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©2012 EM Lynley. Please do not copy or post elsewhere without my permission. Thank you for respecting my work.
Burke Williams wasn’t planning on a vacation, but when his well-meaning sister lures him to the airport and hands him a plane ticket and a packed suitcase the day after he finishes a high-pressure programming project, he has little choice but to hop on the plane and go.
Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine a place like Cockatoo, a clothing-optional gay beach resort. For a guy more at home with a hard drive than happy hour, he feels like a fish out of water on the Caribbean island.
Only one other guy at the place seems to be enjoying it less than Burke: a handsome guy more interested in looking through his binoculars at the woods surrounding the resort than at the array of available Speedo-clad men laid out in rows of beach chairs, a veritable Smorgasbord of willing partners.
Stafford Nelson didn’t come to Cocaktoo to find a temporary bedmate, but he thinks geeky Burke sweet and charming, and they hit it off immediately. But when Burke discovers what Staff is really after, it might shipwreck their blossoming connection.
Burke Williams squinted in the bright sun as he walked out of his hotel room and toward the beach. He had a bottle of sunscreen, a fat potboiler mystery novel and a brand-new pair of bright green swim trunks on. So new they sort of chafed in all the wrong spots. He ducked back into his room and grabbed a wide-brimmed straw hat off the hook near the door, made sure his plastic key card was in his pocket, and shuffled in the direction of the waves.
He sniffed. Top notes of salt, with a sort of fishy second note, and a coconut-suntan-lotion finish. Smells that caused images of long-past family beach vacations to bubble toward the surface of his consciousness. Family vacations. Family.
At the moment, Burke could do without family. He inhaled and let out a long sigh as he approached a row of lounge chairs on the beach, about twenty feet from the highest point the waves kissed the beach. He wandered down the line glancing at each of the figures reclining. Rows of men. Rows of men in various shades from pale to overcooked. All lined up like a buffet.
What else did he expect at a gay beach resort?
He nodded as he made eye contact with one man after another. Not a glimmer of interest in any of them. Burke let his gaze roam up one body and down another, shocked and in some cases appalled by the array of swim wear (and lack thereof). Suddenly his bright green trunks seemed so… inadequate. He couldn’t help looking towards the crotches, assessing the size and shape of the various lumps and outlines. One guy looked like he had a whole trout stuffed in there.
Burke shuddered. He didn’t want to go near any part of Trout-crotch’s body, nor have any of it touch him. He asked himself for the zillionth time why on earth he’d come.
Family, that’s why. Burke’s well-meaning sister, Janalyn, had bought this trip for him and staged an intervention to get him to the airport. She’d lured him with an invitation to his favorite restaurant and driven him to the airport instead.
But she had his best interests at heart, even if she had a sucky way of showing it.
“Burke, you’ve been working too hard. You need to take a break, ” she said the day before when she picked him up, ostensibly for a dim sum at a popular place south of San Francisco. He had a week off between consulting projects and she wanted him to relax and enjoy himself.
“This last project was huge. I couldn’t take any time off. The client was on our asses the whole time.”
“I don’t just mean time off. I mean ‘time off.’” Janalyn made some gesture which was probably supposed to be sexual but she didn’t do it correctly and it just made Burke laugh. He didn’t even realize she’d missed the restaurant exit and had taken the one for San Francisco International Airport until it was too late.
“Oh, you’ll have to drive through the whole airport to turn around here.”
“Not turning around,” Janalyn said cryptically as she pulled through to the Departures lane at SFO, put the car in park in front of the United Airlines terminal and set the emergency blinkers before forcing him out of the car. “Time for a real vacation. You’ll thank me for this!” she shouted.
He did not want to go on a vacation. He wanted to eat dim sum and go home and watch some movies on Netflix. “Ha. I can’t go anywhere. I don’t even have a suitcase.” He thought he might have won on this account, even if he had to take BART home.
She popped the trunk, got out of the car and hefted out a pink-and-blue flower-print rolling suitcase. “Sure you do. Bon voyage, mon frere.” She flashed an “I already thought of everything” grin at him and folded her arms across her chest. “Go on.” She waved him away like she was shooing a pesky dog.
Burke glanced at the suitcase, then back at Janalyn. He shook his head.
“Oh yeah, the most important thing!” She thrust an envelope at him.
He noticed the stylized outline of a white bird and groaned before he even opened it up. A printed itinerary showed a flight to St Croix via Miami and courtesy van transfers to and from the resort.
“Cockatoo resort?” Burke didn’t even like the name of it. “Cockatoo?”
“It’s a gay beach resort. You’ll love it. Plenty of opportunities for ‘time off.’” She made the crude gesture again and Burke burst into laughter. It tapered off to a near whimper. He’d heard about the place. Nothing good. Him at a gay beach resort? He was a computer engineer, not a beach stud. Who was going to notice him there?
“No. No way. No fucking way.”
She stood in front of the car door as he lunged for it. Blue flashing lights crept up behind them and an airport security patrol shouted out the window “Move this car or I’ll ticket you.”
“Sorry, Officer!” Janalyn shouted.
She made a mock salute and zipped behind the wheel while Burke’s attention was focused on the security guy. He looked pretty handsome in his guard uniform, even in the dim artificial light of the airport driveway.
Maybe Burke really did need some “time off.” There would be plenty of guys to choose from at Cockatoo, all-male, clothing optional resort. He hoped like hell his sister hadn’t taken the “optional” too literally and sent him away with an empty suitcase.
He watched Janalyn speed away, shrugged and wheeled the pansy-covered suitcase inside.
The flight to Miami was uneventful. No one talked to him. He got the window seat and stared out as the ascended through fluffy white clouds until the sun blinded him and he had to shut his eyes, bright orange circles dancing painfully on his inner eyelids. He had been inside too much lately. Maybe this little vacation wasn’t such a bad idea.
Then he remembered the name of the resort: Cockatoo. Very bad idea.
When he got off the plane he considered just staying in Miami, though he had no clue where and he didn’t feel particularly adventurous. He pulled the now oft-folded itinerary and e-ticket out of his back pocket and figured out which flight would take him to the island. A glance at the Departures board said it was Gate E17, and he rolled the floral monstrosity of a suitcase behind him as he made his way to the next terminal.
When he got to the gate a “CHARTERED” sign was posted next to the destination. Everyone on the flight must be heading to Cockatoo, he figured. He’d expected the passengers waiting at Gate E17 would be all men but he discovered it was a mix of men and women. The brochure said “Men Only,” so this confused Burke. He hoped they weren’t resort staff. He didn’t have anything against women, but he was going to feel self-conscious enough without the potential embarrassment of female staff at the clothing-optional resort.
He realized the women were part of a group wearing T-shirts that said “Cook This!” Some guys wore the same shirt, so they couldn’t be heading for Cockatoo.
He dragged the suitcase to a seat and settled in to wait for the call to board. Some of the men gave him the once over and then turned their gazes to others waiting for the same flight.
Not an auspicious start to the trip, he thought, glancing down at his attire: baggy jeans and a blue-and-white striped button-down shirt. Untucked. Nothing wrong with his clothes. That’s what he wore to work and sometimes he was the best-dressed guy there. He was a software engineer, one of the few who didn’t wear t-shirts almost exclusively. But he realized the other men were wearing what was probably called “resort wear.” Matching shirts and pants or light suits. Their clothes looked expensive. The resort was expensive, he knew that much, and he could afford it. He just didn’t judge people on the clothes or looks very much.
* * * *
On the beach at Cockatoo, Burke sat blinking in the sun’s overpowering brightness for a moment until movement to his far left caught his attention. A flash, the sun reflecting off metal. He turned his head and saw another row of lounge chairs, all full.
Another flash from much farther up the beach.
This time Burke’s gaze zeroed in on the source. The guy in the very last lounger wore Hawaiian print board shorts and a blue baseball cap had a pair of binoculars to his face. He peered through them, his entire body tense as he sat on the edge of his lounger. He was wearing a short-sleeved pale blue cotton shirt, unbuttoned. He was close enough for Burke to see his chest was covered with a pale blonde fuzz, just like his legs. While the arms and legs were toasty tan, Binoc-guy’s chest was pale. Burke couldn’t get a good look at his face, given the cap and the binoculars. Too bad. At least the chest looked in good shape, the legs looked toned and the guy wasn’t wearing one of those ridiculous tiny Speedos that left too little to the imagination and too much revealed.
Burke watched as the guy put the binocs down and picked up a notepad from his lap and scribbled something then grabbed the glasses again. He repeated the sequence several times to himself, nodding and grinning.
What was he watching? Ever more intriguing, Burke wanted to know what he’d been writing down. He glanced in the direction the guy was watching but he could see anything in particular. It was in the direction of the edge of this resort. Another private beach was located on the other side of a high wooden fence. Probably the destination for the women passengers. Something co-ed, or whatever the word was.
Why would Binoc-guy be watching someone over at the girls’ camp? This started to feel like one of those lose-your-virginity films aimed at high-school aged guys. Burke glanced back at Binoc-guy but the lounger was empty. He wasn’t anywhere in sight.
Burke shrugged and returned to putting sunscreen on his arms and legs.
“Need some help with that?”
The deep voice startled Burke and he looked to see who had spoken. Two sandaled feet stood next to his lounger and he followed them up, nearly blinded by the sun as he peered at the face of an attractive man in his 40s. He was a bit older than the guys Burke usually spent time with, but he was in great shape and didn’t have a trout-dick, as far as Burke could tell. So far so good!
The guy sat next to Burke on the lounger and took the bottle of SPF 100 from him, letting his fingers brush provocatively against Burke’s in the process.
Rick squeezed a pool of sunscreen into one palm and rubbed them together vigorously like he was trying to light a fire. He started smoothing the lotion on Burke’s shoulders.
“Mmm.” Burke let out a tiny moan. It felt good. The guy’s hands were strong.
“First day here, huh, Burke?” Rick didn’t give Burke a chance to answer before he continued. “You know I bet you’d glow in the dark, you’re so pale.”
“Well, I just finished this big database project. We worked pretty long hours and …” Burke had to catch his breath as Rick’s hand slipped around to play with a nipple. It felt good. Then just as quickly, the hand returned to Burke’s back. “Well we had like a million lines of code to debug for the client and the guys who wrote it…” The hand tweaked the nipple again. “…were terrible. No comments. It took ages…”
The hand removed itself from the nipple and Rick stood up and left without saying a word.
“Uh, Rick?” Burke said toward the receding back, but Rick didn’t even turn around.
“That’s gotta be a record.” The voice came from the next lounger. The guy sprawled there had a dark handle bar mustache and looked like the “Before” picture for a hair-removal product. Not Burke’s type.
“It took you about twenty seconds to scare off a guy. You might want to come up with another topic of conversation than databases…. Just sayin.’” He got up and walked away in the direction Rick had gone.
“I’m gonna kill Janalyn!” Burke said to no one in particular. He finished applying sunscreen himself, picked up his trashy novel and concentrated on relaxing.
The wind had died down for the moment and it was hot. He felt the sun’s heat and sting seeping into his body as he lay on his back, eyes closed and tried to relax. He could hear the waves crashing softly against the sand and the murmurs of men walking past or sitting nearby and chatting. No one came by to talk to him or ask for help in applying sunscreen. He tried not to feel a little insulted and concentrated on the way the sun felt on his skin.
When he sensed tiny trickles of sweat rolling down his back and along his shoulders he opened his eyes. He gave himself a once-over to see if he’d started burning, but Janalyn’s choice in sunscreen certainly held up well to the tropical sun. A loud wave crashed against the beach and a chorus of surprised, excited shouts echoed.
Time for a swim.
Burke lived near San Francisco, but he’d only gone into the water there a couple of times. It was usually freezing, even at the height of summer. No one swam in Northern California unless they were wearing a wetsuit. Plenty of triathletes braved the Bay’s chill each year in a famous swim to Alcatraz Island. Burke was not one of them. But he enjoyed the water, so he nestled his room key into a sandal and strode toward the ocean.
He felt dozens of eyes watch his progress and he ignored them. He’d worry about that later, near dinner time. He didn’t want to eat alone, so he’d find someone to pair up with, but for now, he’d enjoy the surf and sand without thought to whether he met someone’s expectations, or someone met his.
After splashing about for a good twenty or thirty minutes, Burke had worked up a thirst, if not a sweat. He grew accustomed to the temperature of the water, at first shockingly cool to his overheated skin, and the exercise refreshed and invigorated him. He headed for his lounge, intending to flag one of the cute waiters once he got there and order a frosty cocktail, maybe even something with an umbrella. He was in a carefree mood. If he had enough umbrella drinks, he might even get clothing-optional.
To his shock he discovered Binoc-guy had settled into the lounge right next to his, binoculars dangling from his neck as he reclined, legs splayed and showing off even nicer muscle tone than Burke had noted from a distance.
“Hi,” Binoc-guy said, his voice friendly and warm.
Burke realized he was staring at Binoc-guy’s legs. Well, he’d started there and inevitably, his gaze worked its way upward to his crotch and now Burke couldn’t quite figure out how to respond.
“Uh. Hi.” Burke shrugged, trying to act casual.
“This lounger was empty, so I hope you don’t mind that I sat down here.”
“Uh. No.” Uh, fuck. Burke must sound like an idiot right now. A horny idiot.
“I saw you were reading a Michael Connelly book…”
At least the guy would know he was an idiot who could read. Burke’s mood lifted.
He stopped himself before another “uh” tumbled from his lips. “Y-yes. I’m a big fan.”
“Me, too.” Binoc-guy smiled again, showing a nice set of nearly perfect teeth. “At least the Harry Bosch novels. I haven’t read the Lincoln Lawyer ones. I am kinda tempted to see the film with Matthew McConaughey, but not really ’cause of the book, ya know?” He gave a charming little wink.
Burke’s heart fluttered and his cock might have followed suit. Thank God his sister had packed these baggy swim trunks!
“They’re okay. Well, pretty good, but I like Harry better, to be honest.”
“Good to know.” Binoc-guy paused for a moment to check his watch, then turned his gaze back to Burke. “Would you– I’m so rude. I’m Staff. Staff Nelson.”
Staff? What the hell kind of name was that? Burke couldn’t help looking at Staff’s stuff. His thoughts wandered to London: Nelson’s column, a huge phallic monument to the nation’s most famous naval hero. He couldn’t tell how much column there was with the board shorts. Burke gulped a little and forced himself to look at Staff’s eyes. They were warm brown, with little flecks of green and gold, and the corners crinkled a lot when Staff smiled. Staff smiled a lot. He was smiling right now.
“What’s your name?”
“Is that Scandinavian?” Staff chuckled.
“Wha? No. It’s Burke. I mean, my name is Burke. Burke Williams.”
“Burke,” Staff paused to smile, his teeth bright in the sunlight. He licked his bottom lip and Burke felt his cock stirring again at the sight of the pink tip. “Burke?”
“Would you want to meet me for dinner later, around seven?”
“Yeah, it’s the meal people eat in the evening. You do eat, right?”
“Sure, I eat. I chew. I swallow…” Awww, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Burke clamped his lips together and blinked a few times.
“Let’s start with dinner and see about the rest afterward, okay?”
Staff grinned and glanced down at his watch. “Excuse me, just a minute, okay?” Without waiting for Burke’s reply he raised the binoculars to his face and zeroed in on a clump of trees near the edge of the resort.
“So, watchya watchin’?” Burke kicked at his flip flop as he asked. He shocked himself by not only asking a straight-out question but by his own almost flirtatious tone. Crap. He hoped Staff hadn’t noticed it. Then again, what was the point of flirting if not to send a message. Burke was out of practice at all this social stuff. One more point to Janalyn.
Staff was still looking through the binocs. He probably hadn’t even heard Burke. Then Staff lowered the glasses and turned toward him. “Birds.”
“Really? I’m totally into birdwatching, too.” Damn, that sounded pathetic. It was pretty pathetic. As geeky as Burke admittedly was, birdwatching was one thing he’d never gotten into.
“Look, Burke, I gotta go. I’ll see you later, okay?” Staff slung his backpack over his shoulder and ran off through the woods.
He’d scared off another one. He watched Staff’s receding form, which slowed, turning to glance back at Burke with a little wave. “Seven o’clock, by the entrance to Pecker’s!” Staff shouted.
Burke waved weakly back. Maybe he hadn’t scared him off. Yet.
He ran back to his room to research birdwatching before dinner.
* * * *
Burke left his room two minutes before seven, wearing slightly crumpled Chinos and a long-sleeved button-down cotton shirt in teal. He’d showered, shaved, and taken care with his appearance and an extra-long shower, just in case Staff actually showed up and after dinner still wanted to hang out with him.
When Burke got to Pecker’s Bar and Restaurant, a five-minute stroll from his room, Staff Nelson was already waiting. His Chinos might have been slightly less crumpled and he wore a soft coral-colored cotton shirt with a few buttons undone in a sexy, casual way. Just enough for Burke to see the sharp outline of one very attractive collarbone when Staff turned to wave and put out a hand for a friendly handshake, his other hand cupping Burke’s elbow in a warm, almost tingly manner that boded well for the rest of the evening.
“You smell good.” Staff smiled and his eyes crinkled in agreement.
“Thanks.” Burke didn’t know what else to say, that his sister packed the body wash? No fucking way!
“The food here doesn’t look that great. Do you mind walking to the other side of the resort, to the Asian fusion place?”
“You mean you don’t want to eat a ….” Burke leaned toward the menu in the window. “A Cock-a-dog? Goddamn, they can’t be serious!”
Staff laughed out loud. “I’d rather starve.”
“Me, too. Asian fusion it is.”
They strolled through the main bar area, past two swimming pools where a raucous party was in progress. This was clearly the most clothing-optional area of the resort and men in various states of undress were lounging around, in and around the water, some dancing to a local band, some making out, some really needing to get to their own rooms. A waiter rushed past them with a tray full of drinks, deftly avoiding several attempted bottom pinchers. A more formally dressed man, probably a manager tried unsuccessfully to disentangle two men who had violated the no-sex-at-the-pool rule as well as at least one law of physics.
Burke couldn’t help staring at the Bacchanalian sights. Naked men and reggae definitely did not mix. He shuddered.
“First time here?” Staff asked and quickened his pace.
“Definitely. Probably last. I didn’t really come here for the… activities.”
They arrived at the other side of the resort, slightly out of breath. The restaurant had a seafood and nautical theme and the unfortunate name of Strokes, with canoe paddles and oars placed in prominence in the lobby, in case anyone didn’t get the clever origin of the name. Burke held back a groan, but Staff chuckled and rolled his eyes at the name and décor.
They were quickly seated at a table in the bar while they waited for an empty table in the restaurant. It was decorated in calm blues and pale greens, with a surprisingly tasteful if predictable underwater theme, despite the tired double entendre name. A projector shone a video of a variety of swimming fish across one wall, and the background music was a slightly more upbeat version of yoga music. Tinkling fountains and splashing water added to the nautical ambiance.
They ordered drinks with ridiculous maritime punny names and chitchatted until their table was ready. Once seated, Staff picked up the wine list and flipped through the pages while Burke glanced at the menu. To his surprise, nearly every dish sounded delicious. The food couldn’t be particularly high quality, considering the overall focus of the resort seemed to be to get guys paired up, but whoever had written the menu at least knew something about food.
“Dinner’s on me.” Staff slid closer to Burke in the booth so he could read off the same menu.
“It’s an all-inclusive resort. Meals are included…” Burke wished he hadn’t said that, because he liked the way Staff’s leg felt pressed up against his under the table, and the way his fingers brushed Burke’s as he pulled the menu closer.
“Oh, right. Then I’ll cover the wine.” He waved the waiter over and ordered a bottle of some kind of Champagne and a bottle of French wine. “We’ll order in a few minutes, unless you’re ready now, Burke?”
“Yeah… yes.” Burke gave the waiter his order and Staff listed several additional dishes. Burke felt a little rude now that he’d made Staff look cheap and maybe forced him to order expensive wine. “You know a lot about wine?”
“It’s a passion of mine. One of them. What about you, do you like wine?”
Burke got caught up on the word “passion” and didn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t know much about wine, but I like it. With food. Just wine tasting on its own doesn’t really do much for me. I never know what I’m supposed to be tasting. You know, cassis or tree bark or worn saddle leather…”
Staff let out a laugh loud enough to turn heads. “Worn saddle leather? Did you enjoy that one?”
“I like how honest you are, Burke.”
“You didn’t pretend to know a lot about wine, and you weren’t afraid to say you’re not really into it, even though I said I was.”
“I can be very honest, then.”
Staff smiled and Burke got a very warm feeling all the way down to his brand new underwear.
The waiter returned with the Champagne and appetizers.
They had a leisurely dinner, punctuated by discussions of books, films, and food, but nothing about work or where either of them was from. Burke felt an unusual freedom. He could make up anything about himself here. He wasn’t going to spend more than a few days—maybe only a few hours—with Staff, so he could say anything. So could Staff. Maybe that was why he seemed to steer the conversation toward what Burke liked to do, rather than what he did for a living.
“Are you going to tell me anything else about yourself?” Burke asked as they finished dessert and Staff waited for the waiter to bring his receipt and credit card. “Where you’re from?”
“Why? Do you define yourself by where you’re from or what you do for a living?”
Burke blinked. Usually he did. Staff’s de-emphasis on those things was refreshing and sexy. “Not here.”
“I’ll tell you something else about me later on, okay?”
“Would you like to come to my room?”
Staff laced his fingers through Burke’s, starting a lighting chain reaction that zapped its way up one side of his body and down the other. Staff tugged and Burke rose from the booth and they left the restaurant.
Staff’s room looked exactly like Burke’s down to the exact same painting of a fat pelican over the television.
“Don’t you like pelicans?” Staff asked and offered Burke a bottle of Mexican beer from his fridge.
“I don’t have an opinion one way or the other, but I think that artist should look for a new career.”
Staff nodded. “Oh yeah.”
Burke sipped on his beer. “Can I ask just one personal question?”
Staff settled next to Burke on the couch and put his beer down on the coffee table. He licked his bottom lip again and Burke was ready to take back his request.
“What kind of name is ‘Staff’?”
Staff nodded. “Fair enough. It’s not. I mean it’s really ‘Stafford’ but that sounded too stuffy, and maybe like an English dog, so people just started calling me ‘Staff.’”
“Okay.” Crisis averted. But Burke still wanted to know what was in Staff’s shorts, and he wanted to know pretty soon.
The sexual energy between them had increased throughout dinner and whenever their fingers or arms touched, Burke found himself increasingly attracted to Staff. Better, Staff was easy to talk to, liked a lot of the same things, disliked a lot of the same things, and didn’t sound pedantic when he explained why the wine he’d chosen was so interesting. Burke liked the sound of Staff’s voice, kind of low and rumbly in the back of his throat, like he’d just woken up from a fantastic dream.
Staff took the beer bottle out of Burke’s hand and set it down on the table. He looked into Burke’s eyes and the next thing Burke knew, Staff’s lips were pressed against his, warm and tasting slightly of beer, the pressure just enough to send shivers down through his toes into the floor and maybe a mile or two toward the center of the earth.
Burke let out a little moan and kissed back, his hands going up toward Staff’s shoulders, one hand sliding between his shirt and that collarbone he’d been thinking about kissing all evening. Their lips parted and their tongues met and made acquaintance. Burke pulled away and kissed his way down Staff’s smooth neck, gliding his lips down to the collarbone and licking along it.
It was Staff’s turn to moan and pull Burke close. Hands reached for buttons, then skin, then fingertips sought nipples while they kissed and their breathing became shallow and insistent. Blood pounded in Burke’s ears, through his veins, and warmth and pressure pooled between his legs. He slipped a hand down into Staff’s pants and felt the silky touch of the head of his cock.
Staff let go of Burke and fumbled with his own belt and zipper, giving Burke easy access to him. He leaned back on the couch and Burke slid between his legs and down to the floor, bending his head toward Staff’s…. staff.
“Not yet. Come here.” Staff pulled Burke back to the couch and went for his mouth again. He slid a hand toward Burke’s belt and unbuckled it while the other hand did amazing things to Burke’s right nipple.
When Staff’s hand closed around Burke’s cock he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. The warm pressure, the perfect grip, the smooth strokes alternating with some thumb work around the slit and then Staff leaned down and teased the tip of his tongue around. Burke shuddered. It took every ounce of willpower not to shoot his load right then and there. He couldn’t help spreading his legs wider and leaning back, giving Staff access to his balls and ass.
“What do you like, Burke?”
“Whatever. What do you like? I’m usually a bottom, but I’ll–”
Staff cut him off with a kiss. “What do you like, Burke?”
“Do you have condoms?”
“No.” Staff sounded disappointed.
Burke was shocked. And mad as fuck at himself for not bringing any of the three dozen Janalyn had packed for him. But he didn’t want to look like he was expecting anything….
“I don’t either,” Burke admitted
“We can still…” Staff began, “finish what we’re doing here… No need to rush into that.”
Burke couldn’t tell if Staff was angry. As much as Burke wanted him, he wouldn’t let anyone fuck him without protection.
Staff leaned back down and continued where he left off, slicking a finger with his own spit and gently slipping it inside Burke while he used his other hand and his mouth on Burke’s cock. One hand fondled his balls and Staff’s mouth and tongue alternately licked and sucked and probed and it felt like Staff had six hands and all of them were on Burke’s body until it could take no more and gladly gave itself up in a shudder, grunt and groan and Burke let months of loneliness and frustration out in a series of hot white spurts against the back of Staff Nelson’s tight warm throat.
Turns out Staff swallowed, too, and with a smile on his face.
Burke pulled him up and kissed him, Staff grinning against his lips as Burke tasted his own release on Staff’s lips and tongue. He kissed his way down Staff’s chest but was tugged up gently by his hair.
“Let’s get more comfortable, on the bed.”
Staff stood up, pants slipping down his hips just a little and his cock jutting out at the most delicious angle. Pre-come dripped from the slit, leaving dark marks on Staff’s boxers and Chinos
Burke nodded. Staff helped him up from the couch and they moved toward the queen-sized bed. A framed picture of the resorts namesake ubiquitous white Cockatoo hung over the headboard.
He lay on the bed, after pulling the ugly blue and green bedspread off and tossing it onto the floor. Burke lay next to him and let Staff pull him close for a deep kiss. Staff’s slight blond stubble tickled his lips and chin. Burke broke from the kiss and rolled Staff onto his back and slid his pants and boxers down his body, raining soft kisses along the way. Staff’s cock was about average girth but long. Not porn-star long, just right, Burke thought.
Staff stopped him as his mouth hovered inches above it.
“Use your hand, at least to start. I want to see your face. I want you to look at me.”
Burke couldn’t wait to taste it now, especially after Staff asked him not to just yet. It would feel good in his mouth, and probably up his ass at some point in the future. Staff trimmed his curls so his balls were visible, the sac tight and heavy, swaying as he moved.
Burke took hold and slid his hand up and down Staff’s cock a few times.
“That’s good. Look at me?” Staff asked, his voice soft, husky, smoldering. Burke never knew what a smoldering voice sounded like until now. His own cock stiffened again just at the pure sexual sound of it.
He turned his gaze toward Staff’s but it was too difficult to keep it there. Staff’s eyes were dark with need and something else. Not pleasure. Kindness? Burke looked down again at what he was doing. He used both hands, one stroking while the other twisted along the head of Staff’s cock.
Staff made a little choking sound in the back of his throat and his hips kicked up against Burke’s hands. He was pretty close and Burke had barely started. He slowed his movements and felt Staff relax a little. He kept up the same motions, but lessened the intensity.
“Yeah, yeah, nnggghhh.” Staff still stared at Burke.
“Let me suck you, Staff?” Burke’s mouth watered as Staff’s grunts increased.
“Not… yet… at the end….”
Burke nodded and slowed his hand movements. He drew the pleasure out for Staff, sensing just when he was getting too close and backing off. Staff let out little whimpers each time. His nipples were hard, dark nubs pointing toward the ceiling as Staff’s chest heaved and his hips bucked.
As soon as Staff’s eyes fluttered closed Burke leaned down and took his cock into his mouth, with a little swirl of the tongue up and down, tasting the man who’d given him so much enjoyment today before they’d even shared their first kiss.
Fingers tightened in Burke’s hair and Staff let out a sound of pure pleasure and came hot and hard into Burke’s welcoming mouth.
* * * *
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