by Ariel Tachna
Making sure the embers were contained enough that they wouldn’t blow sparks, Brett kicked off his boots and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He stripped down to his briefs and started for the lake. “Coming?”
Gerald swallowed and wasted several seconds staring at the firm ass walking away. “Uh- huh,” he grunted before shaking himself and getting undressed. He followed Brett out to the edge of the cove, forcing himself not to ogle. But he wanted to. Damn, he wanted to.
Brett waded into the water to the waist, turning to watch Gerald walking into the water after him, his tight boxer briefs allowing Brett to see the outline of a sizable package in the moonlight. Oh, fuck, he wanted to have the right to reach out and touch. To distract himself, Brett turned away and swam out deeper into the lake, his long, steady strokes taking him away from temptation.
The water was warm, just as Brett said. But being wet with the breeze blowing sent goose bumps over Gerald’s skin, and he could feel his nipples tighten. Clearing his throat slightly, he walked farther into the water until he could submerge up to the neck. He started swimming out to the other man. It was light enough to see in the shadows, but not so much that details of a body would be clear in the water.
Diving beneath the ropes he used to mark the safe area for the kids, Brett kept going a little further, treading water as he turned back to wait for Gerald. Just as he’d warned the kids, the bottom fell sharply there, making it impossible to stand, but not so deep that an adult couldn’t touch bottom. “So how much farther do you want to go?” he asked when Gerald joined him.
“I’m a good swimmer,” Gerald said, peering across the dark water at the other man. “Do you come out here often?”
“Sometimes here, sometimes the actual cove,” Brett replied, “but that’s too far to swim from here. I’ve canoed it a few times, though.”
“So it’s a pretty big body of water,” Gerald concluded, moving closer in the water.
“About forty acres, I think,” Brett said, “although that might have changed a little since the original surveys were done.”
“And all untouched woodland. It’s a treasure, especially in this day and age,” Gerald said, shifting to let himself float. His torso and belly crested the water to bob on the surface.
“That’s just the lake. The farm itself is even bigger. My parents used to joke about being able to sell it for a fortune if they weren’t worried about being haunted by the family.” Brett laughed, keeping his hands moving steadily to resist the temptation to touch the golden skin that glowed softly in moonlight.
Gerald smiled and tipped his head. “It’s so quiet. You’d think you’d hear the city.”
Brett shook his head. “Not here. Maybe up at the stables, but we’re pretty much in the heart of the farm right now. We get the light pollution still, but not much in the way of noise.”
“Not even much light,” Gerald said, looking up at the trees that sheltered the water. “Except for the moon.” He flopped over onto his belly to swim a few strokes away into a pool of light, where he turned back over to float again. “Although I’m not sure if this helps me see or not.”
It helped Brett see. All too well. Floating as he was, Gerald’s groin just broke the surface, the wet cloth doing nothing to hide the shape of what it covered. Brett couldn’t decide if the other man was half-hard or seriously well-endowed. Either way, it did nothing for his equilibrium. “You’d notice the light pollution without the moon,” he said hoarsely. “You can see the big constellations, but not the fainter stars.”
Gerald looked up at the stars, wetting his hair as he let the water buoy him up. “I can sometimes make out constellations at the house. Orion, usually. Cassiopeia. Sometimes the Big Dipper.” He let the water relax him and sighed happily.
“You’ll see more than that out here. The Pleiades, Ursa Major and Minor, Scorpius.” Brett chuckled. “Can you tell I was fascinated by astronomy when I was a kid?”
“If you lived here, I can understand why,” Gerald said before righting himself so he could look at Brett. “You should come out here more often, if you enjoy it so much. You work all the time, seems like.”
“The summer’s the worst because I’ve got parents trying to figure out what to do with their kids all day, so they stash them out here. Once school starts back up, my days are a lot lighter, and I’ll have more time for myself.”
“So another month or so,” Gerald translated, since this weekend was the Fourth of July.
“Yes. Six weeks at the most, depending on when the different schools start,” Brett said. “Of course, then it’ll be time to start getting everything ready for winter, but even with that, I’ll have more free time.”
Gerald smiled. “It never ends,” he said, echoing Brett’s sentiment from a few months ago when he started spending more time at the farm. “But you love it.” Gerald ran his hands through his hair, before letting himself slide under the water to soak it all and get rid of some of the dirt and sweat he’d accumulated the whole day.
“I do,” Brett replied honestly. Seeing Gerald rubbing at his head made Brett realize how sweaty he still felt, even with the swim. Sinking beneath the surface, he wet his head completely, giving it a shake as he resurfaced. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
Gerald watched Brett rise from the water and had to swallow. He was already rubbing himself under the water, trying to relieve a little of the tension. With a sigh, he let off, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Maybe Brett wouldn’t notice. He had a boyfriend, after all, a pretty one too, so why would Brett look at him?
As close as they were in the water, Brett hoped Gerald wouldn’t notice the erection tenting his briefs. He ought to be ashamed of himself, perving over Gerald when he’d all but sent Robbie away. He sighed. “Ready to head back?” he asked.
“Sure,” Gerald answered, stretching out his arms to start the swim back to shore, both happy and disappointed to have something else to focus on besides Brett. And Brett’s body.
Brett followed behind, taking one last opportunity to ogle Gerald’s backside as it flashed above the water occasionally as he kicked. As they reached the shallows and Gerald stood to walk the rest of the way out, Brett bit back a groan, hoping Gerald wouldn’t look back and see that Brett had popped a woody.
Shaking himself to get off the worst of the water, Brett walked straight to his discarded clothes, using his T-shirt to dry his legs before he slipped off his briefs and pulled up his jeans, the thicker fabric forcing his cock into uneasy submission.
Gerald deliberately didn’t look back. While he wasn’t erect, his body was certainly interested in the sight that he shouldn’t be seeing. He laughed at himself silently for that thought. Gerald trudged out of the water, letting it stream off him, very aware of how his soaked briefs clung to him.
Before he could even stop himself, Gerald’s eyes slid to the side and he saw Brett push off his wet briefs, revealing quite a healthy erection that made Gerald’s mouth go dry. Snapping his chin around quickly to not be caught looking, he slid his fingers under his own briefs and dragged them down his legs.
As dressed as he could get with soaked briefs and a damp T-shirt, Brett turned around to see if Gerald was ready to head back, only to get a view of the other man’s bare ass. He bit his lip as his mouth watered and his knees threatened to buckle. Damn, Gerald was a good-looking man! He forced himself to turn away and head toward Zach, hoping Gerald would follow of his own accord. He had no idea how he’d be able to sleep tonight knowing that ass was in his guest bed.
Jerking up his jeans and fastening them, Gerald figured he wouldn’t be too uncomfortable on the ride back. He grabbed his wet briefs and wrung them out before stuffing them in his back pocket as he walked over to Misfit.
“Ready to hit the sack?” Brett asked lightly, cursing himself as soon as the words left his mouth. The image of the two of them entwined in bed was far too intimate for comfort, especially in the saddle.
Gerald got up on Misfit b
efore yawning. “It’s been a long day,” he agreed. “Thanks for letting me stay. A drive would be a pain right now.”
“You’re always welcome,” Brett offered automatically. “If you’re here late, that is, or whatever.”
“Or whatever?” Gerald asked mildly, his voice tinged with amusement.
“Or you have an early lesson, or… whatever,” Brett said lamely, trying to cover his embarrassment. “It’s there if you need it.”
Gerald smiled as they got the horses moving. “Okay,” he said. And he watched Brett sway in the saddle all the way back to the barn, trying to not shift too much in his own damp jeans.
When they got back, Brett settled Zach as quickly as he could, then helped Gerald finish up with Misfit. “You remember where the shower is, right?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Gerald headed over to the car and popped the trunk, pulling out his duffel bag of extra clothes before joining Brett on the porch. He’d started keeping one handy, given how dirty he tended to get working at the farm.
“If you need anything, just let me know,” Brett offered, starting toward the kitchen and the back stairs to his bedroom.
Once alone in his room, Brett stripped down and walked into the connecting bathroom, hearing the water start in the bathroom below. He groaned at the thought of Gerald naked downstairs, washing away the sweat and dirt from the day, skin glistening with droplets of water as he bathed. “Fuck,” he muttered, turning on the taps and stepping beneath the burst of cold water. It did nothing to diminish his erection since the water heated too quickly to be a true cold shower.
Squirting shampoo into his palm, Brett lathered his hair quickly. He tried to ignore the desire to jerk off, but he was pretty sure that was a lost cause. Tilting his head back to rinse the suds away, Brett caught a few of them in his hand and wrapped it around his aching cock.
It took an embarrassingly small number of strokes before he came hard, the creamy strands mixing with the suds and water to disappear down the drain. With a muttered curse, he finished washing, dried off, and pulled on a pair of cut-off sweats and a T-shirt. His conscience demanded he go check on his guest. His libido agreed wholeheartedly.
Gerald had shut the door behind him in the bathroom before muttering, “Guess I can’t ask for a helping hand.” He sighed and started wriggling out of the jeans sticking to his clammy skin. A shower was going to feel good. He stood under the hot water, letting it sluice away the last of the grime and sweat. He had one hand braced on the wall as he soaked his hair; the other hand moved the bar of soap across his chest slowly. Thoughts of the man upstairs preoccupied him.
Gerald wondered why Robbie hadn’t stayed. Brett sure hadn’t been happy about it. Humming slightly in thought, Gerald stayed distracted as the steam built up in the room around him. Finally dragging himself out of the shower, Gerald got dressed in the shorts and T-shirt he’d had in the duffel even though he was still damp, and he opened the door, stepping out while still drying his hair.
“Need anything else?” Brett asked, trying to bite back the groan at the sight of a wet, tousled Gerald emerging from the bathroom. “The bedroom’s right across the hall, and the kitchen’s back through there. Feel free to raid the fridge during the night.”
Gerald stopped still, blinking at the other man. Brett was flushed and damp. He looked relaxed, much more so than before. Gerald wondered if it was from the hot shower or… something else. He swallowed hard and lowered the towel to hold it strategically in front of himself. “Ah, thanks,” he said weakly as he saw visions of Brett in the lake with that smile.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll head back upstairs,” Brett said. His voice was a little hoarse. “Dawn comes early.”
Brett climbed the steps slowly, wishing he could’ve come up with an excuse to linger downstairs a little longer, enjoying the smell of his shampoo wafting off Gerald’s warm body, but his mind had gone completely blank. Short of propositioning the man, he had no idea what else to say.
Gerald watched raptly as Brett turned and climbed the stairs. He just couldn’t pull his eyes away from that ass. Abruptly he turned and fled into the guest room, pushing the door closed behind him. He dropped the towel where he stood as he let his eyes get used to the darkened room. Some moonlight came in the window, so it didn’t take much, and as he stepped toward the bed he didn’t notice the door slide back open partway.
Climbing onto the quilt, Gerald flopped and rolled to his back. He wasn’t seeing the dark ceiling; he was seeing Brett standing there on the stairs. Looking touchable. Looking fuckable. Looking like he’d just gotten off, and oh my God, had Brett done that in the shower upstairs while he’d been showering downstairs? Gerald groaned and slid his hand into his shorts.
He curled his palm around his cock, sighing as he tightened his fingers around it. He was so turned on. Something about Brett upstairs jacking off while he was in the house made him hot and bothered. Groaning again, Gerald lifted his hips up against his fist, and his eyes fell shut.
His breathing picked up as he used both hands to play with himself, doing everything that felt good. He needed to come. He’d not done it for a couple days, and now he needed it. Really needed it. Without thinking, Gerald visualized himself in the shower, working his cock as the water rained down. When he opened his eyes, Brett stood in the shower in front of him, mirroring his movements, both their cocks hard and red. Gerald’s moan was long and low as he licked his lips.
Brett was stripping off upstairs when he heard a sound he was pretty sure he’d never forget. That moan couldn’t be anything but a sound of pleasure. Oh, fuck! Gerald was downstairs getting himself off in Brett’s guest bed. Tomorrow, when he went to change the sheets, they’d smell not just like Gerald, but like Gerald’s come. Brett thought he might never wash them. The smell alone would be fantasy material for a month.
With a sudden guilty pang, he remembered Robbie. He couldn’t fantasize about one man when he was seeing another. It wasn’t right. When another stifled groan filtered up to him, Brett almost whimpered in sympathy.
Oblivious to being overheard, Gerald licked his palm and pulled on his cock harder, the muscles in his legs tense as he fucked his fist. Now it was just about getting there, about coming, and the vision of the shower dissipated as Gerald bit his lip on a choked gasp as he climaxed in several short spurts, panting heavily each time before letting out a shaky groan and sigh.
Trying to control his breathing, Gerald turned to his side and curled up, knowing he needed to get the towel and clean up before he messed up the sheets. But it could wait. A minute or two. He yawned. He’d get it in just a minute. With a sigh he fell into a doze.
GERALD padded out into the house proper, following the sounds and smells to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and rubbed his eyes.
“Hungry?” Brett asked, looking up at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. “Pancakes’ll be done soon, and there’s coffee in the pot if you want some.”
“Mmm. Coffee,” Gerald said with a yawn. “What time is it?”
Brett shrugged. “Dawn. The horses don’t understand the idea of a clock. They just know when the sun comes up.”
“You do too, huh?” Gerald said, sitting down with a mug and blinking blearily.
“Not a lot of choice in the matter,” Brett replied. “Either I do it, or they start doing damage. I’d rather get up early.”
Gerald frowned. “Damage? Like what?”
“They start kicking at the stall doors or the fence lines,” Brett explained. “Shah actually broke one down about eight months ago. I overslept, not back in the routine of the farm yet, and he made his disapproval most clear.”
Both Gerald’s brows flew up. “Wow. I get cranky in the mornings without coffee, but nothing like that.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what I get for keeping a stallion around, but he pays for the disruptions in stud fees,” Brett replied.
“That’s not disruption; that’s property damage. Be sure to incl
ude that in your taxes as facility upkeep.”
“Really?” Brett asked, surprised. “I’ve never thought about that before.”
“Expense of conducting business,” Gerald said with a shrug before taking another drink of coffee. “Doesn’t your accountant tell you these things?”
“What accountant?” Brett asked.
Gerald stared at him, utterly appalled. “You don’t have an accountant?” he asked as his coffee cup thumped to the table, and the liquid sloshed a little over the rim.
“No, I keep the books. Income, expenses, it’s not that hard,” Brett said.
It was a long moment before Gerald shook himself. “Did your par—?” He cut himself off. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Brett answered anyway. “As far as I know, all the records are in the office through there, although they did tell me copies of the year-end reports were all in a safe deposit box too, just in case anything ever happened here at the house.”
Gerald had a seriously pained look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it right back. “Okay,” he murmured.
“What?” Brett asked. “Is something the matter?”
“It’s just… how much are you missing in deductions?” Gerald blurted. “What about quarterly filing to reduce your tax burden? Investment in facilities and maintenance? Chargebacks against gross income….”
“Whoa!” Brett cried. “Over my head! Is all that stuff really necessary?”
“Yes!” Gerald retorted. “If your output exceeds input, you technically aren’t making money so you’d get tax money back!”
“Fine,” Brett said with a huff. “What do you charge?”
“Charge?” Gerald asked blankly. “Keeping a charge account can be a good way to track monthly expenses so you can project figures ahead a year.”
“No,” Brett groaned, rolling his eyes. “How much do you charge to handle someone’s books? If you’re really going to make me deal with all this stuff, you’re going to do it for me. I don’t know any other accountants, and I don’t want to let a stranger handle this.”