Beyond the Sea (17 page)

After a minute or so, Brian took the cloth away, and Troy opened his eyes. Brian opened a round wooden container. “Shaving soap,” he explained. “You know, I didn’t even think of this when we’ve washed up. Coconut oil variety, because apparently we can’t get enough coconut here on…whatever this island is called.”

“
We should name it. Coconut Island? No, that sucks.”

With a snort, Brian poured a splash of rainwater into an empty half shell and stuck in his short shaving brush. “I bet there’s a Coconut Island already. Some awful theme resort. Not that I would mind being there now drinking piña coladas.” He circled the brush in the container of soap for almost a minute, then patted some fresh water onto Troy’s face. “Trying to use as little water as I can. I know we shouldn’t waste it on silly things like this.”

“
It’s not silly. I mean, I know it’s not, like,
essential
to life, but I am so excited to get this sweaty mess off my face. Island spa day.”

Brian smiled. “Do you often have spa days?”

“
Yeah, probably more often than most people. Have you ever had a hot stone massage? It’s heaven.”

“
I have not. I’ll have to look into that.” He frowned. “Hmm. Not sure the best way to do this. In the barber shop, you’d be in one of the chairs and it would be reclined. Maybe lie down?”

Troy stretched out on the blanket, brushing sand away. “This good?”

“
Hold on.” Brian disappeared into the teepee and returned with one of the flannel blankets. He folded it into a square. “Sit up for a sec?”

Once they were settled, Brian sat cross-legged and Troy stretched out, his head pillowed on the blanket in Brian’s lap. He rubbed his heels in the warming sand. Tipping his head back, he could see up Brian’s nose.

Brian patted more water on Troy’s face. “Ready?”

“
Yep.” Troy closed his eyes and folded his hands over his stomach. His hip bones protruded, and he scratched at his belly.

“
Tell me if anything’s uncomfortable, or if I nick you.”

“
Mmm-hmm.”

Brian’s chuckle was low and rumbly. “You’re not worried?”

Troy cracked one eye open. “Why would I be worried?”

“
Because of this?” He held up the razor, glinting dangerously in the sun.

Troy closed his eye. “I trust you.”

Brian didn’t say anything, and Troy was about to tell him not to be nervous when the warm facecloth pressed against his cheeks again. “A little more steam,” Brian murmured.

Troy could hear him lathering a little more, and when the facecloth was removed, the brush dabbed his cheek. The shaving soap felt thick as Brian spread it over his face, and every so often there was a little splash of water. Brian tapped Troy’s cheeks or chin when he wanted him to angle his head, and Troy followed his commands, sighing as he listened to the birds chirp and cicadas—or whatever they were—whine. They let the campfire peter out after breakfast since it was too hot to sit near it otherwise, but he could still smell sweet burning wood as the fire died.

When the blade scraped up his neck, he lifted his chin. Brian’s exhales tickled Troy’s nose as he shaved him with careful, even strokes. Troy dug his toes into the sand, resisting the urge to moan contentedly. Island spa day was a thing that needed to happen on the regular.

Brian’s hands were gentle, one of them on the top of Troy’s head, holding him still. They must have made quite a picture, and Troy smiled to himself.

“
What?” Brian asked, still scraping the blade evenly.

“
Just imagining the headlines if the paps were here to snap this photo.”

Brian’s low laughter puffed over Troy’s face. “Desert island gay shocker!”

“
Next Up bad boy in gay love nest!”

“
We’d sell a lot of papers.” Brian dabbed more soap and water onto Troy’s chin. “This cleft is tricky. Hold really still and stop talking.”

He did, content to lay there in peaceful silence as Brian navigated the planes of his face. When Brian was finished, he patted Troy’s cheek.

“
Smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

Blinking, Troy sat up, running a hand over his face. “Oh my God, that feels so much better. Thank you.” He picked up the wooden bowl of shaving soap. “This stuff is amazing. I wonder if we can make coconut oil? I mean, I know there’s other stuff in here, but if we had coconut oil we could fry our food with it.”

“
Good idea. It’ll be our new project.” Brian held up the signaling mirror. “Look good?”

Troy could only see snatches of his face in the little mirror, since the signaling circle in the middle was fairly big. “Amazing shave. I feel more like myself again.” He patted his head. “Man, the salt and sun and no product is drying out my hair big time. This is going to be a curly mess soon.”

“
I have a vial of hair oil. Another thing my Grandpa taught me. He swore by it.”

“
I don’t mind, actually. Is that weird? I’ve had to keep my hair short for years because Ty was the one with curls. The cherubic, innocent boy young girls could feel safe loving.”

“
Because pseudo bad boys don’t have curls.”

“
Nope. But fuck it. I’m letting my hair get shaggy. Well, unless it starts driving me nuts, in which case you’re shaving my head.”

Brian chuckled. “Duly noted.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Now to see if I can shave myself. That mirror’s too small to be any good.”

“
I can help if you tell me what to do.”

“
You sure?”

“
I think I can fit you into my schedule if we make it snappy.”

Laughing, Brian cleaned the razor with a few drops of fresh water. “How about I shave myself and you can tell me when I’ve missed a spot. Get you used to the process.”

Troy put on mock offense. “You mean you don’t want me at your throat with a straight razor when I have no idea what I’m doing?
Rude
.”

With a smile, Brian draped the washcloth on the stick again, the dregs of the fire still enough to set the water in the coconut shell steaming. “I’m funny that way. Okay, first lesson: don’t cut yourself or anyone else.”

Troy nodded seriously. “I’m so glad you’re here to tell me these things.”

Laughing, they passed the morning shaving, then fished for lunch. They stoked the signal fire and flashed the mirror, and it was a good day. Troy decided to be in the now and enjoy it.

“
I think I’ll try fishing on the other end of the island. See if we get anything different over there.” Brian picked up the basket he’d woven from breadfruit leaves, along with the stick they used as a fishing pole. His belly was still full with—what else—a coconut, breadfruit, papaya, and fish lunch. He could nap, but the lure of alone time beckoned sweetly.

“
Cool. Good idea.” Troy took a swig of water and hopped to his feet. He squinted down the beach, holding his hand over his eyes. “We should bring extra water.”

Brian’s heart sank. He tried to stay casual. “I was thinking I’d just go myself. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“
Oh.” Troy dropped his hand. “You don’t want me to come?”

“
It’s not that. I just…” He attempted a laugh. “Aren’t you sick of me? It’s been weeks.” Twenty days, to be exact, each one a line scratched into the surface of what he thought of as the time rock. Twenty days of not really being alone for more than the time it took to shit. The exception had been the night and day when Troy had retreated into his shell, but he’d been okay again since, much to Brian’s relief.

Their routine of fishing, gathering, wood sawing, and fire building now included shaving every few days to alleviate the boredom and keep their faces cool in the unrelenting heat. The shaving soap went remarkably far, but they’d run out eventually and have to find a substitute, which would be a good project.

And then there was basket weaving. Brian was literally
basket weaving
. He needed to change things up and get some space.

But there was no mistaking the hurt that flickered over Troy’s face. “No, I’m not sick of you. But clearly the feeling isn’t mutual.” He hitched his shoulder in a shrug and was suddenly very interested in cracking open a fresh coconut, even though he had to be full.

Shit
. “Look, don’t take it personally. You could be anyone. I just get a little stir crazy if I can’t be alone sometimes.”

Troy wouldn’t look at him. “No, I get it. Cool.” He smiled tightly. “Have fun!”

Guilt and irritation curdled into a sludge in Brian’s gut. “Well, you don’t have to be passive-aggressive about it.” He shoved a bottle of water into the pocket of his cargo shorts and slapped on his hat.

“
What?” Troy stared up from where he crouched. “I’m not. Look, I said have fun.”

“
Somehow I don’t think you meant it,” Brian snapped. “I told you not to take it personally.” Ugh, he was being a dick, but he couldn’t seem to stop biting out the words. This was what happened when he didn’t get the chance to be alone.

Troy went back to bashing the fruit. “Why would I take it personally that you don’t want to be in my presence?”

“
It’s not about you. I just want to be alone for a little while.”

“
And I said okay.” Troy was still focused on the coconut. “Whatever, dude. Go do your thing.”

With effort, Brian bit back his response about not needing permission and stalked off down the hot sand. The soles of his feet were rougher every day, and the uncomfortable burning sensation fueled his stride.

Was it such a sin to want a few hours to himself? He’d kill for a good book. He could spend all day reading and walking and not feel lonely at all. Since rescue certainly didn’t appear imminent, he had to start getting time to himself or he’d go nuts. God, he’d certainly be sick of himself, so he had no idea why Troy wasn’t.

As he marched along, he sighed. Probably because Troy was an extrovert who generally didn’t experience the bone-deep urge to be by himself and recharge the batteries—his temporary retreat the week before notwithstanding. Brian and Alicia had had a variation of this snappish fight a thousand times in their doomed marriage, no matter how much he tried to explain.

Brian’s steps faltered, the sand uncomfortably scorching between his toes. He should go back and explain properly. He’d been a jerk. Glancing over his shoulder, he was surprised by how far he’d come. Troy was small by their camp in the distance, and Brian couldn’t tell if he was still fiddling with the coconut. He didn’t want to hurt Troy’s feelings, and telling someone not to take something personally was generally a guarantee that they would get their back up.

Sweat trickled down his spine. It was fine; he’d apologize later, hopefully with some fresh fish in hand. First, he needed to take
himself
in hand. He was unaccountably horny, something he hadn’t felt in…wow. Months, probably. He’d always jerked off when he couldn’t sleep, but that was routine. This was the first time he’d felt truly pent up in ages. It was high time to get off.

Which meant of course that he couldn’t.

Well out of sight near the other end of the island, Brian jerked himself, spitting into his palm and stroking roughly. Imagining two women licking each other’s tits and pussies, he got hard.
That’s it. That’s it…

He leaned against a palm tree, the bark rough against his back and ass, his legs spread and discarded cargo shorts caught around one ankle. His hat rode up where he restlessly rolled his head back and forth, and he tossed it to the sand.

He wanted this. He
needed
this.
Come on, come on…

Troy invaded his mind, and Brian’s hand faltered. No, he had to stop worrying about their stupid fight and come already. This was way overdue. Closing his eyes, he bit his lip and tried to think of the women again, their breathy moans and—

“
Fuck!”

He snapped open his eyes. Why was he thinking about Troy and the flash of his white teeth when he smiled? God, this was exactly why Brian had wanted alone time. He was around Troy so much he couldn’t even jerk off without thinking about him.

After another minute of concerted effort, his dick started to chafe. Brian gave up, tension in his limbs and a headache brewing as he tugged his shorts back on, muttering to himself. “Might as well go fish. At least that’ll be productive.”

A couple hours later, he splashed through the shallows of the retreating tide to avoid the burning sand, head down and hat pulled low. He willed the sun to sink below the horizon and bring some relief. Muscles sore, he plodded on, the pole over his shoulder with the empty basket dangling from it.

He’d caught a few little ones, but realized that they could spoil in the sun before he made it back. It wasn’t worth the risk, and the whole endeavor had been pointless. If anything, he was more keyed up than when he left.

Lifting his head, Brian squinted toward their camp. Troy must have been napping or going to the bathroom. He snorted.
Bathroom.
It was ridiculous that he still thought of it that way when they were crapping in holes in the ground. Or maybe Troy was jerking off. Brian hoped he had more success.