The Brownstone on Union Park

GENERAL DISCLAIMER: This story contains sexual situations between adult males involving various aspects of the kink and fetish communities. If you find material of this nature offensive then you should not read any further. All characters in this story are over the age of 21. If you are under 18 years old in the US or under 16 in the UK you are not legally allowed to read this story. This is purely a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to any events that may have occurred, are purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the websites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author. Nifty does not exist without donations. If you enjoy these stories, please donate here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

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The Brownstone on Union Park

• Chapter Four --

"It's only a sprained ankle, it will be better in no time. Or at least it would surely heal up by the time his job started," he thought.

After he drank an entire glass of water and felt his stomach begin to relax a bit he started in on the pizza.

"Why did food always taste so much better when you were hungry?" continued his internal dialog.

He finished the rest of his meal and gradually drank the coke. The sugary sweetness of the soda satiated his carb craving after the intense cardio.

All this just to take advantage of his RA provided lunch? Life would be so much different when he started work and actually had money for the basic things in life. Life would definitely be different for Michael.

Michael's phone was fully charged and he carefully monitored the time: ten minutes until the call. He adjusted the new bag of ice he was able to refill at dinner in the cafeteria. The ankle was starting to swell but the ice mitigated the worst of his injury; it probably would have swollen to twice the amount if he did not ice it when he did. He stopped by the campus medical office after dinner and got a small supply of ibuprofen and the expected advice of trying to stay off his left foot as much as possible.

He readjusted the bag of ice when his phone started to vibrate--it was the same number that texted him before. It was Carter.

His heartbeat quickened as he moved his hand toward the phone. Thinking back to his sleuthing earlier that day, regrets began to surface about finding out so much information on Carter. And that picture with his blue eyes became implanted in the back of his mind. He pressed the green button to accept the call and moved the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Michael speaking."

"Hi Michael, thanks for taking the time to talk tonight. This is Carter. Mind if I put you on speaker so James can join in on the conversation."

Carter's voice was fairly deep. Michael began to picture the image he found on the Chandler University's web page and tried to sync up the voice with the face.

"Of course."

"Ok, can you hear me from across the room?" James asked with a voice that was higher in pitch yet still unmistakably masculine.

"Loud and clear," replied Michael.

"Great, we just had a few more questions. It shouldn't take too long," Carter explained.

"No problem."

"Ok, you mentioned in your e-mail that you'll be starting a new job soon at an insurance firm in the city. Would you be able to provide us with the offer letter so we know you can really afford to live in the South End?"

"Yeah, no problem, I can text you a copy of it after the call."

"Great, and you're not a smoker?"

"No, well, not cigarettes," Michael laughed.

"Haha, we party on occasion too!" Carter responded.

"Speak for yourself!" retorted James.

"And no pets, either right?" asked Carter.

"Nope, it's impossible to have any pets in the dorms," Michael replied.

"Ahh, so you must have just graduated? Do you mind if we ask how old you are?"

"It's fine, I'm twenty-two," Carter explained.

There was a small pause in the conversation, or maybe it just seemed like there was since the last set of questions came in such rapid succession. Michael swallowed hard thinking he just said something that did not sit well with James and Carter. What could be wrong, he was just being honest.

Michael heard nothing and then politely asked, "Is that going to be an issue?"

James jumped in, "No, not at all. We just wanted to let you know that we're each about ten years older. As long as you're not throwing raging parties every night and keep it quiet by eleven in the evening it's fine."

"We had a problem with our previous roommate who treated the place like his own party pad, hooking up with a new guy each night, and he was in his early twenties," Carter further explained.

"I actually just got over a breakup... Honestly, my head is going to be in my new job and not much else."

"Sorry to hear that about your breakup," Carter replied.

"It's fine, he's moving back to the west coast anyway. It would have never worked out."

"So, given that you brought it up, we're both gay as the listing mentioned," Carter replied.

"BUT, NOT TOGETHER!" James qualified with a bit too much energy.

"Haha, it's fine. I figured that as much from all the pictures of the different bedrooms," added Michael. He knew had to say something else without it sounding like he was too much of a stalker from his close examination of the pictures earlier.

He continued, "Did you guys have the place professionally decorated, I honestly thought the photos might be faked. It looked like something you'd see in a magazine."

James effortlessly took the compliment, "Well thank you. Most of the design I did myself. It's been a long five-year journey since I bought the place, gutted it, and started from scratch."

"Yeah, the television you two have looked really cool in that one photo, it just blends into the wall between the windows," Michael replied.

Carter cut in, "So, to be honest Michael, we've been talking to a bunch of crazy people that were interested in the room over the past week."

"Crazy? More like insane," James clarified.

"And our last roommate seemed great when we talked on the phone but when he finally moved from Chicago, and we met him in person, he was nuts," Carter added.

"So... What Carter is really saying, is, would you mind meeting with us first? It would also give you a chance to check out the room and the rest of our place too." James offered.

"Yeah, that would be great," Michael agreed.

"The thing is, we're both going to be away this weekend in Provincetown for a friend's birthday and then James is going to be in LA next week for work. If you think this is something that you feel is a good fit, is there any chance you could stop by tonight for a drink and a quick tour?" asked Carter.

His heart started to flutter a bit. This whole thing was moving way too fast. He really wanted to see the place too, maybe just not tonight. And there was no way he was mentally prepared to meet these guys, especially Carter.

Without any hesitation, he asked "Sure, what time were you thinking?"

"Honestly, whenever you're free. We have plans to take the early ferry from the Aquarium station tomorrow morning so other than packing we're not doing anything tonight."

"Ok, would an hour from now work? A little after eight?"

James and Carter both responded in unison, "Yes!"

"Sounds good, I just need the actual address."

"We'll text it to you as soon as we get the offer letter," countered James being ever so pragmatic.

"I'll do it right away."

"Great, looking forward to it."

The phone call ended abruptly and Michael scrambled to find the letter in his stack of papers on his desk. It did not take long as he generally kept an organized stack of related papers in color-coded folders: blue for job search related items. He quickly found it, laid it flat on the desk, illuminated his desk lamp, and took a clear picture with his phone. He checked the picture to make sure the text was legible and forwarded the picture to the same number from Carter and off it went. Whoosh.

The blue progress bar on the top of his phone seemed painfully slow but it eventually sent the picture of the letter and a small representation of it appeared in the chat stream. A moment later he received the address from Carter with instructions:

"thanks" "text when you get here" "the buzzer has been acting up again" "will get it fixed soon"

He mapped out the address on his phone and tried to figure out the best public transportation there. Regrettably, there was a Red Sox game tonight and the Green Line leading into the city would be mobbed with people. There was also the issue of his sprained ankle. Taking the T into the city tonight would be a nightmare with his injury and the crowded cars on the Green Line. Why did he not think of this before when he so easily jumped at the chance to meet these guys.

Michael pasted the address into Uber and saw that prices were beginning to surge likely on account of the Sox game letting out. It seemed like such a waste of money given that he could use his monthly T-pass to get there, but it was the more practical choice to use Uber given his injury. What was $17.45 anyway? He would make more than that in his first hour on the new job. Based on how long these carpool rides took, the arrival time estimate from the app only gave him ten minutes to get ready for a potentially life-changing meeting.

He pulled open his dresser in search of a clean shirt and quickly changed into a black polo and pair of form-fitting khaki shorts. He had to sit down on his bed to get his shorts on, with the ankle slowing down his mobility. His intent was to come across as professional and not a party animal, khakis and a black polo would do the job.

The bag of ice was starting to melt and he dumped a little of the meltwater out into his dorm room sink and quickly refastened the Ziploc seal. As weird as it might look, he reasoned that it was a sensible approach to take the ice bag with him and keep his ankle iced on the ride over.

Michael brushed his teeth, swished with some mouthwash, and applied an extra layer of deodorant. Treat it like an interview, no cologne, no offending odors, just play it cool. He knew his nerves might get the better of him tonight, which was another very valid reason why the black polo shirt made sense. He hated when he got sweat stains underneath his arms, darker colors usually masked the worst of it.

His Uber express pool was finally confirmed, and a minute later gave him a pick-up location about a block from his dorm building. He grabbed the ice pack and hobbled as quickly as he could down the stairs to the to the designated location down the street and waited for the car.

This was all happening so fast. Michael felt like he was on a roller coaster that kept increasing in speed: a breakup, college graduation, a summer job, a professional job, a new place to live. He simply did not know when it was going to slow down or speed up.

The Uber car, a silver Camry, finally arrived and he hobbled around to the back and got in. Another passenger was also seated on the opposite side of the back seat, a girl about his age, dressed up for a night out. At most, there would only be one more passenger pick up. The Camry was surprisingly comfortable and reminded him of his parent's car. It seemed like every suburban straight adult over the age of forty-five had this exact same car.

In any event, there was plenty of room in the backseat and Michael was able to drape the bag of ice over his ankle as he sat cross-legged like he did in the cafeteria earlier that day. The girl in the back did not seem to mind as she was busy texting away. He started to scroll through his own social media updates to pass the time when he began to think of the two guys he was going to meet.

"I wonder if Carter has an Instagram account?" he thought as he opened the app and began to type in his full name.

"Bingo! He did!" his mind churned. Michael scrolled through his pictures but they were mostly of Boston, the South End, and his friends. The only visible shot he could find of Carter was his small circular profile photo. Wow, his eyes. He had such remarkable eyes. If only Instagram allowed you to enlarge it to full resolution, it would be so much better.

The driver stopped for a moment somewhere in the Back Bay a few blocks away from Copley Square and waited for another express pool passenger that never showed up. After five minutes the driver's phone beeped and he diverted course to pick up another person nearby. The ride seemed like it was taking forever to cut across town. He really did not want to be late either for his first meeting. You only get one first impression after all.

The car continued and took a right on Arlington Street and snaked through the west side of Bay Village to eventually arrive on Tremont Street, the main thoroughfare of the South End. Michael knew he was getting close when he pulled up the map in the Uber app and could see his drop off point quickly approaching. Since it was Uber express pool, the driver did not drop him off at the exact address that Carter provided; instead, it stopped at the intersection of Tremont Street directly across from Union Park.

"Close enough," he thought as he exited the car and looked around. The architecture of the city never ceased to amaze him. To his right, he saw an unassuming but classically elegant entryway into an apartment building with an ornate white marble façade stretching upwards to five stories. The inscription on the top of the arched door read "St. Cloud" and Michael thought what a fitting name for a building draped in striking white Carrara marble. Technically, the style was French Second Empire, but all he knew was that it felt like he was walking around the streets of Europe. He loved this city.

To his right, across the street, he saw a coffee shop and a few restaurants. Actually, there were restaurants in every direction. He finally got his bearings and was horrified to realize that the seal on his ice pack must have leaked a little leaving a small damp patch on his crotch about the size of golf ball. Why did he have to cross his legs? He should have just let his left ankle rest on the floor.

"Damn it!" he said to himself and proceeded to dump out some of the meltwater from the Ziploc bag from the long car ride over to the South End. He double checked the seal again to make certain it was closed entirely this time. Michael did not have much choice in the matter, or time to change outfits. And at the end of the day, it was just a little water, it would dry.

It would only be a few minutes until he met these guys. He shook his head realizing how crazy this whole day was; Carter and James could be a part of his new life in less than ten days if it worked out tonight. If they did not think he would be a good match what would he do? Michael really did not have any other options and tomorrow he would have to scramble again and begin another housing search. It made him get a little queasy just thinking about the whole predicament.

He crossed Tremont Street slowly in the crosswalk on his injured ankle when an opening in the traffic let up. Crossing any street in Boston was always a gamble with your life, even in a crosswalk. The aggressive driver stories about this city really were actually true.

Michael continued to stagger down the sidewalks of Union Park noting how picturesque the street looked at dusk with the street lamps glowing a soft amber hue and fountains trickling water. The red-bricked sidewalks were irregular and anything but flat. He had to pay careful attention not to trip on the odd brick that was pushed up from a random tree root growing underneath. It was stereotypical historic Boston at its best and it was beautiful. No modern-day developer could come close to replicating the Victorian style of the South End with all its intricacies, brickwork, and distinct New England charm.

When Michael arrived at the address, he texted Carter and sat on the steps with the ice pack on his ankle. It began to ache again from the walk down the street but the coldness stole some of the pain away.

All the brownstones in this part of the South End had long entryway steps ascending to the first floor which realistically appeared to be the height of a second level. The thought of climbing this in the next minute or two sent a shiver down his back after the long walk.

He heard the door creak open and Carter appeared for the first time at the top of the steps, looked down and said, "Well, you must be Michael!"

Michael turned his head around, stood up slowly, and gingerly placed the ice pack in front of his shorts to hide the wet spot. He waved back and offered a simple, "Hello," and continued, "you must be Carter."

He tried to play it cool and take in the sight of this guy first hand. Carter was actually a bit taller than he expected, coming in somewhere around six foot one or two. Perhaps it was just the forced perspective of him standing on top of the stairs but he felt like Carter was twice his height. The same piercing blue eyes from the pictures met his own and Michael got lost in them for a brief moment and paralyzed his thoughts. Carter's eyes then darted to the bag of ice Michael was holding.

"Is everything OK?" he asked while pointing to the bag Michael clutched.

"I sprained my ankle earlier today on a run," he explained.

"Damn, I feel horrible now... If I'd known we would have never pushed you so hard to come over tonight. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"It's OK, I was able to Uber here."

"Here, let me come down and give you a hand."

Carter shuffled down the stairs with ease to meet Michael at the bottom of the steps. Michael noticed as he descended how well-defined Carter's calf muscles were, each one flexing and bulging as his legs moved down the steps one by one.

He wore a pair of strappy black Chacos sandals, with toe loops, that gave way to the rest of his legs with prominent veins running up the sides. He could not be more than six percent body fat at best with his musculature and veining.

Looking up the rest of his body, Michael noticed he had on a pair of dark workout shorts along with a fitted blue and white baseball shirt. It hugged his chest revealing incredible pectoral definition. And, of course, he had on the classic navy Red Sox baseball cap with the red "B" for Boston in the center. No jewelry, no watches, no other accouterments. He did not need a single extra accessory. He was finished.

Standing no more than a foot away and on the same level Michael finally got to look at Carter up closely. He could even smell the deodorant he was wearing, or maybe it was his cologne but it was probably too faint to be a cologne. In any event, it smelled very masculine and clean, something like sandalwood with a tinge of citrus or possibly even bergamot.

Michael went to extend his right hand outwards to offer a handshake and then realized he was still holding the bag of ice. He swapped the bag to the other hand and extended his right arm for a proper greeting. Carter reciprocated and went in for a friendly squeeze without trying to overpower his first impression on Michael.

"It's nice to meet you," was all Michael could say when Carter noticed the damp spot on his shorts.

"You sure everything's OK," Carter asked as he looked down at the wet spot and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh! The ice bag must have leaked in the car," Michael exclaimed trying to act surprised

"Sure, it did..." Carter sarcastically said, winked, and then laughed.

Michael just about lost it. Did Carter really think he pissed himself or worse? He wanted to die and just melt into a puddle on the street and dribble down the nearest drain. Before Michael could think of something clever to say Carter interrupted.

"Here, let me give you some help up these stairs," he explained and lowered his body to bring the height of his shoulders down to the same level as Michael's. Crouching slightly at his knees, Carter was now standing side by side with Michael, facing the entrance of the building.

"You don't mind?" inquired Michael.

"Really, it's fine. My job is basically looking after injured college athletes all day long. Put your left arm around my shoulder and we'll go up the steps together."

Michael obliged and put his arm around Carter's shoulder. Carter then hooked his right arm around Michael's side going underneath his armpit and resting his hand on Michael's chest. He pulled him in closer.

"It's OK, I got you," Carter tried to assuage him as he tilted his head to the right and craned his neck down to meet Michael's gaze, "really, you'll be fine, we'll go slow."

It was not the steps Michael was concerned about.

They began to step in unison together up the stairway as Michel's heartbeat began to increase ever so noticeably. Whatever Carter's deodorant or cologne was, their tight proximity intensified his scent even more. His heartbeat continued its acceleration.

"I think I have some new cold packs upstairs in my room that you won't have to worry about leaking. I can wrap one around your ankle and tape you up," Carter explained as he tried to take Michael's mind off things.

"Yeah, that would be great but don't go out of your way to..."

"Shh... it's fine. I just feel bad that we pressured you to come out tonight. You could have said something. Anyway, I want to look at your ankle in more detail once we get inside."

The intensifying sandalwood and citrus aroma from Carter began to really mess with Michael's mind. How could someone smell so good? He never experienced this before with the any of the guys he hooked up with and certainly not Alex.

After a few minutes, the two of them finally reached the landing and entered through the double doors into the main lobby of the building. Carter released his grasp from Michael's side allowing him to stand on his own and then started to point out some logistical things including the mailboxes and the other door to their neighbor's apartment.

"That's Mr. Clay's place. He used to own the whole thing, basement to attic but sold the upper levels to James a while back. He's practically deaf by the way, which is great for us. Never complained about any of the noise we make upstairs, even on Saturday nights."

"Oh, I won't be throwing any parties."

Carter cocked his head towards Michael, smiled, winked, and added, "Exactly!" and tousled his hair.

Michael awkwardly smiled in agreement and proceeded to fix his hair.

"We have the top three levels so it's going to be one more flight of stairs to our entrance. How ya' doing?" Carter inquired.

"OK, I think..." Michael responded. He was actually in a little pain now that the ice pack had been off him for a few minutes being held in his hand. The effect of the ibuprofen had started to wane. Carter noticed him wincing a little and he grimaced in response.

"Look, I deal with injuries like this all the time, be honest. Does it hurt?"

"Yes, a little," Michael explained as he crouched down and rubbed one of the more tender areas.

"OK, the thing is, the next staircase is narrower as it winds around the curve above. It's going to be difficult to fit the two of us side by side up that section, we won't have the clearance like we did on the steps below."

"I'm sure I can manage."

"Look, in the interest of time, would it be OK if I just carried you up?

I don't want you hurting yourself before you even get in the place."

He did not know what to say as he just met Carter in person minutes ago. Michael did not have a single doubt that he could safely be lifted by him. Carter was jacked and clearly spent a good amount of time at the gym probably benching many times his own body weight every day. His arms were just as developed as his legs, with well-defined biceps and equally sculpted forearms.

Michael, being self-conscious of the fading but lingering wet spot on the front of his khaki shorts did not want this feature front and center as he visualized himself getting carried. It was not the first impression he was hoping for but he remembered Carter acknowledging the true source of the wet spot coming from the bag of ice.

"Okay... ?" Michael stammered with a slightly raised pitch on the second syllable not clearly indicating if it was statement or question.

Before he knew it, Carter turned his Red Sox cap around so it faced backward allowing a few locks of his hair to spill out the front and scooped Michael up in his arms. Forming a firm grip under Michael's knees with his left arm and Michael's upper back with his right arm, Carter started the ascent up the winding staircase.

"Just be careful with your head around this curve, it's tight," Carter explained as they turned the corner.

Michael tried to compress his body, tucking in his head, as they rounded the sharp bend in the stairway. Carter readjusted his hold on Michael raising his right arm while lowering his left causing Michael to go from a horizontal to a more vertical position. The two of their heads were now closer to each other than at any other point. If Carter had not flipped his cap backward it would have prevented Michael from getting as close.

Carter could feel the bottom of his nose brush the top of Michael's head and made a mental note of how soft his hair felt; he breathed in a bit more heavily than on the previous step. Nearing the top, Michael could feel the warmth and moisture of Carter's breath on the exhale near the crown of his own head. It sent shivers down his spine and he started to fear he might be getting hard. Why did this have to happen?

It was obvious from the light that streamed out of the second-floor doorway that the entryway was left open. They both could hear James talking on the phone in the background. The light of the apartment became brighter as they approached the door. Finally, they entered, with Michael still parallel to the ground in Carter's arms. James was finishing up his work call.

"Ok. Yes. Will do. Thanks for the notification, I'll make the changes before I fly out on Monday," James said and ended the call. He peered over in the direction of the doorway noticing the two figures that caught the corner of his eye a few seconds ago.

Carter now had a ridiculous grinning smile on his face anticipating the reaction that James would have upon seeing the two of them. Carter made direct eye contact with his roommate as he carried Michael over the entryway. James took a moment to visually process the strangeness of their entrance, furrowed his brow in suspicion, and let out a hearty chuckle upon seeing Carter carrying this random guy in his arms.

And like a delivery nurse in a maternity ward, Carter cheerfully announced with flamboyant gusto, "It's a boy!!!"