Keep Swimming (4 page)

             
Heath shoves his foot into his steel toed Baffins. One more hour of sleep wouldn’t have killed him. The previous twelve hour shift had been the kind of hell that left you too tired to actually fall asleep. He’d tossed and turned for hours before deciding to beat off to soothe his nerves. Usually that was the magic that sent him right into La-La Land.

             
Not this time, though. Nooooo. He’d been so annoyed with himself when the image of Cary riding his cock had popped into his head, the feel of Cary’s heat enveloping his cock and their skin touching, that he’d ended up over thinking—something no one would ever have accused him of before. Not until fucking Cary Whitmore. And he couldn’t figure out why.

             
Maybe that’s the problem?
He couldn’t help wondering if he’d just turned that fucking awesome sex into something different in his mind because it
had
been so awesome. He’d been running into Cary for so long, assuming the man would be shy and easily tamed in the sack, only to find out instead that he wasn’t afraid to give in and ride Heath on an office chair. It almost felt like the sex gods had answered some prayer he hadn’t even realized he’d sent up. He had had good sex with a guy he actually didn’t mind speaking to outside the closed doors of the … Office.

             
“Cummings, get a move on.” The engineer, Chester, banged on the door to Heath’s bunk room. His Alabama drawl grating this early in the morning. “A gully warsher’s comin’ down this mornin’. New guys are fuckin’ things up left and right.” His voice took on a mocking tone, which wasn’t surprising since even with ten years experience, Heath wasn’t up to snuff in Chester's book. “They need your expertise.” Heath didn’t even need to see the air quotes to know the old bastard had used them.

             
“Give me five!” he snapped. He wasn’t any more excited about going out in a fucking sea storm than anyone else. In fact, it sounded like hell.

             
He only had to make it one more twelve then he’d be heading home in the morning. Maybe he’d take one more go at the offering the sex gods had sent his way. Who looked a gift horse in the mouth? And it’d been a while since he’d gone back for seconds. He couldn’t resist that ass much longer, with its shapely mounds, and who could forget the trim line of the man’s body, and those hauntingly muted hazel eyes?

             
Really? Waxing poetic about his eyes?
It was official, Heath was losing it.

*****

Heath was always happiest when he had just finally made it home. No more bunks, no more cheap ass motel rooms, just the comfort of his own space. He fell back onto his bed. The sheets on his bed were unmade and smelled of his own fabric softener, the air smelled of sand and sea rather than grease and sun-baked, unwashed flesh.

First order of business was a shower, maybe a beer and some serious sleep time, in no certain order. He feared sleep may take over sooner rather than later if he didn’t force himself up from his bed. He grunted as he shifted around to dig a change of clothes out of the duffel he’d thrown on the floor.

When his phone vibrated he took a peek at the screen.
Cary.
Heath still wasn’t sure why he’d sent the first text. People usually came to him. And he was particularly annoyed at the smile he couldn’t seem to stop from forming—not wanting to study that reaction very closely.

Yeah, I think I can get away.

Heath shot off a quick response—
Don’t sound so excited, man—
before heading for that shower. His cock was hard just thinking about what he and Cary would get up to. The urge to jack off was strong, the lust overpowering. He was practically ready to burst like an untouched virgin. He couldn’t shake the strong reaction his body had to the man, though.

It’s not like Heath hadn’t been with other men before. Quite the contrary. He’d been with guys in high school. Then after his divorce his twenty-three year old hormones had been set free and he’d sowed many a wild oat since then, though no more than many of his friends. He just had a bigger “dating pool”. He’d had fantastic sex with a couple of people at this point, one or two even had him coming back for months on end—a major rarity when he’d been younger. But Cary.

Cary seemed to possess every physical trait Heath could think of to push his buttons. The man had the roundest ass Heath had ever laid hands on, a face that was the perfect mix of pretty and handsome, and long lean lines made up his gracefully toned physique. Then there was the man himself. He was a little shy but in a way that seemed he was more humble than actually timid. He was funny as hell, and get the man in bed with a hand around his cock and he was a wild cat.

“
Fuck,” Heath groaned, banging his forehead against the shower wall. He couldn’t stop his runaway thoughts. He kept trying to remind himself
he has a kid, you hate kids,
and
you’ve been married once and almost fucked up one of the best friendships you ever had.
He couldn’t even necessarily say Cary was a friend, but Heath didn’t balk at the idea of being friends with Cary. But what about Cary? Could he handle that Heath was never going to want to get married, probably wouldn’t ever want to be in something that resembled much of a relationship? He could be faithful to one fuck buddy, he didn’t require either multiple partners or sex five days a week. He wasn't twenty-five any more. And he wasn’t a man whore, but he didn’t do
relationships
per se. He was more of a fling kinda guy.
Especially
with men. He couldn’t exactly have an open relationship with one, at least not until he was able to quit working on the rigs.
Of course he wouldn’t complain about coming home to that tight ass.

“
You’re fucking losing it,” he said to himself, gripping his cock and giving it a few strokes. He needed to get out of the shower or he’d give in and get off before even seeing Cary.

After drying himself and pulling on a pair of sweat shorts, he checked his phone again. He would be a dog today, though. He was almost uncomfortably horny and had been for weeks. He’d turned down a couple of roughneck groupies when they’d tried to pick up him and some of the guys when they’d gotten back ashore and hit a bar in Texas the night before. He’d had Cary on the brain but he wouldn’t be offended if the guy’d intended it to just be a one-off. He could always hit up someone else. It was a Saturday night after all.

Sorry. Had to check with sitter.

Um. That was a bit of a mood killer.
Not a problem.

I can come for a bit. If that’s still cool.

Bingo. He shot off his address and got a response that Cary’d be around in an hour. That’d do. He went for a beer from the fridge and was glad to see either Kyle or Becca had obviously been by and restocked—they helped drink more of it than he did after all. He putzed around checking little things on the yacht, had another beer or two and set out condoms and lube.

Almost an hour to the minute, he heard the distinct thump of feet on the dock and opened the door to the deck. There, looking good enough to eat in jeans and a t-shirt, stood Cary, seeming slightly unsure of himself. When their eyes met, Cary flushed but Heath knew that flush, one of arousal.

“Come aboard, sexy,” said Heath. Cary gave him a sinfully adorable look from under his lashes before making his way onto the deck of the yacht.

“
You live in a boat?”

Heath scoffed playfully. “A boat, he says. This, my good man, is a yacht. Say that shit to Thurston Howell the third.”

Cary raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“
Oh, come on. Gilligan’s Island? I’m not that much older than you, man.”

“
How old
are
you?” Cary asked, eyeing Heath’s shirtless torso with undeniable hunger, making Heath’s cock start its rise to say hello. Damn, he was so turned on that just staring at the guy’s sweet lips made him ready to fuck the aluminum railing.

“
Thirty-two.”

“
Oh, no. I’m twenty-eight.” Cary’s gawping at Heath’s tented shorts made Heath smirk, trying to put on his most rakish expression as he dragged his eyes up and down Cary. A significant bulge had grown in the crotch of his jeans as well.

“
Are we gonna keep talking out here and keep the sitter waiting or do I get to ask you inside now?”

Cary looked startled for a moment, realizing Heath’d noticed his staring. Heath moved into Cary’s space, going for the same move he’d used to get the man to loosen up as last time. He grabbed a handful of thick cock through the cotton of the man’s pants.

Cary let out a shuddering breath. “Sitter’s my neighbor. She’ll be there four more hours.”

Heath stroked Cary’s cock and the man shuddered again, breath hitching. Good to see Heath could lead Cary around by his dick as Cary seemed able to do to him.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, breathing in Cary’s ear.

“
Me too,” Cary said, though the admission seemed to embarrass him. Heath wondered why, but he was officially over the introductory part of this evening. He pulled Cary into the cabin’s open door and shut it behind them. Cary let out an oomph as Heath shoved him against the closed door.

“
We seem to be in this position a lot lately.”

“
Yeah,” Cary said on a breath. Heath did something that was equally as rare for him as obsessing over someone, he kissed Cary. He wasn’t sure why this activity was one that he’d had in mind almost as much as the fucking, but damn those lips.

When their lips touched, both of them grunted. The kiss was fervent, fast and passionate. Fuck he’d never been kissed like that. Wet and hard and sweet all at the same time. He was loathe to admit, but it made him a little weak in the knees.

Fuck that.
He pulled out of the kiss as gave a small growl, noticing Cary’s lips seemed to be chasing his as they parted. He went for the fly of Cary’s jeans and was pleased to find they were button-fly. With one deft motion, the fly was open and Cary’s cock sprung up and out of its cotton prison, arching upward from the trimmed thatch of hair at the base.

“
Oh, commando?” He asked, reaching a hand into the jeans to help Cary’s balls come into view, rolling them in his hands, loving the sounds Cary made as Heath fondled and stroked. Cary’s head leaned back against the door behind him, and again this all looked so familiar. He’d always remember the image of Cary exactly like this, and he didn’t think he would ever mind that. He leaned in and licked up Cary’s throat before lightly sinking his teeth in the soft skin behind his ear.

“
Oh, wow,” Cary breathed, hips thrusting forward. Heath dropped to his knees then, taking Cary’s cock into his mouth. Damn, but he’d never wanted to taste someone so badly in his life. The urge was overwhelming. As he took the tasty treat all the way to the base, working it with his throat, he pulled his own cock out and started stroking.

“
Heath, so…” Then Cary groaned and thrust into Heath’s mouth. Heath moaned at the sound of his name on Cary’s lips. He started sucking in earnest while Cary pummeled his face, balls swinging with every thrust. The feel of the heavy cock on his tongue, the salty taste of it, the way the balls occasionally hit his chin were working together to bring Heath so close. He was afraid he wasn’t going to last if he kept stroking himself.

But did he care? He’d wanted a taste.

“Oh, Heath… I’m gonna…” And that made up Heath’s mind. He stroked himself faster with one hand, cupping Cary’s sac with the other, rolling the balls quickly the way he liked done to his. Cary let out a gasp and shortly after started spurting down Heath’s throat. Heath took it as it came, sucking steadily until he had to pull off and place his head against Cary’s stomach for support. His cock erupted in spurt after spurt, dribbling over his hands and onto Cary’s jeans.

When the fuzz cleared from his mind, he felt Cary stroking his hair softly. He looked up to see Cary’s expression. They stared at each other for a moment, a moment where Heath got lost in those hazel eyes. Those sincere and reverent eyes.

What are you doing?

He leaned back and looked down, grimacing. “Sorry. Got that all over your jeans.”

“You came?”

Heath looked up, smirking. “What can I say?” He rose to standing, tucking himself away. “You just tasted that good.”

Cary’s face went flat. “Are these lines you use on everyone?”

Cary must’ve been able to see the
yes
written all over Heath’s face because he seemed suddenly annoyed and tucked himself away, stepping around Heath. “I need the bathroom.”

Heath was confused. Because while yes he did use those lines on other people, he’d really meant it with Cary. He also didn’t know why it bothered him so much that he’d seemed to have hurt Cary.

“Sorry,” Cary said behind him, making him turn. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I guess… It’s just been a long time since I’ve done… this…”

“
This?”

“
Messed around with somebody. I forgot it’s about using lines and just getting off.”