Wandering

 “I want to go on a road trip. Just you and me. The highway, the radio, the blue sky, the back roads, and windows down. We’ll talk about everything and nothing. We’ll sing our hearts out, and we’ll make memories we’ll never forget. Just you and me.”  --- Unknown.

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not.”  ― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Emerson’s Essays

Reconnection

Braxton looked out the window and saw the parallel rows of terminal buildings as the plane came down for a landing. It was Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta, one of the busiest airports in the country, and without a doubt the busiest in the southeast. He thought of the old joke he had heard his grandmother repeat anytime someone mentioned flying to or through it. ‘Can’t go to hell, without passing through Atlanta’s airport.’ 

The plane descended and he grew excited by the next three weeks. Oliver, his best friend from grade school and he were doing a much planned, much delayed road trip. He couldn’t believe it had been three years since they last saw each other, a brief meet at a coffee shop in their hometown Christmas of that year. Before that there had been the occasionally crossed paths either in their hometown or the one time at the airport in Dallas. Oliver lived in Arlington, Virginia and he was in Denver, Colorado.

Braxton considered those times they met, how very brief each one had been, realizing they had not really hung out since the summer after graduating high school. Oliver headed to college that fall, and he eventually joined the Navy, finding himself first in Guam, then Okinawa. Oliver graduated after four years, and he finished two enlistments for four years, then each found themselves settling into a routine life.

The plane taxied to the terminal and Braxton could feel his excitement build. He wondered how they would get along after being separated for so long. He thought of their high school days when they had considered themselves outsiders. He knew it had been harder for Oliver, who had been a skinny kid, considered a geek by their classmates. In hindsight, he knew they were more average than they realized, so many of at that age were the same. At least as they presented themselves.

Walking up the ramp from the plane, Braxton smiled, unable to hold it in, the amusement of finding out they had something else in common, something not revealed until after they were separated. That fall after their last summer, Oliver at the university posting on social media he was gay. It would be ten days before Braxton saw the post, for he had been in the middle boot camp.

He had sat in the computer room looking for Oliver’s posts when he saw a thread talking about dating, going out with some guy, then the initial posts of being gay, then the one coming out. Braxton felt the rush of familiarity, the realization of something missed between the two of them. If nothing else, they could have been supporting of each other. For he too was gay, but at the time still closeted, afraid to come out even though the Navy’s policies opened the door for him to do so.

It would be days later, the feeling of being a caged animal seeking escape becoming overwhelming, that he would come out to some of his closest friends. They were in a bar on base, a few beers in each of them. He expected some push back, maybe even one or two of them rejecting him. What he didn’t expect was Ricardo laughing, then the others, and finally after he sat there stunned by their response, Wyatt leaned forward.

“Tell us something we don’t know.”

Braxton walked into baggage claim and looked for the conveyor belt that would bring him his luggage. He dug out his cellphone and brought up Oliver.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m at baggage waiting on my luggage. Where are you?”

“I’m already outside. Call me when you have your luggage and come out to the sidewalk to the place for visitor’s pickup.”

“You already got a car?”

“Yeah…call me when you got your luggage.”

Braxton was surprised Oliver had them ready to roll, for he was not supposed to land until a few minutes prior to his own landing. Moving to one side close to the place the luggage first appears, he waited. After about five minutes, the belt began to move and a few suitcases came out, then a duffel bag, then another. After another minute suitcases, overnight bags, duffel bags and even a box all taped up came out. He watched for his large duffel bag, the one he had kept from his Navy days, with patches sewn on it from all the places he had been during his tour of duty. He began to worry it might have gotten lost when it finally appeared.

Braxton had called as soon as he had the duffel bag in hand, and his backpack slung over his shoulders, one he planned to use when they got to the mountains. It was a small one, only good for two or three days, but they had not planned a hike of a longer duration. He moved through the busy airport, always amazed at how many people were on the go at any one time. He found a set of doors to the exterior and came out on the sidewalk at a place city buses did drop-offs and pickups, and he moved down the walk until he came to a place where people were being picked up by family or friends. Oliver didn’t tell him what kind of rental he was driving, so Braxton stared at drivers pulling around until he saw it, the bright yellow Jeep. He knew immediately it was Oliver, for he had seen the posts when he bought it two months ago. Since those initial posts it was obvious Oliver had done some modifications. A cargo carrier over the top, a lift kit, larger tires with more aggressive tread, and extra lights mounted on the front.  He moved to the curb and watched the smiling Oliver pull next to him.

“Hop in,” said Oliver.

“I see you drove down from Arlington.”

“Got here last night. Just toss your stuff in back and we’ll get it squared away at the restaurant.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’m ready to eat,” Braxton replied, tossing his duffel bag and backpack in the footwell of the back seat, noticing Oliver had his stuff in the carrier.

Buckled in and Oliver pulling away from the curb, Braxton looked over at his friend, seeing him in the flesh for the first time in a long time.

“What made you drive down?”

“This,” Oliver replied, tapping the dash. “It crude, a bit rough riding, but for a road trip, I can’t think of a better way to go.”

Braxton laughed at the absurdity of it, riding in a vehicle with its doors stuffed in back letting the wind swirl around them. They were initially going south, to the Gulf Coast in the Florida panhandle, then west to New Orleans, then they would go north to Memphis, east to Nashville, continuing east until in the Smoky Mountains and on to Asheville.

On the Road

Oliver drove along 431 heading south through southern Alabama. They had taken I-85 out of Atlanta and keeping up with the seventy plus mile per hour traffic made talking difficult in the open Jeep. So, they rode in silence until circling around Columbus, Georgia, where they crossed the river into Phenix City, Alabama picking up 431. The secondary road required lower speeds than the interstate.

During the first hour of their drive, there had been glances back and forth, knowing smiles, at times a laugh. A response to finding themselves finally on their road trip. But underneath the smiling expressions lay an uneasiness. They had not truly been together since the summer after high school. Despite knowing the other as well as they did, there was the revelation that was to come. The coming out as gay, something that had troubled each of them over the years. How something so important could have been missed made them feel a regret that haunted them; the missed opportunities and at some point, the realization they had cared for each other far more than either could admit at the time.

Oliver remembered the night Braxton came out. He had been shocked and had ignored Braxton’s emails for over a week. He knew it was wrong for he had done the same, but for his best friend, even to this day, to have been gay too was too much. There were daydreams and fantasies of how things could have been, if only.

If only they could have been brave enough, or secure enough to come out back then. They had been from that small town with its exuberant patriotism, something Braxton referred to as a white nationalism devoid of true patriotism. The churches exerted a powerful control over the town, violating the first amendment, at times defiantly, and with this control, came their dogma and prejudices. It was no place for a young person to come out different in any way.  

Ever since he first saw Braxton standing on the walk at the airport waiting, he had been taking measure of him once again, as he did in their past when they had a chance for a brief meeting during one of the holidays. The masculine nature of him. Braxton had always been better built, the first to show his maturity during school. Despite his avoidance of sports, the baseball coach had tried to persuade him to play, Braxton had preferred less structured activities that didn’t involve a team, like riding his bicycle or hiking trails in the nearby parks. What he liked best was gaming that involved fantasy storylines or reading one series or another in the genre. It had been the thing that created the bond between them, for Oliver knew he had been the skinny geeky kid, the one some of the jocks would pick on when Braxton wasn’t around.

It had been no surprise that Oliver went to college and Braxton into the military. It seemed preordained. A pathway out of their small town, each taking advantage of the opportunity afforded them, Braxton having less options.

“Hey, we’ll be in Dothan around lunch time,” said Oliver.

“Sounds good.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask but all of our conversations were about our trip. You still dating that chef? What was his name?”

“Brian, and no.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. It just didn’t work out,” Braxton replied looking over at Oliver smiling. “We were too much alike. What about you?”

“No one of late.”

Oliver considered their situation, neither dating and he wondered if it were possible, then dismissed it just as quickly. They lived so far apart with their own lives. Anything that happened between them would be just in the moment, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

Oliver glanced over at Braxton, once again feeling an attraction to his friend that was both nostalgic and physical. Sitting next to him in a t-shirt that flapped and clung to the muscular body and exposed arms with bulging biceps, currently it was the physical that made his heart race.

They arrived in Dothan about one o’clock finding a restaurant in downtown. It was busy and they had to wait for a table. By the time they were seated, the dining room began to thin out. Positioned along the far wall in a booth, they had some sense of privacy. Between getting drinks, ordering food, then waiting for it, they talked about their travel plans, how long it would take to get to Destin, and looking forward to seafood and the beach. Soon enough each had a burger set before them.

Braxton finished first, sitting back watching Oliver eat the last of his fries.

“Have you ever wondered what would have happened if we…you know?” asked Braxton.

Oliver looked up and saw the serious expression. He knew what Braxton referred, and he thought of all the scenarios he had daydreamed over the years, at times with such obsession his dreams began to revolve around them.

“I guess…yeah, some.”

“It’s just as well we didn’t. I mean, I…we would have just got hurt anyway.”

“Hurt? What do you mean?”

“After graduation, we would have gone our separate ways, so it would have been short lived, whatever had happened.”

“You think we were never compatible?”

Braxton looked across the table and Oliver saw it, something he had seen before a long time ago. An insecurity that defied the masculine nature of the man before him. But he saw it, recognized it for what it meant.

“You went to college, got a nice job, and…” said Braxton, Oliver interrupting him.

“Wait. You think I’m better than you? Braxton. No. No, that’s not true. If anything, it was I who would have not measured up. I mean…I was just this geeky kid, and you were like the other boys. You could have fit in so easily. They wanted you to play baseball, remember?”

“I remember, and I also remember struggling to make it through some of our classes and…”

“Braxton, you weren’t the only one.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I was so scared all the time. Afraid of getting bullied because I was a geek. Afraid of getting into a fight and beat up. Afraid of getting outed and things getting far worse. I hated high school and if it hadn’t been for your friendship, I don’t know. I don’t want to consider what could have happened.”

“You were scared?”

Oliver sat back, lowered his head, nodding it slowly. He looked up slowly. “I didn’t fit in anywhere in that school.”

“Can I take your plates,” the waiter asked, surprising them for they did not see him approach.

“Yes,” Braxton replied, pushing his plate to the end of the table as Oliver did the same.

“When you get a chance, you can bring the check,” said Oliver.

“Will be right back,” the waiter replied, then headed toward the kitchen.

“I admit college had been so much better. It gave me a freedom that was unimaginable when I was in high school. And didn’t you say the Navy gave you that too?”

“Yes.”

“Although I wondered how you did it.”

“Did what?”

“Survived being on that ship in those tiny compartments with all those guys. It must have been such a temptation,” said Oliver looking across the table with a mischievous grin.

Braxton laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve watched too much porn about what guys think goes on.”

“Nothing happened on the ship?”

Braxton smiled, then looked across the dining room. “I didn’t say that.”

They laughed, aloud, and suddenly the seriousness of before evaporated, pushed away from their consciousness once again.

The Gulf Coast

Oliver felt odd sitting in the passenger seat of his own Jeep. But he was glad to have Braxton behind the wheel giving him a break. Dothan was behind them, and they were traveling southwest through rural Alabama, and he looked at the passing landscape considering how familiar it seemed despite having never in this specific place. The old farmhouses, the brick ranch style houses, and mobile homes sitting back off the highway. They sat down gravel drives that cut along open fields, or the edge of a stand of trees, or in large grass yards that had to take hours to mow. Mixed in with them were metal buildings that had tractor supply stores, fence companies, welders, discount retailers and other small businesses able to survive in the rural countryside. There were old general stores with two or three gas pumps, and modern convenience stores with more pumps, but devoid of any character that gave them a sense of place.

As the air swirled around within the Jeep, Oliver felt another change. The air felt heavier, more humid, and hotter. As the terrain leveled out, the only deviation the slopes down to gullies, creeks and rivers, the vegetation looked less lush. There was a coarseness to it. The long thin needles of pine. The grasses that grew tall where not mowed. And the vines that enveloped everything in its path, monstrously efficient in taking over any landscape.

The heat seemed to radiate from everything, including his own body. But it also loosened it, made him relax against the seat. He glanced over at Braxton, wondering if he felt the heat the same way. Or did his time in the Pacific aboard a ship give him some acclimation to it.

“It is hot as fuck,” Oliver uttered as he slipped his right foot out of the footwell and on the step outside the body of the Jeep. He felt the warm air blow up his leg and swirl within the Jeep faster as his leg diverted it.

“Yep. I can’t wait to get to the beach. The breeze off the water will help,” Braxton replied as he slowed to turn. They were coming into Geneva, and it was soon apparent it was a very small town. Following the GPS in his cellphone, Braxton turned on a street in the edge of town, passing a few businesses and homes. A couple of turns later, they were back in the countryside heading south. Pine lined both sides of the road, rigidly planted in rows and devoid of other species. They looked sterile, almost lifeless. The guys came to a river and the woods along its banks looked lush, wild, full of dark hidden places, and they both looked at this landscape, feeling drawn to it.

Ninety minutes later, Braxton was pulling up to the hotel that sat just off the beach on Scenic Highway 98. The hotel faced the beach and the state park to its west giving it a sense of remove from the overdevelopment of souvenir shops, restaurants, hotels and beach rentals, and small shopping centers.

“We made it,” Oliver exclaimed as they climbed out and pulled down their bags.

“Let’s get checked in and down to the beach,” said Braxton.

“I agree.”

The lobby was too cool, goosebumps rising along their arms as they moved through it to the front desk. A few minutes later and a short ride up the elevator, Oliver was opening the door to the room they would be sharing. It was one of their budget constraints that allowed them to afford a full three weeks on the road. The room was cool with a soft pale green color and two queen size beds and through the French doors they saw the natural terrain of the state park, and to the south the turquoise waters of the gulf.

“Damn, this is nicer than I expected,” said Braxton following Oliver into the room.

“It should be. It is one of the most expensive rooms we’ll be paying for,” Oliver replied dropping his luggage on the floor. “Which bed do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter. Take that one and I’ll take this one,” pointing at the first bed coming into the room. “Let’s freshen up and get down to the beach.”

Braxton came out of the water, swim trunks clinging to his body, and Oliver was glad to have on sunshades that hid his eyes. He couldn’t take them off of Braxton. The muscular body and now the bulge of cock visible within the wet fabric. He pretended to be looking to his right down the beach but not turned enough he couldn’t watch Braxton come up to where they had an umbrella set up.

“Are you going in?” Braxton asked as he picked up his towel to dry off.

“Isn’t there like sharks and jellyfish and…”

“I didn’t see anything. The water is so clear you can see the bottom. Just drag your feet when you go out, so you don’t step on a stingray.”

“Stingray? I didn’t think about…”

“Oliver, relax and go for a swim.”

A group of guys came down from the hotel and set up nearby. Braxton stared at them causing Oliver to look around. There were five of them. Different heights, body structures and hair color. Two were blonde, but it was obvious one was from a dye job.

“Nice,” Braxton uttered, then looked down at Oliver smiling. “You think any of them would want to have some fun later?”

“One can dream,” Oliver replied, smiling back at Braxton. “Which one?”

“The guy with black hair.”

“I’ll take that natural blonde…no, the one with the dark red hair; that one.”

“Shit. I don’t think either of us has a chance.”

“Why?” Oliver replied, looking over his shoulder.

Five women in swimsuits were coming down the beach, laughing and joking around, and it was soon obvious they were going to join the five guys.

“I guess we’ll have to look elsewhere,” said Oliver looking back at the wide expanse of turquoise water and the nearly cloudless sky above.

The day progressed with Oliver eventually going for a swim with Braxton. They walked down the beach letting the surf wash around their feet and sat under the umbrella people watching, none more so than the guys strolling by shirtless. As the sun dropped in the western sky and people began to leave the beach, they slipped on their sandals and strolled around the park, following the nature trails, then the narrow-paved road that wound around campsites.

It was nearly six when Braxton and Oliver returned to the hotel, each grabbing a shower, then laying across their beds wearing just boxers. The room was cool, and the heat of the day and sun exposure had them feeling exhausted. Braxton set his alarm, agreeing they would nap for an hour or so, then head out somewhere for dinner, then drinks at a bar.

Braxton led Oliver out into the park following one of the trails. They walked slowly, appetites sated and enough alcohol in the system to relax them. To their right, the lights of civilization. The glaring lights of a convenience store, signs, and parking lots, all creating a white glow over the low development along the highway. To their left, just the moonlight reflecting off the dark calm waters of the Gulf.

“Do you really think we would have gotten hurt? If we…you know,” asked Oliver.

Braxton didn’t answer for the longest time, the two of them continuing to walk deeper into the park. They rounded a curve and came upon a couple walking their dogs. They greeted each other, then everyone continued on their way.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Why? Do you think I would have just left you behind…if we had had something?”

“But you would have had to.”

“What?”

Braxton didn’t respond, instead turned on a path that would take them back to the hotel.

“I have thought about it. What might have happened. What it could have been and each time…” said Oliver, his voice trailing off afraid to confess how he saw some fairy tale ending.

“Let’s try not to think of it and enjoy ourselves. Okay?”

“Okay,” Oliver replied to Braxton’s back as he followed him toward the hotel.

Oliver felt the tension. This thing between them. He saw Braxton felt it too. They were both wired up as they came into the hotel, and at the elevators having to wait on one to come back down, Oliver rocked on his feet feeling like he could take off running. The doors slid open to an empty cab and Braxton stepped in followed by Oliver. They stood in opposite corners, Braxton reaching to the panel pressing their floor number. The doors finally closed after what seemed an impossible long time. The elevator began to rise, and Braxton turned on Oliver, pushed him against the wall, pinning each arm against it as he kissed him.

In the room, they stood either side of the bed and watched each other undress. Shirts were tossed to the side, then shoes kicked off, socks flung after them. Jeans were undone and worked down until each stood in boxers looking at the other.

Oliver looked at Braxton, the flushed face and hair messed up, down along the muscular body until he was staring at the bulge of cock pressing outward on the front of the boxers.

Braxton did the same, looking the familiar face, the long neck, the lean body, down to the bulging boxers. The fly was gapped open, and he could see a sliver of thickening cock.

 “Fuck it,” Braxton whispered, and he worked the boxers down over his cock until loose around his thighs and he let them fall to the floor. Stepping out of them, he kicked them to the side and stood naked before Oliver. “Loose the shorts,” he uttered, then climbed on the bed on his hands and knees.

Oliver tugged them down until they could fall to his ankles. When he stood up to kick them off, Braxton was at the edge of the bed. He froze as Braxton moved closer, kissing his stomach. He held his breath as the lips touched his stomach, dragged over the skin until at the top edge of his pubic hair. His cock flexed and raised up harder, and the lips moved to its base. Fist balled up, the sensation of Braxton manipulating him, he felt the lips slide along his cock until they wrapped around the head.

“Fuck,” Oliver uttered as the lips slid down his cock enveloping it. The mouth was hot, slick, and the tongue was another sensation that made him gasp for air. He grew rock hard and began to work his hips, pushing cock deeper into Braxton’s mouth, then tugging outward, shivering as the tongue swirled over it.

Braxton pulled back and the two of them watched Oliver’s cock flex up and down. He turned his head to look up at Oliver.

“Do me. Fuck me, Oliver. Please,” said Braxton turning on the bed. Very quickly, he had his feet pushed against Oliver’s shoulders. He scooted back closer, knees bending and ass spreading open. “Fuck me. Don’t make me beg.”

Oliver took each leg behind the knee and pushed forward. He watched Braxton’s ass lift from the bed and open to him. He watched his cock touch it, wetly, smearing the slick over it as he pumped his hips. He felt his growing arousal, the surge of desire that was all consuming. He pushed the legs down and shoved forward. The squeeze on his cock made him cry out as he sunk inch after inch into Braxton.

Braxton moaned and shuddered beneath Oliver as he took it, until he felt the press of flesh against his ass and the fullness of the penetration.

“Goddamn it…fuck me,” Braxton uttered, then threw his head back breathing hard through his mouth.

Oliver pulled outward until only the head remained within the tightness, then he pushed inward again. Over and over, he tugged outward and pushed back in until the hole loosened around his cock and he was swinging his hips in a fuck. Faster and faster, until flesh smacked against flesh.

Braxton moaned and began to move, back arching as he pushed against Oliver as cock sank into his depths. He reached out, clutching at the bed, then took his cock in hand, stroking it furiously as the sound of flesh smacking flesh filled the room.

“Fuck. I’m going…” Oliver uttered as he hammered cock inside Braxton’s depths. He swung his hips with an urgency, smacking against the upturned ass. Then he shoved inward, all the way, and kept jamming his hips against Braxton as he came.

Then Oliver was standing by the bed, cock still hard dripping with its first release. He looked down at Braxton, body stretched out, cock hard as rock and the head wet, then he stepped back until Braxton’s bed bumped the back of his legs.

“Get over here and fuck me,” Oliver uttered. He turned and crawled on the bed and lay on his stomach. He reached back, spreading his cheeks revealing his puckered opening.

Braxton climbed to his feet and moved to his bed. He looked at the prone body with its narrow torso and round ass. He looked at the way the hands spread the cheeks. It revealed Oliver’s most private part of himself. He moved on the bed, crawled over the prone body, then dragged his wet, leaking cock along the crevice. It left a slick trail, and he worked his cock up and down until it glided over the wet skin. Then he pressed against the puckered opening. It was tight, resisting his penetration. Oliver moaned into the bed while holding his cheeks spread apart. Braxton pushed against the opening again, harder, more determined. He watched the head of his cock breach the tightness. He felt it too, the way it squeezed the head of his cock. He shivered with the feel of it, then pushed another inch into Oliver.

“OH, Braxton…put it in me,” Oliver uttered as he pushed upward with his hips.

Braxton sank inch after inch of his cock into the tight hole until his abdomen pressed tightly against the round ass. Then he began to fuck. To pull outward then drive back into Oliver’s depths. Over and over, he drove his cock in as far as he could. He smacked against the round ass. The feel of the impact, the brutal force of it spurned him to keep going.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me harder,” Oliver uttered.

But Braxton was too close, too aroused from being fucked then plunging his own cock inside Oliver, and he was soon jamming his cock into Oliver’s depths, slamming hips against ass trying to shove inward deeper as his cock erupted.

Spent and exhausted, Braxton fell next to Oliver, the two of them lying next to each other afraid to touch, to do some gesture of intimacy. Braxton lay on his back and Oliver rolled to his side facing the wall, and they drifted off into a restless sleep.

They spent three days in Destin, mornings on the beach until time for a late lunch, the afternoons exploring the area, driving to Seaside, and walking the beaches on Okaloosa Island. In the evenings they went to different restaurants, then to one of the bars where they mingled with other tourists. And each night they found themselves back in the hotel room on one bed then the other having sex. It was always the same. Physical sex, bodies exerting until sweaty and exhausted, but never any intimacy.

Oliver couldn’t imagine what it would take for there to be a relationship between them. For one or the other to make the move. He knew he would do it, if Braxton was willing, but he feared their time together was making up for a lost opportunity of their past and had no future.

In times when he found himself alone, Braxton tried to imagine it. The possibility of more. He would sacrifice his job and move without hesitation if Oliver would have him. The problem was one he had never been able to let go. He wasn’t good enough for Oliver. Oliver was smart, had a career, when he had a job and was going through the motions. He knew how crazy it seemed, when it was him that got hit on the most, but he also knew it was a superficial thing. His looks could carry him only so far, and he knew it. He knew he would only be a burden to Oliver, and somewhere out there was someone better, someone who could be more of an equal; Oliver just had to find them.

The Big Easy

On the fourth morning, their gear stowed in the rack above and the doors set in back, Braxton and Oliver headed west, toward New Orleans. They followed 98 along the coast, all the way to Gulf Breeze where they took the bay bridge over to Pensacola, picking up I-110 in the small city. Soon, they were on I-10, heading west.

Across Mobile Bay, through Mobile and southern Mississippi, Braxton drove west until they were finally pulling into the old city near the mouth of the Mississippi River. The day was hot, humid, and as they drove along Canal Street to their hotel, the sun was low in the western sky.

There had been little conversation, the two of them lost to their thoughts while watching the passing scenery. At the hotel, Oliver followed Braxton to the lobby sensing the difference in the place. The humidity seemed worse, the heat hanging low over the ground, and there was the scent of the place. Old, earthy, the old river nearby, mixed with the scent of humanity’s endeavors trying to tame the untamable.

Their gear stowed in the room, they went out exploring the old city center, Jackson Square only blocks from the hotel. They strolled along the old sidewalks side by side, on occasion bumping shoulders. They talked about the city, what each one knew of it, as they looked in shops and restaurants. The place had tourist milling about on every street, but it wasn’t like Destin, where they dominated the place. It was different here. The tourist were mere visitors, allowed to come into the old city, but they couldn’t possess it. No one could.

The restaurants were serious about their food. The selection, the way it was prepared, and how it was served. The smells filled the air, mixing Cajun, Creole and soul. Near Jackson Square, their appetites overwhelmed by the smell of it, they went into a small restaurant behind a storefront that looked two hundred years old. They ordered oysters, a gumbo that was spicy and filled with shrimp and crawfish, and to wash it down, strong cocktails that were sour and tart, adding to the experience of eating that was beyond mere consumption.

Back on the sidewalk, they looked around at the other pedestrians, people moving in waves in one direction or another. They had talked of going to one of the gay bars, but after their travel, then walking around the old city and finally a heavy dinner, they just stood on the sidewalk.

“Oliver, I’m kind of beat,” Braxton finally admitted.

“Me too. You want to just go back to the hotel and call it a night? We have two nights here to explore the bars.”

“Yes, let’s head back.”

There was no sex that night, instead they fell into separate beds and drifted off to sleep. As the city played late into the night Oliver and Braxton had vivid dreams of sex, of the other running from them, of finding themselves alone, Oliver in a dark room, Braxton on a deserted street.

Braxton opened his eyes to the morning light and saw Oliver standing at the window looking out.

“Good morning. You sleep well?” asked Braxton.

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

“You want to go get some breakfast, or do you want to sleep in longer?”

Braxton smiled, then rolled to his back. “I want to sleep a little longer. Is that okay?”

“Sure. I’m going down to that diner just up the street. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Okay,” Braxton replied, and he watched Oliver slip the hotel keycard, wallet, and cellphone into his pocket, then leave the room.

He wondered what it would be like in New Orleans as he stared at the ceiling. It seemed to tickle primitive urgings in a way that were enticing. He felt it, some charged nature to the place. Rolling to his side facing away from the bright sunlight, he fell back asleep thinking of Oliver, naked, begging him to fuck harder.

Oliver strolled along the nearly deserted sidewalk toward the small diner he had seen the night before. It was strange how even the city seemed to be still asleep, snoozing away, resting up for the evening, then the night. He felt like another opportunity slipped through his fingers last night. One more chance to be with Braxton, even if it were just sex to him.

The diner was busy, but the counter in back had several empty stools and Oliver slid on one. He ordered black coffee, and once the steaming cup was placed in front of him, he ordered breakfast. A television played cable news and his eyes were constantly drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. The red banner at the bottom of the screen giving one headline after the next while the images above played the top story of the morning. He wished he had brought a book to read to avoid the constant streaming of bad or sensational news, headlines meant to draw the viewer in and keep them watching.

Back at the hotel, he entered their room to the sound of the shower. The bathroom door was cracked open, and he could see into the mirror the blurred, fogged up image of Braxton soaping up. He was tempted to join him. He pictured it, stripping off his clothes and going in. He would ease in behind Braxton, run his hands over the soapy body pressing his own against it. It would lead to sex, the sex denied him last night. He saw Braxton rinsing off the suds and moved into the room sitting on his bed leaned back against a pillow.

Braxton came out wrapped in a towel and unceremoniously pulled it from his waist tossing it over a chair. Oliver watched as Braxton dug out boxers, slipping them on. Then a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and socks. Oliver flipped on the television and surfed through the channels as Braxton slipped on socks, then his shoes.

“There ain’t shit on,” said Braxton, not looking up.

“I know. What do you want to do?”

“I thought we were going to explore the city?”

“We are…when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Braxton said as he straightened his pant legs then sat up.

“Let’s go,” Oliver replied, shutting off the television.

They strolled through the Garden District and French Quarter. The ate lunch in the Quarter and browsed more of the shops, then Jackson Square to see the artists selling their work. It was near the end of the day when they found themselves in Woldenberg Park, walking the paths that ran along its length facing out on the Mississippi River.

“You want to go back to the hotel and take a nap before dinner?” asked Oliver.

“That sounds good. I could use it.”

“It is so hot and humid; I’d like to cool off and rest some before going out.”

“After dinner, we can check out one of the bars.”

The bar was typical. Dark interior, dimly lit, hiding the rough edges. Those of the interior and of the patrons. It played to the fantasy, a place to find the perfect man, whatever one’s definition of such a specimen. Oliver followed Braxton from the bar, each with a drink, as they made a circle around the interior checking out the place and the guys already there. He saw the looks Braxton got, the eyes that followed him, the smiles and gestures meant to capture Braxton’s attention. The fact he could be construed to be with Braxton didn’t seem to faze some of the guys. It made him feel a jealously that was juvenile, something he had been guilty when they were teenagers and the girls flirted with Braxton constantly, completely ignoring him. The blatant way some guys flirted with Braxton made him think of all those times he felt inadequate.

“Let’s sit over there,” said Braxton, pointing to a table with four chairs near the pool tables.

The bar became more crowded as the night wore on. Oliver bought a couple of rounds and Braxton was going to the bar to get the second of rounds he was buying. Oliver watched him move through the guys with eyes following him. He saw one, then another, trying to get Braxton’s attention. At the bar, Braxton was leaned against it waiting for the bartender, two guys came up to him, one on either side. Oliver watched them flirt with Braxton feeling anxious, jealous of how easy it was for him. 

Braxton headed back to their table, a drink in each hand, with Paul and Dale following him. They were persistent, unwilling to let him go. He smiled when one made a joke, and he smiled with each flirtatious comment. He led them through the crowd until he saw Oliver looking his way. It brought him up short. Oliver had an expression he could read even in the dim light. He was jealous, and Braxton knew it looked as if he would ditch him for one of the guys in tow. When Oliver met his eyes, he smiled, shrugging his shoulders, as if to say it was all a joke the way the guys were flirting with him. Oliver smiled back, but it was obviously forced.

At the table, Braxton took the chair next to Oliver instead of the one on the opposite side. Paul and Dale didn’t hesitate to sit down despite the look given them from Oliver.

“Hi, you’re Oliver, right? I’m Dale, and this is Paul.”

“Hey,” Paul added then turned back to Braxton.

Oliver knew how the night would proceed. He had been with friends who were like Braxton before. Attractive with masculine bodies, the kind that lured the guys to them without effort.

Braxton lay on his bed, naked, Paul sucking his cock. Somehow, they had ditched Dale, and now he wished he had ditched Paul. He looked over at the other bed and felt his own jealously rear its ugly head. It was a new emotion for him. He didn’t think he had ever felt it before. Even so, he knew it. Felt the heat rise to his face and his heart race with his emotions. He watched what was happening, and knew he was being hypocritical as he felt his cock sink into Paul’s mouth all the way. There was a tug on his sac, then fingers trailing down until touching him. He spread his legs, unconscious of his movements, as he looked at the scene unfolding on the other bed.

Braxton looked at the tall blonde lying beneath Oliver. He heard the Cajun accent, the guttural utterances begging Oliver to fuck harder, faster. Xavier, from Tribodaux. Jesus, he thought, what an exotic name from an exotic place.

Xavier had come to their table while he was dancing with Paul and Dale. He had seen the approach, not believing for a minute the tall blonde was going to their table to talk to Oliver. But there had been the greeting, then the arms folded across the table as he had leaned on it, closing the distance between them. Oliver had looked shocked, then surprised. Then he looked pleased, like a boy in the candy aisle and a pocket full of money.

Jazz music penetrated the walls and window, blending with the sounds of sex. Paul slurping on Braxton’s cock. Xavier begging Oliver to fuck him as hips smacked against ass. Braxton watched Oliver move. Watched the lean body undulating with the rhythm of its fuck. It was such a primitive movement, like a serpent. The bed began to squeak and rock and suddenly Oliver seemed to be engulfed in arms and legs as Xavier wrapped him up and pulled their bodies together. 

Braxton felt a fury, a jealously he didn’t know if he could control. He pushed Paul off his cock and forced him over on his stomach. He moved with urgency of the predator ready for the kill. He was on Paul quickly. He held the back of the neck and pushed Paul down on the bed as he worked his hips. His cock slid along the crevice until it was wet with his slick. Paul reached back and spread his cheeks. A muffled plea and Braxton grabbed him by the hair pulling his head up.

“What did you say?” Braxton barked.

“Fuck me. Fuck me…please.”

Braxton looked to the next bed in time to see Xavier sit on Oliver’s cock. It disappeared so easily, Xavier dropping down all the way. Then Xavier was fucking his ass on it. Up. Down. Over and over. Braxton turned to the body beneath him, and he penetrated it, sinking all the way in one hard push. Paul bucked up, cried out, then lay still as Braxton hammered cock into his depths.

Oliver felt as if in a fog. The room closed in around him and not even Braxton fucking that asshole Paul could interfere with him now. Xavier was on top, ass moving up and down on his cock. The tight opening stroking him, head down to base, where ass bounced off his hips. Xavier with his Cajun accent had been too much. First the shock of Xavier coming to his table, then openly flirting. There was the touch on his hand, then the grazing stroke of his forearm, the whispering in his ear with the hot exhale of breath, and finally the moving up next to him. The tall lean body seemed to envelop him blocking out the room around them. It even blocked out Braxton and Paul.

Oliver glanced over and saw Braxton pounding Paul, hammering cock into his ass. Paul was face down on the bed moaning whorishly as Braxton held him down. It was a rough fuck, physical, brutal, lacking any intimacy, and Oliver still felt jealous. He turned to Xavier and watched him lean back, the torso stretched out, skin glistening wetly in the dim light, and begin to fuck again. Ass moved up, then down, over and over. Xavier’s cock flopped heavily against stomach, leaving wet smears with each impact. Oliver realized their fuck was just as physical in its own way. He held Xavier by the ankles and pushed upward as ass came down. Their bodies smacked together noisily, the sound of it echoing in the room. It was louder than Braxton and Paul.

“Fuck,” Xavier cried out, and he came, cock spurting cum over his torso, then down on Oliver. He shot huge wads that flew in all directions. The air reeked of cum.

Oliver felt his own need for release. He raised up, flipped Xavier to his back, and pushed him down on the bed. Hands behind the knees of the long legs, he folded him in half, burying each knee into the mattress by the lean body. Then he shoved every inch of his cock back into him and fucked. Hard, a furious pace. He bounced off the upturned ass and the bed protested beneath them. Xavier howled, then begged for him to cum.

“Fuck…take it…take it,” Braxton cried out from the other bed.

Oliver barely perceived Braxton exclamation, as he hammered cock into the depths of Xavier’s ass. He thrust with a stamina he didn’t know he possessed, riled up by Braxton and so horny he didn’t know if he could stop. Sweat rained down on Xavier as he gasped for breath. His muscles burned with his exertions. Fingers grazed his flexing stomach, and he became aware of the slickness of his skin. And its heat with every hot touch.

“Oliver,” Xavier whispered.

Oliver looked down and saw the person for the first time since they began to fuck. He saw the flush face, wet with sweat. He saw the blue eyes, pleading with him. He saw the way Xavier was gasping for breath. He remembered how he wanted to please Xavier for noticing him. He wanted to give him what he wanted. Then he felt it, the surge of release.

The morning arrived far too soon, and Oliver started to roll to his back when he felt the body spooned to his back. It was long and lean, cocooning him, and he remembered. He lay still wondering how long it would be before Xavier woke. Voices from the other bed, muffled, hushed too low to understand. Then he heard someone get off the bed.

“Fine, I’m going. It was fun, but you really need to work on that bedside manner,” said Paul.

There was movement, shuffling around, then the door opened and closed. Braxton exhaled in a manner Oliver recognized, then climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door.

“Xavier?”

“Yes.”

“You ready to get up?”

“You want me to leave?”

“Last night was fun and…would you? Please?”

Xavier chuckled, then rolled away. “Okay, I’ll get out of here. It was fun. I’m glad we crossed paths. If you see me out, please don’t be shy about approaching me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Oliver replied sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He watched Xavier pick up his clothes, not shy in moving around naked. But then again, after last night, Oliver realized there was no reason to be shy now.

Xavier got dressed, came to the bed, and lifted Oliver’s head by the chin. He leaned down and kissed him, gently, lips barely touching. “Thanks. Last night was nice.” Then he was gone.

It was nearly noon by the time Oliver was showered and dressed. Braxton waited in the lobby reading the newspaper that was free to the guests. When the elevator doors slid open, Oliver moved to him, wondering how things would be between them. He had been so jealous of Paul, still was, but Xavier gave him a diversion from it that had been pleasant surprise. But as he crossed the lobby to where Braxton sat, he saw the look. It was like the night before and he struggle to accept how it looked as if Braxton was jealous of him and Xavier. Braxton had two guys working him, and a few others who tried to get his attention. At night’s end, Braxton had to send Dale packing, choosing Paul for the night, but all the way back to the hotel he sensed it. The glaring looks and occasionally a snide comment aimed at Xavier.

“Hey, you ready to grab lunch somewhere?” asked Oliver as he came to the edge of the rug that defined the small sitting area.

“Yes, I’m starving,” Braxton replied bluntly as he climbed to his feet, tossing the newspaper on the armchair.

It was late, nearly nine o’clock before they were led to a table for dinner. They had taken an architectural tour of New Orleans, then came back to the French Quarter to continue their exploration of its streets. There conversations were short, superficial, and by day’s end it was tiring for Oliver to the point he wanted to go back to the hotel room.

Braxton realized how it looked, how he was being selfish, jealous of Oliver doing what he had done. They were on vacation, out to have a good time, and if he could set aside his petty jealously, it was obvious they were having a good time. But no matter how much he told himself this, he never could get the image of Xavier going to their table out of his head, or the image of Oliver on his back and Xavier riding his cock.

Braxton apologized, then told Oliver Xavier had been a hot fuck, and he would have done him. It made Oliver smile, then turn away embarrassed at how he had felt the night before.

Dinner took nearly three hours for they talked about their trip, and how New Orleans really was the Big Easy, making Oliver laugh far too loud. They had cocktails after dinner, then finally a dessert, so that by the time they had paid and were leaving it was midnight.

“I’m going back to the hotel for I’m beat. Go on out if you want,” said Oliver, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

Braxton looked down the crowded sidewalk, then up at the humid night, insects fluttering in the streetlights. He took a deep breath realizing he had no desire to go out either.

“I’m tired too. Let’s head on back.”

They walked in silence, both sated and exhausted after a long night and a day playing tourists. At the hotel they went straight to the elevators, and once on their floor, straight to their room. Oliver showered first and when he came out wrapped in a towel, Braxton was standing at the window in just boxers. He looked at the masculine body, one so familiar and wondered if they would ever have sex again.

“The bathroom is free,” Oliver uttered as he went to his bag to get boxers to put on.

“OH, okay,” Braxton replied. He crossed the room and disappeared in the bathroom just as Oliver pulled the towel away. When Braxton finally came out, Oliver was asleep in his bed.

The next morning, they checked out, then strolled into the French Quarter for an early lunch. Afterward they walked around for about an hour, then headed back to the hotel to get the Jeep. It was packed up ready to go.

“How long will it take to drive to Memphis?” asked Oliver as he climbed into the Jeep.

“Depends on whether or not you want to stop in Oxford and check out that bookstore.”

“How far out of the way would it be?”

“Maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Let’s stop then. We shouldn’t be over an hour, I don’t think.”

“Then we should be in Memphis by nine or so.”

“That late?”

“We have nowhere we need to be. I’ll just call the hotel and let them know we’ll be late.”

The Blues

They took I-10 west, and on the far side of Lake Pontchartrain, swung off on I-55 heading north. The interstate would take them out of Louisiana, through Mississippi and into Memphis.

Despite their talking it out, there lingered a disquiet between them. Oliver would glance over at Braxton, wondering if he would do the same in Memphis and other cities they were going to visit. Would each night be just another opportunity to hook up with someone? He knew if Braxton did flirt with others, he could easily do the same. He could find someone who wanted to be with him. If only for one night.

Braxton saw the glances, the quick looks by Oliver and he wondered. Could they really be back to normal, knowing the truth. No, they were not back to normal. The joking around, the flippant comments, and the easy conversation had not happened since that night. He wanted Oliver back, the person he considered his closest friend, and when honest, there was the knowledge he wished for more.

It was after nine when Jeep pulled up to the front of the hotel. Oliver seemed to fall out of it and Braxton climbed down slowly. He stretched, feeling stiff from riding all day.

“Grab us a cart and I’ll get our stuff down,” said Braxton, stepping back up on the step and working the carrier on top open.

Once the Jeep was unloaded, Oliver pushed the cart behind Braxton who headed to the front desk to check them in. It only took a few minutes, and Braxton was heading to the elevator while Oliver went to park the Jeep.

The room overlooked downtown, with its neon signs and streets crowded with people out for drinks and music and a good time. The dark starry sky seemed like a dome over the city, close enough one could touch it if only you could fly high enough. Higher than Icarus. Even from the hotel window, Oliver sensed it, the vibration of music that filled the many bars and music venues and filtered out to the streets. He went into the bathroom to freshen up. He was ready, despite his fatigue, to go out there, into this city of blues. He felt it calling him.

Braxton tugged off his t-shirt and jeans, then headed to the bathroom.

“Give me ten minutes and we can go find something to eat. I feel so grubby I have to take a shower,” said Braxton as he went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

They walked only a couple of blocks before entering one of many restaurants. It was busy, like all the others they passed, but the smell of bar-be-cue made their stomachs growl. The sweet-smelling aroma filled the air, and they ordered as soon as the waitress came to their table. They talked of going somewhere to listen to a band. When they found themselves back on the sidewalk, both yawning and feeling tired, they called it a night, heading back to the hotel.

In the room, both stripped to boxers, it was obvious there still existed an inhibition between them. They couldn’t look at the other, both diverting their eyes. They didn’t want to see the other stripped down. It was too much of a temptation, one neither seemed able to overcome.

Braxton knew it was crazy. He felt jealous about Oliver hooking up when he himself did the same thing. But it was Oliver, the person who was shy, less confident. The person who was supposed to be there waiting.

Oliver was conflicted. He had to admit he liked Braxton, liked him in a manner he tried not to dwell on too long. Seeing guys flirt with Braxton made him feel pushed to the side, not important in Braxton’s life. To see him go further, to hook up with another guy, especially after Destin was too much. The only comfort, despite being superficial, was his own hookup.

With the light turned out, the two of them lay in the darkness with the air conditioner drowning out all outside noise while they dwelled on their predicament.

For two days, they toured downtown, strolling down the redeveloped streets with some buildings still holding on to their past glory. They found areas not overwhelmed with tourist, with better food and music venues playing blues not meant for entertaining tourists, but played for the baring of the soul, songs that spoke to hardships, betrayals, and lost love. Sitting in the back in a dark corner they listened to the songs and drank cold beer until late into the night.

They had an unspoken truce. There were no gay bars or clubs visited late at night. There was no flirting with the guys they crossed paths, either on the sidewalks, or in a restaurant, or just strolling one of the small parks in town. And each night, back in the hotel room, there was the simple routine of getting ready for bed, turning out the lights, and waiting for sleep.

On the third morning they were packing up to leave. Oliver came out of the bathroom, dressed, toweling his hair one more time. Braxton stood by his bed stuffing his toiletries into his duffel bag. He had on jeans but no shirt. It hung over a chair waiting to be put on. Oliver tried not to look, but he scanned the familiar body, the muscular structure of it with its smooth skin. The memory of that body against his own rose vivid in his mind, and he turned away, pulling out his bag to pack up his own toiletries.

“When we get to Nashville, I need to wash a few clothes,” said Braxton.

“I could go another day or two, but it would be nice to have everything clean again,” Oliver replied, not looking around.

“You want to hang around here for a while and have lunch before we hit the road?”

“Let’s hit the road. It’s about three hours, right?”

“Yep.”

“It’s nine now. If we’re on the road in the next thirty minutes we can have lunch in Nashville.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to leave too.”

A New Day

Oliver followed Braxton out of the elevator. Luggage put in their room, they were heading back out for lunch. They had driven around a few blocks to get a feel for the place and spotted a place for lunch that was two blocks down the street. He thought how the streets looked so similar to Memphis with large garish signs for restaurants, bars, and gift shops. But there was something different about the place. Something that didn’t feel oppressive. He knew that feeling had more to do with the situation between Braxton and him, but Memphis seemed to reflect it back at them. Sitting in those dark bars hearing the music seemed an amplifier to the way he felt.

Nashville was country music, The Grand Ole Opera, and bars serving Tennessee whiskey and Kentucky bourbon. Some of the music was like the blues, but some of it was about happier times, loves found, and the image of a rural life.

Oliver followed Braxton into the cool interior of the restaurant, where they were seated in a booth along the back wall. The restaurant was busy, the interior a white noise of voices, the rustling of the wait staff, and the sounds of cooking from the kitchen. They ordered drinks and food, and once served settled down to enjoy it.

Braxton finished first, sitting back and watching Oliver eat.

“Do you like me?” asked Braxton.

“What?” Oliver looked up surprised. “Yes, you’re my best friend.”

“Not like that,” said Braxton, leaning forward, closing the distance between them. “Do you really like me? You know.”

Yes, Oliver knew what Braxton referred, but he struggled to admit it, afraid of Braxton’s reply.

“I, huh, well…”

“Come on, Oliver. Tell me.”

“Tell you what? That yes, I like you, then you tell me you don’t think of me that way. Or that it won’t work. Or…” Oliver fell silent, unsure what else to say.

“If there were no distance between us, do you think things would be different?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Braxton, look at us,” Oliver replied, nodding his head toward the mirrored wall that ran along the back of the booths. “You can have anyone you want. All you have to do is just stand at a bar or come into a room and the guys flock to you.”

“Oliver…they are so superficial most of the time. Just looking for another notch in the bedpost.”

“Don’t we do it too...sometimes?”

Braxton leaned back, nodding his head. “Yes, all of us have at one time or another.”

“Look, I know I have a confidence problem, that I’m too shy and should be more forthcoming. New Orleans proved that.”

“But you still think you’re not good enough? For Me?”

“No, not really. I know we could have been different. Maybe if we had been more open back in high school.”

“Can I get you anything else,” the waiter asked as he approached their table.

“I’ll take a refill: sweet tea, and you can bring the check,” Oliver replied, then looking at Braxton. “You want anything else? Dessert?”

“No, I’m good.”

Back on the sidewalk, they headed toward the main section of downtown.

“Hey, let’s put aside what we were talking about and just enjoy the day. Okay?” asked Oliver, circling around in front of Braxton.

“Okay,” Braxton replied, playfully pushing Oliver to the side.

They strolled block after block, going into stores, grabbing ice cream, then strolling the walks on the Cumberland River. By the time the sun was below the western horizon, the sky darkening quickly, they were finally entering a restaurant for dinner.

It was nearly ten when they left the restaurant, coming out to find the night still warm. The sidewalks were busy, and music could be heard escaping from one open door or another.

“Should we check out a band?” asked Oliver.

“Sure, but you pick,” replied Braxton. He liked some of the country music but knew Oliver not so much.

A couple of blocks up the street, Oliver led them into a stillery and music venue. The front bar area was crowded, but once they got a drink and to the back, they found the back room opened up. There was a stage on the far wall, and the floor stepped down to it, giving nearly everyone in the room a good view. The band was three members and were doing a final check. The lights dimmed and the stage lights brightened. The drummer began, then the others and soon the room was full of sound.

The band played and Oliver and Braxton stood side by side listening to them. Drinks finished, Braxton went for their second round and sometime later, Oliver went for the third.

Oliver went into the hotel room first, face flush feeling as if he had a fever. He moved quickly into the room then stood at the foot of the Braxton had chosen, unsure of his next move.

Braxton closed the door, stood in the small foyer area looking at Oliver. He needed to step into the bathroom and felt it would give them some time. It seemed things were happening too fast. The near argument coming back, then the kiss in the elevator. It was an emotional rollercoaster, and he didn’t know how far he could go.

He stood at the toilet, a heavy stream hitting the water, while wondering what was keeping them apart. The distance was an excuse, nothing more. He looked in the mirror and for a moment, saw the sadness in his face. The fear of finding himself alone, and worse, the fear of losing Oliver forever if he let things continue. There was no middle ground. No compromise that could be reached.

Braxton came out to find Oliver still standing at the foot of his bed. He looked confused, scared, and when their eyes met, he turned away.

‘Fuck’ Braxton thought, then he moved on him. He came up fast, grabbed him by the arms and spun him around. He shoved him back on his bed and climbed over him. Predator capturing prey. Man wrestling with man. Lover on top of lover. He moved quickly with determination until hovering over him. Face to face, eyes locked on the other. Braxton saw it, how Oliver looked scared.

“Do you like me?” Braxton whispered.

Oliver nodded his head.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Oliver shook his head, then in a barely audible voice. “No.”

Braxton hovered over Oliver and only touched him with his lips. A kiss. Just a kiss. It lasted a long time, changing only in how they kissed. Lips together. Mouths open. Tongues dueling. But it started with just the kiss.

Braxton unbuttoned Oliver’s shirt, spread it open, kissing his way down the neck, the chest, over to one nipple then the other. He undid Oliver’s jeans, tugged them open as he moved down, lips touching the heaving stomach, then just above the boxers. There was too much in the way. Far too many clothes, and he rose on knees and stripped Oliver, tossing the garments carelessly on the floor.

Braxton moved between the legs, kissed the abdomen, then the hardening cock. He kissed the head, then along the growing length. He buried his nose in the pubic hair, licked at the loose sac feeling the nuts move around with his manipulations. He saw Oliver’s hands grab at the bed, fist tight until knuckles turned white, and he reached out and held each one as he slipped his lips over the head of Oliver’s cock and pushed them down its length until it filled his mouth.

Oliver bucked upward, shoved cock deeper, until Braxton felt he would choke. He moved up and over the cock, letting Oliver piston it in his mouth.

“Fuck,” Oliver uttered, then moaned as Braxton took every upward thrust.

When Oliver fell still, Braxton moved his head up and down, keeping up the sensations. Oliver shuddered and cried out. He ran his hands through Braxton’s hair, then rubbed one cheek feeling it bulge out as Braxton moved down on his cock.

Oliver grew close, his arousal increasing quickly, and he pushed Braxton off his cock. “Not yet,” he uttered, breathing hard, and his cock flexing up and down. When Braxton stood on knees between his legs, Oliver rolled over to his stomach. He looked over his right shoulder with hunger in his eyes.

“Braxton…please. Fuck me,” Oliver uttered, then held his head down.

Braxton crawled over Oliver, worked his hips to drag his cock over the round ass, then pushed it along the crevice.

Oliver reached back and spread his cheeks. The cock rubbed the exposed flesh, up and down. It stroked his desires, made him bury his face in the mattress and push his ass up increasing the feel of cock against it.

Braxton couldn’t hold back any longer. The way Oliver responded to him, to see that round ass lift up, and push against his cock. He wanted to feel his cock penetrating it. He wanted to feel the tightness around his cock as he bore into Oliver’s depths. He pressed the head against the tight opening and felt it push back.

“Do it. Do it,” Oliver repeated, his voice muffled in the bedding.

Braxton breached the tight opening and pushed through it. He felt the tightness around his cock, milking the shaft as he pushed into Oliver’s depths. Then he began a slow fuck. A painfully slow drag of cock outward, feeling every inch move through the tight opening. Then a slow push back in. Over and over, he worked his cock through the tight opening until he felt it loosen, allowing him to slip through easily. He kicked Oliver’s legs further apart, shifted his position, and began to fuck harder, faster, driving his cock into Oliver’s depths. He bounced off the round ass, the sound of flesh smacking against flesh echoing in the room.

Oliver tried to lift himself up, but Braxton dropped down on him, held him down, arm around the neck, as he drilled cock into his depths. He ground his hips against the round ass, worked them to piston his cock within the hot hole, until he was close.

“NO!” Braxton exclaimed, pulling out of Oliver, and rolling over to his back. “Not yet,” he uttered breathlessly.

Oliver moved on him, straddled his waist, and while looking into his eyes, sat down on his cock. Braxton watched Oliver move, up then down, increasing the pace of their fuck.

Oliver knew Braxton was close, but he didn’t want to slow down. He moved on Braxton’s cock until it seemed to bore into the center of his being. He leaned back, took his own cock in hand and began to move his hips up and down. He plunged his ass down so hard once again the sound of flesh smacking flesh echoed in the room. It spurned him on, and he moved faster, rougher, taking every inch of Braxton. The threw his head back with eyes closed and sprayed his chest and stomach with cum. Cock flexing in his fist, he pumped out every drop while not slowing. Hands took his ankles, the grip tight, then he felt the shove up, hard, rocking his hips upward. He knew Braxton was coming, and he pushed down to take every inch of the spurting cock in his hole.

Oliver sat up, then lay on Braxton. He hugged the sweaty heaving body and rolled to his back.

“Keep fucking. Come on, do it,” Oliver begged.

Braxton ground his still hard cock in Oliver’s depths until he felt renewed. Then he lifted himself up on his hands and began to fuck.

For three days, they played tourist in the city, visiting the different venues, taking a tour, and hanging out in bars. And each night, they came back to the hotel and fell into bed. Their sex was physical, desperate, bordering on uncontrollable. They fucked until exhausted, and slept intertwined in one bed or the other. The next morning whoever woke first initiated sex, toying with the other until fully aroused.

But they didn’t talk about it, not really. There were joking, snide comments during the day, off-the-cuff remarks that elicited a laugh or derisive reply. But the seriousness of their relationship they returned to their avoidance of discussing it.

A View from the Top

Oliver behind the wheel, Braxton in the passenger seat, they pulled out of the parking lot before eight o’clock in the morning. They drove out to the perimeter loop picking up I-40, heading east. The early morning air felt cool compared the usual day time heat they had been getting accustomed, and they relaxed in their seats and let it swirl around the cabin and ruffle their shirts. The traffic was coming into the city, and they sped out in the opposite direction on their way to the Smoky Mountains. Their destination was Cades Cove, a historic valley of old homes, barns, churches, and a grist mill.  They would take the interstate to near Knoxville before exiting, where they would head south into the mountains. 

Lunch at a roadside dinner, they entered the park shortly after one. They didn’t have time to see everything, but they moved around the loop road, stopping at all the cabins, churches and eventually the site with the grist mill. By the time they made the loop and were back at the entrance it was late in the day, the sun dropped below the ridge of mountains in the west. Townsend was to the northeast, and Braxton navigated the twisting mountain roads until they were driving into the small town. They found their hotel and got checked in. They walked across the street to a restaurant that advertised fresh trout from the mountains. Nearing ten o’clock, they entered their hotel room, both exhausted and feeling grubby.

“You want to shower first?” asked Oliver sitting on one bed. He turned on the television, then turned to see Braxton standing at the bathroom door staring back. “What?”

Braxton smiled. “Come scrub my back. I’ll do yours.”

Oliver laughed as he climbed to his feet. “That might be all you get from me tonight. I’m beat.”

“Me too, but come on, shower with me,” Braxton replied.

There was something to his moment. It wasn’t overtly sexual and there were no expectations. Their stay in Nashville had shown a change in their relationship. They stayed together, even in bars, Braxton ignoring the other guys. And their sex grew more intimate, even though neither could admit it. Oliver stripped in the room watching Braxton do the same, then followed him into the small bathroom. Once the shower ran hot, steam quickly filling the room, he stepped into the shower behind him.

At first all they did was bath each other. Soapy bath clothes rubbed over skin making it feel clean. Hands following it, rubbing over its smooth slick surface. Aching muscles relaxed and soon cocks grew half hard.

Braxton pushed Oliver against the wall and held him by the chin. “Don’t say anything; okay?” Oliver nodded in agreement then closed his eyes as Braxton leaned down and kissed him.

Lips touched lips, necks, ears, and along shoulders. Slick hands moved over chests, stomachs, down backs, and over round ass cheeks. Bodies rubbed against each other or pressed one against the wall.

Their movements were slow, lazy, and so gentle as to be ticklish.

In the end, Braxton leaned against the tiled wall holding Oliver in his arms.

“Let’s get dried off and into bed,” Braxton whispered.

Bodies intertwined in deep sleep. The night passed with the outside hushed to silence by the soft whirring sound of the air conditioner. Oliver woke to find them face to face, Braxton’s arms holding him. For a long time he watched him sleep, then finally wake.

“Good morning,” Braxton whispered, and thus began another day.

They drove east along the ridge of some mountains until they came to 441, then headed south. The road twisted and turned along the mountain ridges and valleys. They stopped at overlooks and took pictures. There was no rush to get to their destination. They had all day, so Oliver drove slowly allowing the two of them to admire the landscape. The beauty of the mountains and the valleys between them. They came into Cherokee and stopped only for gas, not caring about the tourist focused shops and businesses. Turning on 19, they headed east once again, the road passing other businesses and the casino that fueled the local economy.

The road took them through small communities and towns. At Maggie Valley they saw development increased along the road. Braxton noticed Oliver sat up and they drove with the faster traffic until I-40 was near, and Oliver jumped on the interstate to finish their drive into Asheville.

Their hotel was in downtown and Oliver pulled into the drop off area at front.

“Let’s get checked in and go grab lunch somewhere. I’m starving,” said Oliver as he climbed up to pull down their luggage.

“Me too.,” replied Braxton.

Everything up in their room and the Jeep parked in the deck, Braxton and Oliver made their way across the street. They walked a block finding multiple options. Oliver pulled Braxton into the next restaurant, impatient to get something to eat.

The waiter set their drinks on the table and took their food order. As he headed to the kitchen, Oliver leaned back and stretched his arms out to his sides.

“God, I’m beat,” said Oliver.

“Me too. Glad we’re staying here for the rest of our time.”

“Me too. The road trip was fun, but I’m ready to rest up.”

“I bet you’ll be ready to get home and back to a normal routine by the end of the week,” Braxton uttered, looking across the dining room.

Oliver looked at Braxton’s profile, wondering if he meant more than he was saying.

“It’ll nice to be able to sleep in my own bed, but…” said Oliver, hesitating until Braxton looked at him. “But I’ll miss you.”

Braxton smiled but Oliver saw the sadness in the eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”

“Really?” asked Oliver before he could stop himself.

“Oliver, of course. I…”

Oliver waited, wanted Braxton to say more, but knew there would be nothing more said.

“If we had been open, back in high school, do you think we might have been together? You know, maybe a couple. You think I would have ever been enough for you?” asked Oliver.

“What? Of course. It’s just…”

“What?”

“I would never been the type of person you wanted.”

“Braxton, what do you mean? How do you know what I wanted? We never discussed it.”

“You know. You went to college and…”

“So, fucking what. And you went into the Navy. That is nothing to sneeze at. We went different paths and now…”

“Now, look at us?”

Oliver chuckled at the absurdity of it, two grown men still afraid to say what they were feeling.

“What’s so funny?”

“Us. The two of us,” Oliver replied. “Braxton will you answer something for me?”

“Yes; anything.”

“Anything,” Oliver whispered, knowing the lie of it for the two of them. He leaned over the table with hands clasped together in front of him. “Ignoring the obvious issues of the distance between where we live, if given the chance, would you date me? Seriously, could you see yourself going out with someone like me?”

“Of course. Oliver, I…” Braxton froze, the admission on his lips.

“You what?”

Braxton sat back, lower his head. Without looking up he replied, “I love you. Okay, I said it.”

“If I were to quit my job and move to Denver, would you…”

“You can’t quit your job. You’ve worked too hard for that position, and I doubt anything in Denver could match it.”

“Forget that for a minute. If the opportunity were there for us to be together, could you really accept it?”

Braxton smiled, this time the eyes reflected it. “Yes. But what about you? Can you handle dating a dumb jock?”

“Braxton, don’t joke like that, and yes.”

“But the fact is, I’m in Denver and you’re…”

“Let’s not discuss it anymore for the time being. Okay?”

Braxton nodded his head, then looked at the movement to his side seeing it was the waiter with their order.  “Our food is here, so I guess we can drop it for now.”

After paying the check, Braxton followed Oliver out to the sidewalk, across the street, and into the hotel lobby. He followed him to the elevator, stepping into the cab with an older couple.

“…let’s do Biltmore tomorrow before the rain moves in, then we can do something in town the next day,” said the woman, as the doors closed.

Oliver stood in the corner with Braxton in front of him.

“Okay. Do you want to do that behind-the-scenes tour too?” the man asked.

Oliver reached out and touched Braxton on the lower back just above the jeans. Braxton stepped back a half step.

“OH, yes. We didn’t do it last time and Shelley said we really must do it next time,” the woman replied.

Oliver raked his fingers back and forth, rubbing Braxton’s back.

The bell rang and the doors opened to the seventh floor. The couple stepped out, still deep in conversation about their vacation plans. When the doors closed, Braxton spun around, pushed Oliver against the wall, and kissed him.

The door hadn’t closed when Oliver began to tug on Braxton’s clothes. They stumbled into the room, pulling at the other’s clothes. Braxton was too rough, and buttons flew from Oliver’s shirt. In no time, both were naked, kissing and touching and rubbing against the other. Oliver pushed Braxton onto the bed and fell on top of him. Bodies undulated, hands moved over exposed flesh and down between them manipulating cocks until rock hard.

“Fuck,” Braxton exclaimed as he rolled Oliver to his back. He moved over him kissing the chest, tonguing one then the other nipple, then dragged lips up the long neck until they were kissing once again.

“Braxton…fuck me,” Oliver uttered as he brought up his knees spreading himself open. He felt Braxton’s cock rub along his abdomen beside his own cock, then with a shift down, the cock rubbed one thigh then rubbed wetly along his ass. He moaned and shivered with the manipulation, then clung to Braxton with a desperation. “Fuck me,” he pleaded.

Oliver reached between them, took Braxton in hand and held him to his tight opening. “Please,” he uttered.

Braxton pushed against the tightness until he felt the squeeze on his cock as it penetrated Oliver. He pushed, slowly, savoring the feel of it, each inch that slipped through the tightness. He pushed until every inch was inside Oliver and he ground his hips against him, trying to get deeper. He took Oliver’s hands and held him down. He pushed the hands down and pushed himself up, then began to fuck. A slow tug outward, then a push inward. Over and over, until his pace was steady. The bed rocked gently underneath them as he thrust into Oliver’s depths.

“I love you,” Braxton whispered, once again making the confession he had struggled with for so long.

Braxton held himself up on his hands and stared down at Oliver. He saw a lascivious look, one lost to their desires, and he moved to increase them, fucking faster, driving into Oliver’s depths. He fucked until Oliver was moaning and he saw the lean body shudder. He fucked until Oliver began to undulate beneath him, a primitive movement focused around the hips. He felt how Oliver took his cock, made every penetrating push intense. Every sensation seemed centered on his cock. He shuddered as it slipped free, then breached the opening again as he pushed inward.

Oliver cried out, clutching the bed as he pushed against Braxton. He felt every penetrating push inward. The fullness of each one. Braxton moved between his legs, and the contact was hot and slick. Every place skin touched skin burned with their exertions.

“Don’t stop,” Oliver uttered as he felt his own arousal, his hard cock laying heavily on his stomach.

Braxton increased his pace, thrust into Oliver’s depths with the last of his strength. He fucked until he gasped for breath, then shoved inward all the way and came.

Laying on Oliver, Braxton felt the hard cock stabbing his stomach, and he rolled to the side and got on his elbows and knees.

“Come on, Oliver. Stick me…put it in me,” Braxton begged.

He wanted Oliver, wanted to feel him inside his body. He closed his eyes and felt the bed rock, then Oliver between his legs. A touch on his ass, then a hand on his waist and the other dragging wet cock between his cheeks.

“Please…Oliver,” Braxton pleaded, and he rested his shoulders on the bed and reached back. He spread his ass cheeks desperate for Oliver’s fuck. “Do it…don’t make me beg.”

Braxton felt the blunt cock head press against his opening. Then he shuddered with its penetration. He exhaled then moaned as cock sank into his hole. Hands took him by the waist and Oliver began to fuck.

Oliver held tight to the waist and watched his cock disappear inside Braxton. Over and over, faster and faster, until the sensation was too great. He was so aroused, his cock achingly hard, he could only fuck for a short time. He threw his head back and cried out, as he hammered his cock into Braxton’s depths, ejaculating with every push inward.

Oliver fell onto top of Braxton heaving for breath. He held to the sweaty torso as Braxton lowered himself down on the bed where they lay still for a long time.

“Braxton?”

“Yes?”

“Would you move to Arlington?”

Virginia is for Lovers

The ground was covered in brightly colored leaves. Reds, oranges, yellows, and shades of brown too numerous to name. The sky was clear, colder than normal, and everyone was buddled up in coats, scarves, and caps. Some wore gloves, others had their hands buried in coat pockets.

In the western part of the city, too far away to see the river or the nation’s capital across it, was an area that was developed back in the eighties. There were shopping centers, office parks, and apartment complexes. One complex sat across the road from a small park. It was five stories in height with balconies and windows facing the street and the pool area within a central courtyard.

A park sat within the area. It was a very simple rectangle nestled among the apartment complexes and one small shopping center. There were no playing fields, playground, or dog park. It was a small natural area of trees and grass among the harsh environment of man’s civilization. There were a few trails with benches that created places for reading, watching birds and squirrels, or to sit in the shade.

Walking along an asphalt path, a young man, one you know, is pulling a rolling suitcase and carrying a duffel bag. He had arrived unannounced, smiling at his devilish plan. But now he was walking through the park, having told the taxi driver the wrong address. There had been an offer to drive him around, but he was too anxious to sit a second longer. And he figured the walk would help settle his nerves.

He saw the apartment building before he got to the street and he looked up constantly, wondering which fourth floor balcony was the one he lived in. It was late in the day, a Saturday, like most others, and he hoped he didn’t find himself waiting. The flight had been agonizingly long, with delays leaving the gate, then further delays getting to the gate at Dulles International.

The light changed in perfect timing to his arrival at the crosswalk, and he hurried across with the other pedestrians. They were coming back from jogs or walking dogs, and some glanced at the rolling suitcase he pulled along behind him.

At the apartment building, it was a secure complex, one requiring him to call up to be let in. He fretted at the inconvenience. He would prefer to see what kind of expression his arrival elicited. He wanted to know he was not making a mistake. It seemed so obvious four months ago, but time has a way of changing memories. To give meaning to gestures where none existing before. To make the obvious not so obvious.

He searched the system for the number, then entered it into the system. A ringing came out of the speaker imitating an old phone. It rang four times, and he began to worry.

“Hello?” a groggy voice answered.

“Hey, it’s me…Braxton.”