Chapter 9 Naked Under Stars #2
We reached the point where if we stayed any longer, we’d turn into prunes.
We continued to trade, “We should probably get out,” and “Damn, I’m cold.
” But neither of us moved toward the lantern.
I had been made a convert. While I was not initially thrilled with the company, having Nick here made it new.
The roles had changed. Me, the sagely guide, and Nick, the kid unsure about Mother Nature.
With each experience, I came closer to understanding why Pops insisted on dragging me along.
“Thanks,” he said as he ran his hands through the small waterfall.
“For?” As much as I hated to see it end, it was time to dry off by the fire.
“Clashing.” He followed me along the rocks. “This is the opposite of my last visit to Firefly.”
I shivered as I stood on the rocks. What should have been a cool breeze sent a shiver down my spine.
I spun about, reaching down, offering Nick a hand.
Pulling him up, we collided, dangly bits smushed together.
They dangled less by the second. If I were being polite, I’d have excused myself and pulled away.
If he could seize a moment for a kiss, then I could—
I leaned forward, our bellies pressed together—
“Whoa!” His arms flailed as he slid back, ready to tumble back into the water. I threw an arm around his waist. Instead of pulling him closer, I dipped down and, with a grunt, lifted him onto my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” He didn’t resist.
“Can… you… get… that?”
I lowered to one knee next to the flashlight.
Nick wiggled as he snatched it. I strained getting back to my feet.
I had overestimated my strength. A thin man, I could spin him around like a baton.
Nick had some meat on his bones… thick, beautiful meat.
If I looked to my left, I’m sure I’d have seen that meat dancing in the open air.
“What about our clothes?”
I grunted as I stepped off the rock onto dried pine needles.
We were nudists now. I imagined a squirrel running off with my briefs or a deer wearing his jeans.
I chuckled at the thought. What started out like any other camping trip had suddenly transitioned into something a bit more intimate.
Of all the men I had seen naked, never did I consider carrying them through the woods in the buff.
Perhaps they’d have understood the magic of sleeping under the stars.
Most would have turned around at the tree line and walked back to a four-star hotel.
“What if somebody—”
“Fuck ‘em. They can watch.”
Would they have seen two naked men pretending to tap into their primal roots? Or would they have seen two men getting dangerously close to—
Pain shot through my calf. “Cramp.” I bent over, dropping Nick onto his feet.
I stretched my leg out, trying to fight off the tightening muscle.
If people were watching, they’d have front-row seats to the absolute worst seduction in the history of mankind.
For all the alluring things I could have said, all I could come up with was, “Balls!”
The muscle relaxed. When I stood, Nick shook his head.
“Serves you right. What are you? A neanderthal?”
I gave him a grunt and snarl. “Fire.” I pointed. “Food.” I rubbed my belly.
“You’re really relying on being cute, huh?”
Nick sat down on the sleeping bag. He kept a firm upper lip, but the chill of the air had him shivering.
My opinion of him had shifted. Nick could have complained every step of the way.
Between the bugs, the sweaty hiking, freezing water—wow.
When I listed it out, I couldn’t fathom why anybody thought of this as a good time.
Yet here he was, naked and wet, and for the first time since meeting, he seemed content.
I grabbed a log and set it on the fire. Poking at the coals with a stick, the flame returned. I stood by, ready to stoke it again. The least I could do for the guy was keep him warm.
“You’re not the asshole you pretend to be.”
He dropped assertions as if he had me figured out.
Mum would occasionally say the same thing.
Except when she said it, I took it as my shields had lowered.
In Firefly, I didn’t want anybody to get in.
The less they saw, the more they’d speculate, but it’d be about superficial things I didn’t care about.
Nick said it like a revelation.
The flames flickered against the new log, eating away at the bark.
The renewed fire felt good against my thighs.
I backed up before taking a seat next to Nick, careful not to make contact.
It was one thing in jest to lug him through the woods, but as the silence crept in, the danger of intimacy returned.
“I’m not?”
He crossed his legs while shaking his head. “Not if you know where to look.” Looking up, I followed his line of sight to the socks still dangling above the campsite. I ran my hand across my beard, trying to hide the heat building in my cheeks.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded.
“Why the tattoos?” His finger pointed at a mechanical serpent snaking around my calf, its head resting just above the knee.
The black-and-white tattoo had been a gift from Sammy for my birthday.
The hints of red radiating from behind, along with streaks through its underbelly, made it my first polka trash tat.
“They tell a story.” He didn’t ask a follow-up.
After a moment of silence, I grumbled. “Sammy went to Germany with his girlfriend and toured the shops there. When he got back, he was dying to tattoo somebody with it. Telling your clients about ‘trash polka’ is a hard sell, especially when he hadn’t done any before. So, I let him.”
“What’s it mean?”
I bit my lip as his finger traced the red streak cutting through the dark black of the dragon’s hand.
To explain that, I needed to go back to the beginning.
I could have gotten alpha and omega anywhere, but instead, I let the artist put the first ink along my neck.
I spent my childhood feeling like an outsider.
No friends. No connections. Other than my parents, I could have walked away from Firefly without a second thought.
The first tattoo served as the first step toward breaking out of their box.
“Some of them have literal meanings.” The dragon was a gorgeous piece of artwork I showed the world every time I wore shorts.
“Most of them are time capsules, little reminders about who I was.” Even the bad ones, and there were a few of them hidden on my calf and back, told a story of a wild night sitting in the chair. “Want me to give you one?”
His head cocked to the side as he studied me. “Give?”
I replayed our conversations. Angst. Silence. Kiss. Skinny dipping. Despite all the things we covered, we skipped the mundane small talk. Nick followed me into the woods and now sat naked with me as we warmed by the fire… and he didn’t even know what I did for work.
I chuckled.
The confusion on his face made it even funnier. “What am I missing?”
I held my hand out. “Hi. I’m Charles Sanford. Everybody calls me Charlie.”
I caught the slight upturn of his lip and more than a little lift of the eyebrow. “Nicholas Johnson. Nick for short.”
We shook.
He pulled himself forward, a fraction of a second before I did. Our lips touched. Hand caressing his cheek, I couldn’t think of a better way to end the evening. The coconut had vanished, replaced by earth and campfire smoke. Tongues clashed while he slid to the side, throwing a leg over my lap.
Cocks touched.
His fingers grazed my neck while our lips engaged in gentle warfare. With a shift of his hips, there was no doubt in my mind that he enjoyed himself. The night could end with him bent over a log, me buried inside him as I came. It’d be worthy of porn.
I hesitated.
I wanted to touch him. Hell, I wanted to fuck him. I also wanted to hold onto this moment, the one where we existed without complications. Since he crossed into the forest, Nick walked as if the weight of the world hadn’t followed. I didn’t want to add to that weight. Not yet.
It had nothing to do with my fear of connecting with people while everything in life descended into chaos. Was my affection for this handsome man genuine? Or was I flailing, desperate for a lifeline? I didn’t want to make a misstep and become the reason sadness crept into his eyes.
I pulled away. Backlit by the fire, I couldn’t see his eyes, but I remembered them. Baby blues, almost the color of tropical waters.
“I didn’t mean to—”
I put a finger over his lips. My hand slid to his cheek, my thumb caressing his lip.
“Come here.” Grabbing him by the shoulder, I pulled him about so he fit into the crook of my arm. I pulled him tight, his head resting on my chest. “We’ve got time for that.” My cock, still pointing toward the stars, didn’t agree with the decision.
He bit his lip, still worried he had made the wrong decision.
Pressing our foreheads together, I kissed the tip of his nose.
Sliding to my side, he fit perfectly into the crook of my arm, head resting on my chest. His arm rested on my belly, fingers gliding through the hair obscuring a skeleton with a sword.
Without saying a word, we reached an agreement. This was enough… for now.
I kissed the top of his head and squeezed until he couldn’t get any closer. His finger moved from the skeleton to a shield held by a Valkyrie. I had lost count of the numerous warriors in armor decorating my body.
Even I could see the symbolism.
I hid behind the tattoos, letting them speak for me with every encounter.
If I wore a tank top and walked through downtown, residents crossed the street to avoid me.
I was surprised they hadn’t called the sheriff yet.
It was easier to think of them as defenses against a cruel world and not weapons used to keep people at arm’s length.
“I work in a tattoo shop. Always been good at art. They welcome folks with a checkered past.” I focused on the fire; the flames consumed the newest log.
I always thought of the tattoo shop as this bastion of self-expression.
We all had stories that forced us into our profession, some traumatic, others filled with laughter.
I mourned the camaraderie we created. Never had I felt judged by Sammy, Malcom, or Devon.
I could say the same about the fire. In the woods, the only judgment came from myself.
Had that been Pops’s reason for dragging me out here?
My free hand rested on my chest, fingers tapping the compass in time with my heartbeat.
Slow. Fast. Fast. Thinking that Pops saw me disengaging from the world, and trying his best to offer me a sanctuary… my heart ached.
It reminded me of a comment Nick had said. Did we share a guilt that brought us back to Firefly? “What did you mean by curse?”
“Just bad luck,” he mumbled. A well-rehearsed brush off. I could have written the playbook on dodging uncomfortable conversations. I didn’t believe in curses, but he did. That made it real.
We sat in silence for a while before I glanced over to see his head tipped back, eyes closed. He snorted before his weight settled against my shoulder. Here, the woods felt less like an escape and more like a promise.
I got comfortable, ready for some shut-eye. I’d never admit it out loud, but sitting there naked in the middle of nowhere, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be. Maybe even with who I was meant to be with.