AU. Belongs to CowLip. Entertainment purposes only. No profit, more's the pity.
This had not been a good idea, Brian thought.
When he had signed up for this two month cruise as part of the yacht crew, he had only been thinking that he had needed to get the fuck away from his life, which had gone to shit. It had seemed almost a sign, coming across the advertisement on line, “Needed immediately…” He had fired off the email on a complete whim, never expecting that his experience in working on board cruise ships during college summers, and that two year stint of working on pleasure cruises after college just to see the world, would actually get him the job of working on board this particular boat. And what a boat! Yacht, Brian, he told himself. Big, big, beautiful boat.
All because Ethan Gold, the violin virtuoso, celebrated throughout the world, had needed a vacation, immediately, a long vacation with experienced crew members to sign up for two months, take off, tomorrow. Spoiled brats, all of them. I want, I want, NOW. And Gold sure as shit had what it took to get what he wanted, when he wanted it. If his fame and fortune in the squealing of the strings that Brian suffered through day and night due to practice or just the entertainment of the other guests on board weren’t enough, Gold’s family had money to burn. Old money. He might never play again, and it wouldn’t matter. The yacht was his family’s, anyway. Or had he just bought it on a whim? Who knew? Who cared?
What really bugged Brian, though, were these people, these guests. It’s very different, he thought as his eyes swept the sun-drenched deck, looking for anything out of place, finding nothing but the naked sunbathers across deck, their drinks and coke and bags of pot strewn about them. There’s a big difference between being 22 years old and treated like a second class citizen, beneath notice except to be ordered about, and being 32 with a bit more experience under the belt, and being treated like a second class citizen. Especially when those doing the ordering are no more than 22 themselves.
Yeah, he had not exactly thought this one out.
Well, fuck. What the fuck. He’d needed to get away; he was away, all right. His eyes flicked out over the huge ocean behind them, swept in toward the brief spit of land. Where were they, anyway, Tahiti? Somewhere around the Philippines? God knew. And Brian didn’t give a shit, not really. Away from Pittsburgh, no phone, no computer, no nothing to reach him. He had another month to figure out what to do before he got back there. For now, he played the humble servant, almost as if it were a game. In a way, it was. A different type of vacation, a vacation from himself, so different from the vacation these idiots lying out in the sun were taking. Their vacation seemed to intensify their sense of who they were. Unfortunately, they were all assholes.
“Hey, yo, didn’t you hear me calling you?”
Brian’s eyes cut over. Oh, great. That fucking blonde again. Just what he needed. Justin Taylor. Ethan Gold’s boy toy. The kid sauntered over to him, with a real shit-eating grin on his face. He had at least pulled on a pair of linen pants, but they were so thin as to be see-through, and Brian could see the kid’s impressive cock through the material. Justin swaggered toward him, his grin teasing. He knew how he looked, a walking wet dream. Brian hadn’t made any reference to his own sexuality, certainly not among the other working guys who spent evenings ranting about the boobs and butts of the chicks who were in the Gold entourage, who flaunted themselves in front and then went off to vocally fuck their brains out with the more privileged boys, guests of Gold. There were about eighteen of them in all, all like rabbits. But Gold and this Taylor kid were the worst. Brian didn’t know if Gold had picked up on him, he expected he did, though it was hard to tell because he ignored Brian as if he were a piece of mobile furniture. Brian knew damn well, though, that this Justin knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how to push Brian’s buttons. As if Brian weren’t just a piece of furniture. More like a toy, placed there for his own personal amusement.
“I need you to lotion me up,” Justin said now, his gaze flickering over Brian’s body, very briefly, but pointedly, to come back up to meet Brian’s flinty gaze.
“Can’t one of your friends help you out?”
Justin shrugged. “Don’t want to make them move, they look pretty comfortable.” Brian looked over; indeed, half of them seemed asleep. The other half just seemed drugged. “And your hands seem ready to reach those… hard to reach spots so well. You don’t appear to be doing much at the moment. Watch’a looking at?”
Brian shook his head. “Nothing. Just the water.”
“You know, Freud says water is a sign of sexuality,” the golden beauty teased him. “And the ocean… well.” Brian looked at him sharply, noticing that Justin’s gaze had come to rest on his dick, which was actually responding to the other man’s suggestive words. Fuck!! Just fucking great, he’d been doing that all week, turning Brian on with a mere word, a lick of the lips, his knowing eyes telling him he knew exactly what he was doing, and then taking Gold off to come to screaming orgasm in the master cabin. Once, he’d accepted a drink Brian had brought him on request, thanking him by running his fingers down Brian’s bare shoulder, resting briefly on his bicep, then sauntering off with a backward smirk that Brian could not miss, to grab his boyfriend and pull him into the cabin. Leaving the drink, untouched, on a table on deck.
One month of this. No other gay men on board. Only brief stops in port, and often having to work through, rarely getting his own needs met. Yeah. Not well thought out.
“Fine,” Brian snapped now, grabbing the bottle of 30 SPF that Justin held out to him.
“Ooh, testy, testy,” Justin teased, totally amused. He turned around and walked back to the chair he’d been lying out in. As if it weren’t enough that Brian could see the crack of that bodacious butt through the linen trousers, he slipped them off completely, flashing a full view of his glorious nakedness, before lying face down on the folded-down lounger. “Okay, you may service me now,” he called. And giggled. Actually giggled!!
Brian gritted his teeth, but moved forward. Except for this shit, the job was great. And, if he admitted it to himself, this shit wouldn’t be so bad in another context. Rubbing the warm lotion into his palms, setting his hands on that silky flesh, feeling the taut muscles just beneath… to touch, but not TOUCH, now, that was something of torture. Brian willed his dick down as he moved lower to the small of Justin’s back, kneading the tight musculature there. He heard Justin sigh. Brian’s lips twisted wickedly, and he placed his hands on the top of the kid’s buttocks, and slowly, slowly pressing his fingers in. A small whimper was heard from where Justin’s head was turned into the top of the folded down sunning chair. Brian sat back, picked up the bottle, and dripped lotion down each of Justin’s legs, massaging it in, in turn. Then he reached the tops of each thigh. Justin had spread his legs, just slightly, and Brian could hear his increased breathing. Shit, he could feel his own heart rate increased. As his palms cupped the lower part of Justin’s ass, he spread the cheeks slightly, looking at the sac between them. It had began to strain upward, moving with the rapidly hardening cock beneath. Brian wondered how the frontal view would look. His hands moved onto the kid’s ass. Holy…
Brian almost jumped at the dry tone in the fiddler’s voice, looking up at Gold staring down at the spectacle before him.
“Oh, hey, Ethan,” Justin said, completely casual, as if he weren’t lying there with a rock-hard dick from a suddenly sensual massage. He turned his head, eyes half-open, like a cat. As if he expected nothing more from the service at hand, but of course a spreading of lotion would become more of a service. Did the greatness of his spectacular self deserve any less? Brian wanted to flay himself, no, to flay this kid. Fuck!
Justin was continuing, “You done practicing?”
“Need practice at something else?” Justin teased, using the same tone he’d just been using with Brian. He sat up, not even bothering to cover his hard-on, grabbing a towel as he stood and making the act of draping it around those lean hips seem almost as sensual as a strip tease. Tease in reverse. Of course, that was the point.
“Now that you mention it…” Ethan answered, any anger drained away with Justin’s hand on his cheek. Justin took his hand and pulled him toward the cabin. Neither turned back in their eagerness to appease their desire, to see Brian rising and stalking off in the other direction.
“Hey, Brian, the little blonde fag is demanding you.”
Brian shot a look over at Andy, who purposefully strode up to where he stood, smoking, at the back of the yacht. His eyes narrowed, but Andy didn’t see that behind the sunglasses. “What?” He flicked the cigarette over the side.
“That kid, Gold’s butt buddy, he’s demanding, quote, ‘Send Brian to me.’” Andy’s voice lifted two keys in register, and he gestured with one hand, imperiously, in mocking imitation. “Geez, Brian, doesn’t that bother you?”
“The little shit’s demands?”
“Not just that,” Andy responded, leaning back against the rail. “The way he’s after you.”
Brian raised an eyebrow. “Hardly. He thinks I’m beneath him. It’s just a bullshit game.”
“He’s a faggot, Brian, he’s decided he’s wants you, ugh. You’re putting up with it better than I would, I’d beat the kid silly, fucking faggot.”
Brian leaned toward Andy, so his face was very close to the other man’s. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Andy. Right now, YOUR shit’s pissing me off way more than his. He’s an asshole, but not for the same reasons you are. And you’re lucky THIS faggot doesn’t beat the shit out of YOU, right now.” With that, Brian stalked off to the prow, where the other asshole waited for him.
Justin was sitting there, sipping a mimosa, gazing out over the water. He had those white linen trousers on again, and a matching white pull-over with long, loose sleeves and a v-neck. He wore asymmetric sunglasses, black as night, the only dark thing on him.
“You called?” Brian asked dryly, stopping a few feet from the chair Justin occupied.
“Yeah, I want you to take me to the beach.”
“Yes, the beach!” Justin snapped back. “My friends left notice they went off to some cove on that island over there. I want to go meet them.”
Brian eyed this kid. Then he turned his eyes out over the ocean, to the island the yacht was anchored offshore from. The waters were treacherous around here; they were a good two miles out. “They took the boat.”
“There’s the other boat.”
“Not in this water.” The wind was high, not terribly so, but enough to kick up the waves. And the boat the idiot mentioned was a tiny thing, fairly sturdy, but not for long-distance. It might seat eight. If you crowded it. And it was basically for emergencies. Not for travel. He said as much.
“Listen, I’m not debating this. Ethan left me this note,” Justin handed it imperiously to the man watching him, “and told me, get somebody to bring me. So you will bring me to the beach. Isn’t that your job? To follow our orders? You do like your job, don’t you?”
Brian glanced down at the note to mask the way his teeth were grinding together. He read, “Hey Jus! Sorry you overslept, next time try coming off the fly a little sooner!” Brian knew that was a reference to the white powder he’d watched Justin snorting up his nose long after the others had left for bed. While the others slept peacefully, the little blonde twerp was dancing around on deck, in the moonlight. Brian, up by the wheel room, had watched him. Brian’s sleeplessness had to do with real demons. This kid’s… just a plain ol’ coke fiend. Just when he couldn’t get more boring. Still, the sight of the moon glinting off that blonde hair, the sinewy movement of those hips… Shaking the memory out of his head, he continued reading. “So get somebody to take the other boat out to the cove. Here’s the map, and coordinates, according to Jack. Anyway, hope you don’t sleep too late!”
“See?” It wasn’t a question. “So Ethan says it’s okay. So? Take me to the cove. You do know how to read coordinates? That is why you were hired, isn’t it? For your… skills,” Justin added, his eyes lingering on Brian’s chest, hugged by the black t-shirt.
This just plain pissed him off. He later told himself that was the reason for this monumental mistake, he was too angry to exercise good judgment. What was it about this kid? He had dealt with rich shits like this plenty, and plenty a lot older and smarter than this self-destructive idiot. “Fine,” he snapped. “Get whatever you want to take, meet me by the boat in fifteen minutes.”
He had known it was a bad idea, but he had had no idea just how bad until three hours later when they were drifting, and the land disappeared behind him, the yacht long gone.
Stupid boat. He had known, known that this boat was not meant to battle the tide going in the opposite direction, the waves just a bit too high, the distance just too long. What he hadn’t counted on was the fan throwing a blade, and the whole thing overheating. Next thing he knows, the kid is screaming at him, and now whimpering, “You have to fix it! What are you doing? Why aren’t you fixing it? I’m gonna be late! We’ll miss them!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Brian barked back. His hands were covered in grease from taking the engine as far apart as he could without tools. The single screwdriver from the emergency kit was not helpful; he needed wrenches. He sat back on the seat, and stared hard at Justin, who was holding one hand against his head to keep that stupid floppy hat on his head. Well, good thing he wore it, keeping this vicious sun off that thin skin. “I already explained this, it isn’t the fan belt, it’s the actual fan, it threw a blade, the whole engine overheated, and shut down. Permanently. I think something melted.” And of course, for some reason, the boat didn’t have oars. Not that that would really matter. But it might. Isn’t that what they say about disasters? It’s not just one mistake, one piece of bad luck? Disasters happen when there’s a conglomeration of them. Of course, the batteries in the GPS phone that was in the emergency kit in the bottom of the boat were dead. And Justin had left his phone on the yacht. He said he had expected Brian to have communication. But Brian knew he just didn’t want to admit forgetting it. Well, so they both had made mistakes here.
“You think? You THINK something melted? Aren’t you supposed to know? Isn’t that your job?”
“It isn’t my job to ferry spoiled blonde boy ass in a boat that shouldn’t be out on the ocean in the first place!” Brian yelled back, losing his temper.
Justin shook his head and looked away.
Thirty-six hours. Brian could not believe this. Thirty-six hours, drifting on the ocean. Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink… Well, not quite true. It was an emergency boat, after all. There were six bottles of water. And six power bars. There were supposed to be more. “Where the fuck is the dried fruit, the trail mix shit this thing is supposed to come with?” Brian had asked.
“Well, there was more…”
He’d looked over at Justin, who was looking away. “But?”
“Well, we had the munchies, and Ethan remembered the snacks in the boat…”
“You couldn’t just go the kitchen!?”
“The steward was sleeping! And the snacks were closer…”
“They weren’t snacks! They’re supplies! Jesus, don’t you people ever think!”
And so they had already argued over rationing.
“I’m thirsty!” Justin whined when Brian grabbed the water from him mid-gulp.
“Yeah, but you want to run out and still be out here three days from now?” Brian had taken a small sip, and then put the cap back on, scooting the bottle under his seat.
“Three days,” Justin had responded, almost a moan.
It was midnight now. Brian eyed the younger man, sleeping uncomfortably at the other end of the boat. Shit, when he was quiet, he was actually… beautiful. But then he woke up, and ruined it all. All he could do was bitch. Or look at Brian with those sullen looks, and refuse to answer any questions.
Brian turned back to the emergency kit. Pack of razors, kept him clean shaven, but not much more than that. Shaving without soap sucked, but he’d managed. Justin had refused; he had a thin beard coming in. It was not his thing, that was for sure. Some antibiotic cream, a few band-aids, medical tape. A couple of rain slickers, folded tight up in packs. The water and power bars, almost gone. A sewing kit, flashlight. Batteries worked in that one, but weakly, so they were almost dead. Of course. How long since anyone had checked this boat? Outside of that godamn party raid, that is… Yeah, it hadn’t been his job, but he should have… well, regrets were stupid. What was done was done. At least this thing stored matches, which Brian slipped into his shirt pocket. He shivered in the cool night air, and clutched the overshirt around him, glad he had thrown it on over the t-shirt, but wishing he had taken his windbreaker as well. He was in better shape than the other man, curled up in the other side of the boat, in any case.
He turned his gaze back to the immense fields of ocean, stretching out to the horizon. Off in the distance, he saw the spout of a whale, and he drew in his breath.
“What?” The soft voice from the other end of the boat startled him, but Brian just nodded. Justin looked over, in time to see the flukes rising out of the water which in turn ran off the dark fins, cascading back to the ocean’s surface, sparkling in the glow of moonlight.
“Shit, I hope they kill us, just like that movie, put us out of our misery” Justin muttered, huddling back into the boat, curling up and closing his eyes.
Brian glared at him, and turned back to watch the huge creature in the distance.
Four days. The water was coming close to running out. Justin was moaning in the back of the boat. The skin at his throat was a nasty red. He kept glaring at Brian, who had taken to reciting Shakespeare sonnets and soliloquies, Frost poems, even song lyrics to amuse himself.
“What the fuck is that?” Justin had finally opened his mouth to say.
“You don’t know Shakespeare? ‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds…’”
“Okay, okay! You don’t need to repeat it! Sheesh.”
“You’d think a poor little rich boy would have received a better education…”
“I got it. Just didn’t recognize it right away. ‘My mistress’s hair is nothing like the sun…’ Yeah, Shakespeare, right.”
Brian turned away, continued to recite, “It is the star to every wand’ring bark, whose worth’s unknown, though its height be taken…” Bullshit. But better than silence, filled with sighs from the other end of the boat.
“Hey, isn’t that land?” Justin’s comment was so casual that Brian didn’t at first grasp what he’d just said. He whipped his head around, and saw the almost invisible grayish-purple outline, just coming into sight, an island rising out of the water, in the distance.
“Hey! That is land!” Justin realized what he’d just said. “It’s land!”
“Yeah, thank god,” Brian replied, watching the dim outline coming into view. Let’s hope it has something to eat.
“So? Get out!”
“What?” Brian had no idea what this kid was talking about.
“Get into the water! Push us!” Justin actually moved across the boat and started pushing on Brian’s arm, almost shoving him off balance over the side. The little shit was stronger than he looked.
But not stronger than Brian. “Sit down!” Brian told him, pushing him back on the seat. “You see how the island’s getting easier to see? It’s coming closer. We’re being pulled in with the tide. If we weren’t, any pushing isn’t going to make a difference. That’s how we got swept out in the first place. Get it?”
Justin reluctantly sat, and stared at the island. Then he cut his gaze back to Brian. “Think they’ll have phones?”
They dragged the boat up the beach… well, Brian dragged the boat up the beach. Justin had merely gotten out once the boat hit the sandy bottom of the shoal and marched up, looking around.
It was a decent-sized island. The beach they stood on was long, and wide; at the top where the sand ended, trees stood, mostly palms, Brian noted thankfully, looking at the coconuts and feeling the saliva rise in his mouth. To the right, the land rose sharply upward toward high mountainous jungle. The beach didn’t end, but swept around the headland. He had watched from the ocean, and thought it probably curved around to the back side of the island.
It was the only land in sight, and obviously deserted.
“This is great. Just fucking great!” Justin was yelling at the jungle which stretched up toward the foot of the sharp rise. Brian wondered if it was volcanic. Luckily, the growth of greenery on the slope upward in the distance implied that if so, it was long dormant. He dragged the boat up to the top of the sand, and into the trees a ways, putting it down, and retrieving the emergency kit. He shrugged off his shirt, and stored it in the boat.
He turned around, to see Justin standing there. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “Well… what?”
“What now? Do we build a bonfire? Signal the rescue planes?”
“Yeah, you see any rescue planes?” Brian smirked, and turned back to the boat.
Silence. Brian wondered if the idiot was actually searching the skies. He didn’t really give a shit. He was opening the emergency kit, and getting out the screwdriver.
“Well, what the fuck do we do now?”
“I don’t know about you,” Brian said, “But I am going to go check out the island.”
“Fine, bring me back something to eat,” Justin commanded. With that, he flopped down next to the boat, in the shade, and pulled the hat over his face.
“Hey!” Brian yelled. Justin tilted the hat up, and opened one eye. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? It’s going to be dark soon, we have to get our asses in gear.”
“Oh, leave me alone. I have a headache,” and the eye closed again, the hat back in place.
Brian stared at him for a moment. Then he walked over, and placed one foot on either side of the boy’s hips. Justin opened his eyes, and almost squawked when he saw Brian towering over him. He lifted himself up on his elbows, and glared.
Brian spat down, “Look. We’re on a deserted island. You have a headache because you’re dehydrated. We have to find water, or something to drink. It’s getting dark, and we need to get something to burn. Unless you want to keep freezing at night?”
“Yeah? And I’m tired, I think the sun sucked all the energy out of me. You’ll forgive me if I need a second to catch my breath, maybe just take a minute.” Justin flashed a smile upward. Brian’s breath caught in his throat; that was the first time that particular winsome look had been turned in his direction. Shit. No wonder this kid was able to get away with all he did. Brian was no idiot; he knew this was just one more game. Another game at his expense. Still, his stomach… he told himself the tightness was from hunger. Fine, the kid wanted to play? Fine. He did not know what game playing was. Brian turned and stalked away. He had signed onto this stupid cruise to get away from the bullshit. And here he’d run into it all over again, but on such a petty, stupid level… this kid had no idea who he thought he was playing. He was about to find out.
When Justin woke up, he could see the glow of a fire a short ways away. It was dark, and his tongue felt fuzzy. Thirst clawed at his throat. He picked up the water bottle he had taken from the boat, the last of the water. He drank a final gulp, which appeased his thirst, but only made him more aware of how long it had been since he had eaten. He could see, against the firelight, Brian sitting on a rock or something, working on a long, narrow stick. The boat was propped up behind him, upside down and propped up on one end by a stick, forming a crude shelter. Justin stood, and moved closer. Brian looked up from where he was whittling the end of the long stick into a point. When he saw Justin, he clicked his jackknife back down, and slipped it into his front pocket, setting the stick aside. Justin saw there were three or four of those sharply pointed things lying on the ground behind the other man. Brian turned to his other side, and picked up a shell of some sort. Or, no. Coconut, cleaved in half. Peeled a chunk away from the tender center, popped it into his mouth. Justin’s mouth watered.
“Give me some,” Justin said.
Brian slowly turned his head to look at the boy approaching the fire. Insolently, he picked out another piece of the coconut, and brought it to his lips. “Milk’s pretty good. Too bad you missed it. Slightly bitter, but not bad,” he said.
“So give me some!”
Brian raised an eyebrow. “Well, first. Let me ask you something. Exactly why is it that you think you can order me around?”
Justin stared at him, his mouth dropping open.
Brian continued, “Do you really think because you have a ton of money? or do you think I’m some monkey, to just jump at the command of your wealth and social cachet? Do you really think that makes any difference here?”
“You’re going to let me starve to death? Or thirst to death! Because you have some, what, political issue?” Justin choked out, disbelieving.
Brian’s calm answer stood in stark contrast to the outrage in the other man’s voice. “Oh, no. Not a political issue. Purely personal. I’m all done with you thinking you can command me, play with me, and your word makes your every wish come true. Bout time you start learning, it don’t work that way. All the money in the world won’t let you play that here. All that money your family gave you, it don’t mean shit to me.”
“Do you know who my father is?” Justin demanded.
“Yup.” He did indeed know exactly who Craig Taylor was. Owner of a string of swank hotels, more money than god.
“Look, you help me out, and my father will give you a huge reward. Hell, I’ll give you a ton of money myself. Guaranteed.” Justin crossed his arms, confident.
A confidence that evaporated with Brian’s next word. “No.” Brian eyed the play of the firelight over Justin’s features as they collapsed into outrage. He picked out another piece of the coconut, and ate it. “Maybe I could see my way to giving you some of this,” he mused, almost to himself.
“Well, good! The voice of reason!”
“Take off your shirt.”
It took Justin a minute to absorb what Brian had just said. “What?”
“Strip. Slow, you know. Like you did on the yacht. Give me a nice show. I want to see those sweet pecs you’ve got.”
“You think I’m going to put on a show for you? For food?”
“Sure,” Brian chuckled, his gaze not rising above Justin’s neck line. “You did it often enough on the yacht for nothing. Treated me like I’m some kind of animal, some toy for your amusement. Dick on demand, game to get up the poor deluded working man, flaunting yourself, fucking teasing me for weeks. Getting off on it. So. Strip. I want you to get me off for once.” My turn to play, Brian thought, raising his eyes to Justin’s outraged face.
“No fucking way!”
“Fine. Starve to death.”
“You can’t do this!”
“Watch me.” Brian picked out the rest of the coconut, dropped the shell on the sandy ground.
“You’re a sick fucking shit. Just wait until we’re rescued, you are so going to pay for this.” Justin turned and stomped away.
Brian smirked. Yeah, maybe he would pay. But not tonight. In the meantime, that had been fun. He placed a few larger pieces of wood onto the fire, sure they would smolder through the night, keep the fire going. He didn’t want to waste matches. God knew how long they’d be here. Then he lay down, the fire warming his back, a smile playing over his lips as he replayed the way Justin’s perfect ass had looked as he stomped off. “Mine,” Brian promised himself.
Justin returned to the camp site later the next day, when Brian started cooking the fish. It had taken him the whole morning to find them, as he explored the waterline of the island. Around the spit that formed a hairpin turn in the beachline, there was a rocky cove on the other side of the island from where they had washed up. The beach yielded to rocks, forming a deepening pool, a drop-off that allowed the fish to come right up to the shore line. Brian had climbed over the rocks that lined this backside of the island, before he was stopped by the sudden upward slope that began to yield to the mountain that continued far back, to the island’s far end. It had taken him two hours to trace the beach that curved around the arm at the top of the island, to reach the cove at the far side, where the fish swarmed. After that, it had taken him another hour to figure out the right trajectory of the spears he had carved the night before, realizing that the water created a sort of magnifying effect, so that the spear had to be thrown slightly in front of where the fish appeared to be. He managed to spear five fish, not a bad catch. Still, it had taken forever; he hoped this would get easier with time. The rocks formed little pools that began to fill and overflow as the tide came in, and Brian noted crabs scurrying about. He made a mental note to return for them. As he returned, he made another mental note to check out the boat’s engine, to see if there was anything that could be turned into a hook for fishing. Much easier, more relaxing, for sure.
He was starving, and exhausted, by the time he returned to his original camp site, and found Justin laid out under the shade of the boat.
“Don’t suppose you can scale fish?” Brian asked, not surprised by the grimace Justin turned to him.
“Please… Brian…” Justin rasped. Brian turned and looked at him sharply. “Thirsty…”
Brian sighed, and put the stick with the fish speared through to the side, before picking up one of the coconuts he had tossed to the side. “Couldn’t figure out how to open one of these on your own?” he asked, not expecting the obvious answer. He took the screwdriver from where he had left it in the box underneath the boat, and picked up the rock he had cast to the side the night before, placed the fruit on another, flat rock, and knocked the rock against the screwdriver against the shell, until it broke open, spilling a bit of milk. “Come here.” He held out the shell.
Justin practically flew over, and grabbed the shell, raising it to his lips and gulping. He didn’t notice Brian’s hand in his hair until his thirst had been slaked, but when he finished, he was kept in place by the firm grip, his head being tilted back by the fingers firmly gripping at him. “What, exactly, can you contribute here? How will you pull your own weight?”
Justin tried to twist away.
“Ah ah ah,” Brian reprimanded him, keeping his grip firm, eyes tracing those lips, the coconut milk dripping from the edge. “You going to just pull away from my desires, when you’ll just get hungry, or thirsty, again? Careful there.” Justin went still, his eyes shooting resentment even as he looked away. Brian brought his other hand to wipe the drop of milk at the corner of Justin’s mouth away with his thumb. Justin licked his lips, almost reflexively. Shit, Brian thought, it has been way too long… He thrust Justin away from him, expecting him to scramble off, but Justin just leaned back on his elbows, sprawled out where he was thrown, studying the other man.
“You think you can at least keep the fire going while I’m gone?” Brian snapped at him, turning to the smoldering wood that he had banked earlier that morning.
“Can’t keep your own fires up?” Justin snarked back.
“Look, you idiot,” Brian responded, losing patience, “we have like twelve matches. Do you get that?”
“So? Someone will come.” Justin sat up, circling his arms around his legs and resting his head on his knees, watching Brian rebuild the fire.
Brian shook his head. The kid was in denial. He himself had seen not a glimpse of a boat, not a trace of any sort of aircraft, not in the entire time they had been drifting, and god knew how far the tide had taken them, if this island was even on any maps. There were hundreds of these atolls dotting the Pacific. And he knew no one would be looking for him, not for a while, if at all, although Craig Taylor would probably blanket the area as soon as reports of his missing son came up. But Brian had learned never to count on faith in other people’s actions; he figured he’d best prepare for the worst. Only the foolish trusted fate to provide. You had to take care of yourself in this world.
And fuck, it’s not my job to take care of this spoiled brat, he thought, glancing at Justin, who was eyeing the coconut. “You hungry?” Brian asked.
Justin nodded reluctantly.
“Ever clean fish?”
Justin shook his head. Of course not.
“Time to learn. Go get me one of those palm leaves. Go!” He barked, when Justin seemed to hesitate. Justin got up and walked toward the jungle behind them, while Brian took the jack knife out of his pocket, and slid one of the fish off of the spear. Justin came back in a moment with three large leaves.
“Good boy,” Brian said drily, taking one of the leaves and placing it on the flat rock.
“Woof woof,” Justin answered, using the same tone.
Brian smiled wolfishly, but said nothing. “So, watch.” He slid the knife blade underneath the gill on one side of the fish, and neatly slid the blade through the head. He opened another attachment on the tool, a fork. With this, he scooped out the guts, and then ran it up the body of the fish, so that the scales popped off. He scraped it clean, then placed it on one of the other leaves, for washing. “Think you can handle it?” he asked Justin, tossing him the jack knife.
He couldn’t. Between the grimaces, the moans, and finally, one large yelp when he almost cut his finger off (according to Justin; but it was barely a sliver which didn’t even raise any blood), Brian finally snatched the knife and the fish from him, and told him to go find some more wood. “Make sure it’s dry!” Which of course didn’t prevent the kid from coming back with mostly green sticks.
“You’re totally useless, you know that?” Brian said to him, as Justin looked sullenly away. Brian had finished cleaning the fish, and used one of Justin’s green sticks to start cooking the fish over the stoked-up fire. Maybe if he sent him out for green sticks, Brian thought, he’d come back with a few dry pieces of wood for the fire. The sun had descended behind the mountain, so they were in the shadows of the coming night, while the light continued to sparkle off the ocean, the waves plashing onto the shore in a pinkish froth.
Brian looked away from the descending day, over to the boy on the other side of the fire, who had been ignoring him all the time he prepared the evening meal. Brian was starving himself, but he had at least eaten that morning. He could only imagine how Justin was doing. “Hungry?” he called.
Justin’s head snapped up, and he looked warily over. But his eyes gave him away; too eager. “Gonna strip for me now?”
Justin came up on his knees as his arms dropped to his sides, and then, with a vicious jerk, he pulled the shirt off of his torso, threw it aside, crossed his arms over his belly. The gold hoop through his nipple glinted with the firelight.
“That’s not very sexy,” Brian purred, taunting him. He picked up a flake of the white, steaming fish, held it out in his fingers, his hand extended. “Crawl to me, baby.”
“I’m not your baby,” Justin snapped.
Brian just raised an eyebrow. “Fine, be my dog. Crawl to me, puppy.”
An immediate reaction of outrage. But suddenly, the mutinous look on Justin’s face disappeared, wiped away. Brian could practically see the wheels turning in that devious brain. Hm, what was this? The arms around his waist dropped, and Justin licked his lips, running his hands up his torso, pausing to flick the nipple ring, before dropping onto all fours. He practically stalked around the fire, like a cat, not at all awkward as he moved forward on his hands and knees. Brian stared, transfixed. The boy’s physical grace, when he chose to employ it, was startling, and unexpected. Justin reached Brian’s extended hand, and opened his mouth, his tongue unfurling to lick at the bit of food on the fingertips before him. He moved forward a bit more, so his mouth encircled Brian’s index and middle finger, the lips closing around them, his tongue sweeping around from the knuckles onto the sensitive flesh of the pads, sweeping the food off and into his mouth, swallowing, but continuing to suck on Brian’s skin, before releasing the fingers with a final nip on their ends. Then he sat back, his hands resting on his thighs, face smug as he watched Brian watching him. Brian remained expressionless but he was fighting to control his breathing, and could not control the sudden surge of blood to his dick. He reached out, ran his hand down Justin’s neck, to the nipple ring, and pulled. Justin drew in his breath, closed his eyes. Brian picked up some more of the fish, and fed it to him, before taking some for himself.
Finally, his stomach was satiated, but the rest of him wasn’t. He stood up, shedding his shirt, practically ripping his t-shirt as he pulled it over his head and threw it aside. He dropped next to Justin, pushing him back onto the sand and grabbing the cord that held up those damn linen pants, pulling, pushing Justin’s trousers away.
“Don’t!” Justin protested, making Brian pause, but only for a moment. He grabbed Justin’s hip, and held him down as he straddled his body, raising himself above him, his thighs holding the other man immobile, as he reached down to open his own pants. “What, don’t like what you started?”
“I started! You started this! You’re making me…”
“Who started this?” Brian leaned down, and grabbed the hands that were batting at his thighs, drawing them over Justin’s head, and held them there, imprisoned. “You may not think that all that teasing on board your boyfriend’s yacht meant anything, but I was the one who had to go below with a bunch of homophobic assholes while you got to work off the sweat I put you into. Admit it, you were fantasizing about me the whole time you were fucking Ian…”
“Ethan!” Justin gasped, as Brian’s mouth descended onto his neck, nipping the flesh there.
Brian transferred Justin’s wrists into one hand, so that his other hand traced the pale flesh, down his stomach, brushing against the tip of his prodigious hard on. “Tell me you don’t want this. Your body’s got another answer for me,” he smirked, barely brushing the shaft beneath him, Justin’s groans sounding sweet to his ears. He pushed his hips forward, unable to stop himself, grinding out his own singing sensations against the other’s body, rocking against him. Justin whimpered, and began to lift his hips in rhythm. He was young, and used to getting his needs met; Brian watched his face as his mouth dropped open when Brian’s hand took Justin’s prick in his warm palm and squeezed lightly, his thumb moving up over the shaft to sweep against the leakage at the head. He raised himself on his knees, not letting go of his grip on Justin, as he positioned himself over the open mouth, and slowly descended, watching through drooping lids as Justin’s mouth instinctively imitated the motions it had earlier applied to Brian’s fingers, only this time to Brian’s straining cock. It took only a moment for Justin’s muffled moans to descend to a swallowed scream as he came into Brian’s hand, and Brian pressed his palm against him once more, before he released his grip, and rolled to his side, taking the boy’s head in both of his arms and pulling him hard against his groin as he deep-throated, his own explosion following in seconds. He lay, stunned and breathless, listening to the ragged breath against his belly, the sudden limpness of the body pressed against his. Then he rolled away, refastening his jeans, and reaching for his shirt. “Get rid of those guts, toss them in the ocean, make yourself useful,” he spat out at Justin. The blue eyes stared at him, almost sightless for a moment, before they cleared, and he slowly pushed his naked body into a sitting position. Brian turned back to the fire, noticing it had died down. “Go, damn it!” He watched Justin shakily reach for the garbage, and move away, toward the ocean, not bothering to clothe himself. Then he leaned forward, and stoked the fire with one of the larger pieces of wood that lay nearby. He watched Justin’s pale flesh, barely visible at the water’s edge, and refused to think of anything at all.