I Never Told What Happened on the Yacht That Night

The sun had disappeared behind the cliffs of Formentera more than two hours earlier, but the air was still warm, heavy with salt and pine resin. Our yacht rocked slowly in the middle of an unnamed cove, surrounded by rock walls that formed a natural amphitheater above the black water. There wasn’t another boat in sight. Not a light on the shore. Only the stars and the sound of the water against the hull.

Inside, everyone was asleep. Lucía had collapsed in the master cabin after three bottles of rosé and an afternoon I’d rather not detail here. Marta and Paula had ended up in the guest suite, tangled together as always when they drank too much. Diego and Jaime were snoring on the aft deck, covered with a towel that covered nothing. Captain Sergio was asleep in his cabin. Claudia, the stewardess, had curled up on one of the lower sofas.

I’d been sitting in the bow for a while, alone in nothing but black swim trunks and the remnants of a joint I’d rolled more out of habit than need. At forty-four, my body still held up well: broad shoulders, defined arms, a couple of decades of swimming and martial arts etched into every fiber. Tattoos covered both my arms all the way up to my neck and halfway across my chest. My hair, which fell below my shoulders, had dried in messy strands after my last swim.

I couldn’t sleep. My body was relaxed, sated even, but my head was spinning. The afternoon had been a beautiful mess, the kind that only happens when you’ve been anchored for three days with people who trust you and don’t need impressing. I’d fucked Lucía against the rail while Paula licked my back, then Claudia had swallowed me while Marta rubbed herself against my leg, and in the end the six of us had ended up tangled in a knot of mouths, cunts, and cocks that lasted until the sun started beating down hard. But there was something nagging at me, and it had nothing to do with any of the women who’d passed through my bed that afternoon.

I heard bare feet on the teak. I didn’t turn around. I knew who it was.

Nico appeared from the side of the cabin, a lit joint between his fingers and that slow gait he had when no one was watching. Twenty-five years old, five-foot-ten, the sculpted body of someone who lives in a gym and eats clean. Flat, defined abdomen, hard pecs, skin tanned after a whole summer working deck. He wore light gray swim trunks hanging low on his hips, outlining the bulge without hiding it, and his brown hair was tousled from the nap.

—I’m not the only insomniac —he said in that rough voice he used when he lowered the volume.

—After a day like that, the body switches off but the head doesn’t —I replied, making room for him on the lounger beside me—. Sit down. There’s plenty of space.

He sat close enough that our shoulders almost touched. He took a long drag and sent the smoke up, drawing a white line against the black sky. He smelled like weed and old sunscreen.

—It’s been a crazy afternoon —he said without looking at me, eyes fixed on the stars—. I can’t get it out of my head.

—Which part exactly?

He took a moment before answering. I saw his tongue pass over his lower lip, that gesture he made when he was deciding whether to say something or keep quiet. He decided not to keep quiet.

—The part where you had Lucía against the rail, pulling her hair and driving it all the way in while Paula was licking your ass from behind. Your tattoos shining with sweat, your muscles tense, your cock going in and out of her like you wanted to split her in two. I couldn’t stop watching you.

I turned my head toward him. His eyes were still fixed on the sky, but his breathing had changed. Shorter. More aware.

—And you liked that? —I asked flatly, like someone asking about the weather.

—I got rock hard —he said, this time looking at me—. I don’t know if I should say it, but I got harder than with all the women together. There’s something about the way you fuck, Adrián. It’s not just strength. It’s control. It’s like you know exactly when to squeeze and when to let go.

So that’s what this was. I’d felt it all afternoon, that particular tension between two men who desire each other and don’t say it. I’d noticed the way Nico looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. The way he always positioned himself within my field of vision. The way, during the afternoon orgy, his eyes kept coming back to me again and again, even when he had Claudia naked on top of him, fucking her doggy-style.

I passed him my joint. Our fingers brushed and neither of us pulled away.

—You weren’t bad yourself —I said, leaning back a little more, letting the swim trunks pull tight over what was starting to grow underneath—. I saw you with Claudia, the way you grabbed her hips while the captain was fucking her mouth. You fucked her like you wanted to empty yourself all inside her. You’ve got good rhythm, kid. And a cock that knows how to work.

Nico took a drag and smiled to one side, that crooked smile that made him look like a mischievous kid trapped in a man’s body.

—Were you watching me?

—I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Especially when you shoved your load all the way in and she started shaking.

The silence that followed was heavy. Not uncomfortable. Dense, charged, like the air before a thunderstorm. I could hear his breathing, the creak of the lounger as he moved a few inches closer, the brush of his thigh against mine. Hot skin against hot skin. I lowered my gaze for a second and saw the bulge pressing against the gray fabric, a wet spot growing at the tip.

—Tonight there are no bosses or employees —I said, turning toward him—. Just two guys smoking in a deserted cove while everyone sleeps. Tell me what you’re really thinking.

Nico put out the joint against the armrest of the lounger and looked at me with a frankness I hadn’t seen before. His pupils had dilated. When he spoke, his voice came out lower, slower.

—I’m thinking about what it would be like to kneel between your legs right now. Pull your trunks down and take your cock out. Feel the weight of your shaft in my hand. In my mouth. I want to know what a man like you tastes like, Adrián. I want to suck you until I choke. I’ve had a hard-on all day thinking about it and I’m sick of pretending.

My body reacted before my head did. I felt the blood rush downward, my cock growing fast against the thin fabric of my swim trunks until the tip pushed up above the elastic. I didn’t bother hiding it. By then, pretending would have been insulting to both of us.

—Come here —I said.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He got up from the lounger and knelt between my legs with a naturalness that surprised me. As if he’d been rehearsing it all afternoon. He put his hands on my thighs and slid them upward, slowly, tracing the tattoos with his fingertips. When he reached the edge of my trunks, he looked up.

—Sure?

—Take it out.

He pulled my trunks down carefully and my cock sprang free, hard, throbbing, with a thick drop of precum shining on the head. Nico stared at it for a second, mouth slightly open, as if sizing it up. It was thick, veined, the head swollen and dark from the blood pooled inside it. I saw him swallow.

—Fuck —he muttered—. It’s bigger than it looked in the trunks.

—Try it.

Nico didn’t go straight in. First he ran his fingers along it, learning it, measuring the thickness by closing his fist around the shaft. Then he leaned in and licked from base to tip with a flat tongue, gathering the drop of precum and tasting it with his eyes closed. He kissed the head, just the brush of lips, and looked up at me with an expression that mixed hunger and something close to devotion.

Then he opened his mouth and swallowed me whole in one motion. I felt the tip hit the back of his throat and him hold it there for a few seconds before rising slowly, lips pressed around the shaft, leaving a trail of hot saliva dripping down to my balls. I closed my eyes and threw my head back. His tongue was warm and precise, moving with a confidence that belied any supposed inexperience.

—Fuck, Nico —I growled—. You suck cock like a fucking professional.

He moaned around my cock and sped up. He started pumping with his head, taking me to the back of his throat on every downward stroke, sucking hard on the way up, leaving my balls dripping with spit. Every so often he’d pull my cock out of his mouth, spit over the head, and smear it across his face, rubbing his cheek, his chin, letting the saliva mix with his sweat. Then he’d take me back in with even more hunger.

I put my hand on the back of his neck, not pushing, just so he’d know I was there. He responded by grabbing my wrist and pressing it against his head, telling me to press harder, to use him, to shove it in without mercy. I grabbed his hair with both hands, tangling the brown strands between my fingers, and started fucking his mouth with long, slow thrusts, feeling his throat give way every time I drove in deep.

—That’s it —I panted—. Swallow it all, fuck. More, deeper.

Nico was choking but he didn’t pull away. Tears ran down his cheeks, saliva streamed from his chin, and still he kept asking for more with his eyes. The vibration of every moan he let out ran straight through my cock.

—Fuck, Nico —I murmured—. You suck it like you’ve been thinking about it for months.

He pulled back for a second, lips wet and reddened, a thick strand of saliva shining between his mouth and my cock. His dick was red, glossy, dripping.

—Since I saw you the first day at the port —he said, and swallowed me again before I could answer.

The rhythm intensified. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into the tattoos, while his head moved up and down with animal cadence. I set the pace with his hair, fucking his mouth harder and harder. He moaned with his throat full, and every moan squeezed my cock like a ring.

At some point I looked down and saw him pulling his cock out of his trunks, thick and curved, stroking himself with his free hand, smearing his pre-cum with his thumb and rubbing himself fast again. That image —Nico on his knees between my legs, naked under the stars, my cock down to the uvula and his dripping onto the teak deck— was what pushed me over the edge.

—Stop —I told him, tugging his hair back—. Stop or I’m going to come in your mouth and I won’t be able to fuck you after.

He pulled away, panting, eyes shining and lips swollen, saliva streaming from his chin. He looked at me like he was waiting for instructions, and in that gesture I found something I hadn’t expected: absolute trust. He was giving himself over without reservation, and that turned me on more than any technique.

—Take off your trunks and turn around —I said—. Lean on the rail. Legs apart.

He stood and let the gray trunks fall to the teak deck. The moon had come up behind the cliffs and lit his back, the marked shoulder blades, the curve of his waist narrowing down to his hips and a round, hard gym-built ass. He walked the three steps to the bow rail and braced himself with his arms outstretched, spreading his feet well apart. He turned his head to look at me over his shoulder.

—Don’t be gentle —he said—. Put it in all the way.

I came up behind him and ran my hands over his hips, up his sides, tracing every muscle of his back to his shoulders. I kissed the nape of his neck and went down along his spine, gently biting each vertebra until I reached the base. I spread his cheeks with both hands and knelt behind him.

—What are you doing? —he panted.

—Preparing you.

I buried my face between his ass cheeks and ran my flat tongue over his hole, slowly, from bottom to top. Nico arched into me and let out a strangled moan, gripping the rail harder. I licked him calmly, drawing circles around the hole, making it good and wet, pushing the tip of my tongue inside until I felt him give way. He smelled like salt, sweat, and clean man.

—Fuck, Adrián —he groaned—. Fuck, fuck, don’t stop.

I shoved my tongue deep and started fucking his ass with it, pulling out and pushing back in, while I held his cock from the front and jerked him off at the same rhythm. He trembled, pushed his ass back against my face, muttered my name through his teeth so as not to wake anyone. I left him thoroughly soaked in saliva and then slid in one finger, then two, opening him slowly, finding that inner spot that made him bite the rail.

—Now, Adrián —he panted—. Now, please. Put it in.

I stood behind him, spat on my cock, and rubbed it against the hole, coating it well. I placed the head at the entrance and pushed slowly. The tip went in first, slow, and I felt Nico’s white-knuckled grip on the rail as he held his breath. I stopped for a second, letting him get used to it, then pushed a little more. And a little more. Until I was buried in him to the balls, my pelvis pressed to his ass and my tattoos shining in the moonlight against his skin.

—Fuck —he moaned—. Fuck, so big, fuck.

—Can you take it?

—Fuck me. Fuck me, Adrián, please, fuck me.

I pulled almost all the way out and drove back in with one thrust. Nico cried out against his arm, biting into his own skin so he wouldn’t wake the whole boat. I started slowly, pulling out until only the head remained inside and then driving back in deep, setting a slow, deep rhythm that made his legs shake. Every thrust drew a low moan from the back of his throat.

—Like that, fuck, like that —he panted—. Harder.

I grabbed his hips, digging my fingers into his skin, and sped up. The sound of my pelvis slapping against his ass mixed with his gasps and the water hitting the hull. I fucked him without mercy, driving deep, feeling his ass open to my rhythm, feeling him relax and at the same time clamp down on my cock like a hot fist every time I went all the way in.

—You’re a slut, Nico —I growled in his ear, grabbing his hair and pulling back—. A beautiful slut. Look how you squeeze my cock with your ass.

—I’m yours —he moaned—. I’m your slut tonight, Adrián, do whatever you want to me.

I bent him over the rail, almost horizontal, and started fucking him harder, faster, driving into that inner spot that made him scream against his forearm. I wrapped one arm around his chest, pinning him against me, and with the other hand I grabbed his cock from the front. It was hard as stone, dripping against the rail, a line of bright drops sliding to the teak deck. I started jerking him off to the same rhythm I was fucking him, squeezing hard, sliding my thumb over the head on every upward stroke.

—Adrián —he panted—. Adrián, Adrián, I’m going to come, fuck, I’m going to come.

—Come —I growled in his ear, biting his earlobe—. Come with my cock inside you.

I felt his whole body tighten. His cock swelled in my hand, his balls drew up, and then he started coming in thick streams that splashed the rail, the deck, my fingers. Each spasm tightened his ass around my cock, milking me, and I drove into him to the hilt and held there, feeling him tremble all over. His semen dripped hot through my fingers.

—Fuck, you come so well —I groaned.

—Come inside, Adrián —he panted, still trembling—. Come inside me, fill me, fuck, fill me all the way.

That was all I needed. I grabbed his hips with both hands and gave him the last brutal, full-force thrusts, feeling my load gather at the base. I buried myself in him one last time and exploded inside him, unloading in long, hot bursts that felt endless. I bit his neck to smother the cry, clenching my teeth against his skin while I kept coming, filling him, feeling semen leak around my cock and run down the inside of his thigh.

I stayed inside him for a good while, my forehead against his neck and my heart hammering my ribs. I could feel my own cum still pulsing inside his ass, his broken breathing against my arm, the taste of his sweat in my mouth.

When I finally pulled out, a thick thread of semen followed and ran down his thigh to his knee. Nico turned slowly, still gripping the rail, and looked down at himself. Then he looked at me, with a tired half-smile and lips still swollen.

***

We stayed like that for a while, breathing, not moving. The night air cooled our skin as the adrenaline ebbed. When we finally pulled apart completely, Nico leaned back against the rail, his cock still half-hard and hanging between his legs while my cum slid slowly down the inside of his thigh. He looked at me with a tired half-smile.

—And now what? —he asked.

—Now nothing —I replied, looking for the second joint we’d left on the lounger—. We smoke another one, look at the stars, and tomorrow we’re back in our places.

—And this?

—This stays here. In this cove, on this night. A secret between you and me.

Nico nodded slowly, took the joint I offered him, and had a long drag. The two of us sat down on the deck, backs against the rail and legs stretched out, staring at the sky. Our shoulders touched. We smoked in silence until the horizon began to lighten in the east.

When I went down to the cabin, Lucía was still asleep in the same position. I got into bed carefully, still smelling of salt, weed, and Nico’s skin. I closed my eyes and for the first time in a long while I fell asleep with a smile that wasn’t for her.

Three months have passed. We haven’t spoken about that night again. But every time Nico brings me coffee at the office, our eyes meet a half-second longer than necessary, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. About the bow of the yacht, the stars over Formentera, and the line we crossed together that neither of us wants to uncross.