that."

"I don't know. I don't know why it's hit me like this," Daren was saying. And I heard the catch in his voice. He was on the edge of control. I poured him another glass—and not really to steady his nerves as I claimed to him, but to bring him closer to that edge.

"Maybe it's that immortality thing," I suggested gently.

"That immortality thing?"

"Yes, guys your age are just coming out of the phase where they assume they are invulnerable. That they'll live forever and never have to think about death. And then, wham, sometime a long about now, when you are approaching twenty and facing the world on your own, things start to happen to upset that apple cart. Ted could have died. One moment you expect him to be coming through the door and doing a gym routine with you and then the next moment, poof, he's gone. Is that what has you so choked up over this?"

"Yeah, I guess," Daren answered. "Well most of it . . . Maybe in part. It's just that. . . ."

But he couldn't go on. The wine was loosening him up, tearing down his defenses, and he hunched over in the hot tub, staring at the water, not at me. Unable to complete his thought . . . to tell me what was bothering him the most. Not knowing that I already knew. I seized the moment, and scooted around the seating platform rim of the tub and came in close beside him. I then put my arm around him and hugged him tight into my side.

"There, there," I whispered. "It will be fine. I'll take care of you."

He looked up into my eyes, his face questioning, not having any idea what I meant. Seizing the moment again, I brought the hand of the arm I was using to hug him and put it on his cheek and turned his head to mine. I brushed my lips to his and felt him stiffen, but before he could recover from the shock of that, I pressed my lips to his more insistently. My other arm circled around his chest, and held him there, squirming against me, his eyes all bulgy and shocked, staring into mine.

He finally managed to pull away and sputter, "God, Lance, what . . .?"

He maybe was bulking up nicely, but I was way stronger than he was. I picked him up, the buoyancy of the water helping me, and moved him over to where he was sitting in my lap. I held him in a tight hug while he fought me, trying to escape my embracing, not managing to do so.

"Lance! Let me . . ."

"Shush, shush," I was saying over his protests in my most soothing voice.

"Oh, God, Lance. You're not wearing a suit. Your cock . . . it's . . . it's . . ."

And indeed my cock was engorging and was plastered to the small of his back, running up toward his shoulder blades.

"There, there. Don't fight me. Just calm down. I know, I know, Daren."

"You know what?" It was a panicked, plaintive question—thrown out while he was renewing his struggle to be free.

"I know what you're not telling me about why Ted's failure to show up tonight was such a shock to you."