The Port of Montevideo

When I woke up, Ignacio, or I guess I need to keep thinking of him as Juan Pablo, was nestled against my chest, sound asleep in my arms. What an angelic face the little guy had -- piercing grey eyes, naturally long lashes, pouty lips, and damn did he know how to use those lips. No need to mention the ass peeking out from under the sheets. He was insanely tight, but took me without complaint. He was hungry for my dick, that's for sure.

I'm glad he got some sleep. I should have just let him go to bed, but I think we both needed last night. A lot of tension was released.

I decided to let him sleep in a bit and slipped out of bed. I made coffee and toast and set it out on the balcony.

Ignacio was a sensitive guy. Still somehow unaware of the trouble he was in, despite how prepared he seemed to think he was. I don't think he realizes how much can still go wrong, and it's a mistake for him to think he'll be safe until he makes it off the continent. At least for now, though, he needs that feeling of safety, so I'll just do what I can to make sure he stays safe for as long as I can guarantee that.

The phone rang and it was my younger sister.

"Hey, how is yours doing?"

"He's rattled, but doing ok, all things considered. How's the sister?"

"We have a problem. She told us that the Argentinian border police seemed really suspicious of her papers. The consulate forgot to add an entry stamp, so there was no record of her having entered the country. She said that things were off on the Uruguayan side, too, but they didn't say anything."

"Oh fuck, do you think they've identified her?"

"We can't be sure, but I think we need to expedite her removal. Someone is going to come and get her tonight and take her to a farm near the border. We still need someone who can get her over the border tomorrow night, but I have someone in mind. Tickets have been arranged under her French identity on a flight from São Paulo to Paris in two days."

"If the sister is compromised, do you think mine is too?" Mine, uff. Calling him mine got me a little hard. Calm down.

"We don't know. How long can you keep him?"

"As long as we need. He's a great roommate."

"Ok, well, let us know if you think we need to move him. Since you'll need to hold him longer than expected, a courier from the Swedes is going to drop off some cash for you. Usual drop off in the park near your flat."

"Julieta," I interrupted her manic explaining.

"What?" she was impatient.

"You're doing the thing you do when you're overwhelmed. It'll be ok. What can I do to make things easier for you?"

"Find me a smuggler last minute? Someone who already knows the guard shift changes at the crossing near Rio Blanco. Someone who has a boat and knows the river well enough to ferry her over in the dark. Know anybody, Franquito?"

"I do not. Can't we just bribe her over? Are there no contacts in the border police?"

"Have we ever had contacts in the police? Let alone the border police. Let alone the Brazilian border police."

"Why aren't the Soviets helping us?"

"They've been trying to improve relations with Argentina and don't want to get caught dirtying their hands with something so trivial. I'll figure it out. I have to go."

"Ok, take care of yourself, sis. Let me know if I can help in any way. And stop by sometime and meet my charge. He's a sweet fellow."

"Sure thing. The sister is lovely, too. I feel so bad for her, really. It makes me wonder how long we have until we're in their position."

"We'll face that when we do."

"Love you, brother."

"Love you too, sis."

The phone call had awaken the sleeping prince and he padded into the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, dormilón. Sleep well?" I rumpled his hair and kissed his forehead. He leaned into me for a hug and I held him there in my arms.

"Yeah, did you?"

"Like the dead. Look, uh, we need to talk." He pulled away from me.

"Oh, I, yeah, I just..." he looked downtrodden.

"Not about last night. I mean, we can talk about last night, but I really liked last night, and I hope there are more last nights." The smile returned to his face. "No, we need to talk about something much more serious. I made coffee, let's go sit on the balcony."

I caught him up on everything my sister had relayed to me. It was clearly hard enough being separated from his sister and in the same country, but now the thought of her in the trunk of a car, driven for hours into the countryside to then await an uncertain crossing yet to be arranged was just a bit too much for him.

"Why are my papers clean and hers aren't? We got them the same day from the same guy. He said he found two kids born around the same time as us. They drowned or something, or got typhus. He even said he destroyed the death records. Estela is a real person!"

"I don't know the answer to any of that right now. But what is clear is that she needs to get out now, and you need to stay put."

"But what if something happens? What if I never see her again?" He was starting to tear up, but was fighting them back. "What if she..." his voice caught and he didn't finish the last worst case he'd come up with before breaking down.

"Come here. Shh shh." I took him in my arms, his little body jerking with each sob. He was really in over his head, the poor guy. "We'll face each thing as it comes, ok? I can't promise that it will all be ok, but I'll do my best to make sure you're ok. Understood?"

I handed him a dishtowel and he blew his nose before hiding his face under my arm again.

"I'm so scared, Franco. I've seen them disappear. I know what they do to them. I've seen them on the street, the ones who didn't know anything useful, their faces are hollow. They're dead inside. Can't I just stay here? Can't we get her a new identity?"

"You know I wish we could, but what happened there is happening here. A new identity can't fix that. They would find you eventually."

"I don't know if I can do this, Franco."

"Yes you can. You will be reunited before you realize." Maybe I should take a week off university and stay home with him. Just to make sure he doesn't do anything rash. I'll phone later and fake a flu.

"Come on, eat something. Let's get your mind off this." I rubbed his back while he nibbled on the toast, his eyes puffy from crying. Damn, his skin is smooth. "I have to go pick up the money the Swedes left for us, then I'll go get some stuff from the shop. Anything you'd like to have around? When things calm down I'll take you out and show you the city, ok? We'll go to the Rambla and the quarry. I'll buy you an ice cream in the park." Why was I talking to him like a disappointed child? I suppose in some ways there was something kind of childlike about him. An innocence incongruous with all he'd been through so far.

"I would like that," he sniffled. "Can you get some basil and balsamic? I want to make a caprese with the mozzarella and tomatoes from yesterday."

"I'll get you all the herbs in the world." I kissed his forehead again.

Man, I was falling hard for the poor guy. As I walked down the street, all I could think about was last night. The velvety softness of being inside his mouth, the way his tongue seemed to be everywhere along my cock at once. The way his perky little ass looked as he presented it to me on his hands and knees, the moonlight silver on his pale, hairless flesh. The way he begged me to fuck him harder and harder until I was sure I'd break him in half. The feeling of unloading deep inside him, the way he cooed happily when I filled him up. He was insatiable.

I made it to the park, trying to think about something else. Didn't want a public obscenity charge. I looked around and the park was empty. I reached under the trash can lid and felt the brown paper bundle taped to the inside. I quickly detached it and slipped the package into my bag, carrying on my way without breaking pace.

I picked up the things he asked for at the store, as well as some toothpaste, a toothbrush, a razor and a few pairs of underwear for him. I picked out some white briefs, high in the hips. They might be more for me than for him. I was heading to check out when something caught my eye and the wheels of my imagination began to turn. Would he go for it? I guess it doesn't hurt to find out. I tossed the item into the basket with my other purchases, and made my way back home. I stopped in at another shop on the way home to get some wine and cigarettes. He could use some loosening up, I think.

When I got home he was in the kitchen, slicing tomatoes and mozzarella listening to some Brazilian funk song. He seemed chipper.

I showed him the treasures I'd acquired, keeping the one item hidden in my satchel. I don't think it was the right time yet.

"Who is this?" I asked, turning the radio down a bit.

"Tim Maia. Do you know him?"

"I didn't know we got Brazilian stations here."

"Apparently you do."

He was swaying his hips to the music, and I sidled up behind him, taking his hips in my hands, and swaying with him. A simple moment of bliss in all this madness.

After we ate, he said he was going to lie down for a bit, maybe take a nap. I had some work to do, so I sat down at my desk, but the afternoon sun post lunch was not helping me concentrate.

On his side, in my bed, he was sound asleep and completely nude. The sight of his little round ass and his narrow waist made me instantly hard. But I should let him rest.

I stripped off my clothes and climbed onto the bed behind him, spooning him. He stirred and pressed his ass against my cock. Fuck, he is hard to resist.

I nestled my chin against the back of his neck, eliciting a groan. I couldn't help myself and was unconsciously humping my dick between his ass cheeks. I played with his nipple, which caused him to push back against me.

Last night I had spent a lot of time loosening him up, but I was overcome with my need to be inside him. I spit on my hand and spread it on my cock. I spit again and spread it on his little asshole. Still spooning, I lined my cock up with him and began to push gently. There was a little resistance and then it popped in. I held it there and he let out a little whimper. He had a steel grip on my cock and his ass twitched, clenching down harder on me. Fuck, I don't think I was going to last long.

I slowly pushed myself further inside him. He let out a steady sigh as I went further and further in. I was all the way in and we both exhaled deeply. I pulled out slightly and gently pushed back in. Out again, then in. Out, in. Out, in. We were rocking our hips in unison as I got a steady rhythm, pushing my cock all the way into him, and pulling half way out.

He was moaning steadily at this point, and letting out little whimpers and goading me on.

"Si...si...dámelo. Si...follame." Yes, yes, give it to me. Fuck me.

He craned his head around to kiss me while I continued my slow fuck. God, his ass is heaven.

Last night I really gave it to him hard, but today I wanted to take him easy and slow. We kissed languidly, exploring each other's bodies while I rhythmically impaled him on my shaft.

I took his cock while I fucked him and started to stroke him. I wanted to give him pleasure like what he'd given me last night.

I stroked his cock in syncopation to the strokes in his ass.

He breathed in deeply suddenly and tensed up. "Fuck I'm gonna cum!" And not a second after he exploded in my hand, spewing ropes of thick white semen on himself and my hand. I didn't stop fucking him, but his spasming asshole clenching my cock pushed me over the edge.

"FUCK!" I shouted and unloaded inside him. I felt 7 or 8 pumps of hot cum fill him up.

We cuddled in the post-fuck afterglow and dozed off in each other's arms, my cock still buried inside him.

----

Over the following week, we fell into a sort of sweet, domestic pattern. Franco took a few days off from the university and stayed home with me. We figured out how to fuck on pretty much every surface of his apartment. The bed, beside the bed, on the balcony, standing in the shower, sitting in the shower, bent over the kitchen counter, on my back on the kitchen counter, and every imaginable position on the couch.

Typically when he'd get home from a day of teaching, he'd come find me in the kitchen or reading on the balcony, and we would ravish each other before debriefing on the day we'd spent apart.

I especially liked the suits he'd wear to work. Some days he'd come home, and I'd have him keep it on, but just take his cock out of the fly of his slacks and have him take me like that, fully dressed.

It was more than sex, though. He was the first connection I had made beyond my sister in as long as I could remember. He was a very gentle man, sweet and genuine in his caring. It was so soon since we'd first met, but the intensity of the situation certainly heightened my feelings.

One evening we were lying in bed reading together, having just finished a really nice, slow fuck. I was laying with my head on his chest and we read the same book together, telling each other 'next' once we'd reached the end of the page.

"Franco."

"Yes? Am I reading too slowly?"

"No, no. I just...I think that..."

"I love you, too, my darling." I could sense his grin behind me. I could only laugh. "It's not like I can't read you by now, ya know?"

"Well, I'm glad. I love you, too, too, then."

"Good, it's settled, then. Next page?"

"Next page."

He kissed my head and turned the page.

"I am wondering something, though. What was the thing you bought on the first day but didn't show me?"

"Oh," he let out a deep laugh. "I had completely forgotten. It's still in my satchel. Well, it's something I really bought for me for you."

"What?"

"Hold on, let me show you." He went into the living room to retrieve his satchel. He pulled out the plastic bag inside. "You see, I saw it in the shop, and my mind just immediately pictured you in it and I have to say it's an image I'm pretty into."

He handed me the plastic bag and I took out what was inside.

An apron.

"I don't get it."

"You know, I come home from work, and there you are. Maybe scrubbing the floor. Wearing this. On your hands and knees. And nothing else..." he grinned.

"Oh! I could do that."

"You would?"

"Sure, if it would make you happy."

"You make me happy." We kissed and went back to our reading.

The phone rang and Franco picked it up.

"Hey Julieta, what's up?"

I could hear her shouting through the receiver.

"A TRAP! THE PASSPORTS WERE A TRAP! THE GUY AT THE CONSULATE WAS AN AMERICAN PLANT! IT'S A FUCKING SET UP!"