I Know What I'm Doing Ch. 01


I leaned on my forearms as the pace of my thrusts increased I dipped my head to the crook of his neck so I could savour his scent and lick his throat as his string of moans washed over me. He nipped at my neck below my ear, running his tongue over the spot after each bite, to sooth it. I couldn't control the shudders running through my body and I know he felt them too 'cause I felt him smile against my neck. I wished I could see it. One of my hands went down to grip his ass and pull him in harder, tighter.

Then I felt it. The building, the tightening, the overtaking. And I lost my entire self. He was right there with me. His arms clasped around my back, pressing my chest to his. His thrusts were jerking wildly. Mindlessly my lips captured his as our rhythm quickened and he tipped over the edge.

His muffled cries got me so hot I couldn't help myself, I followed right behind him with the most savage orgasm I'd ever known. I released his lips to let out a disbelieving roar as spurt after aching spurt shot from me relentlessly. And when his teeth clamped on my shoulder I thought I would pass out from the intensity.

I nuzzled his neck, gasping like no amount of oxygen would ever be enough. A loose grin was on my face as I lazily enjoyed the tingle in my toes, thighs, and everywhere else. Huge wonder my dick didn't burst off! Though it would need a thorough clean-up - both of us would need a nice hot shower to get rid of all this sweat and the semen puddled at our crotches. Our semen...

Sanity slowly sifted into my brain, polluting the afterglow. What have I done? What have I done?

"Oh shit."

I felt him stiffen before I even looked at him. But I couldn't stop the tumble of panic that left my mouth, "What the hell have I done? I'm not... not... And with a bloody student. Oh gods, you're just a kid!"

"I'm 18." The first words he spoke to me were a whisper.

"Exactly! An 18-year-old guy! You don't understand. I've never... could never..."

He shoved me aside and stood, groping desperately for his laptop and backpack. "Ok. Ok, I get it... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I just thought... Damn it. I'm sorry."

I heard the tears in his soft voice and felt like a royal shit. "No, that's not what I meant. We need to talk."

"I'd really rather skip it. Please move." he was tugging ineffectually at the blanket beneath my feet.

"No, not till we... sort this out. What's your name?" I could feel my pants sticking to the semen spread around my groin.

"Oh damn!" his humiliation was broadcast in his tone.

"Please. I fucked up-"

"I get the message! Go home, have a drink - or ten - and forget about this whole mess. And me. Now move!"

"No, I didn't mean-"

"D'you know what? Fine, whatever. Keep the damn blanket." He stomped off before I could figure what was going on.

"No, wait! Please! We have to..."


* Ethan "Oh shit... Oh shit... Oh shit... Oh shit... Oh shit..."

That was internal. Externally, I think I may have been pulling off some sort of Zen facade.

The internal litany began when my dick jumped at the sight of my architect from five years ago. Less than a minute had passed since he'd opened the door, yet I felt like I might burst into flame if expected to live through another excruciating minute like it.

Of course I'd kissed him all those years ago - he'd been beautiful. Dreaming about him for months on end had led to a moment of freakish insanity. No thought had preceded my move to taste him and now he was looking at me in shocked expectation.

Seriously? I'm supposed to explain my hormonal, lovesick, teenage impulse?

That night, the kiss we'd shared had been impossible to forget. I realised how many times his face had skimmed my thoughts over the years, up to the moment that I unexpectedly found myself dripping on his doorstep, trying to formulate words, any words.

"Um. Um. Uhhh..." Great.

"Get in here. Why are you so wet? Where's your car?"

Since I couldn't speak very well, I'm not too sure how well I explained my situation. He did, however, yell for a towel while he got me signed in with a friendly-faced clerk named Dan. Dan lifted his left eyebrow a lot. Like when I dripped on the reception desk. And when I had a hard time simultaneously staring at my architect and mastering enough English to give Dan the info he needed. And when my architect assured him that he was mistaken about all the rooms being occupied.

Wait. My architect?

He grabbed my bags, making no eye contact. Distaste, irritation, rejection - all familiar pals of mine. Most people I dealt with were put off by dealing with me. I'm just not the popular, charismatic type. Guess the effects are doubled on straight men who've been sexually harassed by gay boys.

"Um... Look, I didn't know this is where you- that you were-"

His tone was rough, "Not now, not here."

His expression was so dark it is almost impossible to make out that his eyes were green. He was finally looking at me - but suspicion was not quite the expression I'd been hoping for. I didn't know what he was expecting me to say, but it didn't matter because he soon walked off. I followed; of course I did. I could follow that beautifully muscled arse to the ends of the earth, no matter the circumstances.

Standing outside, I had noticed that the guesthouse was made up of two wings sprawling to the left and right of the lobby area. My foul-spirited architect did not lead me to either wing, however. Passing the restaurant and adjacent bar, we walked up through the building's "spine"; out to a large square enclosed garden and then into a third wing, set higher up the property's slope. The interior was so impressive I wondered what my bill would be by the end of the ten days I intended staying. Did Dan mention rates during my mental fog? And why had I told them I was staying ten days? I could've booked for the night and then gone out to find some other accommodation in the morning.

The upstairs room he grimly opened to me was gorgeous and far enough to the back of the lodge to feel secluded and peaceful. When he dumped my bag and left without a word, I shakily forced out a petrified breath in gratitude and looked around. It was a large corner suite. There were settees and a coffee table by the massive west-facing windows and the double bed faced the sliding doors leading out onto the sea-view balcony. I stepped out and realised it was a long balcony, running along the entire side of this wing, with another room's door opening onto it at the far end. I could only pray that it was unoccupied, or, at least, didn't have over-zealous social types in it.

A knock at my door called me away from the mesmerising ocean. Dan smiled when I opened. His left eyebrow was down in its normal position.

"Aiden asked me to bring these up in case you wanted to take a shower immediately. This room hasn't been used in a while, so housekeeping wouldn't have dropped any fresh ones off."

He held out a large pair of slippers and an even larger robe and walked past me with fresh towels and started packing them in the cherrywood dresser next to the bathroom door.


He turned to me. Now the eyebrow's up, "The man who brought your bag up?"

"Oh, the manager."

"The owner."


After an odd look he continued neatly arranging towels then took two into the bathroom.

"Let me know if you need anything else, just dial 9 on the phone. I'm also the most clued up on social life around here, so shout if you want to go sightseeing. There are some great restaurants, though none that beat Rachel, our in-house chef. Speaking of which, are you hungry? The kitchen closed half an hour ago, but I should be able to conjure up a light lunch for you if you don't mind a cold one."

"No. Thanks."

Quick shrug. "Alrighty. Anyway, there's also a market down on the beachfront every Sunday. You might dig that. Lots of socialising, minimal spending. By the way, do you speak... more?"

He came and took the oversized robe and slippers from me and went to put them in the closet.

"Sure. Um, sorry. And thanks for the offer to show me around, but I don't think we'd share a common taste in social spots."

How did he get that brow even higher? "Oh really? Well I am the only one on staff who knows the address of the new gay bar that opened in central town. I'm also the only one who can get you into the small exclusive gay club downtown since my partner manages it. And, considering gay people do the rest of the stuff that the other boring folk do, I figure I'm pretty well equipped to take you eating, shopping, hiking or whatever."

He was grinning from ear to ear by the time I swooned at his third "gay".

"I didn't say I was-"

His look turned quizzical, "So you're bi? Sorry, I was just so sure."

"No, you're right. I am gay. But how did you know? I don't exactly... swish."

His grin was back. "I ogled Aiden the same way for about a month when I started working here. Six foot two of golden muscle will do that to you. Or maybe it's those stunning green eyes."

He laughed. I didn't have to ask why; I'd felt the heated blush begin in my neck and rise from there.

"Don't fret; the man's an irresistible god - how are you supposed to ignore that?" His gaze turned lewdly conspiratorial as he headed for the door. "Enjoy your shower."

My blush deepened. His impish laugh skipped around me as he closed the door behind himself.

* My shower was a long one. The moment I stepped under the spray my imagination had Aiden in there with me. Despite his grim welcome, I found myself unable to stop thinking about his sun-streaked brown hair and his sensuous lips. I wondered what his large frame looked like naked. He was well built, not in the manner of gym freaks, more of a blend of genetic gifts and a healthy lifestyle.

Six foot two of golden muscle... I tugged at the erection that had been simmering since I'd arrived and its heat hit boiling point. I raised my face to the spray and savoured the feel of the rivulets running down my stomach, across my groin and down my thighs. I remembered the way Aiden had touched my face five years ago as we lay on that blanket in the sunset. His fingers had skimmed my face as lightly as the water down my body now. Oh, the thought of those hands all over my body...

Well, I'd certainly succeeded in blocking out the pain and fear of... that other guy. I would laugh at the exhilaration of not thinking of him for a whole hour - if I didn't feel like crying, because crushing on a straight guy was far, far worse.

And yet here I was, stroking my dick to the recent memories of Aiden's deep voice and powerful arms. Slick with the mixture of water and precum and aching for the completion of a five-year-old fantasy. Six foot two of golden muscle...

My nipples pebbled and my cock was aching like it did when I was fourteen and Matt the surfer had moved into the house down the street. My strokes sped up as my other hand slid down to cup my heavy balls and give them a tug. I moaned as I pictured Aiden on his knees, taking my length between those sexy lips; and that was all it took. Within seconds I was leaning weak-kneed against the tiled wall, spurting like a teenager.

After drying off, I put on the plush robe. It was so luxurious; I didn't know how I was ever going to take it off. Aiden certainly knew how to make his guests want to stay forever.

A thought occurred to me and I went to the bed. I picked up the phone and dialled 9.

Dan was prompt, "Mr Montgomery?"

That threw me. "No, uh, Dan. It's me, Ethan. You brought me towels earlier."

I'd never heard his laugh sound anything but mischievous, "Yes, Mr Gray. I must've read the room number on the switchboard all wrong. You need anything?"

"Yes and, please, call me Ethan. I've just noticed that I wasn't given a roomkey. Could you please send it up?"


"Uh, sure. In fact, I'll get Aiden to sort this out himself,"

"No! You don't have to-" Dial tone.

I panicked. And since my panicking tends to come sans rational thought but loaded with impulsive action, I cinched my giant robe as best I could and ran from my room. I had to get to Dan and that key. I needed more time before having to deal with the grim Mr Montgomery.

I flew down the stairs and tripped on the last one, but fortunately I was saved from smooching the laminated wood floor by muscular arms and a solid chest. Goosebumps blossomed up my arms and even before I looked up I knew it would be into Aiden's irritated gaze.

"I'm sorry. I think I tripped on the robe."

"You were planning on running out there in just this?"

I felt my neck warm and prayed for the damn blush not to make it to my face. "I, uh, had to see Dan. Urgently."

His eyes narrowed sharply in an expression I couldn't name, then he took a deep breath. As his chest rose, I became aware of his grip on me and my treacherous body doing all it could to mould itself to his hard heat. I felt like I was being sniffed out by a predator on the hunt. I wanted to nuzzle his neck and run my tongue along his jawline. I jerked back before he caught me out.

His green eyes pinned me in place, "How did you find me?"

Confrontation time and I was anything but prepared. "I didn't. I was on my way up the coast with a friend, but then I changed my mind on the way and came here."


I groped for a less feeble answer then gave up and muttered, "I don't know."

The air around us vibrated with Aiden's angry growl of disbelief. "You expect me to believe that you wandered into a town that you don't know with nowhere else to stay, in the middle of peak vacationing season - and my doorstep, all the way up the hill, outside of the town itself is the place where you coincidentally find yourself?" His gaze narrowed threateningly, "Don't insult my intelligence. Now cut to the chase."

His menacing expression terrified me, which served only to increase my confusion. "I don't- I don't know what you mean by-"

"How. Much?" The words snapped from between clenched teeth.

I cowered against the banister behind me. "How much what? I really don't-"

The disgust on his face almost distracted me from his words and their meaning, "You have obviously been doing your homework. At some point between that night and this day, you found who I was... how much I have. Once the greed had wormed its way into that stupid little head of yours, you discarded all common sense and decided to find me; and what? See how much money you could wheedle out of me to keep my fiancée in the dark? Well, I have news for you. I don't give a damn who you tell. It's too late. I won't have-"

"You're engaged."

That's all I comprehended from his vicious tirade.

The last time I'd seen Mark, the night I'd gotten a restraining order against him, he'd smashed a glass in my face in a club. When I'd fallen to the floor, he'd kicked me. In said face. Large shards had lodged themselves in various parts of my face. I still sport two very faint scars, a small one above my right eye and a larger one along my jaw. Doctors had said I was lucky that he'd missed my eye, tongue and throat.

This hurt more than that.

"Yes, I'm engaged. What game are you playing?"

"No game." I husked. "I really didn't know any of it. That you own this place, or that you're getting married. But don't worry; I'll be out by morning."

I made a move for the stairs, praying that I wouldn't collapse before reaching my room, but he blocked my path. I hated being cornered. Being mocked, threatened or despised were normally simpler to deal with as the other party were never too keen on being around the source of their disgust for long. But the ones who insisted on confrontation made it unbearable. He wasn't saying a word, just staring as if reaching into me and touching parts I would never share with anyone.

Finally he spoke. "Ok. I believe you. It's all damned strange, but I believe you."

I sagged in relief, but then tensed immediately when he added, "But you can't leave."

"No, I must-"

"You won't find any accommodation in Plett or any of the surrounding towns. This region gets booked full every December, what with Christmas coming, and all the summer tourists. Plus you don't have a car. Forget it, you have to stay. We'll figure something out over the next few days."

How many days can I stand, watching you and the woman you love? How long before it breaks me?

"I can't stay. Your fiancée-"

"Isn't here for the next week. Look, don't worry about her. I'm offering you a room, please accept it as apology for the things I said to you. I don't normally blow up like that, guess it's the godawful time I've had lately."

It actually took me a moment to remind myself that the cause of his 'godawful time' was none of my business. Let his big-breasted bimbo lick his wounds for him. "That's alright."

"No, it's not. I had no right to use you as a punching bag, no matter how lousy things have been for me."

No one had ever taken back hurtful things they'd done to me before. That is what I blame for my moment of weakness.

"Listen, I'll stay, if you quit beating yourself up about this. It's no big deal, really."

Again I tried to circle and pass him, and again he stood in my way. I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to face that muscular chest without making a fool of myself by nuzzling into it.

"Dan called me, he said you needed me."

Shit. "Oh, no. Well-" I croaked

"You don't?"

"No, I do. Yes. But-"

"Which is it?"

I don't know. "I don't have a roomkey. I called Dan to ask if he could have it sent up. I didn't think he'd send you."

"Oh, that. There isn't one."

"What? That can't be right. What happens when I go out?"

"You close your door. I'll give you the spare keys to the main and back doors of this wing. Your things will be perfectly safe."


"Ok, here's the deal: the two lower wings that you saw out front, those are the actual guesthouse. This northern wing is private."


"Yes, it's my personal home. The guesthouse is completely booked as it is every peak season. You are staying free of charge in a guest suite in my home. The second door on the balcony upstairs leads into the master bedroom. My bedroom."

With that, he left.

* Aiden The Montgomery had been an early inheritance from my grandparents two years ago. It had been their home of thirty years by then, secluded and sprawled out at the top of the enormous piece of land they'd bought on Victory Hill. They were now in Cape Town, retired and frustrating my parents with outlandish business and decor advice. My granddad wants my parents to paint their living room walls red.

My brother, Chris, had shown zero interest in owning half of an aging seaside home, so I'd bought his share and set about renovating. A guesthouse had been born out of impulse, intuition and serendipity. I'd loved the end result so much that I couldn't sell it for profit as I'd originally intended. After four months of avoiding putting it on the market, my father had hinted that I might benefit from actually working the place. So, a year ago, I sold Chris most of my shares in the family business - he thrived there so much more than I ever had anyway - invested the money, and moved out to Plettenberg Bay with Carolynn.

And it was the best advice, I'd ever taken. Sitting behind my desk in my home office, I felt like I truly belong in this town, and this life. Even despite the photos, papers and tapes scattered on my desk.

Carolynn had spat pure fury when I'd asked her to give up the glamour of being a pampered socialite and begin a new life in a fairly small town. We'd argued almost daily for the last year. She'd even tried withholding sex, which hadn't bothered me as much as I'd thought it would. Then she'd started taking longer and longer trips into the city. I should've known what was coming.

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