Boys Will Be Boys - Their First Time (7 page)

He got out of the car
,
and I felt privileged that he would do such a thing. Walking toward my car, my sanctuary, he called out,
“
Stop!
”
I turned to look at him palming and playing with some shiny object, making it dance along his fingers like a poker chip. He winked at me as he flipped it through the air. Instinctively
,
I reached up and caught it midair. Looking at this prize
,
I realized it wasn
’
t a coin at all but another silver chain link, a perfect partner to the one I found last night. Looking back up, he was already in his car and had started his engine
.
H
e didn
’
t even look at me as he drove away. I took my former treasure out of my pocket where it had been stashed and linked the two prizes together. I knew in my heart what they symbolized. I was bewitched, bothered and bewildered. This was how it was that I entered his world.

271

Mickey Erlach

“
Hey, Paul, will you photograph me?
”

Paul froze. He clutched his towel and stopped in mid-rub of his wet hair. The room filled with silence, the only sound, the evening spring rain that pelted the living room window. Slowly, he lowered the towel, turned, and looked at Carlo.

Large brown eyes watched him from under a thick fringe of ebony lashes. Carlo had already toweled the rain off his own thick glossy hair and the raven-colored locks tumbled around his face, set off his high cheekbones. His smooth black goatee and mustache emphasized his full lips. Paul had spent countless moments fantasizing about kissing those lips.

Paul
’
s heart thumped. Carlo
’
s beauty always struck him
,
and in the whole three years of their friendship, he
’
d ached to capture that beauty on film.
“
Are you serious?
”

What appeared fleeting shyness passed across Carlo
’
s face, quickly replaced by his usual coolness.
“
Yeah, man. I
’
m serious.
”

Paul nodded. His heart pumped in rapid beats now
,
and his cock stirred and jumped to attention in his jeans. He set the towel aside and cleared his throat.
“
Okay, then. If you want me to.
”
He forced himself to act casual, far from the emotional chaos that churned his blood. In three years as housemates, Carlo had never expressed interest in getting photographed, not even in his soccer uniform or at his garage where he designed and built the hottest choppers in their part of
California
.
“
May I
…
uh
…
I mean, I
’
m just curious
…
”

Carlo
’
s soft laughter interrupted him.
“
I know. You can
’
t believe it.
”
He shrugged and looked down.
“
I don
’
t know, man. Just like this.
”

Paul stared at him another moment. Carlo was holding something back. But hey, he wasn
’
t going to push. Carlo
’
s asking to be photographed was a fantasy come true, as rare as Halley
’
s comet.

“
Well…
”
h
e gestured in the direction of his studio, really, a spare bedroom in the back of his house he
’
d converted into a studio.
“
This way.
”
He led Carlo there.

“
Should I change or something?
”

Paul turned around and looked at him. The rain had soaked Carlo
’
s white
T-shirt
and plastered it to his lean torso. Carlo
’
s skin, the color of light caramel, showed through the wet cotton as did the tiny peaks of his dark nipples, hardened, apparently, from the coolness of rain. Below that, he wore a baggy pair of jeans.

He cleared his throat again. Aside from nudity, Carlo couldn
’
t have looked sexier for the kind of photographs Paul envisioned.
“
No. You
’
re
…
perfect.
”

A shudder of electricity seemed to pass between them. Carlo blinked.
“
Okay. Just tell me what to do.
”

Take your clothes off and let me suck your cock.
Paul didn
’
t say the words out loud. He wouldn
’
t dare. Carlo had never given him any indication that Paul
’
s wild attraction to him was mutual. If Carlo had wanted him, he would have included him in the string of lovers that had passed through their apartment over the last three years.

Paul swallowed hard.
“
Um, just
…
I don
’
t know. I guess
…
”
His hands shook as he adjusted his camera, already set up on its tripod from a job the day before.
“
Start with something natural.
”
He indicated the sofa draped with sheets he
’
d set up for yesterday
’
s photo shoot for
Gay Life
M
agazine
. That had been a joy to shoot. Three gorgeous guys in underwear draped all over each other.

But today? Was better.

Carlo sat down on the sofa and leaned against the cushions, one muscled arm along the back of the sofa. He looked up from under his heavy lashes, lips pouting.
“
How
’
s this?
”

Paul
’
s heart jumped. Electric heat zinged up his arms and down into his groin. Carlo looked
incredible. In that pose, he was sexy, alluring and innocent all at once.
“
Perfect,
”
he said softly. He adjusted his camera, set the lighting in the room and shot the picture.

“
Should I do another pose?
”
Carlo sat up and raked a hand through his thick ebony hair. Inadvertently
,
he looked off to one side. Perfect. That pose, too, brought out Carlo
’
s irresistible combination of dark sensuality and innocence.

“
Stay like that,
”
he ordered. Carlo obeyed
,
and he shot the picture.

Carlo turned and smiled.
“
This is kind of fun,
”
he said. He draped his arms over his thighs and leaned forward.

Paul shot another picture.
“
You seem to be a natural.
”

“
Nah
,
”
Carlo lay back, one arm bent behind his head. His
T-shirt
rode up just enough to expose half of his tight abdomen.
“
You
’
re a good photographer, man.
”

A shiver of lust tore through Paul. He forced his attention off the thin trail of ebony hair that ran down the center of Carlo
’
s stomach and onto shooting the picture.
“
Thanks,
”
he managed to say. Carlo had often praised his work
,
and he felt ridiculously pleased each time. He
’
d won several awards for his photos in the past three years and attributed his success to the fact that he worked so hard to please Carlo.

The thought made him ache to confess the raw emotions he felt for his housemate. He remained silent and kept snapping pictures. His tension melted away as he got into the flow of taking pictures. Carlo moved from one pose to the next, as if he
’
d been a model for years.

Suddenly, Carlo sat up and stripped off his
T-shirt
. He dropped it
on
to the floor and looked directly at the camera, his hands on his thighs.

Paul
’
s finger froze on the button. He cleared his throat. His heart took off like a bucking bronc
,
and his stomach fluttered
just as
it did when he had his first crush back in high school.

“
Is this okay?
”
Carlo looked worried.
“
Should I put it back on?
”

“
No!
”

Carlo grinned and chuckled.
“
Okay.
”
He lay against the cushions, both strong arms along the back of the sofa.

Paul stared through the eyepiece. He pretended to be adjusting the focus when he was really staring at Carlo
’
s rippling chest and abs, at the soft dark hair on his pecs funneling into a trail down his stomach and at the chocolate brown of his small hard nipples. Paul
’
s mouth watered
,
and now he had a major hard-on in his jeans. Who
’
d have thought that a pizza out with Carlo and running back home in the rain would end up like this? He shot the picture.

Carlo lifted one arm from the back of the sofa and ran his hand over his chest.

Paul licked his lips. Was the guy making fun of him, teasing him? His eyes widened as he looked through the viewer. He could swear there was a sizeable bulge in Carlo
’
s jeans, just behind the zipper. Was he hard?

Carlo slid his hand down his abdomen. Right down toward that delicious-looking bulge. He stared into the lens. Carlo
’
s dark brown eyes took on a velvety sheen. His lids grew heavy
,
and his full lips parted, as if he were breathing heavier.

Paul shot the picture. Damn, he couldn
’
t wait to develop that one.

“
Hey Paul?
”

The husky tone in Carlo
’
s voice made his heart thump. He swallowed hard and looked out from behind the camera.
“
Yeah?
”
He forced himself to look and sound calm. No easy task considering the raging boner he had. To him, Carlo was the hottest guy in the universe. Hotter than any movie star.

“
How naked do I have to get before you take the bait?
”

Paul nearly crumpled to the floor. Because his knees suddenly felt like
J
ell
-O
.
“
Wha
…
What?
”

Carlo chuckled softly.
“
You heard me.
”

He let go of the camera and wiped his hands on his jeans, feeling like an idiot.
“
B
…
b
…
bait?
”

Carlo raked a hand through his thick, raven hair. That shy look Paul had seen earlier now came over Carlo
’
s face, only now, it didn
’
t flit away so quickly.

Paul
’
s heart thumped again. Was Carlo nervous? He
’
d always thought Carlo never got nervous.

“
Yeah. I didn
’
t know how else to tell you, man. You
’
re so
…
quiet.
”

Now Paul
’
s heart was racing almost too fast to breathe.
“
Tell
…
me?
”

Carlo huffed, but the sound was like mock annoyance. In spite of his seeming shyness, he grinned, that devilish, sexy grin he had. The one that first made Paul go ga ga for him.
“
Yeah, man. You know, to tell you I
…
I want you.
”
His hands went to the button of his jeans. He worked it open, slid down the zipper and left them open. He wasn
’
t wearing anything underneath
,
and his cock, the same caramel hue the rest of him was, Paul noticed, stood straight up from his black pubic hair. The thick veined shaft made Paul itch to touch and taste it.

Paul sucked in a breath.
“
You
…
want me?

Carlo pushed his jeans down past his hips and palmed his cock. He rubbed it in
slow,
light strokes.

Paul stared. He watched Carlo
’
s hand slide up and down the length of his cock. Carlo sagged back into the cushions
,
and his breath rasped loudly in the room.

“
Get over here, man. Please. I mean, if you want to
,
”
Carlo sounded insecure.

“
I want to.
”
And did he! For three years now.

He came out from behind the camera and crossed over to the sofa. His heart pounded like a jackhammer as he sat gingerly down next to Carlo. Carlo
’
s scent, musk mixed with rain filled his nostrils, made him feel a bit drunk.