D.V. Patton - Fire and Rain

by D. V. Patton

  “I was going to ask you if you would like to join me for a meal,” he said, amiably enough. The way he was addressed led Chris to believe that this man was used to being obeyed.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “That a yes or a no?” “Ah,” said Chris, a light smile playing on his lips. “I’m—” he almost said attached, but stopped himself, “all manned out right now.”

  “All manned out,” said the stranger. “I haven’t heard that one before. Especially not in Torres,” he added ruefully. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

  “Chris,” he replied. Peter waited to be offered a seat and Chris finally acquiesced.

  “I’d say business is tough over here,” said Peter. “Not this one,” Chris said automatically, instantly realizing that sounded bad.

  As if in confirmation, the man looked at him a little askew. ”It’s not mine,” Chris added. “The business, I mean. I’m just helping a friend out.”

  Peter smiled. “A working holiday.” “Exactly,” said Chris, finding the situation a little bit odd. Truth be told, he was slightly enamored with the thought of a probably wealthy man hitting on him. His ego had taken enough knocks in the last year. “What do you do?”

  “I hold the license for a well-known coffee house back in Ireland.” “Really?” said Chris surprised. “I ran a coffee and tea import business back in London—emphasis on the past tense.”

  “Ah, it didn’t work out?” “Horrendous rent, or at least that’s what I tell people. Shame I didn’t meet you last year.”

  “Indeed, maybe you wouldn’t have been manned out,” said Peter. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to join me for lunch?”

  “Thank you, maybe another time,” said Chris. Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card.

  “If you’re ever in Dublin and want someone to show you around, give me a call. Or, less exciting, if you ever feel like getting back into the business, I’m always looking for good people.”

  “Thank you,” said Chris thoughtfully, “I might take you up on that.”

  Chapter Sixteen Chris said his goodbyes to his coffee companion, after finding himself promising to ring the man the next time he was in Dublin. Chris’ sister had moved to Ireland the year before, and he hadn’t visited yet.

  Chris sat looking at the laptop screen, a blank expression on his face. It was past three, and the shop would stay closed for the traditional siesta between half one and five.

  All was quiet from above, and he figured Ciaran would sleep most of the afternoon through. Chris toyed with the idea of going out to get something to eat, or hitting the beach for an hour, but he found his mind preoccupied with his squatter.

  Ciaran had his own apartment on the edge of Torres, a place Chris hadn’t seen, but he didn’t doubt it was of a far finer standard than this meager abode. Yet not for the first time he was lying upstairs. It was like he came here to crash during the day.

  Chris walked to the shop door, flicked the lock, and killed the lights. He went upstairs.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The apartment was airily bright, and the wind blew off the Mediterranean in a cooling dry wave. It really was a nice day for the beach, thought Chris, but his mind was preoccupied. Ciaran was nowhere to be seen, so he glanced into the bedroom, and sure enough, the guy was crashed on his bed. This was getting a little bit strange.

  Ciaran had this instant likeability, but it was a little weird that he was here a lot now, especially after what had happened. Did he want to do it again? Chris thought on it. Do I?

  An involuntary grin spread onto Chris’ face. Who was he kidding? He jerked off thinking about Ciaran all the time.

  Chris went to the kitchen and began preparing an English breakfast. It was a devil getting the right ingredients, but luckily for him, there was a shop off Casa that sold a lot of the ingredients from Blighty. Heinz Ketchup—his mouth watered at the imagined taste. Sausages were different here, but the Catalan variety was a welcome surprise. Chris felt his stomach growl as he worked through the minutiae of preparing the great English Breakfast, a mythical beast —

  He looked up and found Ciaran staring into the kitchen at him. He nearly jumped—the guy moved like a ninja when he wanted. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?”

  Ciaran nodded his head in confirmation. If he felt things hadn’t felt awkward between them, the sight of Ciaran standing in the doorway dressed only in a pair of crisp white shorts confirmed it. He was very lithe, slim as a surfer and smooth from head to toe, except for a puff of dirty blond hair under his armpits. He balanced himself in the doorframe and stretched with his arms above his head. Chris saw the outline in his shorts. He knew he was staring at Ciaran’s crotch, and it took a surprising amount of effort to look away.

  “You off to Barca tonight?” he asked, all the time staring at every other part of that body. Ciaran’s abdomen stretched as he twisted in the doorframe. Chris found himself sweating again.

  “Sure,” said Ciaran, “come if you want.”

  “Ah, I don’t speak much Spanish—it would be awkward with your friends.” “I’m going to the Camp Nou,” he replied, indicating Barcelona FC’s home ground.

  “Football? Well…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll look after you, big fella.”

  Chris was chuffed, actually.

  “The smell of food woke me up. You do that deliberately?”

  “What? No…Just an old habit.”

  “For when a guy stayed over?” “Not just any guy,” said Chris, before realizing what he said could sound ambiguous.

  “Chris—” “No offence Cee, but don’t flatter yourself” he said. It seemed to be the right thing to say. Ciaran visibly relaxed, and any threatened tension was gone from them. Chris was finding it very hard to stop staring at Ciaran’s body. Surely it was obvious by now.

  “You always know what to say—I wish had some of that confidence,” said Ciaran thoughtfully.

  “You’re kidding, right?” “No…no, I’m not. You can put things…at ease.”

  His stomach rumbled audibly, and Chris smiled. “It’ll be ready soon.”

  “You used to make this for someone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Back in England?”

  “You’re a nosy fucker, aren’t you?”

  “You don’t have to say. I didn’t realize it was a thing.” “Oh it doesn’t matter. I had a feeling you’d appreciate the gesture. I just love making food—there’s something very honest about it.”

  “Heavy food in this kind of heat…it’s only the tourists eat that stuff.”

  “You obviously don’t, with a body like that!” said Chris without thinking.

  “Do you want me to put a shirt on?” “No,” said Chris quickly, before changing the topic back. “Sometimes I get homesick.”

  “After six weeks!” mocked Ciaran.

  “I’ve been gone from home a lot longer than that,” said Chris, surprising himself. “I suppose you want to talk about… it.”

  Chris shook his head. “Do you?”

  “I suppose you’ve done that with lots of guys.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “No…I mean…I haven’t.” “I guessed as much,” said Chris but for a second, he got a glance of some fleeting emotion on Ciaran’s face. “It’s not a big deal, honestly.” Chris instinctively reached across and brushed his hand.

  Ciaran seemed uncomfortable with that, but in fairness, he didn’t draw away.

  “Eat your food, babe,” said Chris softly. He sensed a subtle change in how Ciaran was looking at him. His words might say one thing, but his eyes said another.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Can I use the shower?” asked Ciaran after they ate. “I smell.”

  “Of course,” said Chris. “You don’t have to ask.”

  Their eyes met across the table. “I don’t?”

  Without missing a breath, Chris asked. “You want me to come with?” Ciaran didn’t speak. Instead he sat on the couch oppos
ite him and began to remove his socks. He pulled his shorts down to his knees and kicked them off. Chris watched every action, every inch of bare skin. Ciaran had beautiful nipples, a sailboard flat stomach. As his shorts were drawn down, his half erect cock was finally revealed to the light. It was pale compared to the rest of him, and thicker than Chris had thought. He had the same soft downy hair that Chris had glanced under his armpits.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  A pair of piercing blue eyes looked at him. “You think? I know I’m too skinny.” Chris thought the moment might pass, but Ciaran spoke again. “Will you suck my cock?”

  He didn’t hesitate. In two footsteps, he was kneeling between those lithe legs. One lick of his tongue, running along the length of Ciaran’s shaft, drove the member to its full six inches. It lay tight against Ciaran’s belly button. It was the first time he had seen him in the light. The down of peppery pubic hair that ringed him seemed to glisten with moisture.

  Chris pulled off his own shirt, then roughly kicked off his shorts. His own cock stood out from his own patch of neatly clipped and groomed pubic hair. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was Ciaran, but again his penis throbbed almost painfully.

  “Wow,” said Ciaran. Chris kneeled between the man’s legs and enveloped his cock with ease. He slicked up the shaft and began to tense his neck muscles as his mouth slid up and down the cock. He felt its shape with his mouth, the throbbing veins. Chris tasted the salty precum. He glanced up and saw the young man had closed his eyes. He looked like he was in ecstasy—his whole body seemed to be shaking slightly.

  Chris slid the cock down his throat, and Ciaran panted audibly. He slid back up the shaft trying to delay the orgasm. Instead his tongue went to work, licking the man’s cock. He slipped Ciaran’s balls into his mouth and gently kneaded them with his tongue.

  Releasing them, he slid his own cock down the ridge between Ciaran’s buttocks, and reached his asshole. It took an amazing amount of willpower not to slide his own cock against that sweaty moist hole, but instead he squatted, balancing delicately on the balls of his feet, until his face was mere inches from the source of his lust. His tongue gently caressed that manhole instead, and the soft pinky ridges tensed and released with desire.

  He felt Ciaran’s hands gently touch his face, drawing him back to his cock. It, too, shook gently, his bulbous head felt red hot. Chris could sense he was close, but he had one last trick to play.

  He enveloped Ciaran’s cock and slid down the full length of his shaft, ignoring the gagging feeling as his trapped toy disappeared deep in his throat. Ciaran’s hands clamped him in place, in perfect position. He gently slipped one of Ciaran’s calves onto his shoulder, exposing his hole. Chris pressed his index finger against Ciaran’s asshole, and then pushed deeper and deeper into that fleshy darkness.

  Ciaran cried out. Resistance suddenly failed and as the muscles inside Ciaran’s ass relaxed, his finger disappeared up to the knuckle. Chris’ mouth filled with semen. There was a torrent, so much that some of the seed caused him to gag reflexively as his mouth filled with cum.

  He placed his knee either side of Ciaran’s midriff and massaged his shaft. It didn’t take long for him to climax. His cum covered Ciaran’s face in three distinctive pearl-colored paths. He wondered if he’d gone too far, but Ciaran’s tongue shyly licked the cum. Those blue eyes stared at him. “Now there’s some of you in me, too,” said Ciaran. Chapter Nineteen

  Chris was very uncomfortable driving in Spain, but seeing as Ciaran had no driver’s license, he had no choice but to brave the left-hand-drive cars. As it turned out, he got used to it quite quickly. Sharp turns were a little bit of a problem and he tended to overcompensate, and he suffered minor perception problems when faced with a myriad of interconnections and freeways. At least they were not going too far.

  August had started and already the temperature was rising accordingly. They had rented a convertible and were driving down the coast with the hood down, a luxury barely afforded back in the UK. The skies above were completely blue, with not a fluffy white cloud in sight.

  “Take a turn here,” said Ciaran squeezing his arm. Chris nodded, and began to bank right.

  “Is it far?”

  “No, we just to keep an eye out…and there you go.” Chris had to bank suddenly left, and got a blare of a horn from a car he hadn’t seen come up behind them. He lifted his hand sheepishly, but gently accelerated down the dirt road that led to the ocean. “Have you been here before?” he asked.

  Ciaran just shrugged. “Maybe,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hopefully it won’t be too busy!”

  The suspension in the car began to rattle as the dirt road became steadily rougher. A plume of dust rose up behind them, and Chris began to fear the lowriding car getting wedged somewhere and bringing an abrupt halt to their day out.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Ciaran, but before Chris could answer, the view of the Mediterranean took his breath away, a perfectly blue and serene oasis. It was amazing how you could smell the ocean before you saw it.

  They were further from the towns, out in the wilder countryside. The blue water ran up to ice-white sand. Chris parked the car on the land’s end that overlooked the beach. “Is this where you wanted to go?” asked Chris, alternating his gaze between the beach and his companion.

  “Kind of,” he replied absently. “Come on.” They headed down a rough rock path onto the beach, and as soon as Chris’ feet hit the sand, they began to burn. He smiled stoically and followed Ciaran onto the beach. Ciaran had already pulled off his t-shirt, allowing the sun to kiss his deeply tanned back. “Have to build up the color before I go back to rainy old Dublin!”

  Chris was noncommittal in his response. He set up the umbrella to keep the worst of the sun from his skin, but the sun seemed to have no effect on his fairhaired companion. Ciaran stripped down to his Speedos, and from the safety of his sunglasses, Chris admired the man’s physique. Lean, tanned and muscular… everything Chris craved in a man. He was forced to admit to himself that Ciaran was so perfect in so many ways.

  “What are you staring at?”

  “How do you know I’m staring?” “Your head isn’t moving!” said Ciaran, and Chris had to laugh, his treacherous intentions revealed.

  “You feel adventurous?” Something in his expression must have given him away, because Ciaran threw a runner at him. “C’mon, let’s go swimming.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Chris had to change shorts, and he didn’t bother using a towel, giving Ciaran a quick flash, but his companion seemed elsewhere today. The beach was nearly empty, but not quite. There were a couple of families about halfway down the beach, so Chris’ ideas of making love as the waves washed over them would stay as a fantasy. Ciaran bounded down the beach and dived into the water. It was if he were an Olympic athlete. He just looked perfect at everything he did, thought Chris a little jealously. He followed on, sighing a little as the water reached his balls. Then he was under the water and swimming to his friend.

  “Nice, eh!” called out Ciaran, as he floated just out of reach.

  “You wouldn’t get it at home!” admitted Chris. “You see those rocks? Let’s swim around them!” said Ciaran. A big grin was plastered around his face. Chris glanced back to the shore, noticing simultaneously that there was no lifeguard, and all their possessions were unguarded. He heard his name being called in that infectious voice, and his resistance faded. With two powerful strokes, he caught the Irishman, and together they swam around the apex of the rocks and away from the beach.

  Instead of another beach, Chris realized that the rocks continued. The sea was calm, but Chris wouldn’t have liked to be caught here in choppy seas. Suddenly Ciaran swam towards the rocks, and managed to pull himself up on a ledge. When Chris swam closer, he saw it was actually what looked like steps cut into the rock itself.

  Ciaran pulled him from the water. “C’mon,” he said. Chris followed him up the steps, and when he looked
up he saw an old abandoned lighthouse. Ciaran led him past that, before suddenly turning and disappearing into the rock face. Chris realized there was a cave complex here. He could hear the thunder of trapped water. He stepped into the cave, his eyes widening in childlike glee.

  The cave was opened from above, allowing sunlight to penetrate it. A small waterfall poured from the roof of the cavity, a steady flow of fresh water into the underground lake. The cave was cool and refreshing, a sudden break from the Iberian sun. “It’s beautiful, Ciaran. How did you find it?”

  “I’m interested in this kind of stuff,” he said, his voice echoing off the walls. “The locals thought this water had healing powers.”

  He looked at Chris shyly, as if wondering if he’d be mocked, but Chris watched him silently. “You want to get in and see?”

  Ciaran removed his shorts and jumped in. The sound of a rock plunging through the water filled the cavern.

  Chris watched him go, watched how his buttocks clenched and released as he ran, how the muscles of his smooth back rippled as he slipped beneath the water. He really was a Gladiator among men.

  Chris slid in more gracefully and yelped as the lukewarm water immersed him.

  They floated opposite each other in the water but Chris finally trapped his companion, pulling him close. He kissed Ciaran before he knew what was happening, and the man’s light lips opened almost grudgingly. It was the first time they had kissed, but once the bridge had been breached, Ciaran seemed to give himself willingly. He wrapped his arms around Chris, and they floated in the water, staring at each other, neither man speaking.

  He felt Ciaran wrap his thighs around him, in a parody of lovemaking, but there was nothing sexual about this. Chris held each bum cheek in his hand, and looked deep into Ciaran’s eyes, and the man held his gaze. There was something else stirring between them, and both men sensed it in that moment.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Come to Dublin with me, Chris.” Chris spat out water, suddenly realizing how serious Ciaran had become. “You know I can’t.”