- Author
- 01/05/2017
- 2,239 Words
- 4,049 Views
- 16 Comments
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Predator Prey - 17. Welcome
After greeting his husband with equal parts passion and warmth, Oscar Quintana welcomed the new arrival with open arms and a bone-crushing hug. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't this. Where Javier Cabrera was short and compact, Oscar was tall and broad and barrel-chested. Where Javier had a full head of hair, Oscar's was cut short and his hairline was definitely in retreat. Where Javier Cabrera had rarely cracked a smile, Oscar could hardly stop beaming. Oscar was much more effusive than his reserved engineer husband, but Javier just seemed to radiate pleasure in the presence of Oscar’s lavish attention.
Even in the first two minutes, he noted the pair shared some attributes. Oscar and Javier were both black haired, coffee-eyed Cubanos. Both filled out their clothes admirably – Oscar even more than Javier, in fact. And both seemed to welcome him as a stranger into their home.
"Wally, I'm really glad to meet you. Javier called to tell me you were coming, and it's no trouble," Oscar said, waving away the protest that was about to arise. "The guestroom is all ready for you. Do you need something to drink? A beer, maybe? You must want a real shower for once, right? And then maybe a nap out back by the pool?"
He was taken aback by the outpouring of words. "Yeah. Sounds good." After a moment's time to think about it, Oscar certainly appeared to have a sound plan.
"That's what Javier always wants, anyway," the big man grinned. "Go on, Javi, go shower. I'll take care of Wally."
Cabrera exited down a hallway off the living room. "Now, what about supper? You can handle Cuban steak, right? Anything you don't eat?" His host hardly paused to let him shrug. "Is that the only bag you have?" the big man inquired.
"Um, yeah. The duffel and this,” he lifted his book bag and shifted the duffel awkwardly on his shoulder.
"Okay, right this way, my friend." Oscar led the way down the same corridor that Javier had taken a moment earlier. Several doors down and to the left, a door opened into a spacious bedroom. Cool green light filtered through wide windows which looked out into dense vegetation at the side of the house. "Is this okay?"
"It's great. Thanks."
"Here's the bathroom off to the side. You share it with my son Michael, so keep the door shut and knock. Your towels are the green ones on that rack, and there are spare swimsuits in that drawer. I think there's going to be something in there that fits you," Oscar indicated with his hand. "Please let me know if you need something."
"Geez, you sound like this is a hotel."
The big man laughed. "Yeah, it sometimes feels that way. But we like to have people come to stay over, and believe me, you’re not the first lost soul Javier brought home."
"Well, thanks, Oscar," he repeated. "I think I'll get that shower now."
"Fine. And if you want to lie out by the pool, you can go out through the kitchen."
Oscar smiled and headed back down the hall. He closed the bedroom door and pulled some cleaner clothes out of his duffel. He padded into the bathroom, making sure the pass through door to the stepson's side was locked. Then he closed himself in and stripped. For the first time in almost four weeks, he luxuriated in taking a long, hot shower.
The water cascaded over his body, running down his spine, heating his shoulders, washing away sweat and dust of the past twenty four hours. He washed his hair. He soaped up his chest, arms and legs, and tried to scrub the smell of the Feigenbaum off. It wasn't a bad smell, he decided, but he just wanted not to smell of ship for a while.
Inevitably, the hot relaxing spray and the slippery soap had other parts of him stirring. It had been well over a month since he'd had anyone in his bed, and he'd been too tired or rushed to jack off much on board ship. He craved release. His tool stood out at attention, and his hand slid deliciously along its length. God, he wouldn't last long at all. A few quick strokes, that's all it would take. He anticipated the pleasure.
And then another thought intruded: the memory of a sharp object getting ready to pierce him under the ribs, the stink of unwashed scientist demanding his ass. And after that memory, the recollection of that horrible night in his own bed – becoming the unwilling party favor – flooded his brain. Suddenly his rigid cock deflated. He shivered under the stream of warm water. No. There would be no climax now. He tried to shake the memories out of his brain.
Rinsing off, he stopped the flow of water, and toweled himself dry.
He considered the drawer Oscar had pointed out. Maybe he could just lie out by the pool. Not five minutes later, with a fluffy towel draped over his shoulder and clad in a tight scarlet Speedo, he padded down the hall. The kitchen was to his left through an opening. He stopped.
There was a noise. He listened intently for a moment. Low voices. A subtle rhythmic thump. A soft moan. He understood. A brief, hot scene flashed before his imagination; Javier buried balls deep inside Oscar , the larger man's legs wrapped around his lover, forcing him deeper still.
A pang of emotion swept through him like a gust of wind.. What was it? Sadness? Jealousy? Desire? He could hardly blame Javier and Oscar; the cruise had lasted over three weeks. Sighing, he walked through the kitchen and pulled open a large sliding glass door that opened to a shaded patio area.
The small pool itself was in the sunshine, but he could choose shade or sun to lie out in. The whole thing was covered by an enormous screen structure; pretty much standard everyplace if mosquitoes and other biting insects were to be avoided. Still, this was very nice, and reasonably warm for late January. He chose a lounge chair in the sun and stretched out. He closed his eyes for a short nap. Maybe he'd swim later.
He was awakened by someone tapping his shoulder. He cursed, mentally. He'd been deeply asleep much longer than he'd meant to be.
"Hey, you're Wally, right?"
He managed to focus on the speaker. A boy, maybe sixteen, seventeen years old?
"Dad said to tell you to move, or you're gonna cook." The boy grinned. He, too was clad in a Speedo, this one dark blue, nearly black.
He cursed himself for forgetting sunscreen. Groaning a little, he sat up. "Thanks. You must be…Michael, right?"
"Yeah, I'm Michael. Not Mike."
Now fully awake and aware, he gave Michael-not-Mike a swift once-over. Dark, curly haired, nearly black eyes, Latin good looks. Body coming into real definition. And there was definitely something lurking under that swimsuit. Shit. Why couldn't Michael have been overweight, pimply and nearsighted? The next five days could be tough. He held out his hand.
"Wally." What could he say? Everyone knew him by that now.
"I'm getting in." Michael spun, and not a second later, he was swimming the length of the abbreviated pool.
Long, smooth strokes and a fluid turn told him Michael was a competitive swimmer. He smiled. He hadn't raced in years, but maybe a little challenge was better than lusting after his hosts' son. A moment later, he dove in and started doing laps of his own. In about five or six short trips back and forth, his body remembered the motion, the turn, the push. He returned to his starting point to find Michael standing at the side, waiting for him. Michael was taller than he was, he noticed.
"Hey, Wally, you want to race? Ten laps?"
"How'd you know?"
"I guessed," Michael grinned. "Nice turn."
"Thanks. Good guess."
They clambered out of the pool, and got set to start. Remembered years of swim practices came back to him.
"I'll start us – on 'go,' all right?" Michael was in charge here.
"Sure."
"On your marks. Get set. Go.” And his muscles responded as if five years hadn't intervened.
He flew off the patio deck and into the pool. He sprinted forward, resisting the urge to steal a glance to see where Michael was. Focus. Stroke, kick, turn. Tighter strokes, stronger pull, concentrate on balance. He tried to keep count of his laps; eight, nine. Last turn, last push, finish now. He touched the wall perhaps two or three seconds behind Michael. Hell, this kid was quick.
"Whew." Michael was breathing heavily. "You're fast, dude! Nobody comes close to catching me most of the time."
He grinned. "I raced in high school."
"You don't swim anymore?"
He shook his head. "I stopped after I graduated." No. He didn’t swim anymore. He'd given all that up as the polar permafrost had descended at home when he’d been outed. He was amazed his stroke had come back to him like that; he'd actually enjoyed himself for a few moments.
"Dude, you should've kept going with it."
He winced. He didn't want to remember the rejection. The isolation as his so-called friends walked away, one by one. "No, I'd finished with it by then. Thanks for the race, though." He hauled himself out of the pool and reached for his towel.
Michael pushed off and did a few more laps, then climbed out, too. The boy looked at him more closely as he finished drying himself off. Was he being checked out? Six weeks ago, he'd have welcomed the inspection. Come on boy, come join my study group. He'd surely have considered trying to snare Michael if he'd been on campus.
But not now. Not after…ugh. And given Javier's warning, he cursed himself for not bringing a shirt out with him to cover up. Michael was about to say something when the sliding door to the kitchen opened.
"Hey guys, supper's about ready. Wally, what do you want to drink? Beer, wine? Water?" Oscar called out.
"Water's fine."
Michael turned back to him. "I'm going in to throw on some clothes."
"Yeah, good idea." He wondered if he had anything clean in his duffel. He thought he might. First order of business was to ask Oscar and Javier if he could do some laundry. He followed the teen indoors, trying very hard not to look at his ass.
Supper turned out to be pan-fried steak, with spiced rice. He practically inhaled what was set in front of him, it was that good. Oscar seemed absurdly pleased. Michael finished his almost as speedily, and both of them nodded when Javier asked if they wanted more. Oscar seemed to know how to cook for hungry young men. There was plenty.
"Come on, Wally, you need some more," Oscar coaxed later on.
"No, really, Oscar, I…"
"You're gonna hurt his feelings, man," Javier growled. But there was a definite smirk.
"You don't like it?" Oscar's deep dark eyes had gotten large; they seemed to take on a liquid quality.
"No…it's good, really good…I guess I could have a little more," he stammered, giving in.
"So, finish this up, you and Javi can split it," the big man smiled triumphantly.
"Damn, Oscar, it's not good to make Bambi eyes at your guests," Javier laughed, and Michael joined in.
He smiled despite himself. He'd just seen Javier laugh.
"That's Oscar's secret weapon, watch out," Michael added.
He didn't really mind. He hadn't eaten this well in…well, he just couldn't remember.
"Hey dads? Can I go out with Trey tonight? A couple of us are getting together at his house." Michael's question suddenly turned Oscar serious.
"It's a school night, isn't it?"
"I got all my homework done."
The two older men looked at each other.
"And I won't be out late," the boy added. His pleading eyes proved the validity of genetic science.
"How late?"
"I'll be home by ten."
"Nine thirty," said Oscar.
"Okay," agreed Michael with a smile, knowing a successful negotiation had been concluded. "Can I go now?"
"Sure, fine," Oscar smiled, unable to grumble.
He insisted on helping Oscar and Javier with the cleanup. As he rinsed dishes and loaded the dishwasher, the two mates talked about household matters and chores that had accumulated in Javier's absence.
"Gonna have to do some cutting and trimming around the yard," observed Javier. "The pool pump still needs to be replaced. And maybe I'll change the oil on the car," he added.
"Tomorrow, Javi. Tomorrow. Tonight, relax."
Relaxation meant joining the two men in front of an action movie on the wide screen TV, Javier and Oscar snuggled up together on the couch. He'd never have guessed Javier Cabrera to be a snuggler, but the evidence was right there in front of him.
He couldn't help feeling a little envious. These men had what Lee and Marc had discovered. It was something he'd never known, not really. He doubted he ever would. That thought gnawed at him through the second half of the film. He felt uncomfortable; unworthy of this, somehow.
Before the movie ended, he stood and stretched. "Thanks, guys. I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
Javier smiled and nodded.
"Good night, Wally," Oscar grinned.
He wondered how late they'd stay up.
Thanks also to everyone who adds a review or makes a comment, of any sort or nature. I appreciate everything you say.
-
44
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Recommended Comments
Chapter Comments
-
Newsletter
Sign UpSign Up and get an occasional Newsletter. Fill out your profile with favorite genres and say yes to genre news to get the monthly update for your favorite genres.