by I. M. Flippy
The bed was neatly made, only slightly rumpled from all their activity.
“Here you go.” Jason came back and handed Charlie a mug of wine. He took a grateful swallow watching his new lover sit down beside him.
Charlie cleared his throat and said, “Can I see your phone?”
“My phone?” Jason took a long drink of wine from his mug, and one errant drop slid down his throat.
I’ll pretend to be casual, Charlie thought. I’ll be his fling if he wants it.
Jason had caught a kid-killing serial murderer after all, and his reward was a gunshot wound. He deserved a fling. Charlie could play the part. It would be fun before it hurt at least.
Charlie leaned over and licked the wine from Jason’s throat, sealing the gesture with a kiss. He bit him gently and murmured, “Let me see your phone.” He set his wine on the nightstand.
Jason nodded warily. “All right…” He leaned over and found his shorts on the floor, digging his phone out of his pocket.
“Well, unlock it,” Charlie said, feeling impish.
“I’m very suspicious,” Jason said, but he didn’t look it. He unlocked the phone and handed it over. Charlie took it gleefully, quickly bringing up the camera.
He tried to ignore Jason’s presence, and lay back in the bed again, raising the camera above him and taking a quick picture as he gazed into the phone’s lens.
Now Jason had what Charlie hoped was a sexy picture of him. He tossed the phone back to Jason and grabbed his wine again, draining half the mug.
Jason took his phone back and looked at the picture. He chuckled in that deep, sexy way of his and set the phone aside. “You’re full of it, you know,” he said. “Wear those cardigans and act like some innocent guy selling boxes covered in seashells. You’re a minx.”
“A minx!” Charlie laughed. “I don’t know about that.”
“You are,” Jason said, and set his wine down beside the phone. He leaned over and kissed Charlie with great determination and Charlie chased the kiss, wishing the world didn’t even exist outside the boat. “You’re a vixen,” Jason whispered. “Or whatever the guy version of a vixen is.”
“Fuck boy,” Charlie said.
Jason blurted a laugh and started working his way down Charlie’s neck with his lips and tongue, making him pant.
“Whatever you call it,” Jason said. “I like it.”
Charlie spent a couple more hours on Jason’s boat and it seemed like Jason would have been happy to let him stay all night. He offered to make dinner and talked about barbecue as if they were a couple who...barbecued. That was too much for something meant to be “casual.” A barbecue meant that Jason might wear an adorable apron. He would probably wave a spatula and talk about how to barbecue properly as smoke billowed from the deck. They would eat burgers and drink wine and talk about anything and everything in that easy way they had before fucking again, and Charlie would pretend it could always be like that.
Charlie both wanted and feared it. So instead he made excuses. He’d promised to have dinner with a friend later. Oops. He had to get home and shower and wear something other than trunks.
“Oh, okay,” Jason said. His mouth was a deep red from the wine, his cornflower blue eyes a little mournful. Charlie wanted nothing more than to drag him back to bed. “No problem.”
This time Jason gave him a ride back to the dock and chatted the whole way, and when Charlie reflexively leaned in for a goodbye kiss, Jason kissed him back.
Charlie liked to think it was notable that Jason wasn’t self-conscious about kissing him in public. But then, Jason really didn’t know anyone on the island.
Jason waved goodbye as he sped away on his dinghy and he kept his eyes on Charlie the whole time, as if everything was just peachy and... casual.
“Oh man,” Charlie said to himself. “I really fucked up.”
He did not expect good old Andy to come wheeling over on his pedi-cab, stopping right beside Charlie on the dock. Andy glanced at Charlie and looked out on the water and, seeing Jason speeding away, he cackled. “Oh, shitballs. He fucked you, didn’t he?”
Charlie turned to Andy on his bike and glared. “Yeah, all right. We fucked. And it was magic. And he just wants something casual which I very willingly offered because... because Jesus, he’s so goddamn cute! He caught the goddamn Flower Man killer, that was him! He got shot catching a famous serial killer and now he’s writing a book about it, and he still makes it sound like it was no big thing which makes it even sexier!” He clapped his hands to his cheeks. To his credit, Andy seemed sympathetic. “I’m so into him it’s fucking ridiculous! We’re gonna fuck for a while and then what? He’ll probably go back to his ex-wife! I’m so totally screwed!”
“He caught the Flower Man? Holy shit. You should probably end this right now,” Andy said, in that voice that meant he knew it wouldn’t happen.
Charlie furrowed his brow and emitted a series of puppy-like whimpers.
“Wow, it must have been really good." Andy raised his eyebrows. “Really? Had he been with a guy before? It didn’t seem like it.”
“No. I mean… I did all the work, but still.” Charlie sighed. “I very much enjoyed doing all the work.”
“He must have a great cock.”
“Fantastic cock.”
“All right, dumbass,” Andy said, sighing. He honked his bike horn. “Hop in. I’ll give ya a ride home and we’ll get burgers. I want details.”
Charlie perked up at that and he hopped into the pedi-cab. It had been a long time since he was excited about giving Andy the details on a guy. He shut his eyes as the sun beat down and Andy started pedaling up the dock to Crescent Avenue.
His ass was sore in just the right way and if he concentrated, he could hear the rumble of Jason’s deep voice in his ear.
11
Jason
Jason tied up the dinghy. He stumbled into his kitchen and, robot-like, he went about making dinner. He would have liked to grill up steaks for Charlie, but he couldn’t go taking up all the guy’s time, acting like some pathetic lovesick puppy. Even thinking the word “lovesick” made him drop his grilling fork.
Lovesick…
He snorted and shook his head as he grabbed the steaks from the fridge. He’d bought the meat on a whim and he had to use it while it was still good. He brought his little Hibachi out to the deck and stared at it for a minute, blinking at it dumbly. He took out his phone and paused again, chewing on his lip, before bringing up Charlie’s picture.
Jason sighed and sat on the little loveseat, crossing his ankles in front of him. Just looking at the picture nearly got him hard again. There was Charlie, naked as a jaybird and lying back in the bed, a light sheen of sweat decorating his perfect body. He was smirking slightly into the camera like he knew exactly how much the picture would turn Jason on.
He was right.
Jason pocketed the phone again and wondered how soon he could lure Charlie back to the boat. Probably soon. And in the meantime, Jason was alone with his thoughts and his books. He growled under his breath and went about grilling.
“I fucked a guy,” Jason said out loud. He licked his lips and stomped back into the kitchen to grab a beer, snapped the cap off on the counter, and took a long drink. “I fucked a guy.” The words didn’t sound that crazy on his lips. “I fucked a guy and I want to do it again.” He cackled again and took another sip. “All right, Jay, calm down.”
That night he grilled up his steaks and ate alone on the deck, and all he could think about was Charlie.
The next morning, Jason sat down to work and came up with nothing. Instead, he cleaned his kitchen and tidied up around the boat and resisted the urge to take the dinghy to shore and find Charlie at Porcelain Pot. He ate a hurried lunch of leftover steak from the night before and then sat down to write again. And again he came up with nothing.
The computer screen sat there blankly. Jason imagined it was glaring at him, silently daring him to even attempt writing. So far, he�
�d only written his introduction. His book was supposed to be about the life of a beat cop turned detective in Los Angeles, and his work on a few other high-profile cases besides Patton, AKA The Flower Man. But the project was so immense, the cases he intended to write about a swarm of memories in his head all buzzing around. How would he even organize his thoughts? It seemed impossible, even considering he already had notes. Notes upon notes and a rough outline.
His palms started sweating as he stared at the computer. Perhaps this was all a mistake. The few articles he’d written were a huge fluke. Who was he to think he could write an entire book?
Before he could think about it, Jason grabbed his phone and brought up Charlie’s picture and his mind cleared instantly, all his blood rushing down to his dick. He rose from the table and marched into his bedroom, plopping down on the unmade bed. He scrambled to unzip his fly. He shoved his hand down his pants as he stared at the picture again.
Jason thought of Charlie’s deceptively wide-eyed gaze fixed on him, his red mouth slightly parted as he bounced on top of him, his luscious ass tight and hot around Charlie’s dick…
He stroked himself faster and faster…
Charlie, sweaty and blissed out, as he jerked off onto Jason’s chest.
“Fuck, Charlie…” He came quickly and lay back, wiping his hand on his leg before hurriedly texting Charlie with still shaking hands.
He was utterly at Charlie’s mercy. Somehow, he’d gone from being surprised at a hint of attraction to wanting him in his bed whenever possible.
So much for heterosexuality.
How’s work? He texted first.
It took an agonizing few minutes for the response.
Great day! Charlie texted. Lots of orders for my mom’s blankets.
Jason knew what that was about. Charlie’s mother made giant knitted blankets that they sold to the tourists for a mint. He smiled fondly.
He texted back: Writer’s block is killing me. Come over whenever. If you want.
Jason stared at the text, chewing his lip. He didn’t want to sound desperate for Charlie to come over, but he also didn’t want to sound careless.
Yet things were supposed to be casual…
Nothing felt casual.
Sure! I’ll come to dock at 5.
That was sooner than Jason had imagined, and he grinned from ear to ear before sending back a thumbs up.
Now there was nothing to do but wait. He gave up entirely on writing for the day and instead, bustled about the boat and ended up cleaning it top to bottom as five o’clock approached minute by minute. At four he took a shot of vodka to take the edge off and then stared at Charlie’s picture for several minutes without even jerking off. Instead, he just thought nice thoughts about Charlie and how easy he was to talk to and that was worse.
At five-thirty, Jason changed his clothes three times, gave up on finding a sexy outfit he did not possess, and fussed with his hair for a bit before taking the dinghy out to the dock.
Charlie was standing on the dock, fully dressed this time. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with an illustration of Edgar Allan Poe on it, and a cardigan.
It was cute and weirdly appealing that Charlie could switch from beach boy sex pot to bookish introvert so abruptly.
Jason’s dinghy bumped into the dock and he stood awkwardly in the boat, reaching up to take Charlie’s hand as he climbed down.
“Whoa!” Charlie lost a step and tumbled into the dinghy. Jason grabbed him, bringing him down on top of him in lieu of letting him slip into the water. The two of them laughed at the awkward heap they’d made, and Charlie fumbled as he sat up. Jason clutched his shoulder and lunged forward, kissing him with all the urgent desperation that had been brewing all day.
They seemed to have a habit of falling on top of each other in the dinghy and Jason didn’t mind it at all.
Charlie’s chuckle faded as the kiss turned serious, their tongues curling together as they embraced in the little boat before he finally pulled away.
“Hey,” Charlie said. “Nice to see you too.”
Jason flushed and he rubbed his forehead, composing himself. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Yeah, let’s go.”
But on the ride back to the yacht, Charlie held his hand and didn’t let go.
Once they’d climbed up onto the boat, Jason didn’t waste any time, and his heart flipped over in his chest as Charlie threw his arms around him and smiled into a kiss that had Jason cornering him against the short stairs to the upper deck.
But it wasn’t only this he’d invited Charlie over for. That would have been easier. He pulled away and tugged on Charlie’s hand, leading him down to the lower deck.
“I cooked my steaks already, but I got burger stuff,” Jason said. “Or shoot... should we have gone out to eat? You just got off work, right? You must be hungry. Damn. I’ve got burgers and chips and some beer. You’re no vegetarian, are you? I never even asked? Should we go out?”
Charlie gave him a look he couldn’t begin to read, his brow gently furrowed. He leaned forward and kissed Jason’s cheek. “Burgers sound great. Thanks. Lemme help.”
“Okay. Good.” Jason fluttered around the kitchen, digging the hamburger patties and fixings out of the fridge.
“Did you clean?” Charlie said.
He paused, half a head of lettuce in his hands, and squinted. “Oh... well, yeah. I was trying to write, and I was totally blocked, like I said. Ended up cleaning most of the day. But it’s nicer for guests. Or... well, you. You’re my only guest.”
Charlie ducked his head, his cheeks a little pink. “Can I see your book? If not, it’s cool. Maybe it’s rude to ask…”
“You’re welcome to it,” Jason said, blurting a laugh. “Not much to it yet. Starting to wonder if there ever will be.”
Jason moved past Charlie and crossed to his office nook in the corner where he opened his laptop and pulled out the awkward desk chair that he’d tied to the arm of the couch so it wouldn’t slide across the floor when the current got rocky. His notes were in a messy pile on the table and he sighed, watching Charlie navigate the clutter. He left Charlie to the book and went to fire up the grill, finding himself unaccountably nervous about the bit of writing he’d already accomplished and what Charlie might think of it.
Charlie took his sweet time, hunched over the laptop and then paging through the notes on the table. Finally, dinner was ready, and Jason called him up. Charlie appeared on the upper deck a minute later, stretching.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I was going to help,” Charlie stood in the doorway, his hair blown around by the sea breeze until Jason shooed him into the loveseat.
“Eh, there’s not enough room to help anyway,” Jason said, with a shrug. He couldn’t bear to ask what Charlie thought of the book so far, and instead handed Charlie his plate and a beer and grabbed his own food and took a seat. He took a long swallow and watched Charlie quietly poking at his burger, a pensive expression on his face.
“I read those articles you told me about,” Charlie finally said, and took a big bite of his burger. Jason just stared at him, watching him chew and swallow and take sips of beer. “Hey, tasty burger!”
“The articles?” Jason said. His voice sounded too high. “That I wrote? Me?”
“Yeah, I mean they’re easy to find,” Charlie said, but he wouldn’t quite look at Jason. “They were so good, dude! I can see how you got a book deal. It’s interesting to, ya know, compare those to what you’ve got here so far.”
Jason blinked at him and promptly burst out laughing. He had to cover his mouth and his eyes teared up he laughed so hard. “You are the most tactful guy I’ve ever met,” Jason said wryly. “Tell me how you really feel. The intro sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Well…” Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and ignored his food, sheepish. “There’s not much to go on so far…”
“Charlie, seriously. Don’t pussyfoot. Tell me straight up.”
“Well, it sucks,” Charlie sat flatly.
“Okay,” Charlie said. He ate some more burger and tipped his head thoughtfully and Jason thought, adorably.
“The articles you wrote,” he finally said, “they were so focused. The one about catching Patton and then the one about being a rookie on the ground in Los Angeles? And they were really raw and honest too. The Flower Man one especially. You held nothing back, but you knew exactly what you wanted to say. I feel like in this book so far you don’t know what to say and you’re holding everything back.”
“Hmm.” Jason considered that and rubbed the back of his neck. “I think you’re right. You know... when I wrote those articles, I was raw. It wasn’t long after I got shot. I had PTSD shit, and I was getting physical therapy. I was a wreck. The writing gave me something to focus on.”
“You work well under pressure,” Charlie said. “You were forced to either focus or probably lose your shit. That makes sense. That sounds like a cop’s mindset.”
“Exactly,” Jason said, and his mind reeled. He’d tried to talk about his book with both Cal and Alyssa and a couple other friends. They’d tried their best, but it all came down to unhelpful platitudes.
Charlie’s comments were useful.
“Tell me what else you think,” Jason said, and took another bite of his burger.
12
Charlie
“I read that too! Holy shit!” Charlie laughed and slapped Jason’s bare chest.