Sweet Spot Ch. 03

"You look hot. Feel like taking a swim?"

"A swim? Where?"

Andy grinned. "That's right, I never did give you the full tour last night, did I? Right this way."

Paul followed him through the living room, to the sliding windows that opened to the back garden. He stopped short at the sight of the pool. "Oh, wow."

"Nice, huh?"

"I'll say. You should have told me. I'd have brought a swim suit."

"Well, unfortunately it's not private enough that you don't need one, unless it's maybe three in the morning, and my trunks would probably be too big around the waist. You should be fine in those tightey-whiteys you wear, though," Andy leered.

"You like those, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." More precisely, he liked Paul in them.

"I don't know. They turn fairly transparent."

"Oh, well. Maybe next time."

"Ah, to hell with with it," Paul growled, and started undressing in a hurry. Andy barely had a chance to admire the unveiling, before Paul was diving cleanly into the water. "Oh, my God," Paul moaned, surfacing in the middle of the pool and shoving his hair back. "This is great."

Andy pulled off his shirt and joined him. He relaxed at one side, his arms stretched out and resting on the edge of the pool, and watched Paul swim a few laps.

"Do you understand the concept of relaxing?" he asked curiously, when Paul paused for breath.

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, this..." Andy waved his hand back and forth vigorously, indicating either end of the pool several times, "this is not exactly relaxing."

Paul grinned and swam closer to Andy. "Activity relaxes me."

Andy snagged one of Paul's wrists, and pulled him even closer, then spun him slowly, so that Paul's back was resting against his chest. He wrapped his legs loosely around Paul's body, supporting his weight, so that Paul could float without exerting any effort. "Here, try this instead," he said.

Paul tensed for a couple of seconds, then slowly let his head fall back until it was resting on Andy's shoulder. He took a deep breath and relaxed, his arms loosely floating on the surface. "This is nice, too," he murmured.

Andy kissed his temple and then rested his cheek against Paul's and closed his eyes. The cicadas' song, a bit too loud to be considered truly peaceful, had been the constant background of every one of Andy's summers, and with Paul's body brushing against his in the cool water, he felt a sense of well-being and completeness that he couldn't remember having felt for years. He wished he had a better-stocked fridge, so that they could share watermelon and feta cheese, and that he'd thought to dock his iPod, so that they could listen to music. He wondered if Paul like the Eagles, or if he knew any of the Greek songs that had marked his own summers.

"I could fall asleep like this," Paul mumbled.

"You can if you want to. I'll hold you," Andy said seriously, and he felt Paul smile against his cheek.

---o-O-o---

"It's Friday tomorrow," Andy commented, after they'd hoisted themselves out of the pool and stood air-drying at its side. Paul thought it must be nearing eleven.

A cool breeze had kicked up, rustling through the pine needles, and Paul curled his toes into the grass and stretched pleasurably. He was aware of Andy's gray eyes on him, and he arched his back a little, pushing his groin forward. It was probably too dark for Andy to see his dick starting to swell, but Paul was sure that Andy grasped the implications of his move.

"TGIF. We've got the tennis academy in the morning, but then I'm off until Monday."

"Yeah? Any plans?"

"Not really. Laundry, sleep." Paul swallowed. "Maybe we could do something together?"

"Sure. Hey, have you been to Delfi?"

"Back when I was fifteen or sixteen. I was competing in Germany and the whole family flew over and we came down to Greece for three weeks."

"So you probably don't want to go again." Andy sounded disappointed.

"No, I do. I don't remember much," Paul hastily assured him.

"Great! We could take off Friday afternoon, stay in Galaxidi and then go up to Delfi Saturday morning. Afterward, we could either head back to Galaxidi or Itea and find a nice beach, maybe stay another night, or come back to Athens."

"Sounds good." And it did, although it made Paul a little nervous, too. It felt too early for them to be planning weekends away together. Andy was easy to talk to, but Paul had trouble imagining what they'd find to discuss for a whole day -- perhaps two -- together. Plus, Paul was pretty sure that their ideas on what constituted an affordable hotel room differed considerably.

"Do you have someplace in mind to stay?" he asked with trepidation. Maybe he could look it up on Tripadvisor, figure out the finances. Better yet, if Andy didn't know a specific hotel, Paul could book something he'd be able to afford half of.

"Yeah, I'll make the reservations, don't worry about it," Andy said easily.

"Uhm, Andy, listen, I'm not sure..." Paul paused, wondering if he should address the whole weekend away together idea, or just the affordability issue. The latter seemed less of a rejection of Andy -- of them together -- but it was just as hard to tackle, because Paul had always thought that by now he'd be settled financially. Instead, it was still like he was trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up.

"Not sure about what?"

Paul figured there was no point to being honest about one part of his life, if he was now going to start being dishonest about another.

"Remember yesterday, when I said I don't need money? Well, I don't, but it's not like I have that much, either."

"But what about your tennis earnings?"

"At my level, the winnings aren't as big as you seem to think they are, not that I won all that often in the first place. And while I had a couple of sponsors, they only covered some of my expenses: travel, participation fees, a trainer, that kind of thing. I'd started to put money aside when I worked for my family, but I sank most of that pot into my co-op in Manhattan, and when I sold it, there wasn't much left over. So I... well, basically it's money in, money out right now," Paul explained painfully, his face aflame.

"So I'll cover this. It's no big deal."

"No, it is. I mean, maybe it isn't, not for you, but I want to cover my half."

"That doesn't make sense, Paul. If it's no problem for me, why are you worrying about it? If I went alone, I'd still spend the same money on hotels, and this way I've got good company, as well."

"But you wouldn't go alone."

"You don't know that. Maybe I would," Andy said stubbornly.

"How often have you been to Delfi alone up until now?"

"Well, not that often, really. But as I'm getting older, I'm starting to appreciate my national heritage more."

Despite his embarrassment over the whole financial issue, Paul found himself fighting not to smile at Andy's sheepish tone. "So, how often over the past five years? Once? Twice?"

"Well, to be precise... sort of...never."

Paul laughed. "Oh, Andy. I appreciate it. I do. It's just..." He gestured vaguely, uncertain as to how to complete the sentence.

"Okay, how about this then. You come over tomorrow after work. We lie around the pool and order in. Then, Saturday morning, I dig out the slides from our family trip to Delfi when I was seven, and we look at those, and then we return to the side of the pool, drink ouzo and eat mezedes. After that we play it by ear."

"Yeah?" Paul smiled, relieved that Andy was taking it so well. "That sounds excellent."

"You say that now, but you don't know how many slides my dad is capable of taking on a single trip," Andy said darkly. "Most of them from very bad angles."

Paul laughed. "Still doesn't sound too bad. When we came to Greece, my mom had a camera virtually glued to her right eye and she insisted that all four kids needed to be in every single frame. My brothers were both in college by that point, and they hadn't even wanted to come along on the trip, let alone pose for endless photos. My mom nearly cried when she saw the pictures and realized they were glaring in every single one of them."

"What about you?"

"I had sort of an afro do going, these aviators that I thought were cool but really weren't, braces and zits. So not an improvement, really."

"Huh. You turned out pretty well then, all things considered."

"Why, thank you, sir."

Andy reached out and hooked a finger on the waistband of Paul's briefs, drawing him closer. Paul went willingly, and looped his arms around Andy's neck. Andy bent down to kiss him, his lips warm and soft on Paul's, the faint scratch of his stubble making Paul shiver with sensation.

"Cold? You want to go inside?" Andy asked.

"Yeah, let's."

Paul followed Andy inside and stood by as Andy closed and locked the shutters. Andy's trunks were riding low on his hips, and Paul reached out to trace one of the two dimples at the base of his spine. Andy threw him a smile over his shoulder, and moved through the living room toward the bedroom.

"I'm going to rinse the pool water off. Want to join me?"

It was one of those things that Paul had never figured the attraction of. A shower had always seemed like a damn uncomfortable -- not to mention a little dangerous -- place to fool around in and while Paul always appreciated a group shower scene in a porn film, he was also glad it wasn't his knees or butt down on the tile. Still, he found himself nodding eagerly in response to Andy's suggestion.

Andy stripped and adjusted the water temperature and pressure, then stepped into the cubicle and turned towards Paul. Paul became lost in contemplation of Andy's dick, long and pink, the foreskin slightly pulled back from the plumb head.

"Well?" Andy asked, and he sounded like he was smiling, but Paul couldn't drag his eyes away from that cock, and from the wet blond curls at its base, to check his expression. He stepped into the stall and cupped Andy's balls with one hand, the tips of his fingers tickling the tender skin behind them. Andy's breathing quickened, and he widened his stance.

"Oh, yeah," Andy whispered, when Paul wrapped his other hand loosely around Andy's succulent dick and gave an experimental tug or two. He leaned his forehead against Andy's shoulder, and Andy reached behind him to brace himself against the wall and support Paul, as well. Feeling more secure, Paul dragged his mouth across the base of Andy's throat and nipped slightly at his collarbone, both his hands still busy stroking. Andy grunted his name, and rocked his hips, looking for more friction.

"Shh, relax," Paul soothed, and Andy gave a strangled laugh.

"Can't. You drive me crazy. Zero to sixty in nothing flat."

"You wanna cum? Or maybe we could stop, go to bed, glove up, and I could suck you," Paul teased, slowing his ministrations, and Andy wrapped his free hand around Paul's and forced him to move more quickly again.

"Fucker," Andy gasped, then "Oh, yeah, just like that," and then he wrapped both arms tightly around Paul and came in warm spurts against Paul's belly and hands, before relaxing. Paul felt a moment of pure panic as they both lurched off-balance, but Andy steadied them, even as he kissed Paul deeply.

"Good?" Paul asked, because he was a little uncomfortable with the silence, but couldn't think of anything to say, and Andy sighed gustily.

"Not bad," Andy said, "but you could do with some more practice."

"Asshole," Paul grinned, and pushed Andy a little to the side, so that he could stand under the water and rinse off. Andy stepped out of the stall to dry off, then handed Paul a fresh towel.

"I've never done that before," Paul commented, as he rubbed the towel briskly through his hair.

"What, jerk someone off? Yeah, I could tell. See, that's why you need practice."

"No, showered with someone. I've never had that kind of relationship with anyone before," Paul continued, before his brain caught up with his mouth.

"What, never?"

Andy looked surprised, but he also looked pleased, the smile in his gray eyes warming Paul. Paul wrapped the towel around his waist and then combed his fingers through his curls in an effort to untangle them. Andy came to stand behind him, and replaced Paul's hands with his own. Paul closed his eyes and let Andy work.

"My only longer term relationship was with my trainer, when I was twenty, and we were both too freaked about my dad or coach walking in on us, so even that was more a series of quickies than anything else." Somehow it was easier to tell Andy his experiences when he couldn't see his face. He didn't want proof that Andy probably found him pretty pathetic.

Andy kissed the crown of his head, and tugged lightly on his hair. "Let's go to bed," he said. "I want you to fuck me."

Paul opened his eyes in surprise, and met Andy's in the mirror. They stared at each other for a little, then Andy repeated "Let's go to bed," and Paul followed him, his chest full with things he wasn't sure he wanted to admit even to himself, let alone to Andy.

---o-O-o---

Unlike Paul, there wasn't a lot Andy hadn't done sexually, so long as it didn't involve two specific bodily functions. As far as he could tell, his childhood and teen years had been a lot less structured and supervised than Paul's, and once he'd been outed, he hadn't had much to worry about, as long as remained minimally discreet. The one thing he hadn't done, was get his feelings involved. Not that he'd avoided it -- even though living in Greece and only once-removed from the political limelight, setting up a happy home with someone wasn't without challenges -- but it just hadn't happened. He'd had fun with most, and been fond of a few, but goodbyes had always been pretty easy and painless, whether they came after a couple of hours or a couple of months.

And so, until Paul, Andy hadn't really understood that sex could be more than fun, or getting his rocks off. He pushed his face into the pillow, trying to keep quiet, because he was afraid he'd start sobbing otherwise, and the worst part was that he had no idea why, because he wasn't the least bit sad. He arched his hips up to take Paul deeper, and Paul tightened his grasp on Andy's shoulders, kissed his nape and pushed back. He nudged against Andy's prostate, just the right pressure and rhythm, and Andy knew he was going to cum again, which had to be some sort of record for him. He wished he could see Paul's face, his eyes, but he was also glad that Paul couldn't see him. He squeezed his face deeper into the pillow, Paul's body a sweet weight on his back.

"Andy," Paul whispered over and over again. "Andy. Andy." One of Paul's hands burrowed under the pillow to find Andy's and lace their fingers together. "Andy."

Andy tightened his fingers around Paul's, and pushed his hips up again, wanting more friction, more contact, more everything. He could tell Paul was nearing his own orgasm, and he flexed his hole, trying to lock Paul in.

"Andy!" Paul repeated, a rough cry now, and he pressed harder into Andy, his thrusts wild and right on the edge of pain, pulling Andy over with him.

After they both stilled, Andy turned his head to the side, so that he could breathe. A slight breeze from the ceiling fan cooled his face.

"Oh, honey eyes," Andy groaned, and Paul, still lying on top of Andy, laughed a little and kissed Andy's cheek.

"Good?" Paul asked, and Andy thought of telling him he needed more practice again, but found he couldn't change moods that quickly.

"So good," he said instead. "The best I've ever had."

"Yeah," Paul agreed lowly after what felt like a long, long while, and slid off Andy to lie on his stomach next to him.

Andy rolled off the wet spot and, still wanting the contact with Paul's skin, reached across to run his fingers down Paul's back, following the dip of his spine to the small patch of fine hairs at its base. Paul squirmed a little.

"Tickles," he objected sleepily, and Andy spread his palm in a firmer caress.

"Hey, Paul?"

"Hmmm?"

"This coming out thing of yours. I'm not just part of it, am I? I mean, you're not suddenly going to vanish without a word, when you've done what you've come to Greece to do, are you?"

"No."

He didn't sound too sure, but Andy would take what he could get.

"Good. And if there's anything you need, like advice or for me to talk to someone on your behalf, you'll tell me, right?"

"God, no," Paul retorted sharply, sounding scandalized.

"Good. Because you should know, I'm no good at that shit. But I want to help, if I can." Andy squeezed his eyes shut, and wondered why the things he wanted to say to Paul always sounded so much better in his head than out loud.

"Hey, Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go to sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Andy said, greatly relieved, and stroked Paul's back once more in gratitude for his understanding.

"But thanks. And if you ever need anything, it goes both ways. You know?" Paul said awkwardly.

"Okay."

"Are you laughing?" Paul asked suspiciously, but he was starting to chuckle, as well.

It took them a long while to settle down after that, because one kept on setting the other off. And by the time they fell quiet, Andy had developed a powerful yearning to blow Paul, and it turned into another late night. He'd probably need to hit the snooze button at least three times tomorrow, Andy reflected sleepily, as he burrowed more closely against Paul's side. Four, if Paul snored again.