The kiss burned Jo’s cheek, so he changed the topic, feeling so hot he wished he could just pull off his top. “How much investment money can you hope for?”
Mr. B licked his lips and stared at Jo in silence, only making the temperature in the room rise. “I gotta save up.” Instead of lighting the pipe right away, he pulled the yellow sweater off, revealing that he was wearing one of Jo’s favorite shirts, gray plaid that fit Mr. B just right around the big tattooed arms and chest.
Jo nodded, painstakingly keeping his gaze on the rosy cheeks and glazed-over eyes. “You know... if you needed any help, I will be there. You know my job isn’t all that, and it’s not full-time anyway.”
Mr. B mulled over that for a moment as he lit his pipe, instantly filling the space with more cherry smoke. “If you have some spare time and a bit of cash, we could partner up, do the business together.” He poured Jo more liquor, seeming slightly dazed himself. “We could name the brand after both of us, you know, connecting the names. Jornard?”
Jo exhaled and instantly drank some more, watching Mr. B with the burn of the kiss still present on his cheek. He’d written enough pieces on Brangelina to know what ‘Jornard’ suggested. “That makes it sound like we’re married. Besides, I don’t have that much cash. I could offer my time for shares. We could do some kind of crowdfunding for the money, maybe?”
Mr. B nodded, looking serious with that pipe in his mouth. Or absolutely ridiculous. Jo wasn’t sure which one it was. “This is good. I like this.” He pulled out a notepad and sat back next to Jo, thigh to thigh. “So I’ll need to make some money quick. What assets do I have?”
“Yourself. Me. This train car,” said Jo and offered him a cookie. He was glad to see the gloom gone from Mr. B’s face.
With one hand busy with the pipe and the other with the notepad, instead of taking the cookie, Mr. B bit into it straight from Jo’s hand. Without thinking, Jo pushed the rest of it into his own mouth, gaze focused on Mr. B.
“Yeah. I haven’t had much time to deck this place out, but I’ve got all this stuff from the junkyard. If I pimp out the train cars, make them all stylish, maybe I could rent them out,” Mr. B said and put the pen behind his ear.
Jo nodded fervently and unclogged his mouth with more booze. “You could make an experience out of it. You look the part. You could teach people how to chop lumber and make simple furniture.”
Mr. B laughed and opened his mouth for Jo to feed him a piece of another cookie as he made some notes. “Oh, man. That’s so true! If I just frame it right, get a sleek website, professional photos, I could sell this as ‘The Lumberjack Experience’.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Jo grinned and sipped some more of the fruity booze. Was he imagining things, or had Mr. B’s gaze swept down his chest? He wasn’t sure, because his head was already spinning slightly. He’d always been on the lightweight side, and Mr. B’s booze was more potent than its taste suggested. “I could do a test ride for you.”
Mr. B snorted so hard he spat out come crumbs. “That sounds so dirty. It’s an experience, not a hipster brothel!”
Jo grinned and pushed at Mr. B’s arm gently. “Hipster brothel? How would that work? As a pop-up at your local farmer’s market?”
Mr. B wouldn’t stop laughing, and he drank more of the sweet alcohol. “A pop-up brothel! I love that. I’ve got a tagline! ‘Bring Your Own Wood’.”
Jo spilled the alcohol over his hand when he shuddered with laughter. He drank the rest of it and put down the jar, rolling back into a pile of pillows. “I have something even better. Wait for it”—he narrowed his eyes and made sure all of Mr. B’s attention was on him—“We will take care of your wood.”
Mr. B choked on some of the smoke so hard there were tears in his eyes. “Lumbersexual carpentry lessons.”
Jo relaxed into the pillows, letting his long legs fall to the sides and watching Mr. B in between. His skin burned with heat when he imagined Mr. B blowing all that fragrant smoke over his skin. “Sounds like a big earner.”
“I’d wear my suspenders over bare skin.” Mr. B smiled… seductively? Or was it Jo’s imagination? “I’d wear thick-rimmed glasses, beard trimmed to perfection. I’d get this place to look like the perfect rustic getaway. Plaid blankets, burlap curtains.”
“A bed made of reclaimed wood and covered with a vintage bearskin rug,” added Jo, discretely rolling to his stomach when his cock got too interested in the vision created before him.
If only Mr. B wasn’t so important in his life, Jo would have simply gone for it. But was their friendship worth the risk of having a go at something more? What if he wasn’t even Mr. B’s type? What if everything changed between them, and he lost his best friend?
Mr. B shifted closer on the mattress and put his pipe away, looking at Jo intently. “I’m single, I’m open-minded, why wouldn’t I do it, you know? Just for a while. If we made the whole hipster brothel thing an experience, we could charge a shitload of cash. Sharing economy, right? Someone lacks sex and I have a nice body.”
Jo laughed, but even the booze couldn’t keep him up in the blissful silliness when Mr. B looked at him so seriously. “Oh... would you be game for that?”
Mr. B’s gaze was unfocused, but he nodded. “It would be for guys only, since I’m gay. I like sex anyway. Mr. A’s not gonna tell me I’m boring ever again. I can be freaking sexually adventurous. It could be fun.”
Jo pushed an entire cookie into his mouth, just to make his silence plausible for those few seconds more. “I mean, I bet people would pay good money for that kind of experience,” he said, looking down the chest so broad it had the buttons of the plaid shirt close to popping.
“Imagine you’re a gay guy, looking for a unique experience. How much would you pay for a night with me?” As if to distract Jo from the question, Mr. B started unbuttoning his shirt.
Jo froze, his mind going in circles as his eyes hungered for the flesh to be revealed. His brain felt too big for his skull, and he could swear if his cock could get goose bumps, it would have gotten them now. “Like... a million dollars?”
“There you go. I’m bound to make bank. Look. I even have a tattoo to go with it. I don’t think you’ve seen this one.” Mr. B opened the shirt, showing off the nicely defined pecs with soft blond fuzz from the chest down. To the side, under the ribs, was a tattoo of an ax planted firmly in a stump of wood.
Without thinking, Jo touched it, sliding his index finger up the elongated handle of the ax and petting the soft, blond body hair. He wanted to just bury his face in it.
Mr. B grinned. “I’m gonna get one that says ‘Timber’ on the other side.”
Jo swallowed and moved his fingers through the hot fuzz. His skin prickled as he traced the rosy flesh. Mr. B was deliciously tempting, like that glazed donut you always denied yourself but absolutely needed to taste. “Here?”
A slap on the wrist pulled Jo out of his fantasy world. “These are valuable goods. You have to pay to play.” Mr. B laughed.
“And I don’t have that million yet,” Jo said, chastising himself for what he’d just done. It was dangerous territory, and the moment couldn’t have been any worse.
Mr. B wiggled his eyebrows and rubbed his hand down his chest in a way Jo wanted to. “Well, when you’ve got a million bucks to spare, and you’re up for the Lumbersexual Experience, I’m your man.”
Jo smiled, but the joke wasn’t really funny to him. Mr. B was completely oblivious to the move Jo had just made, as if Jo were a sexless alien who could not possibly make Mr. B’s blood pump faster.
Served him right for never admitting to Mr. B that he might just, possibly-maybe, be bisexual.
Chapter 2
At some point in the night, Mr. B had had to turn his back on Jo to make sure he didn’t wake up with a boner poking at his friend’s ass. The last thing he wanted was to make Jo uncomfortable, and he liked sleepovers with Jo too much for that to happen. He wasn’t exactly perving on a straight friend, but he was only hu
man, so there was no reason for him to not take pleasure from glancing at Jo’s body now and then when Jo changed.
But when Jo removed his underwear in front of the train car and walked through the long grass between the trees completely naked save for his boots, Mr. B did indeed perv. While not as tall as him, Jo was trim like a wild cat, his smooth skin a perfect canvas for the morning sunlight and the tattoos covering the greater part of his upper body. Diamond shapes made up graphic depictions of various animals that occupied his arms, chest, and even the broad back above the fine ass that swung slightly when Jo walked.
Jo shook his head, tossing about his straight black hair as he relieved his bladder by the tree. Mr. B knew he shouldn’t keep looking, but the dimples that appeared in the sides of Jo’s buttocks when he pushed his hips forward were too delicious to miss. And it wasn’t like anything could ever happen between the two of them. What Jo didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
Mr. B pulled off the T-shirt he’d slept in and walked out in just his boxer shorts. He yawned as soon as he stepped on the wet grass, inhaling the fresh forest air. Not many places relaxed him as much as his piece of land. Even if it wasn’t exactly his but his older brother’s.
Mr. B stole another glance at Jo’s long legs and the thighs that had gained a good amount of lean muscles in the last two years. When they met, Jo was much skinnier. Not that it ever stopped him from finding a new girl every few months or having an easy time hooking up for one-night stands. Jo had an ease of flirting that Mr. B admired.
“I’m starving,” declared Jo, turning back to face Mr. B. He grinned and walked back toward the train cars, carefreely airing his cock and balls. Mr. B was desperate not to look too closely, but with Jo’s pubes completely shaved, every detail was presented in high definition.
Mr. B rubbed his face, still hazy after having drunk too much yesterday. At least they’d done some good brainstorming, something Mr. B needed like never before, because his life was about to change big time.
“Did we eat everything we had last night? I’ve got some pickles, but not much else. A jar of hummus? Maybe.” Mr. B looked up at the sun and took another deep breath of the summery air to avoid staring at Jo’s abs. He did enough of that during training, especially when the WOD involved exercises that made Jo’s tops roll up.
Jo gathered his hair back into a bun and crooked his head, sliding his tongue over that attractive line between dark shadow of the facial hair growing back and the plump lip. “I might have some homemade energy bars on me. Sounds like we’re gonna have a feast.”
Mr. B stretched. “I shouldn’t have had all those cookies, but I just couldn’t force myself to care. Let’s shower first.” Jo’s eyebrows went higher when he said that. “‘Cause I only have enough water in the tank for one.”
Jo took a second to react, but in the end nodded and stepped away to make room in front of the steps. “Show me the way then.”
Mr. B pulled off his boxers and threw them inside the train car without looking where they’d fall. “Ah! You haven’t seen the shower, have you? It’s a work in progress.” He laughed and rushed along the train car, excited to show off his DIY skills.
The sound of Jo’s footsteps in the grass behind him made heat spike along Mr. B’s spine, but he relaxed and breathed in the fresh air, along with all the scents of summer. The shower would be refreshing. It wouldn’t be suitable in winter, but was definitely good enough for now.
The contraption consisted of a showerhead connected to a rainwater-filtering tank mounted on top of a simple wooden frame that fit Mr. B’s body comfortably.
He stood in front of it and spread his arms once he turned around. “Ta-dah!”
Jo smirked and put his hands on his hips, drawing attention to the ring-like tattoos on each of his finger joints. “Impressive. Does it come with a sauna?”
Mr. B stood under the tank and gestured for Jo to come closer. “Now that’s a project for me. You know what? I’m actually glad I lost my job. I’ll have time to spread my wings, and do all the projects I’ve been pushing aside.” Yesterday’s ideas came back to him as Jo approached after shedding his boots.
The hipster brothel. It had been joke at first, but the longer they’d talked about it, the more Mr. B had realized that maybe he could actually go for it. When was he supposed to ‘live a little’ if not now?
He was twenty-eight, so he’d spent most of his prime with Mr. A. He earned this. His train of thought stalled when Jo’s skin rubbed against his in the space underneath the tank that now proved a tight fit for two. Jo scooted down to pick up a bottle of shower gel and started quickly massaging it into dry skin.
Mr. B was beginning to reconsider the idea of showering together, because seeing Jo’s head at the level of his crotch was doing things to his body that it shouldn’t. He felt so guilty any time his thoughts trailed off to his friend in any kind of sexual context, and yet he couldn’t help it. His mind suggested a reality in which Jo opened up his lips wide and invited Mr. B’s cock in for a long and languid plowing.
Mr. B needed the cold water, bad. “Ready or not!” He opened up the waterflow with a tug on the string that released the tank, showering them with icy droplets.
Jo squealed, cowering at Mr. B’s feet and hiding his head, as if he expected the water to turn solid. “You shit, B!”
Mr. B laughed despite squirming with discomfort himself. “I feel my hangover going away already.” He grabbed the organic, bio-degradable soap and started rubbing it into his skin. He got that one especially for the outdoor shower, to not wreck the grass and soil.
Jo stood up and started massaging his skin in quick movements. The cold made him completely forget about Mr. B’s presence it seemed, and he swiftly washed his groin, all the time curling up his shoulders from the iciness of the water. “I’m gonna have my revenge for this,” he said through his teeth clattering.
Mr. B rushed with the washing, wary that the water might run out soon. “What can you possibly do?” Jo was standing too close for Mr. B to deny himself the pleasure of looking at him. All that lean muscle under fair, tattooed skin, the thick black hair sticking to Jo’s face and neck...
Jo looked up with water drizzling down his straight nose as he took a step closer, penetrating deep into Mr. B’s personal space. “You won’t see it coming.”
What Mr. B didn’t see coming was his heart starting to rattle in his chest and pumping blood to his dick despite the freezing cold water cooling him off. If Jo weren’t straight, Mr. B would fucking kiss him then and there, and everything else be damned.
The buzz of an engine was his wakeup call. The property was at a dead end, and it said so at the start of the dirt road leading all the way up here, so no one ever came here without purpose.
Jo stepped out of the shower and grabbed his boots, shaking the water off his hair.
Mr. B frowned and ran past him as soon as he heard a car door being slammed on the other side of the train car. “Who is it? Better close your eyes, ‘cause I’m naked!” he yelled, but the answer made him stiffen.
“Nothing I haven’t seen!” Mr. A yelled back.
Jo muttered a curse but followed Mr. B as if he were his entourage. “What is this fuck doing here? Crawling back to your feet?” asked Jo quietly. Mr. B wanted to answer, but a sudden gust of wind made water practically freeze on his skin, and that was enough to shut him up.
Mr. B hoped he could grab a towel, but Mr. A already turned the corner with a big box in his arms. He lifted an eyebrow at Jo and Mr. B.
“Wow. That was quick,” Mr. A said, frowning. He looked well rested, well groomed, and with the shirt so tight on his muscular chest, he wouldn’t have any issues with finding a replacement for Mr. B. If anything, the gray hair in his beard and the recently developed crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes had given his appearance more character.
Jo rushed past Mr. B and into the train car but left the door open, unaware of Mr. A’s gaze licking its way up his ass.
&nbs
p; “If the breakup was what you needed to move on, then maybe I shouldn’t feel guilty anymore,” Mr. A said, transferring his gaze to Mr. B. His thick biceps bulged as he lifted the huge box before settling it down in the grass.
Mr. B growled. “It’s nothing like that! And stop perving at him. He’s straight.”
Mr. A put his hands on his hips with a deep sigh. “You sure this isn’t a Brad and Angelina kind of situation? ‘We only got together after Brad and Jen broke up’.”
Mr. B raised his hands to the sky in frustration. “Why would I have lied about this kind of thing to a guy who wanted an open relationship?”
Mr. A pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I don’t know. You have this straight people envy going on. You think I didn’t notice you ogling wedding rings in the catalogue?”
Mr. B’s cheeks went ablaze. “I did not ogle wedding rings! And there’s gay weddings, so how is that supposed to be straight people envy, huh?” He crossed his arms, pretending he wasn’t bothered at all by standing there butt-naked in front of his fully clothed ex.
Mr. A laughed into his face. “Come on, man. Gay weddings, those fucking viral proposals, and shit, they are the epitome of straight envy. We aren’t straight people, so why would we copy them when we can keep to the lifestyle we’ve had since the beginning of time? I’d rather stay free as a bird.”
“He said, trying to justify wanting to fuck any guy in town,” narrated Joe, emerging out of the train car in just a black cotton tunic with a collar so broad and long he’d put it over his head like a hood. Always so freaking cool. Even the monochrome palette of blacks and grays he always wore made him look refined rather than sad or boring.
Mr. B couldn’t help but snort at the comment. That was exactly the help he needed. “And just because I wasn’t sure how to act about the open relationship when we were still together, doesn’t mean I don’t have plans. I do, as a matter of fact, and they’re much more exciting and liberated than you could imagine.”
Hipster Brothel (contemporary gay romance) Page 2