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Elliott sighed and pushed his chair back from his desk, letting his head fall back and running a hand through his long hair. He had been trying to write all morning and… nothing. The success of his novel, hell, the fact that he’d even written it at all, was clearly a fluke. He’d used up all his ideas for his romance novel, Camellia Station, and obviously he’d never be able to write again.
He shook his head at his self-indulgent fatalism, and stood up, stretching. Maybe a walk would help spark inspiration. He didn’t live on a beautiful beach for nothing.
In fact, he didn’t get very far into a walk, instead drawn to the edge of the sea. The sun was high, and the waves glittered. He truly never got sick of it. Just as he was marveling at how the other townsfolk could manage to stay away from this beautiful spot on such a fine day, he spotted a figure standing at the other end of the beach, on the pier. His stomach gave a slight lurch as he recognized it as Dr. Harvey. Well, there was no denying that Harvey had inspired him in the past, in a manner of speaking. Maybe talking to him would help. He drew a deep breath, and walked towards the doctor.
Harvey didn’t notice his approach until Elliott was very close. “Oh!” he exclaimed, before giving a friendly smile. “Hello, Elliott.”
“Hi, Harvey,” said Elliott. “Don’t normally see you down here at this time of day.”
“I was heading over to the saloon to have lunch, but once I stepped outside I couldn’t bear to spend the rest of the day inside. Unusually, I don’t have any appointments this afternoon, so I got the food to go, grabbed a book, and came down here.”
“But what if there’s an emergency at the clinic?” Elliott asked in mock alarm, then tensed, worrying he’d seemed harsh. The two weren’t more than friendly acquaintances, but after about the twentieth time Harvey had reminded him to eat his vegetables or put on sunscreen, he’d started gently teasing him about his inability to turn off his doctorly advice.
Harvey’s lips twitched upwards, and Elliott relaxed in relief that he’d taken it the right way. “Maru is still there and can call me if I’m needed,” he said.
“Glad to hear it.” Elliott smiled at him.
He really didn’t mind it, the constant badgering about his health. He lived a lonely life on the beach, and it was nice to be cared for. He often ran into Harvey when he did go into town, the clinic being so central, and had come to look forward to receiving his kind, genuine concern.
After an awkward beat, Elliott cast around for conversation topics. “You mentioned a book? What are you reading?”
“Ah! Well…” Harvey, to Elliott’s surprise, appeared to be blushing. “It’s actually…” He reached in the messenger bag he was carrying, and pulled out a copy of Camellia Station.
“Oh!” Elliot was shocked. “That drivel!” he managed, joking to cover his astonishment and emotion. He was moved, and proud. He’d never encountered anyone reading his book in the wild before. And it was Harvey, of all people, who was the first.
“Not at all, it’s really wonderful Elliott, truly!” said Harvey.
Elliott swelled, even while thinking that that Harvey would hardly tell him any different to his face even if he didn’t like it. “What on earth possessed you to read my silly book?” he couldn’t help asking.
“Well, it’s true it isn’t normally the sort of thing I read,” Harvey admitted. “But I’ve never actually known someone who wrote a book before! It’s exciting! Like I know a real celebrity or something!” Color crept into his cheeks again as he seemed to realize his enthusiasm. “Not that— I mean, I know we don’t know each other very well— I don’t mean to suggest that— um—” Harvey trailed off, looking down at the ground.
“No, that’s great,” said Elliott. “I’m definitely not a celebrity, but I’m really flattered. And I think of you as a friend, Harvey.”
Harvey’s eyes snapped up to his, searching for a moment. “Good,” he smiled. “Me too.”
Never mind that it was probably more than friendly to jerk off while recalling how your friend had advised you to cough into your elbow while you had a cold so as not to spread germs. (And perhaps a little odd.) (But that was only one time, and Harvey didn’t need to know about it anyway.) (It was the earnestness of it, he thought, that got him.)
After a moment less awkward but somehow more charged than their last silence, Harvey asked, “Anyway, what made you decide to write a romance novel?”
“Well, you know the farmer, right? She and I are good friends, and talking with her gave me the idea,” Elliott said. “I had so many unfocused ideas, and I’d never even considered that genre before, but she turned me on to it. I never would have thought I’d write a romance novel, but it really did turn out to be the best avenue to explore the kind of relationships I had in my head.”
“Oh yeah, I saw you dedicated it to her, right?” Harvey shot Elliott a knowing look, and Elliott wanted to kick himself. He struggled to keep his tone light.
“Yeah, we’re just friends though, it’s not like that. I’m actually—” Elliott stopped, chickening out. “Um, actually supposed to be on the lookout for guys to set her up with. Wingman, you know,” he finished lamely. A glance over at Harvey made him think, however, that Harvey might have gotten his original message. “She’s not exactly my type,” was all he had the courage to add.
“She’s not really mine either,” Harvey chuckled. “In case you were considering me as a candidate.”
Their eyes met. Elliott saw what could only be desire reflected back at him, but couldn’t quite believe a cute doctor, the cute doctor, could be interested in him, the weirdo recluse writer.
Elliott held the gaze several beats past when he was really pretty sure Harvey was somehow, actually feeling the same thing he was feeling. But just as his lust was finally about to overcome his self-doubt, Harvey crashed his mouth into Elliott’s first.
Elliott made a noise in the back of his throat, an expression of mingled surprise, relief, excitement, and desire, which seemed to intensify Harvey’s response. His arms encircled Elliott’s neck and his tongue sought Elliott’s. Elliott responded eagerly, quickly becoming completely lost in the doctor’s embrace.
Finally gaining a tiny bit of control over himself, Elliott steered Harvey roughly into the back wall of the nearby Fish Shop, their mouths never parting. He promptly lost it again at the sensation of the other man’s body pressed against his own from chest to groin, the hard length he could feel pressing against his hip being the last straw. Elliott began rutting against Harvey in a frenzy, losing himself more and more into the intense friction, making little noises into Harvey’s mouth as they continued to kiss hard.
Harvey pulled his head back for a moment, though his hips continued moving against Elliott’s. “Don’t you live really close to here?” he asked breathlessly.
Elliott was insensible to everything except rejoining their mouths and continuing to rock his cock against Harvey. He reignited their kiss, continuing for several seconds before Harvey’s question dimly penetrated his lust-addled brain.
“Can’t make it,” he said, short of words once again that day. “Need you now.” He dove back in, and began fumbling at Harvey’s belt. Now that he knew Harvey wanted him too, Elliott felt invincibly bold.
Harvey’s eyes widened. “But… Willy…” he said, weakly protesting between Elliott’s eager attentions. “He’ll hear.”
“We'd better keep it down then,” Elliott said. Harvey groaned softly, straining to follow instructions as he helped Elliott unbuckle his pants. Elliott reached his goal and wrapped a hand around Harvey’s cock, beginning to stroke him firmly. He paused on an upstroke, running his thumb over the slit at the tip, and was rewarded with a gasp from the man in his arms as a small gush of liquid engulfed his fingertip. He spread it along the tip of Harvey’s cock, a soft, teasing touch along the most sensitive parts of his organ.
Elliott’s own cock strained at the front of his pants. He gasped in turn as Harvey pressed the heel of his palm into it and began rubbing. He ground into Harvey’s hand, but it wasn’t enough. “Touch me,” he begged.
Harvey plunged his hand down the front of Elliott’s trousers, and Elliott moaned in relief as his aching length was surrounded. He continued grinding into Harvey’s hand, matching the rhythm of his hips to that of his hand stroking the other man’s cock.
“Oh my God, Harvey,” Elliott said. He buried his head in Harvey’s shoulder as each of them worked the other’s cock intensely. Elliott’s was leaking near continuously.
Harvey turned his head and began mouthing at Elliott’s ear. Elliott heard his breaths grow more ragged and reached with his free hand into his pocket for his handkerchief, readying it before—
“Elliott! Going to—” was all the warning Harvey gave before Elliott felt his cock throb and he came over Elliott’s fingers and into the handkerchief. His breathing slowed and he sagged a bit against Elliott, though his hand never stopped pumping Elliott's cock. He tongued at Elliott’s earlobe some more.
“Of course you carry a handkerchief,” Harvey murmured, right into his ear. Elliott could hear the smile in his voice, and his heart skipped a beat.
He brought an arm back around Harvey and pulled him closer as Harvey picked up the pace on his cock. Elliott pushed into him, fucking his hand, and his pleasure became almost unbearably intense. Elliott tightened, clinging to Harvey as with one last enormous thrust, he spilled into the handkerchief too. Harvey held him and continued stroking as he spurted over and over again.
Breathing hard, Elliott pressed several soft, quick kisses to Harvey’s lips, savoring the feel of the doctor's mustache against his own bare upper lip. Then he folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket. Despite having just come, a thrill ran through him and his cock gave a slight twitch at the thought of how he would be carrying around their mingled semen.
He began to regain his senses, realizing he and Harvey were standing outside, where anyone could find them, with their cocks out. This thought also threatened to reinflate his erection, but he forced his mind in a more innocent direction as he tucked himself back into his pants. Harvey did the same.
Elliott looked over and saw Harvey looking back at him, the hint of a smile on his lips. They both broke out in sheepish laughter. It seemed impossible that there could be any shyness left between them now, but somehow there still was, a little.
Elliott knew he should probably get back to work. He certainly had some ideas for his new romance novel. But it could wait. He wouldn’t be forgetting a moment of what had just happened anytime soon. All he knew was he didn’t want this to end yet.
“You— are you— do you want— what are you doing right now?”
Harvey let out a quick burst of air. “Well…”
Elliott laughed. “No, I mean, do you want to keep—er—hanging out? I don't know if you know this, but I actually live really close to here.”
"You don't say,” said Harvey, his eyes sparkling. "I'd like that, Elliott."
Then Harvey turned serious. "Plus, we should really wash our hands," he said.
Elliott grinned.