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Conan was bored. He was trapped in a sardine can with the most aggravating, frustrating tedious little man he had ever had pleasure of getting to know. Why he ever agreed to spend any amount of time, long term or short, stuck on a planned vacation to Italy with Jordan Schlansky was a true mystery to him? Anything for a laugh…but this was almost crossing the line.
When Conan was bored, Conan was antsy. And when Conan was antsy, the obnoxious impish side of him had free reign to torment. Unfortunately, for Jordan, he was in the direct line of fire of Conan’s playful abuse. He was really going to have some fun with the man today.
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The day started when Jordan pulled up in front of the hotel where they had been staying in Florence. Conan was barely out of bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The pristine white sheets were tangled and bunched up at the end of the bed. His head was still spinning and buzzing from the amount of one-sided talking that was done within the course of the evening. He had just wanted the smaller man to shut up and fuck him. He had only so many hours of the day that he could have to have the real Jordan all to himself. He had really hard time remembering why it was he fell in love with the man in the first place. Then he remembered the hours when Jordan stopped all talking and just showed Conan how much he meant to him. The man was an animal. His body was still trying to recover from the ardent display of passion that was boiling over in the petite, built body of his lover.
He had been admonished several times during the course of the evening for making him look foolish throughout the day, particularly at the wine tasting. Conan had accepted his punishment, gladly, often asking “Yes, sir…may I have another?” When Jordan gave him a ‘severe tongue lashing’. Conan would let him go as far as he allowed him before reminding him who was the boss and who was really in control. Jordan would always acquiesce and nothing turned Conan on more.
It was quiet in the room. Blessedly quiet. There was a folded newspaper set beside him on the nightstand and before he had even thought to ask there had been a knock at the door with his room service. Hot Caffe’ corretto and a large breakfast of fine Italian cuisine lay out before him on the breakfast cart. He smiled inwardly. He knew Jordan had called ahead for him and made the breakfast arrangements, picking items he thought Conan would like, but mostly what he thought Conan would need, to keep his body healthy.
He sat back on the bed with his cup of coffee and the paper completely nude. He liked the way the warm morning breeze blew through the opened windows cooling his sweaty skin. He ran a hand through his orange poof of hair. It was messily out of place. He remembered delicate, slender fingers pushing their way through the product in his hair and that was the first thing that became out of place. It was always the first thing that Jordan went for. Once Jordan went for his hair, Conan knew all bets were off.
A timid knock came at the door. Conan shook his head. He knew the man had his own key. He knew he didn’t have to knock. Yet, still it was his habit to knock on the door to announce his presence. Conan groaned and got up from the bed. He didn’t bother covering himself. He opened the door and stood there in all of his naked glory, leaning his arm against the door frame and plastered the most salacious, flirty, toothy grin on his face. The laughter reached his eyes as he trailed his hand from the top of his chest downward. “Back for more, are you? Gggrrroowwlll.”
Jordan stood in the doorway. He barely registered the sight of his boyfriend and boss, standing there naked and pale. His eyes flickered briefly, giving the slightest acknowledgement to Conan’s physique, settling back to the area of his face, looking but not looking at him. He didn’t say a word.
“I’m getting cold….” Conan said, looking the fastidious man up and down. He was dressed casually in a light blue button up, with a starched collar and a grey zippered sweater, over grey slacks. He held a pair of black aviator shades in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. Everything was neat and pressed and not a thread or a piece of lint out of place. How Conan just wanted to get back to what was underneath all of the tidiness and find the man writhing deliciously underneath him. Jordan continued to look at him.
“God…just get in here.” He stepped away from the door so Jordan could enter.
Jordan came in and surveyed the state of the room. He knew that the camera crew and everyone would be there within the next hour and Conan hadn’t even begun to make a move towards getting ready.
“So…are you planning on working today, or?” He said moving about the room, picking up things that were out of place and stopping before the food cart.
“I was getting around to it.” Conan said flopping back down on the bed. “And three…two….one…”
“Because you know the production crew likes to keep a really tight schedule and if we don’t get out of here at some point, we’ll be putting them behind and then the show doesn’t get finished and then we are losing money and then whose fault would that be?” He began to ramble. Conan scrubbed his hands over his face.
“UGGHH…”
“You haven’t even showered yet.”
“Mr. Observant. I also haven’t been kissed yet.” He said making kissy faces.
“You haven’t showered yet.” Jordan sat down in one of the cabana chairs crossing his legs primly and lacing his hands over a knee.
Conan knew that was about as far as he was getting with Jordan for the time being. He groaned and got out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom and turned on the hot water to the shower. He looked around and once again, saw the myriad of bottles and jars of creams and lotions and fragrances littering the ledge of the windowsill, the top of the sink, every available space on the counter, the side of the tub. “How could one man…?” He stopped in the middle of his sentence. “JORDAN!” He yelled.
Jordan sighed pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He moved to the bathroom and stood in the doorway, leaning slightly against it. Conan had a wastebasket in his hand and was waiting until he had Jordan’s attention. “Know why I got this?”
“I’m assuming it has something to do with the amount of products that are in your way that you are constantly lecturing me about.”
“Bingo.”
“You’re not throwing them away.”
“Watch me.” Conan took his arm and in one fell swoop knocked all of the bottles and jars that were on top of the sink counter into the wastebasket. He turned and one by one reading out the labels on the rest of them tossed them into the basket as well. He shoved the basket in Jordan’s arms and took three-point shots with some of the bottles that he found in the shower stall. Jordan looked at the growing pile in the wastebasket and up at Conan. Conan smiled at him and walked back over. He reached in the basket and pulled out his special formula shampoo. “I’m going to need this.” He said and curved his lip up at Jordan, turning around and strutting back to the shower.
Jordan took the wastebasket of his products back out to the living area and waited patiently. He thought of the night he and Conan had spent together. It was their first night in Italy. It meant something to Jordan. He had known Conan for almost twenty years now and they had had their ups and many downs. But since becoming more romantically involved with him in a physical and emotional sense ten years prior, (he had the exact date, time and situation that moved their relationship status memorized and cataloged) he had taken every available opportunity that he could to learn and study Conan in a more deeper almost religious state and it meant something to the very fiber of his being. He began to tolerate the other man more than he would any other human being, and to Jordan that meant love. He was able to look past the outward brashness, manic over-the-top need for self-validation and focus on the intimacy that he shared between himself and the man currently singing show tunes behind the bathroom door.
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Now they both sat sandwiched in the small red fiat, barely an inch of free space between them. Conan had promised Jordan that he was going to be on his best behavior that day. He burst out laughing before he could even finish his sentence. Jordan knew he was in for a long and tiresome afternoon, but he was prepared to handle it in his usual calm and well-mannered demeanor. He had seen that the sexual intercourse shared between the two of them last night had apparently invigorated his partner to an almost frenzied state of pranking and teasing all at Jordan’s expense. He was keeping a mental note of the number of times he was goaded and pushed into starting an argument with Conan. He had almost cracked a few times, but he had taken a lot of deep breaths and knew it was for the purpose of “good entertainment”.
Conan had grown tired of making the “fart noises” and the baby cries out of his phone. He had teased Jordan relentlessly about how profound he was, comparing him to Yoda and saying he was about as deep as a puddle of water on a drying sidewalk. He had poked and prodded the man trying to get any reaction out of him. He remembered laughing until he couldn’t breathe when Jordan finally offered him a small smile after cutting him off to the sounds of more farting when they had stalled in the middle of the road. That smile immediately did something to Conan’s insides. He knew that Jordan knew that only a smile would drive him crazy. It had become his goal to get the man to laugh once and then they would need to turn the cameras off. It was getting harder and harder to get Jordan there. He waited for his moment.
There was a lapse of conversation in the car. For a brief moment, Jordan had stopped talking about the countryside, and about the experiences that he had had on his many other solo journeys and was just content to drive and look out the window. Conan was resting his head back against the seat, his shades still on, his eyes closed and was just listening to the sound of the wheels on the road. He had given up trying to make jokes and had to relent that Jordan had worn him down.
He had been brushing shoulders every so often with his companion and he noted the times that he did that, that Jordan would imperceptibly shiver and Conan would smile. He decided to amp up his game. Underneath the dash cam he put a hand on Jordan’s knee. Jordan flinched slightly and quickly glanced from the road to Conan’s hand and then back to the road. Conan began to massage the tension out of Jordan’s knee. He knew he was succeeding in his mission when Jordan went to shift the gear downward but left his hand on top of Conan’s brushing his thumb smoothly over the back of his hand.
“How many more miles to Tuscany?” Conan said softly. His ears were ringing now. The silence was louder than Jordan’s constant buzz of words. But he was also becoming distracted at how horny Jordan was making him.
“That depends.”
“Can’t I just get a straight answer out of you, for once?”
“Twenty miles.”
“Thank you. Pull over. I got to take a leak.”
“What…now?”
“No…two days from now…what do you think?”
Jordan pinched his lips together. He didn’t want Conan relieving himself along the open road and making a mockery of the magnificence of the location they were in. He wanted Conan to understand that every rock, every bush, every tree and every cloud had a significance, a romance, an intimacy about it and that it was very connecting, deep personal meaning to him and it was not something that he could just go all over like it was nothing. He found an old road to turn down and after about a yard or two more he pulled the car to a stop. He sat there with his head down.
“What’s the matter, now?” Conan turned to face him taking his shades off and looking at his tightly wound boyfriend. His eyes became distracted by the opened buttons on his shirt. He wanted to open a few more.
“Please…just take a moment to appreciate my situation.” Jordan said quietly.
“That’s all I’ve done on this trip is appreciate your situation. You’ve appreciated it all over the streets of Florence yesterday and now I’m appreciating it out here in the woods. What do you want from me Jordan?”
Conan came back from taking his piss from a few feet into the brush behind a tree. He tripped over a large branch in the grass and cursed loudly. Jordan watched his antics from his seat. They were the only ones out here getting these location shots. The rest of the crew had passed them about two hours ago and would meet them in Tuscany. Jordan clicked the dash camera off.
Conan opened the door and squeezed his way back inside. The car was having difficulties starting up once again and Conan thought he would once again make light of the situation. He was upset at how he left the car and didn’t want to turn anything into an argument. This was their time. This was their vacation that they had planned on for a while. He knew he could be unreasonable but often didn’t care. But he didn’t want Jordan to be completely unhappy.
The car started rolling backwards and Conan panicked. He gripped Jordan’s shoulder and told him to hit the emergency break. It came to a stop. His nerves made him start the mockery up once again.
“I think that’s a bread stick. It comes free with the car.”
Jordan put a hand over his mouth.
“This car is a toy. It’s a pastry. We’re driving around basically in an old walnut. And we’re stuck on a hill. And every time you try and start the car we roll backwards.”
Jordan had begun smiling. Conan knew things were going to get interesting soon enough. He had just known the man sitting next to him for so long he knew when the right buttons were finally being pressed. Conan took his hand and started rubbing his fingers with his own. He also noticed quickly that the dash cam light was no longer red. He wasn’t opposed to getting some action, but it was going to be kind of rough in the aluminum death trap. He dropped his voice suggestively and moved closer to Jordan’s ear and noticed the goosebumps rise on the other man’s skin. He curled his lip into a smile.
“Think about getting this car started…and be very careful with your valuable Conan payload.” He said and nibbled Jordan’s earlobe. He knew he had him game, set and match, when Jordan trembled and exhaled. Conan closed his eyes and brought his lips to the soft skin just below his ear. His hand went back to exploring Jordan’s slacks moving carefully and deliberately higher up his thigh as Jordan started the car up.
Jordan bit his lip and tried to maintain his weakening composure. He wanted this more than anything. Another memory and experience to add to his memory palace. He closed his eyes behind his shades and the tiniest of moans escaped his lips.
“Stop the car.” Conan said, kissing his way down the sharp jawline of his lover’s face. He was two seconds away from ripping the man’s shirt open and having his way with him, confining constrictions be damned.
“Stop it?” Jordan breathed. He turned off the ignition once again. He tilted his neck up to grant Conan more access to kissing his way to the open gap in his shirt. Conan smiled as he pressed kisses on his skin.
“Just one other thing…” He said his hand finding his true target. He pressed the button on his cell phone and the loud sounds of farting noises filled the air once again. Conan laughed helplessly against Jordan’s neck and Jordan finally broke down laughing. He pushed Conan away from him.
“You’re a fool!”