Jazzie Chapter 5
The following story is for adults and contains graphic descriptions of sexual content. All the characters, events and settings are the product of my overactive imagination. I hope you like it and feel free to respond.
This story is a sequel to Fourteen. If you would like to comment, contact me at eliot.moore.writer@gmail.com.
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Jazzie 5
Unwelcome Distractions
“Watch a movie on the tablet, Jem?” Theo looks up from his phone. “I’ve just got T-34.” Theo and Jeremy are simply sitting with their phones.
Jeremy is slouched in the chair beside the wicker couch, “Maybe not.” Jeremy’s leg is bouncing out of some inner need. Half a year makes them an old teenage couple. They are not yet comfortable shoes broken to the feet. Jeremy’s grandmother Mary would scoff at that anticipation. You learn to sit easily together, to rest like best friends do. The heart slows down, but the memories never leave a body in peace. Mary Gates could verify that.
Theo shrugs this movie rejection off and exchanges his phone for his pedicure kit. He lifts a leg up on the couch so he can work on his cuticles. He brushes the hair out of the way with his knuckles. Jeremy, still slouched, is looking at him over the top of his phone. This warms Theo, who likes to be beautiful for men (everyone actually). Theo likes getting the look. His eyes go up to acknowledge his boyfriend. Jeremy’s focus returns to his phone.
The apartment, which his boyfriend nicknamed Da Nang in whimsical honor of the haunted old man who bequeathed Fourteen Gates to Jeremy, is more Theo’s than Jeremy’s; or perhaps more fairly, theirs together. The fourteen-unit Fourteen Gates is somewhat more than half structurally secured. The first phase completed two sides of the former primary school facing the harbor. Money is at hand to complete the distressed, northeast remainder.
They are being evicted from Da Nang. This makes them both sad. Jeremy, Theo suspects, is reluctant to be forced into a finished BnB that ties him closer to his traumatic odyssey across America. Da Nang is Theo’s creation. He helped install the new windows facing the inner court, he scrounged furniture, and freshly painted the tired 1970’s studio, all to entice his boyfriend off his cherished sailboat. A renovated BnB across the courtyard will be just a hotel room for them both. Jeremy won’t see it any other way, until I work on his foolish stubbornness again! The finished units are very nice. Theo reminds himself with anticipation.
The heart slows down, but the memories never leave a body in peace. Theo half wears the short kimono-style robe with a chrysanthemum flower pattern. His-not-his, because it was worn by another, first. It falls decorously off a Beyoncé-boy shoulder and reveals Theo’s smooth torso. Smooth calf, silken inner thigh and microfiber briefs. Memories tease. Jeremy’s hungry lips consumed that thigh and he knows the pendulous weight contained by Theo’s blue-ice boxer briefs.
Jeremy is sixteen, and that means he can trip over his own body unexpectedly. He is Gay, so a fabric-fluffed crotch can hold his appreciative eye on the street. The way a man lifts, turns, or stretches can spark imagination. The cascade of Theo’s hair brushing his face or mopping his open thighs, Jeremy remembers.
“Do you want to split a beer?”
Theo pares a little with his clippers before replying. “Feeling a little thirsty, Jem? Mouth a little dry?”
“Yeah, just a bit.”
Theo rests his cheek on a knee to give Jeremy his answer to the look. He has his memory theater too. The length of Jeremy deep inside, the swell of healthy biceps casually holding up the phone, hairless forearm he can kiss as Jeremy supports his weight across Theo’s back; and Theo remembers the smoothness of his boyfriend’s cheeks against his fresh-shaved thighs.
Theo is eighteen, less prone to trip over his own body (into a prone position). He has an inclination for the older men he embraced in Miami. Men like Shari at first, then men like Tod who took him on their boats. Theo likes the life-lessoned-learned patina on their faces. Boys, like Jeremy's friends Chris Aska and Jerry Roberts are too innocent for Theo. Jeremy is different. He came to Theo like Fergus came to Dil in The Crying Game. The fictional one haunted by what he had done across the water, his one still haunted by unspoken memories. Jeremy came to Theo with life's patina acid-etched into his young face.
Jeremy walks his bobcat-poise to the tubercular fridge beside the bathroom. The can cracks, and he begins a pour. Drinking is something the boyfriends usually do in places like Heroes Sports Bar, or someone’s BnB in Jolly Harbour. They make it worth someone else’s while. He is carefully topping up the glasses when Theo sheds his kimono-robe and moves behind him.
It starts with a loving waist lock; Theo's forearm pressed into Jeremy's solar plexus. Jeremy abandons the glasses and wriggles around. His palm presses along Theo's bicep and travels to Theo's face. Just a suggestive pressure of the heel of his hand against his boyfriend's jaw. This turns the head away, and Jeremy follows up by combing his fingers into Theo's mane. Their cocks press together in agreement. This overture of desire suggests an overture to the cat fight sex they've chosen for the moment. Theo and Jeremy square off. They rotate away from the kitchenette, hands mirrored on shoulder and forearm. Their eyes converse like professional wrestlers ready to spar.
Free of unwelcome obstructions, Theo off-balances Jeremy, breaking his hold. The young man swings in quickly with a right hip bump hoping to carry Jeremy diagonally past the table, and down on the bed for a quick pindown. That means risking extra steps. Jeremy giggles, and decides to forfeit his position. He drops to his knees beside the couch.
Jeremy's lighter strength tries for a thigh hold that should take his boyfriend off his feet. Theo counters this with an overarm hook, hoping to immobilize Jeremy. The boy responds by twisting out of the hook, intending to regain his footing. Theo drops on Jeremy with an arm-and-chest offense.
The giggling has stopped. There is just the sound of heavy breathing. They lie in their tangled embrace, Theo pinning Jeremy, except for a defiant leg twisting Jeremy's growing erection towards Theo's face. Theo's head drops down and he kisses Jeremy's side.
There is flinching now and then. Half-hearted efforts by Jeremy to break the hold, Theo deciding how best to shift around so he can cover his boyfriend. Half-hearted because they love the tight embrace, the smell of each other, and the coursing blood that heats them.
As soon as Theo's grip slackens, Jeremy takes advantage. He tries to roll beneath the young man, but this leaves him on his knees in a Half Nelson with Theo scissored around his hips. They are both panting now. Theo's groin grinds into Jeremy’s spine. The young man humps his back in a suggestive rythme. ♪♫♬ I get a little bit nervous around you, Get a little bit stressed out when I think about you ♪♫♬ Get a little excited ♪♫♬ Baby, when I think about you, yeah ♪♫♬ They freeze. ♪♫♬ I get a little bit nervous around you, Get a little bit stressed— "Hey Google, Answer Call," Jeremy calls out.
“You know it is your mother.” Theo giggles on top of him.
Jeremy? You got someone on your boat, I think. The voice is Gustavus from his sailboat, Lejonet i Norr, moored beside Gravity in the harbor.
"Nope," Jeremy's consternation is clear. "Did you go and check?"
Lights are off; thought it might be you, entertaining. The lock is off the companion way. Do you want me to check it out?
"I'll just come down. Can you keep an eye on things?"
Jeremy actually prefers Shekerley's Boatyard at the north end of Falmouth Harbour. His sailboat is more secure in the busy marina, he can work for mooring and utilities, and if he moves Gravity out into the larger harbour, he has more leeway. The smaller historic harbor is very busy and not so quiet. There are restaurants all around, and the music can be a cacophony. English Harbour is exciting, but slightly overwhelming to a teenager seeking tranquility.
Jeremy stands on the floating dock, surveying the restaurant over at Nelson's Dockyard for a moment. "Any action?" He asks the old man smoking a cigarette in the neighboring cockpit. There is little reason to be quiet. If someone broke in, they have likely done their damage and vanished into the hot night.
"Nothing to report, Jeremy."
The lock is off the top board, but the sliding hatch is closed. Nobody has disturbed the padlocks securing the cockpit lockers. A flash of doubt flickers. Did I forget to lock it in a hurry? That would be disturbing. He cannot afford to make mistakes like that.
Jeremy pulls two boards and hops over the third. His feet swing for a moment and then he drops onto the sole of his boat. He lifts the chart table top. The tablet is still there. There are dirty dishes in the sink. A takeout box is on the table. Should have brought Theo's baton, Jeremy scolds himself.
When the lights flick on, Jeremy turns to see bare legs squirming through the V-berth hatch. "Motherfucker!" His first impulse is to try and grab the kid's legs. The trespasser is too quick.
John slept through the conversation on the dock. It was Jeremy's feet dropping to the floor that woke him. There is no thought. He has planned for this; just pull the screen free, push the release, go through the hatch.
There is a man on the dock blocking his way back up the path. While John hesitates, Jeremy comes back up the companion way. John's heart hurts so bad. He backs toward the bow pulpit.
"John," Jeremy calls out.
John turns to the water and jumps in. He is going under. It is quiet there. With Jeremy above him, he wants to stay down here. His body surfaces against his will, John starts awkwardly swimming towards the lights across the harbor.
"God damn!" Jeremy moves to the bow. Well, the kid's not drowning … yet. Jeremy is not considering options, there are none. He watches John a while, and then toes off his shoes.
It is an easy swim over to where John is flailing through the water. The boy stops swimming for a moment and turns back. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Then the boy’s mouth dips under and he comes up coughing. Jeremy treads water just out of reach. John turns back to Nelson's Dockyard and the busy restaurant. He resumes swimming.
Three relaxed strokes, and Jeremy can coast beside the boy, side stroking in lazy kicks. "It's a long way, John. Let's go back."
John just throws himself on Jeremy and they both slip under for a moment. When they surface, "I'm sorry! I was just borrowing it. I wasn't going to keep it." Jeremy's strong scissors keep them on the surface as the boy sobs against his neck.
“Theo Clarke, meet John Carter.”
“Well,” Theo strikes a meditative pose, “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Jeremy has John in easy custody. His hand is lightly on John’s shoulder. They are both still soaked. It is a good look for Jeremy; hair suggestive of exertion, his shorts still heavy on his hips with the harbour water. The boy is, well, the boy. The pants dry, except where Theo can see the underclothes have soaked through the thin fabric. John’s mop of hair hangs woefully bedraggled about his round face.
John crinkles his nose at the young man facing him. Jeremy’s friend is about Tayo’s height. The two young men might be about the same age. The similarities end there. Tayo is Gray’s Farm. Theo Clarke belongs in one of the fine, gated houses Pudgee Funk and Tayo drove John past. With his silken robe, the young man should be poolside at the Five Star Inn across the road from Jeremy’s place. Jeremy’s friend’s hair is long, but not in dreads.
“Had a bit of a paddle on the pond, did we?” Theo’s face turns slightly disapproving. His rich, alto voice layers on the seductive-superiority for the pair. “You’re mucking up my floors; best take those off and get washed up.”