Retreat

Retreat

Posted: September 21, 2007
Title: Retreat
Author: Decadence and Sileya
Type: RPS
Characters: Craig/Karl
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: We don’t know them, and we don’t claim to. We just like their faces and names.
Beta: sirkayem. He’s a pip

Summary: After an injury ends his sports career, Karl retreats to the United States – but he doesn’t expect to find a reason to stay.

*****

Another day dawned at Misty Mornings, and Craig was reminded of why the spa was named as such. It was an entirely appropriate moniker, as the mornings were often clouded by colored mists as the sun cut through the fog that clung to the mountainside. Walking out onto his balcony, Craig stretched and greeted the day with his usual yoga routine, pulling his muscles until he felt ready to begin the day.

Meditating quietly on the straw mat on his balcony, Craig couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision to move here. He’d been happy. He’d been content. He’d never had to worry about a relationship, because he wasn’t at all attracted to his guests. He grinned at that. ‘Clever boy,’ he congratulated himself, ‘surrounding yourself with women when you’re attracted to men...’

He meditated for several more moments before springing up off of the mat and into the shower. He dressed for the day in khakis and a polo shirt with a tasteful and discreet ‘Misty Mornings’ emblazoned on it. Heading down the curving stairs, he unlocked the front door to the main house, greeting Myra as she came up the steps and walked across the wide porch. “Another day, another dollar, boss?” she asked.

Craig grinned at her. “More guests today, Myra. Better watch that sassy tongue of yours until they’re squared away,” he teased, “after all, their dollars fill your pockets.”

He chuckled as she headed to her desk, murmuring about ‘cruel bosses who were slave drivers’. “I haven’t signed your performance evaluation yet, Myra...best behave...”

==

Karl grumbled as he shifted his leg yet again, trying to get comfortable in the way too luxurious leather seats in the limo. After three connections through various airports, he was exhausted and hurting, and by all indications, he’d reached his destination in the early morning.

He sighed and pulled at the knee brace, wincing a bit as the abused joint twinged under the layers of stretched fabric and hard plastic stays. He frowned down at the knee and then looked out the window. He couldn’t see much - the mountains seem to be covered with fog, although the glimpses he gained in the early morning sunlight were quite beautiful. He figured he’d like it here, as long as it was quiet, as promised. His physical therapist had heard about this resort from an American colleague, and Karl, desperate to get away from all the press and fuss at home in Auckland, had jumped at the chance to disappear into anonymity.

He leaned his head back as the limo drove along, one hand unconsciously rubbing his knee lightly. He wondered how much longer a drive it was. They’d left the airport two hours ago.

Craig glanced out the wide bay windows of his office as a limo pulled up. Seeing a limo was nothing new here, but the tall, dark-haired man who climbed out was a surprise. He glanced over his rosters for today’s arrivals.

Hmmm... Miranda Otto...Olivia Langdon (who everyone knew was Liv Tyler)...Kaye Urban...

Why was there a guy here? He stood up and walked to the entry way of the main building, stepping out on the porch to greet the gentleman, who hobbled up the ramp even as the limo driver unloaded a set of leather duffle bags.

“Excuse me, sir? May I help you?”

Halfway up the stairs, Karl peered up at the man who appeared on the porch, but kept one-stepping his way up, leaning heavily on the cane in his right hand. He knew from experience that stopping on the stairs was a bad idea. To the man’s credit, he waited politely.

“I’m checking in. Name’s Urban,” Karl rumbled quietly, exhaustion plain on his face. He looked over the man quickly, approving of the clean-cut look and glancing around the porch to get his bearings.

Craig nearly choked as he heard the name, mentally berating Myra for the ‘Kaye Urban’ mishap. “Welcome, Mr. Urban, I’m afraid there’s been a slight mix-up with your reservation.” He was preparing to tell Mr. Urban that this was a mistake when the tired eyes lift to meet his. He could see the utter exhaustion mixed with pain, and he knew he couldn’t turn this man away. Not someone who was in such obvious need of healing and relaxation. “We’ve been overbooked,” he lied, “and since our clientele is primarily female, and you are quite obviously male...” Oh he couldn’t do this...

“You’ll have to room in the main lodge, where my quarters are, instead of a guest cottage. Sorry, Mr. Urban, for the inconvenience. We do have an elevator, if the stairs become too much of an issue for you,” he blurted out.

Karl peered into the lodge, which reminded him a lot of some of the resorts in New Zealand. Similar weather and surrounds, too, he noted as he looked off into the woods. He gathered what little strength he had when he heard about the mix up, but relaxed when the employee smoothed over the situation. Karl figured this man must be the site manager, if he lived in the lodge.

“Frankly, I don’t care where the room is, as long as it’s quiet. And a lift would be great, for today at least,” Karl answered, leaning on his cane. He looked back down as the limo departed, leaving his luggage at the foot of the stairs. “I’d help with the bags, but...” he waved his other hand at the cane and bulky brace covering his right leg and knee. “Can you point me in the right direction? It’s been a REALLY long trip.”

Craig picked up the bags immediately, breezing past the other man. “Follow me, and I’ll show you the way.”

He moved slowly, pretending to be encumbered by the luggage so the flagging man could keep up. He led him to the elevator, pointing out the in-lodge amenities as they passed. “Most of the luxuries are off in other buildings, Mr. Urban, but we do have a small weight room as well as a hot tub, indoor pool and sauna in this building. They’re private,” he added, not mentioning that they were HIS, “for the guests of the main house only. Feel free to use them at any time.”

He jabbed at the elevator call button, motioning the other man inside and following him with the luggage. He punched at the Upper Level button, and the elevator quickly moved to the second floor. He led the way to a wide oak door. “This will be your room during the length of your stay, Mr. Urban,” he opened the door, pushing it wide to allow entry. He dropped the bags at the foot of the king-size bed, “I’m Craig Parker, and I’m across the way from you,” he swept his hand to the door on the opposite side of the opening to the lobby.

Karl followed, looking around obediently although it took most of his nonexistent energy just to keep up. He leaned against the wall in the elevator, closing his eyes momentarily until the lift stopped. He followed the employee out and nodded when the man introduced himself.

Preparing to walk away, Craig turned back at the last moment. “If I may ask, sir, are you from New Zealand?” he asked hopefully.

Karl glanced around, not really caring about the room at this point, just glad to be able to stop in one place. Although he knew he’d be hitting the hot tub soon, with his knee. Karl lowered himself carefully into a leather-upholstered chair at the desk as Craig asked his question. His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Ah, yeah, I am. How’d you know that?” He wondered briefly if his physical therapist explained who he was when she made the reservation for him. With a pang of disappointment, he figured so. He’d hoped no one here would know him.

Craig smiled at the man, “I was born in Fiji and raised in New Zealand. I’ve been here in America for 10 years now, but the accent is a dead give away,” he explained. “Makes me homesick,” he mused, before shaking himself out of his stupor. “You must be exhausted, you poor thing. I know from experience how tedious a flight from Zid to the States can be.” He turned the bed back and closed the drapes in the room. “And you’re likely still on Zid time, as well. I’ll let you rest.” He stepped to the door. “I’ll have dinner sent up to you later. Enjoy your rest, Mr. Urban.”

Karl watched, bemused, as Craig closed the curtains and pulled down the covers, talking soothingly the whole time. Karl smiled, more in relief than anything. He figured he could get along with this guy, and he didn’t seem to know Karl at all. Bending over slightly, Karl started to pull at the straps on the knee brace. “Thanks for the help,” he said quietly as Craig made for the door. “I may come looking to ask directions for the hot tub. The bum leg here is not at all happy after 30 hours on airplanes. Even in first class, there’s just not enough leg room.” He sighed and fiddled with the hinge fastenings.

Craig watched sympathetically as the injured man removed the brace. “Just call the lobby. Myra will either page me or will direct you to the tub,” he answered. As an afterthought, he walked forward several steps and offered a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Urban.”

Karl looked up at the friendly smile, blinking, then slowly reached for the outstretched hand. When their hands slid together, he got an impression of warm, smooth flesh and a firm grip. And an odd tingle, which he dismissed as exhaustion and numbness. “Thanks,” Karl murmured. “And...the same.” He nodded slightly as their hands stayed clasped for a moment in greeting.

Craig pulled away regretfully, pulled the door shut and leaned back against it. “I can’t do this again,” he whispered to himself, rubbing his tingling palm against his khaki-clad thigh. “I refuse to do it again...”

Karl swallowed hard as the door closed and pushed away the odd tingling feelings, attributing it to exhaustion. He rolled his eyes as he pulled himself out of the chair, leaning even more on the cane now that the brace was off. “You’re here to heal, Urban. Heal up and figure out what you’re going to do with your worthless life. Not get laid,” he muttered to himself as he limped to the bedroom, pulled off his clothes, got a tall glass of water and crashed on the bed. He sighed and blinked up at the ceiling, letting the aches and pains flood him as he drifted to sleep, hearing that soothing voice in his head the whole time.

==

Craig tapped lightly on the door, pushing it open when there was no answer. He stepped into the darkened bedroom, placing the tray gently onto the nightstand, and he stood there for several moments, watching the other man sleep.

“What does the K stand for, Mr. Urban?” he whispered unthinkingly, slipping quietly out of the room when the other man started to stir.

Karl blearily rolled over, wincing as his knee straightened, and he saw a figure moving out of the dark bedroom into the dimly lit sitting room. He didn’t think about the question, answering as he sat up.

“K’s for Karl,” he mumbled, leaning over to switch on the lamp, seeing the tray. He leaned to look out the half closed door. “That you, Craig?”

Craig closed his eyes, flinching at being caught. “Um...yeah - ‘s me,” he called, walking back into the bedroom with a bottle of water from the mini-bar.

“I have your room key as well, Mr. Urban,” Craig pulled a key from his pocket, laying it on the nightstand beside the tray. “I’m sorry for intruding uninvited, but you need to eat and I needed to give you your key.”

“‘S okay,” Karl murmured, rubbing his face and looking around, feeling somewhat lost. “Food’s good.” He shifted out from under the covers, carefully lowering his leg to the floor. He was wearing form-fitting bike shorts that extended down his thighs, but nothing to cover the angry scars that ran over and around his right knee. He glanced over the tray, grabbing the bottle of water first thing.

“Do me a favor, yeah?” he asked in between swallows.

Craig held back his exclamations of shock over Karl’s mangled knee, sensing the other man wouldn’t appreciate pity. “Yes?” he asked, waiting to see what request the other man had for him.

Karl looked a little abashed. “Call me Karl, okay? Mr. Urban...brings up memories I’d rather not remember right now.” He turned up his nose, thinking of the press barrage he’d been living with for two months now. He shifted slightly on the bed, reaching over to take a chip off the tray, looking over the fruit and sandwich with a pleased smile.

Craig smiled softly and nodded in response to Mr. ...Karl’s request. “Okay, Karl.” He laughed as he realized how silly they sounded. “You have full run of the main house while you’re here. Most of the rooms are open all night long, but the front door locks at midnight,” he explained. “If you’re socializing with the ladies, please remember to lock up after you return.”

Karl raised both eyebrows in surprise, then shook his head. “Thanks, but not interested. I came here to get away from all that.” He frowned. “Ladies? As in a lot of ladies? Not vacationers? Or hikers or ...something? Did you tell me something about this earlier? I was more than a little out of it.” He grabbed half a sandwich and took a bite as he watched Craig curiously.

Craig blushed slightly. “This is a women’s resort and spa. Several years ago it was open to anyone, but the format changed when I came. We cater to several well-known ladies, and I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the resort,” he smiled. “After all - you are extremely handsome and I - oh fuck...” He stopped talking abruptly. “I apologize Mr. Ur - Karl. I’ll let you rest now.”

Karl’s jaw set firmly when Craig mentioned “women’s resort,” and his face was positively grim when he heard “well-known ladies.” He didn’t hear the rest of what the other man said, lost in growing annoyance and not a little fear. “Well known? As in celebrities?” Instead of excited, Karl looked dejected. “Christ. I’ll get no peace. I’ll just have to stay here and not go out. I’m gonna kill Delphia. Kill her. Dead. More than dead,” he muttered, looking around him like a tiger in a cage.

Craig stepped forward quickly, hating the agitated look that crossed Karl’s face. He rested a hand on Karl’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here. They’re very nice and unassuming...and you’re welcome to do as you wish while you’re here. You can stay in the main house, if that’s your wish...” Craig talked fast, trying to convince Karl to stay.

Karl looked more than a little worried and exasperated. “Well, I don’t want to go out and hobnob, that’s for sure.” He sighed and shrugged, then looked up at Craig. “Sorry, I was just...looking forward to some quiet time away from the press, away from the doctors, away from...” he spluttered a little, “the damn fans. I just need a break.”

Craig, slightly confused, backed away. “Press? Fans? I don’t understand.” He shook his head, straightening and donning his professional demeanor again. “Your outside reputation matters not at Misty Mountains, Mr. Urban. While you are a guest at this resort, you are merely ‘Karl’.” He moved toward the door again. “If there is more you require, sir, you may call the front desk.”

Blinking over Craig’s swift change to a cooler demeanor, Karl just nodded. “Yeah, all right. Didn’t mean to put that shit on ya. Hey, thanks for the dinner tray,” he called after Craig as the other man backed out of the room.

==

After leaving Karl’s room, Craig headed straight to his office. “Hold all my calls, Myra,” he barked. He slumped into his desk chair, jiggled his mouse to stop his screensaver, and then his fingers started flying over the keyboard. Okay... Google. Google had everything. Karl Urban.

Bingo.

Karl Urban’s knee injury Saturday will take him out for the season and possibly end his professional career...injured in a three-player collision...injury was deliberately inflicted...

Oh, Karl.

...with great despair that I announce the team has lost Karl Urban’s skills for the season and likely forever...major surgery is required to repair Karl’s injury...not likely he’ll ever play in professional sports again...

Craig stared at the screen as he read further.

...the injury was particularly grievous...will require several corrective surgeries and extended physical therapy to repair...will be able to walk again, despite early rumors...Karl was our ticket to the International Cup...is considered one of the most accomplished Kiwi-born players ever...

Craig felt as if the blood had drained from his face after reading the article. He did a Google image search, and yes - this was his Karl.

His Karl. Where in the fuck did that come from? He buried his head in his hands. It was going to be a long month.

==

Karl frowned at the heavy knee brace, but struggled into it, knowing he’d regret it later if he didn’t. Now that it was...he glanced at the bedside clock...10 p.m. and he’d slept all day but for the early dinner, he figured he’d go scrounge something in the kitchen then come back upstairs. Hopefully this late, he wouldn’t run into anyone.

He finished with the Velcro straps and grabbed his cane, hauling himself out of the chair and testing his weight on that leg gingerly. “Hmm. Not too bad,” he murmured as he hobbled to the door, opening it carefully and peering out. The door across the hall was closed. He stepped out, pulling his door shut behind him, and moved to the elevator, not stupid enough to try the stairs. He got down to the main floor quickly enough, passing the front door and finding a large great room, and then a dining room. He walked on the slate tile barefoot, his cane making a slight plunking sound as he leaned on it.

Craig was closing the office door when he heard the soft ding of the lift. He stepped around the counter to see Karl making his way toward the kitchen, and curious, he walked a few paces behind, not wanting to startle him. “Mr. Urban? May I help you sir?”

His back stiffening in reflex, Karl forced himself to relax and not snap at the man who only asked to help. “Ah, I was going to see what I could find in the kitchen. Something light...” he paused. “Is that all right? I guess you might not want the guests messing around in there...”

While talking, Karl shifted his weight off his right leg, the cane scooting a bit on the stone tile and throwing him off balance. Craig rushed forward as the cane started sliding on the tile, catching Karl around the waist. When he felt the tension in the body in his arms, he stepped back a little. Karl caught his breath as Craig steadied him, his whole body stiffening in surprise. “Oh…uh, thanks,” he murmured as the other man stepped back. “That would have hurt.”

“I apologize, Mr. Urban. Feel free to wander to your heart’s content.” He half turned, preparing to leave when he turned back and added, “I make a good milkshake, if you’re interested...” Immediately he felt foolish, shaking his head. “Never mind, anything in the house is at your disposal, Mr. Urban. Goodnight.”

“Hey, a milkshake sounds great...Craig...” Karl answered, hoping the man would go back to calling him by his given name. “I just need something light and cool. That would be wonderful.”

Craig offered a small smile. “Follow me, then.” He led the way to the kitchen, pulling out one of the plush barstools for Karl to perch on. Patting the cushion, he grinned, “Park it, Karl.” He then moved around the island, gathering the blender and some glasses, and the milk. “What flavor?”

Karl smiled and nodded, following Craig’s order and shifting onto the chair, then watching Craig move around. “Um, strawberry?” he asked hopefully, eyes wide and pleading.

Craig fetched the ice cream from the deep freezer, digging in a drawer for a scoop before looking into Karl’s eyes. “Have you ever been denied anything when flashing those eyes at anyone?” He blushed at his own words, dipping his head as he began to scoop the stubborn frozen ice cream into the blender. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Used to being around women all the time, flattery seems to work well,” he tried to excuse his words.

Leaning over the bar, Karl laughed simply and heartily, grinning. “Well, you probably know more about women than most guys, then,” he said. And then with a shrug, he added, “And no, I don’t figure I’ve lost out much for the asking.” Eyes twinkling, he braced his chin on his palm, elbow on the bar, watching Craig scoop the ice cream.

Craig poured some milk in with the ice cream, adding a shot of rum at the last moment, grinning as he started the blender. When the ice cream was smooth, he poured them both a glass, plucking straws from a drawer and passing Karl one. “Snack is served, Mr. Urban,” he said with a smirk.

Karl narrowed his eyes and accepted the glass. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Parker.” He wasn’t sure why it was so important to him that Craig feel comfortable and on equal footing with him, but Karl did know he wanted to make it clear.

“Just want you to know, I don’t expect to be waited on and catered to. Of course, I appreciate the amenities, but...it’s just kind of nice to have someone normal to talk to,” Karl mumbled and he gave a half shrug, looking up to meet Craig’s eyes. “I’ve been catered to and pandered to and simpered at until I was sick with it.”

“Well then,” Craig retorted, “you can wash your own glass, Karl.” He looked up to find Karl smiling at him. “I won’t cater to you or pander to your needs, okay?”

The athlete smiled wider, pleased to have been understood. “Great. I don’t figure I’ll be out amongst the ladies, so you may not see me much for awhile. I’ll probably hide most of the time. I’ve got a lot of thinking...and healing to do,” Karl tapped the side of the knee brace.

“Umm...” Craig started nervously, “I hope you don’t mind, but I checked you out on the web. After you mentioned press and fans...I make it a habit to know who I have here so I know what to possibly expect...” Karl glanced up sharply when Craig told him what he did, but his frown softened immediately upon seeing the other man’s expression. He couldn’t feel angry. Craig smiled at Karl, whispering, “Don’t be mad?”

“Nah, it’s OK. I’d want to know, too, if some crazy injured guy showed up at my women’s resort, expected special treatment. I don’t mind so much, I mean, you’re not freaking out or going all “fan” on me,” he laughed weakly. “And you’re getting my autograph on the bill anyway, so...” Karl relaxed and shrugged, meeting Craig’s gaze evenly.

“Now that I know who you are,” Craig replied, “I can protect you from inquiries if someone finds out you’re here. But this is a small town. The locals are all entranced by their local, large-breasted celebrities.” He laughed as he pictured Dolly in his mind. She’d been to the resort once.

Karl snorted. “I don’t think I have to worry about that. I didn’t really figure on anyone here knowing me, that was sort of the point. It would be rather odd to have an Australian rules football fanatic in America.” He took another slurp of milkshake, smiling happily.

Craig smiled at the relaxed look that crosses Karl’s face. “You look happy now, Karl, if you don’t mind me saying so. Much happier than this morning...”

Karl nodded. “Got some sleep after 32 hours of traveling, following sneaking about for two days, trying to get out of the country without the press catching wind of it. Wasn’t pretty when I left the hospital last week.” He played with the straw in his shake. “It’s quiet here,” he added. “That’s so...wonderful.”

Craig’s chest swelled with pride for his resort even as he felt pity for Karl’s ordeal with the press. “It is quiet here. We don’t have any stragglers up here on the mountain. It’s a gated resort, so it’s very limited access,” he explained.

When he sucked the glass dry, he looked up at Karl, pressing the heel of his hand to his brow. “Ow...brain freeze...I think you’ll have to wash my glass as well.” When Karl sniggered, Craig asked quietly, “Was it bad?”

Karl quieted, sliding the glass back and forth on the countertop idly. “The injury? Yeah. Pretty bad. The press? Worse.” He made an ugly face. “But what can you do, you know? Ignore it, for the most part. I’ve got a good agent, he looks out for me. But football, hell. Football’s like religion to a lot of those fans. When I went out, and the press started talking like the team was over and done, some of them went crazy.” His eyes glazed to a faraway look. “I missed a lot of it, being in the hospital. I’m pretty grateful for that, actually.”

Craig reached across the counter, covering Karl’s hand with his own. “I can promise you, Karl, that as long as you’re here, I’ll do anything I can to make sure you’re not bothered.”

He looked at the hand on his, feeling the warmth, then turned his hand to clasp the other lightly, sliding their palms together again. “Thanks,” Karl whispered, looking up to meet stormy eyes with quiet gratitude and warmth, realizing he just might have found a friend.

==

Karl gasped his way through the last of his physical therapy exercises, finally letting his leg drop carefully to the floor and falling back to lay prone, covered with sweat. He snarled a little at his condition - simple leg lifts knocking him out for the count when he used to be able to play two games of football and still go out for drinks after. Now, he was lucky to drag himself off the floor. Then the anger melted into exhaustion, and he sighed, just feeling sad.

After a few more minutes he rolled and grabbed the hand towel he’d laid on the bed, mopping his face. Thinking ahead as his therapist recommended, he exercised in bike shorts or swim trunks so he could go right to the hot tub. He tiredly pulled himself up from the floor and hobbled carefully to the bathroom. Although he’d rather leave the cane behind, he knew better, especially since he wasn’t wearing the brace. He wiped the worst of the sweat off his chest and back with the hand towel, then slung a large bath towel around his neck and padded back to the phone in the front room. He punched the numbers listed for the office and waited to ask directions to the hot tub.

Myra poked her head in his office door. “Boss? That Urban guy wants to use the hot tub...is that allowed?” She knew the tub was Craig’s own private retreat.

As Craig passed her desk, he told her, “Tell Mr. Urban that someone will be at his room shortly to show him the way.” He took a couple more steps before turning back. “Oh - and Myra? Mr. Urban is to be treated the same as I am, with all privileges and access to the house.” He started to walk away again, throwing over his shoulder, “But without the smart arse remarks...”

Myra snapped her mouth shut on the remark, picking the phone back up. “Mr. Urban,” she purred in a sweet voice, “Mr. Parker will be right up to show you the way.”

“Thanks,” Karl murmured, hanging up the phone and staring at it like it had changed into a snake. The woman’s voice had gone from efficient and polite to...smug and ingratiating. He sighed. “I suppose he couldn’t keep it from the staff,” Karl murmured, figuring Craig must have shared his identity. He winced and hobbled toward the door, leaning heavily on the cane.

Craig tried to calm his nerves at seeing Karl again, telling himself that he was being stupid to be attracted to someone like Karl. He lifted his fist ready to rap on the door when it opened and he was staring wide-eyed at a sweaty Karl Urban. A shirtless, sweaty, flushed Karl Urban. He realized that it appeared as if he planned to punch Karl, so he lowered his fist slowly. He grinned at Karl. “Hot tub?”

Karl sighed happily. “I’d be pathetically grateful,” he said, eyes pleading. Feeling pretty good about his chances, he pointed to his head. “See? They’ve never let me down.” He even blinked his eyes several times, playing the cute card. Not that he expected it to work on a guy, but, after it being funny last night...

Craig dipped his head, smiling bashfully at the unintended flirtation. “You don’t have to bat your eyes at me, Karl. I’ll show you to the tub anyway.” He waited for Karl to close the door before they walked towards a semi-enclosed balcony at the back of the house. He pulled the door open, letting Karl pass through, and showed him where the robes were kept. He perched on a lounge chair for a moment.

“The tub is always warm,” he explained, “but the jets are in an odd place...the controls are here,” he motioned to the switch midway down the panel. “Go ahead and climb in, and I’ll trip it for you.”

When Karl propped the cane against the wall, Craig moved to help him into the water. There were two steps down, and Karl took them slowly, but he released the sexiest groan Craig had ever heard either inside or outside of a bedroom as he settled into the water. Karl leaned slowly against the back of the tub and groaned. “Oh. My. God. This is soooo wonderful.” He slid a bit and sank further into the bubbling water, then turned heated eyes on Craig. “I absolutely adore you right now,” he said throatily.

Craig grinned and tilted his head. “You’re about to love me a bit more.” He turned to the control panel, pushing the button that retracted the shutters on the wall and ceiling, opening the tub up to the panoramic vista of the mountains and the beautiful late summer colors vivid against the robin’s egg blue sky.

Karl looked stunned, and Craig chose that very moment to flip the jets on. The athlete let out a groan of pleasure that was practically orgasmic, and he sagged into the tub, neck pillowed on the towel on the edge of the tub. “Craig, you are a GOD. Whatever you want, it’s yours,” Karl promised easily, voice throbbing with contentment and relief.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Karl,” Craig all but growled. When Karl snorted and opened his eyes, Craig hurriedly added, “I might ask for a foot massage or some such gruesome task...” He moved back to the lounge chair, pulling a pair of sunglasses off of the table nearby so that he could watch Karl without being noticed.

Karl perked up a little. “Hey, I can give a mean massage, I’ll have you know. You can’t be a top athlete for long without learning that. Of course, it comes in handy in all kinds of situations.” He chuckled and looked out into the mountains. He heard Craig settle somewhere nearby, but he was enjoying the tub far too much to wonder much about it. “So, tell me how New Zealand-born Craig Parker ended up running a women’s resort in the mountains in America.”

“The true story? Or the publicity story?” he asked, sighing as Karl shot him a grin.

“To make a long story short...bad relationship that ended even worse than the day-to-day horrors. Took my inheritance and left. After swearing away men, I just thought it’d be better to work with women.” He closed his eyes as he reclined. “Bought this resort and fixed it up...changed the format...been in business ever since.”

Karl let that information sink in, raising his good leg and stretching it out over the surface of the water, pointing his toes and just touching the other side of the tub. After a moment, a question occurred to him. “Has that worked for you? Swearing off men, I mean? Cause I’ve been giving swearing off women some serious thought lately. What a mess it’s been.” He didn’t think about how that might sound to someone else; he was remembering about how the latest in his string of girlfriends had dropped him as soon as she found out he wouldn’t be a professional athlete anymore. He scowled at the ceiling.

“Works perfectly fine as long as you keep yourself away from them,” Craig answered honestly. He admired Karl from behind the anonymity of the dark glasses. “But sometimes it only takes one to slip through your strongest defenses,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Karl nodded, agreeing, seeing how that could be a problem. “Yeah, I get that. I didn’t leave my number with anyone when I left, only my physical therapist knows I’m here. I don’t want Reese, that heinous bitch, to track me down, or anyone else. I just...” He turned his head to look at Craig, and he relaxed again, giving a smile. “Sorry. I’m not used to having someone around who’s so easy to talk to, and I barely know you. I’ll try to hold my tongue from now on.”

Craig shrugged. “You can talk to me...I don’t mind. I might not be able to offer much advice in the ways of feminine enticement and persuasion...but I can listen.” He fanned his hand in front of himself, wanting to change the subject of conversation. “These mountain summers are so hot and humid. I think I’m near to melting...”

Karl chuckled. “Well, I’d say you could cool off by jumping in the tub, but it wouldn’t work that way with the temperature up.” He paused and looked over at Craig. “You’re welcome to join me, of course. This tub is big enough for four.” He shifted a little, edging his knee away from a water jet, and pulled his arms out of the water to lay them along the back of the tub.

Craig considered for a moment. “You’re sure you don’t mind?” When Karl shook his head and gestured at the tub, Craig rose and pulled his shirt over his head as he toed his sandals off. He folded the shirt neatly and placed it on the chair, and then moved his hands to the fastenings of his trousers. They came off easily, leaving him in a pair of white boxer briefs. He blushed a little, but stepped down into the pool, brushing against Karl as he moved to the opposite side of the tub and sat down. “Still hot, but it’s a wet heat...I can stand this...” he sighed.

With a sigh, Karl dropped a hand into the water to knead the knotted muscle in his thigh, above the injured knee. “So, you just...live here and work here? Do you own the place?” He paused and looked sheepish. “If you don’t mind my asking. Since you know all about me, seems fair to ask.” He grimaced a little as the muscles started to relax, still pinching a bit about the knee, but feeling some better.

Craig saw the grimace on Karl’s face as he rubbed his leg. He slid around to sit near Karl, touching the other man’s leg tentatively. “May I?” he asked, fingers kneading gently as Karl nodded and relaxed back again.

“I’ve owned the place since I moved to America. It’s been my home ever since and I’ve not regretted a day that I’ve lived here. It’s peaceful, lucrative, enjoyable...” His voice trailed off as the feel of Karl’s muscular thigh under his fingers began to affect him.

Karl sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes, resting his arm on the back of the tub while Craig massaged the sore muscles in his leg. He idly listened until Craig stopped talking, then he opened one eye, lazily glancing to the other man. There was...the oddest look on Craig’s face, and for a long moment Karl couldn’t place it. Then it hit him - longing. Karl blinked a few times and realized Craig must be lonely. “Awful quiet up here by yourself all the time, though,” Karl murmured.

Craig tried to mask the need he knew Karl had seen in his eyes. “I wanted it like this, though. I like being alone...it’s just sometimes I remember what it was like when it was good and then I get lonely...” His grip softened on Karl’s leg as he moved his fingers lower to trace over the scars on his knee.

Karl nodded slowly and sat up a little. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He saw the slight question in Craig’s eyes. “It’s OK,” Karl said, referring to his knee, and he felt strong fingers move over it lightly. “It’s not painful to the touch anymore, although it’s tender sometimes. Hurts more inside, I guess. Pretty ugly to look at, though,” he murmured.

Craig remembered when he first saw the scars...and his own reaction to them. “They’re not ugly,” he whispered, “just surprising. I see your body and I expect total perfection...and then you have the scars...” He blushed as he realizes how that sounded. “They don’t mar the perfection,” he hurried to explain, “but they add to it...they make you REAL...” He wanted to sink under the water at the thought of how he just cocked up that explanation.

A small smile pulled at Karl as he started to understand the look in Craig’s eyes. Craig thought Karl was attractive, and the athlete was flattered and quite pleased about it. “Perfection, huh? Haven’t heard that one. Rugged, tough, perfect machine, top athlete, one to emulate, yeah...” Karl let the smile grow and warmth filled his eyes. “One of those people trades called me ‘to die for’, once, in a list of eligible bachelors.”

Craig saw the realization dawn in Karl’s eyes, and he shrank back a little. He removed his hands from Karl’s body and slid back to the other side of the small tub. “Never been called that, myself. ‘Needy’, yes. ‘Clingy’, definitely...but never ‘to die for’.”

Karl blinked a little, confused at Craig’s retreat, but he shrugged it off. “You seem quite capable and well-to-do, to me,” he said. “Own your own place, run a business, take care of yourself, takes a lot of guts.” He looked up to meet Craig’s eyes, the honesty behind his words clear. “I can appreciate that. Too many of the superstar athletes I’ve known can’t do shit for themselves.”

“Well, they’re obviously good at something or they wouldn’t be in the position they’re in.” Craig mused. He felt safer when he was at a distance. Safe from what? He frowned slightly as he pondered that, but he didn’t want to examine it too closely now. Maybe not ever. He resolved in his mind to be more businesslike with Karl. To not get so close and personal. After all, it could only end badly when he left at the end of his stay.

“Good at running, good at kicking. Good at showing off.” Karl smiled goofily. “I guess there’s some amount of strategy in it, but that’s where a coach comes in. It’s not critical for a star player to know much except exactly what he’s supposed to do and when. Coaching, now that’s something to admire.” He felt Craig withdrawing and wondered a bit at why. He guessed he was just used to the camaraderie among athletes, among the guys he’d almost always been around. He felt a little sad when it sank in that he wouldn’t have that anymore.

Craig’s frown deepened when the wave of sadness passed over Karl’s face. “There are athletic clubs in the surrounding towns if you need companionship...” he offered.

Karl frowned and then shook his head. “No, that’s not my world anymore. Better not to...get my hopes up, I guess.” He shrugged and swished his hand just under the surface of the water. “I was just thinking I’ll have to learn how to make friends again. Before, it was just easy, athletes hang out, I didn’t ever worry about it.”

Craig nodded his head in understanding. “When I came here, all of the previous staff had left except for Myra. She nursed me through this...taught me how to do it...became my friend and confidante. I understand what it’s like to leave your world behind and have to forge into a new life,” he answered idly.

His eyes slightly unfocused, Karl watched the bubbling of the water. “I’m sort of at a loss. I won’t be able to compete again, and I’ve no idea what to do with myself. I’ve been an athlete all my life. I’m not sure who I am if I’m not a footballer.” He chuckled wryly. “I suppose it’s good that I don’t have to worry about money, otherwise I’d be well fucked. I’m not trained to do much else than play football. Even my degree is in athletics. If you can call that a degree.”

Craig watched Karl as he spoke, his lips pursing and releasing as he formed his words. “Maybe you should use this time to figure out who you are,” he suggested in a quiet tone.

Karl looked up, face unguarded. “I’m not sure I even know where to start. I’ve always had people around me directing my career, making suggestions, making decisions. I’m not afraid, I just have no idea...” he laughed a little oddly. “I used to lie in bed at night and dream of all the things I would do if I didn’t have to practice every day, if I didn’t have to play every other day, if I didn’t have to go here and there. And now? Now I can’t remember a single one of those things.”

Craig smiled. “You’re welcome to do whatever you want to do while you’re here. You can use the computer in my office if you’re bored or want to research...you can use my Jeep. It’s an automatic...so should be easy on your leg.” He began to get a little excited. “There’s a little tourist town down the road...Gatlinburg...lots of shopping and touristy things to do and there are pretty good sized crowds, so we can blend in with disguises as simple as hats and dark glasses.” Then Craig’s excitement dampened a little. “Unless you don’t want to go out. Or you want to go out alone. I can make recommendations...”

Karl smiled, looking more cheerful. “Hey, that sounds great. Though I won’t be able to do much too soon. Just gotta take it easy on the knee,” he said. “And I doubt I need a disguise. Honestly, who here will recognize me?” He nodded encouragingly to Craig, quite relieved to be offered some company. The thought of four weeks mostly alone seemed very daunting.

Craig moved back over to Karl’s side of the tub, sinking low in the water as he pointed out to the horizon. “See those mountains? Those are the Smokies. They’re the main attraction of the most visited national park in the nation...I should take you there. There’s a lot of riding involved, and when you feel up to it, I can take the top off of my jeep and we can go.”

Karl’s smile grew with anticipation. “That would be great. When I could get away in the off season, I liked to go biking and backpacking in the mountains. Can’t do that much now, but maybe something to work toward,” he mused. Then he frowned. “Can you take that kind of time off just to amuse me? I mean, if I can borrow the jeep, I could probably find town. But I don’t have an American license.”

“One of the perks to being the boss,” Craig grinned. “Taking time do what I want, visit with who I want. Having an extremely capable assistant makes it all possible.” He rose from the tub, reaching for a robe and using it to pat his face before pulling it on. When he reached down to tie the sash, he blushed wildly. His boxers were transparent. “Oh God...”

Karl watched as Craig climbed out of the tub, not really noticing anything until the other man jerked his robe shut, and then he saw what Craig was covering. Unperturbed - after all, he used to shower with 30 naked men a day - Karl just raised an eyebrow, and his lips puckered a bit as he tried to hold back a grin. “Don’t worry about it, yeah?” Karl said quietly as he pressed his body out of the tub with just his arms, sitting on the tub edge, legs still in the water. Being over warm, the scars stood out an angry red against pink skin.

Craig couldn’t help himself. He moved closer, kneeling next to Karl and reaching tentative fingers closer. When Karl made no move to shoo him away, his fingers barely touched the angry red lines on Karl’s knee. “Do they hurt?” he whispered, tracing them gently.

Karl shook his head. “Not so much now. The incisions are pretty much healed. Hurts still when I do therapy. Everything healing up, and I have to keep it all moving so scar tissue doesn’t build up. So it’s always sore. But I’m told it gets better.” He gazed down at Craig, noticing that he was actually quite a good-looking man. He sighed inwardly. Out of your lane, Urban. You have no clue what you’re even considering thinking about.

Craig glanced up, catching Karl looking at him. He’s struck by the way the sun strikes those hazel eyes, making them burn with intensity. “Would you have dinner with me tonight, Karl?” he asked, nervous at asking an obviously straight man to dinner. “I mean - I have a big screen in my suite, and we can watch a movie or something...”

Karl blinked down at Craig. Could it really be that easy? To just...ask another man to dinner? To say yes? He smiled when Craig backpedals a little, and then he nodded, raising a hand to touch the back of Craig’s hand on his knee. “Dinner sounds great.” And surprisingly (or maybe not), it really DID sound great to him. Even if it was just a meal and a movie. But maybe he could think about the chance of something more, since Craig at least seemed interested.

“Great,” Craig smiled at Karl, his heart pounding in excitement. “Seven okay with you?” His mind was already whirring with details for how to make Karl want to be with him again.

Karl chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve not exactly got a busy social calendar to check, you know.” He slid his fingers over the back of Craig’s hand, just as a test, just to see...and there was nothing inside him that warned him off or made him feel awkward. Just a sense of...anticipation. Maybe this was a terrible thing he was thinking of, of starting an affair with someone he barely knew, a man on top of that...he looked over Craig’s face again. But he felt comfortable with him. It didn’t have to be an affair. It could be a friendship. It could be...something.

“Seven’s great,” he murmured.

Craig’s hand turned under Karl’s, fingers closing over Karl’s. He held Karl’s gaze for several long moments. “Seven,” he whispered.

A tingle spread from his fingers to his hand and to his chest. Karl swallowed hard and nodded, eyes caught in Craig’s gaze. “Seven,” he answered, wondering when his heart started beating so hard.

Craig found himself being pulled closer as if by an invisible tether. He could feel the residual heat that radiated off of Karl’s skin, and his eyes dropped to Karl’s full lips as he whispered again, “Seven...”

Karl snapped out of the moment when the hot tub shut off, timer exhausted. He looked down at the now-still water, then back at Craig. He realized he had quite a bit of thinking to do this afternoon. “I’m knackered...due for a nap, I guess, if I’m to make it through a movie tonight,” Karl said casually, not really sure how to act. He told himself just to be...himself. But the more he thought about that, he just wasn’t sure exactly who he was anymore.

Yeah. Lots more thinking needed.

Craig pulled away, cursing himself for almost - what was he almost going to do? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.” He handed Karl a robe as the other man labored to his feet.

When Karl was wrapped in the robe, Craig handed him his cane. He beat a retreat as soon as seemingly possible. “Later.”

“Later,” Karl echoed as Craig seemed to flee the room, and he wondered what he could have done differently. Or had he done fine? He sighed. He hobbled back to his room. After a bathroom stop and carefully setting the alarm, he crashed for a nap. Before falling asleep, he thought of strong hands and bright eyes, and if being with a man was any different than being with a woman.

*****

THE END

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