Silver Heat Ch. 02

"Stop acting stupid and get back in here and sleep with me. And hurry up. Four-thirty comes awful early."

"Okay." Grinning again, Lance slides back into bed and into Neal's arms, where he lies when the morning alarm goes off. Both men awake. Lance leans and pecks Neal on the lips. "Gotta shower and change. Hurry up. The big ones are waitn' for us."

Driving north along the I95, neither man is wide awake, so silence prevails. Lance is driving. Neal's Buick is actually the better car, but Lance's rental Volvo is sexier looking and more fun. Without distracting him from his driving, Neal reaches to lightly stroke Lance's cheek with the back of his index finger. Lance takes his eyes off the road for a moment to smile at Neal.

"Do we have time to pick up some coffee to go," Lance asked.

"Well, let's see. It's 6:45," Neal says, "I am sure they won't wait for us, but we are only about a half hour away now. That gives us 45 minutes extra, so yes we have time, but not to sit and drink, just coffee to go."

"Great. I sure could use another cup. Somebody kept me up last night."

"Ha ha. I tried as HARD as I could to keep you UP as long as I could."

"Ain't it stupid? The two of us are actin' like a couple of school kids."

"Feels kinda nice, I'd say."

"Yup."

"Lance, I just checked my phone. There is a Starbucks coming up, look for the turn off for Highway 100 and head east, it's about one and a half blocks on the left."

"Okay, there it is, 100."

In Starbucks, a very gay young man keeps looking at them in an understanding way. They start giggling and can't stop. Neal orders a straight Ethiopian, the coffee of the day. Lance has his usual double depth charge with chocolate and a piece of ice to cool it enough to drink. Just for the satisfaction of the young barrista, Lance pats Neal on the ass on the way out the door. Laughing like crazy they run back to the convertible and try to jump in over the doors, like a couple of twenty-year olds. Neal makes it, Lance does' not. He wound up straddling the door as if it were a horse. He straightens everything out and gets in the car without spilling his coffee.

"Did you see that young kid looking at us?" Neal asked."

"Yeah, I think he thought we were a couple."

"Yeah, but a couple of what?"

They laughed so hard they almost missed the turn to get on the 1A north."

"God damn, Neal. Thank you for bringing laughter back into my life. I'll love you for that 'til the day I die."

"Yeah, well, watch where you're drivin' or that'll be soon, Lance."

*** *** ***

They arrived in plenty of time to board the Love Life II. Neal introduced Lance to the boat's owner, Jeff Long. While they were roaring out to sea, enjoying coffee and doughnuts, they chatted with the ease of life-long friends. Lance tried to talk about their relationship, tried to explain, classify, categorize, understand. Neal argued that ovethinking their relationship might destroy its immediacy.

In public, especially around other men, they did not touch one another except for those male acceptable punches and pats and pinches. This "hands off" policy was not something they had agreed upon, it came naturally, subconsciously. It wasn't that they did not want to come out, they didn't come out because they were not gay. Both men had had rich heterosexual love lives for many years. Each would probably do so again, if the opportunity presented itself.

The emotional and physical bond developing between them could not be forced into some arbitrary box of definition, Neal argued, it defied definition. They needed each other, they were there for each other. That was about it.

The spot the captain chose to begin fishing looked to Lance exactly the same as the 2000square miles of ocean they had already seen. Hey had caught a few good sized red fish and some other not so exciting fish. Captain Long addressed Lance directly. "Want to try for a barracuda?'"

"Is that good?" Lance asked. "I am a very good fresh water fisherman, but this is my first time at sea. Is a barracuda a big fish?"

"Well, not as big as some, they can go up to six feet, but around here thirty-six to forty eight inches is gonna be max. But, and as they say, this is a big but," The captain said, slapping his oversized buns, "A barracuda is a hell of a fish to catch. They fight like hell. They are one of the most dangerous fish in the sea. They even look evil. Whereas your thirty-six to forty-four inch Northern, for example, might weigh in at five or six pounds, a three foot barracuda is gonna weigh in at about twelve to fifteen pounds."

Lance smiled hugely, stood up and took off his shirt. "Let's do it!" he exclaimed.

Neal laughed out loud. "Easy Tarzan, there's no Jane around here." The baiter rerigged their lines for barracuda. Lance was impressed by the need for steel leaders and completely baffled by the bait. It looked like a long piece of orange or red plastic with a treble hook at the end. "Excuse me, George, what kind of bait is that?"

"It's a long piece of red plastic. Nobody knows why, but barracuda love to hit them."

"Uh, okay," Lance remained baffled, but remembered his oath to 'carpe diem'.

They had been trolling off the stern at high speed for about ten minutes when Lance felt a tremendous tug on his line. Holding his rod tip high, he snapped it up sharply. The line went taut and the rod bent in a severe arc. Lance felt the thrill only a fisherman knows. "I got him," he yelled.

It appeared that Neal had done this before. Ignoring his own rod, he stood by Lance's side uttering a steady stream of advice. "Keep it tight. Keep that rod tip up. Reel. Reel hard." The captain had cut the engines and was slowly backing into the fish. "Reel, reel hard, don't let up. Keep up the pressure," he shouted. "Don't let the line go slack."

After only five minutes, Lance's arms felt as if he had been swinging an axe all day. His back muscles felt on fire and his legs were rigid. Neal moved closer and set the flat of his hand on Lance's shoulder blade. "Cumon, buddy, bring him in. Yes. Ha ha! That's what we came for."

After about five minutes more, Lance saw the silvery blue fish flash by under water, heading for the boat. He tipped his rod up even higher and reeled like a madman. The fish fought back, clearing the water and flashing into the sunlight above the sea.

"Oh, he's a nice one," Jeff Long yelled, "keep him tight, don't let him throw the hook. That's it, reel him in. George, the gaff!"

After a few more dramatic moments, the large fish hung from the gaff hook over the side.

"He's a big one, Jeff yelled, forty inches or so, probably weigh in over fifteen pounds. I am sorry to tell you this, but it will cost you fifty more bucks if you want to bring him on board, probably another three hundred or so to filet out and mount. It's worth it to some folks."

"What do you think, Neal.?

"Well, you ain't young enough to have twenty years to look at him. And your kids'll probably sell him at a garage sale for ten bucks. I say put him back."

"Well, let's make sure we got some good pictures at least. Not that I won't remember this."

After a few quick photos, the big barracuda was released. Lance felt truly relieved and satisfied as the silver blue form flitted away into the depths, despite the burning in his hands and the ache in his neck, shoulders and arms.

Lance let Neal drive the convertible 'home', while he lay back, hands knitted behind his head, his graying 'freak flag' blowing and twisting in the wash, a huge smile lighting up his face.

By one thirty, they were back at Neal's seaside cottage, drinking Diet Dew and laughing contentedly.

"What d'ya wanna do for dinner," Neal asked.

"Well, hell, if I can't have barracuda, what d'ya say I throw a couple a huge steaks and a couple'a potatoes on your grill. I feel the manly need for meat."

After a quick run to town for the makings, the two friends, clad in shorts only, sat in Adirondack chairs on the deck while the potatoes baked, gazing out to sea and sipping Dew. Neal rose, walked over to place his palm on Lance's bare back.

"I been wanting to tell you something for a while now," Neal said. "Remember the other night, the first night you spent here, god, was it only two or three days? It seems like I have known you for years. Anyway the night I brought out the dope for us to smoke?"

"Yeah, I remember, you. . ." Lance rose from his chair and went to lean on the deck rail, gazing out at the surging gray ocean.

"Lemme finish, okay? Anyway I said I had gotten the pot and the little pipe and case from a 'friend'? Well, he was, is a little, maybe a lot more than a friend. Many, many years ago, back in college, I experimented with several men, boys really, classmates and frat brothers, and one really sort of serious relationship with a guy, uh, Mike. Anyway, I sort of considered myself a bi-sexual, if ya wanna put a label on it, which I didn't. You know how it was back then. Free love and all that. That kinda went on for a few years, into my thirties, going out with guys and girls, whatever felt good. Then I met my Mary. Dear, dear Mary. I gave it all up for her. Pledged her my troth, gave my word. I stayed true to her all those years, not only giving up other women, but my attraction for men, too.

"You know, Neal, our meeting, being together, is truly amazing, I. . ."

"Almost finished, good buddy, just a bit more." Lance scrunched his neck to one side as if to crack away the stress of months of grief, and the soreness from the days fishing. Neal seeing Lance's soreness and pain, instinctively took a few steps to stand behind Lance and slightly to his left. As he spoke, he began to softly rub Lance's shoulders. "Three years ago, when Mary died, pretty suddenly, too, I was much like you are now. Desolate, inconsolable. I barely ate, didn't go out, basically felt my life was over. I went on that way for a while. One day the phone rang. An old friend from college days called up and said he was coming through here, was kinda pressed for cash. Asked if he could spend a couple days at my place on his way south for a job. Well, it woke me up a bit, 'a friend in need' and all that. Well this guy, Duane and I had made it a few times way back when."

"One night while he was stayin' with me, we smoked up a dube or two, his dope, not mine, I hadn't smoked in 25 years, you know, kinda like for old times sake. We got high and right here on this porch, he reached out and put his palm on the front of my shorts. And it all came back. Within minutes we were goin' at it just as we had so many years before." Neal's massage grew stronger, probed deeper, kneading the stress away. "It seems amazing to me that the, the, well, the other side of my sexuality could come back like that, so strong, after so many years. And then he went away. In the three years since then, I have manged to have sex three times, sudden random occurrences, all with men, pretty anonymous. And then along came you. And when I saw you that night, trying so desperately to come, I was thoroughly interested, excited and emotionally touched. I could feel your hurt, having only gone through it a few years ago. Then you got, well, sick. I woke up and there you were, there it was, that glorious hunk of meat you tote around everyday. And hell, hee hee, the rest is history as they say."

Neal's massage grew intense now. He moved to stand directly behind Lance. His firm fingers dug into the soreness of Lance's back, down low under the band of his shorts, almost to his buttocks, back up along his spine, out across his shoulders and down his upper arms. Lance sighed deeply. Neal could feel the stress leaving Lance, feel the goose bumps shiver across his body.

"What's truly amazing," Lance began, "is all the simularities in our lives. I, too played around when I was younger. I too gave it up to marry my sweetheart. I also am grieving, and I have found you. Even more amazing, I had a bisexual lover in my youth, only experimenting at the beginning, but going further as we grew older. I would come home from the service, we would get together. He came home from college, we got together. Went on like that for years until I got married, moved away, lost track. Wanna hear what's really weird?" There followed a long pause.

"Huh, yeah sure tell me."

"His name was Michael."

"Weirder and weirder."

Neal's hands tracked down, his palms covering Lance's nipples, still massaging.

"Ohhh," Lance sighed. He leaned back to let Neal support his weight and laid his head back on Neal's shoulder. Neal's hands branched out, fingertips cruising chest, navel, ribs. Neal turned his head and kissed Lance's neck, nibbling alongside his adam's apple. Their bodies were now in full contact. Only two layers of thin shorts separated their lithe bodies. Even through the clothng between them, Neal's cock was like a living presence behind Lance.

Neal bent his head over Lance's shoulder to lick and suck at one erect nipple. Below, his hands insinuated themselves under the elastic band of Lance's shorts, his fingertips entwining in the mass of curly red hair he found there. Lance's huge prick strained against the fabric of his jean shorts, yearnng to pop free. Moments later, Neal's fist was closed most of the way around Lance's dick, caressing it softly.

"Oh yes," Lance moaned.

Neal grasped lance's cock more firmly and stroked it hard and fast three times. Lance thrust his hips forward. Neal resumed his slow stroking. He let go of Lance's cock for a moment to insert his thumbs in Lance's waistband and push his shorts down. He resumed his stroking, alternating several sharp, hard, fast strokes with slow sensuous strokes, but now Lance's penis stood out straight and proud and hard as stone.

Neal whispered directly into Lance's ear, "God I love your cock, it's so, so intimidating. It's like a whole living being." With his one free hand, he struggled and fumbled, finally unclasping and unzipping his own shorts. As he bent to suck and nibble on Lance's nipple again, his slim, iron hard cock made its presence known, lying full length between Lance's tight butt cheeks. "I love your cock," Neal repeated, using his fist to push back Lance's foreskin. Lance had not bathed sine fishing earlier in the day. The piquant aroma of unwashed cock wafted up on the sea breeze. "I love the taste of you, the smell of you, the heft in my hands. I love the way you respond to y touch, pulsing and jumping around. I want you to cum for me, Lance. I want to see your cum, feel it shoot from your big dick." He increased the speed of his stroking, gripping tighter and pushing his fist back hard against Lance's groin. With his free hand, he now began twirling Lance's left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth closed on Lance's right nipple, nibbling, almost biting. Lance's cock responded, filling, throbbing. The thick vein on the underside pulsed so hard Neal could feel it throughout his palm.

Neal pounded his fist on Lance as he would himself. Lance leaned back more heavily against him, his knees wobbly with passion. He thrust his hips repeatedly forward to meet Neal's beating fist. Neal was moving his hand very fast now, his motion a blur in the waning light. He felt Lance's explosion begin, like the rumbling before a volcanic eruption. He sucked hard on Lance's right nipple, squeesed the other, increased the speed of his pounding.

Lance's breath came in short gasps; he arched his back strongly. The cum began to ooze from the head of his monstrous cock, then shot out into the florida sunset. The sea breeze blew the shot of cum back onto Neal's hand and Lance's balls and hips and belly. And then the spurts came again, stronger, longer, again! Again! Neal whispered in Lance's ear once again,"Oh yes buddy, that's it. Give it to me. Cum for me. I love it. Oh yes!"

The spurts of cum ended, the after shocks began, continued, slowed, disappeared. Lance's cock deflated. It retained its formidable size, but lost its hardness. Neal hung on to the massive organ, continued nibbling softly on the curve of Lance's neck and shoulder. He whispered murmuring sounds of satisfaction and reassurance, even though his still unfullfilled manhood remained trapped between Lance's cluthching ass cheks. The couple stood watching the sea, swaying gently back and forth. After about ten minutes, Lance, still enclosed from behind in Neal's strong arms, finally spoke, "Shall we see if those potatoes are burnt and have a hunk of charred meat, or do you want to go to bed?"

"Naw, let's eat, then, who knows, maybe I'll have you for dessert, you are the sexiest man I have ever met." They sealed it with a long profound kiss, pulled up their shorts and headed to check the grill. Only then did Neal consider that they had just made love in full view of any neighbor who might have chosen to look. He laughed at his boldness and lack of inhibition, but then, Lance had that effect on him.

They washed their hands and faces. Neal prepared a huge bowl of crisp spinach, with bleu cheese, leftover seafood, fresh tomato, fresh avocado slices, and sweet walla walla onion. In lieu of dressing, he squeezed the juice of a fresh lime over the entire mixture. He placed the bowl on a platter with salt and pepper, fresh unsalted butter, two lime smoothies, plates, knives and forks and spoons, and headed for the lanai.

Lance tossed two 18 ounce club steaks on the grill as if he were in his own house. After only a few minutes the outsides were charred black, while the insides oozed blood.

"Whoo hoo. Let's eat good buddy," Lance called out, at the same instant Neal emerged onto the deck carrying the salad.

They gorged themselves on the feast. Lance in particular was famished after the rigorous exercise of barracuda fishing. He ate as if he were trying to consume all those Minnesota hot dishes that filled his home freezer. At the end, they sat shirtless, face to face. Lance giggled as he held a half-raw piece of meat to Neal's face. Sensing the gist of the game immediately, Neal sunk his teeth into the meat, shook his head, growled like a savage beast, and tore off a chunk, juice running down his chin and onto his chest.

Next it was Lance's turn. He sniffed the piece of meat that Neal held out, rubbed his cheek against it, purred as he licked Neal's hand, then savagely tore off a piece of steak and chawed it noisily.

They repeated the pagan ritual three more times. Their faces and necks and chests were slimy with meat juices. Lance spied a drop of blood hanging from one of Neal's tight wrinkled nipples and captured it with his tongue. Both men were growing increasingly uncomfortable in their confining shorts, their cocks straining for freedom.

Suddenly, Neal was up and running. Before Lance could recover, Neal had dropped his shorts and plunged into the darkening sea. Lance followed, but a moment before he, too, shed his shorts, he was stopped by the beauty that struck him like a wave. The full moon had risen, popped from the sea as it seemed to do in eastern coastal climes. The starless sky was platinum hue, dotted with alabaster clouds. A river of shimmering silver lay across the pewter sea from sand to horizon. In the midst of that glimmering span, Lance stood in silhouette, his fine lean form outlined in black. Even at his distance, his manhood seemed a force to be accepted, a positive acclimation of his own manhood and of all men.

Neal unfastened his shorts, ran three steps and plunged into the sea, scattering sterling droplets in his wake. He swam strongly and expertly, popped above the silent sea to take Lance in his muscled arms. They stood kissing in the midst of that glittering river. Slowly, they began to wash each other with the sparkling eternal waters.

It was Lance, of course that broke the spell. He stroked strongly away and disappeared beneath the ocean. Neal pursued. They swam and played and horsed around, dunking each other and racing.