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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Millennium - 10. Chapter 10

November 11, 1999

I looked out the windows as the plane banked over Las Vegas, making its final approach into McCarran Airport. Off to the west, the sun was setting, a beautiful sight. There was something about sunsets in the desert that made them different. Personally, I thought it was all the dust in the air, but they were pretty nonetheless.

“So you decided to bring me to Vegas?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” he said mysteriously.

“It looks like Vegas to me,” I told him.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he replied.

“You coming back here tomorrow with Carson?” I teased. That made him uncomfortable.

“No. We’re going to Palm Springs. I thought about cancelling and having us spend the whole weekend here, but you’re going away with Will anyway.” A nice rationalization on his part.

“So why Palm Springs?” I probed.

“His mother lives there,” Robbie said reluctantly.

I started laughing to hide how I really felt. “He’s taking you home to meet his mother? You’re not even divorced yet.”

“It’s not like that, and that’s not funny,” he snapped.

“It is like that, and you’re right, it’s not funny,” I said severely, shocking the shit out of him. The plane touched down and I forced myself into a better mood, no mean feat. “So where are you taking me?”

“To Paris,” he said as he led me down the stairs to the waiting limo. I saw the pilots put a bag in the trunk.

“Paris?”

“Yeah, to Paris. Come on, you’ll see,” he said. The limo drove down the Strip, past all the gaudy neon lights, and we were about halfway there when I saw the huge hotel off in the distance, the Paris hotel, complete with a fake Eiffel Tower, French architecture, and an Arc de Triomphe.

“Very clever,” I said, but beamed at him to let him know how much I appreciated him trying to make me happy. We pulled up to the hotel and there was a special concierge waiting for us.

“Bonjour Monsieur Hayes,” he said. “Bonjour Monsieur Schluter.”

“Bonjour,” I said pleasantly in my perfectly accented French. “Ça va?”

“Uh, we don’t speak French, they just make us say ‘Bonjour’,” he said uncomfortably. “If you will follow me, we will show you directly to your suite.” I put my arm in Robbie’s and followed the concierge through the property, which of course meant the casino, and then up to our room. The door said “Charlemagne Suite,” and inside it was opulent. Done in French décor, it had a bedroom, a sitting room, and a dining room. The dining room table was already set up with two place settings and unlit candles.

“I thought we could explore the hotel, and then have dinner in an hour and a half,” Robbie announced.

“It will be ready for you,” the concierge said. I stopped him and whispered something in his ear, and he looked at me, shocked by my request, then smiled. “Of course,” he said, and vanished.

“I didn’t bring you here so you could hit on the staff,” Robbie said playfully.

“This is really nice,” I said. I gave him a kiss, a really intense kiss, a kiss that told him how much I loved him, and he kissed me right back. “Show me Paris.”

We strolled through the casino, even played a couple of hands of black jack, and then ended up shopping at the little mall they had. I saw the tourists looking in and balking at the prices. I didn’t blame them, it was expensive. But for me, it was like a playground: All the coolest things in one spot. And the service was spectacular. I didn’t even have to carry bags; they sent a cute boy off to take my purchases up to the room.

Robbie looked at his watch. “I think dinner should almost be ready.” We went back to the suite and found a waiter there, with appetizers already on our plates. He opened a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses, and then left us alone.

He lifted his glass and I lifted mine. “In this whole world, in this whole universe, you are the most important person to me. You are the one I love the most.” I felt my eyes watering up, and I couldn’t stop them. I felt the tears roll down my face, and saw the same thing happening to him.

“You’re making it really hard to break up with you,” I said, trying to joke my way out of this heavy emotional place he’d taken us to.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Just wait until next weekend.”

“Next weekend?”

He smiled. “You are free, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m free,” I said. I almost said no. I loved him so much, that if I kept down this road, let him do this, let him win me back, and he decided in the end he wanted to be with Carson, they’d probably have to hospitalize me. But he was worth the risk. “So what do you have planned after dinner?”

“I’m going to take you through those doors,” he said, pointing at the bedroom, “and I’m going to make love to you all night long.”

“Pretty much my dream getaway,” I said, flirting with him. He blushed and smiled, and gave me his adorable grin, the one that always melted me. “I still remember the way you looked when I first ran into you at the Festival in Claremont.”

“I was a lot cuter then,” he said, only there was a sadness in his voice that ripped at my heart.

“No, actually, you weren’t. You’re cuter and more handsome now.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said, but smiled. “You’re just saying that so I’ll forget about the bald spot I’m getting, and the way my face is getting fat.”

“No, I’m not. I always thought you had amazing looks, always, but when you were younger, you looked goofier. Made you kind of dorky.”

“Ha ha ha,” he said, but he was smiling.

“Now, that’s gone, and you look so much more handsome and desirable. Your face is fuller, and that’s a good thing. It makes you look strong and solid. It’s really masculine. And it makes your chin seemed more pronounced. You always had a small chin, and it kind of made you look like a pussy,” I teased, just to lighten the mood.

“Do you remember what I said to you the first time you called me a pussy?” he asked.

“Like it was yesterday. We were lying on that field, watching fireworks, and you told me that you’d kick my ass later when you weren’t so stoned.” He gaped at me, amazed that I’d remember that.

“I remember falling into the Bay,” he said. “I remember so much more than you probably know.” That had been horrible. We’d broken up, and I was trying so hard to get him back. We’d gone up to The City and I was taking us to Alcatraz. I’d kissed him, and some hick from Oklahoma had gotten so pissed at seeing two guys kissing that he’d slammed Robbie in the head with a fire extinguisher and knocked him unconscious into the bay.

“That was awful,” I said.

“No it wasn’t,” he told me. “I remember everything. That morning, when you and Tonto were giving me shit, I could see right through you, see how sincere you were, how much you loved me. I kind of just sat there thinking about it, and then when we got ready to go, we took the limo, we didn’t drive.”

“Why was that such a big deal?”

“Because you had planned it out so carefully. You cared so much you were doing your best to make sure it was perfect.”

“Kind of how you’re doing now,” I said, smiling.

He grinned. “I knew I’d take you back even before you came home from Malibu. I just wanted you to prove that you loved me.”

“Asshole,” I said, but it was playful.

“You had to go down there and be with Lark, and think about what really mattered to you, and get your shit together,” he said. “Then, once you figured it all out, you had to come back up to Paly and win me back.”

“And that’s what you have to do right now,” I said. He nodded. “Only when I came back, I found you an inch away from fucking Jake, and Doug Childers already had his hooks in you.”

“You had to take the risk, and so do I,” he said. “I remember falling into the water. I couldn’t move, my body couldn’t function, but I remember everything. I remember that the water was really fucking cold, and after I fell in it seemed like I just kept sinking deeper and deeper. I was a little worried until I heard a splash near me. I knew it would be you, and I knew that I would be safe. It seemed like I was under the water forever, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, but I felt myself rising up and finally my head broke the surface and I could breathe. And then you were there. You were so warm, and I could just feel your love. It was one of the most beautiful things I ever experienced in my life.”

The waiter had come in and replaced our appetizer bowls with a salad, and we hadn’t even noticed until the plates were set down. He was trying to remain impassive, like he hadn’t been listening, but his eyes were watering. I had to try hard not to laugh. He left us alone again, and we started eating our salads.

I thought about how I’d felt during that time. “I kept thinking about how much progress we made, and how I thought we might actually end up back together, and then you end up in a coma in the bay. I thought there was a decent chance you’d wake up and hate me, but that was much better than you not waking up at all.”

“No, there was no chance I’d hate you. No chance. The whole time I was in the hospital, you were there. I don’t remember a single time when I was awake that you weren’t with me. I kept thinking to myself, damn, this guy really loves me. And then my parents came out, and my fucking mother tried to make me go to Jesus school. I lay in bed that night before I was discharged, and I thought about them, my parents, and you. It was like a contest, to see who loved me more. You won.”

“I’ve loved you since I met you,” I told him. I’d given up trying to stop the tears. “What did I do wrong? When did you stop loving me back?”

“I never stopped loving you back. Never. Not when I was with Neil, not now.”

“Then why?” I asked. The waiter returned and picked up our empty salad plates. I realized that I’d been eating this wonderful meal and not even noticing it. He replaced them with our entrees.

“You know, you broke one of your promises,” he said.

“Oh yeah? I’m evidently a God-fearing man now, so you’d best not question my integrity.”

He laughed. “You did. You lied to me. You said we’d grow old together.”

“I’m more than willing to grow old with you,” I told him. “I expected to end up in the same casket decaying away with you.”

“But you aren’t growing old,” he told me.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t get it.

He stood up and led me over to the mirror and stood behind me. He ran his fingers through my hair. “See, it’s as thick as is always was.” He took his hands and gently caressed my cheek bones. “Still thin, still taut.” He ran his fingers across my forehead. “Not a wrinkle to be found.”

“If I’m so fucking young, why do you need a young lover to help you feel young when you’ve already got one?” I asked, only I wasn’t nice about it.

“I don’t know Brad. I’m going to spend some time with David over the next few weeks, three to be exact, to try to figure that out.” I looked into his eyes, through the mirror, and smiled at him.

“Will you want dessert?” the waiter asked, watching us from next to the table and smiling at us.

“I want multiple desserts,” I said, and led Robbie back to the table. “You remember that dinner we had in Yosemite, when we were both 17?”

“Yeah,” Robbie said grinning, knowing where I was going. Our waiter unveiled a marvelous soufflé.

“You remember how we invited that waiter back to our room, and how we let him watch us fuck?” We looked over at our waiter, whose pants were tenting big time.

“He was a lucky guy,” he said. “Will that be all?”

“It will,” Robbie said. He signed off on the check, and even though the gratuity was included, he gave the guy a hundred dollar bill on top of it.

“Thank you sir. As generous as you are, I still think the waiter in Yosemite got a better deal.” We all laughed and he left the room.

“Am I still gonna get laid?” Robbie asked, as he held out his hand and led me to the bedroom.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “And in fact, I have a surprise for you.” We walked into the room and there, next to the bed, were three big jars of Vaseline. We both started laughing.

“Brad, we don’t have to do that, I’m happy if we just make love,” he said.

I made my hand into the “shape of the duck”, with my fingers clenched together, the position they were in when I fisted him, and then I ran that hand across his cheek sensually. His pants were really tenting now, and he swallowed nervously. “I really want to,” I said, using my sexiest voice. “I want to make love to you, really slow, and then I want to do it.” Then I smiled at him. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“Fuck that,” he said, and started ripping his clothes off. He was about to jump in bed but I stopped him and led him to the bathroom.

“There’s no hurry,” I told him as I stroked his dick. “We have all night.” I led him into the shower. There were a whole bunch of body wash products there, and we just relaxed and had a blast, trying different ones out and laughing. We didn’t fuck; we just played around and had a good time. But I was really horny now, and so was he, so we grabbed some towels and dried off on our way back to the bed. He lay on his back and I lay on top of him, kissing him passionately. I grabbed one of the tubs of Vaseline and lubed up my dick, then pushed gently against his hole, asking for admittance and getting it. My dick was big enough that I could do this, lie on top of him and almost fuck him like a girl while I kissed him. From a pure fucking standpoint, it wasn’t as much fun because I couldn’t get in all the way, but for making love, it was heaven.

“Oh Brad, I love you so much. You feel so good, so fucking good,” he moaned, as I pushed slowly in and out.

“You think this is good, you just wait,” I told him. “Wait until I’m done, after I blast my load, and then I push my hand up your ass and really bring you off.”

“Ahhh!” he moaned, his mind was so aroused it set me off.

“I’m gonna cum baby. I’m gonna cum.” I pulled out and knelt over him, stroking my dick until I came. I blasted my load all over his chest and his abdomen, all the while watching his dick throb as I did. I lay next to him, panting, catching my breath and kissing him.

“Please Brad, please, do it, do what I like,” he begged. I started stroking his hole with my hand while I grabbed a bunch of Vaseline and slathered it all over. He spread his legs wide, begging me to enter him. I made my fist into the right shape and gently started to push in.

“Stop, go slow,” he said as the enormous pressure began to stretch him. We knew this, knew how it worked. He was in charge until I was in, and then he was all mine.

“You’re so tight baby. We haven’t been doing this enough. We need to do this more,” I said. He moaned and pushed back into me, my sign to push in more. He stopped me again. “Come on you big pussy. You can take more than that,” I teased. He laughed and moaned and laughed again. This was why I liked this, having fun with him like this, enjoying him. It took a long time, because we hadn’t done it in a while, but finally I was through, almost with a pop. I gently stroked the inside of his body, long, caring, fluid movements to show him that I loved him and that he was safe.

Then I moved in and did what he really liked. I started playing with his prostate. He threw his head back, grabbed the sheets with his hands, and let out a loud, guttural roar. I flicked my fingers over his gland, sometimes light touches, sometimes hard pressure. I knew his body so well; I could keep him excited like this forever. This is something Carson couldn’t do for him, at least not without a lot of practice. This was something only I could do; only I could bring him to this level of ecstasy.

He was getting desperate now. He needed to cum. I’d learned just where that point was, where any more stimulation would diminish what I was doing, not enhance it. I took his hand and rubbed it over his chest. “Eat my cum,” I ordered. He whimpered. “After you eat it all, I’ll make you blow.” He liked that, liked it when I ordered him around. He was frantic, scooping my cum that hadn’t yet dried and slurping it up. Damn he made me horny.

“You ready to cum now baby? You ready?” I said, and I started doing his favorite thing. I took my knuckle and started running it in a circular motion around his prostate.

“Yeah Brad, make me cum, oh shit, oh shit, you’re gonna do it. Oh shit!” And then he came. He shrieked, a yell, and then a loud roar, as cum started to shoot out of his dick. He came and came and came: I used my fingers to squeeze every last drop out of him. When he was done, he lay there, panting and spent, just smiling down at me. Normally I would have started to pull out by now, but instead, I gently stroked the walls of his intestine, soothing him and bringing him down gently. I had a point to make.

He looked down at me, happy, but a little worried. I moved up next to him as I started to pull out, flicking my tongue across his abdomen and his chest, licking up and eating his load as I did. “I’d never do that to you, never,” I said, as I pulled my fist out slowly. We both thought of Neil, his former boyfriend who had gotten him into this and had used it as a tool to control him. “This is too beautiful, too intimate, to ever ruin with that.” Tears began to pour out of his eyes. This was such an intense bonding experience, that it tore off all of his defenses, and exposed the man behind the shields, even if he didn’t want himself to be exposed.

I saw a confused little boy. He loved me, he loved me deeply, but he had a new toy, Carson, and Carson had a hold on him too. Only Carson’s hold wasn’t as strong, and Carson’s grip over him would eventually weaken. It was only a matter of time. I wiped off my hand and went up to lie on his chest like I enjoyed doing after sex, but I sensed his vulnerability so we switched roles. I lay down and pulled him to me and stroked his strong shoulders and soft lower back, telling him over and over again that I loved him. We fell asleep like that, and once he was done venting his pain, we did so with smiles on our faces.

 

November 12, 1999

They loaded the bags from the limo onto the plane while we climbed the stairs and got comfortable. “You bought a lot of shit,” he said.

“At least half of it is for you. Have to have you all primped up for when you meet Carson’s mother,” I said, teasing him. He frowned at me, but I ignored him. “If you’re going to put me through this, you have to let me have some fun by giving you shit,” I said playfully, but with a tone that let him know I was serious too.

“If you say so,” he said.

“Won’t you feel like an idiot if you meet his mom and find out you went to high school with her?” I joked, rubbing it in.

“More chance of that happening with Kevin,” he said.

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t bother me. I found the fountain of youth,” I told him.

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“Didn’t you listen to that lady that sold me that shit for my face? She told me it would take ten years off of me.”

He laughed. “Yeah, because it’s really Nair, and you’ll end up looking like you’re not even shaving yet.”

“Whatever works. So when do you leave, and how long will you be gone?” I asked.

“You want my whole itinerary?” he asked, a little irritated.

“No, I just want to try to be around when you get back,” I said, probably sounding not a little pathetic.

He sensed my mood and moved over to wrap himself around me. “I get back on Sunday, probably in the evening. If you want, we can do dinner.”

“I want,” I told him. “What about next weekend?”

“You are officially blocked out from Friday afternoon until late Sunday night,” he said. “Unless you can get away longer.”

I pulled out my calendar. “That’s the weekend before Thanksgiving. I have nothing planned until Wednesday, when we need to be at Escorial. Why don’t we go up there early?”

“So you can have some time with Kevin?” he asked.

“Yeah, and maybe some time with Kevin and you. Or Lou. Or Marcel.”

“Just not Matt,” he demanded.

 

“I told you, as long as we’re together, he’s off limits.” I knew why he was saying that. He read me like a book, and he’d picked up on the secret fantasy/crush I’d developed for Matt.

“That’s blackmail,” he said, trying to make it sound like he was teasing me.

“I prefer to think of it as an added benefit to not being a complete fucking idiot and letting me slip away,” I said, being all cocky. I called the house and had Rosa pack up a few of my things and send them down to the plane with Will. I’d noticed that we’d started our descent and then stopped and now we were circling in a holding pattern. Fucking LAX.

“You’re not coming home?” Robbie asked.

“No. Why fight traffic on a Friday. I’ll let you do that all by yourself.”

“Makes sense, but sucks for me,” he said.

“It does,” I said. “Suck for you, that is.” I reached down and rubbed his crotch, getting him really hard, and then pulled out his dick and gave him one great blow job.

“Thanks. Damn that was good,” he said, and gave me a kiss. “What about you?” He reached for my dick.

“Don’t worry about me,” I told him with a cheeky grin. “I’m going to hit on the pilots as soon as you leave.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had all year,” Keith said, smiling, standing over us. “Sorry to interrupt, but we got a window to land. We should be on the ground shortly.”

“No problem,” I said, and winked at him. Robbie seethed with jealousy, which I ignored.

Just as he was about to give me shit, the phone rang. “Brad Schluter,” I said in a business voice, cracking Robbie up, and Will too, since he was the caller.

“Will Schluter here,” he said, deepening his voice and doing a really bad impression of me. I laughed. “Hey Dad, can I bring Jason and Jordan along?”

“Jordan wants to come with you?” I asked. Jason didn’t surprise me. He was Will’s age, and he was Will’s best friend, Will’s version of Lark. Jordan did surprise me. Jordan was his surfing coach. He was a walking wet dream. Nineteen years old and blond, the quintessential surfer.

“Yeah,” Will said. “He said he can finally catch some decent waves. Ours have been lame as hell.” I heard some mumbling in the background and guessed it was Jordan. They were probably in the car and Will hadn’t told him he hadn’t cleared it with me. The poor guy was probably freaking out.

“It’s just fine. Let me talk to Jordan.” Will said nothing, just handed the phone off.

“Hey Brad,” he said with his sexy nasal surf accent.

“I hear you’re coming with us. That’s awesome,” I said. “Maybe I can finally teach you how to do that 360.”

“Dude, we’ll see who teaches who,” he said. “We’ll be there in a few.”

We finally landed and got all of Robbie’s stuff sorted out, and then he was on his way. I called the car and found out that Will was stuck in traffic, still a good half hour away. I took out some of my papers and started reading them. The co-pilot came out of the cabin and turned back to talk to Keith. “I’ll go firm up that flight plan.” He pushed the cabin door closed behind him and strutted down the stairs like pilots do.

I’d had non-stop sex with Robbie, so I shouldn’t be horny, but blowing him had fired me up again. I fought the temptation for only a few seconds, and then yielded to it. I pushed the cockpit door open and Keith looked up at me and got a big grin on his face. “You want to show me why they call this the cockpit?” I asked, making it sound like a line from a cheap porno. He stood up and dropped his pants, pulling out a nice dick. It was probably a little less than six inches long, and on the thin side. I dropped to my knees and engulfed him, smiling to myself as I heard his moans.

I stopped and stood up, undoing my own pants. He made to return the favor, but I stopped him and handed him a condom and the lube. He really grinned now. It had to be fast, both because the co-pilot was coming back and because Will was on his way. That made having him fuck me dangerous and exciting. We both sensed that this wasn’t the time for a big, fabulous, sexcapade, it was the time for a quick fuck. Keith drove into me fast and furious, worrying about getting his own nut while I focused on jacking myself off. It was short but sweet. I got back to my seat and looked at my watch, noting that it had only taken ten minutes.

It was a good thing too, because no sooner had I sat back down than Will, Jordan, and Jason arrived. Will gave me a big hug and Jason fist-bumped me, then Will led him to the back of the plane where they could hang out and bullshit without parental supervision. Jordan fist-bumped me too, then sat in the seat next to mine. If only he knew where my fist had been, I thought playfully.

“I hope it’s cool I’m here,” Jordan said.

“It’s totally cool,” I said. “You can keep me company. Otherwise, those two would be off on their own and I’d be bored.”

“Sweet,” Jordan said, and flashed me his killer smile.

 

 

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Damn, I want Robbie and Brad's mid life crisis... Cancun, Palm Springs, Las Vegas, and now Hawaii; this is just so much fun.

 

Waiting for the next shoe to drop...

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I was thinking a couple of chapters back, when Brad had to be in his best suit, etc. It occurred to me that the Crampton and Schluter men couldn't shop for men's clothes in Claremont and Chicago would just be off the rack stuff, so I figured a couple of times a year or so they'd fly to London for bespoke suits from Gieves & Hawkes, bespoke shoes from John Lobb, bespoke shirts from Turnbull & Asser and stop at Purdy & Sons to order a new shotgun for duck season.

I bet Jordan is a bottom....

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