Winter - 5. Someday We'll Be Together

Sunday, 29 December 2013

“Someday, we’ll be together like this all the time.” Owen’s whispered words made CJ snicker and hug the man next to him tighter.

“Oh? Pretty confident, ain’tcha?” CJ was on his side, facing Owen. He slowly ran a hand down the Aussie’s smooth chest, until it reached the mess of blond hair surrounding the man’s crotch. They hadn’t bothered to close the curtains the previous night. Sunlight streamed in through the windows making them both squint in the early brightness. Owen, resting on his back, shivered slightly; the fan above their bed stirred the cool morning air over them, making the skin on his arms pebble. He turned to face CJ, slid an arm underneath the teen’s head, and wrapped himself around the younger guy.

“Bloody right. If you think I’m going to walk away now that I found you…”

“Technically, I found you, buddy. You were already in Australia when I flew in.” CJ stared into the blue eyes of the blond, while sensuously licking his lips. “Who cares how it happened. It did. You’ve made this vacation one I’ll never forget. After last night, I think I want more of you. And I want a big kiss, but I need to pee first.”

CJ threw off the sheet and light blanket covering their bodies, sat while stretching his arms out over his head, and then reached for his jeans laying by the bed where he had let them fall the previous night. The one problem with a shared bathroom was having to put on clothes before walking out the door.

“I’m right behind you, mate.” Owen replicated the American teen’s move, sliding his jeans over his long legs before following. Inside the bathroom, CJ was already standing in front of the toilet unbuttoning his jeans, when he heard the sound of the door lock being engaged. “Here, let me give you a hand.” Words were turned into action. Owen stepped behind CJ, wrapped his arms around him, and reached down to finish opening CJ’s fly. “I’ll aim it for ya.”

“If you spill it, you hafta clean it.” CJ watched as his foreskin was pulled back, leaned against the Aussie, and relaxed. Closing his eyes, he smiled and felt his bladder begin to empty.

“Damn, that felt good. I’m gonna run back to the room when I finish and get the mouthwash. Now that the piss boner has been dealt with, I need to deal with morning breath. I’ll return the favor and hold it for you next time.”

Once back in their room, they stripped their jeans off and tumbled onto the bed while kissing. With CJ on top, their tongues battled, darting in and out of each other’s mouths.

“Fuck!” exclaimed Owen. Their lips disengaged, and he dropped his head on a pillow.

“Sure, but later.” CJ manhandled the blond guy until his feet were on the floor, his butt on the edge of the bed, and his thighs spread. “First I want another sample of Owen. Gotta make sure I remember the taste later.” The teen, on his knees between the Aussie’s legs, opened up his mouth and engulfed his friend.

 

“So, tell me about the redhead.” CJ speared a slice of mango from his plate and waved it around a bit before sticking it in his mouth. Once their sexual hunger had been temporarily satisfied, they had showered, dressed in shorts and t-shirts―CJ wearing a rust-colored one with New York City-Established 1664 printed on the front. After a final check of their clothes and hair in front of the mirror, they walked downstairs to enjoy the complimentary breakfast provided by the hotel.

“I guess I did promise… But there’s not bloody much to tell. Dawson and I met my first year at uni.” Pouring himself more tea, he doctored it with cream and sugar, and sipped from the cup before looking back at CJ. “We had a couple of classes together and started talking to each other before and after. One day he invited me to go out for a coffee, told me he was gay, and hoped I was too. When I admitted I was, he asked me out on a date.”

“How did he know about you?”

“He didn’t. He was hoping. Guy’s ballsy like that, which I found attractive.” Owen raised his eyes and stared at CJ. “You’re similar. You say what you think outright instead of pussyfooting around.”

“Yeah well, my mouth can run off sometimes. But I think I’m like my dads a lot in that respect. They see an issue, they deal with it. No wasting time overthinking.”

“See, some people can do that and it’s a turn-on for me. Anyway, we started going out. Everything was fine, the sex was great, and we hardly ever disagreed. One night we were at a party, got pissed, and ended up in bed with a friend of his.”

“A three-way?”

“Yeah, my first. And it was hot. They… took turns with me. His friend said he was a total top, and Dawson kept telling me I’d get to do him after his mate left. I was the designated bottom for the night. But the guy didn’t leave. He slept with us that night, and in the morning they both went at me again.”

“Weren’t you sore? Why didn’t you just leave?”

“A little.” Owen chuckled, the serious expression on his face momentarily disappearing. “But neither one was as big as you.”

“Whatever…”

“And I didn’t leave ‘cause I was stupid. At first, it was fun. Then I went along ‘cause Dawson seemed to be enjoying himself. I wanted to make him happy.”

“What about afterward?”

“Dawson started wanting to be the top more and more. He would let me take a turn once in a while. But most of the time it was me on my back. Or kneeling. Or bent over. Or against the wall. About a month later, we did it again with a different guy we met at a bar. And then it kinda became a regular thing, with me always being the bottom. One night, his mate came over with another guy, all four of us ended up naked and playing, but I wasn’t allowed to top. The three tag-teamed me.”

“So, are you like, only a bottom?”

“No bloody way! Didn’t you hear they wouldn’t let me?” Owen sounded and looked upset. “I mean, I like it. I like being a bottom.” He hesitated, his gaze flitting between CJ and his own hands and feet. “But I like being on top also.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “A few weeks after the fourway, Dawson wanted to have a party where he could watch me get fucked by several guys. He admitted to getting off on seeing me get used. I blew up, told him I wasn’t going to let him turn me into pussy for all his friends, and walked away.”

“So that’s what he was talking about last night. He wanted to watch while I fucked you.”

“Yeah, I figure. I didn’t go out with him again after. We talked a few times, but he kept going back to the same thing. He wanted to see me with other men. I don’t know why he changed. Or if he was hiding his real personality at first. The group thing can be fun, but it’s not for me. At least not the way he wanted it to happen. For the rest of my time at uni I dated a bit but avoided getting close to anyone. I had feelings for the wanker, but all he wanted was for me to spread my legs for him, and anyone else he felt like sharing my ass with.”

“What an ass!” exclaimed CJ. “Ooops. I meant him. Not that your ass isn’t hot as hell…”

“You can have it if you want it.”

“Excuse me?”

“My ass. You can have it. I’d love to get fucked by you.”

 

“Fuck! That’s George Burgess!” Owen lowered his head a fraction of an inch, peering over the rim of his sunglasses. “Damn!”

“Who?” asked CJ, looking in the same direction. There were a few extremely muscular guys splashing in the surf, but he had no idea who his friend was ogling.

“George Burgess. There, the blond walking out of the water right now. The one with the black sluggos, and shoulders as wide as a ute.”

“Shit. He’s big. All over! Is a sluggo the same as a budgie smuggler?”

Owen laughed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s what covers your slug. He fills it out pretty well. You should see him naked. He’s almost as big as you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh relax. I don’t know him that well. Everyone knows who he is. The bloke plays for the Rabbitohs. As do his three brothers, including his twin. Wait until I tell my friends I ran into Burgess at Bondi.”

“Why tell them. Let’s get a picture with him and you can show them.” CJ stood, wiped sand off his legs and hands, and then extended one to Owen.

“You’re bloody crazy, you know?” Owen grabbed the offered hand and pulled himself upwards from the towel he had been resting on. “But it might work. Come on, we’ll introduce ourselves. I’ll explain you’re a friend visiting from the US and you’re interested in rugby.”

“Is that what the Rabbitohs are? A rugby team?”

“Yeah. Well, technically they’re League but close enough for you. Come on. Let’s go talk to him. Afterward, I’ll show you the naked selfies he posted. I think every gay guy in Australia has them saved on their phone.”

The rugger turned out to be very approachable and was happy to take pictures with them. “So, mate, how long are you in Oz for?”

“Ummm, we’re here until after New Year’s. I have to get back to school, and the rents need to go back to work.”

“Too bad you’re not here during the season, so you could go to a game.”

“You never know. I may come back during my summer break.” CJ sat on the sand, across from the young athlete, at the man’s hand gesture inviting him to do so. Owen followed suit, the three animatedly talking rugby for some time―including CJ’s involvement with the club at school.

“Mate, that’s brilliant! We need more guys like you in the US. It’d be great if Americans started paying more attention to our sport,” enthused Burgess. “Go get your phone. I’ll give you my e-mail address. Say hello now and again, and let me know if you come back. If there’s a game you can attend, I’ll get you a pass.”

“The man’s definitely hot,” said CJ. He and Owen were walking away from their new acquaintance after further promises of staying in touch. “And he has a great fucking body. But I think you’re sexier. You’re blonder.”

“So that’s why you’re hanging around me!” kidded Owen. “You just have a thing for blonds. Like father, like son?”

“Maybe…,” replied CJ, winking at his friend. “Papa’s a beach boy too.”

 

“I think we have a problem, CJ.” Owen furrowed his brow, not looking very happy. After spending a couple of hours sunning themselves, with occasional dips in the ocean to rinse off sand and sweat, they walked across Campbell Parade to get lunch.

“What do you mean? My burger was great.” Bondi Beach was a small crescent of sand, and the road surrounding its outside curve was populated by numerous eateries and shops. They had settled on what appeared to be a popular spot, full of young people.

“That’s not what I meant. What are you doing right now?”

“I was getting ready to pay the bill,” replied CJ, holding the piece of paper the server had placed at their table in one hand, and his card in the other. He appeared confused as to what his buddy was talking about.

“Didn’t I say I wanted to buy you lunch when we started walking?”

“Yeah, but―”

“But you’re ready to pay. The same way you paid for everything yesterday. I have my own bloody money, you know?”

“Sorry. Papa told me to pay for stuff since you were being so nice to me. What with bringing me to Sydney and the concert.”

“Yeah, see? I didn’t even get to pay for the tickets.” Owen placed a comforting hand on CJ’s knee and gave it a gentle shake. “Mate, I know you have more money than you know what to do with. But that’s not why I want to be around you. Give me the chance to pay for something.”

“I’m sorry. Guess I’m not used to going out on dates. That’s what this is right? A date?”

“You’re such a wanker. Yeah, I think you could call this a date. Now hand the thing over, and let me buy you lunch.”

 

While they debated what to do after lunch, CJ’s phone pinged. Brett’s text message asked where he was, and told him his dads and uncles were checking in at the hotel. The two younger men slipped their shirts, pants, and shoes back on, and stuffed towels and flip-flops into the backpack CJ was carrying. Wearing their helmets, with CJ’s arms tightly wrapped around Owen’s torso, they rode back to the hotel.

“The room is fine, I don’t mind sharing the bathroom. And it’s cool enough at night with the window open and the ceiling fan. We don’t need an air conditioner.” CJ slouched on the upholstered chair placed by the window in his fathers’ room, a leg draped over the arm, his foot swinging back and forth. He had sent Owen to shower and change, wanting to talk to his dads alone. “We already unpacked and put our stuff away. It makes sense to stay there.”

“You keep saying we,” commented César, raising an eyebrow. “Something you want to share?”

“Yeah, that’s why I sent Owen to the room. I wanted to talk to the two of you alone.” CJ turned his body slightly, looking at his dads as they emptied their suitcases, and threw his other leg over the arm of the chair. “I asked him to stay with me.”

“And?” asked Brett.

“And you better not go batshit crazy on me.” CJ stared into the marine’s eyes. “I’m being open about us fooling around. I don’t want to do anything behind your back. But I don’t want a repeat of what happened after my trip to Chicago.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re past that, CJ.” César looked at his son with a small grin on his face. “We’ve met Owen, and we kinda like him. Whatever you’re doing’s in your own room at the hotel. Just remember to be safe. Use those condoms you said you brought with you.”

“We haven’t needed them so far, Dad.” CJ gave his fathers a slight smile. “But that may change tonight. We stopped at the chemist―that’s a pharmacy in case your Oztrayan isn’t up to snuff―on the way back from the beach. Owen wanted to buy something to clean himself out.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” exclaimed Brett, throwing his hands in the air. “I wonder if other kids your age tell their parents they plan on fucking some guy before they do.”

“Hey!” replied CJ. “I didn’t say any such thing. Maybe I’ll decide to try being on the bottom this time.”

“Okay…,” drawled César. “You better be certain you’re ready if you decide to do it. If the big, blond, surfer boy’s gonna be the first one, make sure he takes his time and don’t let him hurt you.”

“I don’t think Owen would ever knowingly hurt me, Dad. You’ve seen how nice he is.”

“Yeah, babe,” interjected Brett. “You know big, blond, surfer dudes are cool.”

The remark made CJ chuckle. “I told Owen I like blonds last night. He made some smart-assed comment about me trying to be like Dad. Kinda cool, don’t you think? Both of us end up sleeping with beach boys.”

“I’m starting to think it’s a good thing his room is on another floor, Jarhead.” César looked at his son appreciatively. “Whatever they end up doing, it may get loud.”

“I’m sure you could make me squeal loud enough to drown them out,” replied Brett.

“Oh, great.” CJ rolled his eyes and stood up. “My fathers, the sex maniacs. I’m going downstairs to shower and get changed. Call our room when you guys are ready to head out to eat.”

 

“You were awfully quiet during dinner.” César had taken his shirt off and was running his hand through the hair on his chest. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Brett bent over to step out of his jeans and boxer briefs, giving his husband a view of his ass. “I was trying to work something out in my head.”

“If you stay bent over like that, I call top! Let me guess, CJ and Owen…”

“Yep.”

“It bothers you one of them is probably fucking the other one right now.”

“I don’t know if bother’s the right word. I mean, CJ’s sixteen. You and I lost our virginities way before his age. Him calling me a hypocrite during our argument keeps haunting me.”

“Yeah, by the time I was sixteen there wasn’t much I hadn't done,” chuckled César. “At least he’s not a pothead like I was.”

“And that’s good! Something else I’d have to worry about. He did admit to getting high in Chicago. And I’m sure he and the cronies back in Washington do it now and then. Maybe we need another talk about drug use? You know a preventive measure kinda thing?”

“That’s fine, but I wouldn’t make a big deal of it. I think what happened between Dragon and King affected him more than he let on. He’d grown close to both. Seeing them break up because of drugs and group sex is a heck of a lot more effective than a speech from us.”

“You’re probably right. I know he called both before we left town. CJ mentioned drinking at the concert and today at lunch, yet he limited himself to one glass of wine at dinner.” Brett turned on the air conditioner and shut the windows. He had an evil grin on his face. “I don’t want to hear either of them howling at the moon if they go at it.”

“Oh, fuck. Now I got bad images in my mind…”

“Pervert! One of the reasons I’ve not raised a big stink about Owen is I don’t want CJ to shut us out. Plus, I do like the surfer dude. I think we’re going to enjoy having him around when he moves.”

“Going back to alcohol. I know sooner or later we’ll deal with a drunken night, puke, and a horrible hangover. He’s a teenager after all. But if we don’t make a big deal about a drink once in a while, I’m hoping we’ll delay the inevitable.”

“Well, I’m hoping one of them is limping tomorrow morning. And trust me, I will make a big deal about it.”

“You’re an evil man, Captain. I think I need to punish you. Turn on your stomach and present your butt…”

 

Monday, 30 December 2013

CJ woke up with his erection poking between Owen’s butt cheeks, and his arms wrapped around the bigger man. He didn’t bother to open his eyes. Instead, a small smile formed on his lips, and after a few minutes, he hugged the Aussie closer to his body. The smile grew when Owen moaned and pushed back against him.

“No glove, no love,” said the teen.

“Fuck! How can you spit out one-liners so early in the morning?”

“I’ve been awake for a little bit. It felt so nice to just hold you, I didn’t want to move.”

“How about moving enough to get a glove?”

“You serious?” asked a surprised CJ. “Aren’t you sore? The third time last night I was pretty rough on you. Or in you, as the case may be. Damn using correct grammar.”

“There’s kinda dull ache back there. But it feels nice. You up for another root?”

“Well, I was sort of hoping you’d return the favor today,” whispered CJ.

“Really?” Owen sounded surprised. He turned around until he was facing CJ. “You sure? You want me to be the first one?”

“Yeah…”

“Look, it’s going to take some time to get you ready. And it’ll still hurt some the first time. I’ll make you a deal. You do me again right now, tonight I’ll take care of you.”

“Deal! Hand me the lube and a condom. Might as well make use of my morning boner.”

“We’re gonna have to stop somewhere and get more of them. I have a feeling we’re going to run out before you fly back home.”

“I hope so!”

 

“Bloody poofters!”

Brett stopped so abruptly, the man ran into him. The rest of the guys heard the comment and also stopped on the spot. They were climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge, harnessed to a steel cable running along the railing of the catwalk, some four hundred feet above the roadway.

“What the fuck did you say?” shouted the marine. He dropped his sunglasses to his chest and stared down at the guy who had spoken right behind him. With the five Americans, and Owen not moving, the tour guide unhooked herself and walked back a few feet to figure out what was happening.

“Decent Christians shouldn’t have to watch you people touching each other.”

“You have a problem with me touching my husband?” asked an irate Brett. “Yeah, you heard me right. My husband. And that’s our son at the head of the line. People like you need to move into the twenty-first century.”

“I don’t have to do anything. You and your progressive ways are ruining families. We don’t need your kind here in Australia.”

“Might as well get used to it, buddy. Equality is taking over the world. And your right-wing, religious, regressive ways are going to be buried.”

“Jarhead!” called out César, grabbing hold of Brett’s arm. The fact they were all tethered together, above a roadway full of vehicles, didn’t allow much movement. “Stop it. Why are you wasting your time with someone who’s obviously been brainwashed by his religion?”

“Leave them alone, Edwin,” said the woman standing next to the belligerent man. “Look at the six of them. They are all bigger than you. Any of them could bloody well kill you. They’re not bothering anyone anyway.”

After the confrontation atop the bridge, the guide asked the belligerent man to switch to the end of the line and profusely apologized to Brett and the rest of the group. Almost four hours after they had first donned the jumpsuits they’d been required to wear, the six men had emerged from the Bridge Climb building into a bright warm day.

César left once they’d finished the morning activities dragging Brett with him―who was still fuming over the incident. They were having lunch with partners from the EY Sydney office. A courtesy, his Dad called it. Taking Brett with him was insurance against being kept around all afternoon talking shop.

 

“Mate, I wouldn’t want your dad upset with me,” said Owen, placing an arm over CJ’s shoulders. “I thought he was gonna rip the tradie’s head off.”

“He and I have had one big argument since I moved to Washington. I knew he wasn’t about to hit me, but his screaming was bad enough.” CJ spoke with his head somewhat turned so JP and Tom, following a step behind, could hear him. “Papa’s bark is usually enough to get people’s attention, but today I thought he was ready to throw the tradie, as you called him, over the railing. What’s that mean, anyway?”

“A tradie’s someone who works in the trades,” answered JP. “A plumber, carpenter, electrician, or something similar. I think there’s a website some woman runs, where they post pictures of themselves, trying to get recognition for being hot.”

“Ummm, I may have to look it up.” CJ wiggled his eyebrows and winked at the two men behind him.

“No, you won’t,” said Owen, extremely fast. “You don’t need to check out any other Aussies. So what did you think about the bridge climb?”

While Tom and JP guffawed, CJ put his arm around Owen’s waist, pulled him close, and momentarily rested his head on his friend’s shoulder. “A little jealous there? Nice change in topics!”

“Excuse me,” said Tom. “Is there something going on between the two of you we should know about?”

“NO!” replied both young men simultaneously.

“I think that means there’s nothing going on we should know about.” JP patted CJ on the arm, affectionately rubbing his bicep. “Aren’t I right, mate? Because if you’re trying to hide whatever it is you’re doing, it’s not working. The whole bloody world can figure out something’s happening.”

“Okay, so yeah. Going back to how I liked the bridge climb. I thought it was sick!” Ignoring JP’s comments and question, and returning to the topic he’d called an attempt at misdirection, brought uproarious laughter from the other three. “But I want to walk the regular walkway. It sucks we can’t bring cameras to the climb. I want to get pictures of the Opera House from the bridge.”

“At least they give you the one complimentary picture of the entire group,” put in Tom. “And your father bought the disc with the ones of the six of us alone.”

“Yeah, I want you to e-mail me those pics, CJ.” Owen pointed ahead, in the direction they’d been walking. “There, that’s where we’re going. There’s a great Vietnamese street-food place in the court. We can pick up and go sit anywhere we want.”

 

“How was it, Dad?” asked CJ, when his fathers rejoined the group on the steps of the Sydney Opera House. The complex sat on Bennelong Point, across the Circular Quay wharves from The Rocks. It would be an easy walk back to their hotel once they were done with their tour.

“Not bad. Nice people and good food.” Brett sat down next to Owen on the concrete step. “But they bored me to death!”

“It wasn’t that bad, Jarhead,” said César, gently kicking his husband’s shoe. “They did try to talk business all the time, but beach dude here kept asking about the best surf spots in the area. One of the partners is a surfer so he and Brett spent most of the time drinking martinis and talking.”

“Those damn things were good! We’ll have to go someplace we can get green tea martinis tonight!”

Tom stood, offering JP a hand while shaking his head. “This whole trip’s turning into nothing but an excuse to drink. Let’s go tour this joint and see if we can absorb some culture. JP and I already bought tickets for all of us.”

Brett jumped up and threw his hands in the air. “What the fuck’s this world coming to? An Irishman complaining about drinking. What’s in the bag, CJ?”

“The stuff we got at the bridge and some things I bought at the gift shop here while Uncle JP got the tickets. A book about the history and architecture of the place, and a small-scale model of the building.”

“So, are you going to be our tour guide?” asked César.

“Nope. We get a real one to walk us through the place. And we better get to the meeting point. Our tour starts in like ten minutes.”

CJ snapped several dozen pictures during the tour, both inside and out. Walls, ceilings, windows, steps, and anything else he found interesting. “Randy and Ty are going to be so jealous,” said the teen halfway through the tour. Their guide had stopped in front of the foyer’s glass curtain windows facing the bay. The view of the Harbour Bridge and sailboats plowing through the water was magnificent.

“Who are they?” asked Owen.

“Randy’s my cousin, he’s studying architecture. Tyler’s his boyfriend, he’s a foreman in my uncle’s construction company.”

“Are they in Miami or do they live in Washington too?”

“I guess they’re in Washington right now. They’re staying at our house over New Year’s. But they live in Chicago. I’ll send them an e-mail with some pictures like I did after visiting interesting spots in New York. They were bitching about me being lucky to have the chance to visit this place.”

 

“Are you sure?” Owen ran his fingers through the thatch of hair on CJ’s chest. The request made him hesitate momentarily.

CJ’s smile broadened. Placing his hand behind the Aussie’s neck, he pulled their heads together so they could kiss. “Definitely. I want to feel you inside me.”

While nibbling his way down CJ’s chest, Owen opened the bottle of lube they’d thrown on the bed and poured some on his fingers. He spent time circling the teen’s nipples with his tongue; his hand reaching between CJ’s legs until his fingers made contact with the opening. He smothered the entire hairy area with the slippery substance, his fingers caressing the hole the entire time. He gently inserted the tip of one and held it there waiting for a reaction.

“You don’t have to go so slow,” gasped CJ. “I’ve played with myself back there often enough.”

“Oh, you have, have you?” replied Owen as he plunged the finger in, spreading lube all around. “You ready for two fingers?”

“Nope.”

“No?” Owen momentarily stopped what he was doing. He stared up at CJ with worry on his face. But all he saw on the teen was a smile and a look of contentment.

“No. Forget the fingers. I want you in me. Now!”