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Author Intro: My name is Casual, and I'm, first and foremost, a storyteller. I write about erotic, sensual, sexual, and emotional connections between gay men. Although grounded in reality, my stories are still fantasies, not meant to promote or glorify any sexual practices. I can go from romantic, sweet, uplifting to rough and edgy. If you wish to be taken on wild, exhilarating, magical, and sensual adventures, my imagination is the place for you.
Chapter 6 - "You Just Haven't Earned It Yet, Baby"
Oliver's naked body lay in bed, exhausted over the crumpled sheets from the intense lovemaking that had taken place during the last few days. Niko's room had become their world; their souls and bodies merged so tightly that neither could tell where one ended and the other began. Everything felt perfect, as if it were meant to be, and Oliver could hardly see a life beyond the boundaries of Niko's arms and the walls of that space. It had been a week since the blonde fled the hotel, and as far as he was concerned, he had no intention of returning. He had, however, been meeting with Jason and Sophia, using them to keep Rafaella up to speed on his well-being. But Oliver's mind seemed bothered by a lingering foreboding feeling since their last visit.
"What's wrong?" Niko questioned, his naked body sitting near the small desk next to the window, one leg up as his bloated cock dangled over the edge of the chair. It was still dripping cum from having just been inside Oliver for the third time that morning. "You've been sulking since yesterday," the stud scrutinized.
Oliver, who lay across the bed, facing the ceiling, rolled over. His eyes locked on his lover, whose harboring smile immediately offered the boy serenity.
"My mom...she hasn't been feeling well," the blonde conveyed, his heart's tribulations wholly exposed to the stud.
"We can go see her if you want?" the hunk suggested without hesitation. By now, Niko knew that Oliver's relationship with his mother was, besides their own, the most significant connection in his life.
"I don't want to meet him," Oliver muttered, visibly peeved. "Besides, she won't say anything to me," he stated.
"Why not?" Niko asked patiently.
"Because they still treat me like I'm some fucking fragile thing that can't handle whatever it is they're hiding...and they're hiding something," Oliver mumbled, his eyes wandering over to the window.
"Hey, look at me," Niko instructed gently, prompting the boy's eyes back on him. "I'm sure it's nothing you need to worry about. She'd tell you if it was serious," the stud reiterated, smiling.
"I suppose..." Oliver mumbled, his lips laboring to move. Suddenly, his eyes locked on Niko, whose magical smirk immediately pulled Oliver out of his stupor. "I think I need a couple minutes," Oliver whispered, his lips stretching as he chuckled, burying his head on his pillow in the most adorable way as he caught Niko's cock slowly lifting again between his muscular legs.
But as their gaze tarried, Oliver began to squint, noticing how Niko's eyes seemed to meander around his body, awe and wonder taking hold of them. It was as if, in place of lust and sexual desire, an admiration and ethereal contemplation rose. The stud's arm stretched sideways, his hand sliding delicately inside one of the desk's drawers. He pulled out an old, analogic camera, slowly took it up, aiming his eye at the viewfinder and letting his finger hover over the indicator as he gently adjusted the focusing ring.
"What are you doing?" Oliver moaned, his body stretching as his eyes teased Niko from under the pillow.
"Making sure I have proof," the stud explained as he snapped shot after shot, tugging the film advance lever with his thumb between each one.
"Of what?" Oliver mumbled, his body now unconsciously modeling for the camera. Behind it, Niko smiled, his soul beaming. There was a brief silence, where only the camera sounds could be heard, before Niko's voice finally punctured from under it.
"That this wasn't a dream," the stud whispered. His voice was so faint it almost felt like he purposely wanted to conceal his words. Oliver's playfulness stopped abruptly, his turquoise gaze locked on the stud.
"Sounds like you're saying goodbye," the boy remarked. Niko chuckled, slowly bringing the camera down. His emerald jewels blinked slowly, enamored by the boy's astute nature.
"I'm always saying goodbye..." the hunk whispered to himself again.
"Hey...come here," Oliver beckoned, his hand stretching outwards.
Niko placed the camera on the desk and stood up, walking over to the edge of the bed and kneeling next to it, crossing his arms and putting his chin over them, eyes gazing up at Oliver. They didn't say anything to each other, but at that moment, Oliver realized that Niko had been saying goodbye to him every day since they met. The way he touched him, the way he looked at him, the way he cared for his body and fed his spirit came layered with a desperate yearning for something already lost. Niko lived their love like every moment was their last.
"I just..." the stud stuttered, a profound sense of inevitably hijacking his every breath.
Oliver wanted to say something. Anything that would pluck the despair flooding Niko's beautiful green ocean. But he couldn't. So he leaned forward and kissed the stud passionately, their tongues entirely at ease with each other, melting into an effortless, lustful choreography. And slowly, Niko dove into Oliver, their bodies merging over the sheets. And once again, their consciousness drifted off, and they forgot about the world, surrendering to their love.
Niko's lips detached from Oliver's mouth and began sliding down the boy's smooth chest, his tongue gliding along his stomach, teasing his belly button and stopping over his abdomen. The hunk's nose lingered there, sniffing his lover's blonde bush, taking in its alluring scent, which now reeked of both their cums mixed together. Niko smiled and began licking the blonde's rock-hard pink shaft that stretched proudly under his beard.
"Oh..." the boy moaned, slightly surprised. "That's...new," he added teasingly.
"You said you needed a breather," Niko groaned, his words muffled as his plump lips nibbled on Oliver's delicate foreskin. "So, just lay back and relax," the stud instructed, pulling the boy's cock up, dragging his skin back, and diving his mouth down on it.
Oliver's chin dropped, his eyes glazing with pleasure. His head fell back, eyes on the ceiling, bawling in rapture as he felt the warmth of Niko's mouth wrapped around his cock for the first time. It was indescribable. Like a warm, humid silk towel clutched around it, hugging it slowly as it moved up and down. Niko's tongue moved gracefully along, gliding over the base, the stud's controlled breath spewing from his nose. Oliver was immediately overwhelmed, his toes curling and his leg muscles tensing in eros as his thighs shivered slightly.
"Fuck..." he moaned.
But Niko didn't respond. He seemed too enthralled by the boy's cock, eager to milk his savory juice, whose scent he knew so well but whose taste he hadn't had the pleasure to experience in its fullness. He began to speed up, his luscious lips stretching thin as he moved up and down, sucking on Oliver's perfectly shaped pink dick, and he could feel it tingling every time his tongue grazed the boy's perineal gland. He pulled his mouth out and started wiggling the tip over it, teasing it before diving back in. And each time he did, he gripped his mouth even tighter around it, embracing the boy's cock with determined yet gentle energy. And soon, there wasn't a single inch of Oliver's cock who wasn't being worshiped. Niko was in the zone, making sure his lover experienced the joys of a good blowjob. What the boy didn't know was that Niko's mouth had never touched another man's dick. Oliver was his first.
The boy's head came up, his blue eyes barely able to keep themselves open, and he gazed at Niko, who looked positively beaming. The stud looked up at the boy, his head bobbing up and down, glazing the blonde's shaft with his spit. Their intimacy was now peeking. It wasn't long before Oliver locked on Niko. Inside the stud's eyes, he saw how, strangely and beautifully, Niko was gifting Oliver with a piece of his virginity, of his innocence. Just like he had taken a part of Oliver with him, a part of him now belonged to the boy, too.
"Niko...I'm..." Oliver announced, his head quivering as he stared at Niko's eyes closing in delight before the first strings of thick cum fired inside the stud's mouth. "Shit...fuck..." the boy moaned, his eyes barely opened, desperately holding on to the mesmerizing image of Niko's usually powerful and dominant figure now submissively swallowing every drop of his batter, moaning as he did.
The more Oliver wept in pleasure, the more Niko responded, gliding his tongue over the now-sensitive pink skin. He could feel the hunk's throat moving and see his Adam's apple sliding up and down as he swallowed every drop, finally skating his lips out slowly.
"Damn...that was a mouth full," Niko playfully teased, smiling. His beautiful white teeth emerged, the corners of his mouth still flushed, and his thick beard soaked and dripping with Oliver's cum. "Well?" he questioned.
Oliver's mouth, which had been open the entire time, finally closed. The boy swallowed dry before finally speaking.
"Yeah...I definitely wanna try that again..." the boy stuttered before letting his head fall back, chuckling with pure joy and overwhelming bliss.
Niko crawled up and brought his lips to Oliver's. He kissed the boy, allowing him to taste himself. So Olive did, then paused, his lips slowly stretching into a grin. Niko lay his head on the blonde's soft chest and exhaled. If there were a heaven, this would certainly be it, Oliver thought. Then his eyes closed, and he fell into a deep and peaceful slumber.
Later that day, the sky over Paros was an unblemished canvas of cerulean blue, the late afternoon sun casting golden rays over the whitewashed small-scale houses and winding cobblestone streets. Oliver's lingering uneasiness, however, was a stark contrast to the day's beauty. He sat on the edge of the bed in the small room, twisting his fingers together as he gazed out the window. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of intense passion and discovery, a rupture in time that had allowed him to gaze at what a future could look like for him and Niko. The stud lay in bed, his eyes watching over Oliver's unease. He rose and sat behind him, wrapping his comforting naked body around the boy.
"Let's just stay in bed today and fuck our brains out," he teased gently, his whispering voice adding a lilting softness to his words. Oliver took a deep breath, tipping into Niko's embrace.
"What have we been doing for the past week?" Oliver replied, chuckling. He melted into Niko's muscular chest, now the most unassailable place in his life.
"It's not my fault you're so fucking irresistible," the stud taunted as he began to kiss Oliver's neck, his tongue teasing the boy's soft skin.
"Sophia and Jason are meeting us downtown tonight. Is that okay?" Oliver asked. Niko nodded, understanding and empathy etched into his features. The stud knew Oliver's melancholy might benefit from mingling a bit. Oliver smiled, grateful for his lover's steadfast support. "Niko...I might drop by the hotel to see my mother tomorrow morning," the boy announced, his skin prickling as the stud continued to kiss his neck and shoulders. "And I want you to come with me," he added.
"Sure," Niko replied without hesitation.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the villa, Oliver and Niko made their way to the cozy downtown taverna near the waterfront, where Oliver had danced the night they first made love. It had now become their usual spot. It stood at the edge of the beach, its doors wide open to the balmy night air as the thumping beat of music spilled out into the street, inviting inside anyone daring enough to let their spirit roam free. Twinkling fairy lights adorned the entrance, and a large, welcoming bouncer nodded them through with a smile, their presence now widely regarded as paramount. The warm air inside was filled with laughter and clinking glasses, and the salty scent of the sea mingled with the aroma of grilled seafood and fresh herbs being served at the tables around the open-air dancefloor. Inside the bar was a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Neon lights flickered in time with the music, casting a playful glow over the dancing crowd. The air was thick with the scent of citrus and sea salt, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the patrons. Oliver felt a surge of excitement, gripping Niko, whose hand was already greedily crawling inside his blouse, gently brushing his soft lower back. Sophia spotted them first as they came in, waving enthusiastically from a corner table. Jason's perpetual smile greeted them soon after.
"Ollie! Over here!" she hollered, her arm raised in the air.
Niko and Oliver settled at the table, the four ordering a round of "ouzo" and "mezes" to get things going. Conversation flowed easily, the familiar camaraderie offering a temporary reprieve to Oliver's worries. About twenty minutes later, they were all pretty drunk, laughing and taking the piss at each other like only close friends would.
"Truth or dare?" Jason hollered at the table, his voice hovering over the commotion around them. His chestnut eyes turned to Oliver.
"Truth," Oliver replied, taking a sip of his drink.
"Did you ever make out with Sophia?" Jason questioned, forcing Oliver and his cousin's eyes to meet. They lingered in a brief silence. "Dude, really?" he added, visibly surprised.
"Just once. We had just seen Dirty Dancing," Oliver quipped, smiling as his blue eyes stared at Sophia.
"And...?" Jason drilled, seemingly aroused.
"It was weird," Sophia replied, her face shrugging. "Like...kissing a brother," she explained, turning to Jason, whose chin sunk slightly.
"Truth or dare?" Niko questioned, his glinting green eyes locked on Sophia.
"Truth. I'm too tired for dares today," Sophia said.
"Have you two fucked yet?" Niko taunted, throwing the question over the table at a visibly stunned Jason as his eyes darted between the young man and Sophia. Oliver's inebriated head fell over the stud's shoulder, his chuckles bursting from underneath.
"Niko, that's a personal quest..." Sophia stated with a feigning coyness.
"No," Jason interrupted, his bluntness propelling the four friends to laugh hysterically.
"I tried to sneak into your room the other night, but my mom caught me just as I was walking out the service stairs door," Sophia admitted as she stared at Oliver.
"Nothing gets past Aunt Chi," the blonde conveyed, his sweet tone unable to coil the couple's visible exasperation.
"She's vicious, dude. My dick is like a leaking spout," Jason grunted with frustration. Niko and Oliver looked at each other, sharing a complicit gaze as their lips grinned. Perched on the edge of her seat, Sophia leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Alright, Ollie. Truth or dare?" she uttered. Oliver, sprawled comfortably in front of her, considered for a moment.
"Dare," he finally said, a grin spreading across his face. Sophia's smile grew wider, a hint of challenge in her eyes.
"I dare you to kiss Jason," she said.
The table fell silent for a moment, everyone exchanging surprised glances. Jason's eyes widened, amusement and slight discomfort crossing his face. Sophia's eyebrows tightened, and a small smile played on her lips. Caught off guard, Oliver felt a sudden adrenaline rush, his fearless nature quickly gaining ground. He glanced at Jason, who shrugged with his usual good-natured smile.
"A dare's a dare, right?" Jason muttered, shrugging. Oliver chuckled and turned his eyes to Sophia. "You're really pushing it, aren't you?" the blonde whispered, razzing his cousin's challenge. Sophia blinked, her smile unwavering.
"You said dare," she provoked.
Oliver took a deep breath, the room watching in rapt anticipation. He stood up and walked over to Jason, who leaned back on his chair, bracing himself. The blonde, in an unscripted move, slid his ass down and sat on Jason's lap, wrapping his arms around his friend.
"Alright, let's get this over with," Jason said with a stuttering laugh, his voice laboring to come off as nonchalant, yet under it, an apparent trepidation.
Oliver leaned in, his soft, plump red lips gently coasting over Jason's. He could feel the young stud holding his breath, expecting it to be nothing more than a soft peck. But Oliver lingered, feeling bold and daring, and his fresh, alluring, and intoxicating breath began to spew into Jason's mouth. Slowly but surely, the young man's lips started to part, allowing Oliver's tongue to slide inside unannounced. The uproar around them became muffled, and Jason's chest exhaled. Next to them on the table, Niko's emerald eyes gazed, fascinated, watching Jason's lips slowly engulf the blonde's mouth. As Niko's eyes descended, he could see the straight stud's indiscriminate hands slowly crawling up Oliver's waist, sliding inside his blouse. Oliver pulled away, a soft gasp breaking from inside their locked lips, and as their mouths lingered inches apart, a string of spit still connected them.
"Well...that was..." Jason stuttered, his cheeks slightly flushed. Under him, Oliver could feel Jason's stiff cock, rubbing against his ass. The blonde grinned and took his lips to his friend's ears.
"Don't worry. I promise I won't tell," he whispered, pulling back and winking. Niko pulled Oliver back into his lap, wrapping his muscular arm around the boy's shoulders.
"That was fucking hot," he whispered in Oliver's ear, his breath warm against the blonde's skin.
Suddenly, a familiar voice hollered from the bar's entrance.
"Americano!" Amal called. Oliver's eyes lifted, and he smiled. Two young men followed her, walking over to them. Niko glanced from under Oliver's armpit, immediately recognizing one of them. The same guy that had set his eyes on Oliver on his first night there. "Ollie, give Amal hug!" she demanded, opening her arms wide. The boy pulled up and squeezed inside her. The taller, cocky friend scanned the blonde beauty from top to bottom, his eyes undressing every inch of the boy's magnificence.
"I'm Dimitri. Dimi," he announced, stretching his hand. As Oliver did the same, Dimi grabbed it and yanked the blonde into him, forcing their bodies to bump. Niko's emerald stones trembled with rage. Oliver chuckled nervously, his uniquely pleasurable breath inadvertently spewing into the tall stud's mouth, feeling the odor of his clothes, reeking of cigarettes. "So, you let Americano dance with Dimi tonight?" he abruptly questioned, focusing on Niko, who leaned his massive back on his chair, legs spread.
Amal's eyes began to dart between Niko and Dimi, her expression shifting slightly. Oliver slowly turned his head, gazing at Niko, who smiled.
"He's not my property, Dimi. It's his call," Niko announced, not even addressing the tall hunk, his eyes solely on Oliver, who frowned. For some reason, Niko's comment rubbed him the wrong way, so he turned his head and faced Dimi, his blue pearls teasing the tall hunk.
"Sure," Oliver replied, prompting the most astonished smile on Dimitri's face.
"Yes!" the tall cutie hollered. "Dimi finally get most beautiful boy!" he added, exuding an endearing quality.
Suddenly, a familiar song began to play on the jukebox. Oliver's eyes gaped in joyful surprise.
"Fuck, I love this song!" he hollered excitedly, his body turning to Niko. "Come on," he invited, his blue gaze taunting the stud.
"Warm up for me. I'll be there in a few..." the stud replied, smiling. Oliver smiled back and stretched his arm, brushing his hand over Niko's cheek. The stud grabbed his wrist and pulled Oliver in, a strange yet erotic aggressiveness to his movement. "If he so much touches you funny, I'll punch his fucking nose in," the stud whispered, kissing Oliver's lips, his teeth biting on them.
There it was. Exactly what Oliver wanted to hear. Niko was his man, and he was Niko's. He beamed and grabbed Dimitri's hand, dragging the stud to the dance floor, a crowd forming around them.
(music playing on the dancefloor) "If you're wondering why All the love that you long for eludes you And people are rude and cruel to you I'll tell you why I'll tell you why I'll tell you why I'll tell you why"
"I'm not even kidding, Sophia. If you don't fuck me soon, I'll definitely turn gay," Jason joked, his eyes still locked on Oliver. Sophia chuckled, clutching his hand and pulling him up, dragging her boyfriend across the room as they joined Oliver, their smiles wide and their spirits high. They linked arms, dancing and shouting along with the music. The rhythm was infectious, their bodies celebrating their youthfulness and their freedom. Where only the love they felt and the bonds they shared mattered.
And in the distance, his green ocean looming over Oliver's majestic body moving, Niko tended. But his eyes were changing, and a strange gloom was taking hold.
(music playing on the dancefloor) "You just haven't earned it yet, Baby You must suffer and cry for a longer time You just haven't earned it yet, Baby And I'm telling you now"
Amal approached Niko from the back, slowly wrapping her arms around her friend's neck and leaning into him. Niko's hands came up, tenderly landing on her arms.
"Soon or late, Americano will leave...Ti tha káneis me óli aftí tin agápi?" she questioned, tapping Niko's chest just over his heart, kissing her best friend's cheek, and wandering over to the group who now dominated the dancefloor. Niko's eyes followed Amal, her words numbing his spirit, and he lingered there, watching Oliver's body dance for him in slow motion, the boy's turquoise gaze making love to the stud across the venue.
Even from a distance, inebriated by his joyous beat, Oliver sensed his lover's emotion. The string of their bond was perpetually unsevered, and their souls spoke to each other, words melting into thoughts.
(music playing on the dancefloor) "Today I am remembering the time When they pulled me back And held me down And looked me in the eyes and said You must stay on your own for slightly longer You just haven't earned it yet, Baby And I'm telling you now"
And just as Oliver began to relax into Niko's emerald pool, feeling the warmth of the evening and the comfort of his loved ones, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar figure stepping into the bar, moving cautiously among the crowd. It was Uncle Nate. His usually cheerful demeanor was replaced with a somber expression, immediately setting Oliver on edge. He slowly approached the edge of the stage, eyes meeting Oliver's with urgency and distress. The room closed around Niko, who watched, eyes glistening as his lover's expression shifted, the boy's happiness eclipsing into pitch darkness. Beside them, Sophia and Jason exchanged worried glances.
A few minutes later, outside, under the soft glow of the taverna's lanterns, Nate took a deep breath and finally faced the group.
"Your mom...she's been taken to the hospital. It looks serious. Your dad asked me to come get you," Nate explained, his voice struggling to come across as calm and collected. But to no avail. Oliver's heart was plummeting fast.
"...what do you mean serious?" the boy's voice stuttered. His hand gripped Niko's so tight that the stud flinched, feeling his knuckles being crushed. Nate shook his head, his eyes filled with concern.
"We don't know yet. She collapsed at the hotel this afternoon," he informed. The world spun around Oliver as he felt Niko's touch attempting to ground him.
"I need to go to her," Oliver mumbled, his eyes drifting into nothingness. Sophia stepped forward.
"We'll all go," she added, her hand landing softly over her cousin's trembling shoulder.
Within minutes, they were in a cab, speeding towards the hospital. The journey there was a blur of headlights and worried silence, with Oliver clinging to Niko's hand, his mind racing with fear and unanswered questions. They rushed to the hospital's reception desk, where a nurse waited for them, eventually guiding the group through sterile corridors as the antiseptic smell of the hospital loaded their nostrils. When they reached the ICU, Oliver immediately spotted John sitting outside Rafaella's room. His body was leaning forward, hands holding his concealed face, but under it, the boy could see his father's usually stern expression carved with fear.
And as they waited for the inevitable news, John's neck didn't raise an inch. The small waiting room fell silent, each person grappling with their fears and uncertainties. Niko retook Oliver's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Everything suddenly felt dark and breathless, the antithesis of the warmth and brilliance of the last few days. And time slowly began to perish in a haze of worry and waiting. Doctors and nurses moved in and out of Rafaella's room, their faces a mixture of calm professionalism and quiet urgency. Oliver, Niko, and the others remained in the waiting area, the tension stale in the air. Finally, a doctor approached them with a somber yet kind expression.
"Mr. Preston," he stated with a thick, greek accent, finally forcing John's head to lift, revealing his bloated eyes. Then, the doctor looked at Oliver and the rest of the family. "We have the results. It's stage IV breast cancer," the doctor informed. Oliver's eyes filled with tears, his body stumbling back. "Unfortunately, it has spread and metastasized to her liver and lungs," he continued each word a fatal blow to Oliver's heart and the hearts of everyone listening. "I could suggest a course of treatment, but..." the doctor stumbled, a sense of hopelessness taking hold of his stoic expression. "Given your situation, perhaps it might be best to arrange to have Mrs. Preston flown back home as soon as possible...?" he whispered to John, whose eyes darted up.
"I understand," he muttered before falling back on his chair, his head turning as he attempted to conceal his shivering lips.
As the doctor walked away, the room fell into an insidious silence, words seemingly meaningless. Slowly, the group dispersed, leaving Oliver alone with John. The boy lingered there for a while, eventually succumbing to his empathy as he felt John's suffering oozing from his every skin pore. Oliver knew John loved his Rafaella just as much as he did, and despite everything, her illness now seemed more significant than any of their differences. He sat next to John, and before he knew it, his hand was crawling up his father's back, coasting gently on the grieving man's shoulder. From the end of the corridor, Niko watched, eyes glistened, as John's hand crawled up and grabbed Oliver's. He never raised his head from under his shoulders. But there, amid their shared tragedy, John finally put his pride aside and opened his heart to his son.
Making sure Oliver didn't notice, Niko turned around and left.
A few hours later, a nurse entered the waiting room and announced Rafaella would finally take visitors. Oliver stood up and walked over to the bedroom door, opening it slowly. Inside, his mother lay on the bed, her face obscured under the dim lights as she gazed at the window. But as the boy slowly approached her bed, she turned, and her tired expression immediately lit up. She smiled, her lips hanging open.
"You're upset, I can tell," she teased, trying to make light of the situation.
"I'm not upset," the boy muttered, teeth clenched. Rafaella smiled and lifted her hand strenuously, calling her son to the bed. Oliver hesitated momentarily, but his love for his mother was stronger than his pride. He walked over and slid into the bed, nestling in and laying his head next to her. She rolled over and faced him, their eyes now locked.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Oliver questioned.
"I suppose I didn't want to believe it. But I knew...I felt something was wrong..." Rafaella attempted to explain.
They lingered there in a silence that brewed with unanswered questions. Rafaella's hand came up and brushed her son's face.
"I'm sorry," Rafaella stated, her eyes glistening.
"It's not your fault you're sick," Oliver replied.
"I didn't mean that...I meant about Niko," she explained, prompting Oliver's eyes to flare up. Suddenly, the stud's absence was noticeable, and everything inside him felt utterly incomplete again.
"I'm so...confused," Oliver admitted, his soul struggling to find answers.
"I know you think your life is over. But it's not," Rafaella counseled.
"Really?... Because it sure feels like it is," the boy mumbled, his expression brewing with frustration. Rafaella smiled at her son and slowly nudged her tired body over the bed, pulling herself closer to him.
"Life will still happen to you, bambino, whether you like it or not," she whispered. "She'll yank you back and forth, force you to stray from the road you're on. She'll challenge you, hurt you, and gift you," she continued, her words numbing Oliver's pain. "But in the end...even at the expense of your pain...and your joy...she'll always correct herself. You'll see," she stated.
"Are you sure?" Oliver questioned, his blue gaze hopeful.
"No," Rafaella replied, chuckling gently. "But I hope," she added, smiling.
"Mamma...I feel like I'm losing both of you," Oliver finally confessed.
"It's not about who or what we lose, Ollie...But how we choose to continue living despite our losses that matter," Rafaella counseled, pulling her son's chin up and forcing his eyes to confront hers. "Nothing really ever dies...inside us, I mean...so, promise me you'll keep your heart open," she pleaded. Oliver's lips stretched reluctantly, endeavoring to give his mother some comfort.
"I promise," the boy professed, diving his face inside her mother's bosom.
"Ti amo così tanto, mio bellissimo angelo," Rafaella professed, her benevolent breath coating Oliver's scalp with the warmest aura.
"Ti amo anch'io, Mamma," Oliver whispered back, feeling his weariness carry him into a deep slumber.
Over the next few days, as Nate and Chiara wrestled with getting everything ready for their return home, the hospital quickly became Oliver and John's second residence. The boy and his father split their time between Rafaella's bedside and the waiting area, where Sophia and Jason kept them company. Their support quickly became Oliver's lifeline, a source of strength to face what felt like a tormenting nightmare. But now and then, his blue eyes would scour the corridor, hoping Niko would turn the corner, his smile coming to cleanse the blonde's pain. But he didn't come. Was Niko purposely avoiding him? Was the stud raising a wall between them, a desperate attempt to shield them from suffering? And how could Oliver blame him? The thought of parting from Niko punctured his chest with an overwhelming void every single time. And he knew that his lover was struggling with the same conflicting thoughts.
As the end of their stay grew near, Oliver's heart began to cave. And finally, on the eve of their departure, around 5 pm, he left the hospital. The weight of the situation bore down on him, and he felt an overwhelming need to escape, to find some semblance of peace amid the chaos. So he wandered back to the villa, the walk filled with memories of the days he had spent there with Niko. The island that had once seemed a paradise now felt like a dwelling of bittersweet memories and impossible choices.
When he arrived at the central plaza, the villa was eerily quiet, the last specs of the sun casting long shadows across the courtyard as a local crew dismantled the fair, bringing down the small tents and the main stage. He wandered through all those familiar spaces, each corner of those streets filled with echoes of laughter and love. Unexpectedly, Oliver climbed up the cobbled narrow street, drawn to the viewpoint where he and Niko had shared their first intimate moment. He sat on the same stone bench, looking at the shimmering sea, and his thoughts drifted. He remembered the first time they met, that spark of attraction that had started it all when his eyes first met the stud's emeralds hovering over the water's surface, watching him. He remembered their nights together, filled with passion and tenderness, and how Niko's green eyes had spent hours gazing at him with such love and devotion.
A deep ache fell over Oliver's chest as the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape. He missed Niko with an intensity that surprised him, a longing beyond physical desire. Niko had become a part of him, a source of strength and joy, and the thought of being sundered felt like losing a part of his soul. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the bench, letting the warm breeze wash over him. He thought about all the nights they had spent together, how they had clung to each other, their bodies and hearts intertwined. And then, among his thoughts, Oliver began to realize that the way he and Niko loved each other transcended reason. It was desperate, urging, necessary. Like a breath of air, a pulse of blood coursing through his veins. How could he live without breathing? How could he carry on without the beat of Niko's heart thumping in his ear as he lay his head on the stud's chest?
Yet, he knew, deep down, that his heart had already decided.
But now, sitting alone on that viewpoint, he couldn't shake the feeling of doubt and fear. What if he couldn't come back to Niko? And if he could, when? What if the distance and the demands of his family pulled them apart? The thought of losing Niko was almost unbearable, a pain that pierced his heart with cruelty, a feeling unlike any he had ever known.
As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, the sky darkened, and the stars began to appear. He remembered the magical night he and Niko spent lying over the cold sand on that island, stargazing, talking about their future and the life they desired to build together. Those dreams now seemed so fragile, painfully distant.
He couldn't bear it anymore, and so, unbeknownst to him, Oliver's body rose from his apathy, and he began to sprint down towards Niko's house, an intense urgency propelling his legs to dash over the cobbled pavement, his feet barely touching the ground. And as he finally stood at Niko's doorway, the weight of the past few days pressed heavily on his shoulders. He rang the doorbell, waiting patiently for Niko's head to pop behind the window. After a few seconds, he heard the stud's footsteps coming down the stairs and opened the door. Oliver leaped into his arms, and they kissed passionately.
Moments later, they were upstairs.
The warm glow of the setting sun bathed the room in soft light. Niko stood a few feet away, his eyes filled with sorrow, anger, and unspoken love. They had avoided this moment as much as they could, but now, it felt inevitable.
"Niko..." Oliver began, his voice trembling slightly.
Niko clenched his fists, trying to control his deluge of emotions. "I know," he said, his voice strained. You're leaving," he acknowledged.
The air between them felt thick with unsaid words, the tension almost palpable. Oliver moved closer, his heart aching at how much he was about to renounce.
"I don't want to go," Oliver whispered, his eyes searching Niko's for solace. "But I have to," the boy stuttered. Niko's face contorted with pain, and he turned away, eyes trembling as he faced the window, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed anger.
"This isn't fair," he muttered. Oliver reached out, gently touching Niko's arm.
"I'm sorry," the boy said, his voice breaking. "I wish...," he stumbled as tears rolled down his cheeks. Niko turned around, the hurt in Oliver's eyes almost unbearable to witness.
"Don't cry," he begged, his voice hardening. "Please, don't cry, Ble Mou Poulí," the stud beseeched.
A heavy silence fell over them, the only sound being the distant murmur of the sea outside. Oliver felt his tears welling up, his heart breaking for the man he loved and the circumstances pulling them apart.
"I love you, Niko," Oliver said, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much," the boy whispered, his face clinging to Niko's. The stud's eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"I know," he said softly, his anger giving way to a deep sadness. "I love you too," the hunk murmured.
They stood there for a moment, the world outside fading into inconsequentiality. Then, without another word, Niko finally closed the last inch of distance that separated them, pulling Oliver into a fierce embrace. Their lips met in a desperate, aching kiss, each trying to convey the depth of their love and the pain of their impending separation.
They stumbled back into the bed, their movements frantic and urgent. Clothes were carelessly discarded as they fell onto the mattress, their bodies entwined in a dance of passion and sorrow.
"Niko..." Oliver moaned, his entire being craving the stud's love, who was always two steps ahead of the boy's needs.
"Forget everything now," Niko groaned, his eyes glistening. "Let's just fuck our brains out," he growled, grabbing Oliver's body and rolling it over. "Show me that ass," he commanded, setting the tone for what was to come. Oliver smiled, pulling up and throwing one leg over the hunk, his face between Niko's legs. He pulled back and saddled the hunk's mug, shoving his smooth ass cheeks into his mouth. "That's it, beautiful," Niko continued, his voice steering away their worries.
Suddenly, there was nothing else, just the two of them again. Their world reverted to its essence. The stud's hands began to slap Oliver's ass, causing his skin to jiggle, the sound echoing inside the room.
"Fuck!" the boy moaned, throwing his head back as he felt Niko's tongue slide inside his taint. He could feel the hunk's thick beard chafing against his delicate skin and his tongue gliding greedily around the soft skin of his sphincter before sliding inside his warm hole. "Right there..." Oliver stammered, chuckling erotically. By now, and after all the countless hours they had spent loving each other, Niko knew all his intricacies and possessed an undeniable knowledge of his body. And every motion, every grip of the stud's hands over him, sent shockwaves through the blonde's body, his mind overwhelmed by ardor.
He sat on Niko, burying the stud's face inside his crack until it disappeared, and then he began to swing his hips back and forth, feeling Niko's tongue slide deeper and deeper. They lingered there for a few minutes, Oliver's hands rubbing up and down his own chest, his eyes closed in complete rapture, purposely coding every inch of the hunk's tongue into him. His hands coasted behind his neck as he kept grilling his hole into Niko's mouth, hearing the stud's muffled groans from under him as he munched on it. Oliver had never felt sexier. His whole body now awakened, and his spirit surrendered entirely to his sexuality. His body a conduit to its magnificence. As he finally lowered his eyes, he paused. Niko's cock winked at him, its massive girth and wide mushroom tip fluttering as it bounced before him. Sensing this, Niko pushed Oliver's ass away, unlocking his spit-soaked mouth.
"You wanna take care of that?" the stud teased, causing Oliver to chuckle.
"Fuck, yeah," the boy immediately replied, diving his head into the stud's perfectly shaped, 9-inch shaft.
Like second nature, his mouth slid down on it, swallowing almost all of it before he pulled out, hugging it with his mouth as his tongue spit-lubed it. Niko moaned, slapping the boy's ass a couple of times before diving his mouth back inside Oliver's hole, and soon they lay, rimming and sucking each other in a mirrored dance of passion and exploration.
On one side, Niko's jaw danced vigorously, the sound of his tongue wiggling, escorting the most precious moans from Oliver's mouth, who, overwhelmed by the sensation, would occasionally be forced to pull Niko's cock out, wailing like an animal in heat. But as he dove back down, shoving the tanned hunk's cock inside his mouth again, Niko would unlock from his ass, groaning with pleasure at the familiar yet consistently overwhelming feeling of the boy's warm mouth wrapped around his dick, his red, plump lips stretched thin, eyes flaring and pouring tears as he shoved his hips up, forcing his cock deeper inside Oliver's throat.
It was beautifully effortless, the dance they now commanded. So raw, so pure, so undeniably earned. They were, for lack of a better word, equals--two souls, wholly aligned and tuned with each other's needs. And the deeper they delved into each other's pleasure, in a way they had never done before, the more unbreakable the dome they were erecting around them became. A thick layer of light, love, and unbridled passion that lacked logic or reasoning. And that contradicted the concept of time itself.
"Oliver..." Niko moaned, his mouth barely pulling away from the boy's crack, his words muffled by the blonde's peach, latched to his face. But Oliver's head kept moving, bobbing up and down frenetically. He had found his groove, and so had his mouth, every single muscle working tirelessly to suck every inch of the hunk's meat, his lips and tongue hugging it with fierce determination. "Oliver, wait..." the stud warned again, feeling his orgasm build. But Oliver was out, his lust deaf to Niko's words, whose eyes began to roll back.
Suddenly, he pulled his lips away, hands clutching Oliver's waist, and in a swift move, he ripped the boy off him, throwing him across the bed. As Niko pulled up, his back hitting the bed's headpiece, his eyes gaped, floored by what he witnessed. Oliver lay on his back, his elbows drilled into the bed, his chest moving up and down, mouth opened, lips bloated. And inside his eyes, something Niko had never seen. An instinctual creature, all desire, love, and rage. Niko had barely time to think when the boy lunged over the bed, his right arm raised in the air, ready to strike his lover. The stud's body fired forward in time to grab Oliver's wrist, stopping it from hitting his face. Their eyes locked, shivering. There was so much inside them, so much anger and despair. How cruel a fate, they thought. That such love wouldn't be allowed to persist. But, then again, maybe their love couldn't grow anymore, Niko thought as he held Oliver's arms at bay. Perhaps it had grown as big as it could. Could it be that fate felt compelled to intervene, fearing their adoration could kill them if allowed to continue growing?
"I hate you...for making me fall in love with you," Oliver stuttered, his clenched jaw spewing the words like splinters. "You...you should've let me drown that day..." the boy whimpered, his lips trembling along with his arms. Niko's muscular arms trembled along with him, surprised by Oliver's sudden burst of adrenaline, the boy's strength seemingly magnified. His eyes gazed inside Oliver's blue pool, glistening with emotion.
He wanted to comfort him and tell him that everything would be fine and that all would be alright in the end. But he just couldn't. He loved Oliver too damn much to lie to him. So he did the only thing he could. He yanked Oliver's arms down and pulled the boy in, bussing him passionately. Their mouths merged, their breaths firing, the sound escalating like wildfire. And from under Niko's mouth, Oliver moaned.
"Fuck me, Niko..." the boy whimpered, his salty tears skating down his cheeks, sliding inside their mouths unceremoniously. "Fuck me hard," he begged. "Make me forget," he implored.
And with those words, Niko's heart burst open again.
His hand crawled up Oliver's back and gripped his blonde hair, pulling his neck back aggressively. The boy gasped, his eyes clamoring for the stud's dominance. Their bodies were slowly morphing, becoming almost feline. Niko tightened his mouth and spat on Oliver's face, who growled in satisfaction, his white teeth emerging in a lascivious smile. His body rolled like a reptile on all fours, and he began to tease Niko's hungry cock, pushing his ass into it. Niko held his blonde curls inside his grip, forcing Oliver's neck to arch back inhumanely as the boy mewled.
"You want this dick, you little slut? Is that it?" Niko teased, his voice sultry and disturbingly sensual. His ostensibly rough and belligerent words only seemed to fuel Oliver's lustful fire even more.
"Fuck yes, put it in..." the boy begged, willingly and abjectly, as he wiggled his ass in front of Niko's cock. He rubbed, hard and veiny, over the blonde's crevice.
"Open those cheeks. Do it!" Niko ordered, pulling Oliver's hair back with both hands as he watched his face contort with discomfort. He looked down, watching the boy's fingers unfurl his peach, exposing his perfect pink hole, puckering eagerly.
Niko closed his eyes and let his cock slide in. It was an effortless motion, as if the veiny monster knew the way and lacked his guidance. As he pushed in, with no pause, the boy's moan escorted his movement. As his hairy balls finally slapped against Oliver's skin, he felt the blonde's sphincter close in around his prick. Completely subdued by the boy's submissiveness, Niko's bestial nature emerged. He yanked Oliver up, his chest slapping against the boy's back, and he began to fuck him, thrusting his pelvis forward, pushing the blonde's hips with it. His right hand grabbed Oliver's chin and forced his face to rotate enough for him to slide his tongue inside his mouth, trying to quell the violent wails that now erupted from the blue-eyed beauty's mouth. And for several minutes, Niko fucked Oliver's hole into submission while the sound of his muscular hips slapping against the boy's sweaty cheeks reverberated across the small space. The smell became intense, the inebriating scent of Oliver's insides mixing with the spicy musk of Niko's sweat in a daring and magical fusion.
Oliver's wails were now cries, the boy's growls serving as a conduit, taming the excruciating pain he felt. And every stab of Niko's cock inside his hole felt like a sedative, numbing his misery. The harder he cried, the harder Niko fucked him, and it wasn't long before Oliver's cries began to die down, his throat closing in shock at the overwhelming feeling of Niko's savage fucking. But as his voice ceased, his body opened up, his arms crossing in front of his chest, hands gripping Niko's arms.
"Niko...fuck..." he whimpered from the bottomless pit of pleasure he now found himself in.
"Shhh..." Niko whispered, his words being cut short by his cutthroat motions. "Just take it," the hunk stuttered, deepening his thrusts, pressing the mushroom tip against the boy's prostate, and finally releasing Oliver's hair from his grip.
This caused the boy to fall forward and collapse over the mattress, ass sticking up as Niko continued to slam his hips into him. What happened next was a blur. It may have been seconds, minutes, hours, or even days as Niko stretched Oliver's hole beyond recognition. By the time he pulled out, falling back on his knees, worn over, the boy's hole released a loud queefing sound, spewing nothing but precum and compressed air. He fell, face forward, his entire body shivering from exhaustion. Then, he slowly rolled over, his blue eyes squinting at Niko in disbelief. The stud sat, a smirk on his eyes as he stroked his cock, which seemed insatiably famined. And for several minutes, they lingered there, gazing at each other, admiring the limits they had just shattered together--another beautiful milestone in their love.
"I'm not done with you yet..." Niko grunted, causing Oliver's eyes to gape and his throat to chuckle nervously.
"I can't..." the boy stuttered.
But Niko wasn't having it. As the boy pulled back, attempting to move away, the stud slid across the bed, grabbing Oliver's ankles and pulling him back. His muscular arms flared the blonde's legs open, and he slid his cock back inside. Like a coordinated move, both their necks snapped back.
"Holy..." Oliver whimpered.
"Fuck..." Niko added, resuming his thrusts.
Oliver's hands came up, covering his face as he sobbed with pleasure, his now loose hole queefing loudly every time Niko's cock punched in and pulled out of him. Every once in a while, the boy's fingers would grip the sheets, his arms trying to push away from the stud. But it was hopeless. Niko's brutal force had him pinned down, subjugated to his will. The stud's militant lovemaking and harrowing adoration for his lover's body was a force Oliver couldn't escape from, nor did he want to.
"Niko..." Oliver stammered, struggling to speak. "You're loosening me up...so much..." he whispered, his mouth dangling open in awe as his eyes gaped at the stud's. Niko's every muscle tensed with determination, his chiseled six-pack pushing through his skin. "I'm gonna pass out..." the blonde suddenly warned.
And with those words, Niko finally slowed down. But he didn't stop. The hunk let his body fall over Oliver, their sweaty bodies merging.
"Ble Mou Poulí..." he whispered into the boy's mouth, sliding his tongue inside, sucking on the boy's lips.
"Fuck...you're wearing me out..." Oliver mumbled, his head shaking from side to side. His arms circled Niko's back, his fingers caressing every muscle with worship. And as he did, Niko's ass began to clench, lowering the speed of his thrusts but increasing their intensity.
Soon, they fell into a rhythm, the vigor of their coupling fueled by a need to hold onto each other, to imprint this moment in their memories. Niko's hands roamed over Oliver's body, his touch tender and demanding. Oliver responded with equal enthusiasm. Their breaths mingled, their hearts beating in sync. It was a connection beyond words, a raw and primal expression of their love and anguish.
"I...I don't want to let you go," Niko whispered against Oliver's skin, his voice trembling.
"Then hold me, Niko...hold me tight," Oliver replied, his hands clutching Niko's massive back as the stud pushed his cock inside him, trying to anchor himself to the boy.
Their bodies moved together, the rhythm of their lovemaking a bittersweet symphony of desire and despair. They kissed and touched, every caress a silent promise, every kiss a solemn declaration of their love until Niko's cock caved in, unable to withhold his profound love any longer. Slowly, he began to unload inside Oliver's hole, prompting the boy's pink shaft to twitch and explode under their glued abdomens. Tears mingled with their sweat, and their moans filled the small room, a testament to the depth of their feelings. And there, Niko and Oliver took their desire to the finish line under the protective guise of the yearning and passion that had become their whole world, as their spirits radiated their overwhelming light over one another.
And even after they climaxed, they kept going, their cocks refusing to give in. Their bodies unable to relinquish whatever fleeting time they had left.
Their uninhibited, raging, feral, and vulnerable moans filled that small room, engraving the melody of their undying connection on those walls for hours.
When they finally collapsed beside each other, spent and breathless, the reality of their situation came crashing down. Oliver lay with his head on Niko's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, trying to memorize the sound, the feeling, the warmth of his skin. Niko gently stroked Oliver's hair, his touch soothing yet tinged with sadness. They said nothing. They fell asleep in each other's arms, the exhaustion of their emotions and their bodies finally taking its toll.
What little time remained for them went by quickly, the moments of peace and closeness slipping away like sand through their fingers.
And once the first light of dawn crept into the room, Oliver woke up, a sense of dread settling over him. He looked at Niko, still asleep beside him, and felt his heart constrict with the pain of what he knew he had to do. Gently, he disentangled himself from his lover's embrace, trying not to wake him. He dressed quietly, every movement feeling like a betrayal. He paused at the door, looking back at Niko one last time, his heart heavy with love and woe. And with one final, lingering glance, he turned and walked out of the room, his steps heavy with the weight of his decision. As he closed the door behind him, the reality of his departure hit him with full force.
The walk back to the hotel was a blur of sentiments. His mind replayed every moment of the past few weeks with Niko as he slowly packed his bags. He knew he was making the right decision for his family and mother. But it didn't make leaving any less painful. Along with Niko, his hopes and dreams felt like leaves being scattered to the wind. He was returning to a world of responsibilities and uncertainties, leaving behind the promise of love and the life he had found there. A place he felt he belonged to.
That morning, the atmosphere over Paros starkly contrasted with the storm of emotions brewing inside Oliver. The bright sun and clear blue skies seemed almost mocking as they drove to the pier, where a transfer boat waited to sail them back to the airport. They barely spoke, the gravity of the situation rendering words unnecessary. Both Sophia and Jason held Oliver's hands tightly, offering silent support.
As they arrived at the pier, Oliver lingered near the boat's edge while John carried Rafaella inside. Chiara and Nate followed. Sophia hopped inside, and suddenly, Jason paused, his eyes on Oliver.
"Ollie...?" he uttered, sensing his friend's unease. The blonde's gaze was locked on the stone wall just over the road leading to the dock, his expression taken over by a tamed hopefulness. "We have to go," Jason added.
"Yeah...I know," Oliver mumbled as his blue jewels scoured the distance.
If only, he thought, before turning around and climbing inside, the motors already running as the boat slowly pulled away. And finally, the blonde's eyes descended to the floor, defeated. He took a deep breath, feeling the sea breeze brushing his lungs.
And it was then, as he finally exhaled, that he heard the scooter. His eyes flung up, gaping with surprise. Niko drove down the dock, his right hand waving desperately.
"Wait! Oliver, wait!" the stud yelled from afar. Oliver's head began to dart around, distress taking hold as he realized the boat was floating off. So he stepped back and ran to the edge, jumping into the cold water below.
"Ollie!" Sophia yelled, prompting a sudden commotion inside the deck.
As the blonde's hea broke the surface, his soaked hair swinging, he swam to the shore, climbing the metal grid into the wooden pier, and rushed for Niko's arms, already opened to receive them.
"Niko..." Oliver stuttered, his voice falling into despair as their lips merged in a fervent kiss--tears mixed with saltwater merging as Oliver sobbed, his wails an entangled cacophony of happiness and suffering.
"Don't cry, Ble Mou Poulí..." Niko whispered into the blonde's skin, their tears merging as their faces rubbed together frantically. Oliver felt his throat tighten.
"Why did you...why did you come back...?" Oliver whimpered, feeling the last shred of strength leave him.
And then, it happened.
Niko held Oliver's face in his hands, his beautiful emerald eyes diving inside the boy's blue lagoon, and he smiled, pulling him in.
"Because...I didn't say what I should have said..." Niko uttered.
"What...?" Oliver mumbled as he felt Niko's mouth close in.
And as the stud's lips slowly and gently touched Oliver's ear, he whispered something. Words that would, from that day on, forever be lost to that moment, stowed inside Oliver's heart like a treasure.
In the distance, inside the boat, Sophia watched, eyes glistening with emotion.
"What do you think he's saying to him?" she sobbed.
"I don't know..." Jason whispered, trying to cage his own feelings. "Probably something only Oliver's meant to hear," Jason replied. "Something only he'll understand..." he whispered, almost to himself.
And how right he was.
Oliver wept as Niko's words drilled into his consciousness. But his tears were nuanced now, no longer overpowered by sadness. There was also joy in them and hope. That foreign, mysterious young man, who had crossed Oliver's path for whatever reason, had managed to weave himself into his spirit and become part of the rich tapestry that composed the boy's soul. A sharp, unexpected puncture in his heart that would forever leave it open, bleeding desire, pleasure, and overwhelming longing.
With a last, lingering kiss, they finally parted. By now, the boat had turned around and was docking near the pier, so Oliver dragged himself back and stood on the deck, a large towel wrapped around his soaked body as he watched Niko's scooter slowly disappear from view.
He glazed his tongue over his lips, still able to feel Niko's taste in his mouth, and smiled.
(26 years later, Sag Harbor, Long Island, N.Y.)
Elijah's stunning, youthful body stirred awake as the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains of his room, casting a soft glow over the familiar surroundings. The beach house in Sag Harbor, Long Island, had been his home for as long as he could remember, loaded with remembrances and echoes of the past. Today, however, was a particularly special day: his father, Oliver Preston, was celebrating his 44th birthday.
The boy stretched his smooth body and sat in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was a young man, fresh off his 18th birthday, with striking features--the spitting image of his father in his youth--sunny blonde curls, turquoise eyes, and the most flawless physique--a tall, smooth body of pale, snow-white, velvety skin.
Rising to his feet, Elijah padded down the hallway to the kitchen, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted him. He poured himself a cup and leaned against the counter, savoring the peacefulness of the morning as his blue gaze scoured the large window over the sink, facing the most luscious garden. It was still early, and the house was bathed in the most glorious golden sunrise hues.
Birthdays were always bittersweet for his father, usually sprinkled with a tinge of melancholy. Oliver's journey from that fateful morning in Paros, which Elijah knew nothing about, to this particular day had been long and winding, marked by love. But also loss and remarkable resilience. The boy knew today would be a day of contemplation as much as a celebration.
The blonde beauty idled around the house, tidying up and preparing for Sophia and Jason's arrival. His aunt, her long-time partner, and their two children had been constants in his life, and their presence was a comforting reminder of the enduring bonds of family. And being the only son of a single parent, Elijah had always relied on his father's close-knit clan for support. As he walked by the living room, holding the scorching cup of coffee in his hand, he noticed the record player and the vast array of Vinyls, among which stood the collection of the only four official studio records by the England-based band, The Smiths. They were heirlooms passed down through generations and held a special place in their family's hearts, especially Oliver's. The boy sat on the ground and let his fingers glide over them, humming a soft, familiar melody. Like his father, music had always been a way for him to connect with his emotions and express what words often couldn't.
Lost in his thoughts, Elijah failed to hear the front door open. It wasn't until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he looked up, startled. Jason stood there, smiling warmly.
"Hey, kid," Jason greeted, smiling. Elijah jumped up clumsily, dropping the vinyl on the ground.
"Uncle Jason!" the boy hollered, leaping into his uncle's arms, wrapping his around his neck. Jason's hands locked behind the boy's back, brushing his soft skin.
"Jesus Christ, it's like looking at one of Ollie's old pictures," Jason commented as he pulled back, his eyes mesmerized by Elijah's alluring figure and resemblance to his long-time friend.
"I'd say he's prettier, if that's even possible," Sophia's voice spoke from the living room's doorway. She stood there leaning against it, her eyes twinkling at the boy. "Where's your father?" she questioned.
"I haven't seen him yet. But probably locked inside the annex," the boy replied casually. "You know how he gets this time of the year," he added, prompting Jason and Sophia to share a complicit look. "Where's Alex and Charlotte?" he questioned, eyes scouring the main gate past the lush grassland. Elijah's cousins were the closest friendships in his life.
"They're driving back tomorrow. I asked them to pick my parents up on their way here," Sophia explained. Elijah's eyes lingered on his aunt before they fled to the fifty square meter annex further down the house, coasting on the edge of the most beautiful, deserted beach.
"So...is he coming?" Sophia teased, prompting Elijah to chuckle.
"I'll go get him..." the boy replied, graciously walking down the grassy incline towards the annex, stirring his body from side to side in an effortless dance.
As he reached the door, his hand came up and knocked gently on it. Twice.
"Dad, can I come in?" Elijah announced, peeking inside slowly.
The lights were down, and only the morning rays coated the room with the most glorious golden glow. It was a considerable, ample living room exuding a man cave energy, with a bar, a large sofa in front of a window facing the beach, an ample coffee table, and a round bowl full of weed.
A few seconds passed before Oliver's voice replied from behind the couch, his body concealed from view. Its vitality and cleanliness were gone, giving way to a mature, seasoned, and slightly husky tone.
"Hey, bud," he answered.
Elijah walked up to his father, standing before him, inadvertently blocking the light. Oliver lay on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of tight undies, his feet over the table, and one of his hands lifted as he held a joint between his fingers. He was still beautiful, his otherworldly charm matured, and although his skin had aged and his hairline had receded slightly, his turquoise gaze lacked none of his former vibrancy. As his eyes locked on his son, he smiled, using his left hand to call the boy over. Elijah smiled back and rushed forward, crawling onto the oversized couch and nestling himself inside his father's arms. His head immediately fell over Oliver's chest. It was, by far, Elijah's favorite place--a river of peace, tranquility, and protection where he bathed regularly.
"Uncle Jason and Aunt Sophia are here," he informed. Oliver didn't react, but Elijah could hear his lips sucking on the joint, his chest exhaling as he puffed a cloud of smoke over them. "Are you okay?" the boy asked.
"I am now," Oliver replied, tightening his grip around his son. His fingers dipped inside the boy's blonde silky hair, gently brushing his scalp.
"What about your cousins?" Oliver asked, his eyes scanning the sea line.
"Tomorrow," Elijah replied.
"Okay," Oliver uttered, pausing. "Where's...hum...what's his name again?" he questioned. Under him, Elijah rolled his eyes, trying to cage his laughter.
"Austin," he mumbled.
"Right," Oliver immediately replied. There was a brief silence before they both chuckled.
"He's...not coming," the boy stated, visibly uncomfortable with the topic.
"Did you get into a fight?" Oliver asked, his protective, caring nature pushing through his apathy.
There was a brief silence.
"We broke up," Elijah informed, his voice falling into a shallow sadness.
"Why?" Oliver questioned, his fingers still dipped inside his son's hair.
"I don't know. I just...wasn't feeling it," Elijah endeavored to explain.
"I see," Oliver replied, his eyes glancing down at his son, trying to catch his expression. But the blonde's face was obscured, his hand already going for his pocket, pulling out his phone. He started casually strolling through his social media.
"Can you, for once, put that thing down and finish a conversation," Oliver scolded, fidgeting in his seat.
"Jesus...fine," Elijah muttered, annoyed. Yet, like a child would do, his body seemed to follow Oliver's every move, constantly adjusting himself inside his father's embrace. "Dad...?" he whispered.
"Yeah, bud?" Oliver replied, his words soft and tender.
"What's it like...being in love?" Elijah stuttered, a particular embarrassment attached to the question.
"You've never been in love?" Oliver asked, surprised. He could feel his son's head shaking over his chest. "What about Austin?" he playfully provoked.
"Oh, I don't think I love him..." Elijah replied. "I mean, I love his..." he added before Oliver cut him off.
"Right, okay. I get it, Elijah," he interrupted, chuckling nervously. Their relationship was very close-knit, and Oliver would frequently find himself having to tote the line, adjusting it between comfortable and respectful.
"There are different kinds of love...and...you don't love everyone the same way, " Oliver stated, trying to juggle his son's tricky query.
"Yeah, I know...but I'm talking about that crazy, out-of-body, over-the-top kinda feeling..." Elijah described, his voice lagging as he tried to find the words. "...the butterflies on your stomach, the..."fuck everything" kinda love, you know?" he asked. "Man, I wanna feel that," the boy exclaimed, exhaling deeply with ease. There was a brief silence before a soft, endeared chuckle broke from Oliver's mouth.
"You will, someday," the blonde stud stated with conviction.
"Did you ever feel that?" Elijah challenged, prompting a deep silence to take hold. "Dad...?" the boy pressed, his neck bending as he glanced up at his father, whose eyes were latched on the large window before them, a profound melancholy taking them hostage.
A stillness anchored the room, with only Oliver's resounding breaths filling the space.
"I did, once," Oliver's voice finally replied. "A long time ago..." he whispered, his words suddenly whisked away by deep-seated memories.
Into a secret world. Entirely his own.
(To be continued...)