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 Eight -
Michael lost it internally on the last and most powerful thunderous eruption and accidentally dropped the two champagne flutes on the ground. They easily shattered given their delicate form. Carter looked back at Michael sensing how unnerved he was by the storm and thunderous eruptions. He placed his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him when James finally got the app on his phone to release the door lock on the glass sliding door. Carter heard the distinct click and subsequent beep indicating the door lock was now freed to be opened.
"Carter, the door!" screamed James as he put his phone in his pocket and grabbed the bottle along with his champagne flute.
He easily opened the door this time and the three of them quickly made their way inside with Carter going in last his hand behind Michael's back.
All three of them were drenched even though they were in the rain for only a few minutes. These downpours in the summer months in Boston could be extreme and come seemingly out of nowhere as the warm air pushed westward finally hitting the colder air hanging over the Atlantic Ocean on the east.
Carter made sure the door was securely shut and he reset the electronic door lock. The rain intensified with the storm directly over the city now. It appeared as if it was raining sideways from the way it pelted the sliding glass door and windows on the top level. A few more lightning strikes could be seen in the distance and the thunder grumbled on.
James proceeded to dry off his phone with a bar rag, taking the shell of the protective case off first, and toweling every crevice he could manage to find.
"If I mess up another phone to water damage I'm going to fucking lose it!" he exclaimed being entirely interested in nothing else than the fate of his phone.
Carter seemed totally unphased by the events of the past few minutes and was more caught up in the odd natural beauty of the thunderstorm than worrying about his phone even though it was probably a little wet in his pocket. He took his Red Sox baseball cap off and rested it on the nearby counter revealing his hair to be mostly dry except for his front bangs.
Michael was not concerned about his phone at all, he was just happy to be inside again. Like a scarred puppy, lightning and thunder did not go over well with him and he began to shake a little.
"You OK, man?" Carter questioned while turning around to Michael with his back facing James.
He continued to lightly tremble and it took a moment for him to return to his gaze to Carter and answer his question, "I think so."
Carter faced Michael, placed both of his arms on Michael's shoulders, and gave them a light squeeze focusing the pressure on Michael's back, "It's OK, just a thunderstorm. We're inside now, it's fine."
James continued to inspect his phone making sure it was not affected by the downpour and when he was satisfied said, "You guys stay here, I don't want you dripping all over the hardwood floors. I'm getting towels."
Realizing that he was also soaking wet, James took off his polo shirt and squeezed the wetness into the sink. He took the same rag he used on his phone to dry his face, torso, and legs. His chest seemed more defined than that of an average runner. Noticeably, James put some upper body workouts into his time at the gym. The lighter hair on his chest was trimmed neatly but for whatever reason he chose to let the hair leading up to navel grow naturally; he looked good with a happy trail. James then took off his boat shoes and went down the stairs to the linen closet.
Michael was gradually brought back to reality with the gentle rubbing of his shoulders from Carter when he said very matter of factly, "Your shirt's soaked, too. We should probably just take them off like James did. If we drip over the newly redone hardwood floors he's going to freak out."
Without even thinking, Michael took the order like it was a mandate and tried to slide out of his shirt. The tightness, and now wetness, of the cottony spandex material made it cumbersome to get off his upper body and he struggled now that it was halfway up his torso cutting off his vision.
"Here, let me give you hand," Carter mentioned and gripped the two sides of his polo shirt and began to pull upwards as Michael straightened out his arms pointing towards the ceiling. He took it off with ease, balled it up, and chucked it in the sink.
Michael's chest was not nearly as defined as James; he was, in fact, remarkably average.
The central air vents kicked on and began to blow cold air from the ducts above. The top floor was on an independent heating and cooling zone since the uppermost level always seemed either too hot or cold depending on the season. Michael stood off to the side of one vent and the air hit him with an icy blast. He crossed his arms covering up his hardening nipples to maintain his body temperature and began to shiver a little.
Carter furrowed his brow in an empathetic manner when he heard James come thumping up the stairs with three towels from the linen closet and turned around to greet him, "Just in time!"
James looked slightly puzzled as he also noticed Michael starting to shiver, turned to Carter and asked, "Is he alright?"
"I'm not sure..." Carter answered and took a towel from the stack and wrapped it around Michael like a cape giving his right shoulder a firm squeeze in another attempt to pacify him.
Carter tried to make eye contact with Michael again and asked him directly, "Are you OK?"
Michael brought his eyes up to Carter and finally replied, "I'm sorry, I broke the two glasses, they slipped from my hands during the the storm."
Sensing the awkward tension, James tried to busy himself, took another towel and tried to blot his lobster print shorts and then added, "Don't worry, all the glassware for the roof deck up here is cheap stuff. We've probably broken a dozen wine glasses so far this summer alone."
Michael extended his arms with the towel still wrapped around him and buried the sides under his armpits to form a tighter wrap around his body. With Michael apparently stabilized, Carter began to take off his own shirt that was still dripping from the rain. He balled it up and made a motion to toss it to James, "Here, catch!"
He threw an underhand toss of the blue and white baseball shirt to James standing next to the sink by the kitchen area.
James caught it and replied, "Well, that's gross," threw it in the sink without wringing it out and passed him a towel.
Carter finished drying off as much as he reasonably could and then placed the towel on a barstool inside. His chest was completely untrimmed, it was all natural but with surprisingly little hair considering the darkness of the hair on his head. He sat down on the cushion of the white towel that was carefully protecting the leather surface of the barstool and proceeded to release the tightness of the straps on his black Chaco sandals. He crossed one leg and undid the clip in the back causing the strap to loosen and he effortlessly wiggled his foot out of the sandal. He switched legs and did the same maneuver, got up, and dried off his legs with the same towel.
Michael stood mesmerized the entire time watching Carter undress and take off his sandals. Not trying to be too obvious, he began to dry his lower half and took off his socks and Samba sneakers that were completely soaked. He neatly folded the towel back up and placed it near the edge of the entryway mat. The three guys all were left in nothing but their shorts now.
"Where should I put my sneakers?" Michael asked James still shivering a little.
"Just leave them on the mat for now. We need to figure how to get you warmed up and into some dry clothes for the time being," James replied.
"OK," said Michael.
"If it wasn't still lightning out I'd tell you to jump in the shower but let's wait for the worst of the storm to pass," suggested James, "but in the meantime let me get you something dry to wear from closet. I'm sure I still have something from my twink years that will fit you."
James turned around and started to descend the stairs again and said, "Follow me."
Carter did the now familiar arm motion to pick Michael up and said "OK, let's go!"
Before, with all their clothes on, it was not that awkward being carried but now half naked it was twice as intimate than anything Michael was expecting to experience on his first visit.
"You good?" Carter asked and Michael nodded in response to affirm what was about to happen.
Michael let out a deep sigh as Carter grabbed him from underneath and pulled him in closer to his body. The warmth that radiated from Carter to Michael from the direct skin contact was intense. It was like ribbons of heat extending outward from Carter's stomach directly to Michael's side. He felt so at ease now compared to a few moments ago when he was terrified of the weather.
They began their descent down to the level below with Carter carefully planting each foot firmly on the polished wooden steps one by one. Michael looked down the stairs in the general direction they were going and then tilted his neck to the far side looking straight down at Michael's legs and feet. The same rhythmic pattern of the calf muscles contracting and relaxing with each movement down the steps reminded him the first time he saw Carter approach him earlier that evening.
A drop of water from Carter's wet bangs dripped on Michael's bare stomach.
And then it happened. Michael could feel himself starting to get hard. It was simply too much. Carter's lingering smell of sandalwood, the bare skin contact, the tightness of their bodies, and most importantly, this supreme sense of gentleness, strength, and empathy Carter radiated over the whole evening hit a tipping point.
Why did this have to happen now? And why did he forget to send the payment over to secure the deal. The last thing he needed was these guys thinking he had a thing for one of them and they would call the whole thing off.
They were almost at the landing when Michael felt he had to say something else he would probably be dropped off on top of James' bed where they all could see his dilemma in full view. He mumbled, "I'm sorry, Carter..."
"Really, don't worry about the glasses. I think we got most of that stuff from Ikea," Carter responded.
"No, it's not the broken glasses," Michael replied, swallowed hard, and continued, "It's me..." and moved his eyes away from Carter's to look down at his mid-section above his crotch. He was obviously hard and there was no hiding it.
Carter's eyes followed Michael's new focus, realized what he was talking about and said, "Shh... It's fine. You're young. It happens," and shrugged like it was no big deal.
Michael let out another deep sigh as his heartbeat quickened in response to this weird confession. Trying to take the sting away from his embarrassment, Carter brought him in closer repositioning his arm to raise his top half thereby bringing Michael's ear next to his mouth.
He whispered, "Don't worry, I'll bring you to my room. James doesn't have to know. It's fine."
The warmth of his breadth and moisture hitting his ear made the words not quite register at first. Michael had to replay the sounds in his head to fully comprehend what was just said to him; he started to relax.