Seagull's Bay - 3. "In The Shattering Of Things"

Nicholas slowly stirred, his eyes adjusting to the soft light as he turned his head, seeing Beth sleeping soundly beside him. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, her features relaxed. But as he looked upon her, a sharp pang of guilt shot through his heart. The lingering memories of his escapade from the previous night clung to him like a dark cloud. Try as he might, he couldn't shake off the heavy burden of remorse that now bore down upon him.

The vision of Marcus writhing in pleasure as Ledger and Dawson fucked his hole into submission consumed Nicholas' every thought. He had only gone to retrieve his jacket from the boy's house but instead found himself peering through the window, unable to look away from the enthralling fuck show unfolding before him. The raw, uninhibited display between those three men was etched into his mind. His already festering longing grew more explicit and carnal as he indulged in twisted fantasies, imagining himself in those men's places, basking in the feel of his throbbing cock sliding inside Marcus' inviting pucker. Every detail of that moment replayed relentlessly in his mind. Ledger's massive dick pushing inside Marcus. Dawson's laughter as he watched. The sounds that broke from Marcus' mouth. His perfect, smooth body crushed into the mattress. The moans, the groans, the wails, and the howls. And the smell. Fuck, the smell. A cocktail of cum, spit, sweat, and booze, each adding fuel to the fire of Nicholas' growing lust, now impairing his mind and numbing his every thought.

Silently, he slipped out of the warm cocoon of blankets and tiptoed across the creaky floorboards to the bathroom, his hand already stroking his cock. He walked over to the toilet and gently opened the lid, sitting down. By now, he was fired up, pumping his meat, his orgasm a breath away. After all, he had been replaying in his mind for the last couple of hours what was now his most vivid sexual fantasy, enacted before his eyes just hours earlier.

"Fuck..." Nicholas softly groaned, his breath trying to keep steady and low as he beat his meat with gusto. He could feel it coming. He had been edging himself for hours. And just as the first warm waves began to tickle his groin, a soft knock on the door broke his concentration.

"Nicholas, is everything alright?" Beth's voice called.

"Mother fucker..." Nicholas stammered through gridded teeth. He could feel the anger and frustration building, a sharp rage brewing.

"I heard you panting," Beth insisted, her voice gentle and concerned. But at this point, Nicholas was over it.

"I'm taking a shit, Beth. Do you mind?" he said, words rough and disparaging. He immediately rued his outburst, sensing his wife's feet moving away, back to bed. As he glanced back down, he frowned. His soft cock rested inside his hand, looking positively depressed. Nicholas sighed, his neck falling back, eyes on the ceiling.

After a quick rinse, he tiptoed out of the room, bypassing Beth and descending the stairs to the kitchen. The soft morning light sifted through the windows, a hazy glow sweeping over the room as he prepared a pot of coffee. His thoughts drifted back to Marcus as he waited for it to brew. But the setting had shifted. He was now focused on the intensity in the boy's eyes and his lips's raw vulnerability. The energy of the kiss they had shared felt quite different from what he had witnessed later on. And strangely enough, Nicholas felt he had tapped into a part of the boy he kept hidden, a part that wasn't present when Ledger and Dawson were fucking him.

His phone buzzed as he sat at the kitchen table, lingering on his thoughts and sipping his coffee. It was Tom.

"Hey, man," Tom's cheerful and inviting voice greeted through the speaker. "We're having a barbecue at our house. You and Beth should join us," he added. Nicholas hesitated, glancing at the upstairs hallway towards his room where Beth had fallen back asleep.

"Sure. Why not...what time?" he asked.

"Come by around noon," Tom said. "Bring the boys. We have a pool. Plenty of food and drinks, too," he enticed.

"We'll be there," Nicholas replied, his eyes squinting as the sunlight coming through the kitchen window covered his eyes.

"Now that's what I'm talking about. Later, man!" Tom said before unceremoniously ending the call.

Nicholas lingered there, the phone still leaning against his ear, before finally punching it over the counter. He knew he couldn't let this obsession take control and overshadow his judgment. After all, he had a whole day to get through. He began pacing around the kitchen, determined to distract himself. He chopped some mushrooms and peppers with quick, precise movements and sizzled bacon on the stovetop.

Beth eventually woke up and joined him in the kitchen, her familiar presence slightly comforting.

"Morning," she said, giving him a warm smile. "What's the plan?" she asked, sitting on one of the stools, her gaze still vacant.

"Tom invited us for a barbecue at their beach house," Nicholas replied, trying to sound casual. Beth's face frowned.

"Did you say yes?" she immediately questioned.

"...yes," Nicholas replied, causing her eyes to roll to the back of her head. "I bet she's not that bad. I mean, she married Tom, and he's pretty laid back," Nicholas reasoned.

"They're both weird. And rich...and..." she muttered like a spoiled child.

"Hey, look at me," Nicholas said, sliding his elbows over the counter. "We need to mingle," he argued before his eyes peeked at Jett and Brandon's rooms. "And it might be good for the boys," he added, knowing Beth would concede to anything for her children. She took a deep breath, exhaling deeply.

"Fine," she finally said. Nicholas smiled and slid a plate with the most perfectly cooked omelet in front of her. "God, I love you," she muttered, picking up her fork and taking a massive bite into her mouth.

The hours passed uneventfully as they prepared for the barbecue. Brandon, of course, needed some convincing, but after fifteen minutes of grilling and passive-aggressive back and forth, he conceded.

Nicholas felt a wave of leisure wash over him as they finally arrived at the Marshall's stunning beach house. The property exuded charm, with its large wooden deck perched on the ocean's edge, offering breathtaking views of the sparkling water. The scent of charcoal and sizzling meat stemmed from the already smoking grill in anticipation of what promised to be a mouthwatering feast.

Tom's face lit up with a broad, genuine grin as he greeted them at the door. Jodie welcomed them warmly, her eyes sparkling with condescending energy. But despite what Beth expected, the two families mingled easily, Jett darting off to play with Tom's boys, Seth and Marty, while the adults settled into comfortable conversations. Brandon barely spoke, popping his sunglasses on and wandering around the property for a few minutes before finally coasting on one of the sunbeds.

Beth and Jodie quickly connected, their chatter flowing like a cakewalk, forming an instant bond over their somewhat similar experiences. Contrary to what Beth had initially thought, Jodie revealed herself as a warm, down-to-earth person. Her shallow veneer quickly fading as their conversation veered into personal territory.

"It's tough sometimes," Beth confided as they sat on the deck, sipping iced tea. "I feel like we're always pushing through for the kids, but keeping things together is hard," she confessed. Jodie nodded sympathetically.

"I know exactly how you feel," Jodie acknowledged. "God...sometimes I just want to kill him," she disclosed, a playful tone to her words as she gazed at her husband flipping burgers. "Tom and I have had rough patches, too, but we try to make it work," she said, focusing her attention back on Beth.

"How?" Beth questioned, exhaling with frustration. "I can barely get his attention," she confessed, her eyes locked on Nicholas, who stood by the grill, talking to Tom.

"Separate bathrooms," Jodie quipped, causing Beth to chuckle. "And I ignore the fact that his browser is stacked with porn," she added. Beth's eyes grew in surprise. "And honey, you don't even wanna know the kind of things I've seen in there," she razzed, ushering a complicitous giggle between the two.

"But..." Beth stammered. "Are you okay with that?" she asked.

"Look, men are pigs. I know I can't satisfy my husband's every kink," Jodie whispered. "But I rather deal with a porn addiction than an affair," she added, her eyes changing slightly as if a sudden sadness had taken over them. Beth's gaze waved at Jodie, welcoming a newfound respect for that woman she now felt guilty for so obviously and harshly misjudging.

Meanwhile, Brandon's sharp chestnut eyes had taken a keen, unexpected interest in Tom. Like a predator stalking its prey, he had moved away from the seclusion of his sunbed and now shadowed the silver-haired host around the grill, always just a step behind. With each question and calculated comment, his intentions were clear: to make Nicholas feel excluded and to drive a wedge into his father's good mood. His actions were almost cruel, as if he took pleasure in the conflict. Despite the pleasant atmosphere, Nicholas felt a growing, gnawing sense of irritation fueled by Brandon's antagonistic behavior as the boy seemed to be going out of his way to provoke him, making it increasingly difficult for Nicholas to keep his cool.

Needing a break, he excused himself and went inside the house to find the bathroom. As soon as he stepped through the sliding glass doors, the noise from outside was muted, replaced by the quiet elegance of Tom and Jodie's home. The interior of the house was nothing short of breathtaking. The entryway opened into a spacious living area with vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning ocean view. The decor was modern yet comfortable, with plush sofas and armchairs arranged around a large stone fireplace. A grand piano sat in one corner, its polished surface caroming the afternoon sunlight. Nicholas walked further in, his footsteps muffled by the thick, cream-colored carpets. The walls were adorned with tasteful artwork. Abstract pieces that added splashes of color to the room's neutral tones. He admired the balance of style and comfort, noting the subtle touches that conveyed wealth and careful curation. There were custom-built shelves filled with books and decorative items and a large, flat-screen TV mounted above the fireplace.

He wandered into the dining area, where a massive wooden table, surrounded by high-backed chairs, dominated the space. The table was already set for dinner, with elegant place settings and a vase of fresh flowers as the centerpiece. Beyond the dining room was the kitchen, separated by a large island with granite countertops and state-of-the-art appliances. It exuded warmth and functionality with its open shelving and neatly organized utensils. Nicholas couldn't help but chuckle sarcastically, thinking of how many hours he would have to slave at work to afford Tom's overpriced fridge alone, never mind the whole house.

He finally found the bathroom just off the main hallway. It was as luxurious as the rest of the house, with marble countertops, a deep soaking tub, and a walk-in shower with multiple jets. He washed his hands, splashing some water on his face in an attempt to cool down both physically and mentally. He took a deep breath as he dried his hands on a soft, monogrammed towel. Just as he was about to leave, he heard murmurs coming from the kitchen. Curiosity piqued, so he quietly approached the door, careful not to make any noise. The voices became clearer as he got closer, and he could distinguish Tom's smooth and confident voice mixed with Brandon's, which held a slight edge to it.

Peering around the corner, Nicholas' heart sank. There, in the kitchen, he saw Tom's towering figure leaning casually against the counter, his body language relaxed and open. Brandon stood close to him, too close for Nicholas' comfort, looking up at Tom with an expression that was a mix of admiration and something else Nicholas couldn't quite place. Tom was speaking softly, his tone flirtatious.

"I can definitely give you some cool bench press sets. But by the looks of it, you're doing just fine by yourself," Tom's voice stated, his eyes scanning Brandon's upper body. Brandon's eyes squinted, and he smirked, clearly flattered.

"Really?" the boy salaciously whispered, his tongue glazing his plump lips. Tom reached out, placing a hand on Brandon's shoulder. The gesture was casual, but to Nicholas, it felt loaded with intention.

"Fuck, yeah," Tom groaned, his hand sliding down Brandon's chest, tugging at the boy's t-shirt. They both chuckled.

Hidden behind the door, Nicholas' blood boiled. The scene felt inappropriate, and how Tom looked at Brandon made him deeply uncomfortable. He wanted to burst in, pull Brandon away, and confront Tom, but he forced himself to stay hidden and watch a little longer. Brandon's voice was quiet but not shy.

"I wish my dad took notice," the boy conveyed, causing Tom's expression to soften slightly.

"Your dad's a good guy, Brandon. He cares about you, even if he doesn't always show it...the way you want," Tom advised.

Nicholas felt a pang of blame mixed with anger. He knew he had to intervene, but he also needed to do it in a way that wouldn't escalate the situation further. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the kitchen, his footsteps deliberately loud to announce his presence.

"Hey, there you are," Nicholas said, forcing a casual tone as he approached. "I was looking for the bathroom and got lost." he lied. Tom straightened up, his hand dropping from Brandon's chest.

"No problem, man. It's a big place," Tom stated, his demeanor eerily at ease, considering. "Is everything alright?" he questioned. Nicholas nodded slowly. "Yeah, everything's fine. Your mom was looking for you," he added, glancing at his son. Brandon's eyes flicked between his father and Tom, a hint of annoyance crossing his face.

"Sure, whatever," he mumbled, his demeanor shifting immediately. He turned and left the kitchen, leaving Nicholas and Tom alone. Tom raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Something on your mind, man?" Tom asked, smirking. Nicholas clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his composure.

"Just making sure everything's okay. Brandon's still young, and I'm not sure he understands…boundaries," he stated. Tom's smile widened, but there was an acerbity to it.

"Don't worry, Nicholas. I was just giving the boy some advice. No harm done," Tom explained, smiling. Nicholas forced a smile in return, but his mind was racing.

"Thanks, Tom. I appreciate it," Nicholas replied.

As he turned to leave, Nicholas couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had suddenly settled in his gut. And as the day wore on, the tension between him and Brandon crackled like sparks from a fire. All the while, the boy's calm demeanor never wavered, like a poker player hiding his true hand. His son's actions felt like sharp stings, each remark a calculated jab designed to hurt him. Brandon's attempts to bond with Tom seemed deliberate, almost malicious as if he were purposely trying to undermine Nicholas and show him up in front of everyone. He wondered if this was Brandon's way of punishing him, of expressing the resentment that had been building over the years.

"Hey, did you know Tom used to play college football?" Brandon called out, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Offensive guard, I bet," the boy added, sticking his tongue out friskily. Tom laughed, ruffling Brandon's hair.

"Jesus Christ, that was a long time ago, kid. I'm sure your dad's got plenty of his own stories," Tom replied, trying to divert Brandon's attention away from him. The boy's eyes turned to Nicholas, a cold, calculated glint in them.

"I'm sure he does," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But I'd rather hear yours," Brandon whispered, eyes falling back to Tom and his voice loud enough for his father to hear. Nicholas clenched his jaw, forcing a smile as he stepped away from the grill. But as he did, he inadvertently overheard Tom and Brandon conversing.

"So, what do you play?" Tom said, his voice purposely trying to slide under the general noise. Brandon's gaze, now locked on him, didn't waver.

"Wide receiver," Brandon replied, his words almost moaned. Tom's wrist froze, and the burger he was flipping was now hovering over the grill. He turned his head back, his eyes latched on the boy's smirk.

"Good to know..." he whispered.

The words stung more than Nicholas cared to admit. He turned away, trying to hide the anger bubbling up inside him. But Brandon wasn't done. Throughout the day, he made little jabs, subtle enough to go unnoticed by the others but sharp enough to cut Nicholas to the core. The sun began to set over Tom and Jodie's expansive backyard, and though the barbecue was still going, the atmosphere had grown tense.

Tom and Jodie's teenage sons, Seth and Marty, played on the grass nearby, occasionally glancing at the adults with mild interest. Seth, the older of the two at sixteen, was trying to teach his younger brother Marty, who was twelve, some new football tricks. They laughed and roughhoused, enjoying the evening despite the brewing storm between Nicholas and Brandon playing in the back. Nearby, Jett was playing with a beach ball, bouncing it around the pool's edge. He was lost in his world, blissfully unaware of the escalating conflict.

"I think you should tone it down, Brandon," Nicholas' voice boomed, frustration and exhaustion evident in every word. Brandon's face, however, was a mask of defiance.

"Chill, dude. You're gonna give yourself a nosebleed," Brandon provoked. Nicholas' body was now a puddle of bottled nerves, pacing around the deck, trying to cage his desire to lunge at Brandon's neck. The argument grew louder, the tension tangible.

Suddenly, Jett, distracted by the rising voices, misjudged his step and slipped on the pool's edge. With a muted splash, he fell into it, the beach ball bouncing across the surface. Jett's head bobbed above the water momentarily, his eyes wide with panic. He kicked frantically, trying to stay afloat, but the water was deep, and he couldn't touch the bottom. His tiny arms flailed, the ongoing argument muffling his cries for help.

"Jesus Christ, dude!" Brandon yelled, his face flushed with anger. "Why are you always so uptight?" he questioned.

"Because I'm trying to teach you to be a decent human being, you spoiled little...!" Nicholas shot back, his voice shaking with the effort to keep his temper in check. A volcanic eruption of anger shook the air between Nicholas and Brandon as they faced off in a heated argument. Each word from Brandon's lips was like a serrated knife, slicing through Nicholas' skin and digging into raw wounds.

"You're such a hypocrite," Brandon snarled, his tone thick with hatred and resentment. "You parade around like this perfect family man, but deep down, you're just a..." he uttered before Nicholas' voice cut him off, flaring.

"You shut the fuck up, Brandon!" Nicholas yelled.

The argument rose to a fever pitch, capturing everyone's attention. Elizabeth and Jodie frantically tried to intervene, their voices imploring for calm amidst the chaos. Meanwhile, Seth and Marty noticed something was wrong. Their eyes widened as they saw Jett struggling in the pool, his face barely breaking the surface before slipping under again.

"Mom!" Seth screamed, the boy's voice cutting through the cacophony. They all turned, their eyes following Seth's finger pointing towards the pool.

The world seemed to snap into focus for Nicholas. He spun around, his heart stopping as he saw Jett's small form struggling in the water. Without a second thought, he sprinted to the pool and dove in, his body cutting the surface like an arrow. He grabbed Jett under the arms and kicked upwards, his head breaking the surface. Jett was coughing and sputtering, clinging to his father with all his might. Nicholas pulled the boy out of the pool, cradling him close. Elizabeth rushed over, her face pale with fear.

"Jett!" she stammered, yanking the boy from Nicholas' arms, wrapping him in a towel as he continued to cough and cry. Jodie, Tom, and Brandon gathered around, their faces a mix of concern and shock. The tension from the argument had suddenly dissipated, replaced by a collective worry for the little boy who had come so close to disaster. Elizabeth's fear quickly turned to anger as she turned on Nicholas. "How could you let this happen? You were supposed to be watching him!" she condemned. Nicholas felt a surge of remorse crash over him.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't see..." Nicholas stuttered.

"Of course you didn't. How could you?" she shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. "You were too busy arguing with Brandon!" she pressed. Brandon stood off to the side, his expression of shock and guilt as he stared at his little brother coughing inside his mother's arms.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. Elizabeth looked at him, her anger softening slightly but her resolve unwavering.

"We're leaving," she uttered, standing up and carrying Jett to the car. Brandon opened his mouth to protest but then closed it, understanding the gravity of the situation. He nodded reluctantly and followed Beth to the vehicle.

As Elizabeth gathered their things, followed by Jodie, Nicholas felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Tom standing behind him, his face grave.

"I'm so sorry, man," Tom apologized. Nicholas shook his head, feeling the day's weight pressing down on him.

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who should apologize. We ruined your barbecue," Nicholas expressed. Tom threw him a smile.

"Shit happens. Family life, right?" he joked. Nicholas nodded, appreciating Tom's attempt at cheering him up but feeling too overwhelmed to respond appropriately. But as he followed Elizabeth, Brandon, and Jett towards the car, Tom stopped Nicholas again. "Hey man, if you want...you can stop by anytime. We can have a drink and talk. No pressure," he offered. Nicholas glanced at his family, then back at Tom. Part of him wanted to escape for a little while, to drown his sorrows in alcohol and forget about the day's events.

"I'll think about it," he said, giving Tom a weary smile before walking to the car. His mind swirled with guilt, confusion, and fatigue. As he climbed into the driver's seat, he looked back at the beach house, feeling that he was leaving more than just a barbecue behind.

The drive back to the house was silent, the air layered with tacit words. Elizabeth held Jett close, soothing him as he drifted off to sleep while Brandon stared out the window, his expression unreadable. Nicholas gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He could feel things shifting, changing. An inevitability that felt heavier by the second.

When they got home, Beth locked herself inside Jett's room, turning the shower on and blocking any noise coming from outside. Nicholas seized the opportunity to finally settle things with Brandon. He scoured the house and found the boy alone near the edge of the deck, staring out at the ocean.

"We need to talk," Nicholas said, his voice low and tense. Brandon didn't look at him.

"About what?" the boy countered.

"About this," Nicholas gestured between them. "Whatever is happening between us needs to stop. Now," Nicholas stated. Brandon finally turned his countenance hard.

"Nothing's happening. Nothing ever happens," Brandon pressed, his eyes now locked on his father. Nicholas felt a surge of anger.

"I'm your father, Brandon. You don't get to treat me like shit just because you're angry," Nicholas argued. Brandon's eyes flashed.

"Don't talk to me like you have any idea what I'm feeling," the boy said.

"I would if you talked to me... I'm here, aren't I? I'm trying to be here for you," Nicholas countered, his voice shaky as he tried to keep his cool. But Brandon's voice rose, his father's words tapping into his bottled rage.

"Trying? Is that what you call this? Dragging your family on this fucking vacation, pretending everything is fine..." Brandon spewed, his words sharp and cunning. "Dude, you're a joke. A pathetic joke!" the boy hollered, his hatred-fueled words spreading across the deck like wildfire, eyes trembling.

Suddenly, Nicholas took a step forward, his hands clenched into fists.

"Watch your fucking mouth, boy," Nicholas warned.

"What are you going to do about it?" Brandon taunted with his face inches from Nicholas'. He could feel his son's breath on him, their resemblance suddenly creating a mirrored effect that seemed to pull Nicholas out of his haze. "You gonna hit me? Prove what a great father you are?" the boy provoked. The tension between them crackled, finally drawing Elizabeth out of Jett's room, concern etched on her face.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth demanded, looking between her husband and her son.

"Ask him," Brandon spat, pointing at Nicholas. "Ask him why he can't stand being around his family anymore," he continued, a sliver of his pain breaking through. "Careful," he whispered, closing in on Nicholas just enough to prevent Beth from hearing him. "One of these days, I might have to go out and get myself a new daddy..." the boy whispered with malice. Nicholas felt Beth's eyes on him, the effect of Brandon's words drilling a hole into his battered spirit.

"What happened, Bran...?" Nicholas' voice spoke, frail, defeated. "Where's that sweet boy I raised? Who'd run into my arms every day when I got home? Where is he?" Nicholas questioned, his words faltering.

For a brief second, Nicholas could've sworn Brandon's eyes softened, the boy's throat tightening as he held his emotions at bay. But that soon dismantled, his countenance reverting to his usually cold demeanor.

"I have no idea who you're talking about," Brandon whispered.

"Brandon, enough," Elizabeth said firmly. "Go to your room," she ordered.

Brandon's eyes skimmed his father up and down before he finally turned around and walked inside.

The moment the patio sliding doors drew shut, Nicholas and Beth's shouts blasted. The tension, thick as molasses, had been building since the barbecue. Jett's near-drowning incident had only added fuel to the fire, igniting unresolved issues between them. Like a dormant volcano, their emotions finally erupted into a heated confrontation. Their voices clashed like cymbals, filling the air with a palpable sense of anger and frustration. Beth's voice trembled with rage and desperation as she confronted Nicholas.

"How can you just let it spiral out of control like this?" she demanded, her eyes blazing with tears. "Brandon's our son! You're supposed to be the responsible one, setting an example for him, not bickering like a couple of immature teenagers!" she scolded, her words striking Nicholas like cutlasses, slicing deep into his guilt-stricken heart. A wave of fiery anger surged through Nicholas, threatening to consume him.

"You think I don't fucking know that, Beth?" Nicholas argued. "But I'm not bulletproof, for fuck sake! He kept riding my ass the entire afternoon. Embarrassing me in front of Tom," he reasoned. Beth's eyes narrowed.

"And why do you think that is? Do you even realize how distant you've been? What is going on with you?" Beth drilled. Nicholas hesitated, the truth bubbling up inside him.

"My oldest son hates me, and my wife won't fuck me, so...you figure it out," Nicholas blurted, his words drowning out in immediate regret. Beth's eyes stumble, shivering in disbelief.

"My God, Nick..." she muttered. "Are you that unhappy?" she questioned, her voice eerily soft, as if a truth both were aware of had finally been exposed.

But Nicholas remained silent. He couldn't bring himself to answer. He knew that if he did, it would change everything. And what Nicholas feared more than the truth was change. So, instead, he turned away, running a hand through his hair.

"I need to clear my head," he uttered, rushing out the door.

Beth stood frozen as Nicholas' footsteps pounded against the floor, each echoing like a war drum. He stormed out of the house, his face twisted with anger, and slammed the door behind him with such force that the windows rattled. In a frenzy, he sprinted to his car and peeled out of the driveway, leaving behind a trail of burning rubber and smoke. The streets of Seagull's Bay were a blur as he drove aimlessly, his hands viciously gripping the steering wheel, his mind engulfed by hurt and confusion.

Ten minutes later, he was parked outside Tom's house, his fingers messaging Tom. A beat later, his shadow appeared from behind the gate.

"I could use a drink," Nicholas said, shrugging.

With a knowing grin, Tom led Nicholas inside, through the garden, past the pool, and down to a secluded annex hidden behind the house. As they entered, Nicholas was hit with the unmistakable scent of oak and leather mixed with the faint aroma of cigars. The space was a man cave dream come true. A polished pool table stood proudly in the center, surrounded by plush leather armchairs and a fully stocked bar against one wall. Above it all, a massive flat-screen TV dominated the room, ready to showcase an epic game or movie night. But what truly caught Nicholas' attention were the walls adorned with framed sports memorabilia. He could already envision Tom's wild nights spent here enjoying the privacy only a place like this could provide, smoking weed, watching porn, and beating off.

Tom carefully poured a generous amount of whiskey into two crystal glasses, each emitting a musical chime as their edges met. He handed one to Nicholas, the amber liquid sloshing gently within its confines. As they clinked drinks, the sound of tinkling glass filled the room. They settled onto the plush couch, sinking into its soft cushions, and Nicholas could feel the weight of the day begin to lift. The smooth burn of alcohol flowed freely down their throats, the warmth spreading through their bodies and melting away any lingering tension. It wasn't long before Nicholas got drunk. Really drunk.

"Here," Tom called, extending his hand holding a lit joint.

Nicholas picked it up and drove the joint to his mouth, inhaling deeply before pushing a cloud of smoke into the air. He could immediately feel his body sink into the couch.

"Fuck, that feels good," Nicholas mumbled, his speech lagging slightly.

He felt so relaxed he failed to notice his cock was getting hard, his bulge now stretching the fabric of his pants. After a few puffs, he unfurled his eyes, glancing at Tom, who sat beside him. He was rubbing his own bulge, his blue eyes locked on Nicholas' cock. Tom's energy had changed. It hummed with an almost predatory edge, sending shivers up his spine. His hand slid across the couch and landed on Nicholas' knee.

"You want help with that?" Tom asked, his voice eerily husky. His words carried a suggestive tone laced with lust and desire. His touch lingered just a moment too long, igniting a fire within Nicholas that he couldn't deny. Nicholas looked down at his 9-inch shaft, chuckling, his body recoiling with embarrassment.

"Shit, man. I'm so sorry," he apologized, sliding his hand inside his pants, trying to tuck his dick back inside his undies, the tip already peeking out of them.

He tried to pull up, but suddenly, out of nowhere, Tom's massive figure fell sideways on the couch, his hand pushing Nicholas' back into it.

"Shhh...relax, man," he groaned, pulling Nicholas' hand out of his pants and immediately sliding his own inside, grabbing his guest's cock. He began to stroke it very slowly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Nicholas mumbled, confusion and apathy mixed together.

"Helping out a friend," Tom whispered, leaning his head into Nicholas' neck. He stopped inches from it, lips barely touching his skin. "You really have no idea how fucking sexy you are. Do you, Nicholas?" he questioned, his tongue teasing the tip of Nicholas' earlobe.

"Dude, this is wrong," Nicholas moaned, his body shivering with pleasure as he felt Tom's warm hand pulling on his foreskin.

"Then why is your dick throbbing right now, man?" Tom teased, increasing the rhythm of his strokes. Nicholas' head snapped back, his hair bouncing with it. His breath got heavy, and he could feel Tom's mouth moving closer to his, his friend's nose basking on his breath.

"Tom...stop," Nicholas begged, even though every ounce of his body disagreed.

"Stop what?" Tom mocked, his thumb rubbing on the tip of Nicholas' cock, leaking with precum. He pulled his hand out and took his finger to his mouth.

"Dude, wait," Nicholas uttered, grabbing Tom's wrist.

But Tom's determination was relentless. He yanked his hand away from Nicholas and wrapped his mouth around his cum soaked finger, closing his eyes in delight as he groaned. Then, he slid down, knees hitting the ground, and he started unzipping Nicholas' pants, yanking them down and unleashing his cock, which bounced up like a slingshot, hitting his stomach with a loud slap. A string of precum whipped with it, splattering over his abdomen. Tom locked his hands under Nicholas' knees and pulled his legs up.

Suddenly, Nicholas felt a knot of unease in his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or something more profound, but he knew at that moment he needed to leave.

"I have to go," he said abruptly, trying to push his legs down. But he suddenly felt Tom's strength resisting his attempt, deliberately keeping him down.

"No, you don't," he forced, head diving between Nicholas' legs. Seconds later, he felt Tom's tongue graze his hole. Nicholas' eyes gaped, and he kicked his legs forward, knocking Tom back.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he hollered, a powering surge in his voice. Tom looked surprised but didn't protest.

"Okay, man. It's cool," he eased, slowly lifting himself off the ground, his hands up in the air as Nicholas's arms struggled, trying to get his pants back up. "It's late...you can crash here if you want," Tom suggested, a disturbingly casual tone to his proposal.

"No, I need to leave," Nicholas replied, his voice firmer than he felt. "This shouldn't have happened," Nicholas uttered, eyes darting for his phone.

"Jesus Christ," Tom uttered, his tone suddenly shifting. "No wonder the kid hates you," he mumbled, walking over to the bar and filling half a glass of whisky.

"What did you just say?" Nicholas questioned, his eyes squinting at Tom's remark.

"I mean, look at you? You're a fucking mess, Nicholas," he said with a surprisingly gentle tone. Noticing Nicholas's astonished look, he chuckled. "Just fucking let go, man," he counseled. Nicholas picked his phone off the table and rushed for the door, but not before turning around.

"Thanks for the drinks, Tom," he stated before slamming the door behind him.

He made his way out of the annex, his steps unsteady but determined. The cool night air hit him, clearing his head slightly. The day's events swirled in his mind as he drove home, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions and unresolved desires. Tom had been friendly, perhaps too friendly, and Nicholas had felt a current of something more beneath the surface. Something he wasn't ready to face.

Nicholas's thoughts spiraled out of control as he got into his car and started driving. The night's quiet and the engine's hum did nothing to soothe his troubled mind. He thought about Beth and their marriage and how the weight of responsibilities and unmet expectations had eroded the bond they once shared. He pictured her face the way it had twisted with anger and fear after Jett's near-drowning. He had let her down, and the guilt gnawed at him.

Then there was Brandon. Distant, resentful. The boy's defiance and disdain were like knives to Nicholas's heart, and the argument at the barbecue had only made things worse. He wondered if there was any way to repair their fractured relationship or if it was too late.

And then, as his mind wandered, thoughts of Marcus surfaced. The kiss they shared haunted him, a tantalizing memory that left him yearning for more. And the way Ledger and Dawson fucked him. The rawness, the hunger, the pleasure. He knew it was wrong, but his desire was overpowering, intoxicating.

And then, speeding through Seagull's Bay's dark roads, Nicholas finally realized. His whole life was unraveling. His deep, unmet, hidden desires had finally caught up with him, poisoning everything around him.

Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, Nicholas failed to notice the narrow road snaking perilously close to the edge of a steep cliff. Suddenly, the headlights revealed the sheer drop just in the nick of time. With a violent swerve, the car skidded to a sudden halt only a few feet from the edge. Every beat of his heart reverberated in his chest as the reality of how narrowly he had escaped disaster began to sink in. He sat there motionless, his breaths heavy and labored, gazing at the swirling darkness below. The urge to bring it all to an abrupt end welled up inside him. It seemed so simple to release his grip and surrender, to break free from the torment and uncertainty that consumed him.

As he slumped over the steering wheel, tears cascaded down his cheeks while he pondered the notion of steering the vehicle off the edge. The world seemed to be collapsing around him, the weight of it all becoming unendurable.

But then, an image of Jett flashed in his mind. His sweet, innocent boy. The light in Nicholas's life. His hope in the darkest hours. Jett needed him. No matter how flawed he was or how many mistakes he made, the boy loved him. The thought of leaving Jett without a dad, of causing him that kind of pain, brought Nicholas back from the brink. Sobbing, he gripped the steering wheel, the skin on his knuckles stretching thin. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

Wiping his tears, Nicholas started the car again, his resolve hardening. Even though he couldn't end his life, he also couldn't continue living the way he had been. He needed to confront his feelings, to face the truth about himself.

So, he drove. The roads blurred together for several minutes until he found himself outside Marcus' house. The lights were off, but Nicholas didn't care. He needed to see Marcus. Talk to him.

Fear and determination settled as he sat in the car, staring at the darkened windows. With a deep breath, he stepped out and walked towards the house. The small, unassuming beach cabin seemed to hunker among the landscape, almost blending with it. Then suddenly, the kitchen light came on, and a figure appeared at the door. Marcus stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his presence soothing even from a distance. The boy was stunning, Nicholas thought. His resolve suddenly faltered, but it was too late now. He had been noticed.

Marcus didn't say anything. He just stood there, his gaze gentle yet laced with regard. Nicholas' strength caught up to him, and he stepped forward.

"About ten minutes ago, I was ready to end my fucking life..." Nicholas expressed, fumbling with his words. He felt vulnerable, yet a sense of exhilaration came with it. Maybe because he had never experienced it before. "I didn't, obviously," he joked. "Before I knew it...I was driving here," he continued, chuckling at himself and the surreal situation he had ended up in. But then he paused, his eyes meeting Marcus', whose silence felt all-consuming. "But as soon as I saw your house, I...started feeling better," he conveyed, stopping at the base of the porch steps. He lingered there, his body still slightly tipsy, waiting for Marcus to say something.

"Iodine," the boy uttered. Nicholas frowned.

"What?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"The wind carries it 'cause we're close to the beach. They say it boosts your immune system," Marcus continued, his lips struggling to keep his smile from showing.

"Right," Nicholas replied, his spirit suddenly brightening. He had never noticed how colorful Marcus' dark eyes were. "I don't think that's..." he stammered.

"I know what you meant, Nicholas," Marcus interrupted. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes scanning Nicholas'. He felt his soul being stripped right there. "What do you want?" the boy asked.

The silence hung between them, heavy and pregnant with meaning. Nicholas' resolve wavered as Marcus's words brushed against the evening breeze like a gentle caress. Despite his determination to resist and hold onto the remnants of his old life, the magnetic pull towards Marcus was too strong. It tugged at him relentlessly, like a rip current pulling him out to sea. Nicholas could feel himself getting swept away.

"I want..." Nicholas stuttered, his fear sneaking up on him unannounced. But this time, he resisted. "I want to come inside..." he stammered. "...your house," he added with an endearing urgency. Marcus' lips stretched, sensing Nicholas's internal struggle. They smiled at each other.

"Come on," Marcus invited, tilting his head most adorably, signaling Nicholas to follow him.

And just like that, Nicholas did, a nervous smile on his lips as he closed the door slowly behind him, escorting a gentle click that echoed across the deserted beach.

Outside the house, everything felt quiet, subdued, painfully ordinary.

But inside, Nicholas' entire world was about to change.

(To be continued...)