Chapter Four
Robin’s Thursday was going to hell, and it was all Ryan’s fault.
It had started going downhill when Ryan’s message arrived shortly after ten a.m. Robin had only glanced at the screen, intending to check it out further when he’d finished working on the new gunwale, but Ryan’s cryptic message had intrigued him.
Some research for ya.
Robin should have known better than to look. This was Ryan, after all. Robin thought he’d gotten off lightly when there had been no comeback after their FaceTime conversation of two days before.
Yeah. No hope of that.
What appeared on his phone was a gif showing a naked young man on his knees, his head bobbing as he sucked off an older guy with obvious enthusiasm.
It was kinda mesmerizing for all of five seconds until his dad walked into the room, and Robin hurriedly shoved the phone into his back pocket.
His dad hadn’t noticed, thank God. As soon as Robin was alone once more, he pulled out his phone and stared at the moving image.
The older guy’s cock was an impressive length, but the twink swallowed it with ease. Wow. He’s obviously done that before.
“How’s that new gunwale coming along?” Dad called out.
Back to work.
Half an hour later, another message arrived—another gif.
This time, it was a twink on a bed, his feet high in the air, held apart at the ankles by an older guy who was fucking him—with a very large dick.
Watching that monster spearing the kid over and over again was enough to make Robin’s hole contract. Then he noticed the message.
Do you think Mr. Ski Instructor fucks like this?
This time it was more difficult to put his phone away.
Robin had tried very hard not to think about Mr. Quentin since his appearance at the boatyard Tuesday.
Such thoughts during the day were a distraction, like his phone was proving to be.
Every now and again Robin would think about removing it from his pocket, but then reconsidered.
His dad was never happy when he caught Robin on his phone during the workday.
As lunch drew near, his phone pinged again. Robin took it from his pocket and peered at the screen. There was only one word in the text, Enjoy, followed by a link—and a couple of emojis that needed no explanation. One look at the URL told him it had to be porn.
Robin typed fast. Do I even want to know where you’re finding these? Is there something you want to tell me?
It’s my mission to get my brother laid. Problem with that?
Robin groaned internally. Don’t you have class or something?
A few seconds later, Ryan pinged back. Hey, I’m doing all the legwork here. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy. With tissues.
Robin rolled his eyes. You may not be working, but I am.
Ryan’s reply made him laugh out loud. If I can take time out of my day to find gay porn for my older, sexually repressed twin brother… The things I do for you… The sacrifices… ;-)
Chuckling, Robin replied. Sexually repressed. Big words coming from you. I guess college is good for something, huh?
Fuck you. Now do your homework and watch. Don’t let Dad catch you though. Got lube on you? Aw, pity. Looks like you’ll have to wait.
The next time Robin saw his twin, he was going to kill him.
The door opened, and Dad poked his head around it. “I’m going home for lunch today. Do you want to come too?”
Robin shook his head. “Go spend time with Mom. I’m sure you guys need some alone time.” He grinned. “You know, like you used to do before you had kids.”
Dad arched his eyebrows at that, but chuckled. “I’ll put up the Out for Lunch sign. I’ll be back in an hour.” Then he was gone.
Robin waited until he heard the main door close, then whipped out his phone. He glanced at the oil he’d used on the gunwale, then dismissed it. No way was he going to put that anywhere near his dick. It would have to be good old-fashioned spit.
He sat on the stool, popped the button on his jeans, lowered the zip, and fished out his cock, his heartbeat quickening. This was something new. He clicked on the link, then hurriedly turned down the volume. No point in attracting attention, should anyone happen to be walking past the boatyard.
And that means I can’t make any noises either.
He gazed at the screen, his breathing becoming shallow as he watched the scene unfold. His first thought was that Ryan had gone to a lot of trouble. This was no random link he’d sent.
There was a plot, for one thing. A teenager was visiting the home of a hot older man, making stupid excuses for his presence there.
The older guy saw right through him, however, and they ended up fucking on the guy’s pool table.
Robin’s gaze was glued to the screen, breathless as he watched the guy plow the twink’s ass, his cheeks hollowing as he thrust deep into the young man’s hole.
Robin knew he had an hour, but that didn’t stop him from speeding up his hand.
There was no way he wanted to be doing this when his dad got back.
But fuck, it was awesome. Wicked. Hot as hell.
Thirty minutes later, he’d watched it three times, and shot his load twice. It had to be the best lunchtime ever, even if he spent the remainder of the time cleaning up and spraying the air to remove the smell of cum.
Okay, maybe I won’t kill Ryan after all. Looks like he has his uses.
There had to be some psychic connection between twins, because right then Ryan messaged him.
Had your lunch yet? Remember you need to eat too. You gotta keep up your strength. LMAO
Robin wasn’t stupid. He knew porn wasn’t real. But the scene had sown the glimmer of an idea. Maybe Ryan’s suggestion wasn’t so dumb after all. Could I do it? Because Ryan had been right about one thing—Robin was most definitely sexually repressed.
The only thing was this could go one of two ways. Mr. Quentin would either kick his butt and tell his dad, or it could end up being Robin’s luckiest day ever.
Dean opened his front door and knew instantly there was trouble. Lady was sitting in the middle of the hallway, looking for all the world as if she was waiting for him.
“Hey, cutie.” Dean put his bag down on the chair, then crouched to stroke her. “How long have you been sitting there, waiting for me?” He scootched her under her chin, and she purred, rubbing her head against his knee. “You miss me?”
A pitiful yowl came from the bathroom.
Oh God. Tigger. Dean had figured the safest place to leave him was in the bathroom.
Lady gave all the signs that she didn’t mind the newcomer, but he wasn’t about to leave that to chance while he was at work all day.
Maybe in a few weeks they could revisit the idea after he’d had the chance to watch the two of them together.
He opened the bathroom door and froze. “Oh my God.” The basket of cat toys sat untouched, but the rest of the bathroom wasn’t nearly as lucky.
How much havoc can one small kitten wreak?
The shower curtain was no longer hanging over the tub, but was lying on the floor in shreds, the hoops that had secured it to the rail lying with it.
The rail was down too, hanging from only one end.
“What did that poor curtain ever do to you?” And where was the little monster?
Near the toilet, the tiled floor was decorated with shredded toilet paper, the roll on its holder, empty.
The bottles of shampoo and bodywash he’d left around the side of the tub were now on the floor, and the contents of both had created a sticky mess.
On the sink, his toothbrush was no longer visible.
God knew where the little bastard had hidden it.
Lady sat regally at the threshold, and Dean glared at her. “You’re senior kitty. Why didn’t you do something?”
Lady stared back at him, and he could almost hear the words. He was in the bathroom, asshole. You wanna wait while I grow opposable thumbs?
Dean snorted. “Well, I’m sure as hell not gonna accept responsibility for this.” He shook his head. “Look at me. I’m having a conversation with my cat.”
At this point, Tigger poked his head up above the edge of the tub, and a plaintive meow filled the air.
Dean walked over and picked him up. He lifted him into the air, looking into the little kitten’s face.
“You got stuck, didn’t you?” Tigger’s response was yet more plaintive meows.
He sighed. “I sure got your name wrong, didn’t I?
You’re not a Tigger. Loki it is then.” He gazed at the chaotic scene around him.
“Great. I need a new shower curtain.” Then he spied the bathmat—or what was left of it—and sighed again.
“Looks like I’ve got some shopping to do. ”
Lady walked off, her tail high, as if to say, Ain’t nothing to do with me.
Dean followed her, walking into the kitchen.
He deposited Loki in the cat bed, then put out some kitten food for him.
While Loki focused his attention on his food bowl, Dean fed Lady.
He glared at the kitten again. “If I go and clean up the bathroom, can I trust you not to steal Lady’s food and piss her off? ”
Because in that battle, Loki would definitely come off worse.
Robin helped himself to more mac and cheese. “This is great, Mom.” Coming home to his favorite meal made the day pretty much perfect.
She laughed. “You love your comfort food, like your dad.”
“Are you okay, Robin?” Dad asked.
Robin jerked his head up. “Why do you ask?”
“You seemed kind of jittery today.”
The blame for all that lay solidly with Ryan. “I’m fine.” Well, he was as long as Ryan didn’t decide to send another gif, or, God help him, another link to gay porn.
Mom cleared her throat. “Is there anything you want to talk to us about?”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe there’s someone you’re interested in…”
Robin did not want to be having this conversation. “Mom…”
Dad coughed. “Be fair, Pet. You’re asking an eighteen-year-old to divulge his secrets. You really expect him to answer? Did you ever ask Ryan who he was interested in?”
Mom chuckled. “I used to, but I gave up. Let’s face it, he went through girlfriends like Robin goes through hand lotion.” She gave Robin a sideways glance. “You must have the softest hands in Lake Placid.”
Dad’s brows knitted. “Hand lotion?” He gave Robin a puzzled glance. “Why would you need all that—oh.” His mouth snapped shut, but there was a sympathetic look in his eyes.
Robin raised his eyes heavenward. Kill me now? Please, anybody? He put his fork down and pushed his plate away. “You know what? I think I’ve had enough. In fact, I think I’ve eaten too much. I’m gonna go for a bike ride to work it all off.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “Now? It’s seven-thirty. It’s dark out there.”
Before Robin could respond, his dad intervened. “He’s got lights on his bike. He’s got his reflective jacket. He’ll be fine.”
Robin saw the gesture for what it was—helping a fellow male out of a tricky situation—and gave his dad a grateful glance. “I won’t be gone long. Maybe an hour.”
Mom nodded. “Be careful.” As he got up from the table, she added, “By the way, I’ve put a new box of Kleenex tissues in your room. You’ve almost finished the present one.” Her lips twitched.
Oh my God. Are all moms like this? “Thanks,” he muttered as he left the table.
He went to his room to grab a jacket. As an afterthought, he grabbed a wool hat as well. It was cold out there.
As he cycled away from the house, the front bike light spilling over the street, it occurred to him that he had a destination in mind.
He rode down Mill Pond Drive, heading north towards Acorn Street.
The streets were quiet, fresh snow falling over the cars and sidewalks.
It took him about ten minutes to reach his destination.
He peered at the mailboxes, searching for number thirty-four.
When he found it, he stared at the white-fronted house with the arch over the door, lit by lights placed here and there illuminating the flowerbeds in front of it.
This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea.
It didn’t stop him, however, from getting off his bike and walking it toward the door. The lights were on inside, so Mr. Quentin was obviously home. In fact, Robin could hear music. He stood for a moment in the warm light that fell from the window.
So Mr. Quentin likes rock? Robin could feel the bass pounding from where he stood.
There’s still time to walk away. This is Ryan’s dumb idea anyway. Leave. Leave now. Then his heart stuttered as Mr. Quentin appeared in the window, gazing at him in obvious surprise.
Aw crap.
The music ended, and seconds later the front door opened. Mr. Quentin stood there, dressed in jeans and a thick white sweater that look great against his tanned face. “Robin? Why on earth are you standing outside my house? Come to think of it, how do you know where I live?”
Robin shivered, not entirely the result of the cold night air.
“I think you’d better answer that question in here,” Mr. Quentin said quickly. “It’s freezing out there. Come on in, and I’ll make us a hot drink. You can leave your bike out here. It’ll be safe.” He smiled. “I have good neighbors.”
Robin wheeled his bike up to the house, and leaned it against the exterior. His heart pounding, he walked over to the door, pausing at the threshold.
What the fuck am I doing here?
It was way too late for that.
Mr. Quentin stood aside and gestured for Robin to enter. As he stepped into the warm hallway, Robin sent up a brief prayer.
Please don’t let him kick my butt.