which caused Eli to collapse without the support of Ryan’s strong arms holding him up.

Ryan lightly kissed Eli’s forehead as he laid his head back against the pillow. “You good?” He asked, chuckling.

Eli grinned. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he whispered, hungrily placing his lips against Ryan’s again.

Ryan had never seen Eli this horny before, not even Eli saw himself this horny before. It gave both of them a type of happiness they were only able to feel around each other. As they kept kissing, Ryan slowly pinned Eli’s hands above his head and started to grind his cock between Eli’s ass cheeks. It easily slid up and down from being covered in spit.

It was so slow. So passionate. 

Ryan lifted from the kiss for a moment. “I’ll only put it in if you want me to,” He whispered into Eli’s mouth before going right back in.

“Please,” Eli moaned, nodding.

Ryan opened his eyes. “You sure?” he asked. “I don’t want to push anything if you aren’t ready.”

Feeling comfortable under Ryan’s body weight, he smiled. “Fuck me, Ryan.” Eli kissed Ryan again. “Fuck me.”

Ryan nodded, reaching to his nightstand drawer to grab a conveniently placed bottle of lube. Usually, he’d just use it to jerk himself off — but he finally found a new use. He didn’t think the next time he’d pump some onto his finger would be when he’s about to fuck someone — fuck Eli — but he couldn’t have been happier to pump some on his finger.

He reached under Eli and placed his finger at Eli’s entrance, and Eli quickly tightened.

Ryan placed a hand behind Eli’s head, holding him tighter. “Just relax,” he said calmingly. “I won’t hurt you. I’ve got you.”

Eli gave a nod and relaxed as best he could. Ryan slipped the tip of his finger in and Eli gasped. It took everything out of him not to clench again, so he just shut his eyes and relaxed as best as he could.

Ryan slid his finger deeper and deeper, feeling as Eli’s little heartbeat quickened.

Ryan chuckled. “Your little heart is beating so fast.”

“Sorry, I-“

“No need to be sorry,” Ryan said, leaning down to kiss him. “It’s okay.”

Eli realized that Ryan was right, and that he truly didn’t have anything to be nervous about. He knew that Ryan would stop immediately if anything ever made him uncomfortable. But he was determined.

Before he knew it, Ryan’s whole finger was in his ass. Then he began to slip another finger in. Then another. He distracted Eli by kissing his neck as deeply as he possibly could, and Eli was just moaning. He couldn’t stop moaning.

Ryan stopped kissing. “Guess what?” He said with a smile. “I got three fingers all the way in.”

Eli couldn’t believe it—how did he not even realize? The only thing he could respond with was a smile before Ryan took his fingers out and easily flipped Eli onto his stomach.

He grabbed his bottle of lube and pumped it onto Eli’s ass and his dick, tossing it aside and laying back down on top of him.

He got close to Eli’s face. “You ready?” He whispered into his ear.

“Mmhmm,” Eli replied eagerly.

With that, Ryan placed his dick at Eli’s hole and pushed the tip inside, causing Eli shut his eyes tight and grit his teeth.

Ryan said “Just relax, just relax.”  Then, got close to Eli’s ear and whispered, “Trust me.”

“I trust you” Eli responded.

Ryan pushed his cock in more and more, and it easily slid in. Eli’s jaw opened wide as he took Ryan’s length. He wrapped one arm around Eli’s neck and the other under his waist and cursed as Eli’s tight ass hugged his cock.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Ryan whispered as he pushed more and more in.

Eli reached up and grabbed Ryan’s arm that was wrapped around his neck and held it tight as he took more cock in. But feeling Ryan’s entire body weight on top of him gave him the comfort to keep pushing through.

Ryan went down and kissed Eli, but it wasn’t reciprocated as Eli was distracted with the sensation of a massive dick slowly penetrating him.

“Kiss your man, Eli” Ryan said, looking deeply into his eyes. “Kiss me.”

Eli kissed back and let Ryan’s tongue in and his eyes began to well with tears of pleasure as he felt his tongue destroying his mouth.

Ryan paused and slightly pulled away. “Hey Eli, guess what,”

“Fuck- oh my- wha-“ Eli said, barely able to think.

“I’m halfway inside you right now.” Ryan said smugly. “You didn’t even realize it.”

Eli’s eyes widened as he realized Ryan was right. There wasn’t really too much pain, in fact, there was none at all. But just the image of Ryan’s dick made him freak out.

“Wait- but- I don’t know if I can-“ Eli said in a worried tone.

Ryan smiled. “Yes you can.” He responded, going in for another kiss.

Then, in an instant, Ryan thrusted almost the entire rest of his length in at once. Eli almost screamed as he whimpered.

Ryan had never felt more pleasure in his life. Feeling Eli squirm under his body, hearing him—no—feeling him whimper in response to his dick was the best thing he’d ever experienced.

Now Ryan could start being dominant. He finally established himself as the dominant one and Eli proved himself to be the submissive one. Almost as if they were the same person, they both realized that at the same time and Eli’s entire body filled with goosebumps.

It was a slow process, but eventually, Ryan got his entire dick in Eli’s ass.

He was speechless. The feeling of having a dick that big filling his entire ass was unlike anything Eli had ever felt in his life. Ryan deeply moaned as he held Eli tight against himself and wiggled around, allowing him to adjust.

As the pain subsided, Eli began to curse from the feeling of Ryan’s pubes brush against his ass cheeks and his dick touched every spot inside his ass.

Ryan began to pull out. “Mmmmmmm, yeah” He whispered, slowly feeling it pull against his cock.

“No! Please— Ryan— it felt so goo-“ Eli said, then his eyes widened as Ryan slammed all the way back in.

He jumped, unable to make any noise. Ryan took his time thrusting in and out, enjoying every second.

“Fuccckkk, Eli.” Ryan said, grabbing Eli’s hair and kissing the side of his neck. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Eli started to whimper under Ryan’s body weight as his thrusts picked up. Hearing that made Ryan crazy, and he pushed Eli’s face sideways into the bed and covered his mouth as he just fucked him.

Then, Ryan found that spot inside of him. Eli moaned and whimpered feeling Ryan’s cock hit him in a place he didn’t even know existed.

“Ohhh yeah,” Ryan said, looking down at him and bringing his arms up and around the back of his head, exposing his arm pits to the cool air. “Theeerrre it is.”

Eli grabbed the sheets as his toes crinkled. Every time the tip of Ryan’s cock  just tapped—even slightly brushed that spot—he almost came. It was like better than the climax of any orgasm he’s ever had—but just over and over again.

Ryan’s thrusts got faster and faster and the both of them got closer and closer to cumming. Ryan realized this, and with a few extra thrusts, he reluctantly completely pulled out. He crawled off Eli and stood up, leaving him laying there trying to process what happened to him.

“Wait- Ryan-“ Eli said desperately. “Keep going-“ He had never felt more empty- never felt colder in his life.

Ryan chuckled to himself. “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.” He assured Eli as he grabbed Eli’s calves and pulled him to the edge of the bed.

He grabbed Eli’s legs and lifted them up, and watched as Eli’s flexible body completely folded back, exposing his ass to Ryan. To Ryan’s surprise, Eli was somehow almost completely able to lift his feet back behind his head.

“Fuck me-“ Eli said with a desperate look.

Ryan lined his cock up with the entrance again, and pushed it all in at once.

Eli’s voice completely cracked. “OH GOD-“

Ryan grunted and wrapped his biceps around Eli’s ears, cradling his head. Hearing Eli’s cute voice crack like that as his dick entered all at once pleased him like nothing else. No one else could make him feel like this.

Ryan’s thrusts picked up rapidly. “Please- Sir- Please- Please- oh my- please-“ Eli begged.

Ryan placed two fingers deep in his mouth. “Please what? Huh? You like that?” he said with a devious, satisfied smile. “Fuckk, you’re all mine.”

Eli tilted his head up and kissed Ryan. Ryan hungrily reciprocated and started grunting into Eli’s desperate mouth.

“No one else gets this.” Ryan whispered, out of breath. “You hear me? This ass is for me.”

Eli was in heaven. “Yes sir- fuck- I’m gonna-“

“You’re gonna what? Huh? Cum for me, Eli-“ Ryan said, stroking Eli’s hair.

Every time Ryan would say his name, Eli couldn’t take it anymore. Once Ryan’s cock hit that one spot for one final time, he came harder than he ever has. It sprayed up and landed on his chest and stomach.

“Good fucking boy-“ Ryan whispered into his ear. “That’s my Eli.”

Ryan still wasn’t done. He was so close.

“You want my load?” Ryan asked, desperate to cum.

“Mmmhmm-“ Eli barely managed to get out, still trying to recover from his own climax.

Ryan’s thrusts were completely full speed, and he had no intention of stopping. Ryan’s jaw was completely open, and he was covering Eli’s mouth, pushing him into the mattress as hard as he could.

“Holy fucking shit- I’m gonna- Oh my- here it comes!”

Ryan shot load after load, directly into Eli’s ass, giving one extra big thrust every time. Eli gasped feeling the warm liquid start filling his ass.

Finally, as both the boys began to calm after their climax, Ryan pulled out. He flopped on the bed aside Eli, bringing his arms up above his head. Neither of them could speak yet.

After a few minutes, Ryan finally managed to form a word. “Thank you,”

Eli rolled over and laid his head on Ryan’s chest. “That was- amazing.”

His ass hurt- it felt empty, cold- but he didn’t care. As for Ryan, his cock just slowly started to soften, and he just enjoyed the small weight of Eli’s head laying across his chest. He couldn’t believe he just had sex again after years and years — he had anal sex with a boy. It was better than heaven.

They got up and just put their underwear back on, and lay back in the bed, Ryan spread out and Eli laying between his legs. Ryan stroked Eli’s hair and neither of them cared about anything but each other in that moment. They didn’t care about the mess they had to clean, they didn’t care about school, they completely forgot about everything. Tanner, Tyler, Brittney.

No one mattered but them.

---

The next morning, they got dressed and finally left Ryan’s room for the first time in the hours since Eli lost his virginity. His ass was stinging, searing in pain—but it was a good hurt. He wasn’t going to tell Ryan because he thought Ryan would’ve been under the impression that he hurt him. So, he tried pushing through the pain.

Ryan went in the kitchen to start making some breakfast and watched as Eli sensitively sat on the couch, gritting his teeth.

Ryan laughed. “Don’t worry, the couch doesn’t bite,”

“No, I know I’m just-“

He chuckled again. “I know, you don’t need to hide it. Get used to it.” Ryan said, grabbing a pan and setting it on the stove.

Eli realized Ryan thought it was funny. Seriously? I was worried for that? 

“Shut the hell up. Maybe you should try taking a giant dick up the as-“

All the sudden, the front door slammed open so hard it rattled against the wall.

“MISS ME BITCHES?”

Eli jumped so hard he nearly rolled off the couch.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, tan, backwards-hat-wearing guy with a travel bag slung over one shoulder, sunglasses still on, and the energy of someone who definitely got flagged at airport security.

“Traffic was hell,” The guy said, stepping in like he owned the place.

He dumped his bag in the middle of the living room and stretched like he hadn’t moved in ten years.

Ryan looked at Eli and jerked his head casually. “Eli, this is Alex.”then, he looked at Alex. “Alex, this is Eli, my boyfriend.”

Eli froze.

That word hit harder than the door slamming into the wall when Alex walked in.

Boyfriend.

He blinked up at Ryan like he’d misheard him, but Ryan wasn’t even looking—he was too busy cooking like he hadn’t just dropped an absolutely insane sentence in the middle of the room.

Eli’s face flushed pink so fast it actually felt warm. He sane deeper into the blanket he was under, trying to pretend his heart wasn’t melting.

Elliot Bennett was officially Ryan Mitchell’s boyfriend.

Alex stepped forward, pulled off his sunglasses, and offered a hand. “Nice. I’ve heard, like, everything about you. I’m the emotionally unavailable third roommate.”

Eli shook his hand quietly. “Hi.”

Alex was so intimidating — in that tall, straight, fratty kind of way. He had dark brown beach wavy hair and a stupid perfect jawline and the kind of presence that made you feel like you had to apologize for existing.

Alex looked back at Ryan. “This him?”

Ryan nodded. “Yup.”

Alex turned back to Eli, motioning over to Ryan. “Cool. He needs someone who’ll make him less annoying. Do you punch him when he gets dramatic?”

Eli blinked. “Uh—no?”

Alex smirked. “You should try it.” he flopped onto the couch like he had already lived there for 15 years. “I just got back from Europe. Three months studying abroad. Kind of. Mostly just drinking and making out with Spanish girls named Sol and French girls who said their names too fast.”

He started pulling stuff out of his bag—socks, books, a soccer ball for some strange reason—while continuing like no one had asked.

“There was this girl in Amsterdam who told me I had ‘American boy’ energy, which felt like an insult but I kissed her anyway.”

Eli glanced nervously at Ryan.

“And this one guy—uh, a bartender or something—I think he was hitting on me? I just told him I was flattered and not into dudes and he was like, ‘That’s okay, I’m into challenges,’ and I swear to god I almost crashed out.”

Eli blinked and raised an eyebrow.

Alex shrugged like it was nothing. “Not my thing, but I respect the hustle.”

Eli stared at him for a second longer then let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. So, not homophobic—just loud and aggressively straight, He thought. That’s more than most people he’s met on campus can say.

Ryan plopped down beside Eli on the couch, putting an arm around him and leaned into him slightly.

“He’s a lot,” Ryan said under his breath.

Eli nodded. “Yeah. But I think I like him.”

“Same,” Ryan said, grinning.

Alex was now halfway through explaining how he almost got detained in Rome for accidentally lighting incense in a non-smoking hostel. Eli didn’t understand the story, but the weird part was that between Ryan, Alex, and Sophia, he kind of felt like he finally found a little safe circle in between all the drama.

After a while of listening to all of Alex’s stupid stories, Ryan interrupted. “Alright well I need to grab my book from the bookstore before it closes.”

Alex stood up. “I’ll come. I probably should get things for classes too I guess.”

Ryan turned to Eli, leaned over the back of the couch, and kissed the side of his head. “Be right back. You okay here?”

Eli nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He got out his phone to check on Sophia, who had been suffering from a headache all morning.

hey you feeling better?

no not really 🙁 

go get you a coffee girl

already omw 

Sophia looked up from her phone and started heading to the Starbucks on the edge of campus near the old art building.

She didn’t even see him coming.

The second she rounded the corner, Tanner was there Blocking the sidewalk. His eyes were flat. Cold. Empty in a way she’s never seen anyone’s eyes before—a way that made her stomach twist.

“Going somewhere princess?”

Sophia got a sinking feeling. “The fuck do you want?”

Tanner didn’t move. “We never got to chat. Y’know, properly when that fag isn’t by your side.”

While Sophia had never been strong academically, she’s always known people. Her common sense and street smarts were better than anyone she’d ever known. She knew better than to talk back in a situation like this, so she stepped to the side, trying to move past him, but he cut her off.

Tanner smiled. “You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t know anything.”

“Move,” she snapped.

Tanner’s smile intensified, and he showed those nasty, fuzzy yellow teeth of his.

And then he shoved her—hard—into the wall.

Her back hit the concrete with a sickening thud. The wind rushed out of her lungs, making her fall on the ground. Her phone flew out of her hand and she gasped, reaching for her it, but Tanner stomped on her wrist, enough for her to wince in pain.

“You think this is a game?” he growled. “You think because you hang around Ryan and his little slut that you’re untouchable?”

Sophia tried to pull away. “Get off me.”

He put all his body weight onto her wrist, and it made a cracking noise as he squatted down and got in her face. Close to her face.

“Let me paint the picture for you,” he hissed. “Your little bestie? Eli? He’s nothing. You? You’re just noise. But Ryan?”

He leaned in, putting his forehead against hers.

He chuckled. “Oh, Ryan’s a fucking mirror. And I’m gonna break everything that reflects in him.”

Sophia spat in his face.

Tanner lost it.

He shoved her head into the ground, and her head bounced off the pavement. She tried to scream, but the wind was knocked out of her again. He stepped off her wrist, causing her to yelp from the pressure change.

“You don’t get to talk back,” he snapped, scraping her face against the ground. “You don’t get to act like you’re better than me.”

“He- help- help!” She finally managed to yell.

Tanner raised a fist and threw down a hard punch straight into her throat.

“You’re just a fucking prostitute who’s trying to do anything to get laid.” Tanner said pinning her down. “I’ll show you getting laid.“

His hand reached for his pants zipper.

He unzipped his pants and started to take his pants down—then grinded up and down against her.

“HEY!”

The voice cut through the air like a thunderclap.

Tanner turned.

Alex was already sprinting.

He tackled tanner, full force, slamming him into the wall with so much force that Tanner almost blacked out. Alex slammed his forearm against Tanner’s throat and kneed him in the nuts as hard as he fucking could. It was so hard in fact—that Tanner’s balls almost popped.

Tanner, with his already pulled down pants, yelped in pain.

Alex punched him in the face as hard as he could. “You think you can fucking assault an innocent girl?” Alex screamed, spit spraying out of his mouth. “You fucking homophobic, piece-of-shit, rapist!”

“GO!” *punch* “TO!” *punch* “HELL!” Alex’s final punch hit Tanner so hard he blacked out as he dropped to the ground.

Ryan ran up to Sophia. “Sophia—“ He yelled with shaking hands, dropping to the ground. “Hey! You okay? You with me?”

Sophia blinked up at him, dazed, blood all over her face, and wrist twisting in an abnormal way. “Ryan…?”

“Yeah it’s me. I got you.” He said, holding her tightly in his lap and rocking her back and forth.

Tanner regained conciseness. As he sat up, Ryan stood too. Calm wasn’t on the table anymore.

He walked over to him, beat up on the ground. “Touch her again,” he said, voice dark and steady, “and I will fucking. Bury. You.”

Tanner wiped his nose with blood coming out of it. “She asked for it. Fucking slut-“

Ryan kicked him in the face as hard as he could. He went out… cold. 

Ryan didn’t care and he knelt back down beside Sophia, gently brushing her hair from her face as Alex called 911.

“You’re okay. We’re here.”

She broke down crying with all the strength she had, nestling her head into Ryan’s chest. She wasn’t crying from the pain.

Once the ambulance showed up, detaining and taking Tanner’s unconscious body away, Ryan and Alex were let go without a hint of blame. The cops informed them that Tanner already had a criminal record and had assaulted multiple girls in the past, but always got bailed out of jail because his parents were rich.

They got Sophia home around midnight.

She could walk, but barely. Her wrist was completely snapped, her face was swollen, still covered in dried blood. She didn’t say much—just kept mumbling she was okay, even though her eyes were glassy and her voice was barely audible.

Ryan had one arm around her the entire walk back. Alex was ahead of them, silent. Stiff. Looking at—almost regretting—Tanner’s blood on his knuckles. If the situation came up again, there is absolutely nothing Alex would’ve done differently. It was just that violence was not like him; it never had been.

The second they stepped inside the apartment, Eli looked up from the couch. He was worried sick from neither Sophia or Ryan were answering his texts, and why they had been gone that long just after going to get some books.

His smile dropped instantly.

“Soph—“

His voice cracked before he even got to her. He jumped up, completely frozen for half a second before running to meet them halfway. He looked at her face—saw the bruising, the wrist, the way she couldn’t meet his eyes—and everything in him shattered.

“What happened,” Eli whispered, his hands hovering but not touching her, “What the fuck happened?!”

Sophia opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“She was alone,” Ryan said, steady but soft. “Tanner found her.”

Eli’s eyes widened, blinking like he couldn’t comprehend the words.

“No—no, no, she was just going to get coffee—she said she’d be back in ten minutes—how did this happen?!”

“Eli—“ Sophia started, but he was already breaking down.

His hands clutched at his hair as he stepped back from them, pacing on the floor. His breathing picked up fast. Too fast.

“I should’ve gone with her—I should’ve said something—I should’ve been there—“

Ryan pulled Sophia gently toward the couch, helping her sit. Then he crossed the room, grabbed Eli by the shoulders, and forced him to stop moving.

“Hey,” he said, firm. “This is not your fault.”

Eli shook his head violently, eyes still locked on Sophia. “She could’ve died.”

“But she didn’t, Ryan said. “Because she fought. Because she’s—Sophia.”

Eli broke. Right there. He had never had a real, genuine friend before. And this? His first ever best friend, on the verge of death after just a week of meeting.

Ryan pulled him into his chest and held him while Eli sobbed—real, heavy, guilt-strangled sobs that shook his whole body. Ryan just held him. Quiet, solid, safe. Ryan.

Sophia, sitting on the couch, watched them. Even though her face was throbbing, even though her wrist was bent the other way—she smiled anyway.

They stayed like that for a while.

Eventually, Eli wiped his face and crawled over to sit beside Sophia, gently pulling a blanket over her lap.

“Don’t go anywhere without me next time,” he whispred.

“Not a chance,” she whispered back.

Later that night, Alex was tired in that deep, full-body kind of way—the kind that made your bones feel soft and head feel hollow.

The chaos and the events of the day had settled, for now. Sophia was asleep on the couch, bruised but breathing steady. Eli was curled up beside her, eyes half-shut, clinging to Ryan’s hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Ryan was still awake, but just barely, stroking Eli’s hair with one hand and holding his other.

Alex stood up quietly. “I’m gonna crash. You good?”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah. Thanks again. For… all of it.”

Alex gave a soft nod and turned down the hallway toward his room.

He passed Tyler’s door and noticed it was slightly open — not wide, just an inch or two. Enough to see that the lights inside were low, the monitor glowing faint blue. Alex paused, confused.

He gently knocked on the frame. “Tyler?”

No answer.

He leaned forward, cracked the door open a little more. “Hey, man—you home?”

Still nothing.

That was, until his eyes adjusted. Tyler was sitting at his desk, facing the monitor. Shirtless. Headphones on. One hand on the mouse. The other wrapped firmly around his dick, stroking himself up and down.

Alex’s stomach twisted. He started to pull back—but he saw what he was looking at on the screen.

At first it looked like any photo. Blurry. Dim. Grainy, like it had been zoomed in too far or taken through glass.

Then he realized, it was.

It was Ryan’s bedroom, from the outside. Window half open.

Ryan’s bed.

Completely naked, it was Ryan kissing Eli’s neck, covering his mouth. Eli’s face was all scrunched while he was trying to take Ryan’s dick. Ryan’s eyes were closed, lips parted.

Alex’s mouth went dry and his heart thudded hard.

He stepped back, with a lump in his throat. Tyler still hadn’t noticed him. He was still listening to god-knows-what on his headphones, locked into whatever kind of sick fantasy was playing out in his head.

Alex didn’t say a word.

He backed away from the door, slowly. Carefully. He turned, walked down the hallway like a ghost and stopped in the kitchen, leaning over the counter.

He stared at the floor for a long time with his mind racing, then he pulled out his phone.

His thumb hovered over Ryan’s name, but he didn’t press it. Not yet. He just kind of stood there, trying to process something no one else knew.

Alex wasn’t sure if he should burn it all down right now—or if he should wait until morning.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter 1

Gustave came out of his office on Dauphin Street and looked at the sparse traffic. The locals considered their town a booming place with increased port traffic after dredging a channel to allow for ocean going steamships. He saw the changes after only a couple of years, but it was nothing compared to New Orleans, the city that had been his home. He slipped on his gloves, adjusted his coat, and headed toward the docks.

He had left New Orleans because it was a bustling city, people coming from all over to put into the docks and prowl the city. For the last few years, he worked on a project he had toyed with since he was a teenager. At first, it was just a fantasy, some fiction he dreamed up to occupy his mind, one that he struggled to calm, even for sleep. Then he found the books. Books on new scientific discoveries. He found one in New Orleans, then traveled to Cambridge and Paris and Berlin seeking other volumes. He found books on magnetism, electricity, internal combustion engines, and batteries. He read them cover to cover, so many times he practically knew them by heart. And he expanded upon them, did his own experiments in a warehouse at the docks. As he ran his experiments, he could hear steamships heading upriver or out to the gulf, men yelling and moving cargo, and loose boards of the docks slapping down on their supports when heavy laden carts rolled over them. He had been a young man then, barely out of his twenties, and over the next ten years he began to think differently of his experiments.

After sitting in cafes and bars, listening to the leaders of industry talk, he knew he would not share his discoveries with the likes of these men. They didn’t deserve the results of his research and experimentation. Instead, he began to think of his research as a means of escape. He never felt like he fit into this new world of industry, with its belching smokestacks and foul run-offs that polluted the waters. London had been an absolute horror, and strolling the docks in New Orleans, he knew the small city was just as bad.

But there was another reason he wanted to escape. Adrien Gustave Fontaine was thirty-four years old and a confirmed bachelor per the gossip of his neighbors, but he wasn’t single because he had failed to find a woman who would find him a suitable mate, but rather he wasn’t attracted to women at all. He was drawn to men, others like himself, educated and curious about the world. It was difficult living in New Orleans, for most of the men he met were uneducated dock workers, sailors on shore leave, and travelers through the city. There were a couple of men he met regularly, the baker’s assistant in Jackson Square and the son of a farmer who lived upriver, coming into town for supplies every two or three months. They satisfied his lust and desires but only for a short time. He tried to picture a life with the two men, but he could never make it seem real, and it would have required great sacrifice on his part, especially Simon, the farmer.  

When news of the channel project in Mobile was to get underway, he knew what he had to do. He moved to the smaller city with its struggling port, setting up a shop north of it, a short ride on horse to come into town where he had a business front set up, one that would keep attention away from the old, converted barn north of town.

It was time to execute his plan. He had a small group ready to go with him. His sister and her husband, an engineer like himself, a young scientist out of Cambridge and his family, a wife and two young children, a contractor from the docks, and a host of others, all making their way to Mobile. There would be over a hundred of them, requiring two vessels, not one, something that caused him to rush into production five years ago. With the build done in modules and sections, those involved in manufacture and assembly had no idea what the final product would be. He knew there were questions about why the components were to be shipped to Mobile and not New Orleans or Charleston. But he made up one story after the next knowing if someone ever tried to back track to work out what he had done, it would be impossible. To some, he was building a water hydraulic station, or a new smelting facility, and to others a new ginmill. It was only the core group, those going with him, that knew the truth.

The waters of the bay were flat with no movement of air over it. Nothing to stir the grass and trees along its banks or ripple its surface. Gustave wondered why men were required to wear jackets, gloves, and hats in such miserable heat. It was stifling, with its high humidity. Wiping his brow with a gloved hand, he made his way along the docks looking for someone.

He had seen him before. Directing the construction of an office building at the docks, at the restaurant near his office, and one evening, when he was so stir-crazy he roamed the town until he came to a bar that catering to blacks, and he boldly entered the establishment. He had been flustered to find himself standing at the bar right next to the man. He knew him to be tall, taller than most, with a lean muscular build, with dark skin and eyes even darker, and hair just long enough to see its natural curly nature.

I think you’re lost, my friend the bartender had said, and even now Gustave could picture the large man with biceps that stretched the sleeves of his shirt.

I’m…I’m terribly sorry. I meant no offense or trespass he had replied as he backed toward the door and slipped out.

Since that night, he had pondered this infatuation he had for him. Jean-Louis Dubois, a French American who had studied architecture in Paris and Engineering in England, where Gustave wasn’t sure. Jean-Louis was single, over thirty, and known to be a quiet chap who kept to himself. It gave Gustave hope Jean-Louis was more than just shy, maybe he was attracted to men too. The man would be a perfect addition to his group. An engineer and architect, someone who could work in steel and aluminum and glass, where most he knew struggled still with masonry and wood.

He came to a large building under construction. To its right the blacksmith shops and behind it a sawmill. It had to be the building Jean-Louis was overseeing. For Mobile, it was a large building, steel beams being set in place on steel columns, although it would only be three floors. It was a relatively new construction type, this building with steel in lieu of wood or masonry, and Gustave had seen the possibilities. He had his own construction projects underway, each location doing a small part of the overall whole. It was a precaution, a way to conceal the construction’s true purpose. If word got out what he was having built, most, if not all, would consider him mad.

As he drew near the construction site, he saw him, Jean-Louis Dubois. Tall and so attractive with his shirt unbuttoned revealing the sweating chest, it made Gustave breathless. He gathered his courage and approached the man carrying roles of blueprints.

“Excuse me, Jean-Louis Dubois?”

“Yes, how can I help you,” said Jean-Louis, sounding distracted and anything but wanting to have a conversation with a stranger.

“My name is Adrien Gustave Fontaine, and I was wondering if we could have a word. It’s about a rather…unusual project I have underway.”

“Unusual? Are you reaching for the sky with steel framing. You know some in Chicago are already planning to go higher than anyone before.”

“I’ve heard, but no, I have something else in mind. Something I must beg for discretion.”

“A secret project? Is it for the government?”

“No, it is a private affair.”

“I’m curious. Let me talk to the foreman, then you can tell me about this…unusual project.”

 

The diner catered to the black workers of the docks, and Gustave found himself the only white man in the place. He saw the stares, knowing he was considered trespassing in one of the few places a black man could go without harassment.

“I’m sorry, but there are not many places that will serve me,” said Jean-Louis.

“No need to apologize to me. I know it is not your doing. It’s shameful, this racism.”

“Well, regardless of the North winning the war and the laws, I’m afraid it has done nothing to change the minds of some men.”

Gustave turned to face Jean-Louis, leaning forward so he could lower his voice. He set his gloves to the side and glanced around once.

“I’m afraid I no longer wish to change men’s minds. I look to create my own paradise away from all of this…”  He was at a loss for words. How to tell Jean-Louis he was sick of the attitudes, the barbaric nature of most men, and the way this industrial age is creating a capitalism that is unvarnished greed.

“Paradise?”

“Well, that is a bit of an exaggeration. But it will be a place that is equitable.”

Jean-Louis laughed, good-naturedly, shaking his head.

“Nothing in this life is equitable.”

“Yes, true, but we can do better. Much better.”

“So, Mr. Fontaine, will you be looking for the fountain of youth next?”

“I know my description is too vague. Come to my home, after we dine, and let me show you my plans, and why I need you to help me bring them together.”

“Let’s order lunch, then I’ll see if I’m curious enough about these plans to go to your home. I admit, the audacity of what you insinuate has me piqued.”

 

Outside the darken windows overlooking St. Anthony Street, the town was quiet, just the slow clop of a horse and its rider passing broke the silence. Jean-Louis was leaning back staring across the dining table at Gustave. The candles fluttered from a breeze, casting a flickering light over the documents spread out between. He picked up the glass that Gustave refilled with the dark golden bourbon and sipped it slowly. He no longer felt the warmth of its passage down to his stomach, just the way it seemed to slow time, to make the room warm and cozy, smaller than first impressions.

“You have this project that needs more engineers, one that is ready to construct,” said Jean-Louis.

“That is correct.”

“But you won’t tell me where unless I agree to be a part of the project.”

“To be more precise, I won’t reveal its location until after we depart.”

“Its location is that much of a secret?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve gathered scientists, doctors, contractors, and other engineers who have agreed to these terms?”

“Yes.”

“And what are you offering them?”

“The same as you. A new life where you’ll be treated equally. A chance to live in a just and free society.”

“And monetary compensation?”

“You’ll have the compensation needed to live as a wealthy man here in this country.”

“That is a vague response, Mr. Fontaine.”

“I know but tell you more could compromise the project.”

“Why me?”

Gustave smiled, looked out the window, then after a long few seconds, turned back to Jean-Louis.

“I must confess, I’m not sure why I chose you. I know…I was drawn to you. And I’ve seen some of your work and read about the projects elsewhere.”

“Drawn to me?”

Gustave blushed. He wondered if the candlelight concealed it.

“You know some men have…needs…that are different than most men,” said Gustave.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

It seemed like a dare. Almost an accusation, the way Gustave replied to Jean-Louis.

“Gustave, what do you imply?”

“I…nothing. Let’s forget it. Shall we call it a night?”

“It is late.”

“Too late to be out and about. Why not stay here for the night. There is a guest bedroom next to mine.”

Jean-Louis began to say no, he would be on his way, but he hesitated. It was the look Gustave had been giving him, one he recognized. He leaned back, unsure if it was wise. A black man staying at a white man’s house as equals.

“If it is no trouble, I’d be thankful for the accommodations.”

“It is no trouble at all.”

 

Gustave lay awake. He knew it was late, for he had been lying in bed so long his legs and arms felt numb. He shifted again, turning to his right side, staring toward the door of his bedroom. As he stared at the door, he heard Jean-Louis padding down the hall going to the bathroom. He wondered if Jean-Louis had been laying awake the same as he, but he knew the man could have just woken to the need to go to the bathroom.

He lay quiet, barely breathing, waiting for Jean-Louis to come back out of the bathroom. After what seemed far too long, he heard the toilet flush, water running, then the door open. The pad of feet moved down the hall, louder than before, and Gustave realized Jean-Louis was standing outside his door.

“Gastave…are you awake?” whispered Jean-Louis.

Gustave sat up and looked at the door, wondering if he should respond. He wanted to respond, to get up and open the door and face him as he did. He swung his feet to the floor, knowing Jean-Louis could hear the squeak of his bed as he moved.

“Yes.”

A long silence, one so long Gustave started to stand to go to the door.

“Can I come in?” Jean-Louis spoke so softly Gustave barely heard him. He heard the nervousness of the voice, and it comforted him to know he wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“The door is unlocked.”

Jean-Louis entered the dark bedroom, just a silhouette to Gustave. A tall, masculine silhouette that he watched with desire. A few steps and Jean-Louis was standing by the bed. Gustave started to toss back the blankets to invite him into his bed. Instead, he pushed the blankets back enough to allow him to swing his legs to the side of the bed, one on each side of Jean-Louis. He looked at the silhouette as he reached out, his hand shivering despite the sweltering heat still lingering in the air.

“Will you sleep with me?” Gustave whispered.

“Yes.”

Gustave touched the bare thigh just below the undergarment. He felt the smooth skin, fingers circling over it. He reached out with his other hand and touched the other thigh. He slid them upward, pushing at the hem as far as it would go, then rubbed over the soft fabric until he felt the cock. He felt along its growing length and manipulated the head until it was stretched out and hard. He leaned forward and put his mouth on it. He kissed it, mouthed along its length, moaning and shivering with desire. He tugged the garment down until the cock popped out hitting him in the face and the garment landed around the ankles. He held the cock steady and sucked the head into his mouth, then he pushed forward taking all he could into his mouth, his hand still around the base of it.

Gustave manipulated the cock with his mouth. He tongued it, slid lips along its length, and he stroked it as he sucked on the head. Jean-Louis began to pump it into his mouth, at first slowly, gently, but as Jean-Louis became more aroused, hands held his head as cock pumped into his mouth. He held still and let Jean-Louis fuck. Let the big, tall man use him, use his mouth, for he wanted it like none before. He felt his own cock struggle to stretch out in the confines of his garments as cock pushed into his throat.

“Take it,” Jean-Louis uttered.

Cum flooded Gustave’s mouth. The thick load filled his mouth to overflowing and it trickled down his chin as he swallowed and swallowed as much as he could.

 

Jean-Louis pushed Gustave to his back, and he held his legs up letting Jean-Louis strip off his garments. His cock flopped against his stomach, hard and leaking. Jean-Louis grabbed his legs and dragged his ass to the edge of the mattress. He watched him, lean over and take his cock in the mouth as fingers toyed with his tightening sac. The fingers moved the nuts around as the mouth descended then dragged the tongue upward until swirling around the wet head.  The mouth manipulated the head as fingers moved below the sac, raking over his ass. One finger penetrated him, then two, as the mouth kept working his cock. He was close, so goddamn close, and he threw his head back and slapped at the mattress.

His cock was released and the fingers pulled free of his ass. He raised up ready to cry out no, and saw the silhouette of Jean-Louis, enough to see the man stroking his very hard cock. He raised his legs and watched Jean-Louis take each ankle spreading them wide apart. He watched the man bend at the knees and move to him until cock touched his ass. It was raked up and down his ass then pressed to his opening. He calmed his breathing and pushed against it for he wanted the cock. He wanted it with such desire he was breathless.

Jean-Louis penetrated him, stretched his opening and sank into his depths, and he moaned and shivered with the pain/pleasure of it.

Their fuck was not slow or gentle. Gustave rocked and bounced on the bed as Jean-Louis hammered his insides, thrusting every inch of cock into him. He clutched at the bed and arched his body, pushing against Jean-Louis. The fullness of the penetration, how Jean-Louis burrowed deep into his body, made his cock drool on his stomach.

Jean-Louis pulled out and manhandled him, turning him on the bed so he too could get on it. Jean-Louis held his legs behind the knees and pushed forward and down, sinking the knees into the mattress either side of his torso. His ass angled upward, perfect for Jean-Louis’ fuck, and he cried out when Jean-Louis shoved every inch into his depths and began to fuck. Fuck hard. Hips smacked against his upturned ass and the bed squeaked and banged into the wall. His own cock bounced on his stomach as Jean-Louis pumped cock into his depths at a furious pace.

Gustave couldn’t hold back. Jean-Louis was too physical, and he grabbed the headboard and clutched desperately to it as his cock exploded. Cum roped up his chest and its scent filled the room. As his cock spurt wad after wad, his ass spasm around Jean-Louis’ cock. Then Jean-Louis buried it in his depths and shuddered with his own release.

 

Without opening his eyes, Gustave woke sometime before daylight. He felt a hand with fingers splayed wide apart on his stomach. Hot exhales caressed the back of his neck. A warm body with hard cock nestled up to his back. He pictured Jean-Louis, dark skinned, tall and muscular. He replayed their sex, the physical nature of it. How he had sat on the man’s cock and rode it until he stroked to release. How the man became gentle once spent, kissing his mouth, licking the cum from his chest and stomach, and licking it from his spent cock. How they didn’t need words to know Jean-Louis wasn’t to leave his bed, but to remain in it, to sleep next to him.

He felt the nature of the man, knowing how taboo it would be to so many. Not only was Jean-Louis black, but their sex was more egregious. By every measure society would condemn them. But in the darkness of the night, he knew the truth, how the color of a man’s skin didn’t matter. For in the throes of sex, it didn’t matter if a man was light skinned or dark skinned or some shade in-between. It didn’t matter about the nature of their hair or the color of their eyes. In the dark, they were alike, both just men, men who enjoyed the other’s companionship. And their sex.

Jean-Louis stirred, asked in a whisper if he was awake. Gustave answered by reaching between them and putting Jean-Louis’ cock to his opening and pushing back on it.

 

 

For six months, Gustave and Jean-Louis meet secretly, knowing society would not tolerate a relationship between two men, much less one that included a black man. They visited the other’s home late in the night, or down at the docks where Jean-Louis’ project was located, Gustave arriving long after the last contractor had left. And for six months, Gustave gave Jean-Louis more details of his project. It was to be steel frame and panels, double-walled with an insulation of wool between them. There was a new secret composite material being used for interior panels and special glass panes. It sounded fantastical to Jean-Louis, but he saw the drawings and invoices, wondering how Gustave could afford such an endeavor.

Where Gustave got his money, he never revealed. It added to the project’s secret nature, and as time went on, Jean-Louis found himself as secretive about it as Gustave. Something shared between them, like their relationship.

On the night of October 17, 1892, a carriage hired by Gustave picked Jean-Louis up on the corner of Dauphin Street and Jackson Street. Gustave had said it was time to reveal all for it was time to leave. The carriage made its way to Water Street and headed north.  At One Mile Creek, the carriage took Telegraph Road. They traveled for only about thirty minutes, turning on a dirt track that led back to the Mobile River. They came to an old barn that was lit up, revealing workspaces inside. The carriage pulled to a stop and Jean-Louis climbed down.

“You made it,” said Gustave.

“Yes, it seems I have. What is this place?”

“It’s where we assembled our vessels for travel to the project site.”

“Vessels? Ships?”

“Not exactly. Come, let me show you.”

Jean-Louis followed Gustave past the barn to a long building of such proportions he had not seen since visiting a railway facility in Europe. The silhouette against the dark sky made them even larger. Gustave opened a door and Jean-Louis was shocked to see how brightly the interior was lit up. He stared in amazement at the artificial light strung over the space.

“Where did you get those lights?”

“We had them made in England. They are not ironed out yet, but we’re working on it. They don’t last as long as we hoped. About thirty days or so and we’re having to replace the bulbs.”

“They’re magnificent.”

Then Jean-Louis looked down at the two vessels sitting in a channel that ran the span of the building. They were low in the water, with a small, raised section in the middle of each. He approached the nearest trying to square it against the steamships he had seen in Europe and New Orleans.

“What are these vessels?”

“Submarines.”

“Submarines? You mean they travel beneath the surface of the water?”

“Yes.”

“And we’re to leave in them?”

“Yes. The others are gathered in the barn. There will be twenty-two of us in each vessel. Others will join us at our first destination, Newfoundland.”

“Newfoundland?”

“We will gather there where we have cargo ships waiting. From there we will go to the project site.”

“Which is where?”

“To the south, about halfway to Bermuda.”

“But there is no land mass in that region.”

Gustave smiled then turned to the nearest vessel. He walked to the gangplank, taking a hold of the rail as if about to cross over.

“This is the Poseidon and that is the Pontus.”

“And they are…safe?”

“Oh, very safe. We have done several runs with each one. The last time, they were kept at sea for a week.”

“And we will depart tonight?”

Gustave looked up to see the others coming in, led by Marion Taylor, the Captain for the Pontus. Jean-Louis turned to see where the voices were coming from and was surprised to see a mix of men and women, and even a few children.

“This way, come, everyone, gather around,” yelled Gustave. “I hope everyone is as excited as I, for it is time we embark on our journey to a new life. You know which vessel you are stationed on, so proceed to your quarters. Your belongings are already stowed away.”

“Gustave, which vessel will—”

“Why, you’re with me, of course, on the Poseidon. Come, let me show you to our quarters.”

“We’ll be together?”

“Yes, Jean-Louis, we’ll be together, from now on, for as long as you’ll be my companion.”

 

One hour later the Pontus headed down the Mobile River with the Poseidon following behind it. Before getting near Mobile, they submerged just beneath the surface and headed south toward the Gulf of Mexico. Once out of the bay and deeper waters, they descended to a depth that would conceal them from ships that might pass overhead.

 

Chapter 2

Dr. Albert Brown swam as fast as he could. He swam until his arms and legs were so fatigued, he could no longer feel them as he struggled to keep his head above water. It was just pure instinct, the innate determination of a human to fight to survive. Behind him, he heard another explosion and dared not to look back. Would it be a curse to do so, he wondered, as he pictured his last image of the HMHS Llandovery Castle as it was going down. It was a hospital ship heading toward England when a German U-boat torpedoed it. It was a war crime, but in a war to end all wars, what was one more war crime.

He tried to remember what brought Europe and the United Kingdom to war. He knew it was Germany against France and England at first, the three of them pushing for control of the other, or so he thought. Maybe that was all wrong because he was cold and exhausted and wondering if he should have gone down with the ship. It would have been so easy.

What day was it, he wondered, his mind jumping around as he slowed, unable to keep going. It had been the 26th of June the day before, the year…the year…1918. He treaded water as he turned to see the HMHS Llandovery Castle sink from view, then he saw the German U-boat. It was approaching some lifeboats and once near, opened fire with automatic machine guns, cutting the boats and the people in them to ribbons. It was hopeless, no one could survive this cruelty, and he took one more breath and let his body sink beneath the surface.

He opened his eyes to the dark waters wondering if he was dead yet. He gasped for breath drawing in a lung full of water. It carried him down faster. He was about to lose consciousness when he saw a light. As it neared, it split into two, then four lights with the silhouette of some strange life form behind them. Then he blacked out.

 

Jules Chevalier maneuvered the Mantarog toward the descending body. He had begged the captain to let him search for survivors, emphasizing how most on the ship would be doctors or nurses. It wasn’t something he knew as factual, but he would take any excuse to use the small research vessel to look for survivors. He was only nineteen years old but had logged more hours on the Mantarog than most men. He had been only thirteen when Jean-Louis Dubois had given him his first opportunity to operate it. They had been off the coast of Spain, searching wrecks for certain metals. He demonstrated his skill showing the lessons back at Tiamat had not been in vain. He was smooth with the controls and able to slip into the tightest of places.

The little ship had a top profile of a stingray but from the side the central body was thicker with windows top and bottom along the front. There was a control stick for each hand and a pedal for each foot. It took coordination to operate the vessel, and Jules was one who could walk on his hands, or cross a span on a cable, or climb a structure with ease, showing no fear of heights or confined spaces. Gustave said he was made for the vessel when Jules got his certification to operate it.

Now he approached the body, seeing the man was unconscious. He maneuvered over him, opening the hatch, and putting the craft in a holding pattern, he used the grappling arm to capture the man and lift him on board. Once the hatch was closed, Jules put the craft on a float, holding steady at his current depth, so he could check on the man. He grabbed the medical kit and moved next to him. He unbuttoned the shirt and listened for a heartbeat. There was none.

He took the pulse device from the kit, putting the pads in place, then cranked the charge. When it hit 200, he hit the switch. The body arced off the deck with the shock, but the man remained still. He cranked the pulse to 300 and hit the switch. The man arched off the deck, then began to cough. Jules helped the man to roll to his side enabling him to expel the water from his lungs.

“Take it easy. You’re going to be alright. Just breathe,” Jules coached until the man began to settle down. He choked one more time, then got his breath. He looked around the small craft then to Jules. “Where am I?”

“You’re on board my craft. I rescued you. You were drowning.”

“Yes, I remember that very distinctly. And the Llandovery Castle…it has sunk?”

“Yes.”

“And all aboard are dead?”

“No, one lifeboat made it.”

“The Germans didn’t shoot them?”

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jules Chevalier, citizen of Tiamat.”

“Tiamat? Never heard of it.”

“No, I’m sure you haven’t. What is your name?”

“I’m Dr. Albert Brown of Cambridge and I must get to England.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s get back to the Poseidon and I’ll let Gustave explain everything.”

“And who is this Gustave?”

“The captain of the Poseidon and First Citizen of Tiamat.”

“Well, turn your boat around and take me to this captain of yours.”

Jules moved back into the bridge, letting Dr. Brown follow him. The bridge was cramped, but had seats for three, two back and either side of the steering. Jules sat at steering, not noticing how the doctor came up short when he realized they were not on a boat but in a vessel beneath the surface.

“What is this craft?”

“It’s a research vessel from the Poseidon. Take a seat and we’ll head back.”

“The Poseidon? It is larger than this…research vessel?”

Jules laughed and looked back. “Much larger. It has a crew of forty-three but if need, it can carry a crew of sixty.”

“Sixty men? And is it like this vessel? It travels underwater?”

“Yes. All our vessels are submarines of one type or another.”

 

Dr. Brown stood in the room provided him on the Poseidon. He stared at the wall not seeing it. He was seeing the Poseidon, a vessel so massive he could only see sections of it within their smaller submarine’s lights. He was seeing the bridge with its large windows allowing one to view the ocean they were moving through. He was seeing the crew he passed as Jules led him to his quarters, a mixture of men and women. It was shocking. He turned and looked at the clean clothes on the bed replaying Jules’ directions.

Two doors down is the shower room. In the alcove you’ll see signs for Men on the left and Women on the right.

Towels are in the closet in your room, along with the toiletries you will need.

Dr. Brown, take a shower and get some rest.

Dr. Brown glanced in the mirror secured on the closet door, seeing how disheveled he appeared. His hair matted down, his clothes still damp and wrinkled with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down and missing a couple of buttons. He looked as he felt. Someone who had been dumped into the ocean and forced to swim for it.

Then he thought of the young man who saved him. Jules Chevalier, a French name but Jules didn’t sound like someone from France. Jules’ English was good, but not the Queen’s English, more like an American’s English. In the quiet of his quarters, he allowed himself to think about the attractive nature of Jules. The dark hair, the tall lean build, but one muscular when he considered how the biceps flexed when helping him get to his feet.

Then he thought of the other men he had seen when moving through the submarine. Most appeared to be in their early twenties, but a few appeared closer to his age of thirty-two. They were all tall, muscular, and each attractive in their own way. The confinement of the submarine with so many men within it, his time on board would be a challenge. He picked up the clean clothes, telling himself he would need to stay in his room.

Entering the showers, he saw sinks along one wall and along the opposite, stalls for water closets. But what really caught his eye was the open showers along the back of the room where Jules Chevalier was bathing. The muscular body captured his eye. Suds slid down the smooth skin and the cock hung heavy over its sac. Jules was shampooing his hair, then moved under the shower, head tilted back, to rinse the soap from it. Dr. Brown moved hesitantly to the showers, setting his things on a bench where a robe and towel lay. He turned his back to Jules, afraid of being caught staring and stripped out of his clothes, laying each garment on the bench. Once naked, he felt exposed like never before, and tried to occupy his mind by digging out his soap, bath cloth, and the bottle of shampoo. With everything in hand, he turned to see Jules looking at him. A smile, and it unnerved him.

“You’ll feel better once you get a shower,” said Jules.

“Yes, I know you’re right.”

Dr. Brown went to the far left shower head, two over from Jules, knowing the distance wasn’t near enough, not by a long shot. He turned on the shower, shocked at how warm water flowed from the head almost instantly and stepped underneath it. He sighed at the feel of it, how the warm water cascaded over his body. He turned his back to the shower head and let the water hit the back of his head. He opened his eyes to see Jules standing out from his shower, soaping up one long leg, then the other.

“Did they tell you we’re heading home?” said Jules.

“Yes.”

“It’ll take a few days, so use the time to relax,” said Jules as he stood straight.

Dr. Brown looked at the tall lean body, the cock that was thicker and longer than before, one he imagined touching, taking in his hand, or maybe his mouth, sucking as much of it as he could, or maybe he would let it…

“Dr. Brown. Dr. Brown?”

“Oh, yes?”

“I was asking if you had left a girlfriend behind. I didn’t see a ring, so assumed no wife.”

“No, no one. I’m single.”

“A confirmed bachelor?”

Dr. Brown knew the insinuation. What most people mean by it. He heard the jovial tone of the question and saw how Jules looked at him waiting on his reply. How he waited for it while tugging on that cock, making it grow bigger. Watching Jules, Dr. Brown found himself tugging on his own cock.

“I wondered about you,” said Jules.

“W-w-what to do mean?”

“A doctor who was still single, one attractive and successful from the tailored clothing you were wearing.”

“I…well…”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Dr. Brown couldn’t believe Jules asked so openly. What if someone came in and saw them, both getting erect, Jules’ cock angling outward. What would happen to them?

“Yes…I guess.”

“You guess?” Jules replied, laughing. “Dr. Brown, it’s okay. You can express attraction toward another man. It is acceptable among us. Even Gustave and Jean-Louis are a couple.”

“Gay men are acceptable?”

“Of course. It’s a natural part of our humanity, is it not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we do. If you find someone attractive, why would it be wrong to say so? I think you’re attractive.”

“Really?”

“Really. Why not finish your shower and come to my quarters for a little while. I promise it’ll make you sleep like a baby afterward.”

 

Dr. Brown found himself standing by the bed in Jules’ room. It was like his own, just wide enough for a bed along the side wall and a closet opposite. The only difference was the few personal effects. A book lying on the floor by the head of the bed and a couple of necklaces draped over the doorknob of the closet. But it was Jules standing before him that captured his eye the most. They were naked except for a towel around their waist, and Dr. Brown felt Jules slip fingers over the top edge and slip it from his waist leaving him completely naked. He felt his cock stir with his arousal as Jules pulled his own towel loose and dropped it on the floor. Then everything happened quickly. A hand on the back of his neck, lips against his own. He kissed the young Jules back, passionately, hungry for the touch of another. He had nearly died and now he clung to life like a man gone mad. He pulled Jules against his body feeling the heat of it and the smooth skin rub against his own. And he felt the hard cock press against his stomach.

Jules pushed and Dr. Brown fell back on the bed. With legs spread, he held up his arms for Jules to move on top of him. He savored the weight of the man, how he lay on top, moving and undulating in a manner that pushed cock against cock and rubbed torso against torso.

Before long, Albert felt cock bore into his depths. He clutched the bed as if he had to hang on as the cock moved inside him. Deeper and deeper, it moved inside him. Then he felt a hot exhale just before lips touched his neck. The lips moved along his neck until tongue followed the form of his ear making him shudder. He felt the lips moving against his ear as Jules whispered into it.

“I think you’re so sexy…so hot.”

Jules increased his pace, and Albert turned his head so they could kiss.

Albert felt the fullness of their fuck. He relished the feel of Jules moving against him, the undulation of the body against his own. It aroused him until he was pushing upward, pressing his cock into Jules’ abdomen.

“Fuck me…fuck me,” Albert uttered breathlessly.

Jules fucked for so long their bodies were covered in sweat, rubbing slickly against the other. They gasped for breath, clinging to each other maddeningly. Desperately. Jules rolled to his back, bringing Albert on top. He moved up and down on Jules’ cock, slow, fast, slow, then once leaned back onto his hands, fast again. Brutally fast, slamming his ass down on the cock. He stroked his own, desperate to get off, while continuing to move. Hands took his ankles, the grip tight. Unrelenting. And he felt Jules start to push upward. He worked his ass faster, slamming down on Jules, the sound echoing in the small room. Then Jules cried out and shoved upward. It was enough to trigger his own release, and he slammed his ass down on the spurting cock and came. Cum landed on his face, roped up his chest, then rained down on his stomach as he settled his ass on Jules’ spent cock.

 

Albert lay on his stomach with Jules hovering over him, their only connection the cock pumping into his ass. He lay there, cock hard beneath him, and took every push inward. He moaned into the mattress and clutched the headboard. He begged Jules to fuck him, not to stop. Please, don’t stop he pleaded as cock bore into his depths.

Albert never felt so alive. Never so free; to be himself. To love another man without fear and accusation. And he reveled in this freedom. Gave of himself freely, asking for the sex that gave him such pleasure he was breathless.

Jules lay on his back, the body hot and slick against him. An arm circled his neck and pulled his head up. Lips touched his neck, nipped at the flesh, then tugged on his earlobe as hips bounced off his ass.

“OH, oh…take me,” exclaimed Jules.

Albert felt the way Jules shuddered and jerked, how cock was pushed all the way into depths, and he knew Jules was coming. He took it. Every thrust inward. Every ejaculation. He took everything Jules had to give him until he was finally spent. Then he was suddenly pulled and manhandled until on his back and cock being sucked. He ran his hands through Jules’ hair, grasped it, holding Jules’ head over his cock as he pumped his hips. Then he too shuddered and cried out as he pumped cum into the suctioning mouth.

For the days to come, as they made their way back to this underwater city, Tiamat, that Albert had heard so much about, Jules and he were together as much as possible. They dined in the mess hall together, Albert trying to adjust to the stares and smiles of those that knew what was going on between Jules and him. After just a couple of days, the whole crew knew. On occasion, they dined with Gustave and Jean-Louis, and it seemed miraculous that four men in relationships could do so. He told himself it was the twentieth century and who knew, before long societies may be so accepting that it was normal. But he had doubts, even as he saw how it could be.

Coming upon Tiamat, Albert looked in shock at the city spread out over the flat mountain top and spilling over one side. How could such a place remain secret, he wondered, then he smiled, knowing it shouldn’t be otherwise. The sight of the city erased any lingering doubts he had, and once disembarked from the Poseidon, there was no question of where he would reside, settling into Jules’ place, a one-bedroom until that was part of the city hanging over the side of the mountain, its window looking into the abyss.

 

Article from the Daily Sketch, June 20, 1929, by Harold Green.

Manchester

It was reported by the crew of the Spanish cargo steamship SS Castillo de San Garcia, upon passing through the Strait of Gibraltar, that a massively large Manta Ray passed under their ship. Its width was over half the length of their vessel, so claimed several of the crew. It was late afternoon, and the crew swore the giant was glowing in the dark waters. When it passed underneath them, it scraped the bottom of their ship, a sound described by one sailor as a metal-on-metal sound. Others said he was exaggerating the sound.

It should be noted, the captain said the crew had been consuming alcohol and should not be taken seriously. But the Captain gave no explanation for the damage to the hull of his ship.

 

Chapter 3

Gustave stood in the control tower overlooking the docking bays for the submarines. The two newest submarines were being prepared for departure. They were magnificent vessels, with their latest technology. The new outer layer that absorbed radio waves, the batteries using certain metals, and accommodations that rivaled the luxury ocean liners sailing overhead. He looked at the one Francisco was directing the loading of stock for meal preparation. The Elysium, 423 feet long and a beam of 92 feet, was the last to be completed of their fleet and the one that would take the lead since it had the newest radar system. Next to it was Arcadia. It was 408 feet long and a beam of 74 feet and was built for speed, easily the fastest vessel in the fleet, with a speed of 24 knots. It was also the most heavily armed and would be the vessel to respond to any attack, should someone discover them, which he doubted very much.

“Are they on schedule?” said Jean-Louis coming to stand next to Gustave.

“A bit ahead of schedule.,” Gustave replied good naturedly.

“Good.”

“Did Atlantis get back to us on their status?”

“Everything has been operating at normal for two weeks. The interior environment is at correct atmospheric levels and the filtering systems are working better than we anticipated.”

“So, we don’t have to worry about air or water.”

“No.”

“Once our people arrive and get set up, have the crew run one more check on the systems.”

“Already scheduled.”

Gustave smiled. Jean-Louis seemed to be able to read his mind. “It is an exciting time.”

“It is that. Our second city ready for occupancy. Only 46 years since we set out to set up Tiamat.”

“And another expansion of Tiamat is to start next month.”

“I’ve run over the plans again, and we think we can make some minor adjustments and get twenty more living units in it.”

“Don’t reduce them to make more.”

“Our new mechanical system takes less space, so I reduced four mechanical rooms, widening the space between them, getting one residential unit for each run of rooms. Two per floor, ten floors, twenty units.”

“Well, we may need them by the time we get the expansion finished.”

“I can’t wait to see how it looks hanging off the side of the mountain looking into the deep. Have you given it any more thought about the location for a third city?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure the south Atlantic is it. I’m starting to think the north Pacific might be more suitable.”

“You know Japan is starting to flex its muscles. Ms. Wagenman seems to think topside will go into another world war and this time it’ll include the Pacific.”

“That is why I think we need to be there. Ready to respond to anything those fools do that goes too far.”

Jean-Louis laughed, shaking his head. “We were once those fools.”

“No…we were never as foolish at they are. We’re still picking up chemicals in the water from their last bloody war.”

“I’m still surprised Jules and Dr. Brown are not part of the group moving to Atlantis,” said Jean-Louis after a few seconds of silence.

“I am too. Dr. Brown said they talked about it.”

“But you told him we would be setting out for a site for the next city.”

“He really is like his father. Always looking for the next adventure.”

“His father says he worse.”

Gustave laughed. “But he does have an instinct for it.”

“There’s Captain Mitchell.”

“She’s carrying her satchel. They must be ready to set off.”

They watched the two vessels prepare for launch, hatches sealed and engines idling bringing them up to operating temperature. Slowly, the Arcadia backed out of the dock then submerged to exit the dock doors. The Elysium moved next, slowly, easing from the dock, then it submerged to exit the dock. Jean-Louis put a hand on Gustave’s shoulder and gently squeezed.

“Come on Gustave, let’s go. It’s time to call it a day.”

Gustave led Jean-Louis to their suite, the same one they had lived in since first setting up in the city. It overlooked the park in the middle of the main first section, now one of the smallest of the four hubs, each with a park inside it. Their suite was over a restaurant, one of the first to set up in the city, and they went past the open front where the smell of fish and seaweed was cooking. Gustave went past the elevator to the stairs with Jean-Louis right behind him. They entered their suite going straight to their bedroom. It had been three days since they had been intimate. Three long days of final preparations before the Poseidon and Arcadia set off. When they moved past the mirror, Gustave glanced into it, still shocked to think he was eighty. And Jean-Louis was seventy-eight. For anyone up top, that was an age when a person was losing their stamina and strength. But four years after moving into Taimat, there had been the first discovery, then two years later, another and suddenly everyone was on a supplement that slowed the aging process, and more importantly, boosted the immune system and its ability to fight off illness. Gustave didn’t understand all the medical science, but he understood its effects. He looked in his fifties, if that old, and still felt like he was a man in his thirties. And Jean-Louis seemed even fitter. Still a muscular man with few wrinkles. A man who could give him the greatest pleasure, one intimate, erotic, and satisfying.

They stripped before each other and fell on the bed, giggling like young lovers, then they kissed and touched and caressed until Gustave was on his back with Jean-Louis on top pushing cock into his depths. They were horny, wanting after so long with sex, and their fuck grew physical as only two men could be. Gustave clung to Jean-Louis, urged him to fuck harder, while taking every thrust, every push into his depths until his own cock drooled on his abdomen.

Jean-Louis moved with such strength that it made Gustave gasp for air. The body flexed and glistened with sweat. It revealed every muscle as it moved over him.

“Fuck…Jean-Louis…”

Gustave rolled Jean-Louis to his back, and he straddled him, cock still buried in inside him, and he ground his ass down on it then began to move up and down. Hands rested on his thighs, kneaded the flexing muscle while he moved faster, rougher, until his own cock was smacking down on Jean-Louis’ abdomen. A hand took his cock and roughly stroked it as he kept moving. It was the way he got off the most intense. And like all the times before, he shuddered, jerked, then erupted, shooting a thick rope of cum up Jean-Louis’ chest. He shuddered with every ejaculation, spraying more cum on Jean-Louis until finally spent.

With cock slimy and drooling its last drop of cum, he leaned back and pumped his ass up and down faster and faster until Jean-Louis cried out and pushed down on his thighs, forcing his ass down on the spurting cock.

 

Translated from the Greek newspaper Atlantis.

24 March 1951

Crew of Cargo Ship claim Manta Rays can fly.

Several crew members of the cargo shop Evgenia, while sailing up the eastern coast of Canada, claim they saw a massive Manta Ray leap out of the ocean and disappear into the sky. One of the deck crew claimed the Manta Ray was over eight meters wide.

“It leaped from the water almost straight up, then it angled down a bit and flew upward at about a forty-five-degree angle until lost in the clouds.”

When pressed on the fact Manta Rays cannot fly, the crewman said he knew that most did not fly, but this one did so.

 

Chapter 4 

Jules climbed down from the Oceanus; the submarine he had been captain of for the last fifteen years. He had only been thirty-seven years old, but due to their diet and medical care, had looked younger. He saw his reflection in the glass as he approached the door to the corridor that led to the main comms room and saw a man who looked late twenties. He smiled, because the image matched how he felt. Young and vibrant, ready to tackle anything. He glanced back and saw Albert climbing down from the submarine. He looked closer to his age. Albert turned sixty-five last month and the change in diet and their medical care seemed to be slowing the aging process, but not as much as those born in the habitat. Albert eased down onto the docks and Jules noted how he looked like a fit early-fifties, with greying temples. And Jules loved him, so much it made him feel breathless.

Jules went straight to the comms room where he found Jean-Louis at a monitor to the new computation system their scientists had developed. The image looked primitive, but the data files it could sort quickly made it an invaluable tool. Jean-Louis was ninety-one but looked in his sixties. A lean build, head shaved smooth, and always a smile, either playful or mischievous depending on the situation.

“What’s up?” asked Jules as he took a seat behind Jean-Louis.

“There is a situation in China that has us worried.”

“China?”

“Yes, China,” said Gustave, coming into the room. Jules turned to see the one referred to as First Citizen come into the room with a quick step and a worried look on his face. He was ninety-three years old but looked as young as Jean-Louis.

“And what has us worried?”

Jean-Louis turned from the monitor as Gustave sat next to Jules. He picked up a file, flipping to the back of it.

“Two years ago, a young scientist by the name of Tsien Chen-Ning published a paper on quantum mechanics that his superiors considered outlandish. It was filed away and summarily forgotten until four months ago when a paper out of Germany made a hypothesis that came to the attention of the scientists back in China.”

“The paper suddenly made sense?” said Jules.

“Enough so to make the authorities go in search of it,” said Gustave.

“But they can’t find it.”

“That is correct. They can’t find it,” said Jean-Louis. “We don’t know the details of the paper or how it got misplaced. Some scientists in China think Tsien retrieved it.”

“Did he?”

“We don’t know, but Tsien has gone into hiding. It seems, from the letters we’ve intercepted, that his hypothesis, if accurate, could be used to make a bomb that makes the atomic bomb seem trivial.”

“I take it he had other ideas on how his hypothesis should be used,” said Gustave, turning to Jules, “and didn’t want his paper back into the hands of his government.”

“And we’re talking about this because we want to find the paper?” said Jules.

“No,” said Jean-Louis, “we want to find Tsien. My hunch is the paper is on him or kept close at hand, or best-case scenario, he memorized it then destroyed it.”

“How are we going to find him. China is like one of the most populated countries on the planet; is it not?”

“We have intel that leads us to think he might be in Haikou on the north side of Hainan Island.”

“He’s from Haikou?”

“No, but there were notes in his writings about going there during his university days. We think it was to meet someone.”

“Wouldn’t the authorities think to look there?”

“Maybe…maybe not,” said Gustave.

“And how will we find him?”

“We won’t. He’ll come to us.”

“Huh?”

Gustave smiled. “We’ll put word out among the locals in the areas we know he visited back in the thirties and when we finally arrive, hopefully he’ll be waiting for us.”

“And I’m to sail for Hainan in hast.”

“Not exactly.”

Jules saw the look that passed between Gustave and Jean-Louis. Jean-Louis pulled up a drawing for some new vessel, one Jules had seen them pouring over from time to time. He saw it was similar to the Oceanus in some ways.

“I’ve seen the two of you going over these plans for three, four years now. What is it?”

“First, it’s been six years, but it is a vessel capable of moving through the water faster than any of the current submarines and it can…”  Gustave hesitated, letting the tension build.

“It can do what? Fly?” Jules joked, laughing loudly. Then he saw Gustave and Jean-Louis were not laughing and he fell silent. “No; you’re kidding me.”

“No, we’re not. It can fly.”

“It can go from underwater to the air?”

“Yep.”

“It must be slow then.”

“Quite the contrary,” said Jean-Louis. “It’s faster than anything the Americans are testing.”

“And you have guys ready to fly that thing?”

“Yes. It has a crew of four for flying.”

“How long will it take to get to Hainan?”

“Nine, nine and half hours.”

“Damn. I knew you guys were testing something interesting because Charlie has been giddy with excitement for months. And when do we take off or whatever it does. And what did you name it?”

“Nemesis,” Gustave and Jean-Louis replied in unison, making Jules laugh.

“Tomorrow. The detail on the ground started putting the word out last week, so if Tsien is there, we should know something soon. You’ll take the Nemesis to Hainan and position yourself a few miles off the coast to the east and wait for word,” said Gustave.

 

Gustave and Jean-Louis stood at the window of the observation deck watching their newest craft be prepared for launch. The last to board had been Jules, carrying the latest intel from China. There had been no direct communication from Tsien but a local had told them he wanted to talk. They were not sure if it was a reliable intel, but they were going to risk it. They sensed it was imperative Tsien be retrieved. Gustave and Jean-Louis were hopeful they could extract him. It was the humanitarian thing to do and for them, an opportunity to gain some quantum mechanics insight that their scientists were struggling to work out, plus they did not want the research to fall into the wrong hands.

“This is exciting,” said Jean-Louis.

“Yes. More exciting in some ways that getting Atlantis finished,” said Gustave, referring to their second habitat, the one about twelve hundred miles off the western coast of Morrocco. They had started it just prior to World War II, and with all the wartime activity, put the construction on the guyot on hold upon completion of the first phase until after Germany surrendered and the Atlantic finally settled down. It was in 1948 when they got the second phase completed. Three years later, they were doing another expansion of the habitat.

They watched the Nemesis ease along the dock then submerge to pass through the gates to the open ocean. A few bubbles, then the water calmed to a smooth slick surface.

“We’re on mission,” said Jean-Louis.

“Yes, let’s get to comm.”

 

Charles Auchter and Ryan MacGregor piloted the Nemesis through the dark waters, slowly climbing toward the surface. Charles was native to Tiamat and knew the underworld of the North Atlantic better than anyone except for his captain, Jules Chevalier. Ryan was a rescue, a pilot shot down at sea during World War II. Ryan looked back at Jules and Dr. Brown, going over the plans once again. He knew by the time they arrived at Hainan Island Jules would have memorized them.

“Okay, we’re ready to accelerate for initial launch into the air,” said Charles.

“Everyone buckled in?” said Ryan.

“Yes,” replied Jules and Dr. Brown.

The craft angled upward until almost going straight up. It accelerated until the view ahead was blurring around the eye’s perimeter.

“In 5, 4, 3, 2, 1,” said Charles, and the craft exploded out of the water, rising high in the sky.

“Air intakes open,” yelled Ryan, an urgency in his voice.

“Engines online and building thrust,” Charles replied.

The craft slowed its ascent, the nose beginning to angle downward when the thrust of the engines took over pushing them back into a climb. The Nemesis accelerated hard, keeping everyone pinned in their seats, then it began to level off as the g-forces decreased.

“Switching to rapid air mode,” said Ryan.

The sound of the engines changed and once again they were accelerating rapidly while climbing even higher.

“20,000 feet,” uttered Charles. The pressurization of the cabin increased. The Nemesis kept climbing until the clouds were far below them.

“50,000 feet.”

“60,000 feet.”

“70,000 feet and leveling off.”

“Charlie, how fast will this thing go? Gustave was tight lipped about it,” said Jules.

“He was tight lipped because this flying beast is capable of flying faster than what we thought it could do. We’re doing a little over Mach 4. A bit over 4,800 kilometers an hour.”

“Dear God, are there no limits?” said Dr. Brown, shaking his head.

 

Their flight path took them over Northern Canada then south along the western Pacific, until south of Japan they curved back to the west heading toward Hainan.

“We’ll put down in the South China Sea about a hundred miles off the coast then ease in close,” said Ryan.

“The Griffin is ready for launch so as soon as we’re in position, you can go,” said Charles, referring to the small submarine used for reconnaissance and rescue that was stowed in the mid-cargo hold. It’s shape, mimicking a string ray allowed for maneuvering in shallow waters.

The Nemesis was piloted between Taiwan and the Philippines coming out over the South China Sea. They maintained a southernly path until near the Pracel Islands where they swung around heading north-northwest, toward the eastern side of Hainan. It was nighttime over the region, and they used the darkness to fly in close before touching down about forty-five miles east of Haikou, just north of a small group of islands.

Charles brought the craft to a depth of 800 meters and stabilized it for stationary positioning. Ryan checked the status of the Nemesis, then opened the hatch on the underside.

“I’m lowering the Griffin.”

“Our contact in Haikou radioed they were ready,” said Jules.

“The rendezvous point still good?” said Albert.

“Yes, about a half kilometer from Mulantou.”

“That cuts down on the distance you have to go,” said Ryan.

“Yes, and in the open water it’ll be easier to see if he has been followed.”

“It’ll be light in four hours, so best get going,” said Albert.

Jules smiled at Albert, then leaned over, and kissed him quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

 

The Griffin was fast and nimble, and Jules took advantage of his capabilities, pushing it hard. He would be at the rendezvous point in less than forty-five minutes, plenty of time to make contact, make sure Tsien Chen-Ning wasn’t followed. He moved through the dark waters using their infrared night vision system to avoid detection by any fishing trawler or security forces patrolling the area. He replayed the conversations with scientists back at Tiamat, conversations that quickly found him lost as to what they were talking about. References to time and space as constructs, of fields like fabric, and some notions of dimensional space and possibilities of extra dimensions. By the time he was running the checklist of what to do at the rendezvous point, he was approaching it.

A scan showed no other ships, submarines, or planes in the immediate area. All he found was a small boat moving in a slow small circle. He drew near, coming up just outside its circular path then falling in next to it. He set the automatic pilot and climbed topside looking over at the two shocked men in the small boat.

“Tsien? Tsien Chen-Ning?”

“Yes, that is I,” said the oldest of the two men, coming to his feet unsteadily. “Are you Captain Chevalier?”

“Yes, I’ve come to rescue you.”

Jules pulled out his handheld control unit and eased the Griffin closer to the ship until less than a foot separated them. He moved to the side to help Tsien step over, then guided him back to the top of the Griffin near the hatch.

Tsien said something in Mandarin to the man in the boat who bowed slightly then pulled away, heading back to the mainland.

“Can we trust him not to say something?” said Jules.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“He was my lover in university.” It was spoken defiantly, as if Tsien dared him to comment.

Jules smiled, then chuckled. Then he grew serious. “Why didn’t he come with us?”

“He is married with family.”

“Oh.”

Jules led Tsien into the Griffin, got him buckled in, then swung the craft around and dove, on a course for the Nemesis.

 

Chapter 5

“…Typhoon Gay has rapidly…intensity…120 km/h…swells of…meters—”

The radio turned to static, white noise drowned out by the howling wind tossing the fishing trawler. The Chalaam was a small trawler, at only 13 meters in length, and it was being tossed and rocked until the crew knew they would soon be sunk. The typhoon had gotten on top of them so quickly they were unprepared. Jirapat, the captain, had taken them further out than normal looking for a good catch, and now the crew could see the panic in his eyes, as he tried to maneuver the trawler into the waves to keep from being rolled over.

Nattapong, the youngest of the crew, had been on board since he was fourteen after losing his parents. He was now nineteen and wondering if his life would end at such a young age. He tried to help one of the others secure the deck as waves were washing over it.

“The captain has brought us to hell,” one of the men yelled over the howling winds.

Nattapong thought of drowning and how someone could compare it to hell. But he was just as terrified as if the sea were a lake of fire, so maybe the description wasn’t far from the truth. He looked toward the bow in time to see the swell coming toward them. It towered over the small boat, a wall of water of incomprehensible size, and he knew the trawler could not withstand it. He stood straight and closed his eyes, determined to meet his fate like a man.

 

Captain Omar Al-Batma came into steering with a grim look on his face. He moved to the monitor table, the mapping image backlit with a soft green hue, and saw the locations of all nearby ships. He looked over at his First Officer, Eska Williams, a man he had considered far too young when they first shipped off together. Eska had been born of the sea, in 1980 at Atlantis. When their third city, Olokun, opened in 1979 his family moved from Atlantis to it the following year. Eska’s father was a research scientist, one who went on missions to collect samples, study the ecosystem of an underwater region, or seek the next discovery for medicine. As soon as Eska turned eight he was going on missions with his father. He learned how to handle a Stingray class vessel by ten, and was helping navigate the Aaglu, their fastest submarine used for long range missions, by the time he was sixteen.

Omar was from Morrocco, the son of an engineer, and when he had been ten years old, his family had been brought to Atlantis. What seemed so natural to Eska had been a struggle for him. To be confined in the smaller vessels had been a nightmare, his claustrophobia getting the best of him. When he turned twenty, Tiamat had sent a new drug treatment, one that helped him work through his phobia and allowed him to pursue his dream of navigation. He worked his way up through the ranks, until captain of his own vessel, the Aaglu which brought him to the fourth and last city to be built, Taniwha near Bora Bora and French Polynesia.

As the submarine moved smoothly through the turbulent shallow waters of the Gulf of Thailand, he came to the head of the monitor capturing everyone’s attention.

“As you know a typhoon has formed in the gulf. It has strengthened and is now heading toward land, probably Chumphon Providence. The winds are 120 km/h and the swells are…it will be devasting to the shoreline.”

“But we’re safe,” said Rachel, in charge of monitoring their engines and tanks.

“Yes, but these waters are only 190 feet or so in depth and because of our size, we could be easily spotted during rescue missions topside.”

“So, we are cutting our mission short and heading back to Taniwha.” said Eska.

“Yes. We’re to turn and head back, post-haste.”

One of the crew from the radio room came rushing in. “Captain, we have a fishing trawler sinking just off our starboard side, not more than a three hundred meters away.”

“Damn,” Omar uttered, then he looked over at Eska, knowing what the young man was going to say.

“We have to go save any survivors.”

 

Eska navigated the Kaitiaki from the Aaglu, a small Stingray class sub. He swung out from under the large submarine, rising quickly to meet the sinking trawler.

“Status?” exclaimed Eska in his comm.

“The ship just went down.”

“Roger that.”

Eska brought the sub’s lights to full intensity because the darkened skies made the waters too see very far, almost as dark as if it were night. He moved toward the sinking trawler looking for any signs of life. He found drowned crew sinking along with the trawler and began to think there were none. Then he picked up a warm body, one struggling to say on the surface. He maneuvered toward it, rising from underneath the struggling man.

 

Nattapong found himself on the surface and he worked his legs and arms trying to keep his head up. The fishing trawler was gone, and he saw none of his fellow crew. He rose and fell with the swells until his legs were tiring out and he knew he would drown too. He tilted his head back and took a deep breath and began to sink.

Just as his head went under his feet landed on something hard and smooth. He rose until he had to sit as the metal submarine surfaced. He had seen pictures of small submarines but none like the one beneath him, shaped like a stingray, even with a long tail. A hatched opened and he didn’t know who to expect, but not the young blonde headed man climbing up.

“Do you speak English?”

Nattapong knew a few words, enough to shake his head in the negative. The young man held out a hand and he took it, letting himself be guided into the submarine. He followed the man down a couple of rungs of a short ladder and stood in a cramped space.

“Sit here,” the young said, gesturing toward a seat just behind the one for controlling the sub.

Nattapong moved to the seat and the young man took the one in front. The hatch closed and he could hear it lock in place, and they were soon moving downward, beneath the stormy waters. They didn’t go far, and he saw sections of a large submarine in their lights. They moved along a section of its length, then swung over one side and underneath, where they moved up through an open hatch. They surfaced in a large room and Nattapong saw a larger submarine docked in front of them, one twice the size.

“Let’s get out,” said the young man, Nattapong catching the word ‘out’ just as the hatch unlatched and swung open. He got to his feet and climbed up onto the top of the submarine where a man and a woman were waiting. The young man came by him and stepped onto the dock, then turned holding out a hand. He took it and stepped nervously onto the dock.

“I think he is unharmed but why don’t you check him out anyway,” said the young man, Nattapong understanding none of the words. “Who’s on board that can speak Thia?” This time Nattapong understood enough to know what was said, the question for someone who can speak his language.

The woman spoke to the young man, then turned to him and spoke in his native language.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“We would like to take you to our medical bay and just make sure. Would you come with us to do that?”

“Yes…what about my crew?”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, confirming what he feared.  “I’m Dr. Haruka Saito.”

“You’re Japanese?”

“Yes. My parents were from Japan, but I was born at Taniwha.”

“Tan-e-ha?”

“I’ll explain while we check you out. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Can I ask what your name is?”

“Nattapong Anurak, but you can call me Perth.”

“Perth; I like that. Now let’s get you checked out.”

 

Perth followed the woman with the two men behind him, they went down a corridor to an elevator. He was shocked to see one in a submarine. It took them up, two floors, and he was soon passing crew quarters, crew’s mess, and a lounge area before coming to the sick bay.

“Perth, here is a gown to put on. Just go behind that curtain and get out of your wet clothes. After we check you out, we’ll get you cleaned up and into dry clothes.”

Perth smiled for the first time, but it was weak and filled with sadness, for his crew was gone leaving him with no one. He didn’t know what would happen to him but he feared his life was going to get worse.

 

Perth sat on the exam table with Dr. Saito listening to his breathing, first from his chest, now from his back. He breathed in deeply and let it out slowly.

“Good, your lungs are clear.”

“I didn’t go under. That young man came under me before I went down.”

“That is Eska.”

“Es-ka?”

“That’s right.”

“And he can pilot the submarines?”

“Oh yeah, he was doing it as a little kid. His father was a scientist who went out on missions taking Eska with him.”

A man came in carrying clean clothes. He looked Thia or Vietnamese with jet black hair cut short and dark brown eyes. Dr. Saito turned to him.

“Bank, good, you can help Perth with where he can get cleaned up. Then bring him to the bridge where we can discuss what to do next.”

“You’re Thia?” asked Perth.

“My grandparents immigrated to the United States from Songkhla. I was born in San Diego but twelve years ago I found myself at Olokun and last year I transferred to Taniwha.”

“I’ve never heard of these places.”

“If you want, you might get to see them.”

“Bank let’s see what Perth wants to do first before we go making promises,” said Dr. Saito.

 

Perth stood by the monitoring table that sat in the middle of the bridge. In front of him stood the captain and Dr. Saito. Next to him stood Bank and the young man, Eska, who saved him. Beyond the captain, he could see out the large windows at the underworld of the Gulf of Thailand, a place he had only imagined, only ever moving over its surface in the past.

“Perth, you have no family?” said Dr. Saito.

“Only the crew of the Chalaam and…they’re…gone.”

“Perth, we need to leave so we’re not discovered. You understand?”

“Yes. And you’ll take me with you? To this place under the water?”

“Yes, we don’t want to risk being discovered and we’re offering you a better life.”

“Perth, you’ll not live in poverty,” said Bank.

Perth looked around him, feeling overwhelmed. Could he live like this? Could he fit in, find some useful purpose that would let these people accept him as one of their own? He looked at Bank, educated, fluent in English and Thai, and from what the doctor had said, Bank knew two other languages. Could he ever be like Bank?

Perth looked out the windows just as whale moved around the front. He gasped, then turned to the others for confirmation he wasn’t seeing things.

“A Omura’s whale,” said Bank. “A rare sight.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Perth, wanting to be a part of this underwater world.

 

After nearly a week of maneuvering through the South China Sea, the Philippine Sea, and the Pacific Ocean until near French Polynesia, the Aaglu swung around an underwater mountain and came to the fourth city of Taniwha. Lights came on revealing its expanse. Perth stood at the windows looking at the massive structures clinging to the side of the mountain, curved to match it.

“The other cities are built on guyots, mountains with flat tops, but the ones in this region are a bit too close to the surface, so Taniwha is built on the side of this mountain,” said Bank who had come up next to him.

“It’s beautiful,” uttered Perth.

“All four of the cities are beautiful.”

“You’ve been to all of them?”

“Oh, yes, several times.”

“Where are they located?”

“Olokun is in the north Pacific east of the northern islands of Japan. Atlantis is west of Morrocco in the Atlantic, and the first city, Tiamat, is north of Bermuda and east of the United States.”

“And all of them are underwater?”

“Yes.”

 

For six months, Perth slowly found his place in Taniwha. He was put through an educational program, teaching him English and history, and giving him aptitude tests. In his free time, he mingled with Bank and his friends hearing how easily they switched from English to Thai to Japanese. He helped the maintenance crew with tending to the central park, the vast arched structure at the center of the city with artificial lighting that allowed for trees, shrubs and flowering plants. He had been surprised to find bees, butterflies and birds within the space, then more surprised to find there were turtles, frogs, and alarmingly, snakes. It was a small biosphere, limited but enough variation to be self-sustaining.

At the end of each day, he went to his personal quarters and stood at the door looking around at the space others called small, knowing it was the largest room he had ever lived in. A room he had to share with no one else. With his parents, they lived in a small one room apartment and when they died in a fire, he found himself living on the fishing trawler in even smaller quarters. Now he had his own bed and a television so that he could play movies pirated from above countries. And down the hall, he saw the young blonde headed guy, Eska coming and going.

Eska would be gone for days, even weeks at a time, then he would show up and be around the living quarters for a few days. Every time he passed Eska in the hall he looked up at the taller man letting himself think of it. Despite the way others described Eska as too young, Perth knew he was twenty-nine, soon to be thirty. Ten years older with a lean muscular build, like most other men in the city. He wondered if it was their diet. He looked at himself in the mirror and thought of the skinny kid that had arrived six months ago, 167 cm in height and weighing less than fifty kilos. But flexing his arms, he saw there was some new strength in his body, and with the change in his diet and the work out routine Bank had him doing, he knew he was putting on some weight, mostly muscle. If only he could build up his confidence as easily.

In the evenings, he would spend most going over his English lessons, determined to master the confusing language. At times it made no sense. But he found himself slowly increasing his vocabulary, adding new words every few days, stringing them into sentences.

 

One day after finishing his classes, he stood at the window of the lounge looking out into the waters with fish swimming by, drawn to the light, while thinking of Thailand and the docks that was home to him. Did anyone miss him, knowing the truth. No one would miss him or most of the crew. Only the captain and one other crew member had had a family. The Chalaam was on the bottom of the Gulf of Thailand where it would stay undisturbed for no one would care.

He wanted to feel sadden by it. How he had been brought to a new city, never to return to his homeland. Bank said he couldn’t even visit, for once someone became a resident of one of the four cities, they could not return to the surface, for it risked revealing their existence. But there was nothing in Thailand for him to return to, so it was a small thing to ask of him.

“Hey Perth, you want to go out on a short mission?” said Bank, leaning around the door frame.

“Seriously, I can go out with you guys?”

“Yes. They said you’ve been holed up inside too long and need to get out.”

“I’d like that.”

“Be at the dock at 0700 in the morning. We’re going to swing down the ridgeline from Neiafu down to below Tonga.”

“Why?”

“One of the scientists found a species of starfish with some unique properties that might lead to another medical treatment. He wants us to find a few of them and extract some samples from them. I don’t know the details. I just know it is an excuse to go out.”

 

At 0645, Perth was sitting on a crate looking at the docked vessels. The Aaglu wasn’t among them, but there was the Sama, Ca-map, and Whaitere sitting in dock. The submarines still awed him. They were enormous, larger than any ship he had ever seen up close. Bank told him they were called the Orca class. He wondered which one they would go out on. He saw two men and a woman going to one of the smaller craft, one of the Manta Ray class submarines, that only had a crew of fifteen and just beyond them the Stingray class, submarines even smaller, with a crew of only seven. He had learned the submarine Eska used to rescue him was a Skate class submarine, used for short runs from one of the Orca class submarines.

He watched the three people load something on one of the Stingray class submarines. Maybe they were going to run around the local underwater mountains. Missions to tend to their fish farms and seaweed fields or to do more detailed exploration.

“Hey Perth, you ready to go?” said Bank.

Perth turned to see Bank and four other men come out to the dock. Then he saw Eska come out of the door carrying a backpack. Eska would be part of the crew, and it made Perth feel breathless.

“Yes.”

Perth got to his feet, picked up his backpack and fell in behind Bank and the other four men. As they made their way out toward the submarines, he sensed Eska behind him, eventually close enough he could hear him take a breath or move in some way that made a sound. He knew they were not going on one of the Orca class submarines, but he was shocked to see them pass the Manta Ray class heading toward the Stingray class.

“We going in one of those? For over a week?”

“Yep,” said Eska from behind him.

They walked past the Kawako and Pania until standing at the Adaro, the submarine where the three people had been loading boxes. Bank stepped to one side allowing Eska to board. He turned to Perth and motioned toward the others.

“Perth, this is our crew. Roger and Kenji will be monitoring radar, Akio is support and medical, and Joaquin is our scientist who understands what we’re going out there to do. I’ll be Eska’s backup in steering and you’ll be our errand boy, helping where needed. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Let’s get aboard and settled in. It will be a bit cramped, so stow away anything not in use.”

There were three sleeping berths, two beds in bunk bed configuration in two and three beds in the third, two in bunk configuration and one over a desk. Bank and Akio took the first berth, Roger, Kenji and Joaquin took the last one, leaving Perth the second one, one he would have to share with Eska. His heart raced with anticipation and fear as he stowed his backpack. He would have to watch how he looked at Eska, knowing he could reveal his attraction to the man.

Why he feared letting Eska, or anyone else for that matter, know he was attracted to men, Eska in particular, he did not know. He had seen same sex couples all over the city. It was a natural part of their society, Bank had explained when he built up the courage to ask. But he still felt an outsider, a stowaway, and he feared if he were to upset someone he might be asked to leave, despite reassurances from Bank no harm would come to him.

The submarine was only one level, but steering was three steps down from the main bridge area, allowing everyone to look over Eska and Bank as they maneuvered out of the docking bay and submerged to exit through the gates. With the front windows starting over the bridge and curving down to below the knees of Eska and Bank, the view forward was expansive, almost too much for Perth, for it felt unsafe in some manner.

Perth stood between Joaquin and Kenji watching as they left the city and moved out into the open ocean. He looked down at Eska, the blonde head moving back and forth, checking instruments while make course corrections. He found himself looking at Eska once again in ways that made him feel different. During his time on the Chalaam, he never felt tempted, none of the crew capturing his eye in the same way. After a few minutes he turned and saw Kenji smiling at him, shaking his head.

“What?” said Perth.

“Nothing,” Kenji replied, smiling more broadly.

“Okay guys, get settled in. We have a about 37 hours of steady cruising before we get to our destination,” said Bank.

Perth hesitated to step away from the monitor as the others pulled back and went to their berths. Bank glanced back and winked at Perth.

“Go rest up. There will be plenty to do when we get near Neiafu.”

 

For the next 37 hours, Perth seemed to cross paths with Eska every time he tried to move on the small submarine. He went to the kitchenette that lined the narrow corridor that went from the bridge to engineering at the rear of the submarine, he had to push up against the wall to let Eska pass on the way to the small toilet just past the kitchenette. He pulled his backpack out of the stowage to get the English language novel he was reading, and had to lean toward the wall to let Eska get to his bunk to take a nap.

After twenty-four hours, he had to stretch his legs. He went to the bridge to use the fold down treadmill. He had thought it silly to have one on the bridge. But after twenty-four hours on board, it seemed like a necessity. He started out slow, just warming up his legs as he watched the monitor in front of him showing different camera angles from the front of the submarine. When his legs felt loose, he increased the incline and speed. Soon he was running, legs moving rapidly. He ran until his breathing was labored and his shirt soaked with sweat, then he slowed the treadmill until he was just walking, cooling down before getting off.

He hit the stop button and stepped back, tripping. He fell backward but instead of hitting the floor, someone caught him. He turned and felt his face flush hot. It was Eska waiting for him to finish, ready to take a turn on it. Shirtless revealing the muscular upper body, Perth just stared up at Eska.

“You okay?” said Eska.

“Yes, yes,” said Perth. He stood up and stepped back until the monitor table was against his back and he watched Eska get on the treadmill. After a warmup, Eska was jogging, then after a few minutes, sped up until running in place. Perth watched the back flex with the movement of the arms and sweat bead up on the skin.

“What are you doing?”

Perth jerked around to Kenji leaning on the Monitor watching him watch Eska.

“Nothing.”

“Huh-uh,” Kenji replied, then pushed back and headed back to his berth.

Perth followed Kenji down the narrow corridor to the second berth and he grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the small shower. He didn’t know how the system worked, but knew it brought in sea water, purified it, ran it through the submarine’s plumbing, then ran it through a second purification, putting the sea salt extracted back into it before circulating it back into the ocean. It seemed superfluous all the recycling and purification, but it allowed the submarines to operate without having to carry a lot of water, a dead weight that affected its performance. And for those bathing, the luxury of a long hot shower.

When he finally emerged, wearing just boxers, Eska was standing in the corridor waiting.

“Do you feel better?” said Eska.

“Yes.”

“Nothing like a hot shower after working out.”

Eska leaned against the wall to let Perth pass, and once at the door to his berth, Perth looked back to bath door closing. If only he could sneak the door open and peek in.

 

They arrived at their starting point and for three days slowly made their way south, working up and down the side of the ridgeline. By the time they were due east of Tonga, they had the samples they needed.

“Okay, guys, let’s head home,” said Eska climbing out of steering to let Bank take over for he had been in steering for over eight hours. “I’m going to take a shower and grab some sleep.”

A few minutes later, Perth found himself in his bunk reading while Eska slept below him. It amazed him how easily Eska could drift off, within minutes of laying down. Despite the distraction that lay below him, he made himself focus on his book until once again captured by its story. How long he read, he wasn’t sure but when he heard Eska stir he had to stop. He listened wondering if Eska was awake. He lay the book on his stomach and leaned over to look down at the sleeping form. The blanket was pushed down until he could see the waistband of the blue boxers. He looked from the narrow waist up the flat stomach to the chest. He looked at the nipples and the pecs, then up to the hollow spot below the neck, then he looked further upward until he found Eska staring back.

“Do you like what you see?” whispered Eska.

“What? No, no; I was just—”

“Okay, but it’s okay if you did.”

Perth was speechless, not sure how to respond to someone who looked like Eska. Could Eska really like him in that way? He fell back on his bunk and stared up at the ceiling wondering if maybe it was all just a joke, that Eska was just messing with him. He sat up and leaned over to look down again. Eska had the blanket pushed to the foot of bed and was totally exposed. The blue boxers were tossed on the floor, leaving Eska completely naked. The cock lay heavily over the abdomen and for far too long Perth couldn’t take his eyes off it. He finally scanned up the tall lean muscular body until staring into the blue eyes. They were so vivid blue, and he wondered if he had noticed before. Then he saw the smile. One gentle and unassuming.

“Perth, climb down.”

It was whispered, barely loud enough to hear, but the tone was commanding. Perth swung his legs over the side of the bunk and instead of climbing down the ladder, he dropped to the floor coming into a squat position. He dropped to his knees and moved up close to the bed.

“You’re not going to make fun of me?” uttered Perth.

“What? No. I wouldn’t do that,” said Eska, as he reached out and touched Perth on the chest.

 Despite the T-shirt, the touch made Perth’s heart race. The hand moved up and down in a soft rubbing motion, then it moved up to the neck and as Eska sat up the hand cupped the back of the neck and pulled them into a kiss.

When Eska pulled back he stared into Perth’s eyes, making him feel his face flush hot.

“Perth, take off your clothes.”

Perth pulled his shirt over his head, then he stood and slipped off his boxers revealing a cock getting erect. It angled out half hard. Eska reached out and fondled it, tugged on it, making Perth shiver. Then Eska moved over on his bunk and Perth didn’t have to be told what to do. He eased down next to the taller man and ran his hand over the firm muscular chest, over the hardening nipples, and up the neck to the chin where he felt the stubble coming in, so blonde as to be hardly noticeable.

“You’re so attractive,” Perth uttered aloud, then turned red at the realization he had done so.

“So are you,” said Perth.

Perth smiled. Others in the city had said so, but coming from Perth it meant something. He moved upward and kissed Eska while climbing on top of him. He rubbed his cock alongside Eska’s. He undulated and moved over the muscular body until both were fully erect. He sat up as much as he could in the tight bunk and worked his ass over Eska’s cock.

“Fuck,” Eska uttered.

It was just an exclamation, but it was what Perth wanted more than anything in the world. To feel Eska inside him. To feel what it was like to have a man enter him. To take a man’s fuck.

Perth raised his ass and felt Eska tap it with the hard cock then hold it against his tight opening. He pushed down on it, slowly, feeling his stretch to take it. He moaned and shivered as the flared head pushed through his tightness. He shuddered at the feel of the cock slipping into him. The way it gave him a fullness of penetration and he kept pushing down until seated on Eska, the cock buried in his ass. He moaned with pleasure then leaned down and kissed him, passionately, without inhibition. He raised his ass until the cock nearly slipped free, then eased back down all the way. He kept it up until in a fuck, working his ass on that cock until his own drooled on Eska’s abdomen. Hands took his narrow ass and guided him in a slower pace.

Eska sat up, bearhugged him, then rolled him to his back. He held his legs up, feet pressed to the upper bunk as Eska began to fuck. He felt the strength of the body as it pumped cock into his depths, faster and faster, until the hips smacked against his upturned ass.

“Don’t stop,” Perth uttered. “Please don’t stop.”

And Eska didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, just kept fucking until his body glistened with sweat and he was breathing hard. Then he took each leg behind the knee and folded Perth in half and lay on top of him, grinding hips against ass while slow fucking it.

Perth tilted his head back and closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of their fuck. The way the cock moved inside him. The heat and slick smooth feel of the body against his own. His own cock so hard he was ready to come. Then Eska rose on his hands and began to fuck harder, faster, shoving cock into his depths and hammering hips against his ass. He clutched the headboard and pushed his ass to take every thrust not wanting it to stop. Then he came. It shuddered him, made him jerk with every ejaculation, spraying cum over his face and chest. Eska kept fucking and he relished the feel of the cock working through his ass as it spasm with his release. Then Eska cried out, shoved into him roughly and shuddered with release.

 

They shared a shower stall where they bathed each other. Hands moved over the other as they kissed. Before long they were erect. Perth leaned against the wall bracing with his hands as Eska entered him again. He held his head down and moaned as Eska pushed inward all the way and kissed the back of neck.

“I wondered how long it would take to get you to come out of your shell,” whispered Eska.

Perth smiled then moaned as he pushed back to take Eska, never wanting it to stop.

 

Chapter 6

General Irving stood in the small park to the north of the United Nations complex listening to someone from the White House spout nonsense until he was tempted to just hang up on them. He looked at the traffic on United Nations Plaza ease past wondering if everyone would be so calm if they knew what was going on. He looked at his watch again, seeing only two minutes had passed since he last check it, wondering when the idiot on the phone would stop trying to cover his ass before anything became public. It was fucking insane.

He had been in the military for over thirty-six years and never had he felt so unmoored. It was as if the very ground moved under his feet.

“Yes, yes, whatever, but you do know—”

The asshole cut him off again, rambling on about national security as if he didn’t understand the implications.

“I have to go,” he uttered and abruptly ended the call. He took a deep breath and headed back inside. In an hour the United Nations would be listening to someone give them a speech. Someone who claimed to live in some underwater city. He thought it was bullshit, for they had never seen such a city, nor after the initial contact when they began a full search. They used satellites, every available submarine, and even sent drones with a new sonar system over the Atlantic. Nothing. Note one structure. They found shipwrecks and natural formations, but no city. It had to be bullshit. But the contact had shown them their power. Revealed secrets they thought were safe, sent data showing where every submarine was located, where every underwater facility the world’s major powers had built to house nuclear weapons. They sent intel on the White House and some of its dealings with foreign leaders and businessmen, showing the depth of their betrayal, thus the lengthy phone calls by some nitwit that knew nothing about what was going on.

Whoever it was, his money was on Britain or maybe the Japanese, for both had been ramping up their military spending and displaying some new tech to show off. But why the secrecy and distraction, claiming to be some new entity no one knew about. It baffled him, for he didn’t know what their long game was. What did they want? It couldn’t be good.

General Irving made his way in the underground passages from the visitor’s services over to headquarters. Their guest was to arrive soon, but how, no one knew. He was sure it would be something they couldn’t control or keep out of the news. It was already a cluster fuck, for three stations had shown up two hours ago wanting to know what was going on. They had been giving heads up and were now sniffing around like a pack of hounds.

He assumed it would be by armored SUV. He took the elevator up to the fifth floor where he could watch the entrance drive in front. Security was tight, extra men all along the perimeter and to one side a row of armored military troop transports, each one with armed soldiers ready for anything. 

Someone walked past holding their cellphone out looking shocked. He heard someone else gasp, then someone else exclaim, what is that? He pulled out his cellphone and opened the web browser. It didn’t take long to see what everyone was on about for every news site was covering it. The shot was below Verrazzano Narrows Bridge out in Lower Bay where something was slowly rising to the surface. He didn’t need to see a ship or a portion of land to know whatever was surfacing was huge. Massive. It broke through the surface of the water, and he saw an image from above by a news station helicopter. It looked like a giant Manta Ray. The span from side to side appeared to be over a thousand feet across. Maybe two thousand.

How had they gotten so close undetected? If they could—

“Goddamn it,” General Irving uttered, while others gasped. The vessel rose out of the water, higher and higher until about a thousand feet in the air. As the water trickled off it, military jets and helicopters flew around it. His phone rang.

“I see it,” he answered. “Yes, it is not one of ours or anyone else’s that we know of.”

He listened to the hysterical person on the phone while trying to think. Then he realized what they were suggesting.

“NO, do not shoot at that thing. It got this close without being detected. We have no idea what it is capable of.”

He listened then heard the people around him going on about something else happening.

“Listen, do not shoot at it. Do you understand? I’ve got to go,” said General Irving and he hung up. He pulled up the newsfeed and saw a small craft had dropped out of the bottom of it and headed straight toward Upper Bay. He watched it swing around Governors Island and follow the East River until past Williamsburg Bridge. It was moving fast, keeping just high enough to clear the bridges.  Around 38th Street, it swung over land, following 1st Avenue. He moved to the window just in time to see the craft come to a stop over the road right at the entrance. It hovered smoothly, barely moving, then eased forward until over the circular drive. It eased down, landing gear extended, allowing it to land. He looked down on the craft, and realized it reminded him of a stingray in plan.

“General, you’re wanted in the General Assembly Hall,” said a young woman in military attire, rushing toward him.

He glanced out the window one last time, seeing a few soldiers following a five civilians heading toward the craft. The welcoming committee was on its way. He grimaced then headed for the door.

 

General Irving stood at the back of the assembly hall listening to the murmurs of the attendees, so much lower than normal. He knew they were anxious about their visitor and what he represented. A representative of a society that lived in the ocean depths and had little or no interaction with the world’s nations. He admired them for their isolation avoiding all the nonsense of the fools who governed most nations, and it was obvious they were more advanced, for the U. S. military had ways of scanning the ocean that should have picked up something if there was a whole city down there, and they had not picked up anything. In his years in the service, he could think of no reports on unidentified sounds or crafts in the ocean.

The room fell silent and General Irving looked up to see a man approach the podium. The man was younger than most representatives in the assembly hall, for he looked mid-forties, maybe late thirties. Did the undersea society not take addressing the United Nations seriously?

“My name is Jules Chevalier, Minister of Tiamat, the first city of our underwater society. I’m here representing our four cities, Tiamat, Atlantis, Olokun, and Taniwha. Tiamat was first settled after its initial phase of construction in 1893, led by our First Citizen, Adrien Gustave Fontaine and his partner, and Second Citizen, Jean-Louis Dolliode Dubois. By separating from the nations of the world, avoiding your wars and conflicts where most of your research appears to be for more devasting ways to kill each other, we progressed with an eye toward a better future. We exceeded your rate of advancement in all fields, none more importantly than in medical research. Contrary to what my hosts coming here believed, I’m not in my early forties. I’m one hundred and twenty-five years old.”

A hushed murmur filled the assembly hall and Jules waited for silence.

“We advanced in water filtration systems, electricity generation and storage, composite materials, and computer technology. We’ve dealt with your pollution and destruction of the oceans, even on how to remove microplastics from the water.”

Jules took a sip of water and grimaced at the taste of impurities.

“I tell you this for we had debated sharing our knowledge with you. Over the last few decades, we have discussed this, wondering if it was not the moral thing to do, and each time, you would demonstrate to us the danger of revealing ourselves. You attack each other for fossil fuels instead of weening yourselves of it. You attack each other over minerals or if someone might have weapons partially equal to your own. So, we kept our security measures in place and our guard up. And I think your militaries will tell you we have succeeded in preventing the detection of our four cities.

“Meanwhile we did research that defied what most of us understand about our universe. The folding of space and lastly, the technology to enter another dimension of it. It has allowed us space travel you can only imagine in your movies and novels. Yes, we’ve gone into space. For a long time we hadn’t even considered doing it, despite some studies on how, then we saw one of you launch a satellite into space, and a little more than ten years later another land on the moon. It gave us hope for your nations. Hope that you would move from your warring ways, but you pulled back on your space exploration and continued hostilities with each other. So, we started our own space program. Many of you are wondering how we accomplished this without detection. First, we didn’t use crude rockets to break out of Earth’s gravity or to travel through space. Secondly, we didn’t set our goals to exploration of the moon, or maybe Mars. In 1976, using the Hurricane Belle as a distraction, we flew into space and launched our first mission. Our spaceship, the Fafnir, explored the solar system for possible habitable locales. There was some promise to some of the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, but none were ideal, as some of you now know. It would take a huge effort to make a place to live, not just a place of habitation. When Fafnir returned in 1978, sixteen months later, we considered further research into the problem of creating a habitat on one of the moons, that is until the following year when our research teams come across a means of shifting from one place in the universe to another that boggled the mind. We ran tests, dug into the calculations and technology, pursuing what at first seemed just a fantasy.

“Two decades passed before we sent out our first test of this new technology. And for the next ten years we tested it, learned how to fine tune our calculations, to go from one space/time location to another without destroying ourselves.”

Jules fell silent, just looking around the room. He took a deep breath; one picked up by the microphone. He straightened up and began to speak again.

“Then we found out about your plans to mine the oceans. To strip their bottoms for minerals, devasting the ecosystems. We couldn’t believe you would even consider such a thing, then we considered the strip mines, your mountain top removal, the tar sands extractions, not to mention the overfishing and agricultural practices that are unsustainable. You were…are killing the earth, far too often for that thing you call money.

“Yes, we don’t have money. We operate our society in a different way, one that we think is fair to all its citizens. We have no wealthy upper class, nor do we have people living in poverty.

“But why am I here before you now? That is the question. I’m here to tell you we’ve had enough and feel it is no longer safe. We know your militaries are making breakthroughs that will soon give you the ability to overcome our security systems and when you do, we can’t trust you to recognize our sovereignty. Based on history, we would be attacked within a couple of years of discovery, if for no other reason than petty greed.

“So, nations of the world, we’re leaving. We have a destination established with crews already there setting up for the arrival of our people. We’ll be where none of you can bother us. Even if you develop the technology to shift through space as we have, the chances of you going to the exact same place are practically zero. You won’t find us. And we, fellow humans, will live our lives in peace and contentment, away from your wars and self-destruction. As to our cities, we have spent the last two years preparing to leave, loading up our vessels with everything we will need, or things we don’t want to leave behind. We are now ready to go, and our four cities are shut down…flooded and closed off.”

Jules waits as the room becomes a white noise of voices. Once everyone falls silent and looks up to him to see what else he has to say, he steps back to the podium.

“I wish you luck, I really do, but we shall not help you. You need to find your own way and with your current system of global markets, a price on everything including your health care and education, we’re afraid you have a long way to go. Some of our scientist even wonder if you’ll make it, telling me you have so many things happening and any one of them could be the thing that makes you go extinct.”

Jules stops, wondering if he has said too much. He is about to tell them it is time for him to go, but he steps back to the microphone.

“We may come back here in the future, and when we do, I hope we find a revitalized earth, one healthy in every way. But we’re afraid your greed will be your undoing.

“It is time for me to stop. I came here because we thought it only fair to explain what you’re seeing take place. The evacuation of a segment of the earth’s population to a new world. We thought you deserved to know and not have calamities over seeing our departure. We’re leaving peacefully, causing no harm to anyone. But if attacked by any nation, we will take defensive measures.

“General Irving, I know you are in back, a representative of the United States of America. I trust you understand the gravity of the situation and the importance of letting us leave peacefully.”

Everyone in the room turned, looking around the back of it. General Irving stepped forward until under a light. He nodded.

“All I have left to say is good-bye,” said Jules, then he stepped back two steps, bowed slightly, and headed off the stage.

 

As the representatives of the nations debated and argued on what to do, General Irving rushed to the helicopter waiting for him. By the time he emerged, the craft in front of the UN was gone. It took too long for the helicopter to spin up its blades but eventually they lifted off, heading south.

It took no time to get to the bridge. The pilot pulled up, flying over it. Before them the ship hovered over Lower Bay, and the pilot flew toward it until near Swinburne Island, where he brought the helicopter to a stop.

General Irving looked up at the ship stunned by its size. It was larger than he first imagined and seemed to hover in place perfectly still.

“General, we’re getting reports of other vessels like this one rising out of the oceans,” said the pilot.

“How many and where?”

“Two more out to our east, four off the coast of Spain, three off the coast of Japan, and…three off the coast of New Zealand.”

“Thirteen of these things,” said General Irving as he watched the one in view begin to move forward. It swung around over their heads and over the end of Coney Island, climbing higher and higher, accelerating as it did so. Suddenly it was moving fast, quickly climbing too high to see.

“Get me Eglin. I want to know what is happening up there,” said General Irving.

“Yes sir,” said pilot, transferring the com to him.

“You’ve got them on radar?” said General Irving.

“Yes, general, they are converging over the North Pole.”

“The North Pole?”

“Yes, sir. Wow, they are fast. They should be together in a few minutes.”

“Stay on the line and keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir.”

The general looked around at the pilot seeing an expression he knew he possessed as well.

“General!”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“They’re gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“That’s just it. They converged together, started moving away from earth, then they were just gone.”

 

Chapter 7

Space seemed to shiver, distort, then thirteen ships appeared. They fell into a loose formation and flew toward the star they named Arka. They passed three outer planets, knowing there were two others in outer orbit on the other side of the star. Closer to the star, their new sun, there were three more planets, the third, like earth, in an ideal orbit for life.

Their first explorers had named the star and its planets, names that came from old myths from their earth. Olorun was the closest planet and one of the smallest. The second planet was Jumala which had one moon, Hera. The third planet, one with life evolving similar to earth during the age of early mammals and the one to be their new home, was Varuna. It had three moons, two of which were always visible in the nighttime sky. The largest moon was Magec, the next, similar in size to earth’s moon but further away was Taranis, and the third moon, the smallest of the three was Anshar. The fourth planet was Ao which had three moons, Meztli, Aditi, and Nyx. The next planet was an icy giant, larger than any planet around earth, but still smaller than the two largest around Arka, they named Ullr. The largest planet was in orbit far out from Ullr was named Eototo and its two moons named Tzacol and Ira. Further out were the last two planets. Boreas, the second largest of the planets, and Marici, a planet the size of earth but made up of rocks that were mostly black.

The ships swung around the sun to allow passage by each planet so the people could see each one, then they circled the sun once more on course to land on Varuna, their new home. The ships would land around the established bases, four in total only four hundred kilometers apart from each other. One was on a plateau that rose a thousand meters over the ocean, one was on a large lake nestled in a valley, and the other two were on plains to the south next to two major rivers. The ships would serve as habitats, with engineering dismantled to make room for other services they would eventually need as the population grew. Over time they would expand the cities, but never larger than the area was able to support them. As for the rest of the planet, they would leave it alone, only exploring it as they had done the oceans for discoveries to aid in medical and technological advancements. 

Jules and Albert were the last to disembark to see their new world, the two men holding hands as they often did. They watched those around them marvel at the moon in the daytime sky while some strolled to the edge of the cliff face to look out over the ocean.

“Will this be paradise?” said Albert.

“Oh, yes. The weather is tropical, mild, with moderate winds, and we’ll encroach on it as little as possible,” said Jules.

“Gustave and Jean-Louis should be here.”

“They did envision this day.”

Albert strolled out toward the cliffs then stopped. He turned to Jules. “Do you think anyone back on earth will ever find us?”

“Dr. Alizadeh estimates it’ll take China or the United States fifty years to figure out how to fold space and another twenty or more to figure out how to slip into another dimension. By then we’ll be further away, and Arka will be blocked by two other stars.”

“So, unless they map the night sky now and know what to look for, they’ll lose sight of us.”

“Yes. So, I think we’re safe.”

 

They strolled back to their vessel, crews already at work anchoring it in place. They entered through a service door and made their way back to their quarters.

 

Epilogue

Eska and Perth strolled out of the city following the path that led into the woodland. They passed others who were returning to the city for the day was coming to an end. After a while they had to turn on their flashlights to see the path, because they refused to place artificial lights in the woods. They moved deeper into them until they could hear the small creek cascading over rocks on its way to the river. Coming into a small clearing where the creek dropped over its highest drop, only two meters high, and formed a pool roughly eight meters by ten meters in size, before slipping over rock to the next section of the creek.

The day was nearly over for everything in the clearing was shades of grey, their color washed out by the diminished light. Perth shined his light on the statue in the middle of the pool, two figures on a pedestal of pure white rock. It was a memorial of Gustave and Jean-Louis, their First and Second Citizen. Gustave was stooped down reaching into the water and Jean-Louis was standing at his side looking up into the sky. It followed the stories of how Gustave was the leader of them going into the depths of the oceans of Earth. The one who guided them in building Tiamat, then Atlantis, Olokun, and Taniwha, their great underwater cities. It was Jean-Louis who pushed for their exploration of space and ultimately leaving the Earth. There were many involved in each endeavor. Those that resolved the science, did the testing and research. Perth swung his flashlight to their right to the plaques mounted on the rock face facing the pool that listed the most important citizens that were involved in their advancement. The plaques were eighty centimeters high by five meters long.

“Remember when Gustave and Jean-Louis visited us, and Jean-Louis gave the speech about their break throughs in how to travel in space?” said Eska.

“Yes. I didn’t understand most of it and kept wondering if they were serious.”

“Most of us didn’t understand it.”

“They had the ability to see what was possible. Do you think Earth will ever figure out what they knew?”

“If they don’t destroy themselves first.”

Perth didn’t respond to what Eska said, letting the sound of the woodland and creek fill the air. Eska moved behind Perth and hugged him, looking over his shoulder. They rocked slowly watching the water cascade over the rock and into the pool.

“We should go back,” said Perth.

“Yeah,” said Eska.

But they didn’t move, instead they watched the water until the light was gone and night settled over the land. Something splashed in the water and bird song began, the nocturnal species stirring about. Then Perth giggled when Eska kissed the back of his neck in that special place that always led to sex.

Vishwa sat in the corner of his small hostel room, his nose buried in a textbook. The room was bare, the only decorations being a few posters of rock bands and a couple of football players. The single bed was neatly made, the pillow plumped up against the wall. His desk was cluttered with books and notes, a half-empty mug of tea cooling beside his laptop. The quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, where the distant sound of laughter and music hinted at the start of the Holi festivities.

The door burst open with a bang, and four figures filled the doorway. Dhruv, Dvij, Nabhya, and Shayan grinned at him mischievously, their eyes glinting with excitement. “Vishwa, you’re not going to miss out on this!” Dhruv declared, his deep voice bouncing off the walls.

Vishwa looked up, surprised and a bit annoyed. “Guys, I told you I’ve got an exam tomorrow.”

Ignoring his protest, the quartet advanced into the room, their energy palpable. Dvij, the shy Brahmin guy, stepped forward with an unexpected boldness. He held out a handful of coloured powder. “Come on, it’s just a little fun.”

The room erupted in a flurry of movement as the four boys descended upon Vishwa. He tried to dodge, but Dhruv’s strong arms caught him in a bear hug, lifting him off the floor. The struggle was futile as they began to strip him down, pulling at his t-shirt and shorts. Vishwa’s laughter soon turned to surprise as they revealed their own intentions to join the fray in their underwear.

The air grew thick with the scent of wet paint as the boys playfully threw handfuls of coloured water at each other. The cool droplets splattered against their bare skin, leaving vibrant streaks in their wake.

Vishwa, now in just his boxer briefs, felt a rush of adrenaline as he realized he had to either fight or join in. He took a deep breath, making a split-second decision. With a grin, he lunged at Dhruv, grabbing a fistful of coloured powder from the floor and smearing it across his face. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth, “but I’m not going down without a fight!”. His dark skin glistened in the sun peeking through the window. 

He howled at Dhruv, and started tearing off his clothes in fun. Soon all of them had their clothes torn except the muslim guy Shayan. 

Dhruv’s bulge was impossible to miss now, a stark contrast to the vivid blues and pinks that coated his chest. Nabhya’s white briefs now drenched in pink colour clung to his round ass, revealing the shape of his firm cheeks beneath the thin fabric. Shayan, the Muslim boy with the gentle eyes, stepped back, watching the unfolding scene with a mix of amusement and curiosity. He was the newest to the group, and this was his first Holi. His body, a canvas of muscles, was untouched by the festivities, his white shalwar kameez standing out like a beacon of purity amidst the chaos. 

The room descended into a free-for-all, with boys tackling each other and rolling around on the floor. The once pristine white walls of the hostel room were now a kaleidoscope of hues. Vishwa’s lean muscles rippled as he wrestled with Dhruv, their underwear-clad bodies entangled. Nabhya’s giggles filled the air as he dodged their grasp, his bare backside bouncing with each evasive move. Dvij, the shy one, found a surprising delight in the anarchy, smearing green and yellow on Nabhya’s face as he chased him around the room.

Shayan watched for a moment longer before finally succumbing to the infectious joy. He shed his own clothes, revealing a pair of black briefs that clung to his waist like a second skin. He stepped into the fray, a gentle giant amidst the smaller, more nimble boys. His broad shoulders and muscular chest were soon covered in a riot of colors, his laughter echoing through the room. He was not lean, and had a lot of body hair. He also had tummy rolls. He seemed like a pahalwan. 

The battle grew more intense, the air thick with the scent of wet paint and sweat. Vishwa felt the tension in his body begin to ease as the colors melded together, blurring the lines between them. They were no longer just four boys in a hostel room, but a tapestry of friendship and camaraderie.

As the last of the powder was thrown and the final droplets of water splashed, the room grew still. They panted, chests heaving, their eyes gleaming with excitement. For a brief moment, the only sound was the distant music of the festival outside, reminding them of the world beyond their little sanctuary.

Vishwa looked around at his friends, their faces and bodies a vivid mess of colors. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging. “Okay,” he said, his voice a little hoarse, “you win. Holi it is.”

And with that, the five of them collapsed onto the floor, exhausted but content. The festival had officially begun for them, not with the crowded streets and the usual fanfare, but in the confines of their little hostel room. As the day grew later, someone suggested breaking out the bottles of cheap whiskey they’d stashed away for a special occasion and sweets. The celebration quickly escalated as the alcohol flowed freely, each sip loosening inhibitions and deepening the camaraderie.

As the music grew louder and their laughter more raucous, Dhruv’s gaze grew darker, his eyes lingering on Nabhya’s ass. The whiskey had stirred a carnivorous hunger in him, a desire that was only growing with each passing minute. He stumbled over to Nabhya, who was lazily sprawled out on the bed, his cheeks flushed from the booze and his eyes glazed with happiness. Dhruv’s grin was predatory as he leaned over him, his hands moving with surprising agility as he ripped the white twunk’s underwear to shreds.

The room went quiet as Dhruv’s intentions became clear. Nabhya’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t protest as Dhruv’s strong fingers found their way into his asshole. The sensation was cold and foreign, but as the alcohol clouded his judgment, he felt a strange thrill run through him. He watched, half in horror and half in fascination, as Dhruv pulled out a can of custard from the mess on the floor.

With a lewd smirk, Dhruv began to fill Nabhya up, the thick white cream spurting out like a fountain, pooling around Nabhya’s stretched hole. He watched as the custard oozed out, mixing with the colors already coating their bodies. The sight was obscene, yet oddly mesmerizing. Dhruv’s eyes never left Nabhya’s as he brought the can to his lips, tasting the sweetness that now mingled with the musky scent of Nabhya’s ass.

The room was thick with tension as Dhruv started to drink from the mess he’d created. His tongue darted out, lapping at the creamy mess that spilled onto Nabhya’s skin. Nabhya’s breath hitched, his body responding in a way he didn’t understand. The others watched, frozen, unsure of whether to intervene or to join in the depraved game.

Shayan was the first to move, his curiosity piqued. He knelt beside Dhruv, his own arousal evident. Without a word, he took the can from Dhruv’s hand and took a swig, his eyes never leaving the intimate scene unfolding before him. Dvij and Vishwa exchanged a look, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

Vishwa swallowed hard, his own desire rising. He knew this was crossing a line, but something about the raw, unfiltered passion of the moment called to him. He leaned in, his mouth finding the spot where Dhruv had been, and took a tentative lick. The taste was unexpectedly addictive, the mix of sweet and salty, clean and dirty.

The four of them fell into a rhythm, each taking turns to drink from Nabhya’s ass, the act growing more and more fevered with each pass. Nabhya’s moans grew louder, his body squirming with pleasure and confusion. The line between the playful festivities and something much darker had been blurred, but in the haze of the Holi colors and the warm embrace of the whiskey, none of them cared. They were lost in the moment, a whirlwind of lust and colors, the only thing that mattered was the here and now.

Dhruv’s eyes never left Nabhya’s as he felt his own cock thicken and strain against his underwear. He pulled away, panting heavily, and looked around the room. His eyes fell on Dvij, who was watching them with a mix of fear and arousal. Dhruv’s grin grew wider as he reached out and snatched Dvij’s wrist, pulling him closer. “Don’t be shy,” he said, his voice low and seductive.

Dvij’s eyes darted to Vishwa for reassurance, but Vishwa was too busy exploring Shayan’s body. He’d moved on from the pecs and was now nibbling on Shayan’s neck, eliciting a deep growl from the big guy. Shayan’s eyes were half-lidded with desire, his hands tangled in Vishwa’s hair.

Nabhya watched as Dhruv’s hand moved to his own underwear, and before he could process what was happening, Dhruv had pulled them down, revealing his big, thick cock. Dhruv’s hand guided Nabhya’s head to it, and he found himself opening his mouth and taking it in. It was his first time doing anything like this, but the atmosphere of the room, the taste of the custard and the whiskey, and the feeling of Dhruv’s fingers in his hair, all combined to make it feel somehow natural.

The room was a blur of colors and flesh as the boys touched and tasted each other, their inhibitions forgotten in the throes of passion. The once innocent festival had turned into an orgy of desire and exploration. Dvij stood there, trembling, as Dhruv whispered in his ear, “You’re next.”

Nabhya’s eyes were watering from the assault on his senses, but he couldn’t stop himself from bobbing his head, taking Dhruv deeper into his mouth. The feeling was strange, yet oddly exhilarating, as he felt the powerful muscles of Dhruv’s thighs tense and release with each movement. The room was spinning, a cacophony of sounds and sensations that seemed to pulse with the bass of the distant festival music.

Vishwa’s own desire grew as he watched Nabhya’s eager ministrations. He turned his attention to Shayan, his nimble fingers tracing the contours of his pecs. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, eliciting a moan from the muscular boy. The contrast of the cool, wet colors against their heated bodies was intoxicating.

Dvij’s fear was palpable as Dhruv’s hand reached for his own underwear. He flinched, but Dhruv’s grip was firm, insistent. The air grew thick with the scent of arousal as Dvij’s cock sprang free, smaller than Dhruv’s but just as eager. Dhruv’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he wrapped his hand around it, stroking it gently. Dvij’s cheeks flamed, but he couldn’t deny the growing need in his body.

The whiskey had loosened everyone’s inhibitions, and as Vishwa felt Shayan’s hands on his own ass, he realized that he’d never been more turned on in his life. He leaned into the touch, his own hands roaming over Shayan’s chest, feeling the firmness of his abs, the warmth of his skin. He glanced over at Nabhya, who was now straddling Dhruv’s lap, his face buried in the older boy’s neck as he continued to suck him off.

The sight was too much for Vishwa to bear. He pulled away from Shayan, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He stumbled over to the bed, his eyes locked on Nabhya’s ass, now slick with custard and sweat. He didn’t know if it was the booze or the heat of the moment, but he needed to taste it, to be part of the depraved act that was unfolding. He knelt behind Nabhya, his tongue darting out to lick the sticky mess that covered his friend’s skin.

The room was a whirlwind of sensation, each boy lost in their own world of pleasure. The sounds of sucking and slurping filled the air, mingling with the occasional giggle or gasp. It was a symphony of desire, a celebration of the flesh that none of them had ever experienced before.

Vishwa started pouring the Mango Lassi they had bought for the occasion over Shayan. He started on his muscular pecs and then started to suckle his nipple. The sweet and salty flavour of the Lassi and the tights pecs of Shayan felt like heaven. Shayan continued to breastfeed Vishwa like the good daddy he was. Vishwa moved his way down. He poured it on his abs, his belly and finally on his underwear. Vishwa sucked on him and licked him and cleaned him. He opened the underwear and starting drinking Shayan’s big penis. 

Shayan watched, his own cock now in Vishwa’s mouth, as Dvij tentatively approached Nabhya. He could see the fear in Dvij’s eyes, but also the curiosity, the need to be part of this wild, unbridled moment. He reached out, his hand cupping Dvij’s chin, guiding him to Nabhya’s ass. The shy Brahmin’s eyes grew wide as he took in the sight, but he didn’t pull away.

Dvij leaned in, his tongue tentatively touching the sticky mess that surrounded Nabhya’s hole. The taste was foreign, but as he licked away the custard, he found himself growing bolder, his fear giving way to a strange excitement. His cock was now fully erect, bobbing in time with the rhythm of Nabhya’s movements.

The four of them continued to explore each other, the boundaries of their friendship stretched to their limits. The festival of colors had turned into a celebration of desire, a moment of shared intimacy that would forever change the dynamics of their group. And as the night grew darker and the whiskey bottle grew lighter, the only thing that was certain was that there was no going back.

Shayan was fucking Vishwa. Dvij started fucking Nabhya’s bubble butt. The sheer contrast of skin colours endrenched in powdered colours and milk, looked beautiful. The fatty layer glistened and appeared so shiny. Dhruv’s high cock demanded attention. He started licking the ass of Shayan. He rimmed it out and inserted his penis. Shayan was now fucking and was getting fucked simultaneously. Vishwa did the same. Vishwa started fucking Dvij. Dvij was fucking Nabhya. They formed a big train. Their movements were synchronised. 

It looked so beautiful. Three dark skinned men and two fair. Two muscular and three skinny. Dhruv was a Rajput, from the warrior class. He was a dominant Top. Shayan was a Muslim daddy who got overwhelmed by the warrior penis. He went into the Dalit asshole, generally considered the lowest in ancient Indian society. Vishwa, the dalit, fucked Dvija, who was a brahmin, the so called powerful class in Indian society. And the brahmin fucked the sikh guy, Nabhya who did not wear a turban, and was proud of his femininity. 

All of them released their fluids into each other’s ass. Nabhya also had to release so he fucked Dhruv for a while. Drenched in a variety of fluids, they slept naked. Holi brought them together, and destroyed the cultural divisions. It is truely a uniting festival. 

Author’s Note:  I received an email from a reader who told me he enjoyed my stories but noted that I often take a lot of time to build to the sex scenes.  He wasn’t complaining but was wondering if I’d ever tried writing something short and to the point.  I thought he made a good point and set a goal to write something spank-worthy in under 1,000 words.  Leave a comment and let me know if you think I hit the mark.

Your comments are welcome at [email protected] (No pictures or attachments, please.)

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I was in San Francisco for a meeting.  After checking in, I made my way to my room.  I fired up the computer.  Per my normal routine, I opened up Sniffies to see if there was any one interesting close by.

I clicked on one bubble.  No picture—just a muscled bare chested meme, but a nice description:  “22/5’8”/140/5c”.  In his profile he’d written:  cute boi likes to dress up all in lace and go in style.”

“Hey,” I typed.

He responded:  “Hi.  Looking?”

“Absolutely,” I wrote.

“Where are you staying.”

“Embarcadero Hyatt,” I responded.

He blinked out and was gone.  “Oh, well,” I thought. 

I continued to chat with a few guys.  15 minutes later the twink’s bubble reappeared, with a message for me.  I clicked in and read:  “Hi.  I’m at the bar in your lobby.  Figure out who I am and take me to bed.”

I was down at the bar in less than 2 minutes.

I laughed when I saw him.  He was the only 20-something in a sea of 30 to 50-somethings.

I nodded at him and he walked to me.

He reached me and said “you win.”

In less than 2 minutes we were in my room.  I closed and latched the door behind us.  I then stood before him to get a good look.  He had a mop of blonde hair and crystal blue eyes.  His face was hairless and without a blemish.  His lips were thin and pink. 

I wrapped my arms around him and drew him in for a kiss.  It was passionate and hungry, each of us using his tongue to lick and explore the other’s lips and mouth. 

We moved into the room and he stepped back.  He rolled his t-shirt up over his head.  When his arms went up I noted a small patch of reddish-blonde hair under each arm.  Otherwise, his chest was bare.  His nipples were puffy and pink.

He unbuckled his pants and dropped them to his ankles, kicking them away when they landed on the floor.  He had been going commando and was naked.

His cock was about 5” long and cut.  He had a nice reddish blonde thatch of pubes at the base of his cock.  I spun him around to look at his ass.  Two perfect small globes.

He spun around as I was taking my shirt off.  He reached forward and undid my belt and pulled my zipper down.  He let my pants drop.  I, too, was commando.  Set free, my 7” cut cock sprung forward.

He let out a little moan and took my hand and walked me to the bed.  When we got there, he turned me around and had me sit on the edge.

As soon as I was sitting, he buried his face in my crotch.  He pushed my legs open wide and then used his hands to grope and squeeze my balls and trace erotic lines of pleasure up and down my thighs and stomach.  One hand reached up and squeezed my nipples.

His technique was exquisite.  He licked the underside of my cock, his snake-like tongue flickered along the tip and stem.  He alternated this by holding my cock and licking the underside from the base to the tip and then repeating that.  His tongue and mouth were wet and soon my cock was coated in thick saliva.  And then he started to suck me.  Slowly he went down to the base and then went back up again.  He continued to do that, taking me deep into his throat then coming back out again.

He stopped and looked up at me with a smile.  He then held my cock out of the way and went to work on my balls and taint with his tongue and his mouth.  He sucked one ball in and lightly chewed on it.  Then he sucked the other in and lightly chewed on that.  He swirled his tongue around, all over my balls.  He dipped his finger in the pool of saliva accumulating at the base of my cock and then stuck his finger in my ass, rolling me back to give himself better access.

Then, continuing to finger fuck me, he went back to work on my cock with a fury.  He was an expert cocksucker.  His tongue slid up and down the bottom side of my cock as my cock went in and out of his mouth.  One finger plunged in and out of my hole while the other hand fondled and played with my balls. 

He did this for a few minutes.  I felt the cum starting to boil down below and warned him.  He did not stop.  In fact, he continued to suck my cock, finger my hole with deep plunges and roll my balls around with a renewed passion. 

I groaned as I exploded into his mouth.  He opened his lips, slipped me out as I was still cumming.  He took a couple of nice shots to his lips and his cheeks and then plunged me back in to suck me some more.  As my volleys came to end, he licked my cock clean and used my cock to gather up the cum on his chin, cheeks and lips, coating my cock and then taking it back into his mouth to lick it off with his tongue.  He then licked off any residue with his tongue.

After a few minutes he got up and came back from the bathroom with a warmly damp towel and cleaned me and him off.  He then scampered up beside me and said:  “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s take our time tonight.”

The Nephew Foursome

The elevator doors finally opened on our floor and we hurried into the condo  directly to the spare bedroom.  Geoffrey had whistled at the view as we went through the main living space and then commented on the view when we got to the bedroom.  Then he caught sight of my racing stripe as I shed my sweaty workout shirt.  “Wow!”

Kent stepped closer and ran his hand up and down my scarred chest.  “Reminder of how precious life is.”  Geoffrey mmmmmm’d reverently and turned and gave Eric another kiss.  Then he regained purpose and stripped so fast he was naked before the rest of us.

Magnificent is the only word for my nephew’s boyfriend.  Perfectly sculpted  and tanned body complete with a vivid tan line at his waist and more blurred lines on his legs, carefully ‘scraped treasure trail so as to appear at first glance that it was completely natural, and a heavy set of shaved-smooth balls under a heavy but short uncut dick that was growing.  Very strong toned hairy thighs and the previously-admired calves of death held up that amazing torso.  Tatts everywhere but instead of putting me off with the usual randomness or overdone extent of coverage they enhanced his virility.

Kent got out of his socks and went to Geoffrey.  He ran his hands over the stunning torso, down the length of his hardening dick, and with his other hand took hold of his ass.  “You picked a winner Eric.”

“Why do I love being objectified so much?” Geoffrey asked with a laugh.  He reached out and stroked Kent’s impressive length.  “Man Eric I didn’t expect your uncles to be this hung or hot even though you told me!  I don’t know if I’m going home later this week or to the ER!”

Eric meanwhile had his hard dick pressed against mine and our groins rubbing together.  His breath was too minty against my lips as he brushed them; like he’d eaten too many Tic Tacs just before they got there.  Don’t get me wrong; fresh breath is a winner.  But this was overpowering.

“Get my sweaty dick in your mouth.  Any more of that minty breath and I’m gonna be the one gagging instead of you!” I teased him.

As he fell to his knees and brought my hard dick to his face he said, “I should have done more in Hawaii.  Two beautiful fuckin’ cocks right there and me a straight scared boy who just let you two get me off and I didn’t try much.”  I remembered it vividly and with a bit more adventuresomeness than he gave himself credit for.  I wondered if I’d refined my memory to assuage my guilt at defiling my nephew.  Then he aggressively went at my dick, was gagging and choking in no time, and I neither cared about Hawaii nor any guilt I had then or the thoughts I’d had earlier in the day.

Eric’s hung; Geoffrey has a nicely-shaped veiny uncut dick of thickness but very “normal” length.  A show-er among three show-er/growers.  He has nothing to be ashamed of with a beautiful big set of balls complementing his meat but he doesn’t compare to the rest of us.  It’s what men do; compare.  I wondered if my nephew banged his ass or vice versa; the thickness had to be difficult for him at first if Eric was the bottom.

“Take it easy Eric,” I told my nephew as he gagged particularly hard with my knob at the back of his throat.  I held his head and took pleasure in messing his newly perfect hair-do as I moved him slowly on the end-half of my length.  It has been a while for me since I learned to fully suck and swallow Kent’s monster dick; but I clearly remembered it was patience and relaxation that got me there not brute force.

Kent and Geoffrey were kissing each other and he was still stroking my husband’s now-slick pole; Kent’s pre is always plentiful and Geoffrey’s big hand was soaked.  Kent was gripping the tatted stud’s perfect bubble butt and teasing his smooth-shaved hole with his middle finger.  From the way Geoffrey was gyrating and moaning he certainly was hole-hungry.

“When did you two last fuck?” I asked in a raised voice.

“This morning,” the two said almost in unison.  Eric had his mouth full again in quick order; Geoffrey added some detail and panted while Kent’s finger was now sliding in and out of him.

“When Eric and you were texting we were both really hot.  Eric told me … nnnngg!”  My husband obviously found Geoffrey’s pleasure nub; the boy’s dick spewed a huge glob of pre which Kent caught with his other hand and then shared with Geoffrey and licked the rest.  “Fuck you’re gonna make me bust if you keep doing … AH FUCK!  THAAAAAT!” he groaned.

Eric got my head into his throat with a loud groan of his own which sent vibrations and jolts straight to my balls and my own hole was twitching.

“I told him what studs the two of you are,” Eric said when he came up for air.  “In fact we’ve role-played Hawaii MANY times.”  My balls were tingling and my dick was throbbing at the thoughts of that as much as they were when he went back to work on it.

“Probably good you took the edge off before you got here.  Two young studs fully loaded who knows; might have been all over by now,” Kent said and poked Geoffrey just right to get a couple of more gasps and groans from him.

“Serious daddy!” Geoffrey moaned and his dick was drooling a steady flow of pre.  “Much more and I’ll be shooting,” he gasped.

Kent covered his mouth and pulled him tight against him.  Geoffrey’s muscled arms went around him and he wrapped his fingers over Kent’s shoulders and moaned as they ground their bodies together; Geoffrey more humping than grinding.

“Easssssy boy,” Kent slowed their pace.  “There’s a ways for us to go with this,” he told him.

Eric was throating my dick well by then and regular enough with continued moans of enthusiasm which had me wondering if I’d feel that familiar build-up soonest of all of us and be sidelined.  He was doing great at the dick-sucking and savoring but had his one hand on my butt-cheek and his other alternately gripping my base when he took some knob time and then on my thigh when he swallowed me again.  He hadn’t given my balls so much as a lick.  I wondered if that was inexperience or negligence.  Either way it might save me from that early exit.

Kent roughly spun Geoffrey around and shoved his upper body down onto the bed but held his waist so his ass was up.  He smeared his slimy dick-head against the shaved crack and then pushed.

“Nnnggghhhhhhh!” Geoffrey cried as he was breached.

“Beg for it bitch!” Kent yelled at him and slapped his ass HARD.

“OOOOHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUCK!” Geoffrey cried out.  “Fuckin’ GIVE IT TO ME DADDY!  Fuckin’ huge fuckin’ cock.  FUCK YEAH!”

Eric had pulled off me and looked transfixed watching his boyfriend take my husband’s thrusts.  “That what you want Eric?” I asked.

He snapped his head up at me.  “You might kill my bung-hole Uncle Al,” he said with fear in his eyes.  “Geoffrey fucks me GOOOOOD but he’s about half your size,” he said reverently hefting my spit-slicked dick.  “But goddamn I’ve been fantasizing ‘bout this for too long not to go for it; if I shit into a bag the rest of my life so the fuck what?”

“Charming!” I said with more than a bit of disgust.

Eric scrambled up onto the bed on his stomach and had his face against Geoffrey’s.  The two began making-out; just mouths hungrily together at first.  Geoffrey’s arms were stretched forward and gripping the far side of the bed.  My nephew had one hand on each of his cheeks behind him holding his formerly-hairy and now-trimmed crack and shaved hole as open as he could.

I spit; not my greatest talent but close enough.  I pushed my flared head against that smoothed pucker and rubbed my spit around and pressed.  You’d think I’d shoved in from the way he moaned; goddamn but it turned me on and I did.  I just SHOVED into him and felt his hole give way and stretch TIGHT around me like a gripping fist.

Eric had pulled away from Geoffrey and was crying out.  He was also pushing his ass up farther; he fucking wanted it.

“Take it Eric!!” I shouted and let myself plunge into him until my groin slapped into his hole.

“HOLLLLLLY FUCK!” he cried.

I didn’t give him any time and pulled back and thrust in again.  And again.  Each deep plunge elicited a loud groan.  And another expletive.

Geoffrey was throwing a constant stream of begging, compliments and moans of perfect agony as Kent banged him hard and continuously.  “Fuck daddy that’s soooo fuckin’ good.  Man use this pussy!  Fuck ME!  Oh fuck man you’re tearing it apart.”

Eric had one hand clasping one of Geoffrey’s and the other clutching at the bed cover and edge of the bed like Geoffrey was holding in with his other.  “FUCK MAN!” he shouted at one point where I’d lost my balance above him and felt my knob violently knock his prostate.  “Fuck yeah like that!  Oh FUCK YEAH!” he shouted when I deliberately repeated and jackhammered his pleasure point.

“My husband is making a moaning bitch of your boyfriend,” Kent spat down at Geoffrey.  “How does that feel?”

Eric’s body was gyrating and spasming under me and his cries were escalating.  “OH FUCK!  OHHH FUCKKKK!  FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK!”

Geoffrey answered Kent.  “Feels as good as you fuckin’ me daddy!  Go on take what you want daddy; I fuckin’ want your babies!”

At that Eric convulsed and screamed.  “HOLY FUCK!”  His hole clenched as he spasmed and his clenching on my dick was red-hot and tight.

A hard buck caught my balls and sent a shock-wave through me and made me cum.  “JESUS FUCK!” I cried out.

“SEED.  THAT.  HOLE!” Kent encouraged me through gritted lips.

“FUCK ME HOW CAN YOU GET BIGGER INSIDE ME!” Geoffrey wailed and pounded his free fist into the bed.  His other gripped Eric’s so tight both their hands were white.

Kent grunted through his release and stabbed a few final thrusts as Geoffrey egged him on.  “THAT’S IT DADDY; every fuckin’ drop man.  Fuck yeah!”

“Holy fuckin’ shit!” Eric moaned under me.  “I’ve cum from Geoff fucking me a few times but it felt like my entire skeleton was coming apart just now.  Feels like there’s a lake of my cum under me.”

Kent panted and quipped as he pulled out of my nephew’s boyfriend, “Not the first time we’ve taken this bed-spread to the cleaners.  They know we’re fuckin’ pervs.”

Watching the sloppy veiny hard length of him and his huge dick-head pulled free could have made me cum again.  “Awwwww FUCK!” Geoffrey shouted just before the PLOP when his hole snapped and gurgled.

“Get me cleaned-up!” Kent ordered Geoffrey and cracked his butt-cheek hard enough for him to yip and jump.  But he was around and seated at the edge of the bed and swallowing Kent’s flagging dick quick enough.

Eric who watched made a move to disengage and I realized I was still planted in him.  So I pushed myself up and slowly far more gently than Kent had and slid myself out of my nephew; easier because I go soft faster.

“Holy shit Uncle Al!” he said as I got up.  And then he got his hairy frame up and grabbed me.  “Let me,” he said and took me in his mouth.  My straight nephew had come a long way indeed.

When they both had enough ass-to-mouth they turned to each other and kissed … and kissed.  We took the cue and did the same.

“Come on.  Let’s let them have some space,” Kent told me and pulled me toward the door.  If they noticed us leave they made no indication of it.  I closed the door as quietly as I could.

We walked the hall toward our master bedroom and heard Geoffrey tell Eric, “I fuckin’ love you!” and Eric responded in kind I think but wasn’t sure as our distance increased.  Kent gripped my shoulder, pulled me closer, and eerily mimicked Geoffrey’s voice.  “I fuckin’ love you!”

I laughed and bumped him with my hip.  “It’s just my hot nephew’s hot boyfriend you love me for,” I teased him.

Kent pulled my hand to his already re-stiffening dick.  “Let me show you all the many other things I love you for Al.”

We continued into our room.  And he did show me a few things.

I knew I shouldn’t be in his room. But I was.

And his underwear—those tight, gray compression briefs he wore after the gym—were right on top of the pile in his bag, still damp with sweat. Still warm.

My hand shook a little as I picked them up. My heart pounded.

They smelled like him. That thick, musky mix of cologne and crotch sweat and body heat—raw, masculine, heady. I buried my face in the fabric and inhaled like a fucking addict.

God, he smelled so good.

I pressed the briefs tighter to my face, right where the bulge had been. I could still make out the outline. The shape. I licked the fabric once, just to taste it. My whole body buzzed.

I didn’t hear the door open.

“Dude.”

My stomach dropped.

I turned, frozen in place, and there he was. Standing in the doorway shirtless, his gym shorts hanging low. A protein shake in one hand, keys in the other. His body still glistening from the shower. And that stupid smirk already creeping onto his face.

“The fuck are you doing, bro?” he said, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him.

“I—I was just—fuck—I didn’t mean—”

“Were you sniffing my underwear?” he asked, grinning like he’d just caught me jerking off to his OnlyFans. “Seriously?”

I dropped the briefs like they were on fire.

He looked at the floor. Then back at me. “Jesus,” he laughed. “You could’ve just told me you wanted my dick, you little perv.”

“I didn’t— I mean— I wasn’t—”

He cocked his head. “Don’t lie now. You were all up in it.”

He tossed his shake onto the dresser and stepped closer. His cock was outlined thick down his thigh. I couldn’t stop staring.

“I’m not gay or anything,” he said casually, like this was a normal conversation. “But if you’re that desperate for it…”

He slid a thumb into the waistband of his shorts.

“You want it?” he asked, watching me squirm on my knees. “Come get it.”

I crawled toward him, hands shaking, knees burning against the carpet. I was so fucking hard it hurt.

He didn’t flinch. Just stood there, arms crossed, abs flexing as I tugged down his shorts. His cock flopped out half-hard, thick and veiny, hanging heavy between his legs.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Didn’t think you’d really do it.”

I leaned in and licked up the underside. He was salty. Hot. His whole body twitched.

“Shit,” he whispered, grabbing the back of my head. “Alright. Go slow. Don’t choke unless you want to.”

I opened my mouth and slid down on him. My lips stretched wide. He grunted.

“Fuck, you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Sucking your big bro’s cock?”

I moaned around him.

He started thrusting. Slow at first, then deeper. His cock hit the back of my throat and he growled.

“Fucking take it. Let me use your mouth.”

He grabbed my hair and guided my head, using me like a toy. His hips rolled forward—hard, steady. My jaw ached but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

“You love this,” he muttered, voice getting rough. “You’re my little cumslut now, huh?”

He was close. I could feel it in the way his cock throbbed on my tongue.

“I’m gonna nut in your mouth, bro. You’re swallowing every drop.”

He shoved deep and groaned as he came. Hot pulses spilled down my throat. I choked once, then sucked harder, desperate to taste all of him.

When he pulled out, I was breathless, mouth wet, chin slick.

He looked down, still smirking. “Damn.”

He tucked himself back into his shorts like it was nothing.

“You ever want more, just ask. But next time,” he winked, “you’re calling me sir.”

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