No one acknowledged his presence. That was odd. First class passengers typically wouldn’t tolerate being ignored. Caleb cleared his throat. The group stayed clustered around a small screen in their kitchen area. He muscled past them. Someone in the group quickly flicked off the screen. The attendant who’d been bringing him drinks fixed a smile on her face, but he saw the fear in her eyes.
“What.” His jaw ached from clenching it.
“Nothing sir, can I get you anything else?” The group disbanded, doing their jobs, completely silent. He used all he had not to yell with frustration. Obviously whatever had happened, no one planned to share it with passengers who might panic. His gut rolled again.
“Water,” he croaked. “Can I…?”
Someone shoved a piss-warm glass of water into his hand—again, very unlike the formerly polite and attentive crew. He took a deep breath, tried to catch the eye of the uniformed woman now carefully ignoring him. Giving up, he stumbled back to his seat, his knees suddenly unreliable.
What in hell is going on?
Whatever it was, he didn’t want to face it, hoped the flight would simply go on and on forever, never setting down and forcing him deal with the utter devastation that must have occurred. Was it an earthquake? Was Istanbul hit by terrorists? He talked himself out of the doomsday scenarios playing in his head, popped an aspirin, and concentrated on getting some sleep. Anything to hold at bay what was about to make him throw up the bourbon, food, and water he’d had that day. He settled for fuzzy daydreams about Tarkan, their smoking hot beginning, turbulent early days, and the moment he gave in to his true heart and admitted how he felt. He sighed, ignoring the niggling sharp pain that had developed behind his eyes again and drifted. Memories crowded his medicated brain, tumbling around and bringing home the very first time he realized he’d found the love of his life in Turkey.
***
Caleb finished his two-hour workout by nine PM. and was sitting at the coffee bar, nursing an espresso when he locked eyes with one of the most attractive creatures on the planet. He’d seen the guy before. They worked out at about the same time most days, exchanging polite nods and “excuse me’s” as they completed a long weight circuit. He’d started looking forward to what he considered Extreme Turkish Eye Candy, of the straight variety it seemed, as the man was never without some equally gorgeous female hanging on his every word.
He sighed and sipped, relishing the ache in his muscles from the workout. After two and a half years in Istanbul and intense language lessons paid for by the company, he had a good grip on the conversations swirling around him. He caught his fair share of “beautiful yellow hair American” and “sexy boy” from the ladies and smiled at them, for shits and giggles, aware of his affect while completely unaffected by them. But he was there now—the man Caleb had been admiring for weeks. And he was sitting near enough that Caleb could feel the heat of his skin and smell the shampoo in his damp hair. His skin prickled and he looked away.
“Merhaba.”
Caleb swallowed and answered back, in Turkish. They introduced themselves, shared a few pleasantries until the conversation got more complex than he could handle. The beautiful man’s accent when they switched to English rang in Caleb’s ears like a symphony. He gave himself a shake
. Don’t be a sap. He’s straight, remember?
“
You are here every night, like me
.”
“Yes, my office is around the corner and it’s an easy stop before going home.”
Caleb was mesmerized by the other man’s full lips and the extreme white of his teeth as he struck up conversations with every female who stopped by. They kept touching him, his hair, shoulders, arms. Caleb resisted a sigh of regret. “So,” Tarkan finally returned his focus to him. “I have a boat. Do you like boats?”
“Uh...sure.” Caleb looked around, suddenly nervous. He’d been warned to keep his sexuality under wraps in this conservative country. He’d found some pretty high-end gay bars, and discovered the same men there every time he went. But he’d remained celibate for going on three years, unwilling to engage with anyone there, in spite of several extremely tempting occasions. His cock punched hard against the zipper of his jeans. It hurt like a bitch, but he shifted and smiled at his new friend. “I, um, love boats.”
“Okay, Caleb, I’m having a party this weekend on mine. Leaving from the Asian side, this dock.” He flipped a business card onto the bar between them
.
Tarkan Deniz
Broker, Chase Manhattan Bank, Istanbul.
On the back, he’d written a phone number and address. Caleb frowned into Tarkan’s dark chocolate gaze. Nothing in it spoke of intimacy closer than a couple of buddies on a boat likely full of women and booze. He sighed and stuck out his hand. The electric spark that passed between the two men made them both blink. “Pleased to meet you, Tarkan. I’ll let you know about this weekend. I have to check my schedule.” Caleb’s schedule was full of work, exercise, work, exercise with an occasional injection of more work. He knew he’d be going, if for no other reason than to watch Tarkan do whatever one did when one “had a boat.”
The next night he dashed into the exclusive twentieth floor gym, gutted out seven miles on the treadmill, and tried not to stare too obviously, around for the other man’s dark face and body. After he’d toweled off and made his way toward the elaborate weight machines, he’d given up. The guy must not be coming tonight. It was Friday. He probably actually had a social life. After about an hour of arm work, Caleb prepared to call it quits. His boss had dumped a huge project on him and he knew he could get a head start tonight, if he went home now. A familiar laugh made him stop dead in his tracks. He whipped his head around, catching the spectacular rear view of the tall, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned Turk that was the star of his recent lonely fantasies. He took a deep breath and walked toward him.
The man was flirting with some women, as usual, as they lay draped around the weight benches, mouths open with eagerness. He didn’t blame them. The guy was a vision. He could be a model. He touched Tarkan’s shoulder. The mega-watt smile and deep mocha eyes caught Caleb off guard. He grinned.
“I’ll go,” he said simply, running a hand through his damp hair. The other man raised an eyebrow, as if questioning him. “I mean, I’ll join you. You know, on the boat. Sunday? Like we, ah, discussed?” He started to doubt his sanity. The guy looked positively confused. Then he nodded.
“Ah, yes, you must be Caleb.”
“Uh, yeah. We met, remember?” The other man’s musical laughter pealed out into the room, drawing attention to their conversation. He slapped a large hand on Caleb’s shoulder.
“You are looking for my brother. Tarkan?”
It was Caleb’s turn to be open mouthed. There were two of them?
“Evet. Ne istyorsun kardesim?”
Tarkan’s face appeared from behind a bank of free weights at the other end of the room. Caleb flushed and looked from one man to the other. They were scarily identical. He was willing to bet they’d used that to their advantage more than once if the impish grins on both handsome faces were any indication.
The boat trip had only been the two of them, to his pleasant surprise. In the powerful fancy speedboat, Tarkan had torn away from the shore, one hand on the wheel, the other in the air waving to the dockworkers. Caleb sat and watched the man’s body, covered only in khaki shorts and a tee shirt, and tried to will his cock down from its compromising position of extreme hard, bordering on agonizing. They cruised down the shoreline slowly. Tarkan pointed out various historical views and regaled Caleb with stories of growing up with a proud Turkish father and stubborn American mother. By the time they reached a spot about an hour down the coast and had pulled into a dock that looked to be an historical relic on its own, Caleb was drunk with lust.
Tarkan lead him up a steep grassy hill, dotted with the odd remnant of ancient temple or church or whatever, Caleb had no idea. History was not his thing. The man in front of him was though. He guided Caleb into what looked like a small, elegant restaurant on the outside but was obviously a private home. One table was set, in front of a blazing fire, for two. A few people appeared, poured wine, put some food down and disappeared. Caleb was nervous again. He wanted Tarkan so badly at that moment he didn’t think he could control himself. And he knew damn good and well Tarkan felt the same way.
“Afiyet olsun.”
Tarkan gestured to the food, which was a delicious simple meal of lamb, rice and fresh vegetables. Caleb stared at him, not sitting, not moving any closer. The room hummed with chemistry, electricity, and primal need.
“Are we alone?” he ground out. “Because if we aren’t we should be, and soon.”
He was thrilled to see Tarkan finally appear unsettled. The guy was one cool customer for certain. Calmer than anyone had a right to be. He glanced around, motioned with one hand, and the lights were dimmed, leaving the room lit by a single candle and the flickering flames in the grate. He took a step toward Caleb, ran a finger down his face, palmed his cheek. Caleb’s entire body broke out in a chill and if it were physiologically possible, his cock got even harder. “We should eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Caleb growled and reached for him, yanking his face close, covering his lips with his own, hungry beyond imagining for the Turkish treat in his arms. They melded together, nearly identical in their six-foot-two-inch bodies, arms wound around each other, tongues colliding with passion. Caleb groaned into Tarkan’s mouth as the other man’s hands slid down his arms, around to his ass, and pressed their bulging groins together, grinding into him so hard Caleb nearly came in his shorts. He yanked his face away and stared into the dark-skinned man’s eyes.
“I am one pent-up guy, I have to warn you. I...oh, shit....”
Tarkan dropped to his knees and tugged Caleb’s zipper down in one fluid motion, releasing his throbbing cock to the air. “Lovely,” he murmured, before dipping his tongue into the weeping slit, licking his way around the edge of the head and finally swallowing Caleb’s shaft all the way down, pressing his nose into the curls at the base.
“Jesus, I...oh....” Caleb bit it back, cocked his hips and held onto Tarkan’s hair, fucking his lovely mouth like an animal, making noises he didn’t know he had in him. The man moaned, clutched his ass and deep-throated him, again and again, sucking and tugging until Caleb saw stars at the edge of his vision, felt the orgasm gathering at the base of his spine. “Baby, I’m gonna blow.” His voice was a whisper in the nearly dark room. “I can’t hold back.”
In response, Tarkan pulled his mouth off with a final bit of suction, stood, and yanked his own shorts down. He possessed Caleb’s mouth, sweeping his talented tongue in and through, owning him with his lips. Their erections pressed together, the hot, hard sex between them beautiful and urgent.
Pressing a condom packet into Caleb’s shaking hand, Tarkan pulled his shirt off and did the same to Caleb, leaning in to lick at his rock hard nipples. Caleb suppressed a moan, ripped the packet open with his teeth and ran the thin latex down over his straining shaft. He tugged the man up, level with his face and put both hands on either side of it, relishing the roughness of the man’s skin under his palms. “I need you,” he said simply.
“Take me,” Tarkan hissed, pressed his lips to Caleb’s, then turned around, arching his back up, presenting that glorious ass Caleb had been ogling all day long. He ran his hands down the man’s dark flesh, across his back, rested them on his hips, before leaning over and biting down on his delicious shoulder. He tasted of cinnamon, saffron, allspice, and Caleb knew at that moment he could never get enough.
“Oh evet,
yes, my love,” Tarkan moaned as Caleb reached down to grasp his cock and rolled the soaking wet head in one hand. The smell of Tarkan’s sex filled his nose, and he moved against the man’s ass, needing inside but unwilling to go there—not yet. He wasn’t a fuck-on-the-first-date kind of guy, really. He moved his hand up and down Tarkan’s long, elegant shaft, relishing the way the other man’s hips moved into his strokes then back against his own needy, hard body. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, keeping himself bent, curled around the other man. Tarkan shifted, spread his legs as his hips moved faster. Caleb smiled against Tarkan’s tantalizing skin, licking his neck, nipping and biting, moving his own hips now, ready to penetrate.
“Lube?” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Tarkan’s breathing was ragged, and Caleb sensed him readying to orgasm in his hand. He licked two of his own fingers and pressed against the man’s anus. Oh, dear Lord, it was tight.
“
Uh huh
, evet, luften,
please!” Tarkan’s voice had deepened, and he arched back, using his body to press against Caleb’s intrusion, accepting the penetration. Caleb slid two fingers all the way into Tarkan’s ass, moving them, spreading him. He grunted at the sight, more turned on by it than anything he’d ever seen in his life. Tarkan’s brown skin, bunched muscles, and lean body were so ready for him.
“I’m gonna fuck you. Now. I...I have to, or I’m....” He groaned and gripped the man’s slim hips, sliding first the tip then the whole of his cock deep. His heavy ball sack pressed against Tarkan’s flesh. The sensation of being gripped, held, caressed by Tarkan’s body was the most erotic thing Caleb had ever experienced. They both groaned as Caleb pulled out, then slammed back into him. He gripped his hips, digging his fingers in hard, hanging on for dear life. Tarkan held a chair, bracing himself against Caleb’s aggressive moves.
Caleb took a long breath and tried to regain control. He was almost afraid of this. He hadn’t had sex in so long, he knew he wouldn’t last. And he wanted more from this man. His entire soul felt complete—he didn’t want it to ever end. Tarkan met him thrust for thrust, arching back, stroking his own cock in earnest. Caleb sensed the man’s body clamp down even tighter, took a deep breath of the lust in the room, and with a last hard shove, pressed home. He hung onto Tarkan’s shoulders now, needing him closer, unwilling to let him go.