Beyond the Sea (23 page)

He thought of Troy’s thumb teasing the head of his dick. Troy’s muffled pants. The only time Brian had touched another guy’s cock, he’d been a curious kid exploring with his friend at summer camp, and there hadn’t been much to it.

Troy’s cock was big and thick, whereas Brian’s was longer. The heft of Troy’s shaft had filled his hand, hot and throbbing and
alive
. He wondered what it would be like to touch more of him, to feel his body hair and powerful muscles, the edges and planes so different from a woman’s soft curves.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Brian realized he was getting hard. Over the years, he’d usually woken with a morning hard-on a few times a week, but not every day. He hadn’t this morning, and yet here he was swelling, his belly tightening and balls tingling as he thought about another man.

The urge to reach into his boxers and touch himself overwhelmed, and Brian gripped his shaft, bending his legs and spreading his knees as he stroked—as he imagined it was Troy touching him again. Biting his lip, he muffled his moans, getting off in no time like an untrained teenager.

What the hell is the matter with me?

Chest heaving, he scrambled to clean himself with the dirty T-shirt by the door. After tugging on his cargo shorts, he crawled outside with the tee in hand.

Troy waved from where he sawed wood some distance away. Brian concentrated on a normal tone. “Morning!” he called.

“
Morning!” Troy answered.

There, that was all nice and normal. The sky was blue, the breeze gentle, and it was another day just like the ones before it. But as Brian splashed into the ocean and scrubbed the cum-stained T-shirt in wet sand, his mind raced. Had he ever been attracted to a man before? Was he
attracted
to Troy now? Or was this just a case of biological need? Of…desert island fever?

He’d admired men’s bodies before. The rugby players on TV, or particularly buff guys at the gym. He could imagine how much time and effort went into acquiring six-packs and sculpted quads, and he appreciated their forms. But he’d never been turned on by them before.

“
Do you want to go try for some fish?”

Brian whirled around guiltily to find Troy a few feet away. “What? Sorry, you startled me.”

Troy smiled, which creased his cheeks and accentuated the cleft in his jaw. “Sorry, dude.” He looked at the tee clutched in Brian’s hands, and his smile faltered. “Everything okay?”

“
Yeah, totally. Laundry day. I’ll go fish in a minute.”

“
I can go if you want.”

“
Nah, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” He wrung out the T-shirt and went to hang it on the rope laundry line before collecting the fishing gear.
Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. BE NORMAL.
“See you in a bit.”

“
Cool. I’ll get the fires going as soon as I can.” Troy picked up the signaling mirror from its rock, flipping it over repeatedly in his hands. “I’ll do the mirror too, obviously.”

“
Great. See ya!” Ugh, that had sounded too fake cheerful.

Brian splashed through the receding tide. “Everything’s fine,” he muttered. “So we got each other off. It’s just lending a friend a hand. Keeping ourselves sane. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

Are we going to do it again?

Despite himself, desire coiled in Brian’s belly, and his breath caught with
want.
He shook his head and muttered, “It’s stress relief. That’s all.”

Squaring his shoulders, he marched on, determined not to overthink it.

“
Cool breeze tonight, huh?” Troy asked. As the sun disappeared from view, he followed Brian’s lead and pulled on his tank top. Grabbing an extra flannel blanket from the teepee for later, he moved closer to the fire and sat.

“
Mmm.” Brian chewed a hunk of papaya, then licked the juice off his fingers one by one.

As Brian sucked his index finger and released it with a little
pop
, Troy’s dick came to life. Brian licked up the length of his next finger, his pink tongue catching every drop. Troy’s nostrils flared, and he jerked his gaze away, drawing his knees up.

Get a grip, dude.

He’d seen Brian lick his fingers before. Eating papaya was a messy business, and it’s not as if they had napkins. If you didn’t get your fingers clean, the sand would stick stubbornly. Brian wasn’t doing anything they hadn’t both done a hundred times.

Yet now that those fingers had touched Troy’s cock, memories tumbled through his mind, sending fire through his blood. It had been so good when Brian touched him. What would his tongue feel like?

Jesus fucking Christ, stop being a total creeper freak!

But he couldn’t stop wondering the same thing he had all day: Were they going to do it again? Would it become a new nighttime ritual along with uncapping water bottles and double checking the cover on the firewood? Quickly and quietly jerking each other off?

Well, why shouldn’t it? They were stuck here for God knew how long, and there was nothing wrong with it. It didn’t mean anything. Didn’t mean they were gay. Not that he had any problem at all with gay people. He was totally LGBTQ friendly. He’d just always dug chicks.

This didn’t mean anything.

Troy chanced a look at Brian a few feet away to find him finished with his dessert and staring out to sea. The waves came in stronger than usual to go with the wind.

Maybe Brian was gay and in the closet? It was hard to say.
Would it bother me if he was?
Troy pondered it. No, it really wouldn’t. It wouldn’t change their situation, and he trusted Brian completely. He supposed being shipwrecked—well,
planewrecked
—had a way of bringing people together.

“
Why’d you break up with your last girlfriend?”
Subtle, Troy. Real subtle.

Brian shifted to sit cross-legged, his eyes on the flames. He toyed idly with the fraying hem of his tank top. “It just wasn’t working out. She couldn’t… It wasn’t her fault. It was me.”

She couldn’t…what? Grow a dick because you realized you liked dudes?
“Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“
No, it’s fine.” Brian looked at him then. He took a breath as if to speak and then turned back to the fire.

Troy wanted to shake the words loose, but he thought of how Brian never pressed him and bit his tongue. Yet after the silence stretched out too long, he blurted, “Was it after the thing that happened? The thing that made you run away to Australia?”

“
I didn’t—” Brian broke off, gripping his hands together in his lap. Finally, he nodded.

“
I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to talk about it.”

“
It’s been a few years since I’ve had to tell it. It was one of the reasons I moved down there.” He smiled humorlessly. “One of the reasons I ran away. So I wouldn’t have to talk about it.”

Troy flushed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“
You didn’t.” Brian looked at him then, his hazel eyes big and expressive and unbearably sad. “I did run away. I ran away from my girlfriend Rebecca, my friends, my life. The survivors.”

Troy’s gut somersaulted. “Survivors?”

“
They’re so grateful, you see? It was a miracle we landed. A miracle anyone made it off before…” He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply.

Troy didn’t know whether to say anything or not. The fire crackled, and in the lingering caramel light of sunset as darkness pressed in, he waited for him to speak. As the seconds ticked by, Troy thought maybe he wouldn’t, but then Brian started talking.

“
It was nothing at first. Nothing. A circuit breaker for the toilet blew. I thought to myself, ‘That’s weird.’ I couldn’t remember ever seeing that happen before. But I wasn’t concerned. Wasn’t even nervous. I thought it was probably a malfunction. Nine times out of ten, that’s what it is. An incorrect reading, an alarm on the fritz. In this case, I figured someone had flushed too many paper towels or something. Jammed up the mechanism. We decided to give it a few minutes before turning it back on. My first officer…” Brian swallowed thickly, his voice going hoarse. “Richard.” He cleared his throat. “Rich was looking it up in the manual when the smoke alarm in the bathroom went off.”

Oh, Jesus.
Troy breathed shallowly as he waited.

“
One of the flight attendants went to check it, and smoke was already coming into the cabin. No visible flames; it was behind the wall. I called ATC right away. Didn’t want to risk it. Declared an emergency.” He poked at the fire, sending a cascade of sparks into the dusk. “I was the captain, so I took control—said ‘My aircraft,’ and Rich replied back, ‘Your aircraft.’ That was the protocol.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I can still hear him say it. ‘
Your aircraft
.’ And it was. I was responsible for it all.”

Troy wanted to say that whatever had happened, it wasn’t his fault even if he was in charge, but he had to let Brian tell it in his own time.

“
There were alarms going off all over the place. Rich and I put on our masks and went through our checklist.” He smiled faintly. “We called them our Vader masks. We could breathe, but it was a different story in the cabin.”

“
But everyone had the little yellow masks, didn’t they?” Troy had never actually seen them drop down from the ceiling, but he’d idly read the safety card on planes a million times.

“
Can’t deploy oxygen in a fire. Those are just for a loss of pressurization. Our masks in the cockpit have a separate oxygen source.”

“
Oh. Right. Wow, I guess I never thought about it. Oxygen and fire don’t mix.” Troy dug his toes into the warm sand near the edge of the fire pit, flexing and curling, flexing and curling. Acid whirled in his belly.

Brian’s faint, humorless smile was haunted. “No. They don’t.” He stared into nothing, as if his mind was somewhere else even though he was talking. “The nearest runway was too far. The fire behind the bathroom burned through the cables. Our electrical systems failed. It’s like dominoes.” He flicked with his finger. “One goes, and they all follow. We’re left with only the most basic controls. Like you’re suddenly flying a WWII bomber but it’s sixty tons. We were lucky. Weren’t at capacity that day.”

A memory flickered through Troy’s mind—flopped on the couch in another anonymous hotel room with
Dateline
or something playing. “Wait, you landed in the field! Jesus, that was
you
? You were a hero.”

Brian hung his head, wincing as if he was in physical pain. Troy reached toward him, but let his hand fall. He waited.

Head still down, Brian gritted out, “Yes, managed to bring it down in a farmer’s field. Landed safely. Stopped safely.”

“
Well… That’s good, right?” Troy tried desperately to remember what else had happened. He knew some people got killed, but couldn’t recall the details.

Lifting his head, Brian stared into the night, his fists clenched. “Rich went back to assist with evac right away. Barely stopped before he was gone. Could hear the flight attendants opening the doors, getting people down the chutes. I couldn’t move. Had to unbuckle, and I couldn’t.”

“
You were hurt?”

He shook his head. “Exhausted. The level of exertion to keep the plane under control was so much. Took every ounce of concentration and strength. I was barely conscious.”

“
Superman!” Troy lowered his voice at Brian’s wince. “That’s what they called you in the press. They said it was next to impossible, what you did.”

“
I knew I had to get back there and help, but I couldn’t. I should have gotten us on the ground faster.”

“
Brian, it’s freaking amazing you were able to land at all.”

He breathed shallowly, so distant now, lost in his memories and guilt. “Still should have done better.”

Troy kept his voice low. “What went wrong?”

Rubbing his face, Brian shook his head. “I can’t. Please.”

Troy wanted to give in and stop asking. It hurt seeing Brian tremble, his whole body shivering despite the campfire close by. But he had to get this out. Troy shifted closer and wrapped his arm around Brian’s back, needing to touch him.

After sucking in a breath, totally rigid, Brian collapsed against him, the sharp weight of his head finding Troy’s shoulder. He was silent for a few ragged breaths.