A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 07 – OLD HABITS DIE HARD
Dive into Chapter 07 of “A Boy Who Came In from the Cold,” where old habits clash with new desires in this gripping gay romance. Experience tension, passion, and unexpected turns as the characters navigate their complex feelings—perfect for anyone seeking an enthralling read that challenges conventions. Don’t miss out on this compelling exploration of love and identity!
“Gosh, Chapter Seven already! To think this was only going to be a short story. Oh well, please enjoy, the party’s nearly over.
“As usual, if this story shows up anywhere but Literotica it’s been NICKED! Theft is cheap and nasty so go write your own!”
xxx.Sadie
AGDE: MORNING
Ant was still sleeping soundly when Rayne scrambled from the disarrayed bed and dragged himself across the corridor to the shower room. Thankfully there were no mirrors in the white tiled cubicle. The glare of lights on the polished surfaces was painful enough without the visual reminder that he was probably not looking his best right now. He turned on the water and stood underneath the jets until they grew too hot to tolerate, then adjusted the thermostat with a shaking hand and remained there with his eyes closed and his head tilted back, catching the cascade in his mouth and spitting it out until he began to feel slightly less defiled.
Still damp from the shower, he wandered through the shady galley and into the brighter spaces of the day room beyond. Although the room was empty the doors onto the rear deck were open and he could hear quiet conversation. Just as he was debating whether or not to slip unobtrusively back to bed a shadow fell across the room and he looked up into the curious, mildly amused grey eyes of Daniel Leland.
“I wasn’t expecting you to surface for a few hours yet,” the older man remarked a little too knowingly.
That brought back another memory from his experience of the previous night. He vaguely recalled that Terry Goodwill had seemed to be speaking to someone whilst he and Ant fucked Rayne in the bedroom, although there was no sign of the elderly pornographer at the time. Now he narrowed his eyes at the fellow suspiciously, ignoring the dig.
“Are there cameras in our room?” he demanded, all too conscious of the fact that he was still naked and Leland was not. Admittedly the old man wore nothing more than one of his omnipresent dangling sarongs and a pair of deck shoes but that was beside the point.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Daniel Leland enquired mildly, derailing his line of interrogation by refusing to appear remotely ashamed.
“It’s… it’s not exactly…” Rayne groped for a suitable handle and the older man supplied it for him neatly.
“…Nice? Well no, I suppose it isn’t. But then I was not given to understand that you were a ‘nice’ boy. If it troubles you I could always promise to turn them off.” He tilted his head, gazing at Rayne like some degenerate prophet from a biblical scene.
The boy chewed on his lower lip irritably. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”
“Precisely!” Leland’s expression visibly brightened as if this acknowledgement was somehow a satisfactory conclusion to their disagreement. “Maybe you would feel better after some breakfast; coffee and croissants… or some fruit juice perhaps?”
He turned and sauntered back onto the sunlit deck before his young guest could open his mouth to argue that he was not hungry. Awkwardly he followed his host out into the bright, summer morning, blinking against the intensity of the light. He had been expecting to find Terry out there so he was not sure whether to be relieved or embarrassed when he discovered that Daniel’s companion was a handsome looking woman of middle years who wore a magenta silk wrap, embroidered in gold thread around her slim waist. She was richly tanned, the colour of polished walnut veneer, with long, dark, red-gold hair tied back in a thick tail at the nape of her neck. Huge, round sunglasses perched on her nose obscuring much of her face and her neck was draped in strings of coloured beads and dangling ornaments that hung down between her bare breasts. Long, sun-tanned legs were crossed gracefully at the knee and her feet were bare, the toenails painted vivid pink to match her wrap. A pair of pink, beaded flip-flops had been casually discarded at the entrance to the deck area.
Rayne tried not to stare at her tits but it was hard as they did scream for attention. They were big and firm, at least a double handful apiece and tanned as deeply as the rest of her body (or the bits that he could see, in any case). Her skin was very smooth and glistened with oil and she wore ornamental swirls of golden leaves around her large, dark-brown nipples so that the teats protruded like coffee beans through the middle. He looked deliberately towards Dan Leland so that he was not forced to gaze at them.
“Rayne Wilde, meet Isolde Parvenue, one of my oldest friends out here. Isolde runs one of the most popular clubs at the Cap,” Dan explained.
“Ohhh, he is adorable!” the woman cooed in a husky, French-accented voice at least two octaves deeper than Rayne had been expecting. “So slim, so pale. He is ‘beautiful’, Daniel!”
Rayne felt a little heat rise to his cheeks at that. He forced his eyes back to hers, seeing long lashes flicker through the smoky lenses of her shades as she watched him.
“Uh… hi,” he said, blushing more hotly as the words came out more of a squeak than the assured greeting he had hoped for.
“Come and sit next to me,” Isolde purred, shifting on her cushioned bench and making some room for him. “Let me look at you, cherie. So pretty!”
He bit his lip and tucked his cock between his legs carefully as he sank onto the soft bench seat where she indicated. It felt wrong somehow to expose himself to a woman who was probably old enough to be his mother. Her body felt hot next to his and he swallowed dryly.
Isolde pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead and half turned, cupping his face in her hand. Her fingernails were long and pink as well, with little diamante pieces set into them that twinkled in the sunlight. She wore a wealth of gold and diamonds on her slim, brown fingers.
“Such lovely eyes,” she enthused. Her own were dark brown with little flecks of green and gold. Those long lashes were extended with a liberal coating of mascara. There were a few fine lines around the edges of her eyes and generous mouth but nothing more ageing than that. Her lips were fine and filled out with pale pink lipstick and a shimmer of gloss. He wondered if she was about to kiss him but she just let go of his chin and reached for her drink. “Like jewels!” she said, taking a little sip through the straw embedded in a heap of strawberries and crushed ice in her glass.
“Um… thanks,” Rayne murmured awkwardly.
“Rayne is going to make a film for me,” Daniel explained, saving him from further attempts at small talk. “Hopefully, he’s going to make me a lot of money as well.”
“You are Antoine’s boy?” Isolde asked, turning to face him again. “His little street boy? Terry has told me of you.”