Chapter 9
Yuji crossed to the bathroom and pulled the door half-shut behind him. The fluorescent above the mirror buzzed on, white light flat across tile veined with mineral stains.
He pulled the elastic from his hair and it fell past his jaw, stiff with salt. Sun shirt first, peeling where dried sweat had glued the fabric to his shoulders. Undershirt. Belt. Cargo pants pooling around his ankles, then boxers, the pile accumulating on the bathmat.
He leaned past the curtain and turned the tap.
The showerhead sputtered twice before water came through—cold at first, warming until steam curled off the spray.
He stepped in and heat ran down his sternum and stomach to his thighs, sand loosening from the creases of his neck and running in tan streams between his feet.
Dried cum softened on his stomach and in the hair below his navel and washed clear—residue from the truck, Stroud’s hand, his own.
Grit let go in stages, behind his ears, along the backs of his knees, sulfur rising in the steam.
He set his forehead against the tile and let his hands hang at his sides.
The dust wall closing across the basin. Stroud’s mouth opening under his. The spray filled his ears and the day went soft at the edges, then went entirely, and there was nothing but heat and the tile against his forehead and the water on his back.
A hand pressed flat against his lower back.
Yuji flinched. The hand stayed—broad and warm against his skin while his heart kicked once and settled. He turned his head.
Stroud stood behind him in the spray, naked.
Water ran off his shoulders and down the hard plane of his chest, catching in the groove between his pectorals before sheeting over his stomach.
The body hair below his navel had darkened and flattened, trailing in a heavy line to his cock, which was already thickening.
His thighs were thick with muscle, his quads defined even at rest as water tracked down their contours.
The stall was tight, barely a hand’s width between them at the shoulders. Up close, Yuji could see the dust still caught in the creases of Stroud’s neck, sand clinging to his temples and matted in his chest hair.
The bar of Ivory sat on the recessed tray, worn to a curve. Yuji took it.
“Turn around. I got you.”
Stroud turned.
The back Yuji had registered from a couch in lamplight was different under water—the sharp tan line at the sleeve softened in the steam, sand still collected in the small of his back and the dip above his glutes.
He worked the bar between his hands until the lather built, thin from the hard water, and set both palms flat to Stroud’s shoulder blades.
Dense muscle beneath his hands, giving a fraction beneath his weight.
He drew the soap down and out along the lats, thumbs working the knots flanking the spine until Stroud’s chin dropped and a breath left him.
Down over the small of his back, palms slowing where the muscle curved into his glutes.
His fingers traced the crease between them, letting the pad of one finger drag across the rim.
Stroud locked up. A groan, low and unguarded. His stance widened.
Yuji traced the rim with his fingertip, working the tight muscle in slow circles, and Stroud’s cock jerked against his belly with each pass.
Yuji pressed his finger against the hole—steady pressure, the tight ring giving a fraction before he eased off.
Stroud froze, his body caught between retreat and surrender.
“Not there. Not yet.”
Yuji stepped in, chest against Stroud’s back, and reached around—one hand sliding up Stroud’s ribs, thumb grazing his nipple, the other dropping to his hip.
His own cock pressed half-hard against the curve of Stroud’s ass.
Then the hand at his hip came up, and he rolled both nipples between thumb and forefinger, Stroud’s hands flattening wider on the tile, fingers spread.
“Fuck. Yuji?—”
His teeth grazed the ridge of Stroud’s shoulder. A shudder ran through the muscle beneath his mouth, and Yuji handed the soap forward over Stroud’s shoulder.
Stroud took it and faced him, water running off his face.
“Your turn.”
Yuji braced his forearms on the tile. Water drummed between his shoulder blades while Stroud’s hands found him—a different rhythm now, less methodical. His thumbs dug into the knots, then his broad palms traveled down Yuji’s back until they closed around his hips.
“How’s that?”
“Good. Don’t stop.”
Stroud’s hands slid over his ass, gripping and kneading before moving beneath it. His thumbs hooked the insides of Yuji’s thighs and spread them. Yuji felt himself stiffening.
Stroud moved in closer, his cock pressing hard against the cleft of Yuji’s ass. One hand slid up to grip Yuji’s hip, the other moving around to the front. Hot breath hit the wet skin below Yuji’s ear, and his cock twitched.
Then the hand wrapped around his cock. Yuji’s head dropped back against Stroud’s shoulder. Stroud stroked him slow—once, twice, thumb circling the head on the third pass.
“I want to fuck you.” His mouth at Yuji’s ear. “That okay?”
Yuji’s hand found Stroud’s wrist behind him and held it. “Yeah.”
Stroud reached for the conditioner on the soap dish. Cap clicked. Wet fingers slid between Yuji’s cheeks and found his hole, pressing against the tight ring.
The first finger slid in slow, working him open with deliberate patience. A second finger joined the first, scissoring gently, stretching. Stroud’s other hand gripped Yuji’s hip, steadying him against the tile.
Yuji tensed around the fingers, and Stroud stopped.
Waited. When Yuji exhaled, Stroud’s fingers pushed deeper, crooked forward—and pressed against something that made Yuji’s hips jerk.
Stroud paused, then did it again. Yuji groaned into his forearm.
Stroud kept working that spot, adjusting until each press drew another groan.
“Ready?”
“Fuck—yes.”
Stroud’s fingers withdrew. The cap again, Stroud stroking conditioner over his cock.
Water drummed against Stroud’s back, spraying off his shoulders onto Yuji’s skin.
Then the blunt head of Stroud’s cock pressing against him.
Stroud pushed in slow, one hand flat on Yuji’s lower back, the other gripping his hip.
Inch by inch, letting Yuji adjust, until his hips were flush against Yuji’s ass, coarse hair pressing against skin.
Stroud held there. Yuji’s cheek against the wet tile, breath shallow. Stroud thick inside him, stretching, filling.
Stroud pulled back and thrust in again. His hips set a rhythm—deliberate, controlled—and Yuji braced against the wall.
“God.” His hips slowed. “You feel incredible.”
Stroud’s cock dragged across his prostate with every stroke. Yuji arched his back, and Stroud grunted and picked up the pace.
Harder now. Hips slapping against Yuji’s ass, rapid and sharp. Stroud’s fingers dug into the meat of his hip, anchoring him. Yuji pushed back to meet each thrust.
“Wait.” Stroud pulled out. “Turn around.”
Yuji turned. Stroud lifted him—hands under his thighs—and pinned him to the wall. Yuji wrapped his legs around Stroud’s waist, arms around his neck, heels digging into the small of his back.
Stroud shifted his grip under Yuji’s thighs, tilted his hips, and pushed back in.
The angle was different—deeper, the head of his cock dragging hard against Yuji’s prostate.
Yuji’s head fell back, and Stroud’s mouth found his throat, teeth grazing the tendon, tongue tracing up to his jaw.
Yuji pulled him into a kiss—open-mouthed, tongues sliding together, water running between their lips.
Stroud fucked him against the wall like that, holding him up, muscles burning. Each thrust drove a grunt out of Yuji—his cock trapped between their bellies, slick with water and precum, sliding against Stroud’s stomach.
Stroud adjusted his angle, and Yuji’s whole body jerked. Every thrust now hitting his prostate, relentless. He was leaking, untouched, his balls tightening.
“Stroud—I’m gonna?—”
Stroud fucked him harder, Yuji’s back sliding against the wet tile. His mouth found Yuji’s ear. “Yeah, come for me.”
The orgasm hit without warning—deep, wrenching. Yuji’s mouth opened but nothing came out, just a ragged sound that bounced off the tile. His cock jerked between them, cum pulsing in thick ropes across Stroud’s stomach, his ass clenching tight around Stroud’s cock.
Stroud groaned—low, guttural—and his hips stuttered, thrusts going shallow and erratic before he slammed deep and held.
His whole body went rigid, grip tightening under Yuji’s thighs, fingers digging into the muscle.
Yuji felt him pulse inside—once, twice, a third time—Stroud’s cock twitching with each release.
Stroud’s face stayed buried in his neck, breath coming in sharp bursts against his skin.
They stayed pinned together, Stroud’s arms shaking. Stroud eased out of him, and Yuji’s legs slid down, feet finding the tub floor.
Stroud braced one hand on the wall. His forehead dropped to Yuji’s shoulder.
“How long have you been thinking about fucking me?”
Stroud laughed, breath warm against Yuji’s skin. “A while.”
Stroud reached past him and shut off the water. The sudden silence was loud. He pulled back the curtain and grabbed a towel from the rack—faded green, worn thin—and wrapped it around Yuji’s shoulders. Then a second for himself, knotted at his waist.
Yuji turned to face him. Stroud pushed a wet strand back from his face, and Yuji tilted his cheek into Stroud’s palm, eyes closing. Stroud’s thumb traced his cheekbone once, then dropped.
“Come on.”
Stroud stepped out and offered his hand.
Yuji followed him into the main room, leaving wet footprints on the linoleum. He found his pack by the door, pulled out clean boxers. Stroud grabbed a pair from his dresser. They dressed in silence.
“You hungry?”
“Not really.” Yuji sat on the edge of the bed. “Maybe in the morning.”
Stroud pulled back the sheets. The bed was narrow—they’d have to sleep close. Yuji climbed in first, back against the wall, and Stroud followed, settling onto his side facing Yuji.
For a moment they just looked at each other. Stroud’s hand found Yuji’s hip, rested there.
“What happens when the survey’s done?”
Yuji didn’t answer right away. Stroud’s thumb traced a slow line along his hipbone.
“I’ve got an apartment in Oakland. A consulting gig I keep putting off.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.” Yuji shifted closer, pressing his forehead to Stroud’s collarbone. “I don’t have one yet.”
Stroud’s arm came around him, heavy and warm. “Doesn’t have to be tonight.”
Yuji closed his eyes. His legs still ached from being held up, his ass tender. Sleep pulled him under before he could think of anything else to say.
Outside, the Funeral Mountains cut their black edge against a sky dense with stars.
The Milky Way arced over the valley, bright enough to cast faint shadows on the salt flats below.
No wind. No sound but the cooling earth ticking as it shed the day’s heat.
Desert in every direction, and in one small cabin at the center of it, two men holding each other in the dark.