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GRNW part 6 by LE Franks
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How is this one going to end? I'm getting really curious ...
Too bad Marcus isn’t here, he’d totally kill to see these two roll around in the flesh.
His BFF was quite the connoisseur of men in tight pants and puffy shirts. In fact, it was kind of a kink. Dangle the latest pirate porn in front of him and you’d risk losing an arm to his snatch and grab.
His current favorite “Is that a Pirate in Your Pantaloons or Arrr You Happy to See Me?” was a case in point. Baxter could almost hear the moist slapping and guttural grunts as BlueBalls the Pirate drilled his cabin boy in maneuvers.
If this crazy day turned out to be just a bad sushi trip, then the grunting, swearing pirates wrestling on the ground at his feet must really be just the soundtrack from Marcus’s porno, playing in the background.
Any minute now he’d wake up and be back in West Hollywood, Marcus’s fingers stroking through his sweaty blond hair as he shivered his way through the food poisoning, recovering on his friend’s ratty blue couch.
The last time he’d woken up in Marcus’s care, bad Uni wasn’t to blame. In fact, food poisoning would have been a blessing compared to the massive hangover left in the wake of Baxter’s binge drinking. Apparently there was not enough alcohol in Los Angeles to fill all the cracks in a broken heart. But he tried.
Earlier that day, Baxter had walked into the 1930’s bungalow he shared with his fiancé, Steve, only to find him in bed with an eager candidate for the California State’s Assembly—the young Republican a firm believer in getting out and pressing the flesh.
In the ensuing fight, Steve revealed he’d had been cheating on him for years. Baxter might have forgiven him the dick-slip but he couldn’t forgive the politics. Steve had only been pretending to be a liberal in order to get into Baxter’s pants when they met at a Repeal Prop 8 rally in Century City; it was Steve’s confession that he voted the Romney/Ryan ticket in 2012 that provided the killing blow to their love.
The sound of silk ripping drew Baxter’s attention back to the pair. Rodrigo’s black silk shirt hung in tatters, Guy tearing way half the front revealing a deep rose-pink nipple pierced through with a burnished gold hoop glinting in the light filtering through the canopy around them.
He groaned. Baxter had a sudden craving for popcorn and the desire to run off to a corner drug store for supplies.
His breathy noise was enough to distract Rodrigo’s from his match with Guy long enough for his brawny rival to attack.
The first blow was unexpected, or at least unseen. Guy’s sucker punch landing on Rodrigo’s blind side pushed him back against the trunk of a palm tree sprouting out of the carpet.
“Bastardo,” Rodrigo snarled with a lunge, driving Guy to the ground. His fist snapped back before drilling forward into Guy’s unprotected ribs. In a move worthy of any top tier collegiate wrestler, Guy took advantage of Rodrigo’s forward momentum and rolled him underneath him.
Baxter was transfixed and not just a little. Shoving his free hand into his front pocket to give himself a little more room in his pants, he felt something hard. Giving it a tug, he pulled out the gold doubloon, wondering idly what would happen if he rubbed it again now that both pirates were here and, frankly, joined at the hip.
He began to rub the raised relief image with his thumb, round and round in a clock-wise motion for two rotations, then reversing it for three. He kept repeating the pattern, unconsciously increasing the speed of his rotations the longer the fight continued.
Guy had Rodrigo writhing and gagging, twisting under his massive arms trying to break free of the headlock. No matter how he maneuvered, Rodrigo was firmly in Guy’s control.
Frankly, it was starting to seem like they were doing more wriggling than wrestling at this stage, and it was more than a little hot. As a matter of fact, now that Baxter considered it, everything was getting more than a little hot. Ever since the fight began, Baxter had noticed the temperature slowly rising, at first pleasantly chasing the chill from his wet clothes.
Now, the air was thick and sticky with heat as if he was breathing water. The wall he leaned against felt like it had been sitting under the sun for hours baking, making him move every few minutes when it became uncomfortable.
As he began to notice the changes, his head began to throb and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, tempting him to stagger back to the esca-fall to splash water on his face. He felt the very essence of time pressing against him…hot and heavy like the air, as if they were risking everything if they stayed here.
Baxter shoved himself upright and swayed over to where the pirates were still struggling. “Guy, let Rodrigo go. Rodrigo, stop. Come on…we don’t have time for this…”
He held out his hand, still clutching and rubbing the doubloon as Guy pulled them both up on their knees facing Baxter. A beautifully naked forearm still pressing hard against Rodrigo’s throat sent ripples under all that gorgeous olive skin and shivers down Baxter’s spine.
It was either lust or he’d contracted jungle fever. Whichever, he seemed to have caught Rodrigo’s attention at least. The Spaniard took a look at Baxter and froze, all color draining from his face.
“No! Guapo!” Rodrigo clawed at Guy’s arm choking on his words. “Guiomar, let me go…Guapo stop—the coin. You mustn’t rub…not with us both…” Baxter’s gaze found Rodrigo’s again. Just a split second was enough to see the horror in the pirate’s eyes.
Time slowed, three pairs of eyes swiveling to Baxter’s hand. The doubloon now glowed brighter than ever and visibly vibrated in his palm, the metal becoming incredibly hot.
Jerking free of Guy, Rodrigo dove for him just as a hot white light exploded from the coin in a concussive wave, knocking them off their feet.
Baxter flew backwards, slamming into the boulder that seemed to have formed out of a book cart if the crystalized wheel next to his cheek was any indication. He slid along the rock’s face until he was puddled onto odd mixture of sand and carpet. The last think he noticed was a palm tree sporting a sign: Level Two Authorized Personnel Only, no public access.
Baxter groaned.
“What is going on out here? Can’t you read the sign? Authorized personnel only. I’m going to have to ask you men to leave immedia—what in the world have you done to that book?”
Opening his eyes, all Baxter could see was a tall, slender man in his late twenties standing over him, fury flashing in his green eyes with one slender finger pointing at Unraveling The Curse. The book lay half buried in sand, a little worse for wear from their adventures so far.
Baxter blinked his eyes and took another look. This time he noticed hair the color of espresso, the khaki pants, the white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and most importantly… the lanyard with a key card around his neck that read: Seattle Public Library, Andrew Shepard, Research Librarian.