Seagull's Bay - 2. "What Does That Say About Me?"

Nicholas stirred from the realm of dreams, his senses subtly reviving to the gentle symphony of waves rhythmically kissing the shore. The seagull's cries, heralds of dawn, pierced the stillness, signaling the beginning of what promised to be another day veiled in a monotonous routine. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a room shrouded in the soft hues of the early morning darkness. The first hints of daylight were just beginning their slow dance through the thin, billowy curtains, chucking a mellow glow across the room.

His gaze drifted to the antiquated clock on the worn-out nightstand. Its hands pointed to 6:30 a.m. The early morning hour was marked by silence, broken only by Elizabeth's rhythmic breaths. She lay in peaceful slumber beside him, her body still bearing the evidence of their passionate indulgence from the previous night.

Moving with deliberate care so as not to disrupt his wife's tranquility, Nicholas slipped out from beneath the warmth of their shared covers. He padded barefoot across the cool wooden floor, making his way to the kitchen space that was a part of their temporary beachfront sanctuary.

He started the familiar ritual of preparing coffee. The act was almost meditative for him, a soothing routine that imparted a semblance of normalcy. As he waited for the coffee maker to work its magic, he felt a slight sense of comfort wash over him.

With a steaming cup in hand, Nicholas claimed a seat at the counter, positioning himself to face a large window that framed an uninterrupted view of the coast. The sight held a serene beauty, momentarily stalling the restlessness that had taken root within him. However, as he savored the taste of his coffee, his thoughts veered towards Marcus.

The image of the young waiter etched itself in his mind: those penetrating dark eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets, the effortlessness with which he moved, and that enigmatic smile, a cryptic promise of depths yet unexplored. Nicholas felt an unfamiliar longing, an unsettling and intriguing sensation. His sexuality was something he had never felt the need to question before. His life with Elizabeth had always appeared to be his destined path. But these new feelings challenged this belief, prompting him to seek an answer.

To clear his mind, Nicholas decided to go for a run. He dressed in his running attire, secured his sneakers, and, with a last glance at the sleeping wife, departed their small beach house. The morning greeted him with a brittle kiss as he began his run along the sandy stretch of the beach.

Seagull's Bay was slowly rousing from its slumber. Nestled between the rolling green hills on one side and the infinite expanse of the ocean on the other, it was a town where time seemed to have paused. The frantic pace of modern life felt like a distant memory here. Quaint houses painted in pastels lined its streets, each with unique charm, while the scent of freshly mowed grass tangled with the salty sea breeze.

Nicholas followed the shoreline, his steps creating a rhythmic soundtrack that harmonized with the steady lull of the waves. He reached the quiet harbor, where fishing boats bobbed idly on the water, their vibrant shades faded by the relentless sun and sea.

Nicholas then pivoted from the harbor onto the cobblestone of Main Street, the pulsating heart of Seagull's Bay. The road, a relic from another era, was lined with an eclectic mix of shops and cafés, each one embodying the town's unique character. The old-fashioned general store stood out prominently. A few doors down, the bakery was a bustling hive, with its intoxicating scent of fresh bread and pastries wafting out into the street, luring in passersby with their irresistible allure.

On the other side of the street, a quaint bookstore sat nestled between two larger buildings. Its window display was a charmingly chaotic mess of books stacked haphazardly. Further down, an art gallery showcased an array of paintings and sculptures, the raw talent of local residents whose names would likely never grace the pages of renowned art journals. The hunk continued his run, his feet pounding against the uneven cobblestones. He passed the town square, a small but well-maintained park adorned with a grand marble fountain at its center and shaded by ancient oak trees that had stood sentry for centuries.

On the far edge of the town square stood a lighthouse, its whitewashed walls gleaming under the morning sun. It stood tall and proud against the backdrop of the azure ocean, a beacon of safety that once guided sailors through stormy nights and foggy mornings.

As he rounded a corner, the familiar sight of the beach appeared. His morning run had brought him full circle. He slowed his pace, breath coming out in steady, labored puffs. Then, he paused momentarily, stretching his muscles and allowing himself to catch his breath.

His run had cleared his mind somewhat, but thoughts of Marcus still lingered, a tune that echoed in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite shake off. Each time the image of the young man touching himself surfaced, Nicholas felt a stirring within him, his arousal noticeable despite his best efforts to suppress it.

He began walking back towards the beach house, where life was slowly stirring awake. Elizabeth was already up and about in the kitchen, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Meanwhile, Brandon and Jett were still confined within their rooms, likely catching a few more hours of sleep. Nicholas greeted Elizabeth with a peck on the cheek and poured himself another cup of strong black coffee.

"How was your run?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes filled with genuine interest.

"Good," Nicholas replied, forcing a smile onto his face. Elizabeth returned his smile, her relief palpable.

"I'm glad. Maybe this was a good idea after all," she replied, her light and casual voice deviating from their usual interactions.

Sweat trickled down Nicholas' forehead as they sat at the kitchen counter. Despite the mundane normality of their morning routine, Nicholas found his thoughts drifting back to Marcus.

"So...about last night," Elizabeth began, her voice breaking through Nicholas' train of salacious thoughts. "What happened?" She asked, a curious gleam in her eyes. Nicholas returned her smile.

"I made you cum. Twice," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion as he sipped his coffee.

Beth's optimism was a bright beacon that had struck him with an unexpected depth. She radiated joy, a happiness that he could see shimmering in her eyes, and he knew she had every reason to feel this way. Their intimate late-night and somewhat unexpected encounter seemed to have set them on a slightly better path, the shared pleasure easing their tension. However, the hunk's mind was still whirling with thoughts of the raven-haired adonis, a storm of confusion that refused to quieten.

Their morning chat was abruptly interrupted by Brandon's arrival. The young man trudged into the kitchen, every line of his body radiating an air of sullen discontent. At eighteen, Brandon was a vessel brimming with untapped potential, yet his strained relationship with his father cast a heavy shadow over his youthful features. Nicholas felt his heart twist painfully as he watched his son navigate the room, each gesture weighted down with barely concealed annoyance.

"Good morning to you, too," Nicholas tried to keep his tone light and upbeat as he greeted his son, but Brandon barely glanced at him.

"Right," the boy mumbled in response before grabbing a piece of toast and slumping heavily into a chair.

Nicholas found himself hankering the days when Brandon was just a boy, eager to spend time together, looking up at him with eyes filled with respect and admiration. But the pressures of work and life had gradually eroded that bond until all that was left was this chasm of silence and resentment. The weight of his unhappiness had taken precedence over his family, and now he was facing the consequences.

"Why don't we grab breakfast at that diner before we hit the beach?" Beth suggested, sensing the tension between father and son and trying to diffuse it. Jett, who had just entered the room in his swim trunks, bounced around excitedly.

"I want pancakes!" the young boy declared, his infectious enthusiasm bringing a smile to Nicholas' face.

They gathered their belongings and made their way to Moe's Diner. As soon as they stepped inside, his eyes scanned the interior, searching for Marcus. His gaze flitted from one table to another, but there was no sign of the young waiter. Instead, they were greeted by another server, a young woman about Marcus' age, who approached them with a warm smile.

"Morning, folks. Grab a seat anywhere you like. I'll be with ya' in a minute," she said, her friendly demeanor doing nothing to ease Nicholas' growing frustration at Marcus' absence.

"Nicholas?" Beth called out to him, her arm wrapped protectively around Jett's shoulder.

"I'll be right there. Bathroom..." he mumbled in response before heading towards the restroom. He pushed open the door and slid into one of the stalls, quickly unzipping his pants. As he released his bladder, he let his head fall back against the wall, sighing deeply as he stared up at the moldy restroom ceiling. "Where the fuck are you?" he murmured under his breath before flushing and washing his hands.

Exiting the restroom and walking past the diner's main counter, he noticed a police officer sitting on one of the stools. The man was ruggedly handsome, with a strong jawline, thick beard, and dark-brown eyes that seemed to pierce through anyone he looked at. His athletic physique was well-maintained, and the five o'clock shadow on his face added to his rough-and-tumble appearance. Despite his intimidating figure, the man looked remarkably young, no older than twenty-five. Nicholas found himself discreetly studying the officer, his mind noting the man's hyper-masculine demeanor and cocky attitude.

"I fucking 'hate' this time of the year," the strikingly handsome cop, whose nametag read "Ledger," mumbled with a sense of deep-rooted annoyance. His words were barely audible as they escaped his lips and floated across the counter towards the older man on the other side.

"Bad for your line of work, Ledger, but oh so good for mine," the man quipped back with a playful twinkle in his eyes that seemed out of place given the gruff exterior he otherwise presented. He was polishing the counter with an old rag, his hands moving rhythmically in circles. "Stop behaving like a grumpy old man, will you? That's my job," he added, his tone light and filled with teasing humor.

"All these tourists flocking here, parading around as if they own the place," the young cop lamented, his voice tinged with a resentment sharp enough to cut through glass.

"Well, we do rely on their wallets," the older man reasoned, his voice carrying an underlying note of practicality that clashed with Ledger's emotional outburst. At this point, Nicholas decided to gracefully slide into the conversation.

"Morning," he greeted, his voice mellow yet confident enough to compel the two men to turn their attention towards him. The older man looked mortified, a sudden fear flashing in his eyes that Nicholas might have overheard his comment. Conversely, Ledger studied Nicholas from head to toe as if he were a bothersome insect that needed immediate extermination.

"Hey there, champ," the older man replied with forced excitement. "Can I help you?" he asked, trying to regain control over the situation.

"Yeah," Nicholas responded, leaning over the counter and deliberately lowering his voice to a whisper. "Is Marcus around?" his question hung in the air like a delicate secret, causing the two men to exchange a quick, tense glance.

"It's his day off," the man replied, intrigued by Nicholas' unexpected inquiry. "Why? Was there something wrong with your service yesterday?" His voice dripped with curiosity as he probed further. Nicholas stumbled, his mind racing to concoct a plausible excuse.

"Oh, no. Not at all. I just...forgot to tip him," Nicholas managed to say, his gaze shifting towards Ledger, whose eyes seemed to be magnetically drawn towards him.

"You can leave it here. I'll make sure he gets it," the owner offered, tapping the tip jar before him.

"That's okay. I'll just come back another time," Nicholas countered, pulling back slightly as if to physically distance himself from the situation. As he did so, Ledger let out a chuckle laced with derision.

"I wouldn't tip that one," he muttered. "Fucking faggot..." he groaned almost inaudibly. Nicholas glanced at Ledger, struggling to control his emotions and not react to his blatantly offensive comment.

"There, there, Officer Ledger...we don't want our esteemed customers to think we don't take good care of our staff here, do we?" the owner interjected, attempting to rein in Ledger's volatile temperament. Nicholas felt a sudden jolt of revulsion in his gut, his chest constricting with disgust.

"Yeah. Sure," Ledger grumbled, forcing a smile that barely reached his eyes. "I need to get back to work anyway," he announced before flashing a grin that reeked of hostility. He stood up and strolled out the door with an air of arrogance. Nicholas' gaze followed him to the parking lot, where another cop was waiting for him in a patrol vehicle. They stood there for a while, conversing and occasionally throwing glances towards the diner, specifically at Nicholas, before finally getting into their car and driving away.

"Sorry about that," Moe, the owner, apologized. "Most of these guys have known each other since they were kids. It's just...boys being boys, you know?" he tried to downplay the incident, his tone casual. Nicholas responded with a cordial smile.

"Thank you," he said before returning to his table where Beth and the boys were waiting.

As he resumed his seat, a wave of frustration and disappointment washed over him. A sense of anticipation he hadn't fully acknowledged was slowly building up within him, only to be abruptly crushed. He couldn't understand why Marcus's absence affected him so profoundly, but the loss felt undeniable. Beth and Jett were engrossed in their menus, oblivious to his inner turmoil. However, Brandon was watching him closely, his keen eyes noticing the slight slump in his father's shoulders and the way his gaze drifted towards the entrance as if hoping someone might still come through the door.

"What's up with you?" Brandon queried. His brow was lightly furrowed, the corners of his mouth pulled into a slight pout as he studied Nicholas's face for any telltale signs of deception. Caught off guard by the sudden question, Nicholas found his gaze involuntarily flicking toward the ground before he managed to rein in his surprise. He quickly plastered a smile onto his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an attempt to sell the lie.

"Nothing," he responded, deliberately vague, an elusive evasion of Brandon's probing question. His eyes were wide and innocent as they met Brandon's, but the faint lines of worry etching his forehead betrayed him.

Brandon, for all his intuition and insight, didn't seem entirely convinced by Nicholas's denial. However, he let the matter drop, perhaps sensing that it wasn't a line of conversation Nicholas was willing to pursue. He replied with a simple nod, his lips pressed into a thin line as he turned his attention back to their surroundings. Meanwhile, Nicholas released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled over him.

As they ordered their food and waited, Nicholas focused on engaging with his family. He made small talk about mundane matters, joking with Jett about their plans for the day. Yet, even as he laughed and chatted, the thoughts of Marcus lingered at the back of his mind like a persistent specter. They were obsessive thoughts, emotions that danced on the edge of longing and confusion, threatening to tip him over.

As morning faded into the afternoon and they went to the beach, Nicholas grappled with his thoughts. He felt frustrated by his inability to connect with Brandon, disarrayed by his inexplicable feelings for Marcus, and yearning for something unknown and elusive. This feeling seemed just out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke. His life, which had once seemed simple and straightforward, now felt complicated and convoluted.

The sun was high, a golden sheen covering the vast expanse of sand that stretched as far as the eye could see. But that morning's pleasant mood on the beach did little to calm Nicholas's tumultuous mind. He found a suitable spot for their blankets and umbrellas, setting up a small base camp where Jett promptly began the construction of an intricate sandcastle. Beth spread her towel and settled down with a book, her face relaxed in an expression of rare leisure. Brandon, ever the aloof one, made his way towards the shoreline, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Nicholas wanted to focus and enjoy the beach day with his family, but Marcus invaded his thoughts. The image of him walking naked out of the ocean, water droplets clinging onto his bare skin, his dark eyes filled with mysteries yet untold, and those lips, those mystifying lips that held an allure Nicholas couldn't resist, was an attraction so overpowering it left Nicholas reeling. He had never felt this way about anyone, let alone another man.

Throughout the day, Nicholas's obsession grew. He repeated their brief conversations in his mind, analyzing every word and gesture. He felt a strange pull towards this boy, a magnetic attraction that defied everything he thought he knew about himself. It was as if a part of him had awakened, a part lying dormant and unfulfilled.

As the day wore on, Nicholas found it increasingly difficult to engage with his family. He watched Jett's sandcastle construction with half-hearted enthusiasm and responded to Beth's attempts at conversation with distracted nods. The beach, usually a place of solace, felt like a battleground.

In the early hours of the afternoon, a friendly couple set up camp nearby. The woman greeted, her voice carrying easily over the noise. Her bright smile was infectious as she approached them, confidently initiating conversation.

"Hi!" she exclaimed, her hand raised in a cheerful wave. "You're new," she commented, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Beth returned her smile and waved back.

"Yes. It's our first year here," Beth replied, putting down her book to give the woman her full attention. "I'm Beth. Beth Bowman," she introduced herself, extending her hand towards the woman.

"Jodie Marshall," the woman replied, shaking Beth's hand firmly. "This is my husband, Tom," she added, gesturing towards the man behind her. They were around the same age as Nicholas and Elizabeth, and their laid-back demeanor instantly put the family at ease.

Jodie was a vivacious redhead with a warm smile that lit up her face. She was strikingly beautiful, with an air of elegance accentuated by her high-end fashion sense. Her husband, Tom, was ruggedly handsome, with blonde hair peppered with silver that gave him a preeminent look. His piercing blue eyes were mesmerizing, especially as they glistened under the sun. Like Nicholas, he seemed fit and in shape for his age, with an athletic build gained through obvious regular exercise. He wore a pair of brightly colored flower print shorts, which Nicholas immediately assumed were Jodie's doing.

"We have two boys. They're...somewhere," Jodie added with a playful roll of her eyes, glancing around the beach before waving towards the shore where two teenage young boys stood not far from where Brandon was playing.

"This is my husband, Nicholas," Beth introduced, gesturing to Nicholas, who had quietly observed the exchange.

"Hey, man," Tom greeted, stepping forward to shake Nicholas' hand with an enthusiasm that suggested relief at having another male presence around.

"So, how have you been enjoying Seagull's Bay?" Jodie questioned, her tone suggesting genuine interest.

"Oh, it's lovely," Beth responded. She was slightly irked by Jodie's posh demeanor but hid it well behind a polite smile.

"I know, right? Just try not to mention it to anyone," Jodie laughed. "The first time we came here was about seven years ago, and this town was a dream. Not a soul around. Now, every year, there are more and more people. Soon, we won't be able to stretch our towels," she added with a hint of condescension that didn't escape Nicholas's notice.

As the families mingled, Nicholas found himself inexplicably drawn to Tom. Something about his easygoing demeanor, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, stirred a sense of familiarity. He sauntered over, navigating through the maze of stretched towels towards Tom. They started talking, meandering from mundane daily affairs to deeper territories. It wasn't long before they discovered a shared sense of feeling overwhelmed by the demands of family life, a burden they both carried in silence.

Tom had this uncanny way of articulating the struggles that Nicholas had always kept bottled up inside, as if he had an intuitive understanding of Nicholas's recent predicament.

"Sometimes, I miss those days when I could just get home from work and jerk off to porn in the living room, you know?" Tom disclosed, sipping his water bottle with an air of nonchalance. "No responsibilities, no expectations, and no fucking explanations," he confessed. His words hung heavy in the air as Nicholas nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I hear you...But, you know...married life has its advantages," Nicholas countered, his eyes glancing at little Jett, who tapped his sandcastle with his plastic shovel.

"Right..." Tom mumbled, sounding unconvinced by Nicholas's argument. He clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "Good to know I'm not the only one feeling this way," he added with a wink at Nicholas, who chuckled in response.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, like a steady stream navigating through a rocky path, and Nicholas felt a sense of camaraderie with Tom that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was refreshing to talk to someone who understood his frustrations without judgment, without the need for pretense or validation. The two men eventually decided to meet for drinks, eager to continue their discussion in a more relaxed setting.

Back at the house, as the family prepared for dinner, the aroma of roasted chicken wafting through the rooms, Nicholas' thoughts swirled with anticipation and anxiety about his meeting with Tom. He wondered if the drinks would provide a much-needed distraction or if they would only deepen his introspection.

Around 9 p.m., as Nicholas lay in bed, the sounds of the ocean drifting through the open window, he felt a strange sense of duality. Despite Beth's advances, he had neglected to fuck her that evening. The truth was, his mind was only in one thing. Marcus. And soon, his hand was slowly skating down, grabbing his stiff cock, stroking it gently enough not to wake Beth, who slept right next to him. Less than a minute had gone by when Nicholas sighed in frustration. Not even jerking off, which had been his source of comfort for years, seemed to help quell his burning thoughts. He rolled to the side, annoyed, his eyes gaping restless.

Later that evening, Nicholas lay still awake. The clock read just past 11:30 p.m., but sleep seemed a far-off prospect. He glanced over at Elizabeth, who was already fast asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. With a sigh, he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and headed to the living room. Desperate for a distraction and perhaps some light repartee, he decided to call Tom. After their exchange at the beach, he mentioned that he was always up for a drink and a chat, no matter how late. And it turned out he was serious. Tom answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Nicholas! Everything alright?" Tom greeted, his voice quite awake for that time of hour.

"Yeah, I just...thought maybe we could grab that drink we talked about," Nicholas replied, trying to sound casual. Tom chuckled.

"Say no more. I know a great little bar by the harbor called The Rusty Anchor. Meet you there in fifteen?" Tom proposed.

"Perfect," Nicholas agreed, feeling a rush of relief.

The Rusty Anchor, nestled in a quiet corner of Seagull's Bay, was an unpretentious watering hole where time seemed to stand still. Its weather-beaten wooden exterior bore the scars of countless storms. The bar's interior was shrouded in a mellow light that danced on the walls adorned with kitschy nautical memorabilia. A ship's wheel here, a fishing net there, it was almost too cliche for Nicholas's taste.

The bar was brimming with a motley crowd of locals and out-of-towners, each engrossed in their own world of banter and booze, oblivious to the rest. Tom was already there, perched on a stool at a corner table, nursing a pint of beer.

"Two beers, gorgeous," he commanded the waitress with a flirtatious grin before returning to Nicholas. "I had a feeling you'd call," he remarked nonchalantly. Nicholas frowned at his friend's presumptuousness as he slid into the seat opposite him.

"Is it that obvious?" Nicholas retorted defensively before sinking into the chair, spreading his legs wide in an unconscious display of masculinity. "Anyway, thanks for coming," he added, softening his tone.

Tom lifted his glass in a mock toast. "To new friendships and escaping reality," he declared with a wry smile. His eyes darted around the room, scanning the women sauntering past their table.

They clinked glasses, and Nicholas took a deep gulp of his beer. The crisp bitterness of the brew was refreshing against his parched throat. The conversation started off light, beach escapades, family anecdotes, and the quaint charm of Seagull's Bay. But as the night wore on and the alcohol flowed, their banter took a more severe turn. Tom's usually jovial demeanor gradually gave way to a more contemplative mood.

"You know," he began, swirling the remnants of his beer in the glass, "I think we men compromise too much. We trade our desires for responsibilities and passions for stability. Bit by bit, we lose ourselves." Nicholas nodded in silent agreement, his own inner turmoil resonating with Tom's words.

"Yeah," Nicholas finally found his voice, though it was barely above a whisper. He could feel Tom's gaze probing, encouraging him to bare his soul. And so, he did. "I've been feeling lost...like I don't know who I am or what I want anymore," he confessed.

Tom's response was a knowing nod. "It's tough, man. Society expects us to be strong, reliable, and devoted. But deep down, we yearn for freedom, adventure, something more," he confided.

Nicholas found solace in Tom's words. Here was someone who understood his inner conflict and didn't dismiss his feelings as mere whimsy. He took another sip of his beer, feeling a warmth spread through him that wasn't entirely due to the alcohol.

"Can I tell you something?" Tom leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. His eyes darted around the room nervously.

"Sure," Nicholas replied cautiously.

"I've been having an affair," Tom said. The confession hung in the air between them like an uninvited guest. Yet, instead of feeling judgmental, Nicholas was intrigued and oddly drawn to the revelation.

"An affair?" Nicholas echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tom nodded. "Yeah. It's been on and off for a few years now," he admitted.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair. "How do you...?" He left the question hanging.

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. "You manage," he replied cryptically. "It's not just about the sex. It's the thrill, the excitement that comes with it. I felt like I was sleepwalking through life until this...thing happened," he added, the twinkle in his eye betraying a hint of mischief.

Nicholas took another sip of his beer. "Doesn't it complicate things?" he asked.

"Of course it does," Tom admitted readily. "But it also makes me feel alive, like there's still a part of me that hasn't been domesticated," he continued, his voice gaining strength.

Nicholas felt a chill run down his spine at Tom's words. The idea of being untamed, of finding an outlet for his hidden desires, struck a chord. He thought of Marcus and his inexplicable attraction towards the enigmatic young man.

"But what about your wife?" Nicholas asked softly, almost afraid to voice his thoughts aloud. "How do you reconcile...?"

Tom sighed heavily. A shadow flitted across his face momentarily before he composed himself. "I love Jodie. But there are parts of me she doesn't understand or even know exist," he confessed.

"Don't you feel guilty?" Nicholas ventured further, afraid of crossing a line but unable to stop himself. "I mean...not just about the cheating but...that there's a part of you Jodie doesn't know about?"

"No marriage survives the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," Tom whispered, words thrown like silent rapiers. "I'm a sinner, so help me God," he razzed, lifting his hands in the air playfully. Nicholas stared into his beer, the amber liquid reflecting his troubled thoughts. He felt a deep kinship with Tom, a sense of solidarity in their shared disorder and lustful appetite. But he also felt a growing sense of unease. Was this the path he wanted to take? Was this the kind of freedom he craved? "And you know what the best part is?" Tom whispered again, pulling Nicholas's attention back to him.

"What?" Nicholas mumbled, still grappling with his thoughts.

"I get to have sex whenever the fuck I want," Tom replied, grinning. "Have you ever fucked an ass before, Nicholas?" he asked, his words catching Nicholas off guard.

"No..." the hunk stuttered, propelling an almost sadistic grin on Tom's face.

"Man, it's heaven. No matter how big your dick is, it'll slide all the way in, no problem," he described, his phrasing playfully unscrupulous. His words were coarse and vulgar and aroused Nicholas immensely. "And man," Tom gossiped, leaning into the table, his eyes sparkling. "It never gets loose. It's always tight," he described. "The first time I tried it, I could barely last a couple of seconds," he admitted, leaning back as he chuckled. Nicholas stared at him, mouth slightly dropped, his cock hardening under the table.

"Jesus Christ, Tom..." Nicholas replied, trying to cage a smile that desperately struggled to escape. As much as he felt Tom's conversation was too much, a part of him was actually enjoying it. His spirit being seduced by his friend's classless behavior.

The night wore on, and the bar began to empty. Tom and Nicholas continued to talk, their conversation meandering through the complexities of life, human nature, and the search for personal satisfaction. Tom left The Rusty Anchor with a parting clap on the shoulder and a reminder of their next drink date. Nicholas lingered there, his mind still buzzing with the weight of their exchange. He ordered another beer. The last thing he could think of was driving back to the house and lying on that bed beside Beth.

Sitting alone at the bar, Nicholas felt a profound sense of dissatisfaction. His life, once filled with youthful dreams and boundless potential, had become a series of monotonous routines and unfulfilled desires. The demands of work and the responsibilities of being a husband and father had slowly eroded the sense of adventure and excitement he once cherished. Sure, he loved Beth, but their relationship had settled into a comfortable, predictable rhythm. Schedules and obligations had replaced the passion and spontaneity of their early years. Even their recent attempts to rekindle their intimacy felt forced, as if they were trying to revive something that had long since withered away. And Nicholas couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt that the only time he felt good about fucking his wife's pussy was by thinking about Marcus. He knew Elizabeth was endeavoring to change, but his heart yearned for something, and not even Nicholas knew what it was yet.

Then there was Brandon. His son's aloofness and resentment were constant reminders of Nicholas' failures as a father. He regretted the missed opportunities to connect, the moments he neglected while buried in work or yielded in his thoughts. Nicholas wanted to bridge the gap and find a way back, but he needed to figure out where to start.

And, of course, there was Marcus. The young waiter had awakened something in him, a spark he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just physical attraction, though there was no denying that, but a more profound, unsettling affinity.

As he sat nursing his beer, the bar gradually emptied. The bartender wiped down the counters, and the remaining patrons trickled off into the night. Nicholas finally paid his tab and stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of the ocean a distant murmur. He got into his car, intending to return to the house, but found himself driving aimlessly through the quiet Bay streets instead. The town was peaceful at this hour, the shops and houses bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. As he drove, Nicholas' mind wandered back to the dark-eyed waiter, the mysterious pull he felt towards him growing stronger with each passing moment. That's when he realized he had done nothing but think about Marcus the entire day. It was as if the absence of someone Nicholas barely knew was unexpectedly unbearable to him. How could this be happening, he thought?

Suddenly, something caught his eye just as he was about to return to the house. Near a somberly lit parking lot, the same one where they had met the night before, he saw Marcus, sitting in the passenger seat of a car. Another figure was with him inside the vehicle, and the two appeared to be arguing. Nicholas slowed down, his curiosity aroused. He pulled over a short distance away, watching as the argument escalated. Marcus's body language was tense and defensive, while the person in the car grew increasingly aggressive. Suddenly, the argument turned violent. The individual inside the vehicle lunged at Marcus, striking him hard and pushing his head violently against the window glass. Marcus staggered back, but the assailant continued the assault, landing several more blows. Nicholas' heart raced. He jumped out of his car and ran towards the scene without thinking.

"Hey...hey, stop!" he shouted, but the attacker didn't hear him. Marcus managed to break free, stumbling out of the car and away from the vehicle, blood trickling from a cut on his lip. Seeing Nicholas approach, the mysterious person quickly jumped the car, speeding off before Nicholas could see who it was. "Are you okay?" Nicholas asked, rushing to Marcus' side. The boy nodded, wincing as he touched his swollen lip.

"I'm fine'" the dark-eyed beauty frowned, pulling back. Nicholas' concern deepened as he noticed the bruises on Marcus's face.

"Who the fuck was that? Do you need to go to the hospital?" Nicholas questioned, his eyes scouring the boy's battered face. Marcus shook his head.

"No hospital. I'll be alright," Marcus replied, lost, his profound, dark gaze wandering around the parking lot. Nicholas felt a surge of protectiveness flowing over him.

"Come on, let me at least take you home," Nicholas suggested.

After a moment's hesitation, Marcus nodded. "Fine. Thanks," the boy replied.

Nicholas helped Marcus into his car, and they drove back to the young man's house. The first few minutes inside the vehicle were layered in silence. His mind raced with questions, but he held them back, focusing on getting Marcus to safety. Halfway there, Nicholas' voice finally pushed through.

"So, are you gonna tell me who that was?" Nicholas finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. Marcus sighed, his eyes dark with a mixture of pain and resignation.

"It's a long story," the boy replied elusively. Nicholas glanced at him, startled by how charming Marcus was, even with a battered face and under the poorest lighting ever. The young man's raw vulnerability was both endearing and utterly dangerous. He nodded, not wanting to press too hard.

"Fine. We don't have to talk about it," Nicholas said softly. Marcus looked at him, a hint of gratitude in his eyes.

For the first time in a long while, Nicholas felt like he was doing something that mattered and went beyond the routine and the mundane. Marcus' presence, even in such distressing circumstances, had reignited a sense of purpose within him. Nicholas's mind raced, but he could see the dread in Marcus' eyes. He didn't want to push too hard and risk shutting him down completely. Instead, he focused on driving.

They arrived at Marcus's house, that modest shack on a quiet street at the edge of town. The exterior was neat but unremarkable, and the place blended into its surroundings. Nicholas parked the car and turned to Marcus, who was already reaching for the door handle.

"Let me help you inside," Nicholas said, not waiting for a response as he exited the car and moved to Marcus's side.

The boy didn't protest, looking too weary to argue as Nicholas helped him to the door. Once inside, Nicholas guided him to a tiny living room adjacent to the small kitchen, tastefully decorated with photographs, illustrations, and a stack of books on the coffee table.

"Sit here," Nicholas instructed gently, helping Marcus onto the couch. "I'll get the first aid kit," he said, pulling off his coat and tossing it over one of the stools under the kitchen table. Marcus nodded, briefly closing his eyes as he leaned back against the cushions. Nicholas quickly found the bathroom and located a small first aid kit under the sink. He returned to the living room and knelt beside the couch, carefully opening the kit. "This might sting a bit," Nicholas said softly, dabbing antiseptic on a cotton pad and gently pressing it against the cut on Marcus' lip. The boy flinched slightly but didn't pull away.

"Fuck, that hurts," he murmured, eyes meeting Nicholas' with a mixture of gratitude and something more profound. "Thanks..." the boy muttered reluctantly.

"It's the least I can do," Nicholas replied, his voice steady. As he continued to tend to Marcus' injuries, he felt an almost magnetic pull between them, an unspoken connection that seemed to grow stronger by the second. Each stroke of the alcohol-soaked cotton escorted a glance, a moment where their eyes would meet, allowing a rush of desire to creep inside, taking hold of Nicholas' senses.

What the fuck was going on, he thought? It was almost as if the most potent spell stemmed from the boy's eyes. So overwhelming that Nicholas had to focus to keep his hand from shaking. When he finished, Nicholas sat back, his hands lingering momentarily on Marcus' knees.

"There, that should help a bit," he said calmly.

"You're good at this," Marcus stated softly.

"I have a five-year-old, remember?" Nicholas quipped, causing Marcus to chuckle softly. The boy darted at him, his eyes softening.

"Marcus, I know it's none of my business, but...you should consider reporting this to the police," Nicholas urged, his voice filled with concern.

"You're right. It's none of your business," Marcus fired, his defenses growing.

"No one should get away with doing that to you," Nicholas pressed, glancing over at Marcus' injured face.

But the boy said nothing. He just sat there.

Nicholas felt his heart race as he gazed into Marcus' eyes. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in this small, quiet room. Without thinking, Nicholas leaned in, his breath hitching as he closed the distance between them. Marcus' eyes squinted slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he tilted his head, his lips parting in anticipation.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative and gentle, a hesitant exploration of new territory. But as their lips met deeper, a surge of emotion crashed over Nicholas, a powerful wave that swept him up. He felt the metallic taste of Marcus' blood in his mouth, and the boy's hands came up to rest on his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, their tongues slowly drilling into each other's mouths, lacing gently. It was intoxicating, addictive, as if everything he had been searching for, everything he had been missing, was right there.

When they finally pulled apart, both men were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they tried to regain their composure. Nicholas opened his eyes, meeting Marcus' gaze, and saw a reflection of his tumultuous emotions mirrored there.

"I'm sorry," Nicholas whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I...I shouldn't have done that," he stuttered, voice filled with angst. Marcus smiled.

"Why?" the boy moaned, his chin still lowered, mouth opened, and lips dangling there, hoping for Nicholas to kiss them again.

"I'm married...I have a wife," Nicholas stammered. I shouldn't be here..." he stumbled. "I mean...what does that say about me?" he questioned, almost to himself. There was a slight pause before the boy's voice broke from under the silence.

"You know what's the first thing I noticed about you?" Marcus whispered, his alluring breath spewing into Nicholas's face, taunting the hunk's repressed urge. "How quiet you were," he moaned, taking his tongue and slowly licking Nicholas' lips. The hunk could smell the boy's breath and feel the moisture of his spit coating his mouth.

"Jesus Christ..." Nicholas groaned, his forehead rubbing against the boy's. Every fiber of his being endeavored to resist his impulses.

"The quiet ones are always the wildest," the boy whispered, a soft, almost sadistic giggle fleeing his mouth.

Nicholas paused, Marcus' unexpected remark pulling him out of his stupor, a small measure of clarity amid the confusion. The boy's words were improper, twisted, insidious. Yet they mirrored with disarming accuracy the truth that had lingered inside Nicholas his entire life. Maybe he was wild, insane even, enough to be here, kissing a young man he knew nothing about while his wife and two children waited at home. He needed to get out and fast.

"I should go," Nicholas said reluctantly, his body jolting up, legs rushing for the door. He sprinted down the porch steps and dashed for the car, grabbing the keys from his pocket.

Nicholas drove away from the house and that haunting kiss. His mind ran wildly, trying to understand what had just happened, and he soon lost track of time. He must have circled the block to the beach house several times because what was initially a ten-minute ride back had turned into forty. And to make matters worse, as he neared his home, a sudden jolt of realization hit him.

He had left his coat back at Marcus' place.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Nicholas yelled inside the car. With a grunting sigh, he made a U-turn and headed back towards Marcus' house.

Minutes later, Nicholas instantly noticed something strange as he approached the house. Different voices were coming from inside, slightly muffled. He slowly exited the car, tiptoeing to the entrance door and peering into the kitchen window. Immediately, he glimpsed several dark blue pieces of clothing strewn about the kitchen floor. They were police uniforms. A sense of dread settled in his stomach as he cautiously approached the door, stopping instantly.

Inside, a naked man came into the kitchen. Muscular body, toned, brown hair, thick beard, sweating profusely as his 10-inch cock dangled, fully erect between his legs. Breathing heavily, he sauntered to the fridge and opened the door, the light flaring from inside, coating his glistening physique. From upstairs, the most grueling moans and wails could be heard.

"Keep that fucking bitch moaning!" the muscular stud hollered, chuckling as he pulled a beer out. He racked it open and chugged the bottle down its throat, tossing it on the sink as he exhaled profusely. "Fucking cunt...wears me out every time," he mumbled, loud enough that Nicholas could recognize his voice. Suddenly, a sharp moan broke from upstairs. "Hey, Dawson, take it easy! We still have four hours till the next shift," he warned, his legs fumbling slightly as he walked back up the stairs. Nicholas' eyes shivered in shock.

It was him, the cop from the diner.

He stood there, knowing full well his only sane option was to forget the coat and just get the fuck out of dodge. But a strange trance suddenly possessed his body, taking hold of it. Seconds later, against his better judgment, Nicholas was climbing the pipe up the side of the house and crawling inside the small balcony next to Marcus' room window. He slid inside the aged structure, his face shrinking at the screeching noises the old wood made as he stepped on it. But he soon realized the loud music coming from inside muffled everything around. Nicholas took a deep breath and peeked through the window.

Marcus' naked body lay on his stomach over the bed, his head squashed inside a pillow. Over him was another guy with striking blonde hair and piercing green eyes. His smooth, muscular build spoke of discipline and strength, both approachable and imposing. His massive figure hovered over the boy's body as he pounded his ass viciously, the clapping sounds overpowering the loud music. By then, Ledger had walked inside the room. Loud moans filled the air with such force that, even with the window closed, they spewed from inside with ravenous intensity, filling Nicholas' ears. Ledger paced around the bed, a sadistic smirk on his face, and let his body fall over a small couch at the foot of it, watching his buddy's ass bounce on top of Marcus, whose whimpers and wails only seemed to entice the hunk's merciless pounding even more.

"Mother fucker, I'm gonna come!" Dawson announced, his blonde head snapping back, mouth opened, ass cheeks clenching as he started to unload inside Marcus' hole. After a few seconds of twitching, Dawson pulled out, his huge 8-inch thick cock sliding out, soaked and dripping in cum, which also skated out of Marcus' pucker profusely. The boy's body shivered, his legs recoiling. Dawson slapped Marcus' smooth, bubble butt playfully before pulling up and turning to Ledger. "That's my second load, fuck...I need a breather. Your turn," he stated, nudging his head and signaling his friend to take his place on the bed. The thick-bearded hunk smiled, jumping up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Wait," Ledger said, punching Dawson's chest. Then, he took his hand and clutched it around his friend's cock, amassing all the viscous cum and lubing his own cock with it. He crawled into the bed and slid his massive dick inside Marcus unceremoniously, causing the boy to gasp. "No matter how many horny bitches come through this fucking town every year..." the stud groaned, his cock grinding into Marcus' insides. "You're still the best pussy around, Marcus..." he stammered, his motions becoming more robust, speedy. He let his body fall over Marcus, his sweat-covered hairy chest merging with the boy's smooth back, lips grazing Marcus' ear. "You'll always be the best pussy I've ever had," the hunk whispered, his eyes scouring Dawson, who was now distracted lighting a joint. "Hey...look at me when I'm talking to you," he ordered, finally plucking Marcus' hidden face from under the pillow, his fingers clutching the boy's beautiful raven hair.

On the other side of the glass, Nicholas' eyes shivered in shock at the sight of Marcus' countenance. It was raw, sexual, and blissfully relinquished to the brutal nature of what was happening. His expression wasn't just of someone willing to let it happen. But of someone unabashedly relishing what was happening.

"Stop talking and fuck me...you piece of shit," Marcus moaned with a sadistic smirk on his lips.

"Open your mouth," Ledger ordered. As soon as the boy did, he leaned down and spit into it, splattering the boy's face, rubbing his saliva all over Marcus' skin as he roared with delight, his smooth body being shoved violently against the mattress.

Stunned and appalled, Nicholas crawled through the creaky wooden balcony and let his body slide along the wall, trying to find a better angle of the boy's face as he peered inside the glass. Despite his conflicting feelings about Marcus at that moment, seeing him being used like that was unearthing feelings he feared even thinking about. The carnal act taking place was a violent hail, battering against Nicholas' senses and leaving him breathless in its wake. His body trembled with desire and adrenaline as he crouched in the darkness, unable to tear his eyes away from the savage display happening inside. Nicholas was slowly being consumed by its intensity, his mind and body overwhelmed by the raw energy emanating from the scene unfolding inside that room, causing his cock to bulge inside his pants like it had never before.

And festering inside Nicholas, like an insidious presence, the most overwhelmingly eliciting and sodomist thought raged.

That it should be him inside that room. Enjoying Marcus' hole.

(To be continued...)