Tuesday, February 21, 2017

The Prelude

"And this is the bathroom. The tiles were redone in 2014. I quite like the modern design and the simplistic choice of color in this one", I gestured at the ugly black and white tiles that turned a rather average bathroom into a chamber of horrors just waiting for some bloodshed. Why couldn't any of these damn flats just be okay? There was always some catch that made them a hard sale. I was so tired of this shit.

Five years of pretending to be a real estate agent had really weighed me down. It was just the random sale every now and then that kept me financially afloat. People did need to live someplace after all, and I was selling apartments. Sure deal, right? At least I thought so when I started this phenomenal waste of time. Shaking off my thoughts, my eyes caught on the shower and the greenish mold spreading around the silicone seal. Damn!

I flashed my brightest smile, hoping to divert my clients' searching eyes by putting myself right in front of the mold-infested shower stall. Fidgeting with the top button of my white business shirt, I puffed out my wide chest and beckoned the two guys into the small room. Sure, I might have been San Diego's worst real estate agent, but I'd be damned if I couldn't sell this shithole to a gay couple who were staring at my lips like two kids on a hot day waiting to get ice cream from a street vendor.

Stan, the shorter of the two, looked around the room, while Hank, the tall, lanky one, smiled at me and winked. Great. I tried my best not to roll my eyes.

"The tiles look like a chess board. And there's no window." Stan slipped an index finger across a tile and rubbed it against his thumb, apparently gauging the amount of dust. Okay, I could take a hint. Time to move on.

"Let's check out the bedroom, the view there is amazing!" I walked out of the bathroom and down the hall, Hank following at my heels.

"The view sure is amazing, Brian," Hank drawled. I couldn't believe that guy. Flirting with me right in front of his man. I swallowed and led Hank into the bedroom, ignoring the way his hand bumped into my hip in passing. Involuntarily, of course. Not.

The bedroom wasn't too bad. Bright and cozy with a dark redwood floor and large windows overlooking a park. The street was right below, but looking out from this floor, all you could see were trees. If they didn't ask me to open the windows, I might actually score a point with this one.

Stan walked around the king sized bed, staring at the bare mattress and out the high windows. Yeah, I knew an apartment would be easier to sell if there was furniture and decoration, instead of showing people around bare rooms, but hey, I wasn't selling in the Kardashian's price range, so I hoped the guys would give me a break.

"The view is nice," Stan conceded. He walked closer to the bed and bumped against it with his shin. Testing its sturdiness? Please just take the damn flat already.

"I bet that bed can easily hold three guys, right?" Hank walked forward and leered at me, clearly checking me out. God, really?

"I wouldn't know," I said, my smile slipping the more Stan joined his boyfriend in that awkward staring contest at my crotch.

"I bet you would, Steve Hunter. After all, we are fans." Hank walked over and slipped his hand around my waist, pushing me softly toward the bed. My porn name had me frozen to the spot. I had hoped that after five years of retirement my fame would have vanished, but apparently I was still famous enough for two horny guys to go as far as apartment hunting just to get me into a bedroom. Suddenly I wished this flat hadn't even come with a bed.

I shook my head and pushed the hand away. "Not gonna happen, guys."

"Come on, why not? We got lube and condoms right here and it's not like we're gonna mess up any sheets, right," Hank laughed and pointed at the blank bed, running his fingers along my naked forearm. "And we might be interested in this place after all, right Stan?"

Stan smirked and rolled his eyes. "Sure thing. You do come highly recommended, you know?"

I hated this. Even more so as it wasn't the first time. The longer I worked in real estate the more I ran into clients who expected something intimate on top of a lease contract for their new apartment. 'Oh, try O'Leary Real Estate if you want to fuck a porn star'. Made me feel like a rent boy. Made me feel like a whore. I had hoped those days were behind me. I closed my eyes, trying to think.

I jumped as my cell vibrated in my pant pocket, shortly before a soft chirping announced an incoming call. Saved by the bell.

Removing myself from Hank's roaming fingers I turned toward the windows.

"O'Leary," I answered the call, frowning at an unknown number on my private cell.

Silence, then the soft sound of a woman clearing her throat. "Bry? Is that you?"

"Sarah?" Way to go, man. I hadn't talked to the only woman I ever shared my bed with in years and all I managed was her name? "How... how are you?," I added, then words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Is Evan alright?"

Sarah sniffed. "Evan is fine. He's... he applied at Berkeley. And got accepted."

I blinked, trying to find the mindset to discuss my son's education in front of two horny clients. Day of my life.

I didn't know much about academia, but Berkeley wasn't a no name university. My chest swelled with pride knowing my son was apparently smart enough for a college like that.

"That's... great news," I said quietly, all too aware of two sets of curious eyes staring at my back.

"Wait until you hear how much the tuition will be," she said carefully.

Stan and Hank startled behind me when I repeated the figure, almost yelling at my phone in disbelief. Stan cleared his throat.
"Don't tell me someone offered you that amount of cash for this dump here," he laughed and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Sarah, this is a bad time. I.. I'll think of something. I don't have that cash right now. Not even close," I whispered. I wanted to think I knew the disappointed glance that I was sure Sarah was sporting on her end of the line, but fact was I hadn't seen her in the last 15 years. Still, I knew I had let her down again, judging by her sigh. I swallowed hard. "I'll think of something, okay?"

Clicking my phone off, I turned back to Hank and Stan, who looked at me expectantly. Hank was already kneeling on the mattress, while Stan still worked to get out of his shirt.

I ground my teeth together. "You really gonna take the apartment if we do this?"

"Sure thing, dude. Now come over here." I followed Hank's beckoning hand and let him draw me closer by my belt. Bending me forward, he claimed my mouth in a wet kiss, raking his hand through my short hair. A warm weight against my back and a hand opening my shirt buttons one by one reminded me that Stan was still with us. I felt four hands roaming lower to work my belt, Hanks lips traveling down the trimmed hair on my gym-shaped chest, his tongue circling my nipple. I closed my eyes and let both guys play me, the way countless guys had before them. Teeth still grinding together, I just wanted to cry.




***




The apartment felt empty and cold. It wasn't really different to any other day, but I felt especially lonely as I came home after my successful sale. At least they had signed the lease when we were done. That was more than I could have hoped for. I stepped into the hallway and shrugged out of my leather jacket. Only a couple of buttons holding my shirt in place around my chest, I shrugged out of it and dropped it on the floor. Yeah, I knew. Laundry ain't a bachelor's best friend. My jacket had thankfully prevented the shirt from falling off on my way home, as I hadn't wanted to spend any more time around Hank and Stan than necessary to seal the deal. The smell of two different aftershaves on my body reminded me of what I had just done. Again. I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned against the hallway wall.

I needed the damn money. Not just for Evan's tuition. I also needed to pay rent and cover my own expenses like everybody else did. Just that everybody else didn't hover on the tight line between gainful employment and being a hooker. How did other people do it?

With a college degree and a set of references. I could basically hear my mother drilling her wisdom into my teenaged self. Not that I ever listened to her. I didn't hold a grudge against her when she stopped speaking with me after the porn thing got out. Still I wished I had someone to rant about shit - and I figured that was what a mother was about. Or a boyfriend. Not that I had any of those.

I didn't bother to put on a shirt again and strolled to the kitchen for a beer. The fridge was well supplied with alcohol, if nothing else. I considered hitting the gym after all, not really wanting to break my training schedule. Reading the label of the beer bottle in my hand, I shrugged the notion off and walked back to my couch, my socked feet ghosting silently over the cheap linoleum floor. I just wanted this day to end, not drag it on. The laptop still sat opened on the couch table and it just took a swipe of my finger to awaken it. I couldn't wait to mark that cursed flat as sold and remove it from my listing, but first I wanted to check my finances. Logging into my bank accounts, I wasn't surprised to see that my cash account had shriveled down to a minus balance yet again. It wasn't by much, but it was still a rather saddening sight, given it was only the middle of the month. Today's sale would even things out again so I wasn't bothered. Switching to my savings accounts, I stared at the 80 grand sitting there. Money I had accrued for Evan's tuition. It used to be so much more. Porn had paid off well and a stab of guilt reminded me that I could once have covered the full tuition at Berkeley that he needed now, but fate had had different plans and forced me to take money out of the account to cover my own expenses. Ashamed, I pulled the laptop shut and shrank back on the couch. The cold beer tasted stale on my tongue and I noticed that it wasn't the only taste still lingering there. I should probably brush my teeth.

A tentative knock on the door had me turn my head towards the entrance. I wasn't in the mood for visitors tonight. Especially not Miguel and his persevering stamina. I was 38 years old after all and just had to satisfy two guys. Another soft knock on the door. Damn, I felt like an ass.

"Come in. It's open," I called out and sighed to myself, knocking back a large swallow of beer.

My hot young neighbor sticking his head inside my door was actually the most pleasant sight of the day. I relaxed with a smile and lifted my bottle in greeting. "Miguel, handsome! Mi casa et su casa, have a beer."

I tensed up when Miguel didn't react to my tired flirting and wordlessly walked over, dropping on the couch beside me. "What's wrong?" I sat up and put my arm on his shoulder, his dark tattooed skin smooth under my callous fingertips. He didn't look at me, watching his own hands instead as he tugged on his fingers one by one. We've known each other quite a while. It was nice to have a cute young guy next door to be friendly with after work. I didn't mind the occasional hot sex either. And judging from the moaning sounds I sometimes heard through the wall, I didn't have to worry about him getting too attached to me. Besides, Miguel and I shared a rather sad secret that probably deepened our friendship on a level that I wouldn't have tolerated otherwise. I didn't usually do the big brother act with my younger lovers, but Miguel's shaking hands had me draw him in for a hug. He sniffed against my ear. "What's going on, man?", I whispered.

He sniffed again, drawing back from my embrace. "You smell like sex," he said and wrinkled his nose, then smiled. "I hope it was good." His Mexican accent was more pronounced when he was unsettled like this.

"I sold a flat," I shrugged in answer, rubbing his back in a slow circle. I realized he was stalling.
"Are you feeling alright?"

He shook his head, his black hair falling into his eyes. He was a damn hot Latino and usually knew it, but he seriously scared me now, all pale and shivering. "Is it the meds?", I prodded gently.

He looked up at me with huge brown eyes. I watched him sniff again. He rubbed his eyes on the long sleeve of his pullover and I felt cheap sitting shirtless next to him.

"I had to change the combo again after only three months. And it still doesn't work. I feel like shit, man," he said quietly. So different to the usual banter we exchanged. "It's the second time I had to change. What if I run out of options?" His lips trembled and I felt his fingers close tightly over mine, holding on for dear life, it seemed. "I don't wanna die, Brian?" His eyes sparkled.

I had never seen him cry. So the tear slipping out of the corner of his eye, rolling down his tanned but unusually pale cheek surprised me. I drew him into a hug again and he melted against me, sobbing loudly, tear drops wet on my naked chest. "I'm sure it'll be alright. We'll go to the clinic right away and fix this. They'll check your blood and then the doc will decide how to continue."

He sobbed again and I did something I never did with him before. I kissed his head, his soft hair tickling my lips. "I had a shitty time myself until I adjusted. My first combo, I thought I'd die. The second one wasn't as bad, but it still took me three months to get used to it. It's been working for 4 years now. It'll be the same for you," I soothed him.

He stilled and I let him sit back. "What if not?" I could see his fear clearly in his eyes.

"What if you walk out that door and get run over by a bus? You can't ask 'what if' or you'll stop living, Miguel." I slapped his cheek playfully and smiled at him. "Come on, get your meds and we're off to the clinic. I just need to take a shower, okay?"

Miguel watched me, obviously mesmerized by the colorful design tattooed on my chest. When he looked up he said, "Thank you. For coming with me."

I patted his knee and stood up. "You're welcome. That's what friends are for."

"You're my friend," he said quickly and he sounded so much like a scared child that I wanted to hug him again. But Miguel was 28 years old. HIV wasn't the end of his life, even if it was a nuisance sometimes. I knew he would make it. And I'd be there for him when he needed me, hoping he'd do the same for me.



In the bathroom, I dropped my pants and socks and stepped into the shower feeling like someone who actually had a purpose in life. I smiled sadly to myself. The first real smile on a day that had already gone down the drain.




***


The clinic wasn't exactly buzzing with activity. This time of night, it was only emergency cases such as Miguel who were accepted. The usual crowd of worried party boys in need of a test after a night of wild and risky sex was luckily absent. I couldn't stand the stupidity of these guys. As if they would get a solid result after only a few hours. Still, they kept clogging up the waiting lines at the clinic while real HIV patients with health issues had to wait hours to be seen. A full health insurance was one reason why I had to take money out of Evan's account. There was a time when I actually thought I'd die, while the faces of mindless pretty boys stared at me in the waiting rooms, probably even recognizing my face. A health insurance meant I could see a doctor in a more private setting. Miguel wasn't as lucky, so I waited at the clinic next to him, letting him drop his head on my shoulder while we waited and glad that the usual day crowd was absent.

"I met someone. He knows." Miguel's words caught me by surprise. I turned my head, my mouth in his hair now.

"That's great. Congratulations. You going steady?", I whispered and squeezed his shoulder. He nodded.

"I think so. I've never had a boyfriend. I don't wanna mess up," he whispered back.

"You won't. If you really like him, he's worth it." He was silent, waiting for more adult wisdom from me. "And I'll be your friend, even if we don't do the bedroom tango anymore. You know that," I said slowly, not sure what he wanted to hear.

He raised his head from my shoulder and looked at me, his eyes searching for something on my face. After a second, he smiled and pressed a quick kiss on my lips.

"I didn't know, but thank you. It means a lot." He rested his head again on me and tightened my grip on his shoulder, drawing him nearer.

"Are you ever lonely?", he asked suddenly.

I shrugged. "You know, I'm rarely lonely."

I felt his chest rumble in a soft laugh. "I mean, between tricks. When you're by yourself."

I was glad he couldn't see the frown on my face. "Who isn't? It's not like I have much to offer to a boyfriend. And I don't want some porn freak who wants me to re-enact my old scenes with him."

"I think you have a lot to offer," he said and fell silent for a long time until I felt him take a deep breath.

"Why did you sleep with your clients today?", he asked. It felt like a dagger being driven into my side. I winced. It wasn't that I was ashamed of doing it. I never felt ashamed for having sex. It was just the fact that it sometimes felt like people bought me that unsettled me.

"They said they'd take the flat if I did. I needed the money," I sighed. "And what a shitty thing to say."

"Why are you doing real estate? You keep saying how much you hate it, but it's all you've done ever since I know you. Why not do what you really like. Like your gym stuff?" he said. I wasn't used to having a grown-up conversation with him. We never felt the need to talk much. He knocked. I opened and we soon found more pleasurable ways to fill our mouths than idle chatter. I never knew Miguel had given that much thought about my life or that he knew I was a fitness freak who liked bodybuilding - and not just to ogle the hot guys at the gym. I actually loved the health aspect and the dieting. It was one reason I was in such good shape despite my diagnosis.

"When I stopped doing porn, I did get employed at a gym. You're right, I was quite good at it. But some guys knew me and requested other services on the side. When my boss got wind of it, he fired me. That's why I decided to go into self-employment. Real estate sounded good at the time."

"Just that it sounds like the same thing is happening again. Except that there's no boss who could fire you for it." Miguel's voice sounded sad, which irritated me. Was he worried about me? Or did he think I was a whore? I wasn't a whore. I just did what needed to be done so I could meet my responsibilities.

"I know. Fact is, I need the money. Evan's college tuition is coming up and I don't know what else to do." I bit my tongue. Shit. Why couldn't Miguel just sleep on my shoulder until he was called in? I just gave away more of myself than any guy ever got from me before.

"Evan? Who is Evan?", Miguel said, lifting his head, curiosity clear on his face.

"He's my son," I said and looked at the empty chairs on the opposite side of the waiting room. I had never told Miguel about my family or my life before my nebulous porn fame. It suddenly seemed like I had lied to him for so long, simply by omitting something that wasn't his business to begin with.

"Wow," he looked at me like he suddenly saw a new person where his fuck buddy had been. "And you're paying for his tuition? Isn't that like a shitload of money?"

"Uh-hu. You got that right," I murmured and was relieved when he put his head back on my shoulder. He didn't freak out over my fatherhood at least.

"Does the real estate gig make enough money for that?," he finally asked.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Not even close."

"So what are you gonna do?"

I shrugged my shoulder, careful not to disturb him with the motion.

"Will you return to porn?" The question surprised me. I hadn't ever considered it, not after the way I left porn. But I knew that with the rise of bareback porn, even HIV+ guys were getting work in the business, as long as their t-cell counts were okay. At least I hoped that the companies cared about such shit and not willingly endangered their negative performers by pairing them with guys like me.

"I don't know. Do you think I'd still have a chance?"

Miguel's laugh rumbled through his chest. "You gotta be kidding me. You'd be a rising star."

I smirked at his enthusiasm. "We'll see."

I looked up when a doctor emerged from one of the closed doors and approached us, a worn out look on his face. I couldn't blame him.

"Mr Rodriguez?"

Miguel sat up and looked at me. I squeezed his hand. "You need me to come with?"

He shook his head and followed the doctor into his office. I folded my arms in front of my chest and relaxed back into my chair. The clock said 9 p.m. My eyelids were starting to get heavy, despite my knees jiggling restlessly. I hoped Miguel would be alright. I didn't have many friends, just fuck buddies, but I felt like I could need friends now more than ever. Slipping my cell out of my pocket, I started to scroll through my contacts, most of which I only kept saved so I could block the numbers. Grindr was damn convenient to scratch an itch, but it also left me with lots of contacts I didn't want a repeat with.

I wasn't sure if I had deleted it long ago, but after a couple of minutes I found the number I was looking for. Staring at my phone for what felt like an hour, I clicked back to my home screen and waited patiently for Miguel to return.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Professional bonding

I didn't usually consider spending my spare time with the department Neanderthals a decent way to enjoy my Saturday off, but my captain requesting a day trip with my subs to 'socialize' was hardly a task I could delegate.

So here I was, deliberately ignoring the machismo and bromances that the younger cops seemed to entertain, as we walked into the spa entrance to spend a day of - and I quote - "professional bonding" which I knew would turn into a night of dragging shitfaced cops - who should know better - out of the pool bar before they drowned themselves.

Ramirez walking behind me delivered his usual rants and ignorant half-knowledge that the majority of the American population seemed to be prone to these days. On duty, I'd call him out on it, but tonight I intended to let the boys be stupid. I knew once they'd be nursing their third beers I would silently vanish to a dark corner and pretend I didn't know these drunk assholes. My ears peaked up when I heard one of the newbies behind us speak up, interrupting Ramirez in whatever hateful bullshit he was sharing with the men. Ramirez turned back to the kid and the guys almost bumped into him, eventually pulling the group to a stop.

I sighed and turned toward my subordinates, all of them dressed mainly in leather jackets and jeans instead of the black uniform I usually saw them in. Ramirez inhaled sharply.

"You're shitting me? You're what?", he spat at the kid. One of the officers in training who just completed his introduction period and was soon to be paired permanently with a fellow cop to roam the streets, walked up to him and stared him down, his jaw set.

"I said I'm gay, so stop talking shit like that, okay?", the kid growled. Gotta give it to him. He had balls. Not particularly smart to make an enemy of Ramirez, but still. I hoped he didn't jeopardize his opportunity of teaming up with a seasoned cop. Chances were, most colleagues wouldn't feel comfortable having a queer to back them up. It was some inherently homophobic superstitious bullshit that had somehow survived among the force. No one knew that better than me. After 20 years in that damn job, I knew staying in the closet was my only chance to survive among these assholes. That and making sure the men respected me. No, make that feared me.

So, yeah. The kid sure had balls.

Ramirez' face turned dark with rage. "I can't believe that cocksucker. What are you even doing here? Ogling real men in the showers so you can jerk off to the memory of us while your queer loverboy tongues your asshole?"

The kid turned white before he balled his fists and... Enough was enough.

I stepped between the men and put my hands flat on Ramirez' and the kid's (Decker, was it? ) chests.

"Ramirez! Stop fucking around. The boy ain't none of your business. You don't want to be partnered with a gay cop? Fine. But don't hate on one of ours just because he's different. You of all people should know what that's like. Where were you born again, huh? Mexico City?"

I put as much authority into my voice as I could. Ramirez shrank back and averted my eyes. Good boy. He knew as well as I did, had Trump been in office when Ramirez applied for the force, he'd have found himself on a one way flight back to the slums instead of sitting in an air-conditioned car all day, feeding on donuts and whatever Mexican shit *Mrs* Ramirez packed for him each day, like the 12 year old schoolboy he actually was.

"Never mind, lieutenant. Forget I said anything. Just make sure that faggot stays well away from me."

He looked at me with cold eyes and walked on. I noticed the men around us watching the exchange uneasily, a few of the guys walking around Decker as if he suddenly carried a contagious disease. Shit, I hated to see this.

The boy was still rooted to the spot, his eyes fuming and disappointed. I beckoned him to follow. "Come on, kid. Ramirez is an asshole. Don't take his bullshit to heart, okay?"

He nodded and walked behind me into the spa.

Professional bonding? Yeah, right. It was bullshit. This time, I hated to be right, though.


A couple of hours later -still late morning, mind you- most of my men had had more than their share to drink and were horsing around in the warm water, riding each other's backs, while waving their cocktail glasses above their heads. I should probably make a cellphone snapshot and put it in each of these guys' staff files. That would make the next staffing review much more interesting and bring home to the captain that this bonding bullshit was nothing but a waste of time.

Guys who were already fighting at work didn't need to be friends off work - and cops who were friendly with each other didn't need a spa to reinforce that fact.

I decided to wander off and enjoy the spa by myself a bit. I was sure I'd hear the life guards if one of my men *did* actually drown in that damn pool bar. I didn't particularly like the fake palm trees and tropical fish tank grotto that made the pool bar a popular place for screaming children and parents who started their intoxication way before lunch.

So I went to the sauna area, dropped my trunks, enjoying the sensation of walking in the nude, and felt my way inside one of the dark steam rooms to cherish the quiet, far away from noisy kids.

The steam was already well on the way and I didn't see a thing in the moist heat, my fingertips searching for the tiled bench to sit down. I felt the feet under me just when I stepped on them. Trying to avoid slamming into the person sitting in the dark before me, I slid on the slippery floor and felt strong arms on my back, keeping me from hitting the edge of the bench going down. Steadying myself, the strong grip on my skin eased and slipped away.

"Thanks. Sorry I stepped on you. I don't see a thing in here," I said and sat down next to the man.

"No worries, Sir", a familiar voice responded.

Sir? I squinted my eyes. "Decker?"

The familiar eyes gleamed in the dark mist in front of me. Of course it was him. I hadn't seen him at the bar. Should have known he was hiding.

"Why are you not out there getting shitfaced? It's rare the department puts out like this, so better take what you can get", I joked and smiled.

Decker didn't respond right away. He sighed.

"You know why, Sir," he said. An awkward pause stretched between us. I hated to point out that 'socializing' wasn't working like that. But then he sure as hell knew that already.

"Thanks for speaking up for me, Sir," he eventually added, breaking the silence.

I sighed. "Don't 'Sir' me, kid. We're off duty and supposed to have fun. I'm Greg," I held out my hand, which he shook awkwardly.

"Thanks, Greg. Please call me Ben. I ain't a kid anymore," he smiled.

I watched him in the dark, his body a bright shape looming next to me in the billowing steam.

"I can see that. You're an athlete, right? We need guys like you on the force. Guys who don't lose their breath chasing after someone on foot, just because they've gotten fat eating donuts all day."

He chuckled at that, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. Damn, he sounded young - and hot. A dangerous combination.

"Yeah. I'm into bodybuilding. I just competed in the USBF Miami. Just for fun. Didn't win anything, but it was great seeing all these guys in person, doing their thing." He smiled, white teeth shining brightly.

"That's awesome, Ben. You sure look impressive. How long've you been doing it?"

He sat up, puffing up his chest.

"Ten years. You gotta stay with it or it's no use doing it at all."

He ran his hand across his chest, feeling the muscles that he earned through years of training. I could see his smooth skin sparkle with sweat. It was dark, but I did notice the ripple of muscles under his skin as he moved.

"Impressive. May I?" I lifted a tentative hand, wondering if he'd be comfortable letting me touch his biceps.

In response, Ben lifted his arm and flexed his muscles. I ran my palm across his swollen biceps, feeling the muscle hard as steel under my fingers. Running my fingers toward his elbows, I continued to caress his lower arm, feeling raspy stubble there.

"Do you shave your whole body?"

He lowered his arm, letting me stroke up and down his forearm, the rasp of his hair growing back an electrifying sensation under my fingers.

"Only for competitions. The legs are tough, though. I'm a bit on the hairy side."

I wasn't sure if the heat in that steam had melted all my common sense or if I had just gone crazy, but I lowered my hand to touch his upper thigh, stroking from his knee up to his groin, feeling the same raspy stubble on his leg.

What the fuck was I doing touching that kid in a steam room like this? He had every right to file a complaint against me. I shuddered about THAT particular talk with the captain. Still, right in that moment I didn't care.

I felt Ben freeze up, the huge muscles in his thigh going rigid.

I withdrew my hand.

"Sorry," I swallowed. "I'm pretty hairy myself. I imagine shaving it all off must be a bitch."

What a lame excuse. I had better shut up.

Ben didn't say anything. I almost jumped when I felt his hand carefully settle down on my thigh, stroking up and down the coarse hair there, from my knee up to my groin, just like I had done to him.

"I... I don't mind, Greg. Do you?" He whispered.

His palm was hot on my already heated skin, sweat making the touch slippery. He reached my groin and let his finger touch my slowly rising shaft. The head jumped and brushed his fingers. He went higher, caressing the hair on the base of my cock, continuing his way up my flat stomach and hairy chest.

My nipples hardened, anticipating the touch of his fingers. When it came, I couldn't help but moan quietly.

"I like your body," he said.

I might have been pushing forty, but working my days off in my brother's construction business had shaped my muscles and the sun shining down on me working shirtless had given me a deep tan. I knew I wasn't ugly. Still, feeling this young man's hands on me sent a jolt of arousal right to my groin.

I rose my hand and mirrored his touches, wandering over the ripples of Ben's smooth abs and huge pecs, his nipples hard and waiting to be caressed. He moaned.

I slid my hand lower, sweat making the motion fluid on his slippery skin. The base of his cock was shaved as well, the sharp rasp of stubble tickling my fingers. Jesus, he was huge. His cock was fully hard under my fingers, as I slowly pulled his skin back to reveal his pulsing head, the tip wet and slippery from precum under my touch.

"Shit, Greg. If you don't stop now, I gotta relieve myself right here, public indecency be damned," he said with a strained voice and pulled away from me.

I was an old fool and I knew it. Still, I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward me, ridiculously happy when he complied. I moved his body down between my legs, spreading my own to settle him in front of me, his back to my chest. He melted against me, head resting on my shoulder. His body trembled as I hugged him close, his hard flat stomach rising and falling under my hand with each breath. I circled his nipples with my fingers and smiled against his cheek when he gasped.

I let my hand wander lower until they touched the hard shaft jutting in the air. I wanted to draw this out, make this good for him. But the voice in the back of my mind reminded me that someone might enter the steam room at any moment. Perhaps even Ramirez. And wouldn't that be a Kodac moment?

If I did this, I had to get him off quickly. Jerking him slowly, I began to knead his balls, letting go every so often to caress his muscled legs and belly.

His cock pulsed under my fingers and his breathing grew quicker.

He rolled his head on my shoulder, his lips brushing my cheek, like the shadow of a kiss.

"Greg...," he panted, his body writhing under my touch.

I felt the slick of sweat mingle with the precum oozing from his head. He moaned quietly, his hands rubbing up and down my hairy forearms as I jerked him off. My hand kneading his balls moved lower, caressing the skin on his perineum and I felt him move up my body to give me room. Following his invitation, I rubbed a finger against his puckered hole, already moist with sweat. He spread his legs further, pushing my own apart in the process. My cock was suddenly underneath his ass cheeks rubbing against his skin, much like my fingers looking for entry. I felt him tense up.

"Relax, I'm not gonna fuck you," I breathed into his ear, rubbing my thumb across his cock to make him shiver.

He rested his head back on my shoulder and opened up his body to me. I slipped my finger inside, reaching in as far as the angle allowed. I felt his cock pulse in my hand when my fingers rubbed across his spot. He moaned, much too loud for the circumstances we had found ourselves in, so I did the only thing I could think of and melted my lips against his, swallowing his cry in my mouth. His rushing breath filled my lungs as I sealed our mouths together and I felt his cock pulse in my hand, the rush of orgasm pumping his seed through the thick shaft, his slit gaping to release jets and jets of warm milky cum on my trembling fingers.

I felt Ben breathe heavily through his nose, the rush of air hot on my heated cheeks, while our tongues chased each other in what was probably the most intense kiss of my life.

He broke the connection first, trailing away by sliding his tongue slowly across my cheek.

Coming to my senses, I slipped my finger out of his ass and waited for him to get up. He grabbed my wrist looking at the cum streaked fingers with a surprised look on his face.

I freed my hand and brought the wet fingers to my lips, licking away the evidence of his pleasure. He stared at me with wide eyes.

Swallowing his taste, I smiled at him.

"I'm gay too, you know? No need to look shocked."

He looked down to my cock, still hard and leaking. Without another word, he dropped to his knees and swallowed me down, his lips closing around the base of my shaft, while my head entered his throat, the sensuous feeling of his swallowing around me sending me over the edge.

Caressing his stretched lips with my fingers, I felt his tongue lap against the underside of my cock, waiting for the pulsing that announced my own climax. I bit back a groan as I came, the sensation almost knocking me unconscious with the added heat of the steam room. My fingers caressed his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down, swallowing every last drop I gave him.

Releasing my cock from his mouth, he tongued my head clean, eventually kissing my hairy belly, resting his head on my chest, as if he was unsure about the proper protocol after blowing his lieutenant in a steam room.

I put my arms around him and kissed his head.

"Wanna spend the day with me? Just relaxing and soaking while these idiots get shitfaced?"

He looked up and nodded, his smile lighting up the dark room.

We sat staring at each other for a minute, until we were calm enough to return to proper decency.

I left the room and waited for him to follow me, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in my belly that I wasn't sure my badass old self was still capable of.

Ben was lovely. He wasn't just a hot body - which he sure as hell was - but he was quick to smile and easy to talk to as well. Spending hours in the hot tub and sharing a late lunch in the spa's restaurant almost felt like a date and had me forget that I was supposed to entertain my men. My focus was only on one of them, though.

Lying in a whirlpool, enjoying hot bubbles around us, I felt his fingers tentatively brush mine, as if gauging my reaction to his touch.

I made the decision for him, though, and covered his hand in mine, holding it like two lovers sharing a hot tub.

It was insane, but right then it felt so right, nothing could have kept me away from this amazing man.

The hours grew late and the pool lights in the outdoor area started to illuminate the water in colorful shades. The hot water sent clouds of mist into the night, putting a veil across us and the kissing couples around us who shared the peaceful silence.

I watched Ben closely and felt his eyes dart longingly toward the happy couples nearby.

He caught my glance and quickly looked away, embarrassed by my low chuckle.

"Come here," I said and pulled him into my embrace, folding his legs around me so he was sitting in my lap in the dark corner of the pool. The position was slightly sinful, with only our trunks preventing me from actually melting into him, the way I found myself wanting ever since our hot encounter in the morning.

"What are you thinking?" I whispered into his ear, rubbing my cheek against his. He tightened his arms around me, every move of his huge muscles like a ripple against my skin. "What I'm thinking? I can't believe I'm making out with THE Lt. O'Donnell, for one. You're a hero to everyone. I still can't believe you're gay," he laughed softly.

"And I can't believe you had the guts to come out like this to all the guys. Takes guts to do that, Ben. I've never found the courage."

He caressed my neck and looked into my eyes.

"You think there'll be consequences?", he asked, eyes searching mine.

"I'll make sure there won't," I said, cutting the conversation short by coaxing his mouth to open for mine, his tongue welcoming me, the rush of warmth stoking the fire in my belly, still looking for a hint of my taste on his tongue. I had fucked my share of guys, but never had I wanted to call any of them mine. Not the way I wanted Ben to.

I fleetingly wondered about the 15 years between us. Or the ranks separating us at the precinct. Would he even want me? A fuck in a steam room hardly qualified for a relationship. Only one way to find out.

I cast the thoughts aside and concentrated on the man in my arms and the soft rasp of his cheek against my lips as we competed with the couples around us, displaying the affection we felt for each other for everyone to see.

Kissing hardly ever felt so right.


Two hours later, we finally caught up with the guys at the pools. Most of them were drunk and still horsing around like underage fools, annoying other guests. I was glad they didn't wear a badge tonight, or I'd be sure to file away complaints like crazy before calling it a night.

"Look who's here, the fag. You done blowing guys in the sauna?", Ramirez babbled, sloshing his beer around, parts of it landing in the water around him. Whoever thought it was a good idea to put a bar *inside* a pool was hopefully scrubbing toilets somewhere now.

I was too old and hardened to let his words cut me, but Ben stiffened again, dropping back as we approached.

I directed an angry glare at Ramirez and put my full authority in my tone.

"You shut the fuck up now, Ramirez, unless you want to talk directly to the captain about the misconduct you displayed tonight." I grabbed Ben possessively on his neck and drew him to my side.

"Decker is gay. So what? I'm gay too, and I expect my men to treat each other with respect. Am I clear?" I basically yelled at him by then and pointedly ignored the men turning still around us.

"What...?" Ramirez looked confused. "All of a sudden, you're a fag too?!"

I pressed down reassuringly on Ben's neck.

"Always been queer. But it took Decker here to find the courage to come out. And I'd be damned honored if he would consider dating an old bastard like me."

I glanced at Ben, loving to see the surprised look on his face. He suddenly grabbed my chin and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek.

"I'd love to date you."

The awkward silence gave way to loud wolf-whistles and good-natured cheers, but Ramirez regarded us with disgust and turned away, muttering Spanish curses, no doubt.

"Someone got lucky, huh?", Silverman said, clapping me on the shoulder. Aimed at Ben, he said,

"You picked well, Decker. O'Donnell won't ever let you down." He raised his fist, waiting for Ben to bump it. Silverman was Ben's training officer, so I knew it meant a lot to Ben to hear these words from him.

"Sure thing, Sir", he smiled, bumping the offered fist.

I drew him in for a hug, enjoying the unusual freedom in front of my men.

"Thank you," Ben whispered in my ears. I pressed my lips on his cheek and finally found his lips again.

I knew things would be alright. The captain would probably have a heart attack, though. I laughed at that thought and closed my eyes, falling into the sensation of kissing my lover.


"Professional bonding" never sounded sweeter.

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