Unexpected Gift - 4. Chapter 4: St Lucia

It didn’t take long, a few days at most, for the awkwardness of a new relationship to fade, at least for Josh. What would happen after the cruise ended was still up in the air, but Josh tried not to think about it too much. He wanted to make the most of the time he had left with Chris, which wasn’t much. They’d spent most of the time between Chris’s cabin, no sex, just some kissing and sleeping that ended up with Josh wrapped around Chris a little too tightly for Chris’s comfort, though Chris was quick to reassure him that the problem was only the unfamiliarity of someone sharing his bed, and that he would get used to it soon enough. He tried to loosen up some. The problem was he was comfortable; comfort meant he was happy for Chris to know he wanted to hold him close. Chris was too easy going—or polite—to object to things Josh seemed to like, like his easy physical affection, so he just hoped that now that they were together, and would be for the rest of the cruise, and somehow after, he would ease up on his own. Sometimes it was better not to complicate things; they were learning about each other, after all. It had left Josh raw when Chris had admitted his own long-standing attraction, since Josh never really saw it or felt it. It was just Chris’s way, though: He kept himself in check. Josh suspected that part of Chris would always exist and would be something he’d have to learn to understand wasn’t a personal insult. His reserve and his manners were two of his defining features—even when they acted to his detriment.

On Christmas Day, Chris’s cell phone had simply never stopped: when it wasn’t beeping with a text message, it was ringing, and he seemed to feel obliged to respond. Every other thing out of his mouth had been an apology to Josh for taking the call or checking the message, but he had seemed horrified when Josh suggested that he just ignore it for a while. After the ninth elderly lady had bored Chris witless with the same account of Mrs. Pinsentt’s unsatisfactory performance at Eucharist, Josh had persuaded one of the staff to remove and hide the offending object for the sake of Chris’s sanity. Chris had only freaked out briefly after its ‘disappearance’, and when Josh returned it that evening, he would have sworn that Chris was as grateful to him for having made it disappear as he was for him giving it back. He needed protection from his own courtesy, and Josh was happy to provide it.

However reserved Chris remained in public, though, he was definitely loosening up in private. The urgency of that first time against the door never quite reappeared, but Josh could not bring himself to be disappointed with the range of affection and sensuality that replaced it; he was tactile in a way that thrilled Josh to the core. Disinclination to be cuddled tightly all night notwithstanding, he didn’t seem to be able to be within reach of Josh without touching him, whether by a brush of elbows or tap of knees, or by pressing Josh into the couch and playing him like the instruments he spent his life handling. Every day was a discovery, and each seemed to go by quicker than the last.

Josh wasn’t ready for their time together to end.

***

It was sunny and bright on the island. They walked down the busy street, through the market. Josh took hold of Chris’s hand; their fingers slotted together and they continued on toward the church. Josh wanted to feel connected to Chris. Josh felt the need to be close, since these moments were precious in their rarity. The church had been Chris’s idea, among other things more salacious than just walking and looking. Josh had agreed, as long as they went to the art studio, too. The brochure on the boat was vibrant and full of ideas.

The church was typical on the outside: A façade of brownstone and a belfry rose behind the building. Inside, it looked like the sun had drenched the walls: orange paint colored the inside of the church. There were stained-glass windows and murals of Jesus, and a priest with green and orange accents. Josh thought it was interesting and wondered what it must be like to have mass in such a place, so full of life and teeming with color. The church he’d attended throughout his youth and teenage years had been full of stained-glass windows and white walls, nothing like feeling like being inside the sun. He took some photos and watched locals mix with the tourists. A few people sat in prayer. Josh had a feeling that Chris was hoping to get his hands on the organ, but there wasn’t anyone about to ask. It seemed the staff and priest were tending to their flock. Chris didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t get to play. He also didn’t seem to mind his hand laced with Josh’s as they moved about the church, for which Josh was grateful. In private was one thing, but public was different. Chris had reacted poorly to a kiss in public, but it seemed that hand-holding was safe enough. Even if some of the looks they got were less than supportive.

After the church, they took a taxi to the edge of the island to an art studio. Josh had been curious about the process of working with wood ever since he read the pamphlet about the popular art on the island. His hobbies were more reading and playing cards than crafting something with his hands, but he recognized talent when he saw it. He took Chris’s hand again once inside the estate grounds, wanting to remember every second of their last moments on the cruise together. They were a couple, now, and Josh wanted that to last as long as he could. The days were growing shorter and shorter, it seemed, and even though there was time left, there wasn’t enough. He hadn’t started out wanting to meet someone, but Chris had just been there. It was like fate had intervened, or if Josh were still religious, he might he thanking God for meeting Chris. He thought for a moment and wished he had thanked God while they were at the church. If someone hadn’t screwed up with the luggage, they may have never crossed paths or even spoken more than a few words in passing, and now they toured a gallery with a bunch of strangers with their fingers intertwined.

Josh couldn’t be happier. He looked around at the art and admired a few pieces. He’d never been terribly creative, not like this. He’d taken the requisite English classes in college and high school, but never anything so hands on. They watched from the back of the pack of tourists as a man carved something into a block of wood. It wasn’t clear what the artist was trying to create, but his effort and heart were in the soul of the piece already.

There were a lot of pieces that Josh couldn’t afford, but there were plenty of interesting pieces that he didn’t have a problem spending money on. He settled on a small carving of what looked like two people embracing. In his imagination, it was him and Chris together.

***

Josh got out of the shower and peered into the room he and Chris had taken to sharing. His now-tanned skin stood out against the bedding, which was folded down to his waist as it always was: He couldn’t sleep muffled up to the neck. Taking a moment to appreciate the view, Josh was glad Chris had started sleeping without the t-shirt. He must have been on the cusp of sleep; his breathing wasn’t deep yet and he was still supine instead of on his side. Josh felt the familiar stirring of arousal as he watched the man breathe, drinking in the picture he presented. All the lingering soreness from their frantic sex against the wall was now gone; it had been for days, and he wasn’t sure what had kept them from moving beyond making out like teenagers. It wasn’t lack of inclination on either part. He dropped the towel when he was done drying off, heading straight to the bed. So much of Chris was exposed—Josh wanted to have his hands and mouth everywhere, from his exposed sternum and biceps to the thighs and groin hidden beneath the sheets.

His knees hit the mattress first, and it dipped slightly under his weight. The sheets gathered up under his palms, became a straight line when he slid closer. He stopped beside Chris and just looked at his body. Though he’d seen it a few times already, this was the best view. He looked peaceful, utterly relaxed, the lines of his torso racehorse-slim and only lightly muscled but undeniably masculine. He had tanned to a golden honey shade that Josh itched to taste.

Josh leaned over Chris and balanced with one hand beside his body; Chris didn’t stir. He reached out with the other and traced Chris’s hipbone, just stroking the curvature from his front to back with the tips of his fingers, a stroke here, a caress up toward his ribs there. Chris grew warmer, more color rising at his neck, around his shoulders. Even his chest looked daubed pink; it was starting to match his nipples. Josh repositioned and lowered himself to be closer to Chris’s mouth, his throat.

Chris wasn’t beautiful—was he? Could men be beautiful?—but he was the most incredible person Josh had ever seen. Being able to touch him, watch his body react and know that he wanted it just as much as Josh took Josh’s breath away. Josh leaned forward and pressed his lips to Chris’s, a now-familiar feeling of comfort and pleasure. Everything about Chris was intoxicating. This was what he’d wanted against the door, the touch of skin without the harsh friction of cotton and wool. He wanted to look, see how Chris reacted to his cock or earlobe being sucked, or if he liked a nip to his neck or preferred the gentle swipe of tongue... there was so much still to learn.

Chris shifted, moaning; Josh stopped and watched him. He blinked a few times, eyes widening.

“You okay?”

“Mm.” Sleep-heavy, he sounded even sexier.

Josh smiled. “Good.” He kissed Chris deep and firm. The response was immediate. A little slow, sleepy, but still interested—a lazy slide of tongues and warmth between them. Josh shifted the comforter and sheet aside, moving to settle between Chris’s legs, which parted easily to cradle him. Josh slid his erection against Chris’s groin and was pleased by the answering interest; Chris wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t far from it. He looked awake now, his eyes dark and the flush on his chest and neck deepening. Bracing himself on his knees, Josh ran his hand from Chris’s groin, which earned him a sound of appreciation, up over his pelvis and stomach, then down again. Feeling the gradual change from interest to full-blown desire, Josh buried his face in Chris’s chest, kissing the edge of his pectorals, saturated with the heat of his rising arousal. Skilled fingers moved through his hair, and Josh rolled his hips, pressing down against the soft swell of Chris’s balls. He made a sound that shot down Josh’s spine, lit him up from the inside out.

Chris’s fingers clamped down, pulled Josh up by the hair, until their lips and tongues were together, echoing the slide of cock against cock, only with no barriers to the touch. Chris met and answered every movement, matching the rhythm Josh set. It felt too good too soon. His body remembered the last time they were flush, rubbing so hard he’d been sore for days. Sore in the best ways. But he didn’t want frantic and a dull ache—at least, not that dull ache.

Skilled hands found their way to his ass, kneading and guiding him into a surging grind that made fireworks burst behind his eyes. It was too much and nowhere near enough. He gripped Chris’s thigh, clenched around his hip, and slid his hand down. Chris shifted his leg higher, opening himself to Josh’s probing touch, and Josh’s head swam at the sudden possibilities.

Then he remembered. “Shit. Shit. Okay, don’t move. I’ll be right back. I need to get some condoms.” Josh ran his lips across Chris’s jaw. “I promise I won’t be long.”

Josh untangled himself and dug out some clothes from his suitcase beside the bed. Damn stupid idea to start sex and not have the necessary materials. He cursed and pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt and shoved his feet into his sandals. He exhaled, tucking his leaking cock carefully into his jeans, unable to contain the groan at the pressure when he forced the fly to fasten. Chris looked too good to leave. The upside was he’d get to finish what he’d started as soon as he returned.

Finding condoms and lube took long enough that Chris was on his stomach and breathing calmly by the time Josh got back; when the door closed, he slanted a look like nothing Josh had ever seen on his face before over his shoulder—it wasn’t so much a come-on as a challenge. Josh pressed the heel of his hand hard against the base of his cock to cut off his reaction before it could bring the event to an early close and tossed the box and tube onto the bed, freeing his hands to strip faster than he ever had before. Chris propped himself on an elbow to watch, openly appreciative.

Josh moved the sheets tangled around Chris’s legs and took a moment to admire the view. Chris began to shift. Before he could turn, Josh moved; he lay his chest against the length of Chris’s back and kissed his straight hairline at his nape. Chris pushed back against his mouth and made a noise that shot down Josh’s spine, twisting as he reached back to capture a handful of Josh’s hair and draw him into another searing kiss. The sharp edge of lust that had dissipated while Josh was seeking supplies flashed back into pulsating life. His heart was beating so fast it was like he’d run the length of the ship to get back to Chris, back to this moment. The way Chris commanded the direction of their kiss had him breathing hard enough that he was light-headed and half drunk on the man under him. He ran his hand through Chris’s hair, his other arm quaking from holding himself up.

“How do you like it?” Josh rubbed his cock against Chris’s warm skin, aching for an answer.

“What?” His voice sounded as wrecked as Josh’s felt, heavy and husky with arousal.

“Sex. How do you like it?”

“Mmm.” Chris arched upwards to reach Josh’s mouth and kissed him, his shoulder against Josh’s chest. It was an awkward angle, but Chris pushed, hungry and demanding even though he had to strain. He was gorgeous; it was one of the most incredible things Josh had ever seen. He committed every line and curve to memory, so that when this was an island in his mind, there would be a grain of sand devoted to this moment.

“How do you like it?”

Chris laughed. “I like it good.”

Josh pushed himself up and ran his fingers down Chris’s spine. “So do I. Okay, so do you top or bottom?”

“As long as it’s good, I don’t really have a preference.” His shoulder twitched in a half-shrug. “There’s a degree to which it depends who I’m with.”

“Okay.” Josh ran his hands down Chris’s flank, balanced on his knees.

“What’s your preference?”

“Top, but I’m not against trying new things.” Josh kissed his way down to the dip of Chris’s ass. Every bit of him smelled good. Tasted better.

“Good. I don’t think I’d want to give that up entirely.”

“Mm. I’m not a stereotype. I hope.” There wasn’t anything he could think of that he wouldn’t do with Chris; that scared and surprised him in a way that tangled up in his mind and sat in the middle of his chest like a knot.

Josh reached for the lube and flipped the cap open. The gel was cold on his fingers; he ran his thumb through it, trying to warm it before he touched Chris. He bit lightly down on Chris’s fabulous ass and slid his fingers down until he could feel the whorl of Chris’s asshole; it twitched and fluttered under his fingertips. Little by little, he felt Chris relax. He pushed two fingers in, felt Chris loosen then clamp around him. Then there was just inside Chris. The slow grip and slide of his fingers as he thrust, spreading as much of the lube as he could. There was no such thing as too much lube, and Josh wouldn’t be that guy who hurt his lover because he couldn’t be patient for a few more minutes. Chris was already trusting him with this, with his body, and Josh wasn’t going to do anything to show that trust was misplaced.

Time lost its meaning while Josh worked on opening Chris. His body was warm and softly clinging, and so close to ready that Josh’s cock ached at the thought. He pressed against Chris and rubbed in a similar rhythm to the in-out of his fingers. When Chris was finally moaning and his breath hitched, Josh pulled his fingers out and wiped them on his discarded t-shirt. The lube had turned on its side, a little pouring out onto the bed, like the pre-come glistening on Chris’s thigh and ass. He picked it up and fumbled with the box of condoms. He ripped the packet open with his teeth and rolled it down his cock, trying not to fumble under Chris’s heated gaze. More lube, down the length, a few strokes, and he lined up. He knew it was going to be tight—not just because of how long it had been for Chris, but because Chris’s thighs were between his. This position, straddling from behind, was more intimate than Chris with his ass in the air. This way, he could go slow, or fast, and he still had access to Chris’s mouth, his shoulders…

He angled his hips and guided his cock into Chris, moaning as he slipped inside. Chris echoed him, his hips rising to meet Josh. He rocked, squirmed, but Josh steadied himself and kept his movements slow. Finding a rhythm was easy, as easy as breathing. He thrust with a roll of hips, barely pulling back, moving only enough to feel the clutch of Chris around him. He panted against Chris’s shoulder, his name, how good it felt, moans of appreciation and pleasure. Chris responded in his own way, moving against Josh, like it just wasn’t enough. Josh knew the feeling. It felt good, but something was missing. He stopped and withdrew, panting.

“Turn over.” His voice broke, but the sight was something to behold: Chris was panting and reaching for Josh, his legs opening in invitation, fingers gripping at his arms and skin. This was nothing like the usual Chris, tightly reserved and slow to warm up. Josh knew then that this was not something given lightly; it was more than just sex. It was reciprocated trust, him when the walls were down and he didn’t have to think; he could act on instinct and desire.

Josh lowered himself to kiss Chris and felt the other man’s fingers close around him, guiding him back inside. Josh thrust only to stay seated where he was; Chris was moving again, shifting his legs around Josh’s hips and using his own leverage to make Josh move. He didn’t have to say a word. Josh understood; he was sex, pure and simple. His cock was red and soft against his abdomen, and he didn’t touch himself. But the way he moved and the sounds he made told Josh it wasn’t a requirement for his pleasure.

Still, Josh couldn’t resist; reaching down, he took hold of Chris’s cock and stroked, alternating his hip thrusts with the pump of his arm. That seemed to be perfect. Chris arched and moaned, his body shaking beneath Josh. He hardened in Josh’s hand, leaving a sticky trail across his skin. Chris unraveled a little more with each stroke and thrust. His face looked like a manifestation of ecstasy, it struck to Josh’s core and set light to something in his bones. He wiped sweat from his brow and moved faster, deeper until he felt Chris tighten around him: legs, ass, grip on his arms. His whole body clenched and the sound he made struck Josh in the balls, hot and electric, ripping through him like lightning. Josh jerked, groaned, pleasure sweeping through him in a dizzying rush. He felt lighter than air and barely heard the tangled litany of awe and praise that tumbled from Chris’s lips.

There was an endless moment of rapture while Chris panted, lax under him, and he slumped, collapsing onto Chris’s chest.

He had no idea how long he stayed there, boneless and spread out over the other man. He was aware, as his senses returned, that he didn’t want to separate from Chris yet, but practicality and willpower prevailed: He took hold of the base of the condom and withdrew. He recognized a twinge of arousal at the sight of Chris’s hole going from loose enough to take him to a tiny, twitching furl. Chris looked drunk and satisfied; Josh felt wobbly, as if reality had taken a cruise of its own. He lay down next to Chris and pulled him in for a lazy, sloppy kiss. There were things he wanted to say but couldn’t; the words escaped him, and even if he could find them, Chris wouldn’t be ready to hear them. Instead, he showed his care with a warm, damp washcloth.

The bed was a mess, but Josh had a feeling they’d only be sharing a portion of it. He let Chris get up without complaint, when he was ready to freshen up.

When the room was dark and Chris was sleeping deeply, his arm lying along the line of Josh’s wrapped around his waist, Josh whispered against his ear. “I love you.”

***

Time was not on their side. Josh knew that, but he tried not to let it bother him. There were only a few excursions left before the boat returned to port and their normal lives resumed. They sat at one of the cafés and had a drink after lunch: a sweet and refreshing orange juice popular on the island. Josh rested his hand just over Chris’s, content. “Is there anything special you want to do before we get back to port?”

“Well, I’d quite like to pop back to the church. The verger said that she’d get the key to the organ loft, and I did promise that I’d play for you properly.”

“You did.” There was a lull. As his mind wandered, Josh started to frown. “I’ve been thinking about what happens after the cruise. I haven’t come up with anything that doesn’t mean one of us relocating. There isn’t, really, I guess. Do we just email and text until we either lose interest or find a solution? I really like you. I wouldn’t want to ruin something potentially worthwhile because of distance.”

Chris picked up the change in subject without comment. “I don’t think it would be entirely reasonable for either of us to uproot completely and travel halfway across the planet at this stage.”

“I know.” Realistically, Josh did know. The impulsive romantic in him wanted that, though, on some level. “I’m not asking you to.”

“And nor would I ask you to.”

Always practical. Sometimes it got in the way, but Josh knew this wasn’t a game that he could press reset on if he screwed up; a relationship involved both of them and had to work by consent. It would never work otherwise. “I think we should give us a chance, though. I’m patient.”

“You can stop trying to sell your good points, you know. I’m well aware of them.” He was amused, but Josh had just felt the need to remind Chris that he was quite happy to wait… and wait some more, if it meant these feelings he had for Chris weren’t going to end up in both of their hearts broken. Josh saw it for the deflection it was; his face went hot and he chuckled.

“Sorry. I mean, there’s webcam chat and other things. I know you stay pretty busy. Email will probably have to be our primary contact. I guess. I’m rambling.” He swept his thumb across Chris’s knuckles. In a few days, he wouldn’t be able to do this anymore, unless it was in his dreams.

They went to the church and Josh sat and watched Chris play the organ.

The music was amazing, but the process took Josh’s breath away. He had expected deft work at the keyboard; he hadn’t expected four keyboards stacked on top of each other, and another laid out as pedals, and the dozens of knobs that changed the sounds made by the pipes. It looked chaotic and bewildering, but at the heart of it all, Chris was a study in focus and skill, drawing melody from the machine.

Josh listened and watched. He had to commit this and every moment with Chris to memory. It could be a long time before he saw him again.

***