Zephaniah Deakin, the server in the snack bar at the gay bathhouse, stood at the window, staring down into the courtyard garden. The café didn’t open officially for another ten minutes and Roger Woodhead, the cook, hated to be disturbed during his early morning preparations. Roger with his crisp, short black hair, and impenetrable black eyes.
Well Zeph wanted to disturb him. Zeph wanted to unzip his houndstooth chef’s pants, pull them down to his ankles, and swallow his huge, delicious cock whole. He wanted to kiss Roger’s sweet, unbelieving mouth until neither of them could breathe. And then he wanted to bend over the counter or any one of the tables here while Roger fucked him fast and hard until both of them came screaming in release.
There was just one itsy bitsy teensy weensy problem with his list of desires.
Roger didn’t want him. Well, likely he wanted him as the server here. But not as a lover. Zeph liked his job at the bathhouse. It was really good not to have anyone stare at him and comment on his habit of wearing short shorts or skin-tight jeans and half a dozen chains around his neck. If he could just make his way into Roger’s bed, life would be perfect. But every time he tried to interest Roger it was like banging his head on a brick wall. Roger totally ignored him. Their daily conversations generally consisted of two words frequently repeated. “Meal’s ready.”
And if Zeph tried to chatter about the day’s events, people they knew, the weather, anything at all, Roger turned his back and began cooking something, or cleaning something, or even washing dishes, which was Zeph’s job when the place was quiet.
Damn, fuck, and shit. How can I get him to look at me? Truly look at me?
From up here on the second floor the garden looked really attractive. The gardeners worked hard to ensure there were always flowers in bloom, and evergreen bushes and shrubs as well as deciduous trees in winter. Not that Zeph was interested in being outdoors mostly. He liked a nice mild temperature all year around and saw no need at all to be outside apart from the commute from his apartment to work and home again. That was another advantage of working here at the bathhouse. He could sit on a lounge chair beside the pool and talk to people as much as he wanted to when he wasn’t on shift.
He still liked to go to Pinky’s bar at times though. He wanted to be held and to dance, and since Roger wouldn’t look at him, the only place where he could relax was the gay bar. Damn Roger. Why wouldn’t he talk to him? What was his problem? He was the sexiest man Zeph had ever met even though he picked his nails until they were so short they bled. He had to wear latex gloves to cook and serve the food because he was always torturing his nails. Zeph was sure he could give Roger the kind of blowjob that would keep him relaxed until he had no need to worry his poor defenseless fingernails ever again.
At exactly ten a.m. Zeph opened the roller door to the snack counter and began setting up the coffee machine. It was a temperamental thing, and everything always had to be done exactly right, or it was likely to spit hot water or coffee at him. Mel, the manager’s personal assistant, liked her coffee just so, and Zeph always made hers first because he knew she’d be up here at 10:15 sharp, desperate for her mid-morning wake-me-up.
The bathhouse itself was open at six, because there was a group of serious fitness fanatics who liked to swim laps in the morning before going to work. But the place didn’t really wake up until ten thirty or even eleven. That’s when people wandered in for some brunch or an early lunch after swimming and a sauna. The afternoons and evenings blended together, with people visiting for more erotic reasons than just exercise. Or, Zeph snorted, to have a more personal kind of exercise, maybe. Damn he wished he and Roger could head upstairs to one of the private rooms for a little personal exercise. Whatever am I to do with the man? How the fuck can I show him I want him when he won’t talk to me?
Just as usual, the machine was ready when Mel appeared. “Abe wants a coffee as well this morning, please, and a cookie or donut if there are any.”
“Uh-huh. He’s gone off that diet has he? I always think those celebrity diets are a load of trash.” Zeph hurried back to the coffee machine to make the manager’s coffee. He liked it extra strong.
“Not everyone is skinny like you, Zeph. I think Abe’s started to worry about developing a bit of a paunch now he’s turned forty. I’m glad he broke up from his ex. The bathhouse has improved in leaps and bounds since he did.”
Zeph handed her the two coffees on a cardboard tray, as Roger passed a paper sack across the counter. “You tell the boss from me he needs some sugar to keep thinking up brilliant new ideas to improve the bathhouse. Letting Bart display his paintings and drawings here was pure genius. People come to the cafe just to look at them and end up buying a snack or a coffee while they’re here. He needs to come up with a few more ideas like that.”
Zeph just stared at Roger. That was the longest sentence he’d heard from the cook in weeks. And he’d never seen Roger give the artworks displayed on the long internal wall more than a casual glance. I need to stay back later tonight and see if Roger will talk to me then.
Roger wrapped his arms around Zeph’s narrow body, flattening his palms against Zeph’s back. There was no denying Zeph was unusually thin for a man. But his back was solid muscle, and so were the legs entwining with his. He knew Zeph was strong. He never had to make two trips to serve a table of guests, no matter how heavy the tray. Actually Zeph was damn deceptive looking in every way. His outlandish clothing, or lack thereof, gave the impression of a much younger man, but his face showed he was older than he appeared, and his attitudes were mature and carefully thought out.
“How old are you, Zeph?”
“Twenty-four. I’m well and truly legal, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, I’m not worried. I knew you were legal or you wouldn’t be allowed to work here. I was just curious.”
“Okay, I’m curious, too. What are you? A couple of years older than me? Three?”
“Four. I just turned twenty-eight last month.”
“You should have told me. We could have had a cake.”
Roger grunted. He hadn’t actually remembered the date at all until he’d gotten home from work and found a birthday card in his mail box. But he’d already decided to buy himself a painting when Bart brought one along that he really liked. That would be the perfect gift for himself. Bart was going to be famous one day, Roger was sure of that, and he wanted one of his original works. Besides, they were amazingly good. The artist was incredibly talented.
He rubbed his hand up and down Zeph’s back, tracing the muscles and bouncing across ribs and knobs on his spine. Zeph’s ass was a tight little knot of muscles, too, but he widened his legs and thrust it up into Roger’s hand, clearly wanting Roger to touch him.
Roger couldn’t hold back, He stroked the skin and then traced Zeph’s butt crack, teasing a finger around the tiny rosette of Zeph’s entry. He reached out for the jar of lube, twisting hard to release the cap, and then dipping two fingers inside it. He scooped the gel out, rubbing it over Zeph’s entry, and Zeph instantly tried to wiggle and drive his fingers deeper.
“Slow down. Let’s do this properly.”
He scooped more lube and began again, rubbing the tight muscle ring and gradually pressing the tip of a finger inside. Zeph’s cock was digging into his thigh. It was long, hot, and hard between them, and his own dick was just as aroused. Roger took a deep breath to retain complete control, but it was difficult with such an energetic lover as Zeph in his arms.
“Can you lie still for a minute?”
“Why? I want to move.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that waiting is good? It enhances the experience.”
“Yes, but I don’t listen to other people. I do things my way.”
Roger used his other hand to slap Zeph’s ass. “Topping from the bottom are we?”
Zeph laughed. “Only when I have to. A man could die of old age around here waiting for some action to happen.”
Now Roger laughed. He moved a little faster to prepare Zeph’s ass, but he wanted to do it properly. He certainly didn’t want Zeph hurt, so he had to be sure the muscles were soft, loose, and properly prepared.
Only when he was quite sure Zeph was ready did he put the jar of lube back on the nightstand and say, “Okay. Hand me one of those condoms, please.”
Zeph snorted and riffled through the pile. “Oh, I like this one. The ridges all over it feel very exciting.”
Roger lifted a hand to take it, but Zeph shook his head and sat up, sliding back down Roger’s legs a little way. He rolled the latex on very carefully, and then kissed the sheathed head of Roger’s cock. Roger wished he’d kissed him before putting the condom on, but it was still a sweet action and he appreciated it.
Zeph climbed off him and lay on his back, his legs held up over his forearms. Roger grabbed his lover’s hips and lined up his dick, pushing firmly at the entry and then smoothly as he slid inside.
“Fuck, you’re hot. And tight.”
Roger had to stop to regain control of himself. It’d been a long time, and Zeph was so desirable and so perfectly welcoming, it was killing him taking it slowly. But otherwise he’d shoot his seed in two seconds flat and that would be a tragedy. He stopped again when he was fully seated.
“What are you waiting for? Why do you keep stopping?” complained Zeph.
“I want to get this right. I want it to be good for both of us.”
“It’s already good. It’d be even better if we were actually fucking, not just lying here.”
Roger kept his hands on Zeph’s hips, but leaned over him and kissed him. It seemed the man would keep talking unless his mouth was otherwise occupied, and Roger had the perfect solution for that.
Except that Zeph was such a hot kisser, that didn’t solve the problem at all. In no time they were dueling tongues, tasting and testing each other everywhere, until they were both breathless. Now Roger pulled out of Zeph and slammed back in again. Zeph pinched his nipples, making Roger blink from the sharp little nips. He didn’t want to take his hands of Zeph’s hips, so he just had to put up with it as he drove back in again.
Gradually he moved faster until Zeph took his hands off Roger and began tugging on his own cock. Roger took that as a sign to thrust even harder, tilting Zeph’s hips higher to get an extra inch of penetration on each thrust. Zeph was hot, tight, and perfect. Every stroke was pure delight, teasing along his dick so smoothly and driving him crazy with need.