Eight ~ Caliste
He was solid. Firm. A brick wall of support that I desperately needed.
Water streamed over me, into my face, washing away the smell of smoke and the flaky blood. Some mine, some his. We’d been through something life altering a few hours ago. Something that would forever change our world…would change us as people. There was no way you missed the call of the grim reaper by a mere moment and not carry that inside you forever.
He shifted behind me, the hair on his chest rubbing along my back, his stiff cock brushing my ass. I drew in a breath, water filled my mouth, my dulled senses began to blink back to wakefulness.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… my dick has lost the connection to my brain. I know this isn’t the right time and place but you’re so beautiful and I’ve been, well, I’ve been kind of admiring you for…well, for months. Ever since I first seen you on that gold lounge of yours the first night me and Ian came here it was…you were…shit. I’m sorry. This isn’t the proper time for this.”
Feeling the same thing as he was – that floundering, gasping madness that realizing your life is naught but a godly hiccup brings – I let him take my full weight. His hand moved to my unbandaged hip, his breath hot, quick huffs on the back of my neck. Then I reached behind me to take his cock in my hand.
Eyes closed to the water pounding into my face, I turned my head to the right. His fingers bit into my hip as his prick kicked in my palm.
“There may never be another time…a better time. All the time we are assured of is right now. And right now, I want to experience joy and pleasure. I want to feel something good, something that will scour away the horror, if even just for a little while. Give me a few minutes, Butch, just a few.”
He plastered himself to my wet back. His teeth grazed my shoulder then caught my earlobe. My cock pulsed with need.
“I’ll give you all the time in the world, baby.” I twisted around slightly, wincing at the pull on my hip and thigh, unwilling to let the pain drown out the passion. I lowered my head. His mouth claimed mine. He was a rough, aggressive kisser. I melted into him, sliding into his thick arms, slipping my tongue over his as our cocks rubbed together. The shock wave made me gasp. His lips roamed over my face before coming back to my lips. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, rutted against him the best that I could, pressing my cock against his. “God above,” he grunted, then wedged a hand between us, fisting our cocks in a strong grip that made me weak in the knees.
“Yes, oh yes, that is so good…” It was beyond good. It was perfection. The hard fingers holding his dick against mine, the short strokes, his teeth nipping, his tongue skipping over my lower lip He would be a formidable lover, I suspected. I carded my hands through his wet hair, keeping his mouth to mine. He tasted like fine booze and man. My balls drew up and I whimpered against his lips. “Close…close…take me over.”
He kissed me hard, then went to his knees. I thrust my dick between his lips and pinched my nipples, twisting them as he moaned around my cock. I blew apart in no time, shooting down his throat as he cupped my balls. He sucked harder, milking me, pulling spurt after spurt from me until there was nothing left to give him. Then he pulled off, rested his brow to my pubic bone, and jerked himself off. Hot ribbons of cum hit my foot, then were washed down the drain. He licked at my navel, lapping off the water, his hazel eyes burning as our gaze met.
“You taste as sweet as you sound,” he said as he rose. I swayed a bit. All the lingering lust left his eyes as he leapt into the role of protector. It came naturally to him, I knew. “Easy, easy. Here, I got you.” I smiled at his motherly ways, then kissed him, enjoying the taste of myself on his tongue. His hands moved over me, easing me to the side then placing me against the wall. “Rest there. Let me wash you off.”
“I can handle a bar of soap,” I argued, but the tiles against my back did help take the weight off my leg. And his soapy hands on my body, hair, and face felt marvelous. A man could get used to this kind of pampering. “Thank you.” He looked up at me, his hair flat to his head, the new black stitches in his forehead standing out in the bright lights of the bathroom. “For the release, for my life, for the bath. I just…you’re a sweet thing. Much like a tiny terrier who’s ferocious when strangers come to call, but cuddly when it’s just him and his owner.”
“Hmpf.” He swept a lathered hand up my side and around my arm pit.
“Kiss me again, please? Once more.”
“You need to stop asking me to love on you. We’ll never get out of this shower.” Yet he did kiss me. Bubbly hands cradling my face, he licked into my mouth, the strokes of his tongue soft now. How I wished we could linger here in this bath, exploring each other, pretending just for a brief moment that the world was as it had been. “God above but you’re the most delicious thing.”
“I wish we had more time,” I said, easing myself around so that I could rinse off.
He assisted me out of the shower a moment later, both of us clean, but still shaken. Or at least I was. Butch wrapped me in warm white towels, tossed one around his waist, and then helped me back to the sofa. I eased myself down, grimacing at tape pulling as Butch removed the sodden bandages. I peeked down. “That’s going to scar,” I whispered.
“It might. It’s okay, though. When this is all done and over with, we’ll go to my favorite bar and you can tell them all how you nearly got blown up but didn’t. Maybe you’ll catch the eye of some dude who digs scars.” He whipped the dirty bandages into a trash can.
“I think there may be only one man whose eye I wish to catch.” He pointed to himself. I nodded. Then he smiled. A wide grin that made me smile. “Why did we wait so long to reach out to each other? Why did it take a bomb to make us act?”
“I don’t know, baby. I guess I just figured you were too divine to even look at a bulldog guy like me. Sit there. I’m going to rummage around in the bathroom. Those abrasions should be covered.”
I nodded as he rose and padded off, my gaze on his broad shoulders and trim waist. Why had I let so much time pass? I’d suspected he desired me for months. And I’d come to know that he was a good man, gruff yes, and not as cultured as many of my clients, but what did that matter? He had a good soul. Sometimes I was a foolish, foolish man.
“Okay, so we do have some first aid supplies and clothes.” He hurried out of the steamy bathroom, his arms filled with clothing and bandages. I sat up a bit. “They’re going to be big. Jeremy is what the tailors call tall and husky, but they’re not reeking of smoke and covered with blood.” He placed the bundle of soft cotton t-shirts and denim beside me, then knelt down to tend to my hip. I moved to my side. Leaning on my elbow hurt as well, and I sighed as I tugged the goopy white square from my arm.
“He had suits in that wardrobe, too, but fuck that shit.” He ripped open a packet and laid a clean cotton bandage over my hip, then another, and then another. “One time when I was a kid, we were playing with bikes. Don’t ask if they were ours or not; they weren’t.” He glanced up and I caught the glimmer of mischief in his green-brown gaze. “We’d set up this ramp behind the brothel my mother worked in. Weak ass thing made out of a scabby two-by-six and a couple of busted bricks. No way was that going to stay in place, but hey, we were stupid kids who stole bikes instead of going to school, what did we know? Anyway… hand me that tape. Thanks, baby. Anyway, I was bound determined to go first. I’m a bullhead, in case you didn’t know.”
“Oh, I knew.” He chuckled, tore off a length of medical tape, and then fastened one side of the bandage to my hip.
“Figured you did. Anyway, I went to the end of the alley, pedaled my ass off, and hit that two-by-six at full speed. The bricks popped out and I flew face first into a brick wall.” He paused to tap his somewhat crooked nose. “That was the first time I broke it. I also left most of my face on the wall. Hurt like a motherfucker. Mom was too high to take me to the ER, and there was no cash for that, so Mrs. Ping, the woman that ran the Chinese laundry, washed me up and fed me some herbal tea.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was a humorous tale wound in a sad telling. Not that all of us at Gems didn’t have woeful pasts. But there was something heartbreaking about the tidbits he let out now and again. Yes, my mother had despised me and had cast me out. Lord knows it was a wonder she hadn’t tossed me to the gators for being what I was, a gay little boy who loved his mama’s pretty frocks. But hate is attention, be it a scarring kind of attention. Poor little Beauregard’s mother was too deep into her addiction to care about him one way or the other.
“Do you have family from the south?” I asked as he worked away on my hip and thigh. “Beauregard has a Southern ring to it.”
“I guess,” he said with a shrug. “She used to say we were descended from some famous general from South Carolina, and that she named me after him because he was such a hero.”
“We shall have to look your famous relative up someday.”
“Yeah, we’ll do that right after we take care of the Bianchi problem.” He patted a final bit of tape along my thigh then stood up and took my chin in his hand. “I wish we’d have done this months ago.” He bent down to put his mouth on mine. I sighed into the kiss.
“I wish we had, too,” I replied when the kiss broke. We were two men full of wishes and low on time.
He rubbed my cheek with his thumb, his gaze rich with emotion. “When this is all over, I’m going to take you to fanciest restaurant in whatever city you choose to see.”
“Oh! Paris! I would love to see Paris.”
He dropped a kiss to my nose. “Then Paris it is.”
As we dressed in a strangers clothes, I tried my best to think only of dinner in Paris with Butch instead of the nightmare we were living in Colchester.