Love on the Rocks

Love On The Rocks - 11

This story contains sexual situations between two males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. If you are under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this story. This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.

In the morning, Ty and I only had time for a brief cuddle and a bit of sexual handiwork before we heard George's prompt knock on the door at 8.30, followed by his delivery of our breakfast.

We took advantage of our shower time to continue the handiwork, and then hit the beach for a grueling run before returning to the house. We dressed and while I logged on and checked emails, Ty was hard at work with his manuscript and guitar.

I lay on the balcony and read for a while, until I realised George was stripping beds and doing loads of washing, which wasn't part of his work brief. He wouldn't let me take over, so we did the chore together and I was thankful it was me who stripped the bed I shared with Ty. I remade the beds while George prepared a light lunch.

After we'd eaten, Ty returned to his manuscript, and I prepared for my drive to the airport to collect Scott. I called out that I'd see him in about three hours. On my way out the door, I reminded George that Scott would be with us for dinner and that I'd pick something up.

It was mostly a cruisy and enjoyable drive in the sunshine, but unexpected heavy traffic for the final leg of the trip left me worrying I'd be late meeting Scott's flight. Fate had me arriving at the gate lounge only minutes after the plane had touched down.

I stood to one side and watched as priority passengers filed into the terminal first, and noticed Scott immediately. He seemed engrossed in a conversation with a very pretty girl around his own age, and I was able to have a good look at him unobserved for a minute or so.

If anything, he looked more handsome than ever; his tan had deepened, his dirty blonde hair was messy and his smile still lit up the room. He was a younger version of Ty and I wondered briefly how that thought hadn't occurred to me the first time I saw him in Coolangatta.

Scott said his goodbyes to his fellow passenger and turned to scan the lounge. I waved and he beamed as he strode towards me.

"Hey Mike!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around me and slapping my back. "It's great to see you!"

"Hey asshole!" I grinned. "You're looking great."

"Where's Ty?"

"He was working on his music so I thought it was better to keep him focussed on that," I explained. "Besides, Ty hanging around an airport can turn into a circus, as you know."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "I can't wait to see him!"

"So, I saw you chatting up a piece of skirt!"

Scott laughed. "Yeah, she was sitting next to me on the flight and she was really friendly, if you know what I mean. She was hoping we could catch up while I'm here."

"Did you make any plans?"

"Nah, I told her I was catching a connecting flight to Alice Springs!"

"So, no interest?"

"Ah, no," said Scott, a little self-consciously.

We left the discussion there while we collected Scott's luggage from the carousel and within minutes, we were on our way back to the Sunshine Coast. We chatted a little about how George came to be staying with us, and I enthused about the house and the beach. I was keeping things casual, but suddenly Scott turned towards me and spoke quietly.

"Ty told you, didn't he?"

I was caught by surprise and paused for a moment before replying. I contemplated saying "told me what?", but decided that the truth was the way to go.

"Yeah, mate. That bother you?" I studied his face, but he gave little away.

"Hey Scott, no secrets, right? Besides, I thought you and me were mates, even before Ty, well ... you know ..."

Scott laughed. "Before Ty poked you with his rhythm section?"

I grinned back. "Why the fuck are you here if it isn't to talk? Isn't that the point? To talk, I mean. Without having to go off whispering in dark corners?"

"Yeah, that's right Mike," Scott replied, his smile returning. "At home, I just didn't get the chance to talk to Ty privately. Every time we were along, Mum appeared asking if we wanted some juice. Or if we said we were going for a walk, Dad was half way to the door before we even pulled our boots on."

"Yeah, he told me," I laughed. "Can't blame them though. They don't see much of him these days so I guess they just wanted to make the most of any time they got to spend with him."

"I know it," Scott replied. "And I couldn't lay it all on Lachie, not with him flying back to fuck knows what. Shit, it makes my little problem seem pathetic."

I ignored that.

"Well, you've got all this time ahead of you, away from home, to discuss anything you want to with Ty."

"No, no Mike," he protested. "I'm cool with talking to you. Fact is, there's a couple of things I wanna clear up ... before ...". He hesitated. "... before I talk to Ty."

I was surprised but didn't show it. "Shoot," I said.

"OK, here goes," he said, drawing a breath. "First thing is a confession. I know you saw me jacking off in my bedroom that morning."

I paused, and he added, "At Grand Apartments", as if I needed reminding.

"No way!" I shot back, this time registering surprise. "I went back inside before you could have seen me."

"Yeah but you were always on the balcony about that time, having your coffee, so I just made sure you could see me. I wanted you to see me."

"Why, Scott?"

He shrugged as if he had no answer, but then went on to explain as best he could. "I wanted you to make a move on me, I guess. I had this feeling you were gay and ... well, I wasn't sure how to ... you know? Shit, it sounds so fucking lame, doesn't it?"

"And there was me, feeling like I was a voyeur ...!"

"What did you think of me when you first met me?" Scott asked, suddenly earnestly.

I thought for a moment before answering.

"Okay. You asked. Honestly? The first time I saw you was when you were checking in. I thought you were the most gorgeous guy I'd ever laid eyes on, and stuff started happening in my jocks! I was so distracted by you that I even tipped coffee in my lap. All my groceries went flying all over the floor of the lobby, and George came to help me."

"Yeah, I noticed," he chuckled. "I remember looking at you and laughing, and you got embarrassed and disappeared pretty quick."

"Embarrassed doesn't cut it, mate. I spent the next 24 hours wondering why I felt so attracted to a kid so much younger than me. I didn't see you for a couple of days and thought you must have disappeared. Then I heard you'd had that accident and were hobbling around on crutches. It was the next day, when you came to the pool, that we met for the first time."

"Yeah, and because my back was so sore, you offered to massage me, and I couldn't wait. I really did think that once I was in your apartment and naked on the massage table, things would just naturally happen. If anything was going to happen."

He sighed. "But nothing did."

Again, I considered my reply.

"Time to fess up," I said. "I was in a real conflict over that. I couldn't believe my luck that I'd gotten the opportunity to give you a rubdown. My cock was sending me one very strong message. But I kept reminding myself that you were 17, almost half my age. A kid. And I don't regret the fact that my conscience won. For two reasons, Scott. Firstly, you didn't actively give me any signals that you wanted anything to happen and secondly, I'd have hated myself later."

"Well I'm glad I know that," Scott said. "I was worried maybe you had some idea that I was trying to seduce you and that you thought I was pathetic."

"Far from it mate," I reassured him. "I still thought you were one of the most handsome guys I'd ever clapped eyes on. I still do. But if anything had happened between us ..."

I stopped myself. I was about to mention Ty but somehow that didn't feel right.

"Yeah," he laughed. "You and Ty? Now how would he have reacted if he'd found out you'd fooled around with his little brother?"

"Turned out you ended up playing matchmaker," I grinned. "Your big brother is my perfect match, mate, and I've never been happier in my life. I owe that to you."

"It makes me happy too, Mike," he smiled back. "I'm pretty stoked that I pointed him in your direction. I figured he'd get some good legal advice from you, but he got more than even I bargained on!"

Scott laughed, before adding ruefully, "It's good to know someone's getting regular man-on- man sex, even if it's not me!"

"You're just 18, mate!" I laughed. "Plenty of time for that."

Satisfied he'd got that much off his chest before we reached the house, Scott changed the subject and for the remainder of the drive we talked about other things, including his need to make some sort of decision about whether to get a job or go to university, to get his parents off his back.

As we neared the town Ty and I had temporarily made home, I asked Scott what he fancied for dinner. He laughed and said he'd like the same meal I made the night I gave him the massage in my penthouse – T-bone steak, jacket potato with sour cream and cheese, and salad.

"You're such an Aussie!" I laughed as we pulled into the town's supermarket car park. "You wanna come in with me?"

"Nah," Scott replied. "I'll just stretch my legs."

Cruising the aisles picking up what I needed, I could see Scott outside, peering in the window of the surf shop across the road.

As I stood in the fruit and vegetable aisle, gently feeling avocadoes in the hope of finding a ripe one, I was greeted by a beaming Simon.

"Hey Mike!" he grinned. "I was wondering when you'd show up again. You needing a delivery?"

"Hey Simon," I replied, shaking his hand. "No, just grabbing a few things today, but I'll be doing a full shop sometime at the weekend. Will you be working?"

"Sure will," he smiled. "I'll be able to drop everything off for you. And Mike, I haven't said anything to anyone about ... you know!"

"Good man!" I smirked. "I knew you'd keep your word. I'm just gonna pay for this lot. Can you grab me a couple of six packs of Crown Lager and a bottle of Coldstream Hills white?"

I followed Simon to the liquor section and couldn't help but register that perfect ass as he bent to pick up the beers. Ah yes, I thought. If I was ever going to give Scott a taste of the wild side, there was the perfect starting point ...

Simon stood with me as I paid for the groceries, and he noticed as Scott and I waved to each other through the window.

"Who's that?" Simon asked, wide-eyed.

"That's Scott, Tyson's brother," I replied, as we picked everything up and exited the store. "He's just finished Year 12 and he's going to be spending part of his summer break at the house."

"Fuck, he doesn't half look like Tyson, eh?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "They're very similar, in lots of ways."

Scott was still window shopping across the street as Simon helped me load the groceries into the car. I noticed them discretely checking each other out.

"Thanks Simon," I said, again shaking his hand. "I'll be in at the weekend to arrange that delivery."

"OK Mike. See you then," he said as he strolled back into the store, watching from behind the supermarket's front window as Scott climbed into the passenger seat.

As we drove off, Scott asked as casually as he could, "Who was that?"

I smiled to myself. "That's Simon. He's holidaying here with his parents and working at the supermarket because he's bored. He delivered our groceries the first day we arrived."

"Does he know that it's Ty who's staying there with you?"

"Yeah, he does, but I swore him to secrecy. So far, he's kept his word. He's a good kid."

"How old is he?"

"Oh, about 20 I'd say," I replied. "I know he's older than 18 because he's got his driver's license."

"Speaking of driving," Scott said. "How about you let me drive from here to the house?"

"You don't have your license yet mate," I reminded him. "Can't take the chance."

"I've got my learner's permit though," he offered hopefully.

"Well, we'll pick you up some `L' plates at the weekend and then you'll be all legal!"

Scott slumped back in the seat. "Shit," he said. "Looks like I just have to wait for everything!"

He was smiling though, and I smiled back. "Everything in good time, mate!"

As we pulled into the driveway, I briefly saw Ty appear on the front balcony and then heard him as he bounded down the staircase several steps at a time, materializing beside the car before I'd even turned the engine off.

Scott jumped from the car and was immediately engulfed in a bear hug from Ty. The two embraced and slapped each other's backs, Ty kissing his brother's head and ruffling his hair. It was always a joy to witness the close bond between the Hill brothers, so natural was their interaction. The three of them were like pieces of a jigsaw, fitting together and completing the picture.

Ty smiled at me and mouthed "thanks" as he grabbed Scott's suitcases and led him upstairs to the main lounge. I unloaded the groceries and followed them in time to hear Scott's reaction to his new surroundings.

"Man! This place is awesome!" he exclaimed, looking around. "It's huge!"

"Mate, there's a pool room too," his big brother grinned. "And our own private beach!"

George suddenly appeared and beamingly welcomed Scott.

"Hey George," Scott began, offering a handshake. "It's great to see you. How did your operation go?"

"It was very successful, Mr. Hill," George replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Now you're in trouble, George!" I laughed. "Two Mr Hill's. You'll confuse us all, so I think it's gonna have to be `Scott' for pretty boy here!"

"Yes, it could be confusing," George mused. "I should be fully recovered by the time this break ends, Scott. And it's all thanks to Mr Hill and Mr Stewart."

"George," I cut in. "Let's put all this stuff away in the kitchen and fix some drinks. Mr. Hill, you can show the kid around the house and where he'll be sleeping."

George relieved me of some of my load and we headed for the kitchen while Ty and Scott started their reconnoiter.

We returned to the main lounge with trays of beer, wine, cheeses and dried fruit just as Ty and Scott came full circle.

"This place is like a palace!" Scott beamed. "The owners went a bit overboard with the white paint though!"

"Yeah," I laughed, "but you'll find it's very relaxing after a while. Nothing to distract you!"

We sat on the couches and tucked into George's late afternoon snack plate, while he busied himself unpacking Scott's suitcases and making his bedroom comfortable. Ty and Scott caught up on family news, and Scott filled us in on his final exam results. Inside that pretty head was clearly a working brain – a University Enter Score of 94 was further cause for celebration.

As evening drew near, I suggested that Ty take Scott for a walk along the beach, to properly enjoy the spectacular sunset.

"You're not coming?" Ty asked.

"No, mate," I replied. "I'm gonna help George with dinner."

The two brothers wandered down the staircase and on to the sand below as George and I set about preparing the meal. While George fired up the balcony barbeque, I seasoned four T- bones, wrapped four large potatoes in foil and put them in the oven. With spinach and rocket as our base, George helped me add avocado, mango, cucumber, feta and walnuts.

While George made from scratch his spectacular olive oil and seeded mustard dressing, I poured myself a wine and stood on the balcony. In the distance I could see the boys meandering along the sand, Ty with his arm protectively around his youngest brother's shoulder.

With the salad ready to go and the steaks sizzling on a slow heat, George joined me on the balcony and I poured him a wine. He too could see the Hill boys enjoying some private time together.

"They're very close, aren't they sir?" George commented.

"They certainly are, George," I replied. "I'd love to have had a brother and enjoyed that kind of mateship."

"He's a fine young man, Scott. And the resemblance between them is uncanny."

"Yep, Scott's just a younger version of Ty. And between them is Lachlan, whom you haven't met. He's in the Army and deployed in Afghanistan. He's a great bloke too, although with his military haircut he doesn't look so much like them."

"Scott certainly has it all `going on', as they say," George smiled. "He'll break a few hearts, I'm sure. He'll have the girls lining up."

"Um, about that, George," I replied, drawing breath before filling him in on Scott's recent revelation, and the reason for his visit ...

The steaks were almost done by the time Ty and Scott returned from their beach walk, and as George laid the table – for four, at my insistence – the boys grabbed beers and I served the salad and potatoes.

"Hey Mike!" chirped Scott. "This looks almost good enough to eat!"

"Good on ya, asshole," I laughed. "Some time during your stay George and I are gonna get you in the kitchen and teach you a few tricks. You need to know that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach!"

Without missing a beat, Scott shot back with "I'm not interested in a man's stomach, I've got my sights set a little lower" and was rewarded with a light slap across the back of the head from Ty.

The meal was great and the conversation relaxed and jovial. George cleared the table and asked Scott what else he'd like. Just like his brother, ice cream and chocolate sauce was his first choice for dessert.

"Nothing too challenging, George!" I smiled. "There's chocolate sauce in the fridge."

When we'd finished eating, George retired to the kitchen where he painstakingly hand washed and then dried every piece of crockery and cutlery. I'd reminded him earlier in the week that the kitchen had a state-of-the-art Miele dishwasher but George, as we already knew, was a stickler for the old ways. "Dishwashers always leave streaks, Mr Stewart," he deadpanned. "I don't."

While George prepared for the next morning, Ty, Scott and I sprawled out on the leather couches and watched a re-run of Harry Potter And The Half-Blood Prince' on cable. While I could take or leave J.K. Rowling, Ty and Scott were engrossed in the sixth installment of the Potter' series. As the credits finally rolled, Ty and I chuckled when we realised Scott had nodded off.

"Hey asshole, bedtime!" Ty laughed as he gently shook his brother. Scott woke, stretched and yawned and said, "Yeah, I'm knackered!"

Ty helped him to his feet and the two hugged. Scott then turned and gave me the same kind of brotherly hug. "Goodnight guys," he said, stifling another yawn.

"Have a good sleep, mate," I smiled.

George appeared with his usual question about breakfast.

"Juice, eggs and toast and coffee for us, at 8.30 thanks George," I responded. "Scott?"

"8.30? Are you kidding me?" he laughed. "That's the middle of the night!"

"Teenager alert, George!" I laughed.

"Maybe 9.30 for me if that's OK?", Scott asked hopefully. "And I'll have a bacon and egg sandwich and a Coke."

Ty jumped in with "Fresh orange juice for the kid, George. Coke is not on the breakfast menu."

George nodded and returned to the kitchen and as Scott made his way to his bedroom he turned in the doorway and said, "Hey guys, thanks. For everything."

Ty and I stayed seated on the couch for a few minutes, before Ty commented on the fact that it wasn't especially late.

"Yeah, but Scott's had a pretty full-on day," I reminded him. "I guess it means we can take advantage of an early night!"

Ty smirked and jumped to his feet. "Last one into bed gets fucked!" he laughed, but I cut him off with a request to sit down again, while I disappeared for a few moments.

I'd made a mental note when we arrived that our en suite had a huge crab-claw bath and was looking forward to us enjoying a soak together, and tonight seemed like the perfect time. I detoured to the kitchen to grab a packet of tea-lights candles, headed to our bedroom and drew a bath before illuminating the room with candlelight and loading the CD player with an instrumental jazz album Ty had packed in his luggage.

I returned to the lounge and lay on the couch with Ty, my head in his lap for 20 minutes, until the bath was ready.

"Give me five minutes," I said, as offhand as I could manage, "and then meet me in the bedroom."

"What're you up to?" he asked.

"Can't say too much," I smirk. "Let's just say you're a very dirty boy and it's time we did something about it!"

The bath ready, candles burning and thick, soft towels on hand, I stripped and waited. A couple of minutes later, Ty walked in, surprise registering on his face. "A bath?" he grinned. "Ace! Can't wait to tell Scott we've got a tub."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Mum and dad's place had an old cast iron bath when we were growing up," he explained, as he stripped his clothes. "We used to love it. It was big enough for me and Lachie and Scotty, so we'd all bathe together, and mum used to get me to wash Scotty's hair, because he wouldn't do it himself. Then, when they finally renovated, they got rid of the bath and we had a big shower. The three of us really missed having a good soak."

Naked, Ty's cock started to harden and he flashed me another of those goofy grins that made me melt. "After you," I said, as he slipped beneath the bubbles. I followed him and no sooner had my ass hit the bottom of the bath than his arms were around my neck and his soft, gentle mouth met mine. Another moment of true happiness for me; I could kiss this guy forever.

As our tongues danced their dance, his hand wrapped around my cock and his thumb rubbed my precum over the swollen head. My body was in immediate conflict; complete relaxation from the first bath I'd had in an age, and extreme excitement at having my guy handle those parts of me I'd reserved for him exclusively.

Still gently stroking my dick, Ty's other hand picked up a sponge and started soaping my chest, arms wrapped around me. He replaced the sponge with a loofah, reached around and scrubbed my back before turning his attentions to my shoulders and arms. I sank back into the tub, closed my eyes and gave in to the sumptuous luxury of being bathed.

Completely relaxed, I snaked my hand through the water, found Ty's thigh and moved upwards until I found his throbbing monster. I ran my fingers lightly up and down his pulsating shaft, delighting in the mewing sounds he made involuntarily every time I played with him like this.

As he continued to sponge my body, intermittently placing small kisses on my lips, I increased the tempo of my jacking. I opened my eyes and watched him, eyes closed, lips apart, his head leaning backwards, consumed by exquisite feelings. I pulled him closer to me and continued to pleasure him at the core of his manliness.

It wasn't long before I felt his prick swell in my hand and at the same time we looked down and watched in awe as the eye of his cock started spurting uncontrollable streams of male mayonnaise high into the air before splash-landing in the bath water. I wondered momentarily whether Scott or George had heard the loud moan that accompanied Ty's ejaculation.

Spent, Ty slumped against my chest. We clung to each other for a minute or two before I picked up the sponge and began to gently wash him, knowing his arousal would build again. We kissed, and with renewed energy, he pushed me away from him and used his arms to help me lift myself on to the edge of the tub. I'd barely settled before he wrapped his perfect mouth around my angry wood. He sucked slowly at first, smug in the knowledge that he could make me whimper. When he'd tortured me enough, he started to suck harder, his fingers massaging my relaxed and sagging balls.

All I wanted to do was lean back and revel in the moment. As happened often when I was completely relaxed, and Ty was either sucking my dick or burying his big boy boner deep inside me, the endorphin release triggered an emotional earthquake somewhere else deep inside, and I felt like I wanted to cry. What the fuck did I do right to be rewarded with someone this incredible?

I was sending a silent thank you to the cosmos when reality dragged me back into the moment and I was painfully aware that the troops had rallied and the charge was imminent. I made noises that matched Ty's earlier sexual symphony as I filled his mouth with cum.

Once the army was depleted, we both leaned forward, my head resting against the top of his head for, who knows how long? The water was getting cold when we finally pulled the plug and stepped onto the bathroom floor, both of us semi hard again. We dried each other and after a long, languid kiss Ty said "I love you", turned around and leaned over to brace himself on the vanity, thrusting his mouth-watering ass provocatively in front of me. "Fuck me" was all he said.

And did I what! Fuck the foreplay! I moved against him, grabbed his shoulders in my hands, and plunged into him in one fluid movement, my new reserve of precum making the trip a smooth one. I turned his head to its side, and kissed him with a force that almost alarmed me. How I wanted this guy.

The kiss broken, I started pumping his ass hard, my fingernails digging into his hips. Ty repeatedly slammed his ass back against the invasion, trying to take me as deep as he possibly could. Fixing my hands on the vanity for leverage, I gave him the very best I had to offer and we were both verbalising our pleasure. The tight ring that clutched at my steely cock was driving me rapidly towards the edge. What pushed me over was glancing in the mirror as Ty's male machine gun fired a copious round dead ahead, splattering forcefully against the bright white Villeroy & Boch basin.

I started to feel faint as my brain sent an urgent message to my balls that abandonment was a physical necessity. Noises I don't think I've ever made before escaped from my throat as I flooded his ass with my potent offering.

I held onto him and convulsed and as we came down from the high, I slipped out of Ty's ass as he turned and took me in his arms.

We eventually made our way to bed and sank, sated, under the sheets. As the CD came to an end, Ty positioned himself with his head on my chest, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulder.

The silence in the room was broken when Ty said suddenly, "You're quiet."

"I know," I said, truthfully. "I'm just thinking that I can never really find the right words to express what you mean to me."

Turning his head to look at me, he said, "You don't need words, Mike. Just love me."

"You never have to worry about that, mate" I said, as we settled in for the night

***********.

Once again I woke early, lying spooning with Ty and feeling comforted by his soothing and rhythmic breathing. In twilight sleep, I dared to dream of a future with this beautiful soul who'd so unexpectedly become part of my destiny.

My reverie was interrupted by George's prompt rap on our bedroom door and once I'd grunted, he opened the door and appeared, with his customary aplomb, the perfect tray prepared for breakfast. I shook Ty who mumbled, rolled over and tried hard to sleep more. I shook him again, he rolled back, opened his eyes and after focusing and orientating, managed a "Hey George!"

"Good morning Mr Hill," George replied with his usual cheerfulness. "Your breakfast is ready."

Slowly, Ty and I say up against our pillows and George handed us our tray. Like obedient school children in front of the teacher, we drank our juice and draped napkins across the laps we had hidden beneath the covers. George made his exit as we tucked in to our eggs on toast and satisfied our caffeine cravings.

Breakfast over, we lazed in bed reading the newspapers until the door opened again and Scott walked in, his bacon and egg sandwich and juice in hand.

"Hey!" he said in a sleepy voice. "Fuck it's early."

"It's 9.30, asshole," laughed his brother. "They call it mid-morning in the real world."

"Can I get in with you guys?" he asked.

"Sure" Ty said.

Scott used his free hand to fold back the sheet, before recoiling. "Ew!" he exclaimed. "You've both got nothing on!" They both looked at me.

"We're protesting the way silk worms are exploited to make silk underwear," I grinned. "We're very committed to the cause."

Scott chuckled and rolled his eyes, as I pulled back the sheet slightly. "If you're game, hop into the snake pit!"

Scott slid in beside me and started chomping on his sandwich, as Ty and I folded our newspapers and watched with fascination the joy on the teenager's face as he digested George's breakfast bonanza.

Once the beast was fed, we lay back and shot the shit for a while before Ty asked, "So, you wanna talk about stuff today?"

"Yeah," Scott replied, hesitantly. "But I think I wanna take a walk along the beach on my own for a while, just to get my thoughts together. This isn't easy y'know?"

I couldn't help myself. I reached out my arm and drew him to me. "We're here for you, mate," I said, as reassuringly as I could. "In your own time"

"Thanks Mike," he smiled. "I'm ready. Just gotta go take a few deep breaths and think about all the things I've never been able to say til now."

Ty leaned across us and ruffled his youngest brother's hair. "We've both been where you are now mate,' he said. "Like Mike says, in your own time."

"I'm gonna go for a walk and maybe we'll talk after lunch?"

"Done," I said. "Now you'd better go and get dressed, unless you wanna see two old naked guys hobbling to the bathroom."

Unexpectedly, Scott kissed me on the cheek. "I knew I was right about you!"

As Scott got out of bed, Ty joked in his best Monty Python accent, "He's not the Messiah, you know. He's a very naughty boy!"

By the time we'd all showered and dressed, the house became a hive of activity. Scott was preparing to go for his walk, George was banging around in the kitchen and Ty had headed for his makeshift music room and was gently strumming his guitar, practicing chords.

I made my way to the kitchen and spoke to George about our plans for the day, to all meet for lunch on the balcony, followed by our heart-to-heart with Scott.

"Steak and potatoes again, Mr Stewart?" George asked, a nod to Scott's fairly pedestrian tastes.

"Actually no, George," I smiled. I'm thinking of driving in to town to get what I need for you and me to come up with something a bit more upmarket than a barbeque."

"What did you have in mind sir?"

"I was thinking about it in the shower, George," I mused. "What do you think of a mezzo platter to start, with chorizo, saganaki, marinated mushrooms, olives, dolmades and chicken and beef skewers, with pita? That'll give him his meat fix. Then we'll hit him with asparagus risotto with egg yolk and truffled pecorino?"

"It sounds extraordinary, sir," George smiled. "You don't think it's a bit adventurous for young Scott though?"

"George," I chuckled. "If he's going to be a poof, then I'm making it my duty to make sure he's a cultured poof. Ty slipped through the cracks, but I reckon Scott's ripe for some gourmet grooming!"

"Is it something Mr. Hill would eat, sir?"

"Ty will eat anything we put in front of him, even if he doesn't know what it is," I chuckled. "He likes pretty much everything, it's just he doesn't know how to make it!"

"Very well sir," George replied. "I'll set the table on the balcony while you go shopping. I don't know that the supermarket will have everything you need but I did notice a small delicatessen when we drove through the town the day we arrived."

I told Ty what I was doing before heading off with my shopping list and wallet. I found much of what I needed in the supermarket and was pleased when Simon appeared, clearly glad to see me.

"Hey Mike," he said enthusiastically. "You need a delivery?"

"Not today, Simon. Just grabbing a few things again. But later in the week I'll organise a bigger order for you to bring over."

"Scott's not with you today?"

"No, he's gone for a walk. He's really enjoying the isolation so far, but I'm waiting for the boredom to set in!"

"Maybe he and I could hang out sometime? I could show him around the town maybe, or even give him some driving lessons? I've got my full license."

"That's a great idea, Simon. Where can I buy some `P' plates?"

"I've still got mine in the back of my car."

"Great mate, we'll talk about it when you deliver the grocery order on Saturday. By the way, is there anywhere around here I can buy chorizo? And saganaki and pecorino?"

"You'll get the chorizo and probably the pecorino at Grants, the deli on the corner. They probably wouldn't have saganaki, but there's a little Greek restaurant called Pelagos just off the main street, next to the post office. They're open for lunch today and they might sell you some. If not, you could always use Haloumi. Not quite as good, but passable. Just needs a bit longer in a hot pan with butter."

Ah Simon, I thought to myself, you're on my wavelength! I have plans for you! "Thanks mate," I said. "See you Saturday".

The deli had most of what I needed and indeed, my new best friend Theo from Pelagos was more than happy to sell me some fresh saganaki. I headed for home and George unpacked my groceries while I looked in the pantry for a suitable wine.

"What do you think of Pipers Brook chardonnay, George?" I asked.

"Excellent choice, sir," he replied. "It combines white peach and nectarine with squeezed lime juice and roasted almond notes, just a hint of cinnamon."

"I know I've said this before, George," I grinned, "if you were a hundred years younger ..."

While George took two bottles of Pipers Brook and put them in the fridge to chill, I poured a coffee from the percolator George always had bubbling away and opened the balcony doors. Walking outside I saw Scott in the distance, sitting by himself on the sand, his knees drawn up and gazing out to sea. For a moment I considered leaving the lunch preparation to George and joining Scott, but dismissed the idea. He clearly needed some time on his own.

My thoughts were interrupted by the very clear sound of Ty, strumming the opening chords of "Hallelujah", the song he'd so beautifully performed in the last concert of his recent tour. Moments later, that heavenly voice started singing from mid-song ...

"Maybe there's a God above/But all I've ever learned from love/Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya/It's not a cry you can hear at night/It's not someone who's seen the light/It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah ..."

As always, the sheer power of his crystal clear voice overwhelmed me, and the passion he injected into the lyric gave me goose bumps. Walking back through the kitchen, George remarked. "What a nice song, sir. I don't know it. It's not on Mr Hill's album."

"No George," I replied, "it's a Leonard Cohen song and Ty performed it in his last concert. He told me that his single biggest musical influence has been Leonard Cohen. He idolizes him."

I left George humming in the kitchen and wandered to the music room, standing unnoticed in the doorway as Ty, eyes closed and head pointed Heavenwards, continued ...

"Your faith was strong but you needed proof/You saw her bathing on the roof/Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya/She tied you to a kitchen chair/She broke your throne, and she cut your hair/And from your lips she drew Hallelujah/Hallelujah, Hallelujah ..."

Somehow aware he was not alone, Ty opened his eyes and looked at me. He smiled.

"Mate," I said. "You sing that so fucking beautifully. Why don't you record it?"

"I've thought about it," he replied. "But what's the point? The definitive version has already been done. I reckon it's the most beautiful song ever written and you just can't beat perfection. Plenty of people have tried, but nobody's come close."

"What makes it the most beautiful song ever written?"

Immediately, Ty became enthusiastic, having been given the chance to talk about music. "It's just so clever, Mike," he explained. "See, it's written in 12/8, which means it combines the basics of both waltz and gospel. It was originally written in the key of C major, and the chord progression follows the lyric – `it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, and the major lift'. So it's C, F, G, A minor and then F again."

When Ty looked up and saw the blank look on my face, he laughed. "You don't have a fucking clue what I just said, do you?"

"Not one iota," I grinned back. "I just love to hear you sing."

"Just my luck to finally fall in love and end up with someone who's tone deaf."

"Yeah, sorry about that!" I chuckled. "I've got a big dick though!"

"Yes, you do!" he laughed. "Hallelujah! ..."

I left Ty to his private world of minor falls and major lifts, and joined George in the kitchen where we set about pulling everything together for lunch. By midday, we had things pretty much ready to go and 15 minutes later, Scott suddenly appeared in the kitchen and announced he was starving.

"Lunch is almost ready," I assured him. "Can you go get Ty? We'll eat on the balcony."

"I was like a mile up the beach," Scott commented, "and I could clearly hear him singing `Hallelujah'. Fuck, that song did my head in when I was little. He used to sing it for like, hours on end. That, and every other fucking song Leonard Cohen wrote."

Scott noticed George's slight wince at the language and was immediately contrite. "Sorry, George," he apologised. "I used to get sent to my room for using bad language at home."

"No apology necessary, Scott," George assured him. "I know how young people talk these days. It just that it wasn't acceptable when I was your age."

As Scott moved to find his brother, he turned to George and grinned. "It's still not acceptable, George. And from now on, I promise, no more fucking swearing!"

He was out the door before the marinated mushroom I threw at him connected with his head; instead, it left its oily mark on the back of the kitchen door.

We were seated, white wine in hand, when George arrived with a perfectly presented mezzo platter.

"What the fuck's that?" asked Scott, before immediately turning to George and saying, "Sorry George, I mean `what on earth is this wondrous delight you've set before me?"

"It's a mezzo platter, Scott," George smiled. "In your language, it's a bit of foreign this, and a bit of foreign that."

Ty chuckled and slapped Scott on the back on his head. "You've gotta mind your language, asshole. I don't know where the fuck you get your bad habits from!"

George rolled his eyes. "Young people," he muttered, as he shuffled back to the kitchen.

Lunch was fun. Once Scott got his head around the items on the platter, he was willing – like his brother – to give it a go. It was a thumbs up for the chorizo ("it's a bit like cabana" was Scott's observation) and also for the meat skewers, saganaki and mushrooms, but thumbs down for the olives ("they're OK on a pizza, maybe", according to Ty). And ambivalence from both of them towards the dolmades. All things considered, I was pleased. And I managed to show Scott how to eat each item correctly, without him having any sense of being patronised.

He even managed to send me up, without my realising it at first. Before we ate, he picked up his cloth napkin, shook it, and stuck the corner of it in the collar of his tee-shirt. He saw the shocked look on my face and he and Ty cracked up.

"Just shittin' ya, Mike," he cackled. "Of course, the napkin goes across your lap. And that's good because it can disguise the fact that some hottie is feeling you up under the table. Like, I'd be so lucky!"

It was my turn to reach over and slap the back of his head. "Asshole!"

We all enjoyed the asparagus risotto, just as much as we enjoyed the look on George's face when he put the dish in front of Scott, who announced "asparagus makes my piss smell!"

While George cleared up our lunch dishes, we retired with a second bottle of wine to the main lounge, all sitting comfortably on separate leather couches. We chatted about nothing in a particular for a while, before I realized that the idle chat was masking uncertainty on both Ty and Scott's part about who should talk about the elephant in the room. It was time for me to break the ice again.

"Ok Scott," I started. "We've heard a rumor that perhaps you might be `one of those', and we're both here to rescue your soul, and save you from a life of guilt, abject misery and expensive moisturizer. If that doesn't work, we're here to make you really understand that anything below a 1000 thread count in Egyptian cotton sheets is not acceptable, that porcini is mushroom and not an operatic composer, and that gravy is not a beverage!"

Ty started to laugh. "You fuckin' kill me, mate!"

"Language, Ty!" I admonished. "Scott, seriously, what I really want to say is that Ty and I are here for you. We love you, mate. We want you to be happy. So let's just throw all the cards on the table and see what hand we end up at the end of it all."

I was expecting some sort of smartass reply, and I was thrown completely off-guard when Scott burst into tears. In a flash, Ty jumped up and sat next to him, dragging him into a tight embrace, stroking his back and kissing his head. "I love you Scotty, and I've been where you are right now. I understand. And so does Mike," he said as Scott blubbered into his shoulder.

"I've bottled this up for so long," he sobbed.

I leaned forward and said gently, "It's time to pull the cork, mate. Let's open that bottle of 2011 Complete Honesty."

For the next three hours, Scott poured his heart out. We listened as he described his dismay at realizing he was thinking about guys. About his sexual experiences with girls and how, when he started having sexual thoughts about males, he tried all that much harder to prove he was straight by notching up female conquests.

His roll call was impressive. For a small country town boy, he'd managed to dip his wick more times by 18 than Ty and I had managed to date. He publicly rejoiced in his peer group perception that he was a "root rat" but privately hated himself for jerking off thinking about his mates.

When our discussion touched on guilt, he lost it again and this time, it was me who held him while he cried it out. There were moments, I knew, when Ty was having trouble coping himself, but I let him deal with the déjà vu in his own way. This was about Scott.

A much-needed light moment came when Scott mentioned a girl he'd had sex with named Kat.

"You nailed Kat Watson?" Ty asked incredulously.

"Yeah, in Year 10."

"Well, fuck me" Ty laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I fucked her sister!"

"Ellen? That stuck-up princess? You're shittin' me?"

"No, it was the Year 11 formal," Ty recounted. "We managed to slip outside and we were making out up against the toilet block, out of sight of everyone. Things got a bit hot and we ended up going at it, standing up, her with her pants around her knees and me with my dick sticking out of my black pants! It was all over in about a minute and a half, and the awful memory I have of that night was being back inside for the bit where everyone lined up and thanked the teachers, and realizing that Ellen had my cum on her nice shiny patent leather shoes!"

It was a light enough moment for me to wind up the talk, sensing that we'd probably covered enough for one day. I suggested that before the sun set, the boys might like to have a swim, while George and I thought about dinner.

"McDonalds?" Scott asked hopefully.

"In your dreams, gay boy!" I laughed. "You'll thank me one day for the culinary journey I'm taking you on ..."

As I stood on the balcony, it was hard to walk away from the sight of Ty and Scott in the surf, rough-housing, splashing each other and, every now and again, giving each other a quick squeeze. I pondered momentarily the pity that Lachlan wasn't here with us, to be part of this significant step in life of the youngest Hill boy.

I joined George in the kitchen. We needed to keep it simple after such a filling lunch, and we only had a choice of what I'd bought earlier. Together George and I settled on Marinara Linguine with scallops, prawns, olive oil, garlic and basil. George had located a Crème Brulee torch in the utensils drawer (God bless rich people!) so we agreed on a banana Crème Brulée with macadamia shortbread.

Everything was ready by the time the boys returned from their swim, and George rather niftily headed them off at the balcony door, handing them towels to dry themselves before they traipsed water and sand through the house.

While George and I re-laid the table, Ty and Scott had showers and emerged just in time to be served their linguine. It was, at best, well ... perfect! I'd made it many times before, but there was something George somehow brought to every dish that made it better every time. Likewise, the Crème Brulee. George was proving himself a dark horse, a gourmet chef in Concierge clothing. .

By the time we'd had coffee, the yawning had started. We all agreed it had been a big day, and it was time to say goodnight. Ty and I both spent a private moment with Scott, congratulating him on the steps he was taking and encouraging him to really spill his guts while we were all together in such a relaxed frame of mind.

I could tell Ty was drained. As much as I wanted to jump his bones, I knew he needed sleep so when we slipped naked under the sheets, I maneuvered Ty on to his side and cuddled up in a spooning position behind him. My left arm was under his neck, allowing me to run my fingers softly through his hair. My right hand made gentle circles on his hairy chest, and I could feel him relax even further.

No words were needed; touch was expressing everything we needed to say. Every now and again I would kiss the back of Ty's neck as my hand massaged his chest, my fingers occasionally gliding over his nipples, extracting a soft sigh each time.

Our room was silent but for our mutual relaxed breathing and in the distance, I could hear waves lapping the shore of our private beach. Gradually, my hand moved in soothing circles down across Ty's abdomen and I smiled in the dark when I realised that his cock, flaccid when we climbed into bed, was now completely stiff and bumping against the back of my hand.

I slid my hand lower until my fingers found the tangle of wiry black hair and I lazily scratched him. He moaned softly.

Further down my hand travelled, until they found the sagging flesh of his generous scrotum and my fingers lightly drummed the orbs that hung heavily inside it. Another moan. My hand encircled his sac and very tenderly I held his love spuds, bouncing them and moving them around in my palm. The moan was louder this time.

My fingers moved under his ballbag and rubbed against his root muscle, probing the base of his throbbing shaft in circular motions. I had him in erotic limbo, probing the base of his mushroom-tipped man sword but not yet circling the trunk.

It was time to give him what he wanted. I gauged the thickness of his now fully hard shaft between two fingers, the width equal to almost three fingers. No two ways about it, my guy was hung! His penis, like the rest of him, was solid, sturdy and strong.

As he leaned his head back into my shoulder, I encircled his shiny flesh helmet with my thumb and forefinger, and massaged the loose, nervy skin that skirted the flange of the head. Ty's dick twitched impatiently in my hand and, much as I was enjoying the laziness of my exploration, he was letting me know he needed to unload.

Slowly and tenderly I started to stroke him, the first upward glide eliciting a visceral and very vocal reaction. I increased the pressure slightly and as my hand reached his helmet, I lightly twisted him and felt him shudder. My hand travelled slowly back down his shaft, and for a brief moment, cupped his sperm-tanks.

I continued my stroking, slow and easy, and Ty's breathing became more intense. For a brief time I concentrated my strokes on the upper half of the cock, before grasping the base and working the neck of his man meat with alternating strokes and squeezes.

All good things eventually come to an end, and as I quickened the pace of my jacking, Ty's legs started to tense and I could tell he was clenching his toes. On each downward stoke, my little finger bumped his sac, which had tightened in readiness for his imminent release.

Suddenly, he was into the home stretch and I started to jack him with long, firm strokes, making sure on each upstroke, my thumb and forefinger stimulated the nerve endings under the head at the split.

He let out a low, animalistic growl as his cock swelled in my hand and I could feel the rush of semen as it raced from his balls, through his shaft and left his body through the eye of his cock. For a guy who'd shot his white ecstasy all over the porcelain of the bathroom vanity only the night before, he was certainly loaded. He discharged his seed in a series of long spurts which splattered against the crisp white sheets like liquid confetti.

Finally drained, he slumped back against me, and I peppered his neck with little kisses, my hand still holding his dick, the last trickles of his ejaculate running down my fingers. This was one time I wasn't anticipating any post-orgasmic intimacy.

I wanted Ty to sleep. And he did. I rolled on to my back and even in slumber, he automatically moved himself in our usual position.

I closed my eyes, sent my usual silent thanks to whoever it was pulling the strings that enabled me to experience this kind of happiness, and prayed that with our help and support, Scott would find his feet and that the journey ahead would be a happy one for him ...

Always happy to have your feedback. marcusis32@live.com.au