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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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. 


“I’m home!” CJ braced for the expected collision. It did not materialize. “Liebe?” He was used to a blonde tornado striking his legs when he arrived at the apartment but his daughter was missing in action at the moment.

Hola, Ceej.” Liebe sat on the couch, an older girl next to her, both engrossed in a picture book.

CJ knew it was Infanta’s daughter, Guadalupe, and grinned at her. Her dark eyes shone brightly when she offered a slight smile in return. Certain the girl’s English would at best be rudimentary, he used Spanish.

“Hey, munchkin. Do I get a kiss?” CJ leaned toward Liebe when she puckered her lips. “Who’s your friend?”

“Lupe! Infanta’s her mommy.”

The girl, even though she smiled, appeared nervous. He tried to put her at ease. “Hi, Lupe. I’m CJ, Liebe’s other father.” Owen had worked from home that day, so CJ assumed she had met him already. “You look pretty. I like your dress.”

Lupe glanced at her cheery, wildflower covered, blue outfit. “Thanks.” Her lips twitched slightly and the corners of her mouth curved upwards a tad higher.

“Where’s your mom?”

“In the kitchen.” The girl unnecessarily pointed in the proper direction.

“I’ll be right back. Infanta?” he called out, leaving the girls to their book.

“Here, Señor CJ” The nanny, bent over the ironing board, smoothed final wrinkles from a shirt he recognized as Owen’s. Apparently satisfied, she rested the steam iron on its end and picked up a wooden hanger from the stone counter behind her.

“Hi. Is Owen out?”

“Yes, señor. He said to tell you he went to pick up wine.”

“Oh, okay. I guess the shipment arrived.” CJ peeked into the refrigerator and was pleased to see the steaks Owen had bought for dinner. “I think you can leave the other shirts for Monday, Infanta.” He nodded at the basket at her feet. Having stopped at the bank during lunch, CJ carried an envelope with the nanny’s weekly wages in his jacket’s inside pocket. “Here, this is for this week.” He handed the money over.

“Thank you, Señor CJ.”

Owen, without CJ objecting, had insisted they pay her at the rate they would have a quality caretaker in Washington. With the Mexican peso worth about five cents on the dollar, the envelope was thick with currency.

“Is your husband waiting downstairs?”

The woman nodded.

Considering the amount of money she carried home on payday, CJ had insisted on someone meeting her or her taking a car home. He waved a hand to encompass the ironing supplies. “I’ll put this away. You have a good weekend.”


“I’m back. And I have company.”

CJ guessed Owen and the nanny had crossed paths as one departed and the other one arrived. Trailed by Liebe, he had gone to the master bedroom to get out of his suit; having just dropped his pants when Owen returned and called out. “I’m in the bedroom. Be out as soon as I change.”

Liebe didn’t wait. She waddled out, shouting, “Oshie!”

“Hey.” Minutes later, CJ found his daughter in the arms of an unknown man. Sun darkened skin, dark hair, and matching dark eyes greeted him.

“G’day, mate.”

“Hope you don’t mind, babe. I invited Calum to join us for dinner.” Owen pecked his husband’s cheek. “He’s the one who helped us with the wine. Spencer’s gonna set up regular shipments to the embassy, and Calum promised to call whenever they arrive.”

“Thank you!” CJ smiled at the man and offered a hand. “CJ Abelló.”

“I know who you are. Owen’s bragged on you both times I’ve met him. I’m Calum Moger.”

“Welcome to our place, dude. Anybody want a cocktail? I’m ready for a martini.”

“I’ll take one.” Owen pried open the box he had placed on the ground and retrieved a wine bottle. “I’m glad he sent Shiraz. It’ll be good with the steaks.”

Liebe wiggled in the visitor’s arms until Calum relented and lowered her to the ground. “I’m looking forward to trying it. Being from Perth, I’m more familiar with western stuff. Kinda partial to Margaret River wines.”

“I’ve tried some western vintages. Good, but you’re in for a treat. We’ll save the wine for dinner.” CJ opened a cabinet and retrieved a Bombay Sapphire bottle with one hand and a Grey Goose one with the other. “What about right now? Want a martini too? We prefer gin, but I can mix you a vodka one. Or would you like something else?”

“Gin? That’s brilliant. Most people want vodka.”

“Not in this house. Gin, a spritz of vermouth, blue cheese or garlic stuffed olives, straight up.”

“Do me!”

CJ and Owen both cracked up.

“Not that way, you wankers.”

Owen was the first to recover. “Calum’s family, Ceej. I warned him you were off limits.”

“Yeah? What about you? Did you tell him you’re unavailable too? Or do I get to watch?” CJ’s wiggling eyebrows elicited further chuckles.

Owen shook his head. “Ignore my husband, Calum. He’s all talk. The longer we’re together, the more jealous he gets.”

“Lies! I’m not the jealous type.” CJ meant to replicate the dish Infanta had prepared for them earlier in the week. Wanting to streamline the procedure, he had chopped and mixed ingredients, creating a dressing they could pour over corn cobs. Unhappy with the results, he decided to leave it for another day once the nanny walked him through the recipe. Meat, potatoes, and a green salad would have to suffice. While he experimented, Owen fed Liebe, and Calum sat on a stool watching the couple go about their tasks.

“She a fussy eater, mate?” Unencumbered by a toddler, and CJ having rejected his offer of assistance, Calum had finished his martini before his hosts. Cocktail gone, he nibbled on the olives.

“Not really. We keep trying new foods on her, and so far so good. Of course, a lot of them get put through the blender to create purees.” Owen looked up and smirked. “Those can be bloody good. CJ and I’ve been known to make enough for us. Your drink’s gone. Want another one?”

CJ mixed a second batch while Owen got Liebe ready for bed. They had decided to keep her up a little longer than usual, waiting for their other guest. Since CJ was rubbing garlic salt and cracked black pepper on the steaks, when the doorbell rang minutes after the doorman had called, Owen picked his daughter up. “Let’s go see who’s here, Liebe.”

Her squeal at the front door was heard in the kitchen. “Linc!”

“Here.” The moment Lincoln stepped into the kitchen, CJ traded him a martini for the girl in his arms. “Calum, this is our friend Linc. We knew each other in Washington before the FBI sent him down here. Lincoln Erickson, Calum Moger. Did I get the last name right?”

“Ya did, mate. Good to meetcha, Linc. You’re bloody big.” Calum was not small, but Lincoln towered over them all.

“Another Aussie, eh?” Lincoln’s smile remained the brightest CJ had ever seen. The man oozed friendliness.

“Your lucky day, Linc. Two of us.” Owen, with Liebe back in his arms, stooped a bit next to CJ. “Kiss your father goodnight, Liebe. Time for bed.”

When the girl complained, she was told she could stay up a bit longer, until CJ was ready to throw the steaks on the grill. He realized at her age it was uncommon, but Liebe seemed to pay attention to adults’ conversations, and appeared to process every word said. A half-hour or so later, Owen again announced it was bedtime.

CJ’s stern look quieted the incipient fussing. “Be a good girl and go to sleep, Munchkin. If you don’t make a fuss, we’ll do something fun tomorrow.”

By the time Owen returned, the men had adjourned to the balcony, where CJ guarded the sizzling meat. “It’ll be another minute or so, guys. Why don’t you get the side dishes from the kitchen? I’ll bring these in.”

“I like Mexican food. A lot. But it’s good to have an old-fashioned meat and potatoes meal.” Lincoln accepted a refill on his wine. “And having a Liston wine again is a treat.”

“It’s good stuff.” Calum had been complimentary of it from his first sip. “So you played American footy in school?” The question, directed at Lincoln, was the result of biographical bits the four men had exchanged, trying to provide quick background sketches.

“Yep. Wayne State University in Detroit. That’s where I’m from.”

“Ya should come play rugby with us, mate. You’d kill it on the pitch. Owen’s gonna.”

“Hey! I never said I would. What I said was I’d think about it and talk to CJ. We’re still settling in, and we have a toddler to consider.”

“You should play, Oz. Liebe and I can watch and cheer.” CJ had done the same during spring back in Washington and the girl had enjoyed getting as dirty as the players when rains resulted in muddy fields.

Lincoln’s gaze shifted between the two Australians. “Is this another gay team like the one in D.C.?”

“Owen told me about that. The Scandals?” Calum received three nods. “Nah, mostly straight crowd, but a few of us poofs play. We have a little expat league going. Mostly Commonwealth countries. The Aussies and Kiwis dominate, we have a team of our own together. And we have a couple of Papuans on it. Papua New Guinea doesn’t have an embassy in Mexico, the one in Washington handles their affairs here, but they have a tiny office with a couple of trade reps in it. Those islanders are big blokes. I’m glad they play with us.” His laughter was contagious.

CJ already liked the man. He was certainly eye candy but his personality was the real attraction. Damn Aussies were always so damn chill. “When and where do you guys play?”

“Ah, mate, that’s the beaut of it for you guys. We practice one night a week and play matches on Saturdays or Sundays. And it all happens across the street at the park’s athletic fields.” Those were part of the many attractions at Bosque de Chapultepec.

“Our team plays Sunday lunchtime. You should come watch.”

Lincoln shrugged. “I’m free. If you guys go, I’ll join you. Although I suspect the quality of play won’t be as good as Old Glory’s.”

‘What are old glories?” Calum appeared slightly confused.

“Old Glory. Singular. It’s Washington’s professional rugby team. CJ and Ozzie own it.” Lincoln must have known he had thrown a grenade into the conversation. He smirked.

Calum’s expression morphed into utter surprise. “You guys have your own team?”

“We don’t. Linc’s an ass. He’s exaggerating.” CJ sighed realizing an explanation was due. “Professional rugby’s fairly new to the U.S., Calum. Our hometown was awarded a franchise that started playing in 2020. While the team was being created, we were offered the opportunity to buy a minority interest in it, and we did.”

“Mate, teams in the big American sports sell for hundreds of millions, if not billions.” One day spent surrounded by Australians, and Owen’s accent and use of mate had already increased. “Major League Rugby franchises go for around five mill only. And anyway, we just own like two-and-a-half percent of the team.”

Calum softly whistled. “Still a lot of money. I’m getting the impression that’s not an issue with you guys. I mean, this flat’s so damn Gucci it must cost a fortune. You must know some big shots to even get asked to invest. How did that happen?”

“The team sought us out. They wanted to have LGBTQ representation in the ownership group, so they asked around. D.C.’s mayor suggested César Abelló and Brett Davenport—”

CJ spoke up before Owen could finish. “Did Owen mention I have two fathers?”

Calum nodded.

“That’s them. They’ve raised money for Mayor Bowser. That’s how she knows them.”

“I was going to mention that before I was so rudely interrupted.” Owen showed his husband a middle finger. “Calum, as an aside, days after arriving in Washington, I was at one of those fundraising cocktail parties at his fathers’ place. I got to meet the mayor, and I thought that was as good as it got. I mean, the mayor of America’s capital.” His grin was pure evil.

CJ knew something was coming and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Where ya going with this, Oz?”

Owen ignored him. “Little did I know at the time my now husband was a publicity hound and the city’s mayor was bush league.”


“Anyway, the team asked the District’s representative in Congress for recommendations too, and she suggested CJ. The Scandals’ president mentioned my name when he was contacted. We have no idea who else was on the list of potential investors, but they asked us.”

“Why the two of you and not CJ’s fathers?”

“I can answer that one.” Lincoln nodded when CJ offered him a refill. “Think about it. Assuming money’s not an issue, who better than a gay, married couple, young, good looking, and at the time planning on their first child. Their marketing people had to be drooling. Then add one of the guys, an Australian, happens to play rugby. The other one’s a Cuban-American, and he’s had his fifteen minutes of fame several times over. You do know CJ’s friends with presidents, movie stars, and famous athletes, right?”


Calum appeared surprised. “Owen didn’t mention any of that. You guys really hang with that type of people?”

“Oh, please. CJ and Ozzie know everybody. Didn’t you see the social pages spread on last Sunday’s newspaper?” For his comment, Lincoln was rewarded with glares from his hosts.

“I did. Someone at the embassy passed it around. Something about a fellow Aussie making a splash as soon as in country.” Calum’s expression sobered. “Ummm, there was a picture of the two of you with a blond guy in between. You lads know who he is?”

CJ, Owen, and Lincoln traded questioning looks. CJ decided he was not breaking any rules by discussing Yevgeny Domogarov. “Yep. Russian spy. I warned Owen to be careful around him and filed the proper report.”

“Definitely be careful around him. I had a nasty run-in with him soon after arriving in Mexico. The fucker’s a proper cunt.”

“What happened?” Lincoln was after all a police officer; a follow-up question, looking for additional information, seemed appropriate.

Nearing the end of the meal, the initial wine bottle was long gone, and the men were well on their way to polishing off the second one. When Owen raised it with a questioning look, everyone proffered their glasses for a refill.

“This happened last year. I’d gone out to a club with a couple of mates. The place was popular with younger diplomatic types, several languages could be heard through the predominant Spanish, and it was common for strangers to approach and start chatting when they heard a familiar tongue.

“I’d already had a couple, and when this blond guy offered to buy me another one, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Gay bar?” Lincoln asked.

“Nah, mate. But you know the party crowd. It’s mostly live and let live.” Calum shrugged. “I was horny, so when the guy suggested slipping out, I followed.”

“I’ve never followed a stranger out of a bar.” CJ considered that an achievement worthy of bragging.

“That’s ’cause by the time you could legally enter one, you and I had been dating for years.” Owen waved his glass at Calum. “Ignore my husband and carry on.”

“Later, I figured out I’d been targeted, and Domogarov planned the evening in advance. He had a room in a nearby hotel, claiming his place was all packed for moving the following day.” Calum leaned back in his chair. “Had it all set, the tosser. He pulled a bottle of Russian vodka from the mini-fridge and his dick out of his trousers after we’d done a few shots.”

Calum shook his head and smirked. “Sooo, he says I have cocksucker lips and my proper place’s on my knees worshiping his cock. I decked him.”


“You go, mate.”

“Anyway, the guy’s fit and strong, but I was stronger. We wrestled for a couple of minutes, I ripped his pants off, pinned him to the ground, and shoved my cock in him.”

“You raped him?” Lincoln sounded cautious.

“Not sure how much of a rape it was, mate. Once I unloaded and unmounted, he turned on his back. Dirty fucker had moaned like a bitch in heat and spunked while I fucked him.”

“Goddamn! Is there video?”

“Shut up, CJ. Why did I marry a pervert?”

“Takes one to know one, babe.”

“He probably deleted it if there was. Not sure he wanted to share that clip with his superiors.” Lincoln was somehow able to speak through the laughter. “I’ve heard a couple of similar stories about him. One from someone at our embassy. I wonder what Mrs. Domogarov, back in Moscow with their two sons, would say about her husband’s approach to spycraft.”

“He’s married?” Calum sounded smug. “He enjoyed getting dicked. I wonder if his wife puts out as easily as he does.”

“What, you wanna nail her too?”

“Nah, mate. I’m allergic to pussy.”


“Alcohol loosened Calum’s tongue tonight.” CJ slipped off the blue jeans and white, V-neck pullover and slid in bed next to Owen.

“I don’t think it was so much the alcohol as the company, Ceej. You heard him. A nice dinner with three other gay men, not having to worry about behaving and possibly embarrassing the embassy, was a treat. I like him.”

“Same here. And I think Linc might be interested in him. I wonder what two built tops would do in bed.”

“Pervert! Hey, what did you think of Lupe?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t spend much time with her. Cute and shy were my initial impression. Why you asking?

“Because I spent a little time with her in the afternoon. I was working on my laptop, and she kept staring at it. I asked her if she wanted to borrow yours or a tablet to go on the internet, and she admitted she didn’t know-how. What do you think about giving her one?”

“A tablet? As a present?”

“Yeah… I mean, we have three of the damn things. Even a used one would be something to her. And we could teach her how to use it whenever she comes over. I told Infanta Lupe was welcome whenever she had a day off school.”

“That’s sweet of you, Oz.” CJ leaned over and kissed his husband. “I doubt they have internet access at home, so not sure how much use she’d get out of it.”

“Crap! I didn’t think of that.”

“Tell you what. Let’s sleep on it. All that booze we had… Well, I’m probably not at my sharpest right now. We’ll brainstorm something tomorrow.”

Copyright © 2021 Carlos Hazday; All Rights Reserved.
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Thank you to my support team, you improved the story. Any remaining errors are my responsibility. And thank you to all readers for supporting me. I hope to hear from you.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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. 
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