Beyond the Sea (22 page)

“
Like the songs you hum?”

Troy blinked. “I don’t hum that often. Do I?”

“
All the time.” Brian smiled. “I like it. What are the songs about?”

“
Oh, nothing. I just scribble, really.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve only written bits and pieces of melodies and hooks, parts of lyrics, stories. Not
real
songs.”

“
Ah.” Brian eyed him skeptically, but thankfully didn’t press, as usual. He simply said, “Well, I like folk music.”

“
Thanks.” The memory of coming home to find his guitar gone vibrated through Troy’s mind. But why hadn’t he bought his own in the years since? He was an adult, and Dad was gone. Who would stop him? Why had he stopped himself? Troy wished he had an answer.

After a silence, Brian said, “It’s been six weeks, you know. Forty-two days, to be exact.”

“
Shit. Has it? So weird. When I think about leaving the hotel and going to the airport, it’s like a whole other world and we went back in time. If we ever see a ship, I half expect it to have big white sails and pirates on board.”

Brian chuckled. “Yes, with eye patches and wooden legs. And God,
parrots
.”

They laughed, and Troy said, “Maybe the domesticated kind aren’t as loud as these fuckers.” A mosquito whined close by and he waved it away. “Guess we should get to sleep. It’s pretty late.”

“
I’ll do the bottles.” Brian went about unzipping the suitcase and uncapping the bottles to prop them in the sand, the nightly ritual before the usual rain.

Crawling into the teepee, Troy brushed the sand off his feet with the T-shirt by the door, and changed into his boxers. He supposed they could have just gone naked all the time, but changing his shorts was a kind of ritual of its own. He hadn’t worn his track pants in ages since they were way too hot.

After he was settled under the net with his emergency blanket around his hips, he closed his eyes and listened to Brian putter.

Sometime later, Brian’s sigh filled the teepee in an impatient huff. On his side facing away, Troy kept his eyes closed as he asked, “You okay?”

“
Yeah, fine.” Brian’s voice didn’t sound sleepy at all. “Sorry.”

Troy rolled onto his other side. There was a foot between them under the netting, and in the fading firelight flickering through the entrance, he could make out Brian on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes. “S’okay. Can’t sleep?”

“
Nope. Could barely keep my eyes open this afternoon, but now—nothing.”

“
Yeah. I hate that.” Troy’s skin was tight from too much sun, and he should probably go piss again.

“
If I was home, I’d just—” Brian broke off, snorting out a laugh.

Troy asked playfully, “Jerk one out?”

“
Yup.” Brian lowered his arm, a smile playing on his lips. “Beat the meat.”

A laugh bubbled up from Troy’s chest. “Buff the banana.”

“
Choke the chicken.”

“
Spank the monkey.”

“
Audition your hand puppet.”

Troy scoured his memory. “Celebrate palm Sunday.”

“
Oh, that’s a good one. How about: ride the mayonnaise surf.”

“
What?” He laughed. “Never heard that one. Okay…oh, I’ve got it. Crank the love pump.”

Brian’s shoulders shook. “Yank your plank.”

“
Tickle the pickle.”

“
Shuck your corn.”

They were both laughing—more like giggling, because they were apparently twelve. “Visit Rosie Palm and her five sisters.”

Brian was silent a few moments. “I’ve got it! Make the bald man cry.”

“
Shit, I think I’m out.” Troy racked his brain. “Oh! Wrestle the eel. Although here on the island, we might actually have to do that.”

“
Jesus, let’s hope not.” Brian chuckled and then sighed again. “Christ, I am so horny.”

Relief rushed through Troy. It wasn’t just him. “Tell me about it.”

“
I’ve tried a few times on my walks, but I can’t get off.” Brian laughed incredulously. “TMI, I know.”

Troy laughed too. “It’s fine. I can relate.”

“
It’s like being tired and not being able to sleep. Horny and not able to jack off. The universe is clearly punishing me.”

“
Dude, I hear you.” The thought popped into his head and was out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Want me to try?”

In the silence, Troy’s cheeks went super hot, and his chest tightened. What kind of weird-ass thing was that to say? Sure, when he was a kid he and his friends had circle-jerk competitions, and sometimes he and Bobby Scully had given each other a hand, but that was just normal boy stuff. As an adult he’d never considered it.

Troy cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean…forget it.” He watched Brian, who was staring at the ceiling. “I’m not like, hitting on you.”

Brian met Troy’s gaze in the murk. “I know. Sorry, I was thinking. Guys in prison, or in the navy… They, you know. Help each other out.”

Troy exhaled a bit of the tension keeping him motionless. “Yeah. Or boarding school. Nick—he’s in the band—he went to one of those fancy prep schools, and he said guys got off with each other pretty much nonstop. And he’s a giant pussy hound. But when there are no girls around…”

“
Right.” Brian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Probably do us good. Relieve tension.”

“
Uh-huh. Just jerking. It doesn’t have to be…” The word hung unspoken between them.

Gay.

“
Right,” Brian repeated.

They stared at each other. Troy’s pulse thrummed, blood rushing in his ears. Were they actually going to do this? But why shouldn’t they? Who knew how long it would be until they were rescued? What was the harm in relieving stress?

Brian huffed out a laugh. “This is weird. But I don’t think any native girls in hula skirts are showing up anytime soon, so what the hell.” With a deep breath, he shifted over and shoved his boxers down his hips. Then he licked his palm and spit into it a few times.

Troy’s throat was suddenly dry, his nerves jangling as he pushed down his underwear too. He spit into his hand, and he and Brian faced each other on their sides, still several inches apart.
Just do it.
“Tell me if it’s too…whatever.” He thrust his hand toward Brian’s crotch, grabbing his heavy balls by accident.

With a sharp inhale, Brian seized up. “Buy a lady a drink first,” he squeaked out.

Laughter loosened Troy’s chest, relaxing him a little. “Sorry.” He reached higher for Brian’s shaft. As he stroked tentatively, Brian’s blissful sigh puffed over Troy’s face. He was about to ask if it was okay, but then Brian was taking hold of him, and
oh God
.

Troy bit back a low moan, his teeth gnawing into his lower lip. Brian’s hand was warm and wet, and it felt
so freaking amazing
to be touched again by someone else. Sex had been fun over the years—sometimes great and sometimes okay, sometimes meaningful and sometimes not. But he’d somehow forgotten how deep-down good it was to be touched by another person. It was like the first time all over again.

Except unlike Melissa Fahey, Brian knew what he was doing, being a guy and all. They didn’t look at each other as they stroked roughly; Brian’s eyes were closed, and Troy buried his face in the crook of his arm. He summoned his go-to spank bank image—a blond with great tits going cowgirl on him.

But it was distracting, the whole having-another-guy’s-dick-in-his-hand thing. It had been one thing when he was in middle school to mess around, but Brian was very much a man. As Brian’s cock got hard, it grew longer, and the head dripped.

He was cut, and Troy swiped over the tip and down the ridge on the underside, thinking about what he liked. His knuckles brushed against Brian’s thatch of wiry hair on the down stroke.

They were silent, their labored breathing and the sizzle and pop of the fire outside the only sounds. Troy’s belly tightened, his dick rock hard now in Brian’s grasp, his foreskin pulled back. He pumped his hips, and Brian didn’t seem to mind, increasing the tempo of his jacking.

The only parts of their bodies touching were hands on cocks, and Troy missed the sweaty push and pull of sex, the cries and moans and mutters that would usually fill the air. The open-mouthed kisses that felt as necessary as breathing.

He pressed his lips together harder to stop himself from making noise.
Don’t make it weird.
It was just giving each other relief. No different really than first aid. Troy thought about Brian’s red nipples, and what they’d feel like in his mouth with chest hair brushing his skin.

His breath stuttered, elbow slippery with sweat where he pressed his face. He rubbed Brian faster, trying to keep his mind clear. Fuck, he needed to come. He ached for it, nearing the edge and searching, searching, his legs trembling. His balls tightened, and he bit his arm, thrusting his hips.

The wave of pleasure soared through him, scorching joy flowing to his toes and back again. He spurted, gasping against the soft skin of his inner arm. Brian jerked him loosely, and Troy rode out the aftershocks, liquid pleasure in every pore.

As it faded, he realized he’d stopped the motion of his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Without lifting his head, he refocused on his task. Brian’s hand fell away from Troy’s spent cock, and Troy used more of Brian’s precum for lube as he worked him. He hoped Brian was almost there, because sleep was closing in fast.

Fortunately, Brian shot his load a minute later, splashing Troy’s arm and hand. Troy stroked him through the aftershocks, liking the way Brian shuddered, breathing hard.
I did that
. Part of him didn’t want to let go—wanted to get Brian hard again. Wanted to make him scream this time.

Super weird, dude.

Troy let go and rolled onto his back, tugging up his boxers. Scooting down, he grabbed the sand-removal T-shirt by the door and cleaned himself before wordlessly passing it to Brian. They’d have to do something resembling laundry in the morning.

From the corner of his eye, Troy could see Brian shift to his original position on his back. They didn’t say anything, and as their breathing returned to normal, Troy wriggled his butt, finding a good spot in the sand under the blanket and floor of palm fronds. He stared at the ghostly licks of orange in the white netting above.

Brian cleared his throat. “Thanks, man.”

“
Yeah. You too.”

Before long, Brian’s deep breathing and the distant waves as the tide returned lulled Troy into the best sleep he’d had in weeks.

Karen. Christine? No, wait—
Kylie.
That was it.

As the parrots honked and hooted and obnoxiously celebrated the dawn of another day, Brian stared at the mosquito net draped above him. Troy was already gone, as usual. What wasn’t usual was that they’d
jerked each other off last night.

Brian had slept marvelously, and after cursing the parrots for waking him, his stomach had flip-flopped—and his groin tightened—as it rushed back to him.

Now he was trying to remember the name of the last woman he’d had sex with. Yes, Kylie. He’d been restless and anxious one night, and had gone to the Rocks by the harbor. Plenty of bars there, and he’d never found it difficult to pick up a woman when he wanted. He was handsome enough, but the American accent did the heavy lifting. Would have been even easier if he’d mentioned being a pilot, but he lied and said he was a copywriter. Far fewer questions that way.

He tried to picture Kylie’s face. She’d been blond like Kylie Minogue, and he’d made some comment about a resemblance, which she’d laughed off. Were her eyes blue? Try as he might, she remained a vague blur in his memory. When had that been? He thought back. February, and it was June now.
No wonder I was so pent up.

He sighed. The truth was, he hadn’t been horny much at all the past few years. He jerked off when he couldn’t sleep, but it was more out of habit as a sleep aid then because he was actually turned on. But the last couple weeks on the island, the old familiar pull of desire had hummed in his veins.

That was why he’d tried to jerk off more than once when he was by himself down the beach. The truth was he’d had to stop not because he couldn’t come, but because…

Brian swallowed hard, reluctant to admit it even to himself. He inhaled and exhaled, shuddering.

It was because he’d thought of Troy.

Of course he’d never intended to talk about his horniness, but in the still of the night, there was something about Troy’s presence that lulled him and made him want to spill his secrets. Not that he’d told the
whole
truth. Then Troy had made the suggestion to jerk each other, and Brian couldn’t believe his ears.

But it was true, wasn’t it? Soldiers and sailors and prisoners and boarding school boys got off with each other when they had to. It didn’t mean anything. Stress release. They sure as hell had a buildup of stress.

Brian skimmed his hand down his chest. There was a patch of dried semen on his belly that he’d missed, tightening his skin. He traced it with his fingertips, remembering his powerful orgasm and how incredible it had been to be touched again.