Disclaimer: This story contains Homoeroticism. If you are offended by Homoeroticism, or are not of the legal age to read such material, or it is illegal to read such material where you reside, please leave now. Also this is a work of Fiction and any resemblance to real people and/or events in reality is entirely coincidental.
East European God
Chapter One
I just sat there, idly waiting at the gate for the plane to start boarding. I've just recently turned 18, only a month ago, and was glad to be on my own during February Vacation. My Uncle Greg kinda forced this on me. He was the one that bought my fare across Germany. This whole week I've been going from Frankfurt to Munich to Bonn to Hamburg and finally to Berlin. But it was nice to be on my own in a foreign country. Though, I would have picked a more relaxed schedule, so I could really enjoy Deutschland. But Uncle Greg, the control freak he is, made sure I took a crash course on a country's art and history (he wanted me to go to Italy, but I persuaded him to let me go instead to Germany) for this week's vacation.
I've been up since five o'clock, caught a flight from Berlin to Frankfurt, but not before, I listened to the tour guide my uncle hired for me talk about how to be a good business man for about 45 min or so(like that's what I really want to do the rest of my life). Uncle Greg is an asshole, as he is trying to control my life; he wants me to go to business school and help him run his company. Though I don't understand why he does, he never did anything to help out my family before. And where does he get off telling me how to run my life?
My family is not poor, but we aren't rich either. It's not like I live in a trailer park, but it's not like I live in a mansion either. Lower middle class that's what we are, dad was a supervisor at an automotive parts manufacturer in Indianapolis (until it went south to Mexico), and my mom is the receptionist at the middle school (can you imagine the crap I got in 7th and 8th grades because of that). I'm thankful that she doesn't work at my high school, even though it is my senior year. Dad has been trying to get a job elsewhere, but all he's been able to get is Wal-Mart so far. So the bills have been a little tough for them to pay lately, and good old Uncle Greg just watches. Though I herd form mom yesterday that it looks as if dad might get a job at another plant, I've been keeping my fingers crossed.
I on the other hand, gave up my part-time job at a local supermarket. They wanted me to work this week, full-time. But my uncle put his foot down, said that I must be going to Europe, no excuses. So, they fired me, they wouldn't give me the week off. It was either take the week off and lose my job, or hear about blowing off Europe from my pestering Uncle for decades to come.
So there I was, sitting at one of the many Lufthansa gates, waiting to go back home. I had a long day ahead of me. My flight was booked for 5pm, but weather kicked in, a thunderstorm with torrential rain caused the flight to be delayed until 6:30. It was a seven and a half hour flight to New York, which translated to a 9pm (Eastern Time) arrival. Luckily my flight to Indianapolis won't be affected, since it departs at 9:55pm. My older brother Charlie was to pick me up at 12am, and I had to admit, I couldn't wait. I couldn't wait to finally be in my own bed.
I looked at my watch, it read 4:03pm, another hour or so until we board the plane. I've already been in Frankfurt Airport for five hours since I landed on another Lufthansa flight from Berlin. I was a bit excited, albeit a little tired. I put away my book I was reading, I figured I could explore a bit more, maybe even get glimpses of the other planes. I love airports, the whole flying experience actually, that is why I'm leaning towards becoming a pilot, not some damn sneaky businessman like my uncle.
I stood up and looked around me. There where quite a few people around, must have been a least 150. I figured the rest had the same idea as me and where up and about. I walked to the window, which was no easy task considering the bags I had to step over. I looked out at the charcoal grey sky and the rain beating on the glass. Every once in a while the skies flashed, and even a bolt or two could be seen, followed by a loud clap or roaring thud that shook your bones, and the terminal when it was close. I could also see the plane I was to board eventually, a Boeing 747-400. Currently it's the second largest aircraft behind the new enormous Airbus A380. But to me that didn't matter, I favored the 747 anyway.
I turned away from the window and walked across to the rest of the terminal. As I walked, I would give a glance at other gates, seeing the spectacle of people trying to get reimbursement for the delayed flights, something that they will not get since you can't control the weather. I also stole some peaks at so hot boys too. One flight to London must have had 20 high school athletes waiting at its gate, and not one was even remotely less than hot looking. Not to use a pun, but I wish I had 20 cute athletes at my gate. I must have looked at the group for 10 minutes before moving on, and I had a tough time controlling my wood too.
After 30 minutes I turned into a bathroom. After I pissed at the urinal, I went to the sink and washed my hands. I then splashed my face with cold water, which seemed to help with the slight grogginess I felt. I looked up at the mirror and saw blue-green eyes stare back at me. I looked at my reflection for a minute, I guess I was contemplating why a few girls took great interest in me. Most say I'm not bad looking, while a good percentage say im hot. I have a slim 5'8" 145lbs build, and I only have just the beginnings of a 6-pack (I don't work out much, just a few crunches and pushups every other day, nothing big). My hair is dark-brown and short, and I always keep it gelled in a messy, spiked fashion. I have relatively gentle features. I don't find myself hot . . . no, more like, acceptable, and maybe even cute, but to me not hot. Though I guess that's because I'm the type that likes the bad ass beefed up jocks, biker boys, and all those other manly professions.
I walked away from the bathroom and made my way back to the gate. I figured since I had a few minutes until boarding, I'd just sit and wait at the gate. When I got there, I came to the realization that I wasn't the only one with the same idea. As I walked up to the gate, all I could see was a sea of people and carry-on luggage. It seemed as if all the 340 passengers were there. There were so many people that I couldn't find a spot to sit down. So instead I stayed standing up and leaned against a pillar, placing my carry-on between my feet, practically squishing it with my feet to keep from anyone stealing it.
I looked out the window and noticed the weather was clearing; it stopped raining and the clouds where actually dissipating. You could now see the brilliant reds, purples, oranges and pinks of the setting sun. I looked at my watch; it was 20 past five. I figured only five minutes or so until boarding.
Sure enough, about five minutes later the lady at the counter announced the boarding of or flight in English first (albeit with a thick German accent), then German. I took out my ticket and looked at the seat, 50A. Just to remind myself where I was, as if I hadn't memorized it already. I then glanced at my name Christopher Michael Jacobson.
I saw as the orderly chaos of people lining up to board the plane as their seat sections where called. "Quite a few hot guys" I thought to myself as I saw a number of high school and college age guys stand up and line up to enter the plane. The only thing that I was hopping at that point when they called my section, was to have one of these studs sit next to me on the plane.
And this I kept hoping and preying as I was slowly walking down the jetway to the plane. There were quite a number of old people to, and hideous men, and women actually. All I could think of was my flight on the way to Frankfurt, sitting next to a chubby 43, who hadn't shaved or taken a shower in what smelled like two days at least and snored the whole way. And on top of it, next to him was an old lady, I think his mother, which smelled of alcohol. Trust me, you don't want to have to bare that for eight hours.
It took me a while to finally get to my seat in the back of the plane, as people were moving slow and waiting for others to sit down. But there it was, row 50, seat A. I stowed my carry-on In the bin above, then climbed over two empty seats to get to my window seat. I looked at the two seats next to me and hoped that no one would be sitting there, if not a cutie.
It was another 25 minutes before most of the people got settled, and each time I saw a hot guy come close, I mumbled to myself "please sit here, please sit here, please dear God let him sit here" I must have done that a dozen times, only to have them sit in the bunch of seats in the middle, or several rows behind me. I gave up on it and just looked out the window for a while, watching the remainder of the sun fade away, and a sea of black take over the sky. I was so entranced by the sight of passing planes that finally got clearance to depart, and the hustle of busses, trolleys, trucks and ground crew outside, that I jumped when I heard someone thud into the seat next to me.
For a split second I dreaded turning to see the person, not wanting to see an ugly 40 year old hillbilly or something like that, sitting next to me on the flight to New York. But instinct took over and I looked. I was astounded by what I saw. I almost thought I was going mad. There, right next to me In seat 50B was the most gorgeous piece of art that I had ever seen. The most gorgeous guy I had ever laid eyes on was sitting next to me. Even sitting down you could tell he was at least 6 feet tall, and his T-shirt snug so nicely to his body, it left nothing to the imagination. He must have weighed a good 195 pounds or so, all solid lean muscle. His arms where a good 17 or 18 inches around, his chest looked hard and firm as stone, bulging from his body, and his abs were cut deep in a well-defined six-pack that the shirt could not even contain. He had the most beautiful ocean blue eyes, beautiful soft, thick medium-brown hair, and gentle, yet firm and masculine facial features that gave a playful and approachableness about him, which made him look like the sweetest, nicest guy on earth.
He looked at me concerned as I looked at him, transfixed by his beauty, and the fact that a demigod like him was sitting next to me. He checked his ticket looked it over, then turned to me and asked with a slight Ukranian accent "This is 50B correct?".
I just stared at him like an idiot, not believing my luck. I was actually going to get my wish; a hot guy was going to ride with me all the way to New York.