CHAPTER 17
Jesse
Darnell didn’t give himself enough credit a few days ago on the upper deck. His hands are just as magical as Walt’s. Sitting on the edge of their bed, I stare numbly at their TV as Walt mixes us another round of drinks on the desk by the couch. They’ve got one of the fancy cabins too, but it doesn’t feel like there’s enough room in here to breathe properly since my row with Murph.
The ship rocks violently again, making me tense. I probably shouldn’t be watching Gilligan’s Island during a storm on a cruise ship, but I’m a guest, so I don’t think I have a right to complain about which station they chose. Darnell steadies me, clasping a hand on each of my shoulders.
“It’s alright. Just a little choppy out there,” he soothes. “Walt and I have seen worse storms than this. Haven’t we?”
“Oh, yeah. Remember that trip we took to Havana?”
“How could I forget? We were stuck in the harbor for five days.”
“See? Nothing to be worried about. Just relax,” Darnell assures me, going to work on the knots in my shoulders.
I don’t think any number of magic hands, games of chess, or comforting words from the grandpas is going to cure the ache in my chest. Why can’t I do anything right by Murph? He’s always mad at me.
I don’t get it. First, he’s being all patient and humoring my confession about being curious about D-town and the next thing, he’s kicking me out, telling me I’m annoying. Thank goodness he didn’t know what was running through my head during that dildo bj session.
I know he kept speaking in third-person terms during his coaching—‘The guy will let you know what he likes’—but all I could think about was wondering what he likes. All I could focus on was the warmth radiating off his crotch, his hard cock brushing against my face, and the feel of his tuft underneath his boxer briefs. It was… potent. I barely made it out of there alive. I pinched my dick so hard to avoid coming that I probably have fingerprints embedded in it now.
I am such a perv. Who lusts about their best friend while said friend is being kind enough to show you the ropes? He’s just so familiar. I trust him, and Murph’s not a bad-looking guy. I’m only human.
“Here you go. That should help settle your nerves,” Walt says, handing me a cocktail he fashioned from their stash and ice bucket. It even has one of the cute little man stripper straws in it from the show last night. He’s so thoughtful and accommodating.
“Thanks.” I take the glass from his hand, but don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t think my stomach can handle liquor right now.
I came here to see if they had any motion sickness medicine. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to mix alcohol with that—seems like it would kind of defeat the purpose.
“Now, let’s see if we can get you loosened up,” he adds, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of me.
Smiling up at me, he slides his palms over the bare skin above my knees. Massaging little circles with his fingertips, I tense when they swipe underneath the legs of my shorts.
“Um, I… I think Darnell’s working on that already,” I let out on an anxious laugh.
Leaning closer, Darnell’s chest presses against my back and his hands slide down my arms. The whiskers on his chin brush the shell of my ear and he purrs, “But we do everything together,” he reassures me.
At least, I think he meant to sound reassuring. It feels like anything but that as Walt’s hands slide further up my short legs, kneading the muscles in my thighs.
Swallowing, I try to tell myself it’s just the sea sickness that has my stomach flipping. I kind of feel like the filling of a donut, or rather like a slice of beef suspended between two hungry old wolves, as Walt’s eyes twinkle at me.
Oh, God. I’m in a sandwich—a Jesse sandwich!