Chapter Twenty-One

Bliss

BRENDON

 

The bike ride to the retreat is fun, but a bit tricky with my splinted arm hanging on one side and the good arm holding Saaransh tight at the waist. Saaransh left my apprehensions way behind in Melbourne with his skilled driving, navigating the roads to the campsite outside Healesville township in the Yarra Valley. In one of our chats during his Denmark tournament, Saaransh had expressed his wish to go on a trip with me.

“Wow.” Saaransh swirls to take in the view, arms spread on his sides in excitement.

“Wait till you see the cottage.” I guide him inside with my hand on his waist. The cottages here come with full amenities. There is a kitchen, a fireplace, and two bedrooms, but I guess we will use only one. Blood rushes down south.

“Blue, have you seen the views from the balcony.” Saaransh drags me to admire the pristine mountains. The air is icy; the snow melted only a few weeks ago. Once the sun sets, the temperatures will drop further. This place will be busy with people hiking and taking bike rides on the mountain trails in another month. For now, Saaransh and I get our quiet time together.

“Do you like this place?” I put my hand on Saaransh’s shoulder. When he turns, his eyes are moist. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Saaransh doesn’t answer. He closes the space between us and hugs me tight resting his head in the nook of my neck. “I love it. This is beyond my imagination.”

“You will love the trails. We can visit vineyards while we are here. We have three days to ourselves to enjoy the scenery.” Saaransh’s cheeks are soft and moist as I rub them.

“I am not going anywhere. I will spend all my time snuggling with my Yogi Bear.” Saaransh raises himself and caresses my lips with his.

“Count me in. Why waste time?” In my lust, I forget the limitations of my injury. The moment I lift Saaransh with my healthy arm, my back catches. “Ouch.”

Saaransh pulls away. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

I stretch my back. “Must be the stiffness from the ride.”

Saaransh turns me. “Let me have a look.”

I wince when he touches the painful spot over the middle spine.

“Take your clothes off. Let me check it.” Saaransh pulls me toward the bedroom.

I stay put. When Saaransh glowers, I tug at his hand and pull him closer. “You don’t need an excuse to get me naked.” Saaransh shoves me forward. When his effort creates no movement, he goes behind and pushes me to the bedroom with both his hands. “My, my, someone is impatient.” I make him work, dragging my feet on the carpet covering the hardwood floor.

“Stop being cocky and take your clothes off. This is a professional consult. You are about to enjoy an exceptional massage from these deft hands.” Saaransh tugs at my jacket. He helps me take the black leather jacket off, followed by my t-shirt. He steps to the side and ogles. “Am I mistaken, or did you grow bigger?”

I flex my arms and strike a pose. “How about now?”

“Hmm, the view is better without those.” Saaransh points to my pants.

He pulls at my belt, and in the next few seconds, I am out of my cargo pants. “This better?”

“Yes, but only this much.” Saaransh indicates an inch with his thumb and index finger. “Some other things can enhance the view.” He bites his lower lip.

“Taking unfair advantage of an injured man. What about my infinite better view?” I pull him close, grabbing his shirt.

Saaransh pushes me, and I land on the bed. “You don’t get a say in this.”

I rush to grab him again, forgetting the stiffness. We both tumble on the bed. Saaransh slides over me. He manages to stop the momentum with his hands. The pillows cushion his fall and give me a gift. The bulge of his crotch is next to my eyes. I rub my nose on his fly and glance at him. “You sure? Your assistant here disagrees.”

“Behave, old man. Let me give you a massage and relieve your stiffness first. Once I finish, you can work my assistant.” Saaransh pulls himself up and straddles my chest.

“Only if you rub me without your clothes.”

“You don’t need to ask a second time. Lie down and watch the show.” Saaransh stands over me, stripping himself in slow movements, the shirt followed by the pants. Once Saaransh gets rid of his clothes, he is on me in a flash with his tight black briefs. “This better, Yogi Bear?” He kisses my lips and traces a sloppy trail on my neck, shoulders, all the way to my waist following the trail on my spine. Saaransh squeezes my butt cheeks and lowers my boxers to my knees in a slow, tantalizing movement, blowing puffs of air after each wet kiss.

“Get your fill, Shy.” I wiggle my arse, hoping he enjoys the cheeky gift I offer him. He takes a small nip on the right mound, sending currents in all directions through my body. He follows the bite with a swipe of his wet tongue. His fingers trace the circumference of my butt cheeks. The kisses alternate between my thighs and move down the legs.

A moan leaves my lips. “Mhm. What happened to Mr. Professional Masseur?”

“You didn’t read the fine print, Blue.” Saaransh slaps my butt, sending a shiver up my spine. “Time to move these out of the way.” Saaransh pulls my boxers further down and maneuvers them out of my ankles.

Now I am naked and hard as steel. The anticipation of having Saaransh is making me hornier by the minute. My cock twitches when Saaransh presses himself on me without his underwear. His hot hardness rests in the crack between my arse cheeks. Saaransh massages me, rubbing and rolling himself against me.

“Mmhhh.” The moan leaves my pursed lips as Saaransh’s deft hands squeeze and roll over my back muscles, helping ease the pain, but his movements over my butt send a sensual ache radiating to my front. I try to lift myself to turn over, but Saaransh pins me to the bed with both his arms.

“No, Blue. We have plenty of time. For now, relax. Let me help your stiff back.”

“I won’t be able to hold on longer if you keep wiggling. Need you, Shy. I need you now.”

“Shh, Yogi Bear, let me take care of you.”

“You are forewarned. Those hands of yours will cause a bear attack.” I slump to lie flat on the bed, clutching the bed sheets tight when Saaransh rubs his hip on my arse cheeks. “Are you testing my patience? Is this some devious plan of yours?”

“Shh, I am learning to mount a wild horse.” Saaransh pinches my waist.

“You, devil.” I turn. Saaransh tumbles to the side. He giggles when I crawl and press him against the mattress. “Make up your mind, Shy. A teddy bear or wild hor...” His tickles stop me from completing my sentence. This calls for war. We grapple with each other. Even with one arm, I manage to pin him to the bed with his arms over his head. Our bodies are flush, skin on skin, grinding our hard hot dicks.

“Grumpy bear, relax. You win.” Saaransh wets his lips, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He is cute, and I am horny. “So, do I get to ride my wild horse now?” I bite and lick his nape.

“Oof.” Saaransh bucks into me, producing a delicious rub of our groins. “Blue, I love your manhandling. But for now, let me finish. The massage will relive the ache.”

I relent and release him. “No more teasing.” He pouts at my warning. Saaransh guides me to turn and lie on my stomach. After a minute, a drop of liquid hits my skin. “Mmmh.” More drops follow. At first, they are ice cold, but in seconds warmth spreads around them. A strong lemon-and-orange fragrance fill the air. “What are you using?”

“Be quiet. Don’t think. Follow the touch.”

I lie down, my face on the side, eyes on Saaransh as his fingers trace patterns. The soft movements from Saaransh send a shiver to my sides. I writhe on the bed, trying to suppress the belly laugh. “Don’t tickle me, Shy.”

A firm hand lands on my bum, cutting off my protest. “Close your eyes, Blue.” Saaransh kneads the muscles, this time using his palm and forearm to release the knots. My body relaxes, and calm settles. I close my eyes and soak in the sensations of Saaransh’s body over mine.

*

I wake up to notes of a flute floating into my ears. When I turn and open my eyes, the bed is empty, sheets crumpled and cold. The lingering mild citrus fragrance assures me of our night together. I put on my boxers and move toward the melody emanating from the balcony. The sight before me sends a zing between my thighs. Saaransh is sprawled in some yoga pose with his butt high in the air in full display. Wait, are those ballet leotards? The stretch of the navy-blue spandex lights up crazy sparks inside my head. I can’t help—payback time. I tiptoe to where he is doing his exercise and smack his bum.

“Ow.” Saaransh falls on the mat and rubs his arse. “Why the hell did you hit me?”

“If you strut around with your booty raised, you will end up with more than a bruised bum. What are you doing in these tights?”

“This is yoga, dude.” Saaransh gets up and rolls the mat.

“Yeah, but ballet leggings?” I rub my hand over his thigh, squeezing the tight skin in my hands.

Saaransh tilts his body away from my hand. “Um, the routine is my secret.” He lowers his head and glances at me from the corner of his eyes, clutching and twisting the hem of his bright yellow sleeveless t-shirt. When he notices me smiling, he raises one eyebrow? “What?” He swats away my roving hand, tracing its way around the voluptuous round curve of his butt cheeks.

“Our bodies, Mr. Yogi Bear, are much more than a bunch of pecs, biceps, and quads.” Saaransh pokes me in the chest. “Yoga is for flexibility.” Saaransh stands on his right leg and pulls his left leg behind his back, stretching his hands to hold his ankle to form an O. He brings the leg down, following the same arc, heels next to each other. Next, he bends his knees till his thighs are horizontal with the floor. “This, Mr. Rugged Brawn, is a plié. Ballet helps in strengthening the smaller muscles.”

I pull Saaransh in my arms. “Where’s my invitation to the morning show?”

“You were knocked out.” Saaransh pokes his tongue out.

“Aww, can I make up now?” I squeeze him and press my lips to his, giving the lower one a gentle nip. He opens his mouth and lets my tongue in. Saaransh wriggles in my arms. I tighten my grip. “Not letting you go without a private show. Dance for me, babe.” Saaransh stills at the endearment and ruffles my hair away from my forehead before planting a kiss, uncoiling any remaining apprehensions in my mind. I want this man.

“Hmm, but only this one time.” Saaransh walks to his mobile. A few quick moves with his finger and he turns up the volume. Some symphony on a piano fills the air, and my eyes pop out over what Saaransh displays over the next few minutes.

As I watch in awe, my mind recalls all those moves on the badminton court at the Olympics. The swirls, the jumps, and the midair splits; I rush and grab him in my arm. We swirl, his arms on my neck and mine tight around his waist, our eyes locked on each other. The universe fades away, leaving Saaransh and me in this blissful moment.

Mm, oh yes. My Saaransh. “Time to make you mine.” I carry him to the bedroom.

*

SAARANSH

 

“Oi, we should move out,” Brendon mumbles while he rubs his cheek on my wet hair.

“Nuh. A few more minutes.” I tighten my arms around him, gluing our chests together again, and press my nose deeper into his neck. My fingers dig into his thick back while he kneads my butt cheeks with his. Standing with Brendon under the cascade from the showerhead, I float wrapped in his warmth. Is this what people in love experience?

The steamed glass of the bathroom offers the serenity and solitude to synchronize my heart rhythm to Brendon’s while my tongue licks the water drops running down his neck, nourishing my soul. “Noo.” My protest does not stop Brendon from turning off the shower. He grabs a towel from the stand and moves us out of the shower area.

“Hold tight.” In a swift move, he hoists me over his shoulder and carries me out to the bedroom. For a man with an injured forearm, he is doing plenty of heavy lifting.

“I do have legs.” I trace a wavy path with a finger on his jiggling butt cheeks.

“Mhm, I did notice, but I fancy you squeezed against my body.” Brendon drops me on the bed and pats me dry. “Are you all right?” He rubs my naked ass.

I love his Australian twang on the you’s and yours. They add a spicy sauce to his persona. We have been in a sex haze since he caught me in the ballet tights. Brendon gives me a porn show as he dries himself, fueling my addiction. “Come here, Yogi Bear.” Brendon pushes himself up on the bed and rests against the headboard. I pick the plate of strawberries from the nightstand and snuggle with him. He pulls the covers over us. Picking up a strawberry with my mouth, I present the fruit, dripping with juice, to Brendon. We nibble together at each end until our lips meet in a sloppy kiss, flavored by the tangy sweetness of the juicy red fruit.

“Mmmh, the sweetness of your lips.” I use the tip of my tongue to wipe the wetness off Brendon’s lips. “Another one?” I present the next fruit piece.

“Wait.” Brendon takes the plate from my hand. He places the dish on the nightstand. “You did not answer my question. Did I hurt you?” Brendon cups my face and searches my eyes for any sign of discomfort.

After kissing his hand, I lean into his palm and close my eyes. “No, a bit sore down there, but I don’t mind another round.” I glance up to check his reaction while my fingers graze the curls of hair on his chest.

“Poking the bear, Shy.” Brendon plants a light peck on my lips. “Let the soreness settle. I don’t want to hurt you.” Brendon picks up a strawberry and feeds the fruit to me.

Between crunching the berry, I ask him. “Promise?” Brendon brings another strawberry to my lips, but I grab his hand and feed him instead. I settle on his chest listening to his heart, pure and kind. My own heart is ready to burst out. Happy and sated. A few months ago, after I pushed Brendon away, I never imagined this day would come. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to lock the tears from rolling down. One escapes and lands on Brendon’s chest.

His finger gathers another tear before the drop rolls down my cheeks. “Hey, why are you crying?”

I rub my face on his chest. “Tears of joy for being with you. The loneliness after London was scary, Brendon. I had messed up things between us. And my parents—what can I say? Pa went ballistic on my return from London.”

Brendon stills and stays quiet for a while. He tilts my face up and holds it, searching my eyes. “What happened when you returned from the Olympics?”

I tell him everything. All through, he holds me tight. He stiffens when I narrate my showdown with Pa. My voice breaks several times. Despite all my efforts, I can’t hold the sniffles. I swallow down the lump and clear my throat.

He surprises me with his words. “I am so sorry, Shy, for causing this terrible mess in your life.” Brendon rubs my cheek and plants a kiss on my head.

“I don’t blame you. My father’s reaction would be the same even if I had come out in the privacy of our house.”

“Yes, but the unwanted publicity took your family away. You miss them, and I am the reason behind it.”

“No. I miss my parents, but it’s not your fault. It is my father’s attitude. Ma and my grandmother are supportive. They pestered me to talk about you and show them your photographs.”

The lines on Brendon’s forehead smooth. “Tell me about your mom.”

I rest my head on his chest. His heartbeat is soothing. “She is a wonderful person—kind and understanding. Ma is a qualified math teacher but gave up her job after my birth. She is the strongest supporter of my badminton career. Once I showed interest in the sport, she read books about it. She would make special meals to ensure I got a healthy diet. One day, I hope you meet her. You will love her.”

“What about your father? Did he support you for playing badminton?”

My throat goes dry, and I sigh. “No, Pa detested it. In high school, Pa refused to sign the consent form for my selection to represent the city in an inter-school competition. We ended up in a heated argument, and he burnt my racket in front of me. While rubbing my tears, I swore I would never play again.”

“Shit. How mean. Why is your father this way?”

“He is not a mean person, but he has set ideas about what is right and wrong. Engineering is right. Sport is wrong. I can’t blame him. In India, there is no money in sports outside cricket. Livelihood is more important than entertainment. At the time, I had no way to prove to him my capability to make a career out of badminton.”

“Hmm, I can understand. But still.”

“What about you? Did you always want to play rugby? How did your parents react when you came out?”

“I am lucky. On my sixth birthday, Dad bought me my rugby ball. Rob played rugby in school. His running through opposition defences hooked me to the game. Rugby is my passion, but the game also helped me make a career. My good form got me a scholarship to university and a spot on the club team here in Melbourne. My form at the club won me a spot on the Wallabies test series squad against the All Blacks. Playing rugby at the national and international level has been an amazing journey.”

Brendon takes a deep sigh and stops speaking. In the stillness of the room, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the curtains, Brendon’s unease is visible. He does not answer my last question. Should I push on? He already told me about Mike. Our moods are subdued with this talk, but I am glad we shared pieces of our lives. The remaining gaps can be filled in time. I am not in a rush. No point in spoiling the present by prying into those memories for him. The past can wait. I slide down and cuddle him. “Blue, can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

I bite my lip and utter the words bubbling underneath the surface of my emotions. The L word is on my lips, but I am scared to use it, so I go for the next best thing. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

The few seconds of silence almost cause a heart attack. I am about to melt in embarrassment when the words tumble out of Brendon’s mouth. He squeezes my hand, holding it tight on his chest.

“Yes, Mr. Saaransh, I will be your boyfriend.”

My heart soars. I straddle Brendon and pepper his face with kisses. “Thank you, Blue.”

“For what?”

“Thank you for being you. Thank you for all these memories and for sharing your life with me. For the many firsts in my life.”

Brendon ruffles my hair; he has a peculiar fondness for the wavy bunch in the front, finding opportunities to fondle them. But not as often as he rubs circles on my thigh. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. However, if you insist, there are a few ways I can show you once my boyfriend’s arse calms down.” His chuckle vibrates through his chest, bringing joy to my heart.

“Funny, are we?” My grin widens as I move my hand down his chest. The vibrations of his heartbeat accelerate when my hand moves to his waist beneath the covers. His cock hardens in my grip.

I squeeze and wink at him. “Until your boyfriend recovers, I can do this to my boyfriend.” Before he reacts, I push the sheet aside and take his cock in my mouth.