Three Days in May
by Toby Johnston
Chapter 6
Just a fun day on the beach
The singing birds and the rising sun gently stirred me out of a deep, peaceful sleep. I blinked, my eyes slowly focusing on the most beautiful boy in the world. Ash was already awake, lying on his side exactly as we had fallen asleep. His head was propped up on his hand, just looking down at me with the cutest, warmest smile.
"Morning, Gray," he whispered, keeping his voice low to preserve the quiet intimacy of the moment. "I love you..."
"I love you too, Ash," I whispered. I reached up, tracing my fingers along the sharp curve of his jaw, matching his quiet tone. "Last night really happened, right? It wasn't just a beautiful dream…"
The biggest, most radiant smile burst across his face. "Me rocking your world? You with this beast right in your face?" he giggled, his hand sliding down to wrap firmly around my morning wood. "Us…falling in love…yeah. Definitely not a dream."
I lifted my head to kiss him, but the sudden stench—my own unmistakable stench—knocked me right back onto the pillow. "Good God, I stink."
He leaned down and kissed me anyway, completely unfazed. "So do I. I could be wrong, but I think it might be post-amazing-sex stink. Shake your cute little ass, we need to go shower."
"You have a shower?" I stared at him, completely bewildered. This guy never ceased to amaze me.
He shrugged, his smile turning a little mischievous. "Access to one, anyway. Come on, we need to get moving before your dad gets back out on the beach."
Ash led me through the scrub pines on yet another unmarked path. Willie tagged along, clearly knowing exactly where we were going as he ranged far out to the side and back again, checking for good smells and better smells, no doubt.
Eventually, we broke through the trees into a wide clearing. Spread out before us were the weather-worn, battered remnants of a house—only two walls were still standing, with the rest of the structure strewn about the grass like a giant's forgotten building blocks.
"Nice place," I observed, looking around the ruins. "Did you design this yourself? House Deconstructed? "
"Hah, exactly. I didn't win the Architectural Bake-off, though. I think the whole thing was rigged," he joked. "Actually, this place got completely leveled by the last hurricane. The owners are still battling it out with their insurance company, so it's just been sitting here."
He led me around the side of the tallest standing wall, and there it was—a fully functioning outdoor shower. It was a true outdoor shower now, consisting of just a showerhead sticking straight out of the weathered wood, with a small patch of the old porch floorboards being all that remained of the old shower stall. Ash knelt down and pulled a hidden plastic bucket out from underneath the edge of the porch, revealing a stash of his toiletries.
He twisted the knob, testing the water with his hand until a plume of steam rose into the crisp morning air. Then, without a hint of hesitation, he dropped his shorts and stepped onto the wet wood, turning back to face me in all his stunning, naked glory.
"Come on, Aquaboy " he grinned, tilting his head back into the spray and letting the warm water slick down his chest, rubbing the soap between his hands, "What are you waiting for, not afraid of the water are you?"
"Not waiting," I smirked, folding my arms over my chest and cocking my head to the side. "Just enjoying the opening show. Naked Quarterback Showers —critics rave: watch the water cascade down those corded muscles, check out his cute pale parts…"
He got hard. Real fast. I could see the exact moment the idea of putting on a performance for me hit his brain, sending a rush of blood straight to his groin. "Shut up and get under the water with me before I totally lose it," he laughed, his face flushing a little under the spray.
Taking pity on him, I finally dropped my shorts, stepping out of them and sauntering across the weathered porch planks with my own heavy cock bouncing freely from side to side.
I stepped into the streaming spray, pressing my front right up against his chest as the warm water enveloped us both. "Okay. For now," I purred, looking up into his eyes. "But we're definitely going to revisit this whole putting on a show thing another time. That got way too fast of a reaction out of you, Quarterback ..."
Ash swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he backed up until his shoulder blades hit the weather-worn wood of the standing wall. The warm water cascaded over his hair, streaming down his face and over the hard lines of his chest. "Gray," he breathed, a hand coming up to rest on my hips, his fingers twitching against my skin. "Don't tease me. Not right now."
"I'm not teasing. I'm making a promise," I murmured. I reached down, taking his bar of soap and rubbing it between my own palms until a thick, rich lather built up.
I stepped in closer, completely crowding his space until my hard length was branded against his thigh. Slowly, deliberately, I brought my soapy hands up to his shoulders, massaging the thick, corded muscles of his neck before sliding down his chest and over his fluttering stomach. Ash let out a ragged sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as my slick hands tracked paths over his abs, mapping out the athletic terrain of his body. He was shivering, but not from the cold.
"Last night, you took care of me," I whispered, my voice dropping an octave as I slid my hands lower, my thumbs tracing the deep lines of his hip bones. "You controlled me. It was incredible."
I let one hand slide between his thighs, my soapy fingers gently wrapping around his heavy, throbbing shaft. Ash gasped, his hips instinctively jerking forward into my palm, his head snapping back against the wall.
"But we're a team, Ash," I continued softly, my thumb stroking the leaking slit of his masculine beast, mimicking the friction he'd given me hours before. "An equal split. Next time, it's my turn. I'm going to be the one pushing you against the wall. I'm going to be the one driving you completely out of your mind. Understand?"
"Fuck, Gray…yes," he choked out, his knuckles turning white where he gripped my hips, trying to anchor himself as I gave his shaft a few slow, agonizingly slick strokes. He was practically vibrating under my touch, completely at my mercy. "Do it…do it now. Please."
I smirked, giving him one last, teasing squeeze before deliberately pulling my hand away and letting the streaming shower water rinse the soap from my skin.
"Not now," I giggled softly, stepping back out of his immediate reach while his eyes flew open in beautiful, desperate shock. "We have a clock ticking, remember? My dad is going to be on that beach any minute. Wash your hair, Quarterback . We need to move."
Oh, if looks could kill. Okay, probably not kill—more like flip me around, bend me over, and have his way with me all over again! In my defense, we really did need to move along. Dad had said he'd be an early fisherman out on the beach, which was wild because I think it was the first time he'd gone fishing in the seventeen years I've known him.
We did end up putting on a quick show for each other, though. It wasn't the real one I fully intended us to have later, but we both were hard as steel and that had to be dealt with. Have you ever watched your friend jerk off right in front of you? It's intensely hot. The morning sun was glinting off our drooling cocks and the droplets of water clinging all over our bodies. Add in the heavy breathing, the moans, and the breathless whimpers, and it was pure sensory overload. We stayed up close as we came, my cum splashing onto him and his onto me, washing away into the drain under the streaming water.
After we dried off, we shared his toothbrush. I didn't have one, obviously, and as Ash pointed out, we'd been kissing for the past twenty-four hours with our tongues deep in each other's mouths, not to mention the fact that we'd literally just swapped cum. This was no time to get queasy about a toothbrush
When we reached the crest of the dunes overlooking the beach, the Suburban was already parked on the sand. Three fishing poles were propped up, lines cast out into the surf. Of course, the littles were already splashing around in the water right next to them, so the mathematical odds of dad actually catching a single fish were severely low.
I gave him a wave from the ridgeline, assuming he'd hike up to meet us at the crest, but he just waved us down to the shore instead. Ash and I exchanged a tense look, our eyes darting up and down the open beach. The coast looked clear for the moment, but risking getting spotted by the deputies when our rescue was so close didn't seem like a smart play.
My iPhone buzzed in my pocket. A text from dad: >> Come on down. It's clear.
Naturally. He always texts like he's writing a formal letter to an English teacher.
Ash still looked seriously nervous, his jaw tight as he stared down at the open sand. Sensing his anxiety, I stepped in close and gave him a quick, reassuring hug. "Trust my dad," I whispered against his ear. "He really does know what he's doing. These deputies aren't going to know what hit them when the hammer falls."
As I pulled back, I didn't let go. I slid my fingers down his arm and locked my hand firmly in his—and I kept hold of it all the way down the steep dune, walking side by side right toward the car.
Dad waved us over to the folding table as we walked up, gesturing to a spread of breakfast wraps, hot coffee, and fresh fruit. My stomach let out a ferocious growl right on cue; we hadn't even cracked our own cooler this morning before running off to the shower. Ash and I descended on the food, and I was happy to see him showing none of yesterday's proud shyness about accepting charity. He was too hungry to care.
Between massive bites of my wrap, I nodded my head down the beach toward the main on-ramp. "Shouldn't we be worried about getting caught down here by the deputies?"
Dad grinned, a look of pure, smug satisfaction crossing his face. He was clearly enjoying this. "Number One son, do you not trust in the man?" He pointed a casual finger up toward the morning sky. "I have eyes up. Overhead, all day. I'll get a heads-up the second they even think about setting a foot on the sand, giving us plenty of time to react."
To prove his point, he tapped a tiny, skin-toned earpiece tucked into his ear—one I hadn't even noticed until just now. He looked directly at Ash, "Relax, Ash. Take a deep breath. You can hang down here on the beach all day, just be a normal teenage boy. No worries."
Looking at the family crowd, I kind of wished the deputies would make a few runs down the beach, forcing Ash and me back up into the dunes… alone. Not that I don't love my family, but still.
Mom came up from the surf with the littles at that exact moment—a swirling, chaotic mass of confusion, towels, flying sand, and an immediate demand for food. She paused, looking at Ash and me with a sudden expression of deep concern. "You boys look completely exhausted. Did you not get any sleep last night?"
Ash violently choked, almost spitting his bite of scrambled egg and bacon wrap right across the table. I instantly blushed a couple dozen shades of red, stammering over my words. "Uh, no, we slept. We're fine. Just…the sea air. It drains you."
"Are you sure?" Mom asked, stepping closer and squinting at us like she was trying to read a thermometer. "Ash, your eyes are bloodshot. Was the tent too cramped? I told your father that the two of you trying to share that small tent would have you right on top of each other. And what about your shoulder? Did the hard ground aggravate it?"
Ash swallowed his food with a massive, audible gulp, his hands tightly gripping his paper plate. "No, ma'am. We weren't on top, umm…never mind. Shoulder feels…great. Terrific. The ground was fine. Cushioned, even."
Oh my God. We weren't on top of each other— he was. And he was definitely cushioned...by me.
I tried so hard to stifle a snort at his disaster of a Freudian slip, but I wasn't very successful. A strangled, choking sound escaped my throat.
"Was it Willie?" Mom continued, turning her interrogation back to me, completely on a roll now. "Did Willie keep jumping on you two? Did he spend the whole night crowding you, forcing you into uncomfortable positions?"
"Mom, seriously, Willie was fine. He didn't force me into any contortionist positions," I squeaked out . I actually said it out loud. I'm going straight to Hell.
Ben, completely oblivious to the ongoing disaster, placed a comforting little hand on my arm. "Did you have bad dreams last night, Gray? That happens to me sometimes when I sleep outside."
"Yeah," I croaked, completely desperate. "Bad dreams. Exactly, Ben."
"Well, whatever it was, you both look entirely drained," Mom sighed, reaching out to brush a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. "You're practically shaking, Gray. Are you coming down with a fever? Let me feel your forehead—"
Dad finally stepped in to save us from the inquisition. He caught mom's attention, giving her a heavy, pointed look, mouthed Gay , and very slowly flicking his eyes from me, to Ash, and then down to the fact that we were practically vibrating with sheer panic.
Finally, the pieces clicked. Mom froze, her hand hovering midair. Her face instantly flushed twenty shades of red to match mine, and she let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh, pulling her hand back like she'd just touched a hot stove. "Ohhhh...um... oh . Sorry, boys. I should have...I mean, the weather was quite warm last night. Yes. I should have realized..."
Ben wasn't about to let it go. "Should have realized what, Mom? Why did Gray and his friend Ash not sleep well if it wasn't bad dreams?"
Little Amanda, apparently growing up way too fast all of a sudden, jumped up to the rescue. "Fish! Ben...look, there's a fish on the line! Go, go, go!"
Ben took off toward the surf like a dog on a squirrel. Amanda stayed behind for just a second, flashing me a knowing, mischievous smile. "You owe me, Gray," she whispered, before turning on her heel to follow her brother.
If mom was still embarrassed, she didn't let it show. I think the sudden realization that Ash and I had clearly formed some sort of relationship over the past twenty-four hours had piqued her intense curiosity. She and I had always had a great relationship, but she understood personal boundaries about as well as Willie did. That was all fine and well when I was the only one she was questioning, but there was no way in hell I was going to let her loose on Ash.
While she settled into a folding chair, nonchalantly donning her oversized sunglasses so she could study us without being obvious —it wasn't—I quickly turned my back to her and faced Dad.
"Eyes in the sky? That was fast," I said, changing the subject. "Does that mean everything's good for getting Ash off the island tonight?"
Dad nodded, instantly locking back into HRT Squadron Commander mode. "The eyes are pretty straightforward. We have a medium-altitude drone up. They'll monitor the on-ramp and the surrounding environment all day, then shift to infrared tonight through the extraction."
"They can see individual people? On the ground?" I gulped, a sudden, cold sweat breaking out across my neck.
Dad let out a short snort. "Yes. Yes, they can, Gray. But don't worry. They can't see inside a tent, or under any kind of solid cover. And the infrared resolution at night is pretty fuzzy anyway. That answer your unasked question?"
I nodded quickly, my face burning all over again as my mind instantly started swirling through the future possibilities for real alone time. Note to self: the reverse slope of the dunes was officially and completely off the table .
Dad spent the next two hours talking mom, Ash, and me through the exact logistics for the combined extraction. Ash and I were to be picked up directly off the beach right here. As in right here . As in do not wander down the shoreline in either direction—he must have emphasized that point a dozen times.
I understood dad was in HRT-mode, and that this was his entire life, but I'd never seen it up close and personal like this. It was scary. The certainty in his voice when he talked about the potential for things to go sideways made the hairs on my arms stand up. Feeling a sudden wave of vulnerability, I reached out for Ash's hand. I wasn't entirely sure if I was trying to reassure him, or if it was the exact opposite.
He held up an encrypted tactical radio, and set it on the table, explaining that he would leave it behind with us. With it, we'd receive the same heads-up if the deputies cruised the beach late, and we'd be able to communicate directly with the oncoming Zodiac team.
The plan was tight. The Zodiac would run a blacked-out beach insertion, scoop us up, and transport us out to a US Coast Guard cutter already moving into position off the coast. After a short stay on the vessel, a helicopter would airlift us to a secure location where we would finally reunite with the rest of the family. Meanwhile, dad would drive mom and the littles in the Suburban to the local Kill Devil Hills airfield. There, they would load the vehicle directly into the belly of a C-130 transport plane, Suburban and all, for the flight out.
"Why don't we all just go out on the C-130?" Mom asked, adjusting her sunglasses as she looked between us. "Wouldn't it be safer if everyone stays together?"
Dad shook his head, his expression grim. "Two major problems with that. First, we need Ash's extraction to be entirely covert. Nobody can get a heads-up that we have him in federal custody before the coordinated raids drop on Monday. Second, the sheriff currently has deputies stationed at both the main beach off-ramp and the perimeter of the airfield. Not only is there a high probability they'd spot us trying to smuggle Ash out, but depending on how desperate those local boys are getting, we could easily find ourselves walking right into a firefight."
Finally, Dad kicked us loose. Ash and I were both clearly in need of some serious teenage escapism. We charged down the sand and straight into the water, grabbing Jason and Ben as we flew past them. A few high-stepping strides and desperate jumps got us over the first few breaking waves, but eventually, there was no avoiding the inevitable—the ice-cold ocean water completely dousing our balls. Once we'd cleared that freezing hurdle, though, we dove right in, dunking ourselves and the younger boys completely under the surf.
As soon as we surfaced, it was a no-holds-barred chicken fight. Amanda immediately wanted in, so we ended up with her riding piggyback on me, while poor Ash had to contend with both Jason and Ben perched precariously on his shoulders. The littles were entirely convinced their all-boy team would trounce us, but the sheer physics of two chaotic kids who couldn't coordinate a single movement—leaning in completely different directions—had Ash doing everything he could just to stay upright. And that was before Amanda and I even closed in for the attack.
Right off the bat, Ben lost his balance and went down, wildly grabbing for anything to keep from going completely under. Anything turned out to be the waistband of Ash's trunks. He yanked them down with full force, completely exposing Ash's adorable, pale-white left cheek to the Atlantic Ocean…and me of course.
After we'd mercilessly taken them down in three successive attacks, I realized we were winning a little too easily. I had to lean back and whisper to Amanda that we needed to take a few falls, or we'd be dealing with some very bruised, fragile male egos for the rest of the day. She was a total champ about it, very artfully playing out her new role as a struggling fighter so it wasn't blatantly obvious to the boys that we were throwing the match.
We'd been in the water a good hour when a sharp, commanding whistle cut through the crash of the waves. It was dad. He waved us in with an urgent, sweeping motion. "Time to go into hiding, Ash. Deputies just left the off-ramp."
The fun instantly evaporated. Dad led Ash to the back of the Suburban and showed him a clever hollow he'd constructed right up against the rear of the backseat, completely covered by a chaotic, overflowing pile of random beach gear, towels, and clothes. Ash slid into the tight space, and dad meticulously moved the cover back into place. Looking at it from the outside, it just looked like a solid, disorganized mess of family beach stuff.
I was thoroughly impressed—not just with dad's ability to create a seamless disguise on the fly, but with his sudden, unprecedented ability to tolerate that level of absolute chaos in his normally OCD, precision-packed cargo area. I was significantly less impressed by the fact that there was only room for one.
A grueling ten minutes later, the sheriff's vehicle appeared, slowly cruising down the shoreline. Just like yesterday, one deputy was scanning the high dunes while the other checked out the crowds on the beach itself. They slowed down to a crawl and finally came to a full stop right in front of our setup. My heart violently leaped into my throat. Shit. How did they figure out Ash was here?
Dad, however, played it entirely cool. He walked right up to the driver's side window and casually started chatting them up. He must have spotted a military tattoo on the driver's arm, because all of a sudden, it was fun times at the local VFW. What unit? Which deployments? Where did they see combat? They immediately started rattling off a highly specific, rapid-fire vocabulary that I had never heard in my entire life.
But even while they were swapping war stories, I could see the other deputy's eyes constantly scanning our site. He even gave me a hard once-over, probably trying to make sure I wasn't Ash in a clever disguise. Slowly, casually, the passenger-side deputy started shifting his weight, working his way around so he could peer straight into the back of the Suburban.
I was completely freaking out, actively wondering how the hell I was going to tackle an armed deputy if he noticed something off. Dad didn't even seem to care; he didn't break his stride or alter his tone for a single second.
Through the rushing sound of blood in my ears, I caught the deputies telling dad they were looking for a specific kid—tall, eighteen-ish, who had allegedly been stealing from local homes and tourists along the beach. Dad jokingly gestured over to me, telling them I'd been in his line of sight the entire day, so he could personally vouch for my innocence. They all shared a hearty laugh while I just rolled my eyes, playing the part of the annoyed teenager perfectly.
Dad promised to keep a sharp eye out and let them know the second he saw anyone suspicious. After what felt like an eternity, the deputies finally rolled up their windows and moved on down the coast.
As soon as they were completely out of sight, dad freed Ash—who emerged looking very sweaty and overheated, despite the fact that the Suburban's air conditioning had been running the entire time. The two of us quickly bolted back into the surf to cool him off.
By the time we waded out deeper, the rest of the family was gathered on the shaded side of the vehicle, completely occupied with eating lunch. Taking advantage of the cover, I leaned in and gave Ash a long, deep kiss, reaching down beneath the surface to cup his balls, lifting them gently in the cool water.
Ash squirmed against my hand, his eyes darting back toward the beach. "Gray! Stop it. Your family is right there. You're going to make me hard."
I pulled back just enough to lock eyes, putting on my most serious, professional face. "This is purely a medical check-up, Ash. You were trapped in a dark, hot space for a dangerously long time. As your primary care provider, I need to ensure that your balls are still fully functional."
He let out a breathless snort, a wicked grin breaking across his face. "Well, if that's your medical goal, doctor, you're going to have to make me cum."
He totally did not expect me to take him up on the challenge. I took a deep breath and dropped straight down to my knees beneath the waves. Blindly reaching through the swirling water, I yanked on the strings of his surfer shorts and ripped the Velcro fly wide open. His cock was already pulsing and completely hard just from me playing with his balls. Holding my breath against the tide, I pressed my lips to his skin, kissing all along the heavy length of his shaft right up to his swollen head.
I was just about to take him entirely into my mouth when his fingers tangled in my wet hair, firmly but gently pulling me back up to the surface.
"Killjoy," I pouted, wiping the saltwater from my eyes as I broke the surface.
But I wasn't about to let him get away completely. I hooked my arm around his waist and pulled him flush against my chest—me standing firm against the current, him floating sideways in the water with his shorts still pushed down around his thighs. As the waves rocked him against me, I slid my hand back down, gently stroked his hard length, and leaned in close to whisper directly into his ear.
"Just a few more hours," I murmured, my voice thick. "Then we have some real alone time before the boat comes. Remember my promise. You. The wall. My turn."
Those few hours took an absolute eternity.
Eventually, though, the day finally wound down to a close. By late afternoon, the littles were completely played out, sunburned, sandy, and—most importantly—starving. Before we packed anything into the truck, dad gave Ash and me one final, intense run-through of the operational plan. It hadn't changed since this morning, but he wasn't taking any chances.
Mom still wasn't happy about the split. She was clearly very concerned, but she was trying her best not to let it show. When it came time to say goodbye, she was all fierce hugs and kisses—giving them equally to me and to Ash, which settled something warm in my chest. Ben and Jason were ecstatic, they got to sit with Willie in between them—there was just no way we could take him on the boat, let alone the helicopter.
Dad performed one last, meticulous status check on the encrypted radio before handing it over to me. He waited, engine idling, until Ash and I climbed the ridge and crested the dune on the way back toward the hidden campsite. We gave him a wave, watching him shift into drive and head for the off-ramp, then dropped safely out of sight.
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