by Tim Mead
Being a college student, Brody discovered, was very different from being a high school student. And having a part-time job, though common among college students, didn't make things any easier. When he wasn't in class, he was either at one of the family shops or in his apartment studying. He was getting good grades on his English essays, and the first round of quizzes in psych and botany had produced equally satisfactory results, but he was surprised at how little time was left over.
He looked forward to weekends. The upcoming weekend, moreover, was going to be special, for Brody was having dinner with Adrian Lynch. Sunday dinner with Justin's family was also on the books, but he didn't think much about that. His spare moments were occupied with thoughts of the evening with Lynch. Brody couldn't remember ever being so taken with the looks and charm of -- well, of anyone.
Saturday morning he got up at 6:00 as usual, ate and dressed hurriedly, and drove to Colby where he worked out at the gym the university provided for students. The place wasn't as crowded as he'd expected on a Saturday. Obviously others didn't want to get up that early on a weekend. Many had left town to go home. Others were no doubt sleeping off the after-effects of an evening of drinking, since Friday night was party night.
He finished his workout just in time to shower, dress and get back to open the shop in Higgins at 9:00.
He was alone until Justin showed up about 10:00.
There was a steady but not heavy stream of customers that morning. Fortunately none of them needed deliveries that afternoon, or Brody would have had to make them himself or else call in the retiree who did their delivering now that Justin was back in school.
In a lull, Justin said, "So, Sarge, got a hot date tonight?"
Brody grinned and said, "Yeah."
Justin looked surprised. "No kidding?"
"Who's the lucky guy?"
"You probably wouldn't know him. He runs a restaurant in Colby."
"You mean like a Burger King?"
"No, twerp, like Adrian's."
"He runs Adrian's?"
"What's his name?"
"Like he owns the place? He must be ancient."
"No, he runs the place. He's the GM. His dad owns it."
"So he's Adrian. And the restaurant is Adrian's. But his dad owns it?"
"Yup. He's Adrian Jr."
Justin had lost his usual cocky attitude.
"How old is he?"
"Oh, I'd say late twenties."
"And I suppose you're gonna tell me he's a hunk."
Brody was beginning to feel guilty.
"Well, yeah, Jus, he is a great looking guy."
"He sure as fuck better be. Otherwise, he isn't good enough for you." He brightened. "So, come on, details, man!"
Brody told Justin everything he could remember about Lynch's appearance.
"Holy shit! And what are you two hotties gonna do?"
"He's going to fix dinner for me at his place."
"Oh, jeez. You'll spend the night fuckin' like bunnies, I suppose."
Brody felt himself blushing because that was exactly what he'd been hoping for.
"Well, Jus, it's only a dinner invite. Who knows what'll happen after that."
"Sarge, from what you've told me Lynch is a real stud. And you're the hottest stud in Colby County. You were turned on the moment you saw him, right?"
"He invited you to his place, right?"
"Okay then. You're gonna fuck up a storm. I hope you'll be recovered in time to come to our house like we planned."
"Oh, yeah, lil bro, I wouldn't miss that."
Justin gave Brody one of his mischievous grins. "You may be walkin' funny. I hope the `rents don't notice. And you'll have to give me all the juicy details."
"Sure I will. At the table in front of your folks."
"Well, maybe we can sit out back or something after dinner."
"Oh, man, that's what my dad always says when he really means no."
Brody chuckled. "We'll see."
After lunch Brody went to Dillard's to pick up the two pairs of slacks that had been hemmed.
He'd thought about taking a bottle of wine to Adrian that evening, but he knew little about wine and Lynch was no doubt an expert. So he stopped by the Higgins shop on his way home and selected the most spectacular potted chrysanthemum they had, large blossoms of a pinkish bronze color. `Go with your strength,' he thought.
The question when he got back to the apartment was what to do until time to get ready for his date. Except for the essay due Monday morning he was caught up with his school work. He thought he might get a head start on the essay instead of waiting until Sunday night, but his head was so full of thoughts of Adrian Lynch he couldn't concentrate. He wound up watching a football game on television.
At 5:45 he shaved, showered, and dressed. He looked at his two new shirts. One was a solid royal blue. The other was a muted plaid of white, dark blue and dark green. He thought the solid color one looked dressier, so he chose it. He found he had to cut the tags off his new khakis. When he pulled them on, there was a bulge in one of the pockets. The tailor had put the material he'd cut off the bottoms of the pant legs there. The pants fit a great deal better after he removed the fabric scraps and threw them in the waste basket. He stood in profile to his mirror and liked what he saw fore and aft. He turned away from the mirror and looked back over his shoulder. The clerk at Dillard's had been right, these khakis did make his butt look great. He ran a brush quickly over his cordovan loafers and slipped into them. Hoping Adrian would like the total look, he put on a windbreaker, grabbed his keys and the potted mum, and went to his car.
Thirty minutes later a nervous Brody pulled into the parking lot beside the building where Adrian Lynch lived. When he looked at the list of condos, he found that Lynch lived in the penthouse. That may have been a misleading term, for the building was only six stories tall. But Lynch had one of the two top-floor condos.
His host, wearing a black silk shirt and black khakis, was waiting for him with the door open when Brody got up there. With his black hair and intense blue eyes, he took Brody's breath away.
"Brody, come in, and welcome!"
"Hi, Adrian. Thanks for inviting me." He handed his host the flowers.
Lynch stuck his nose down into the coppery blossoms. "I love the smell of chrysanthemums. Not sweet. Very earthy and, I think, masculine, don't you?"
He'd never thought of the scent of mums as masculine, but he'd always rather liked it, so he simply smiled and nodded. He was beginning to feel like a tongue-tied fool.
"Would you put your jacket in the closet while I see to these?" Lynch asked.
"Sure, go ahead."
Brody did as asked while his host set the mums on the hearth of a stone fireplace. It wasn't cold enough for a fire, so he put the plant directly in front of the opening.
"Voila! Those are more beautiful than any fire I'll ever have there. Thank you!" He walked over to Brody, put his arms around him, and gave him a tight hug. Brody noticed that subtle, expensive scent he'd smelled the only other time he'd ever been that close to his host.
"Now, come, sit down." He took Brody by the hand and led him to a large leather sofa, one of two in the room. There was one seating arrangement facing the fireplace, another facing a wall of glass that ran along one end of the L-shaped room. In the el were a dining table set for two and an impressive antique sideboard. Brody had never seen anything quite like it before. The upholstered furniture was all in rust leather, very modern and inviting. But the occasional pieces appeared to be of different periods and styles, as if Lynch had picked them up individually. And that, as Brody learned later, was exactly what he'd done.
"Wow! That's a fantastic view." From the window wall one could see a large part of the Colby State University campus, including a wide, grassy area crisscrossed by walkways and edged by buildings of differing architectural styles.
"In country as flat as northwest Ohio, there aren't many views except from the tops of buildings. I'm lucky to have found this place, I think. I'll give you the nickel tour later. Now, I've got some lovely pinot grigio chilled for dinner. I think beforehand, though, I'll have some dry sherry, but I'll bet you'd rather have beer. There's German, Canadian, Australian, Mexican, and domestic. What's your pleasure?"
Brody would have been happy with any of the beers, but Lynch had said something about educating his palate, so he decided to try the sherry.
"Adrian, I've never had sherry, so I'd like to try it."
That was the right thing to say, for Lynch beamed. "I'll be back in a moment. Or, better still, come along. You can help carry."
The kitchen was large, with restaurant-style appliances. Adrian poured a caramel-colored wine from a decanter into two short-stemmed glasses with tulip-shaped bowls.
He handed the glasses to Brody. "If you'll carry these back to the living room, I'll bring this bruschetta." He reached into a warming oven and removed a plate, which he set on the granite top of the coffee table in front of the sofa where they had been sitting.
"Try some of this."
Although Brody had had bruschetta in some chain restaurants, he'd never had any that was quite like this. The very thin toast was quite crisp. The tomato topping was obviously made very recently from fresh tomatoes and basil which had been drizzled with olive oil. And there was a faint taste of garlic in the whole concoction. Brody, who was used to eating at 6:00, realized he was starved. But he would have enjoyed the treat at any time. He took a sip of the sherry. It was nutty and dry, soft on the palate. Beyond that he wouldn't know how to describe it, but it was good with the food.
"Like that?" Lynch asked, watching him carefully with a twinkle in his eye.
"Mmmm. These thingies are great, and I think I could get to like this wine, too."
Lynch smiled his approval. "Ah, there's hope for you. This should be adequate to tide us over for a little while, I think."
They chatted for a while, Brody enjoying the view along with the conversation and the food.
Taking a sip of the sherry he asked, "Adrian, your father lives here in Colby, doesn't he?"
Lynch nodded. "That's right. But I haven't lived with him since I got out of college. He has his life, and I have mine. He oversees the business, but he likes to travel, so he leaves the day-to-day running of things to me. At the moment he's in New York taking in some of the new shows and eating at a different restaurant every day. Getting new ideas, he says. Between you and me, I think he just likes to eat."
"Is your mother in New York, too?"
Lynch grinned. "No, she's in North Carolina playing golf with friends. Then she'll go to her condo in Naples. She doesn't come up this way much since she and Pop were divorced."
Brody didn't know what to say, so he grabbed another bruschetta.
"You must be hungry. Let's have our salad."
He took their sherry glasses to the kitchen, turned a switch on the stove, took two plates of salad to the table, poured pinot grigio into rather large balloon glasses and invited his guest to sit.
After his first bite of salad, Brody took a tentative sip of the pale white wine. It was cold, dry and crisp. Not bad, actually. When they had finished their salad, Adrian said, "Bring your glass and come into the kitchen. You can keep me company while I get this last bit ready."
It seemed to Brody that Lynch spent very little time with the last bit. He quickly sautéed shrimp, bay scallops and capers in a skillet with olive oil, garlic and white wine. When the pasta was cooked, he drained it and filled two large plates with it. Then he put the seafood on top of the pasta. He sprinkled things he told Brody were pignoli, or pine nuts, on the pasta dishes as garnish.
"With all this pasta, we don't really need bread, do we? Especially not with what I've got for dessert."
As they ate, Brody asked, "Were you trained as a chef?"
Lynch grinned. "No, I trained in restaurant management. I've learned to cook by watching the chefs in the restaurant all my life."
"Well, this is incredible. And you seemed to get it done and on the table so quickly."
"Yes, it's a simple menu, not impressive, but easy. I like to spend time with my guests, not cooking in the kitchen while they cool their heels in the living room. And when it's just one guest" --he raised an eyebrow-- "a special guest, I want to spend as much time with him as possible."
Brody blushed. "Thanks. I don't think I'm special. But I am enjoying this a lot, Adrian." He lifted his glass to his host.
Remembering the lunch he'd had recently at the Lynch family's restaurant, Brody asked, "Adrian's isn't an Italian themed restaurant, is it? I mean, veal piccata for lunch the other day, and tonight you serve me bruschetta and pasta. So I wondered . . . ."
Adrian laughed. "No, we consider ourselves eclectic and our menu a fusion of the best cuisines in the world. It's pretty much coincidental that you got Italian both times. Next time I'll do something French for you, or maybe Thai."
When they'd finished their pasta, Brody helped carry the plates and used silverware to the kitchen. There Adrian served up big pieces of chocolate almond cheesecake.
"Here, if you'll carry these to the table, I'll bring the coffee."
The cheesecake was heavenly and, as Brody mentioned to his host, not Italian.
"No indeed. This is pure New York."
They took second cups of coffee to the living room, where they sat side by side again, looking out the window.
"Brody, have you selected a major yet?"
"Thinking about anything in particular?"
"I see. Well, I suppose there's no reason to rush, is there?"
"I'd feel better if I had some idea what direction I was going in."
"Yeah, I can understand that. Now," he said, with a broad smile, "I think I promised you a tour of the rest of the place."
Brody wondered why Adrian had raised the question of his major and then changed the subject.
He showed Brody a large and well-equipped office, a guest bedroom with a king-sized bed, very masculine furniture, and its own bathroom, and then the master suite.
The biggest bedroom Brody had ever seen, it had not only the large bed, but a large armoire as well. In one end were a love-seat and two upholstered chairs. All of the wood in the room was a dark reddish color, probably cherry, Brody thought. The walls were a pewter gray, the thick carpet a charcoal gray. The leather on the love seat and chairs was in a rich cream. The duvet and draperies were in a cranberry colored fabric that looked like silk. Brody was no expert, but he recognized that the bed, armoire and night stands were oriental in design.
"I thought maybe the tour would end here," Adrian said, pulling Brody so they were facing each other. Then he put his hands on Brody's buttocks and pulled him so close their pelvises were squeezed together. "If that's okay with you?"
A breathless, aroused Brody managed to say, "Fine by me!"
Adrian took one hand from Brody's butt and put it on the back of his head. Then he kissed him.
Except for that one time at the airport, Pete and Brody had never kissed, nor had Brody kissed any of his occasional Marine sex partners. His experience with sexual kissing came from his high school days, and the other person involved was always female. But he hadn't forgotten how. Soon he and Adrian were exploring each other's mouths, their hard cocks pressing each other through the layers of fabric between them.
A few minutes later they were still standing there in the bedroom, arms around each other, cheeks together. Into Adrian's ear, Brody asked softly, "How'd you know I was gay?"
Adrian licked Brody's ear, causing him to shudder. "If I said I have excellent gaydar I'd be lying. But that day when I came into your shop there wasn't much doubt. Brody, you looked at me as if you wanted to devour me. There was no mistaking that."
"Aw, shit, was I really that obvious?"
Adrian chuckled, and Brody could feel the rumble where their chests touched. "Yeah, I'm afraid you were. And I was both flattered and relieved."
"Because I felt the same way. I began scheming right then to get you here, in my bedroom, in my bed."
Brody stood back. "You don't mean the whole contract thing was something you came up with just to have sex with me?"
"No, no, not at all. I came to the shop for the very reason I told you. The only thing I improvised was insisting that you handle our account." He grinned. "I'm happy I thought of that because, well, because here you are!"
Brody visibly relaxed.
"Now, will you let me try to make you glad you came this evening?"
"I'm already glad I came, but if you want to make me feel even happier, I'd be a poor guest to refuse, wouldn't I?"
Adrian began to unbutton Brody's shirt. Brody reached for the top button on his host's shirt.
"No, baby, let me undress you. I don't want to be distracted during the unveiling of the body I've fantasized about since that day in your shop."
Brody stood still, allowing Adrian to take off his shirt, his belt, his undershirt. He obediently stepped out of his loafers, his khakis and his boxers when Adrian asked him to. There was an upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. He sat there while his host knelt and removed his socks. Then Adrian took his hands and helped him stand up. By this time Brody's soldier was erect and beginning to leak.
"Will you let me undress you now, please?"
"Be my guest."
So the procedure was repeated.
As they faced each other, swords crossed, Adrian said, "My God! You're as magnificent as I thought you'd be!"
"No, you're the great-looking one."
And Adrian was perfect. Although he was a couple of inches shorter than Brody, his legs were as long. His whole body seemed fluid and elegant. He had a light covering of black hair on his chest, with the usual narrow line down past his navel to his pubes, which he obviously kept neatly trimmed. As Brody was soon to discover, he had no hair on his back or buttocks, though his forearms and legs were, like his chest, lightly covered with hair. Their upright cocks were about the same length and girth.
Brody grabbed the other man and pulled him close, intending to resume their kissing.
"Uh, Brody, since there was garlic in the pasta, maybe we'd better take care of some oral hygiene." He took Brody into the large bath, which had marble everywhere, or so it seemed to Brody. Handing Brody a still-wrapped toothbrush and a fresh tube of toothpaste, he said, "Help yourself. I'll wait until you're finished."
When the two were back in the bedroom, Adrian said, "Now that we're minty fresh, please stretch out on the bed."
Brody noticed that all of the bedcovers except the bottom sheet had been removed from the super king size bed. He lay on his back, feeling eager and surprisingly nervous. Adrian got on his hands and knees, straddling Brody, and initiated another round of kissing. When things began to get pretty hot, he lifted his head. "Now, just lie still, my hunky Marine, and let me pamper you."
Brody closed his eyes and shivered. His host took that as all the encouragement he needed and started licking, kissing, and sucking on Brody's neck. Brody got lost in the sensations he was feeling. He had a very slight buzz from the wine he'd had before and with his meal. He could still smell Adrian's aftershave or whatever it was, along with the faint, delicious scent of a clean male body. And his own body tingled as Adrian licked, nuzzled, and sucked his way ever so slowly south.
"Mr. Lynch, you really know how to make your guests feel welcome."
"Well, you're getting the Class A treatment. Few of my guests inspire me the way you do, Mr. Cox." After spending a while nibbling on Brody's nipples, he moved on, still very slowly. Brody began to giggle when he felt Adrian's tongue probing his navel.
"Oh, jeez, I'm ticklish there!"
Adrian laughed and got off of the younger man. "Okay, then. Roll over."
After Brody had done so, Adrian began to work on the insides of his thighs. He started at the left knee and gradually nuzzled and licked his way up to Brody's balls.
"Umm. You keep your balls shaved. I'll bet you didn't do that in the Marines."
"No, that's something I started doing since I got home."
"I wonder who inspired you to do that. No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
He went back to what he was doing, working on the right thigh this time, as Brody moaned his appreciation.
Inevitably Brody found himself being first expertly rimmed and then finger-fucked. As he became practically delirious, Adrian continued to massage his prostate.
As he had looked forward to this evening, Brody had fully expected to be the top in the sex he was reasonably sure would follow dinner. Instead, he found himself pleading for Adrian to fuck him.
"My, my! I've never had a Marine beg me to fuck him before. Are you sure that's what you want?"
"Oh, God, man, just do it, please!"
"Well," Adrian said, laughing, "never let it be said I didn't do everything I could to make a guest happy."
Adrian had remarkable staying power, and it was Brody who came first, shooting gobs of ejaculate onto the sheet below him. After Adrian exploded into his condom, he collapsed onto Brody's back. The two lay there, breathing heavily. Finally, when his dick had softened and came out of Brody with a soft plop, Adrian swatted Brody's ass and said, "Okay, go clean yourself up. All the towels in the bathroom are fresh."
When Brody got back from the bathroom, Adrian had removed the bed sheet and replaced it. Then he went to the bathroom. Brody put the other covers back on the bed while his host was out of the room.
The two snuggled and talked for a while before drifting off to sleep. `That was fantastic,' Brody thought, `but tomorrow I'm gonna nail him.'
Brody woke at six to discover that Adrian was still asleep. He got out of bed carefully and went to the bathroom. When he returned, Adrian spooned up against him and seemed to smile in his sleep. Loving the feel of Adrian's warm body, Brody uncharacteristically went back to sleep.
When he woke the second time, he felt a mouth on his left ass cheek and a finger working its way up his chute.
"Mmmm. Good morning."
"Good morning, Brody. Sleep well?"
"Good. Now, you'll have to excuse me. I've got something important to do with my mouth."
Adrian continued to suck on his bun and massage his prostate. Again, though he was still a little tender from the night before, he got lost in the feelings his host was providing.
`Damn,' he thought. `I was going to fuck him this time.'
"Oh, yes, play with my butt. Finger my ass!"
Soon there were two fingers and then three. This time Brody didn't plead to be fucked. He just lay there, occasionally wiggling his ass or pushing it toward Adrian, moaning and occasionally swearing. "Fuck, Adrian, that's sooo nice, man! Yeah, there! Right there! Oooh, don't stop!"
Eventually Adrian did stop, but only to insert his sheathed cock into Brody's welcoming hole. Adrian's staying power was even greater than the evening before, but this time Brody never came. He didn't mind, though. He was happy enough just being fucked by his talented host.
When this bout of sex was over, they snuggled for a while. Then Adrian simultaneously kissed Brody and pinched one of his nipples.
"Sorry, baby. But I have to clean up and get to church. Then it's off to the shop to oversee the preparations for Sunday dinner. Wanna come to church with me?"
A startled Brody mumbled that he didn't have the right clothes and he'd just go on home.
He showered while Adrian, wearing nothing but a brilliantly white terry robe, fixed them succulent omelets.
When Brody was leaving, he thanked Adrian profusely, and the two had a hot kiss at the door.
"Mark out Saturday night two weeks from now on your social calendar, baby."
Brody smiled and looked questioningly at Adrian. "Okay. What's up?"
"We're going to the ballet in Detroit."
"Yes. It's time for the Marine to acquire some culture. Besides, the boys are adorable in their tights."
As Brody walked toward the elevator, Adrian leaned out the door and said, "Oh, Brody!"
Brody turned and said, "Yeah?"
"Sorry about the hickey on your butt. Hope it doesn't cause any trouble at the gym."
Brody flushed, fearing the neighbors across the hall might have heard. But then he thought, `What the fuck, they must know what Adrian's like. And they don't know me at all.' There was almost a swagger to his step as he finished his journey to the elevator.
On the way home he could feel the hickey on his ass tingling. He felt wonderful. He'd been fucked twice by an expert. He chuckled. `Next time I'm gonna fuck him.'
Then his thoughts turned to getting ready for Sunday dinner with the Quinns that afternoon.
Up to this point I've neglected to thank Drew and Mickey for all their help, editorial and otherwise, on this story. Better late than never. Thanks, guys!
If you'd like to email me about this story, please do at t (dot) mead (at) yahoo (dot) com. Be sure to put the name of the story in the subject line so I'll know it isn't spam. Thanks. --Tim.