Under Construction

Under Construction Part II By Robert Burke

When I pulled up to the house the next day, Nathan and Jesus and Mac were laughing. As I got out of the cab, I caught enough of the conversation to realize that Jesus and Mac both felt they'd gotten lucky the night before; they were supposed to see the girls again the following night. It was the first time that I'd seen Nathan talking with them.

Walking over to where they were sitting on the porch, I realized that it was the first time I'd ever heard him laugh. Its full, deep timbre surprised me.

He was wearing an old Green Day T-shirt with a hole starting under one of the pits and I could see the dark hair when he raised his arm. And it looked like he'd finally broken in his jeans.

When he stood up, I noticed that he'd acquired a toolbelt and some tools. I looked at it and at him, raising an eyebrow. He turned a little red, but just shrugged and said, "I went to Home Depot last night after I got off here. Figured that if this job was going to last as long as you think it will, I should probably get some tools."

I nodded. "Good idea."

When I said that I wanted Jesus to work inside with me and that he and Mac should finish clearing out the basement and he gave me a small, quizzical look. I wasn't worried about him and me working together, which I know is what was going through his head. It's just that Jesus has a feel for working with plumbing and pipes and I wanted his help with the rest of the bathroom.

"I could finish clearing out the stuff in the bedroom closet, Blake" he said.

"Maybe later. Now, I'd like you to help Mac with the basement, okay?"

"Okay," he said, adjusting the toolbelt walking past me without looking at me.

I knew he was annoyed, but I wasn't going to change my game plan just because I'd sucked his dick the day before. Maybe it served me right for ignoring my own intuition -- if I'd kept my pants on with Jesus and Mac, why did I think I could make an exception with Nathan? I knew that it'd have to work itself out, but I wasn't going to waste too much time on it.

Surprisingly, the work went smoothly. I knew from the way the water was backing up into the sinks that we'd have to tear the shit out of the place just to snake it and even that was optimistic.

Most likely, we'd end up having to replace most of the plumbing. It didn't make a lot of sense to me, but if Christine and the other partners were willing to foot the bill on it, it didn't matter to me.

Jesus and I decided to try snaking it first and started breaking up some of the concrete in the driveway so we could get at the pipes. We didn't really break for lunch that day. I called the pizza joint a couple of blocks down on BrooklynAve. and they delivered a pizza and some cold drinks.

Nathan and Mac continued hauling stuff out to the dumpsters.

By the time the pizza was delivered, the temperature outside had hit 75.

Jesus and Mac and I had all stripped off our shirts by then and when Nathan came up from the basement, he looked at us briefly and quickly pulled his damp shirt over his head. His body was long and lean and, except for his forearms, very white.

"Blanquito!" I said, as he tucked the shirt into the back of his jeans.

Jesus and Mac started laughing, Nathan started blushing, and the four of us sat on the porch and took our time eating. Jesus and Mac and Nathan were sitting on the lower steps. Jesus and Mac were still talking in Spanish about their luck with the ladies the night before. When I could catch a phrase or two, I'd ask a question and they'd respond in their broken English. Looking down on the three of them, I found myself noticing that patch of dark hair at the base of Nathan's spine and smiling when I saw the plaid pattern of the waistband of his shorts. He was wearing boxers today.

Nathan didn't say much, but tried to keep up with the conversation.

At one point, Mac asked Nathan if he had a "novia" and Nathan looked at me for a translation.

"Girlfriend," I said, smiling. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Nathan looked startled and started to shake his head. When Jesus asked him why he didn't, he started hemming and hawing, but Jesus just looked at him and shook his head and said it was strange because Nathan was "muy guapo".

Nathan looked at me again and I smiled. "He thinks it's funny because you're good looking." I looked at Jesus and crooked my thumb at Nathan.

"Timido," I said.

Jesus looked at Mac and they started laughing and talking so fast that I couldn't keep up anymore. Nathan was looking at me and then at them, kind of smiling, but not sure what was so funny.

I finally held up a hand and asked Mac how the basement was looking and he said that they were close to done. I nodded and said, "Nathan, sounds like the basement is almost finished. You want to finish clearing out the closets in the bedroom?"

"Whatever," he said, wiping some pizza sauce from his chin and getting up and going into the house.

I finished eating with Jesus and Mac and went inside. I found him pulling boxes out of the closet and angrily tossing them to the center of the room.

"Hey," I said.

He ignored me. I walked up behind him and stood there.

Finally, he stopped, staring into the closet. I didn't say a word.

"What?" he finally asked.

"You okay?" I asked. "We need to talk?"

"What about?" he said, stiffening, letting his hands rest firmly on his hips, his thumbs hooked under the waist.

"Maybe about why you're acting so pissy all of a sudden?"

"I'm fine," he said, defiantly.

I put my hands on his bare waist.

"If you're so fine, why aren't you talking to me?" He turned around quickly.

"What did you tell them out there?"

I laughed at him and sighed.

"Is that what this is about?"

I moved toward him and he raised his hand as if he was going to hit me.

I grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm around his back.

"Whoa! Hang on, dude." I said, pushing his arm up just far enough to hurt a little, get his attention, pulling him closer to me. I felt the heat of his skin against my belly and started to get hard. I pressed my crotch to his ass so he could feel it.

"First things first: don't you ever raise your hand to me. We clear?" I applied a little more pressure to his arm and he nodded.

"Good."

Note to self: this dude does a slow burn with a mean temper. Could be promising.

I loosened my grip on his arm and put my hand on his belly. "All I said was that you didn't have a girlfriend because you were shy. "Timido", okay? All they said was that you were good-looking and you didn't need to be shy."

He didn't say a word, but I felt him relax a little.

"Okay?" I asked again.

He nodded his head slowly and I turned him around to face me.

He wasn't crying, but his eyes were glistening and he held his trembling lips tight.

"And you know what?" I asked.

"What?" he replied angrily. I let my hand fall down and cup one of his cheeks.

"They're right."

We were both quiet for a moment.

"Maybe when we're done today, we can go back to my place, clean up, hang out. Just the two of us. You be up for that?"

I heard Jesus call my name and shouted back "Momento!"

"What'd you say?"

"Yeah. Okay. I guess that'd be okay."

"Good; maybe we'll even knock off early today." I said, squeezing his ass.

I called it at four instead of four thirty. Jesus and Mac left together, probably to catch the 82 that ran through Fruitvale. Nathan and I packed up the rest of the gear and put it in the truck. We drove back to my place on the Oakland/Berkeley border. Nathan was quiet and I turned on 105, but kept the volume down in case he changed his mind.

I pulled into the driveway and locked the cab and checked to make sure the locks on the toolboxes were secure. It's a good neighborhood, but just barely, and the first lesson I learned working was to always keep your tools safe.

I opened the door and immediately remembered that I'd left the place looking like a tornado had hit it. I was in the middle of coordinating a bike race in Livermore. It was still a couple of months away, but the living room was stacked with reams of flyers and boxes of promotional equipment from the sponsors.

"Just try and ignore it," I said, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a couple of bottles of beer.

While I listened to the messages on my machine and sorted through the mail, Nathan wandered around the room, looking at the posters, stepping over odd pieces of my bike gear, and sticking his head down the hall.

"Bathroom's at the end, in the bedroom," I said, hitting replay on a message from one of Christine's tenants. "Why don't you hit the shower and I'll be there in a minute."

I returned the tenant's call and persuaded her that mildew on the grout in her bathroom didn't constitute an emergency, but made a note to swing by the next day and check it out. I walked down the hall to the bedroom.

The shower was running and the steam was coming out of the door. Pulling my T-shirt slowly over my head and tossing it in the general direction of the laundry basket, I opened the door.

"Hey!" he yelled, turning around in the shower, his back against the wall.

"What?" I asked, looking at him and then looking behind me, wondering if someone was coming behind me.

All I saw was our reflections in the mirror on top of my bureau.

"I'll be done in a minute," he said, turning his back to me, but watching me over his shoulder.

If it was a gesture of modesty, it was futile, given the clear glass door on the shower stall.

"It's a big shower, Nathan. Thought we could save some water and use it together."

He shook his head and I went back into the bedroom.

I was shaking my head. Definitely a piece of work, I thought, and started to smile as I unlaced my work boots and kicked them off, pulled off my sweaty socks and stood up.

I heard the water go off. I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled the zipper down all the way. I pulled my jeans off, but left my boxer briefs on.

I was already hard and I wanted him to see that, but I didn't want him to see it all just yet.

In a minute, Nathan stood at the door with a large towel wrapped around his middle, drying his hair with another. With his hands over his head like that, his belly was stretched out and I followed the thin dark trail of hair down to his waist. For the first time I noticed his navel, which was small and protruding.

When he saw me standing there, he looked away and walked to the other side of the bedroom.

I picked up his plaid boxers from the floor.

"Hey, what happened to the Calvins?'

I walked over to him and slipped my hand around to his back.

"I told you my mom got those..." he said.

I let my hand run down his back, but didn't try to get him to drop the towel. He leaned back slightly into my touch.

"You never hear of "save water, shower with a friend?" I asked, turning toward the bathroom. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew the look I was going to get.

"What?" he said.

Of course he hadn't heard it. He looked at me like I was telling a riddle.

Hell, I hadn't heard it! It was a bumper sticker from the last time California had a drought and when I first saw it, I was probably ten years younger than he was now and had to ask my mom what it meant.

Still, once I understood it, I kind of liked the idea, drought or no drought.

"Skip it," I said, "any hot water left?"

"Yeah," he said. "I used some of your shampoo, is that okay?"

"No problem," I said, walking into the bathroom, but leaving the door open.

I could feel him watching me as I pulled off my briefs, but I pretended not to notice. My cock was still hard and I gave it a pull for effect without looking back at him and stepped into the shower.

The room was still humid; I turned on the water and, testing it with my hand, I got in. I took my time in the shower, soaping up and paying particular attention to my cock and balls, running my hand around them to my ass, separating the cheeks, and lathering up.

I knew he was watching me -- or at least trying to. When I got into the shower I noticed that he'd left his glasses on the bathroom counter, where they were fogging up again.

I turned the hot water down and let my cock soften a little before getting out of the stall. I pulled a towel off the rack and dried my hair, stretching it across my back, and walked into the bedroom rubbing it against my chest, letting the nub of the towel graze the head of my dick, teasing it.

Nathan was sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd put his shorts back on and was watching me as I wrapped the towel around my waist. When I started to move toward him, he stood up, but didn't move.

"Goin' some place?" I asked.

"No, why?" he said, sounding confused, like maybe he should be going somewhere but had forgotten where. I moved over to him and put my arms around him, kissing his neck.

"Just wondering," I said into his ear. "Looked like you were getting dressed again."

"No, I just thought..."

"Good," I said, lifting my head up.

He looked at me expectantly and opened his mouth again. Before he said anything else, I filled it with my tongue. He put his arms around me, holding me tightly. I rubbed up against him and the towel dropped to the floor. I ran my hands up and down his back, letting them settle on his butt. My cock was hard again and so was his.

I let my hands slip under the waist of his shorts and cupped the cheeks of his butt in my hands. I was thinking of how soft and hairy his ass felt against the rough palms of my hands. I squeezed it and drew him closer. He began to follow my lead, first putting his hands on my back and then letting them move down to my ass.

I remember the first few times I had sex; it's like a Braille of physical geography, figuring out where everything goes, learning by practice and sensation.

I pulled his shorts down over his ass and let them drop to his ankles. His cock was hard, jutting up and against my stomach. I cupped his balls and squeezed them lightly. They contracted slightly at my touch and he moved his mouth back over mine again. I leaned forward a little, pushing him back onto the bed.

I pushed his arms above his head and buried my mouth in his armpits, licking them, kissing them, and pulling softly at the dark hair with my teeth. He began squirming under me, but I held him in place, licking his side, moving my mouth to his nipples, first one, then the other. I sucked them and bit at them gently, then exhaled on the damp spots I'd made over them.

His body began to buck under mine, pushing up insistently, but I held him tight until my tongue traveled down his stomach, tracing the thin pink scar with my tongue and my mouth, and circling around his navel, then sucking on its small protrusion. I raised myself up to a point where I was straddling him, my cock bobbing above his belly. He raised his head, opening his mouth for my dick, but I just let it swing above him.

Looking down on his face, I saw his excitement, his expectation. He opened his mouth slightly and said my name. The third time he said it, I kissed it closed and let my right hand move, holding his cock. I stroked it roughly, up and down, rubbed it against the coarse hair of my butt, and my fingers touched the tip and came away with a single strand of precum. I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger. I raised myself, breaking the kiss, and rubbed it on his lips. His mouth opened and he began sucking my thumb and finger. His arm came around and he held my head, pushing me into his face.

My hand released his cock and moved further down, past his balls, to between his thighs. They opened slightly; I pushed them apart a little more. I used my forefinger to slip between his cheeks and probe a little further, but I felt him tighten and pull up and away from me, though I still had him pinned. I withdrew my finger, and let my hand stroke his thigh.

"Nathan," I said, lying down on him, rubbing my cock against his, pushing it between his strong hairy thighs.

"I want to fuck you so bad. Man, I need to fuck you."

"No!" he said emphatically, turning his head to the side, and starting to try to squirm out from under me. I held him firm.

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't like it. I can't!"

"You mean you won't," I said, rolling off him and lying on my back, not looking at him. "And how the fuck would you know if you if liked it or not? I thought you hadn't done anything with anyone until yesterday."

"I haven't!" he said. "You know I haven't. That's fucked up!"

I made a note to myself: the "f" work again; twice in two days. I was going to have to wash his mouth out.

"Then how do you know you can't?" I asked evenly.

He rolled on his side, looking at me, covering my cock in his still soft hand. I felt it start to grow, but I wouldn't return his gaze.

"You're too big," he said finally.

"I'm not that much bigger than you."

"I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?" I said.

"It would hurt too much."

"You think I'd hurt you?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"Not on purpose," he said, finally. "And besides, it's..."

"It's what? Dirty?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't we both just get out of the shower?"

"You don't want to do it because you think me fucking you would make you my bitch, don't you?" I said, turning to him and looking him in the eye.

I felt his hands knot into fists, but I ignored it.

"Yeah, it would," he said angrily. "I'm not going to be anybody's bitch. Not even yours."

The sun was down. The room was almost dark now.

I didn't say anything, but I was thinking. I was thinking of the first time I'd let another guy fuck me. I was still a teenager, still pretty inexperienced, and the guy, who was almost twice my age, had assumed a lot that he shouldn't have. But he had a hard, tanned body and a hairy chest and I'd wanted him. I'd wanted him so bad, but didn't know what he was doing or what to expect.

He'd spread my legs and slammed into me, ignoring my gasp of pain, ignoring the fact that my cock had gone limp, and just kept thrusting until he came. Then he'd kissed me quickly and rolled over. I ended up giving myself the loneliest jerk of my life and laid there staring at the ceiling, thinking of nothing, feeling my cum dry on my belly.

I didn't get much sleep that night and when his alarm went off in the morning, he said he had to rush. Giving me a five dollar bill to get some coffee, he waited for me to dress and leave.

I felt myself pulling Nathan closer to me. He pulled away at first, but finally put his arm around me and his head on my chest.

"Listen," I said, "do you trust me?"

I felt his head nodding on my chest.

"Good."

He was quiet and I continued in a soft voice.

"So what do you say to giving it a try?" I felt him tense up again.

"What would you say to you fucking me? If it looks like it's hurting me, you can stop, okay? If it doesn't, then say you'll let me try with you. If it's hurting you, we'll stop."

My motives weren't, I knew, entirely altruistic.

I don't know how this whole top/bottom thing started, but I didn't have much use for it. Depending on who I'm with, I'll give it up either way; and I don't have any problems switching off with the right guy.

Fucking is fucking in my book and I don't see any reason to get all pissy about who's doing what to whom. And, besides, whether it was after a long day at work or a long bike ride, I found a good fuck -- giving or getting - to be a great way to loosen up and relax. And if it got me closer to fucking Nathan, well, so much the better.

I wanted to hold those strong hairy thighs of his, spread his cheeks, and bury my face in his ass. I wanted my tongue to loosen him up so much that he'd be begging me to slam him and then do it to him again.

Cockeyed optimism, maybe, but I've always believed nothing ventured, nothing gained, and if it got me closer to getting him to give it up for me, then it was worth the risk.

I let one of my hands slide down the soft white skin of his side and stretched the other out to the nightstand.

I didn't want to give him too much time to think about it.

I rolled over to the nightstand and opened the drawer, reached in and pulled out a bottle of lube and some condoms. I tore one of the condoms open with my teeth, spitting the foil packet on the floor. He was watching me closely, but not apprehensively.

"We don't have to worry about each other," I said, kissing him lightly. "But you're going to have to get this down if you ever have sex with anyone else. And you are," I said, smiling, "going to be having sex with someone else. You're too good to keep it all to yourself."

I took his right nipple in my mouth and began to work it with my mouth. At some point, I'd figured out that it was wired directly to his cock which had started to go soft. After a few nibbles and licks, he was hard again.

I handed him the lube. "Put a little inside of it," I said. He did, but squeezed so hard that it was dripping over the rubber and on to the sheets. "Don't worry about it," I said, taking his hand and unrolling the condom down his cock, stroking it gently when it was in place.

He began to moan and I took his hand and put some more lube on his fingers.

He leaned over and kissed me as my hand guided him past my cock and balls and between my legs. I spread them easily, moving his fingers between the cheeks.

"Blake," he said.

"Get on top of me," I said, hoarsely, cutting him off and pulling him over, still holding on to his cock.

I felt his fingers explore my ass slowly, tentatively, and began to moan myself. His fingers felt my anus pucker and he put first one, then two fingers inside.

It wasn't the most artful insertion, but my legs spread further apart, and I started to raise my hips, my legs closing around his middle. I took his hand and pulled it away, guiding him toward me just far enough so that the hairs around my hole started rubbing the head of his cock.

I took a breath and pushed out, catching it, feeling him push into me.

Once he was in me, he gasped in surprise, realizing for the first time how warm and tight an ass can be. He began thrusting so quickly that I gasped.

"Slow down," I said, knowing that I was asking for the impossible.

He thrust his cock all the way in and began to develop his own rhythm.

I pinched the base of his cock lightly, trying to keep him from coming too fast.

I looked up into his face over me, his mouth open, his eyes rolling, panting more with each thrust. I felt his cock swell even more inside me and pulled him farther into me, bracing himself against the mattress. I could see the muscles in his arms flex and release as he struggled to keep his balance and keep pumping

"C'mon, man, fuck me! Fuck me!"

"C'mon, harder! Fuck me, Nathan!" I said, slapping his ass, just hard enough to encourage him without distracting him.

He began a series of hard short thrusts. He felt so big inside of me that I wondered who was actually bigger, but the harder he fucked me, the tighter my legs and arms grew around him. My cock was softer but pumping out precum as I felt my balls contract up.

In one last thrust, he yelled, "Oh, god! Oh, god fuck! Oh fuck Blake!" and I knew he was coming.

He collapsed over me and I felt the sweat of our skins, the hairs on our chests.

His face was buried on the bed beside me and I felt his cock start to get soft, slipping slowly out of my ass. It had been quick, but it had been a good pounding. I reached under him and held the base of his cock as the condom slipped off.

I brought the slick condom out from under me and held it to the side. He'd filled the reservoir and more.

"Think this belongs to you," I said, laughing softly.

He looked up at me drowsily and smiled.

Leaning over me, he kissed my neck hard -- we'd have to talk about hickies later -- and kissed me quickly on the lips.

"Roger that," he said, nodding and laying his head into the crook of my neck.

I let my legs relax around him and my hand move down to the small of his back and his ass. Stroking him slowly, I realized that he was falling asleep. So was I.

End Part II