Justin had assembled his ideal Tuesday night- his blankets cool under his bare back, his pillow soft under his head, and his boyfriend's mouth warm around his cock. Eric's lips puffing out with the practiced strokes. The wet, sliding mouth deliberately bobbed from Justin's base to his tip.
But Justin wasn't looking at the lips, his eyes were clenched shut. He nestled against his sheets, and switched from a fantasy of sex on the beach, to hooking up at a bar. He imagined leaving campus and heading downtown meeting a cute bartender at one of the high-end lounge. He'd stand out from the other undergraduates with his wit and charms, and then convincing the bartender to leave his shift and meet him in the bathroom.
"A little slower," Justin mumbled. Eric responded; his lips taking their time across Justin's every inch, circling at the head. Yes, just like that. He'd be pressed against the back of the bathroom stall, with the bearded bartender - no, stubbledโrunning hands down his length. He would moan, and the bartender would increase the pace, gripping him desperately.
"Ok, faster," Justin panted. He heard a grunt from across the bed, but ignored it. The strokes on his dick increased, but not fast enough. He could feel the blood swelling his balls, the pressure of his build up becoming uncomfortable. "Faster. Come on." He buried his face sideways into the pillow.
Then there was nothing on him. Just cold air, and goosebumps pebbling on his bare thighs. Justin grumbled a complaint. When moments passed with no resumption of the attention, his eyes squinted open. "Hey, what's up?"
Eric was sitting further back on the bed. His palms were rubbing clean the saliva from his lips, in that little prim motion that Justin found pretty pretentions. "Nothing. I was getting tired." His lips curled. "And you still asked me to keep on going?"
Justin felt the acid in his stomach that started when they fought. He rolled upright- his groin pressure felt uncomfortable. "Uh. Sorry. Not sure how I was supposed to notice that."
A flash of fabric- Eric was putting his pants back on. "I don't know who needs to you that you need to notice what you're partner is feeling?"
"I could notice things a lot more if you said things clearly, instead of making me figure out your meaning like it's a fucking English assignment.
Eric's lips curled into a frown that looked like a smile. When Justin had first met him, he'd been coming home from the gym and had heard Eric at a spoken word showcase at the campus center. Then, that frown-smile had seemed intriguing, and intoxicating. Now, it just seemed over-complicated.
His stomach gurgled. He didn't want a fight right now. "Look. I'm sorry I didn't notice. Come lye down with me. You can rely on me I won't do it again."
Eric didn't join him on the bed. It wasn't until he spoke that Justin realized the extent of the distance. "Ok. Let me be super short, if that's
clear
for you."
"I don't like the way you treat me. And I can't rely on you for shit.
Five Months Later
At first glance, camp Long Lake seemed the image of the classic American summer camp. A sprawling complex of wooden and brick buildings ducked and emerged from between pines, before coming up to crowd the glittering expanse of a lake stretching far beyond. Bunk houses were bordered by volleyball courts with grass poking through the sand, and the picnic tables by the gravel paths seemed older than the trees they rested under.
But as Justin walked past the bunkhouses, it was clearly evident what made this camp so different. Rather than bunk names like "Eagle Bunk," or "Willow Bunk", he passed "Cardamon", "Umami", and "Charnuska". Rather than passing campers on their way to a kayak trip or coming back from basketball, he passed several of the tweens emerging from the hydroponics center, dirt covering their hands. His noise crinkled appreciatively as he passed the barbeque pits. When he reached the main kitchens, the sprawling, multi-chimneyed building far outstripped any other structure at the camp.
He slipped through the counselor door and into the prep kitchens, planning to get some work done before orientation. This summer was a new start, he reminded himself. This was his second summer working at the camp as a prep chef, and he appreciated being on the other side of the fantastic cooking lessons he'd enjoyed as a kid. He was far away from campus, and all its bad memories.
By the time the staff gathered in a circle for orientation, he'd prepared a tray of carrots for the campers to use, and had expertly gathered new gossip from one of the new prep chefs, who had introduced herself as Aurelia. She wasn't the only new hire, apparently. Over the winter, their old head chef had moved to Albania. The new guy was supposed to be real good. Aurelia, in between wiping her eyes above the onions, mentioned she had heard he'd traveled to cook in each continent.
When their kitchen manager Mitch had the staff go around for introductions, Justin made sure to pay attention.
Mitch's voice was aggressively cheerful. "And today we have a special treat- a new face. Say hi all Edgar Santos, our new Chef leading the prep work for lessons."
The new head chef's cool smile seemed to balance his bright violet jeans and dark earrings. He nodded to the staff, before speaking in a lightly accented, husky tone.
"It is a high pleasure to be here with you all. Camp Long Lake's reputation goes before it, and I am certain I will be learning from each of you."
Mitch clapped his hands. Justin noticed a line of sweat trickling down the older' man's temple. "Excellent. We're glad to welcome you, Eddy. Here at Long Lake we like to think of our team as a family, where we support each other.
"We'll finish the introductions later on- you all will have a lot of time to get to know each other over the next hour"
Confused murmurs from around him.
"2
nd
year's first lesson on knife work is today. We'll need to get everything ready by then."
The older staff exchanged stressed glances. Justin grit his teeth. Not this shit again.
Aurelia swore. "
Mierda
. Doesn't that take two hours to set up?"
Mitch's smile disappeared "We're going to work together on this. Working together, it will get done."
The prep work did not get done. When the 2
nd
year class and the knife instructor finished trickling into the learning tables, only 3/4 of the necessary vegetables and meat were prepped. Justin did his best to spread out the carrots amongst the tables.
The kids were blissfully unaware, just laughing as they decided who smelled the most like manure from gardening lessons prior. But at the front, the knife instructor and class teacher's voices were heated.
"This lesson is highly important. They need appropriate practice in order to finish the rest of the week's lesson safely."