(no subject)

[lobelia321]

Title: Up Shit Creek
Part: 4/8
Author: Lobelia; lobelia321@aol.com
Other info: See Part 1/8

Billy had never held another bloke's dick before. He had only ever felt his own dick. Karl's cock felt different. Well, more or less the same, of course, but it was of a different width and of a different length and there was a different kind of vein in a different place, and then, also, Billy was holding it from the other side. When Billy closed his fist around his own dick, his thumb came to rest against the tender spot just underneath the head, and if he nudged that spot, he could make himself come very fast. But when Billy closed his fist around Karl's cock, his thumb was on the outside, and when he nudged his thumb up, it hit a completely different spot.

It had a startling effect, nevertheless. As soon as Billy began to nudge his thumb, Karl began to grunt again, and then, Karl finally got the zipper undone and wrapped his hand around Billy's dick.

Billy gasped.

What Karl was doing was all wrong, of course. Karl was grabbing Billy much too hard, pressing and pumping Billy as if he were some sort of Hungarian sausage. And there was no rhythm to it, and Karl's thumb was nowhere to be felt, and it was much too fast, oh, much... too... fast... shit. Fuck, fuck.

"Oh," moaned Billy. And because Karl wasn't doing anything with his thumb, Billy did things to Karl with his own thumb. And the things Billy was doing to Karl with his thumb seemed to drive Karl into an absolute frenzy. Karl was grunting. Karl was biting into Billy's shoulder. Karl was moving up and down against Billy.

"Oh God," moaned Billy.

The beige shoreline was still there, the small sandy beach was still visible, but it was all growing somewhat blurry. Something was going wrong with Billy's vision; he really must go and see an optometrist about that. And yes, the birds were still calling, but their calls were strangely fuzzy and far-way, and maybe Billy should see an ear specialist as well. And now the boat seemed to be swaying in a most alarming way, maybe the boat was going to capsize, maybe they were both going to topple into the water and drown, but Billy didn't fucking care because Karl was pumping him like nobody's business, doing it all wrong but Billy's brain had gone on holiday to Cambodia, and Billy's dick didn't seem to care if Karl was doing it all wrong. And sooner or later this ridiculous situation was going to come to an end, that was for sure, sooner or later, well, more like sooner... oh, more like very soon... more like... oh... like now. Like. Now.

For several seconds, the boat vanished, the sky vanished, Karl vanished, and Billy was in an Alpine meadow full of little white daisies. The grass was green, there was a brown cow in the distance, it was like a fucking ad for Swiss chocolate. Except it wasn't an ad, it was an orgasm.

How peculiar.

How peculiar to be transported to an Alpine meadow when you were actually on a New Zealand river.

How peculiar and how fucking insane.

The meadow was receding. The cow shrank as if seen through the wrong end of a zoom lens. Billy returned from his Alpine meadow and found himself back in the boat, on the river, clinging to Karl. He kept his nose in Karl's neck. He kept his hand around Karl's cock, Karl's rapidly shrinking, come-covered cock. How ridiculous, to be sitting there, fingers covered in Karl's sticky jism, boxers wet with his own come, Karl breathing on his neck in ragged gulps.

The reason Billy kept clinging onto Karl was that he had absolutely no fucking idea what to do next.

So for the longest time they just clung. Billy didn't say anything, Karl didn't say anything. Billy didn't keep silent because he felt tongue-tied, he just didn't feel the need to say anything. Karl, it seemed, didn't either, and that was a blessing and a half. Even though Billy wouldn't even have minded a bit of droning about fish and tides. A bit of droning might actually have been just the thing to send him into a nice little doze.

Karl's breathing was quite regular now. In fact, it was Karl who had fallen into a nice little doze against Billy's neck. Billy felt sure that the bench was creating a permanent weal against his back and he was getting cramp in his calves but Karl was a warm weight against his front and Karl's breath was warm against his neck and, come to think of it, Billy felt warm all over.

But he was still irritated. Yes, he was warm. Yes, he was slightly drowsy. But those were purely physiological reactions. Mentally, Billy was seething. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He couldn't believe that Karl had jumped his buns and that he, Billy, had gone along with it, and that he had come, actually fucking come, into Karl Urban's hand. And how would he ever be able to tell Dom about this? This was not the stuff that funny little anecdotes were made of.

What was worse was that Karl had now woken up. Karl seemed to think that the sordid little scenario they had just enacted on this boat constituted some sort of passport to lovey-dovey bliss. He was nibbling Billy's ears in a most annoying fashion, and then licking Billy's jaw, and he was making low cooing noises.

"Look, Karl," said Billy, unceremoniously pushing at Karl. "We did this once, okay, but we're not going to do it again."

Karl's face fell. "Why..." he began to say.

"I just don't like you," said Billy.

Karl blanched. His face went white as a parsnip.

"In that way," Billy added, quickly if lamely. "I don't like you in that way."

"Oh," Karl said in a flat voice. "But I thought..."

Billy cut him off, "Well, you thought wrong. Now get off."

It was remarkable how fast the mood in the boat could go from passionately hot to icy. Karl moved off. Karl was pale as death. Karl's lips were pinched. Karl's eyes which had been so full and open a moment earlier, emptied rapidly and became small and slitty. The whole of Karl seemed to coil inwards.

Fuck this boat. Billy did not want to be stuck on this boat one second longer. He did not want to be stuck here, with bloody Karl, looking at Karl's pinched face and slitty eyes. Billy wanted to be thirty miles away. So, it seemed, did Karl because he bent down and started busying himself with his stuff. That should last a while, given how much stuff he had with him. Karl was bent over, face hidden, opening zips, rustling plastic bags, digging around under rolled-up towels, unfastening velcro strips. He pulled out a box of tissues, started to clean himself up, thrust the box at Billy without saying a word and without looking up. Karl was shaking. Karl's shoulders were shaking. Karl's hands were shaking as he crumpled up the tissues and stuffed them into a side pocket of his bag.

Oh, great. Now Billy had a shaking Karl on his hands. A shaking, lovelorn Karl, suppressing tears and shaking with the effort of it. Well, wasn't that just fucking great, and what a wonderful addition to this already disastrous little outing. Of all the people in the world to go soppy on Billy. It was too ridiculous.

Observing Karl's shaking shoulders and Karl's shaking hands made Billy shake, too. It made Billy shake with irritation. Billy discovered that his previous annoyance had been nothing compared to this whole new knot of irritation and rage sitting in his guts and waiting to be released.

"Pull yourself together," he said to Karl, shortly.

Karl looked up, and Billy realised that Karl hadn't been shaking with suppressed tears at all. Karl had been shaking with anger, and his eyes were small and slitty, and they burnt like black bombs.

"What?" Karl said, and Billy didn't like the low tone of his voice.

"I said..." Billy repeated, testily.

"I heard you," said Karl, still in that low voice. "And let me tell you, I have really just about had enough."

"What..." began Billy.

"No, you shut up," continued Karl, his voice shaking but not loud. "You've been a fucking pain in the arse all afternoon, and have I said anything? No. I've been trying to be nice to you. I know how slutted you are about Dom."

"Dom?" croaked Billy. His ears began to burn. "Slutted?"

"Yes, you know: pissed off. I know how much you wanted to go parachuting yourself. And how upset you were that Orli picked Dom and not you to go with him. I wanted to make this day nice for you. So that you wouldn't mind about the parachuting."

"Oho," said Billy, finding his voice again. "You have got that so wrong."

"So I understand that you're in a bad mood, and I understand that you'd rather be somewhere else, but just stop being at me. Especially now that we... Because it is really starting to get to me."

Billy looked at Karl, at Karl shaking, at Karl making slitty eyes. The sight of Karl made the knot of rage in Billy's guts burn. It made the rage burn and rise in waves of gall to Billy's head, and then the knot unravelled and the gall exploded out of Billy's mouth.

"You have got that so fucking wrong, Karl!" shouted Billy. "I never wanted to go bloody parachuting! I just wanted to have a nice little boating outing. The reason I'm in a bad mood, Karl, is not because of the parachuting; it's because of you! It's because you're a boring, stuck-up stupid fart..."

Karl's eyes blazed. "And you are a rude, arrogant, cruel Scottish prick," he said, still in that dangerously low voice. "And if I'd known what you were really like I sure as fuck wouldn't have bothered to fall in love with you."

"Love?" scoffed Billy. The word was like oil upon the flames of his fury. "Love?! Don't make me puke, you sad sod! Don't tell me you're in *love* with me!"

"Was," corrected Karl. "Was. I'm not going to bother with it from now on, that's for sure. Not after you have insulted me and humiliated me."

"Insulted and humiliated?" screeched Billy. "What, you mean, *you* were all over me like a bloody leech! Putting your filthy paws all over me and mauling me..."

"Shut up," said Karl. "You were enjoying it."

"I was *not*!" retorted Billy.

Karl jumped up and the boat lurched. Billy's stomach lurched. It was unclear whether Billy's stomach lurched because of the boat rocking or because of the way Karl looked at him, shaking and slitty and looming like a bison about to run amok.

"I should just throw you overboard," Karl said, voice barely audible. There was a vein on his neck that looked as if it was about to pop. "I should just chuck you in the bloody water but your swimming is probably as crap as your rowing."

"Oh, we'll see about that," yelled Billy, jumping up himself, shaking with anger himself, going cross-eyed with rage and barely able to focus on Karl's stupid slitty face.

Billy threw himself at Karl. Karl lunged at Billy. The boat rocked violently. Their shoes were going 'bonk, bank' on the wooden boards of the boat's bottom. Water sprayed over the sides. They were grappling with each other, panting with frustration, pulling and tugging, kicking and punching. It wasn't easy fighting on a boat. The space was much too small. There was nowhere to get a proper hold with one's feet. And Karl was fucking tall and fucking strong and fucking mad as a bull. The boat tossed and pitched and rolled and yawed. Their legs got caught around each other, their hands clawed at thin air, they both pitched over the side, the backs of Billy's knees painfully scraping along the rowlock. There was a loud 'sploosh'. Water closed over Billy's head and gurgled into his nose. Bloody freezing water. Much more freezing than he would have believed possible from just trailing his hand in it. And not soft and silky at all.

The water was dragging at Billy's clothes. His cotton shirt, his jeans, his socks, his shoes, all were soaking themselves full of water. It was difficult to move with all those waterlogged things hanging off him. And Karl was thrashing about just in front of his nose. Then there was a bang; Billy felt a blow to his head, and another one, he opened his mouth and swallowed water. It was the boat. He'd hit his head against the boat's side and moved his arms madly to get away from it.

Billy surfaced and gulped for air. The boat was still upright. It hadn't capsized but it was bobbing madly on the waves. Karl was a mere two feet away, spluttering, water streaming from his hair down his forehead and along his cheeks and nose.

"Fuck you, Billy," he spluttered.

"Fuck you too, Karl," said Billy, grabbed Karl's head and kissed him.

Karl immediately kissed him back.

It was an awkward, totally ridiculous and uncomfortable kiss. It was a kiss that shouldn't even exist. Two guys treading water, fully clothed, heads bobbing unsteadily, nothing to grab onto, water everywhere. And Billy was definitely not going to tell Dom about this part of the day's outing, about how he was kissing Karl in the water and kissing him more and kissing him harder and then grabbing onto him after all, knowing he'd only pull him under. And sure enough, they went under but didn't break their kiss, just closed their eyes, blindly taking in lips and tongues and fucking zillions of gallons of river into the bargain.

Then they came up again, spitting water, and Karl said, "You stupid cunt, we could have capsized." And Billy said, "Fucked if I care." And Karl said, "Yeah, fucked too." And they licked each other's lips and teeth, cold wet lips against cold wet skin, and shivered into each other's mouths.

"We're going to die of cold," said Karl.

"Yeah, fuck," said Billy.

With two swift strokes, Karl was at the boat. He had his hands on the gunwale and pulled himself up. Billy scrambled after him. They sat at the bottom of the boat, streaming with water and breathing heavily.

Being wet out of the water was even worse than being wet in the water. Cool air blew on the soaked clothes and the soaked hair. The soaked clothes clung wetly to the soaked skin. The jeans were worst. They were like stiff, wet pieces of cardboard wrapped around legs. Billy sneezed. He could almost feel a flu crawling up from his lungs into his throat and head. He felt shivery, his teeth were chattering, his lips felt black and blue. In addition, his left upper arm and his right thigh also felt black and blue, from where Karl had punched and pinched him only minutes before.

What an outing.

TBC