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Date: Thu, 28 Nov 2024 11:27:41 +0000
From: Casual Wanderer <casualwandererniftystories@gmail.com>
Subject: SEAGULL'S BAY | CHAPTER 3

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Chapter Three
"In The Shattering Of Things"

Nicholas slowly stirred, his eyes adjusting to the soft light as he
turned his head, seeing Beth sleeping soundly beside him. Her chest rose
and fell in a gentle rhythm, her features relaxed. But as he looked upon
her, a sharp pang of guilt shot through his heart. The lingering memories
of his escapade from the previous night clung to him like a dark cloud.
Try as he might, he couldn't shake off the heavy burden of remorse that
now bore down upon him.

The vision of Marcus writhing in pleasure as Ledger and Dawson fucked his
hole into submission consumed Nicholas' every thought. He had only gone
to retrieve his jacket from the boy's house but instead found himself
peering through the window, unable to look away from the enthralling fuck
show unfolding before him. The raw, uninhibited display between those
three men was etched into his mind. His already festering longing grew
more explicit and carnal as he indulged in twisted fantasies, imagining
himself in those men's places, basking in the feel of his throbbing cock
sliding inside Marcus' inviting pucker. Every detail of that moment
replayed relentlessly in his mind. Ledger's massive dick pushing inside
Marcus. Dawson's laughter as he watched. The sounds that broke from
Marcus' mouth. His perfect, smooth body crushed into the mattress. The
moans, the groans, the wails, and the howls. And the smell. Fuck, the
smell. A cocktail of cum, spit, sweat, and booze, each adding fuel to the
fire of Nicholas' growing lust, now impairing his mind and numbing his
every thought.

Silently, he slipped out of the warm cocoon of blankets and tiptoed
across the creaky floorboards to the bathroom, his hand already stroking
his cock. He walked over to the toilet and gently opened the lid, sitting
down. By now, he was fired up, pumping his meat, his orgasm a breath
away. After all, he had been replaying in his mind for the last couple of
hours what was now his most vivid sexual fantasy, enacted before his eyes
just hours earlier.

"Fuck..." Nicholas softly groaned, his breath trying to keep steady and
low as he beat his meat with gusto. He could feel it coming. He had been
edging himself for hours. And just as the first warm waves began to
tickle his groin, a soft knock on the door broke his concentration.

"Nicholas, is everything alright?" Beth's voice called.

"Mother fucker..." Nicholas stammered through gridded teeth. He could
feel the anger and frustration building, a sharp rage brewing.

"I heard you panting," Beth insisted, her voice gentle and concerned. But
at this point, Nicholas was over it.

"I'm taking a shit, Beth. Do you mind?" he said, words rough and
disparaging. He immediately rued his outburst, sensing his wife's feet
moving away, back to bed. As he glanced back down, he frowned. His soft
cock rested inside his hand, looking positively depressed. Nicholas
sighed, his neck falling back, eyes on the ceiling.

After a quick rinse, he tiptoed out of the room, bypassing Beth and
descending the stairs to the kitchen. The soft morning light sifted
through the windows, a hazy glow sweeping over the room as he prepared a
pot of coffee. His thoughts drifted back to Marcus as he waited for it to
brew. But the setting had shifted. He was now focused on the intensity in
the boy's eyes and his lips's raw vulnerability. The energy of the kiss
they had shared felt quite different from what he had witnessed later on.
And strangely enough, Nicholas felt he had tapped into a part of the boy
he kept hidden, a part that wasn't present when Ledger and Dawson were
fucking him.

His phone buzzed as he sat at the kitchen table, lingering on his
thoughts and sipping his coffee. It was Tom.

"Hey, man," Tom's cheerful and inviting voice greeted through the
speaker. "We're having a barbecue at our house. You and Beth should join
us," he added. Nicholas hesitated, glancing at the upstairs hallway
towards his room where Beth had fallen back asleep.

"Sure. Why not...what time?" he asked.

"Come by around noon," Tom said. "Bring the boys. We have a pool. Plenty
of food and drinks, too," he enticed.

"We'll be there," Nicholas replied, his eyes squinting as the sunlight
coming through the kitchen window covered his eyes.

"Now that's what I'm talking about. Later, man!" Tom said before
unceremoniously ending the call.

Nicholas lingered there, the phone still leaning against his ear, before
finally punching it over the counter. He knew he couldn't let this
obsession take control and overshadow his judgment. After all, he had a
whole day to get through. He began pacing around the kitchen, determined
to distract himself. He chopped some mushrooms and peppers with quick,
precise movements and sizzled bacon on the stovetop.

Beth eventually woke up and joined him in the kitchen, her familiar
presence slightly comforting.

"Morning," she said, giving him a warm smile. "What's the plan?" she
asked, sitting on one of the stools, her gaze still vacant.

"Tom invited us for a barbecue at their beach house," Nicholas replied,
trying to sound casual. Beth's face frowned.

"Did you say yes?" she immediately questioned.

"...yes," Nicholas replied, causing her eyes to roll to the back of her
head. "I bet she's not that bad. I mean, she married Tom, and he's pretty
laid back," Nicholas reasoned.

"They're both weird. And rich...and..." she muttered like a spoiled
child.

"Hey, look at me," Nicholas said, sliding his elbows over the counter.
"We need to mingle," he argued before his eyes peeked at Jett and
Brandon's rooms. "And it might be good for the boys," he added, knowing
Beth would concede to anything for her children. She took a deep breath,
exhaling deeply.

"Fine," she finally said. Nicholas smiled and slid a plate with the most
perfectly cooked omelet in front of her. "God, I love you," she muttered,
picking up her fork and taking a massive bite into her mouth.

The hours passed uneventfully as they prepared for the barbecue. Brandon,
of course, needed some convincing, but after fifteen minutes of grilling
and passive-aggressive back and forth, he conceded.

Nicholas felt a wave of leisure wash over him as they finally arrived at
the Marshall's stunning beach house. The property exuded charm, with its
large wooden deck perched on the ocean's edge, offering breathtaking
views of the sparkling water. The scent of charcoal and sizzling meat
stemmed from the already smoking grill in anticipation of what promised
to be a mouthwatering feast.

Tom's face lit up with a broad, genuine grin as he greeted them at the
door. Jodie welcomed them warmly, her eyes sparkling with condescending
energy. But despite what Beth expected, the two families mingled easily,
Jett darting off to play with Tom's boys, Seth and Marty, while the
adults settled into comfortable conversations. Brandon barely spoke,
popping his sunglasses on and wandering around the property for a few
minutes before finally coasting on one of the sunbeds.

Beth and Jodie quickly connected, their chatter flowing like a cakewalk,
forming an instant bond over their somewhat similar experiences. Contrary
to what Beth had initially thought, Jodie revealed herself as a warm,
down-to-earth person. Her shallow veneer quickly fading as their
conversation veered into personal territory.

"It's tough sometimes," Beth confided as they sat on the deck, sipping
iced tea. "I feel like we're always pushing through for the kids, but
keeping things together is hard," she confessed. Jodie nodded
sympathetically.

"I know exactly how you feel," Jodie acknowledged. "God...sometimes I
just want to kill him," she disclosed, a playful tone to her words as she
gazed at her husband flipping burgers. "Tom and I have had rough patches,
too, but we try to make it work," she said, focusing her attention back
on Beth.

"How?" Beth questioned, exhaling with frustration. "I can barely get his
attention," she confessed, her eyes locked on Nicholas, who stood by the
grill, talking to Tom.

"Separate bathrooms," Jodie quipped, causing Beth to chuckle. "And I
ignore the fact that his browser is stacked with porn," she added. Beth's
eyes grew in surprise. "And honey, you don't even wanna know the kind of
things I've seen in there," she razzed, ushering a complicitous giggle
between the two.

"But..." Beth stammered. "Are you okay with that?" she asked.

"Look, men are pigs. I know I can't satisfy my husband's every kink,"
Jodie whispered. "But I rather deal with a porn addiction than an
affair," she added, her eyes changing slightly as if a sudden sadness had
taken over them. Beth's gaze waved at Jodie, welcoming a newfound respect
for that woman she now felt guilty for so obviously and harshly
misjudging.

Meanwhile, Brandon's sharp chestnut eyes had taken a keen, unexpected
interest in Tom. Like a predator stalking its prey, he had moved away
from the seclusion of his sunbed and now shadowed the silver-haired host
around the grill, always just a step behind. With each question and
calculated comment, his intentions were clear: to make Nicholas feel
excluded and to drive a wedge into his father's good mood. His actions
were almost cruel, as if he took pleasure in the conflict. Despite the
pleasant atmosphere, Nicholas felt a growing, gnawing sense of irritation
fueled by Brandon's antagonistic behavior as the boy seemed to be going
out of his way to provoke him, making it increasingly difficult for
Nicholas to keep his cool.

Needing a break, he excused himself and went inside the house to find the
bathroom. As soon as he stepped through the sliding glass doors, the
noise from outside was muted, replaced by the quiet elegance of Tom and
Jodie's home. The interior of the house was nothing short of
breathtaking. The entryway opened into a spacious living area with
vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning ocean
view. The decor was modern yet comfortable, with plush sofas and
armchairs arranged around a large stone fireplace. A grand piano sat in
one corner, its polished surface caroming the afternoon sunlight.
Nicholas walked further in, his footsteps muffled by the thick,
cream-colored carpets. The walls were adorned with tasteful artwork.
Abstract pieces that added splashes of color to the room's neutral tones.
He admired the balance of style and comfort, noting the subtle touches
that conveyed wealth and careful curation. There were custom-built
shelves filled with books and decorative items and a large, flat-screen
TV mounted above the fireplace.

He wandered into the dining area, where a massive wooden table,
surrounded by high-backed chairs, dominated the space. The table was
already set for dinner, with elegant place settings and a vase of fresh
flowers as the centerpiece. Beyond the dining room was the kitchen,
separated by a large island with granite countertops and state-of-the-art
appliances. It exuded warmth and functionality with its open shelving and
neatly organized utensils. Nicholas couldn't help but chuckle
sarcastically, thinking of how many hours he would have to slave at work
to afford Tom's overpriced fridge alone, never mind the whole house.

He finally found the bathroom just off the main hallway. It was as
luxurious as the rest of the house, with marble countertops, a deep
soaking tub, and a walk-in shower with multiple jets. He washed his
hands, splashing some water on his face in an attempt to cool down both
physically and mentally. He took a deep breath as he dried his hands on a
soft, monogrammed towel. Just as he was about to leave, he heard murmurs
coming from the kitchen. Curiosity piqued, so he quietly approached the
door, careful not to make any noise. The voices became clearer as he got
closer, and he could distinguish Tom's smooth and confident voice mixed
with Brandon's, which held a slight edge to it.

Peering around the corner, Nicholas' heart sank. There, in the kitchen,
he saw Tom's towering figure leaning casually against the counter, his
body language relaxed and open. Brandon stood close to him, too close for
Nicholas' comfort, looking up at Tom with an expression that was a mix of
admiration and something else Nicholas couldn't quite place. Tom was
speaking softly, his tone flirtatious.

"I can definitely give you some cool bench press sets. But by the looks
of it, you're doing just fine by yourself," Tom's voice stated, his eyes
scanning Brandon's upper body. Brandon's eyes squinted, and he smirked,
clearly flattered.

"Really?" the boy salaciously whispered, his tongue glazing his plump
lips. Tom reached out, placing a hand on Brandon's shoulder. The gesture
was casual, but to Nicholas, it felt loaded with intention.

"Fuck, yeah," Tom groaned, his hand sliding down Brandon's chest, tugging
at the boy's t-shirt. They both chuckled.

Hidden behind the door, Nicholas' blood boiled. The scene felt
inappropriate, and how Tom looked at Brandon made him deeply
uncomfortable. He wanted to burst in, pull Brandon away, and confront
Tom, but he forced himself to stay hidden and watch a little longer.
Brandon's voice was quiet but not shy.

"I wish my dad took notice," the boy conveyed, causing Tom's expression
to soften slightly.

"Your dad's a good guy, Brandon. He cares about you, even if he doesn't
always show it...the way you want," Tom advised.

Nicholas felt a pang of blame mixed with anger. He knew he had to
intervene, but he also needed to do it in a way that wouldn't escalate
the situation further. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the kitchen,
his footsteps deliberately loud to announce his presence.

"Hey, there you are," Nicholas said, forcing a casual tone as he
approached. "I was looking for the bathroom and got lost." he lied. Tom
straightened up, his hand dropping from Brandon's chest.

"No problem, man. It's a big place," Tom stated, his demeanor eerily at
ease, considering. "Is everything alright?" he questioned. Nicholas
nodded slowly. "Yeah, everything's fine. Your mom was looking for you,"
he added, glancing at his son. Brandon's eyes flicked between his father
and Tom, a hint of annoyance crossing his face.

"Sure, whatever," he mumbled, his demeanor shifting immediately. He
turned and left the kitchen, leaving Nicholas and Tom alone. Tom raised
an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Something on your mind, man?" Tom asked, smirking. Nicholas clenched his
jaw, struggling to keep his composure.

"Just making sure everything's okay. Brandon's still young, and I'm not
sure he understands...boundaries," he stated. Tom's smile widened, but
there was an acerbity to it.

"Don't worry, Nicholas. I was just giving the boy some advice. No harm
done," Tom explained, smiling. Nicholas forced a smile in return, but his
mind was racing.

"Thanks, Tom. I appreciate it," Nicholas replied.

As he turned to leave, Nicholas couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that
had suddenly settled in his gut. And as the day wore on, the tension
between him and Brandon crackled like sparks from a fire. All the while,
the boy's calm demeanor never wavered, like a poker player hiding his
true hand. His son's actions felt like sharp stings, each remark a
calculated jab designed to hurt him. Brandon's attempts to bond with Tom
seemed deliberate, almost malicious as if he were purposely trying to
undermine Nicholas and show him up in front of everyone. He wondered if
this was Brandon's way of punishing him, of expressing the resentment
that had been building over the years.

"Hey, did you know Tom used to play college football?" Brandon called
out, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Offensive guard, I bet,"
the boy added, sticking his tongue out friskily. Tom laughed, ruffling
Brandon's hair.

"Jesus Christ, that was a long time ago, kid. I'm sure your dad's got
plenty of his own stories," Tom replied, trying to divert Brandon's
attention away from him. The boy's eyes turned to Nicholas, a cold,
calculated glint in them.

"I'm sure he does," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But I'd
rather hear yours," Brandon whispered, eyes falling back to Tom and his
voice loud enough for his father to hear. Nicholas clenched his jaw,
forcing a smile as he stepped away from the grill. But as he did, he
inadvertently overheard Tom and Brandon conversing.

"So, what do you play?" Tom said, his voice purposely trying to slide
under the general noise. Brandon's gaze, now locked on him, didn't waver.

"Wide receiver," Brandon replied, his words almost moaned. Tom's wrist
froze, and the burger he was flipping was now hovering over the grill. He
turned his head back, his eyes latched on the boy's smirk.

"Good to know..." he whispered.

The words stung more than Nicholas cared to admit. He turned away, trying
to hide the anger bubbling up inside him. But Brandon wasn't done.
Throughout the day, he made little jabs, subtle enough to go unnoticed by
the others but sharp enough to cut Nicholas to the core. The sun began to
set over Tom and Jodie's expansive backyard, and though the barbecue was
still going, the atmosphere had grown tense.

Tom and Jodie's teenage sons, Seth and Marty, played on the grass nearby,
occasionally glancing at the adults with mild interest. Seth, the older
of the two at sixteen, was trying to teach his younger brother Marty, who
was twelve, some new football tricks. They laughed and roughhoused,
enjoying the evening despite the brewing storm between Nicholas and
Brandon playing in the back. Nearby, Jett was playing with a beach ball,
bouncing it around the pool's edge. He was lost in his world, blissfully
unaware of the escalating conflict.

"I think you should tone it down, Brandon," Nicholas' voice boomed,
frustration and exhaustion evident in every word. Brandon's face,
however, was a mask of defiance.

"Chill, dude. You're gonna give yourself a nosebleed," Brandon provoked.
Nicholas' body was now a puddle of bottled nerves, pacing around the
deck, trying to cage his desire to lunge at Brandon's neck. The argument
grew louder, the tension tangible.

Suddenly, Jett, distracted by the rising voices, misjudged his step and
slipped on the pool's edge. With a muted splash, he fell into it, the
beach ball bouncing across the surface. Jett's head bobbed above the
water momentarily, his eyes wide with panic. He kicked frantically,
trying to stay afloat, but the water was deep, and he couldn't touch the
bottom. His tiny arms flailed, the ongoing argument muffling his cries
for help.

"Jesus Christ, dude!" Brandon yelled, his face flushed with anger. "Why
are you always so uptight?" he questioned.

"Because I'm trying to teach you to be a decent human being, you spoiled
little...!" Nicholas shot back, his voice shaking with the effort to keep
his temper in check. A volcanic eruption of anger shook the air between
Nicholas and Brandon as they faced off in a heated argument. Each word
from Brandon's lips was like a serrated knife, slicing through Nicholas'
skin and digging into raw wounds.

"You're such a hypocrite," Brandon snarled, his tone thick with hatred
and resentment. "You parade around like this perfect family man, but deep
down, you're just a..." he uttered before Nicholas' voice cut him off,
flaring.

"You shut the fuck up, Brandon!" Nicholas yelled.

The argument rose to a fever pitch, capturing everyone's attention.
Elizabeth and Jodie frantically tried to intervene, their voices
imploring for calm amidst the chaos. Meanwhile, Seth and Marty noticed
something was wrong. Their eyes widened as they saw Jett struggling in
the pool, his face barely breaking the surface before slipping under
again.

"Mom!" Seth screamed, the boy's voice cutting through the cacophony. They
all turned, their eyes following Seth's finger pointing towards the pool.

The world seemed to snap into focus for Nicholas. He spun around, his
heart stopping as he saw Jett's small form struggling in the water.
Without a second thought, he sprinted to the pool and dove in, his body
cutting the surface like an arrow. He grabbed Jett under the arms and
kicked upwards, his head breaking the surface. Jett was coughing and
sputtering, clinging to his father with all his might. Nicholas pulled
the boy out of the pool, cradling him close. Elizabeth rushed over, her
face pale with fear.

"Jett!" she stammered, yanking the boy from Nicholas' arms, wrapping him
in a towel as he continued to cough and cry. Jodie, Tom, and Brandon
gathered around, their faces a mix of concern and shock. The tension from
the argument had suddenly dissipated, replaced by a collective worry for
the little boy who had come so close to disaster. Elizabeth's fear
quickly turned to anger as she turned on Nicholas. "How could you let
this happen? You were supposed to be watching him!" she condemned.
Nicholas felt a surge of remorse crash over him.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't see..." Nicholas stuttered.

"Of course you didn't. How could you?" she shouted, her voice trembling
with emotion. "You were too busy arguing with Brandon!" she pressed.
Brandon stood off to the side, his expression of shock and guilt as he
stared at his little brother coughing inside his mother's arms.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. Elizabeth looked at him, her anger
softening slightly but her resolve unwavering.

"We're leaving," she uttered, standing up and carrying Jett to the car.
Brandon opened his mouth to protest but then closed it, understanding the
gravity of the situation. He nodded reluctantly and followed Beth to the
vehicle.

As Elizabeth gathered their things, followed by Jodie, Nicholas felt a
hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Tom standing behind him, his face
grave.

"I'm so sorry, man," Tom apologized. Nicholas shook his head, feeling the
day's weight pressing down on him.

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who should apologize. We ruined your
barbecue," Nicholas expressed. Tom threw him a smile.

"Shit happens. Family life, right?" he joked. Nicholas nodded,
appreciating Tom's attempt at cheering him up but feeling too overwhelmed
to respond appropriately. But as he followed Elizabeth, Brandon, and Jett
towards the car, Tom stopped Nicholas again. "Hey man, if you want...you
can stop by anytime. We can have a drink and talk. No pressure," he
offered. Nicholas glanced at his family, then back at Tom. Part of him
wanted to escape for a little while, to drown his sorrows in alcohol and
forget about the day's events.

"I'll think about it," he said, giving Tom a weary smile before walking
to the car. His mind swirled with guilt, confusion, and fatigue. As he
climbed into the driver's seat, he looked back at the beach house,
feeling that he was leaving more than just a barbecue behind.

The drive back to the house was silent, the air layered with tacit words.
Elizabeth held Jett close, soothing him as he drifted off to sleep while
Brandon stared out the window, his expression unreadable. Nicholas
gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He could feel things
shifting, changing. An inevitability that felt heavier by the second.

When they got home, Beth locked herself inside Jett's room, turning the
shower on and blocking any noise coming from outside. Nicholas seized the
opportunity to finally settle things with Brandon. He scoured the house
and found the boy alone near the edge of the deck, staring out at the
ocean.

"We need to talk," Nicholas said, his voice low and tense. Brandon didn't
look at him.

"About what?" the boy countered.

"About this," Nicholas gestured between them. "Whatever is happening
between us needs to stop. Now," Nicholas stated. Brandon finally turned
his countenance hard.

"Nothing's happening. Nothing ever happens," Brandon pressed, his eyes
now locked on his father. Nicholas felt a surge of anger.

"I'm your father, Brandon. You don't get to treat me like shit just
because you're angry," Nicholas argued. Brandon's eyes flashed.

"Don't talk to me like you have any idea what I'm feeling," the boy said.

"I would if you talked to me... I'm here, aren't I? I'm trying to be here
for you," Nicholas countered, his voice shaky as he tried to keep his
cool. But Brandon's voice rose, his father's words tapping into his
bottled rage.

"Trying? Is that what you call this? Dragging your family on this fucking
vacation, pretending everything is fine..." Brandon spewed, his words
sharp and cunning. "Dude, you're a joke. A pathetic joke!" the boy
hollered, his hatred-fueled words spreading across the deck like
wildfire, eyes trembling.

Suddenly, Nicholas took a step forward, his hands clenched into fists.

"Watch your fucking mouth, boy," Nicholas warned.

"What are you going to do about it?" Brandon taunted with his face inches
from Nicholas'. He could feel his son's breath on him, their resemblance
suddenly creating a mirrored effect that seemed to pull Nicholas out of
his haze. "You gonna hit me? Prove what a great father you are?" the boy
provoked. The tension between them crackled, finally drawing Elizabeth
out of Jett's room, concern etched on her face.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth demanded, looking between her husband and
her son.

"Ask him," Brandon spat, pointing at Nicholas. "Ask him why he can't
stand being around his family anymore," he continued, a sliver of his
pain breaking through. "Careful," he whispered, closing in on Nicholas
just enough to prevent Beth from hearing him. "One of these days, I might
have to go out and get myself a new daddy..." the boy whispered with
malice. Nicholas felt Beth's eyes on him, the effect of Brandon's words
drilling a hole into his battered spirit.

"What happened, Bran...?" Nicholas' voice spoke, frail, defeated.
"Where's that sweet boy I raised? Who'd run into my arms every day when I
got home? Where is he?" Nicholas questioned, his words faltering.

For a brief second, Nicholas could've sworn Brandon's eyes softened, the
boy's throat tightening as he held his emotions at bay. But that soon
dismantled, his countenance reverting to his usually cold demeanor.

"I have no idea who you're talking about," Brandon whispered.

"Brandon, enough," Elizabeth said firmly. "Go to your room," she ordered.

Brandon's eyes skimmed his father up and down before he finally turned
around and walked inside.

The moment the patio sliding doors drew shut, Nicholas and Beth's shouts
blasted. The tension, thick as molasses, had been building since the
barbecue. Jett's near-drowning incident had only added fuel to the fire,
igniting unresolved issues between them. Like a dormant volcano, their
emotions finally erupted into a heated confrontation. Their voices
clashed like cymbals, filling the air with a palpable sense of anger and
frustration. Beth's voice trembled with rage and desperation as she
confronted Nicholas.

"How can you just let it spiral out of control like this?" she demanded,
her eyes blazing with tears. "Brandon's our son! You're supposed to be
the responsible one, setting an example for him, not bickering like a
couple of immature teenagers!" she scolded, her words striking Nicholas
like cutlasses, slicing deep into his guilt-stricken heart. A wave of
fiery anger surged through Nicholas, threatening to consume him.

"You think I don't fucking know that, Beth?" Nicholas argued. "But I'm
not bulletproof, for fuck sake! He kept riding my ass the entire
afternoon. Embarrassing me in front of Tom," he reasoned. Beth's eyes
narrowed.

"And why do you think that is? Do you even realize how distant you've
been? What is going on with you?" Beth drilled. Nicholas hesitated, the
truth bubbling up inside him.

"My oldest son hates me, and my wife won't fuck me, so...you figure it
out," Nicholas blurted, his words drowning out in immediate regret.
Beth's eyes stumble, shivering in disbelief.

"My God, Nick..." she muttered. "Are you that unhappy?" she questioned,
her voice eerily soft, as if a truth both were aware of had finally been
exposed.

But Nicholas remained silent. He couldn't bring himself to answer. He
knew that if he did, it would change everything. And what Nicholas feared
more than the truth was change. So, instead, he turned away, running a
hand through his hair.

"I need to clear my head," he uttered, rushing out the door.

Beth stood frozen as Nicholas' footsteps pounded against the floor, each
echoing like a war drum. He stormed out of the house, his face twisted
with anger, and slammed the door behind him with such force that the
windows rattled. In a frenzy, he sprinted to his car and peeled out of
the driveway, leaving behind a trail of burning rubber and smoke. The
streets of Seagull's Bay were a blur as he drove aimlessly, his hands
viciously gripping the steering wheel, his mind engulfed by hurt and
confusion.

Ten minutes later, he was parked outside Tom's house, his fingers
messaging Tom. A beat later, his shadow appeared from behind the gate.

"I could use a drink," Nicholas said, shrugging.

With a knowing grin, Tom led Nicholas inside, through the garden, past
the pool, and down to a secluded annex hidden behind the house. As they
entered, Nicholas was hit with the unmistakable scent of oak and leather
mixed with the faint aroma of cigars. The space was a man cave dream come
true. A polished pool table stood proudly in the center, surrounded by
plush leather armchairs and a fully stocked bar against one wall. Above
it all, a massive flat-screen TV dominated the room, ready to showcase an
epic game or movie night. But what truly caught Nicholas' attention were
the walls adorned with framed sports memorabilia. He could already
envision Tom's wild nights spent here enjoying the privacy only a place
like this could provide, smoking weed, watching porn, and beating off.

Tom carefully poured a generous amount of whiskey into two crystal
glasses, each emitting a musical chime as their edges met. He handed one
to Nicholas, the amber liquid sloshing gently within its confines. As
they clinked drinks, the sound of tinkling glass filled the room. They
settled onto the plush couch, sinking into its soft cushions, and
Nicholas could feel the weight of the day begin to lift. The smooth burn
of alcohol flowed freely down their throats, the warmth spreading through
their bodies and melting away any lingering tension. It wasn't long
before Nicholas got drunk. Really drunk.

"Here," Tom called, extending his hand holding a lit joint.

Nicholas picked it up and drove the joint to his mouth, inhaling deeply
before pushing a cloud of smoke into the air. He could immediately feel
his body sink into the couch.

"Fuck, that feels good," Nicholas mumbled, his speech lagging slightly.

He felt so relaxed he failed to notice his cock was getting hard, his
bulge now stretching the fabric of his pants. After a few puffs, he
unfurled his eyes, glancing at Tom, who sat beside him. He was rubbing
his own bulge, his blue eyes locked on Nicholas' cock. Tom's energy had
changed. It hummed with an almost predatory edge, sending shivers up his
spine. His hand slid across the couch and landed on Nicholas' knee.

"You want help with that?" Tom asked, his voice eerily husky. His words
carried a suggestive tone laced with lust and desire. His touch lingered
just a moment too long, igniting a fire within Nicholas that he couldn't
deny. Nicholas looked down at his 9-inch shaft, chuckling, his body
recoiling with embarrassment.

"Shit, man. I'm so sorry," he apologized, sliding his hand inside his
pants, trying to tuck his dick back inside his undies, the tip already
peeking out of them.

He tried to pull up, but suddenly, out of nowhere, Tom's massive figure
fell sideways on the couch, his hand pushing Nicholas' back into it.

"Shhh...relax, man," he groaned, pulling Nicholas' hand out of his pants
and immediately sliding his own inside, grabbing his guest's cock. He
began to stroke it very slowly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Nicholas mumbled, confusion and apathy
mixed together.

"Helping out a friend," Tom whispered, leaning his head into Nicholas'
neck. He stopped inches from it, lips barely touching his skin. "You
really have no idea how fucking sexy you are. Do you, Nicholas?" he
questioned, his tongue teasing the tip of Nicholas' earlobe.

"Dude, this is wrong," Nicholas moaned, his body shivering with pleasure
as he felt Tom's warm hand pulling on his foreskin.

"Then why is your dick throbbing right now, man?" Tom teased, increasing
the rhythm of his strokes. Nicholas' head snapped back, his hair bouncing
with it. His breath got heavy, and he could feel Tom's mouth moving
closer to his, his friend's nose basking on his breath.

"Tom...stop," Nicholas begged, even though every ounce of his body
disagreed.

"Stop what?" Tom mocked, his thumb rubbing on the tip of Nicholas' cock,
leaking with precum. He pulled his hand out and took his finger to his
mouth.

"Dude, wait," Nicholas uttered, grabbing Tom's wrist.

But Tom's determination was relentless. He yanked his hand away from
Nicholas and wrapped his mouth around his cum soaked finger, closing his
eyes in delight as he groaned. Then, he slid down, knees hitting the
ground, and he started unzipping Nicholas' pants, yanking them down and
unleashing his cock, which bounced up like a slingshot, hitting his
stomach with a loud slap. A string of precum whipped with it, splattering
over his abdomen. Tom locked his hands under Nicholas' knees and pulled
his legs up.

Suddenly, Nicholas felt a knot of unease in his stomach. He wasn't sure
if it was the alcohol or something more profound, but he knew at that
moment he needed to leave.

"I have to go," he said abruptly, trying to push his legs down. But he
suddenly felt Tom's strength resisting his attempt, deliberately keeping
him down.

"No, you don't," he forced, head diving between Nicholas' legs. Seconds
later, he felt Tom's tongue graze his hole. Nicholas' eyes gaped, and he
kicked his legs forward, knocking Tom back.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he hollered, a powering surge in his voice.
Tom looked surprised but didn't protest.

"Okay, man. It's cool," he eased, slowly lifting himself off the ground,
his hands up in the air as Nicholas's arms struggled, trying to get his
pants back up. "It's late...you can crash here if you want," Tom
suggested, a disturbingly casual tone to his proposal.

"No, I need to leave," Nicholas replied, his voice firmer than he felt.
"This shouldn't have happened," Nicholas uttered, eyes darting for his
phone.

"Jesus Christ," Tom uttered, his tone suddenly shifting. "No wonder the
kid hates you," he mumbled, walking over to the bar and filling half a
glass of whisky.

"What did you just say?" Nicholas questioned, his eyes squinting at Tom's
remark.

"I mean, look at you? You're a fucking mess, Nicholas," he said with a
surprisingly gentle tone. Noticing Nicholas's astonished look, he
chuckled. "Just fucking let go, man," he counseled. Nicholas picked his
phone off the table and rushed for the door, but not before turning
around.

"Thanks for the drinks, Tom," he stated before slamming the door behind
him.

He made his way out of the annex, his steps unsteady but determined. The
cool night air hit him, clearing his head slightly. The day's events
swirled in his mind as he drove home, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions
and unresolved desires. Tom had been friendly, perhaps too friendly, and
Nicholas had felt a current of something more beneath the surface.
Something he wasn't ready to face.

Nicholas's thoughts spiraled out of control as he got into his car and
started driving. The night's quiet and the engine's hum did nothing to
soothe his troubled mind. He thought about Beth and their marriage and
how the weight of responsibilities and unmet expectations had eroded the
bond they once shared. He pictured her face the way it had twisted with
anger and fear after Jett's near-drowning. He had let her down, and the
guilt gnawed at him.

Then there was Brandon. Distant, resentful. The boy's defiance and
disdain were like knives to Nicholas's heart, and the argument at the
barbecue had only made things worse. He wondered if there was any way to
repair their fractured relationship or if it was too late.

And then, as his mind wandered, thoughts of Marcus surfaced. The kiss
they shared haunted him, a tantalizing memory that left him yearning for
more. And the way Ledger and Dawson fucked him. The rawness, the hunger,
the pleasure. He knew it was wrong, but his desire was overpowering,
intoxicating.

And then, speeding through Seagull's Bay's dark roads, Nicholas finally
realized. His whole life was unraveling. His deep, unmet, hidden desires
had finally caught up with him, poisoning everything around him.

Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, Nicholas failed to notice the narrow
road snaking perilously close to the edge of a steep cliff. Suddenly, the
headlights revealed the sheer drop just in the nick of time. With a
violent swerve, the car skidded to a sudden halt only a few feet from the
edge. Every beat of his heart reverberated in his chest as the reality of
how narrowly he had escaped disaster began to sink in. He sat there
motionless, his breaths heavy and labored, gazing at the swirling
darkness below. The urge to bring it all to an abrupt end welled up
inside him. It seemed so simple to release his grip and surrender, to
break free from the torment and uncertainty that consumed him.

As he slumped over the steering wheel, tears cascaded down his cheeks
while he pondered the notion of steering the vehicle off the edge. The
world seemed to be collapsing around him, the weight of it all becoming
unendurable.

But then, an image of Jett flashed in his mind. His sweet, innocent boy.
The light in Nicholas's life. His hope in the darkest hours. Jett needed
him. No matter how flawed he was or how many mistakes he made, the boy
loved him. The thought of leaving Jett without a dad, of causing him that
kind of pain, brought Nicholas back from the brink. Sobbing, he gripped
the steering wheel, the skin on his knuckles stretching thin. He couldn't
do it. He just couldn't.

Wiping his tears, Nicholas started the car again, his resolve hardening.
Even though he couldn't end his life, he also couldn't continue living
the way he had been. He needed to confront his feelings, to face the
truth about himself.

So, he drove. The roads blurred together for several minutes until he
found himself outside Marcus' house. The lights were off, but Nicholas
didn't care. He needed to see Marcus. Talk to him.

Fear and determination settled as he sat in the car, staring at the
darkened windows. With a deep breath, he stepped out and walked towards
the house. The small, unassuming beach cabin seemed to hunker among the
landscape, almost blending with it. Then suddenly, the kitchen light came
on, and a figure appeared at the door. Marcus stood there, leaning
against the doorframe, his presence soothing even from a distance. The
boy was stunning, Nicholas thought. His resolve suddenly faltered, but it
was too late now. He had been noticed.

Marcus didn't say anything. He just stood there, his gaze gentle yet
laced with regard. Nicholas' strength caught up to him, and he stepped
forward.

"About ten minutes ago, I was ready to end my fucking life..." Nicholas
expressed, fumbling with his words. He felt vulnerable, yet a sense of
exhilaration came with it. Maybe because he had never experienced it
before. "I didn't, obviously," he joked. "Before I knew it...I was
driving here," he continued, chuckling at himself and the surreal
situation he had ended up in. But then he paused, his eyes meeting
Marcus', whose silence felt all-consuming. "But as soon as I saw your
house, I...started feeling better," he conveyed, stopping at the base of
the porch steps. He lingered there, his body still slightly tipsy,
waiting for Marcus to say something.

"Iodine," the boy uttered. Nicholas frowned.

"What?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"The wind carries it 'cause we're close to the beach. They say it boosts
your immune system," Marcus continued, his lips struggling to keep his
smile from showing.

"Right," Nicholas replied, his spirit suddenly brightening. He had never
noticed how colorful Marcus' dark eyes were. "I don't think that's..." he
stammered.

"I know what you meant, Nicholas," Marcus interrupted. He tilted his head
to the side, his eyes scanning Nicholas'. He felt his soul being stripped
right there. "What do you want?" the boy asked.

The silence hung between them, heavy and pregnant with meaning. Nicholas'
resolve wavered as Marcus's words brushed against the evening breeze like
a gentle caress. Despite his determination to resist and hold onto the
remnants of his old life, the magnetic pull towards Marcus was too
strong. It tugged at him relentlessly, like a rip current pulling him out
to sea. Nicholas could feel himself getting swept away.

"I want..." Nicholas stuttered, his fear sneaking up on him unannounced.
But this time, he resisted. "I want to come inside..." he stammered.
"...your house," he added with an endearing urgency. Marcus' lips
stretched, sensing Nicholas's internal struggle. They smiled at each
other.

"Come on," Marcus invited, tilting his head most adorably, signaling
Nicholas to follow him.

And just like that, Nicholas did, a nervous smile on his lips as he
closed the door slowly behind him, escorting a gentle click that echoed
across the deserted beach.

Outside the house, everything felt quiet, subdued, painfully ordinary.

But inside, Nicholas' entire world was about to change.

(To be continued...)