Place Setting

by Claudia Mayrant

  “Ouch.” Gray cringed in sympathy.

  “So he’s busy rebuilding a wall, so I guess it’s just me, the river, and the fish tomorrow—unless…?” Cameron’s voice rose in question.

  Gray was already nodding like he knew where Cameron was going.

  “I know you have a lot going on, and it’s short notice, but maybe your hard work deserves a night off? A retreat, even?”

  “I’ve heard a lot about these little river resorts, very charming, but how’re the amenities?” he joked.

  Cameron leaned forward as close as he could without being scandalous. “Completely full-service.” He batted his eyelashes.

  “Pick me up at nine?”

  CAMERON PICKED Gray up as promised Friday morning. He’d gone to see Aunt Lucy for breakfast, fessing up about his plans when she’d asked about Travis. She’d given a wink when she hugged him goodbye, teasing him with a remark about casting his line to get a nibble. He blushed so hard that he was still pink when he stopped by the feed store for ice, and the checkout lady asked him if he was ill.

  “No, ma’am,” he’d muttered, then made a beeline for the car.

  As Gray buckled up, Cameron nodded toward the cooler in the back seat. “Hot dogs and beer, as promised, though if you want something else, we can stop on the way.”

  “Got stuff for breakfast?” Gray asked.

  Whoops. “I have been known to just finish off the leftovers. Did you know a split hot dog bun will fit in a popup toaster?”

  Gray laughed. “I did not, though I have seen some pretty creative uses of each. How about since you’re providing lodging and dinner, I’ll handle breakfast?”

  That sounded nice, and also intimate, ratcheting up Cameron’s anticipation. Breakfast meant they were spending the night together (obviously), and Cameron was nervous and excited all at once. He might have forgotten breakfast food, but he’d not forgotten the other supplies that were tucked away in his duffel bag.

  “Sounds amazing,” Cameron said honestly. “I hope the shack’s kitchen is sufficient, though it’s far below your usual standards.”

  “No problem, or it better not be, since I’m feeding nearly two hundred people in an old barn next week. If you’ve got a stove or an oven, I’m set.”

  Cameron looked at him sideways. “Got both. What’re we having?”

  Gray flashed a secretive smile. “It’s a surprise.”

  True to that, Gray invited Cameron to wait in the car when they stopped at the BI-LO; then he tucked the bags in the trunk and the cooler so Cameron couldn’t peek.

  He pulled out onto the highway, wondering if he should put on music, when Gray spoke.

  “So tell me more about the illustrious Stick Shack, if you like.” Gray lowered his seat back in a move that was probably for the purpose of switching to a comfortable listening pose but was way too inviting for Cameron to look at.

  Hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, he told himself as he thought of what to say.

  “After my mom died and I went to live with her aunt Lucy, she worried a little that I was missing out by being an only child and living with someone old enough to be my grandmother. So my friend Travis’s family included me in some of their stuff, like trips to the beach or the mountains or just on weekends to the river. That was back before there even was a shack. Back then it was just an old Winnebago. Very classy, but when you’re a kid, who likes fancy?”

  Gray coughed, tipped his sunglasses down to look sideways at Cameron.

  “Well, besides Mr. Future Culinary School—and I want to hear about that—”

  “Later. Please continue,” Gray demurred.

  “So eventually the Winnebago became a mobile home that Travis and I helped his dad spruce up. There’s a screen porch, a patio for grilling, a satellite dish, and we’ve got a little boat out there too. When we were in college, we’d go out on the weekends with a couple of guys and fish and drink beer and bitch about the shitty cell service. Now it’s just a place to get away when we don’t feel like the beach or crowds. As you can see, it’s pretty quiet out here.”

  Cameron turned off onto a blacktop road that was barely two lanes, which soon became a single lane of mostly smooth dirt. Branches of moss-draped trees arched and nearly met overhead, and trees and shrubs threatened to encroach on the road. A few tendrils of vines seemed about to attempt to cross.

  Gray sat up a bit. “I was expecting, like, a trailer park, but this is secluded.”

  Cameron nodded. “A few places dotted around this part of the lake, but yeah, it’s private.” He felt the back of his neck warm as he realized Gray was considering the implications. “Well, here we are.”

  The Stick Shack sat at the end of the road in a small clearing, the patio to one side and the screen porch on the front.

  “I’ll give you the grand tour.” As they unloaded the car and put away the groceries, Cameron pointed out the room on the right of the central kitchen and den area. “That’s Travis’s room, and over here’s mine.”

  Gray picked up their stuff to take it in. Cameron glanced over to see him drop their bags by the little dresser and peek into the bathroom. “Walk-in shower, that’s nice.” His voice echoed a little like he had stuck his head in it. “Definitely room for two,” he was saying as Cameron walked into the bedroom.

  “Seemed more sensible than a tub. You know how dirty you can get doing outdoor things.” Cameron shrugged, trying to be casual.

  Gray took a step closer to him. “Or indoor things.” He placed his hands on Cameron’s hips.

  “I didn’t just bring you here to seduce you,” Cameron half teased. “After all, I brought my fishing pole.” He didn’t mean it to sound like innuendo, but from Gray’s grin, he took it that way.

  “Mm-hm.” Gray tilted his head, considering. “But did you bring any bait?”

  Cameron had to admit that he’d not even thought about it. “Well, you have me there.” He leaned in so their mouths were nearly touching.

  “And you can have me here.” Gray brought their lips together for a kiss.

  Making out in the car had been fun, if cramped, but being with Gray like this, pressed up against each other with no one to interrupt them, was so much better. Cameron’s arms went around his broad shoulders. Gray was just enough taller that Cameron had to tip his back just a little, and even though his profession had him in the kitchen and not on a playing field, Gray was still strong and solid. He kissed Cameron hungrily, treating him to a satisfied little moan when Cameron pressed closer. Gray slipped one of his hands down to cup Cameron’s ass, coaxing him to follow as Gray backed them up to the bed.

  He was manhandling Cameron just a little, and it was doing a lot for Cameron. He wanted to rub against Gray some more to let him feel just how much Cameron liked it, but Gray pulled away. Cameron broke the kiss.

  “This okay?” He nuzzled at Gray’s jawline. Gray’s skin was smooth, a contrast to Cameron’s bit of stubble.

  “Mm-hm, more than,” Gray murmured as he wriggled a bit, toeing off his shoes to crawl onto the bed to kneel facing Cameron. “Just wanted to get more comfortable. Come join me?”

  Cameron didn’t need to be asked twice. He kicked off his flip-flops and half tumbled onto the bed, but Gray caught him before he could topple over. His biceps strained at the sleeves of his weathered polo as he held on; Cameron wanted to bite at them. “Fuck, you’re strong. You get like that working in a kitchen?”

  Gray laughed. “You oughtta see me hauling a sack of potatoes. It’s very sexy.”

  He said it like a self-deprecating joke, but Cameron was picturing it, Gray in chef’s whites tossing a bag of produce around like it was nothing.

  “Okay, but that is seriously hot,” Cameron said, cutting off Gray’s giggling protest with another kiss.

  Cameron let his hands wander over Gray’s shoulders and down his chest, provoking a pleased gasp when his thumb grazed a nipple. Gray squeezed him hard, then moved his hands to the hem of his own shirt and pulled it o
ff to give Cameron more skin to explore. He mouthed at Gray’s shoulders while he stroked and rubbed, tracing his hands down Gray’s sides to dip in the waistband of his shorts. Gray encouraged him with more of those little half-audible sounds and mumbled words that went straight to Cameron’s dick. Gray’s hands did their part, squeezing Cameron’s ass.

  When Cameron slipped a hand around to the button of Grays’ shorts, Gray upped the ante by cupping Cameron’s dick through his.

  “Oh yeah, that’s—”

  “Too many clothes,” Gray interrupted him. “You’ve still got your shirt on.”

  “Yeah, okay, clothes,” Cameron agreed. He’d forgotten about his own clothes because Gray was good to kiss and touch, but once Gray mentioned it, he could feel his T-shirt clinging to him. He should’ve turned on the air or the fan, but he hadn’t, and he wasn’t about to make Gray stop so he could go fool with the thermostat. They’d just have to get sweaty; it would be another good reason to shower together later.

  Gray helped Cameron out of his shirt in quick, efficient movements and got his shorts off the same way. He was back to kneeling on the mattress, arms folded across his chest, watching as Cameron wriggled out of his shorts and underpants.

  “Have a lie down.” Gray gestured with a nod. His gaze dropped to Cameron’s cock. “Let me help you with that.”

  Cameron thought about mentioning that Gray wasn’t completely undressed yet, but the way he filled out the thin black briefs was sexy as hell, and if Gray wanted to touch Cameron before finishing getting naked, Cameron wasn’t dumb enough to argue.

  He crawled over Cameron to kiss him some more, treating Cameron to the same exploratory kisses he’d gotten a few minutes before. He kissed down his chest, plucking experimentally at a nipple before discovering that nipping just above his belly button made Cameron arch and moan.

  “Ticklish?” Gray inquired, but Cameron shook his head as he clenched his fingers around handfuls of comforter.

  “Not quite, almost but like, in a good, good wa—oh!”

  Gray did it again, then scraped his teeth over that soft place before he kissed lower, following the trail of hair down. Cameron tried not to arch up again, not wanting to give Gray more than he could handle, but Gray was already ahead of him, holding Cameron’s hips as he mouthed wetly at the tip of Cameron’s dick.

  Cameron squirmed to get a pillow under his shoulders and his elbows back so he could have an angle to watch, because Gray was obviously trying to give him a show. He looked up at Cameron from under his lashes as he opened his mouth wider to take more of Cameron’s cock in, held his gaze as he sucked, finally looking away when he sank lower, swallowing around his shaft.

  Cameron bit his lip; it had been a while since he’d hooked up and longer since he’d been with anyone this enthusiastic. And hot. And someone he liked. That had been, well, never.

  Gray wasn’t shy and he wasn’t prim about giving head, getting Cameron’s cock wet, pausing to nuzzle and letting Cameron’s sticky cock rub against his cheek. He looked almost as good as he felt, which was fucking amazing. Cameron unclenched the bedding to slide his fingers in Gray’s hair. That got him an approving moan, and Gray sucked him harder and messier, until Cameron was panting, rolling his hips, and letting Gray take him as deep as he wanted. Gray didn’t stop when Cameron gasped that he was close, just kept going until he had Cameron crying out and shuddering, spilling down his throat.

  Cameron flopped back onto the bed like a scarecrow with his stuffing pulled out, patting clumsily at Gray’s hair. Gray was amazing. Gray was so good. Cameron liked Gray so much and Gray—Gray hadn’t come yet.

  “C’mere, let me take care of you.” Gray had gotten the better of him, getting Cameron off so good that he didn’t have the brain cells to give Gray everything he wanted and deserved, but he could at least return the favor.

  Gray knee-walked up his body, letting Cameron see he was still wearing the sexy black briefs, only now in addition to the considerable bulge, there was also a dark spot where Gray’s cock had been leaking while he’d been sucking Cameron off.

  “Like this?” Gray stopped with his thighs on either side of Cameron’s chest.

  “Close. Let me get you the rest of the way.” Cameron hooked his fingers in the waistband and tugged the briefs down, displaying Gray’s balls and his cock—long, just a little curved, and so wet at the tip that it made Cameron’s mouth water too.

  Gray tipped forward, his palms hitting the wall above the headboard with a soft thud. The movement brought him right where Cameron wanted him. The angle wasn’t great for taking him deep without choking, and this wasn’t a competition, thankfully, Cameron thought, but he could use his lips and tongue to make up for it. He kissed and licked, cupping Gray’s ass through his briefs, eliciting a moan when his fingers teased at the crease.

  “Cameron.” Gray clenched his eyes tight and bit his lips, obviously trying not to be too loud. Cameron really didn’t want him to bother. He licked a stripe along the underside of Gray’s cock as he slid a hand under the fabric, mouthed showily as he rubbed and stroked, getting his fingers lower so he could tease at Gray’s hole.

  “Cam,” Gray gasped out again. His body was drawing taut, his balls tight, and he was making little bitten-off moans as he got close. Cameron sucked hard at the head of Gray’s cock, pressed a fingertip against and just barely in, and Gray was coming, loud and messy and utterly perfect.

  “Fuck, so good.”

  Gray stretched out and rolled to the side, still half-hobbled by his underwear. His face was flushed, his hair sweaty. Cameron thought he looked beautiful. Cameron realized he himself probably looked worse for wear—he could feel the trickle of perspiration at his temples, and he was come-splattered and mussed—but Gray leaned over to kiss him anyway.

  “Very good,” Cameron agreed when Gray snuggled close. He wanted to sleep, but waking up sticky and starving was probably unwise. “Shower, and then I’ll make you the best dinner that I can.”

  The best dinner that he could was hot dogs on the grill, potato salad from the deli counter. While Cameron tended to the grill, Gray chopped up some onion and some of the herbs he’d bought, then shyly asked if Cameron minded if he added them to the potato salad.

  “You don’t even have to ask. My Stick Shack is your Stick Shack,” Cameron said.

  “No one likes a control freak in the kitchen, or on the patio.” Gray said it like someone who’d been accused of that very thing.

  “Nah, you’re just doing your thing.”

  “Yep, always was into everything. Poking at stuff in the store, rooting around in the kitchen. And now it’s a job, or it will be again soon. Being in the kitchen is always good. Like I don’t get excited about a whole lot of things, but when I do, I’m completely enamored. Does that make sense?”

  Cameron looked over his shoulder at Gray, who was suddenly very busy at peeling off the wrapper of his beer bottle. Cameron couldn’t tell if he was blushing, but he could guess.

  “Tons of sense. I think I know exactly how you feel.”

  Cameron pulled an old oscillating fan out of the trailer to blow the air while they ate, in hopes of keeping the early mosquitos away. They sat at the wooden picnic table on the patio, side by side, thighs touching. Cameron had pulled on the same khaki shorts and a clean tee, but Gray had pulled on a pair of baggy checked pants with a raggedy hand-cut hem and a singlet that had a Crystal Hot Sauce logo on it.

  “Chef casual,” Gray said when he caught Cameron looking. “The rest of these pants were involved in a tragic crème brûlée accident.”

  “You spilled dessert?”

  “I set them on fire,” Gray deadpanned.

  “Occupational hazard, I guess. Speaking of which, how goes the reception planning?”

  “Good, I think.” Gray gave him the updates and the latest iteration of the menu. The crew would serve gazpacho shooters and spicy shrimp cocktail shots, along with the signature cocktail. Cam looked enraptured when Gray told
him about the crostini station with savory and sweet toppings, the rolls, tarts, and sliders, and fruit and vegetable stations as well. “Depending on what I can source, obviously. A friend of a friend has a cafe in Charleston, and he’s set me up with a few people, so I should be good. A friend is coming in to do the pastry, so that’s covered. We may do a build and cook your own s’mores thing outside, but that might be over-the-top?”

  Cameron shook his head.

  Gray smiled. “The only thing I don’t have is a date.”

  “Hunh.” Cameron nudged their shoulders together. “Small town, slim pickings. You might get stuck with the next guy you see.”

  “God, I hope so.” Gray’s kiss tasted like relish and beer, but Cameron couldn’t bring himself to care.

  IN THE morning Gray rose early and made breakfast while Cameron slept. Gray couldn’t blame him; he’d been selfish in making Cameron do the work when they’d gone back to bed, not that Cameron had minded. He’d shouldered Gray’s legs, letting Gray lie back in bliss as he’d opened Gray up with his tongue, then fucked him long and slow while Gray jerked himself off at a leisurely pace until Cameron nearly had him in desperately turned-on tears.

  They were really good together in bed, as good as they were out of it. Cameron had a degree of chill that Gray hadn’t enjoyed with a partner before. He worked hard but had a balance in his life that Gray had envied in his friends lately. He’d been too intent on the restaurant and how he could plan a bigger and better one so he could move home with a splash, not a washed-out beat-up former athlete but a successful chef and restaurateur who could make his mark in the Lowcountry scene. He thought he needed that, but now he wasn’t so sure. Gray didn’t want a special life, he wanted a good one—but that didn’t mean giving up on his dreams, just letting his dreams evolve into a path he hadn’t considered. And it already seemed like Cameron could be a big part of that.

  While Cameron snoozed, Gray got out some of the groceries he’d kept in the bags, forbidding Cameron to look. He’d had the feeling he was going to be in the mood to make a special breakfast, and he’d definitely been right.