A Cruise for Two

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ian and Quinn cruise to St. Thomas.
Series: Academic Arcadia -- 1) Wedding Gifts 2) A Symposium on Love 3) Dinner and a Movie 4) Please Call First 5) Masquerade 6) A Change of Clime 7) Christmas in Williamsburg 8) A Paduan New Year's Eve 9) Flux 10) Ki of Tranquility 11) A Rescindable Honor 12) An Honor Conferred 13) Outmaneuvered 14) Valentines by Design 15) Mastery 16) A Walk in the Park 17) The Man of the Moment 18) St. Patrick's Play 19) Avocation 20) Sustenance 21) A Cruise for Two
Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
To Alex, my friend and beta

"Summer vacation will begin soon." Quinn looked up from his PDA with a grin.

"We're lucky to start it together this semester. Last year we had different schedules." Ian slouched at his desk. Office hours were almost over, and he was more than ready to go home.

"Any ideas on where to go?" Quinn asked.

Ian answered with a question. "Have you ever been on a cruise?"

Quinn said, "Yes, with my family a few years ago. What about you?"

"No, but I've always wanted to." Ian's wistful expression matched his words.

Quinn said decisively, "Well, that settles it. Where would you like to go?"

"St. Thomas. My parents took us to a resort there when I was ten, and I loved it," said Ian.

"Sounds wonderful."

"My mom can get us a great deal. She's always booked our family vacations."

"Ah, the advantages of a mother who's a librarian." Quinn knew well how lucky he was to have Jo as a de facto mother-in-law.

Although Jo had surprised them by sending brochures on traditional and gay cruises, both Ian and Quinn felt more at ease in an eclectic environment.

When Quinn had told Aunt Beryl about the vacation, her gleaming eyes showed him that she thought it was a singles cruise and heartily approved. While Quinn was not comfortable with the inadvertent misdirection, he accepted it as the gift it was.

After some debate, Ian and Quinn decided on the Princess line's new flagship, Leah. Since Luke and Leah's unions were fraternal organizations, the men received a hefty discount.

So there they were in Fort Lauderdale on a breezy Sunday afternoon. The two crossed the gangplank to the click of their picture being taken, and set off to explore the ship. Adrenalin coursed through them as they strode the corridors of their temporary home.

Their cabin turned out to be as far from the elevators as they could get, but that was a good thing, given the amount of exercise they'd have to do in order to indulge in the delicious cuisine. It had two beds that were currently perpendicular, two small nightstands, a desk, and a TV. The closets were built into the walls leading to the tiny bathroom.

Ian opened the exterior door, and found a balcony for two, with deck chairs and table. He left the door ajar, and pulled back the curtains so they could see the port. Quinn and Ian wanted a full view of their departure.

The ship's bells rang for the lifeboat drill, and all aboard mustered for the safety lectures. The men carried their lifejackets, Quinn's height letting him avoid dragging the straps on the floor, while Ian had them dangling over his arms.

After the muster, they returned to their cabin for a private sailaway celebration. The men moved the beds together, and lay down on them; they wouldn't be seen on this sunny day.

Relaxing into each other's arms, the two felt the unaccustomed ridge on the edge of the mattresses between them.

"At least it isn't just us; all the beds are singles that can be converted to doubles." Quinn's feet danced along another edge at the foot of the bed.

"Not a problem, love. I'm more interested in the feel of you than in the mattress." Ian snugged more cozily into Quinn's chest.

"Are you, now?" Quinn looked into Ian's sea-green eyes, and pulled him up for a kiss.

While they kissed, the men felt the hum of the engines under them as the ship began to move.

"Good vibrations," Quinn rumbled over the thrumming.

"All this from just a kiss?" Ian asked with a straight face.

"Only when it's from you, lad," Quinn said, sincerity barely besting jocularity in his delivery.

Still entwined, the two sat up against the pillows to watch the port drift by slowly. They saw people waving at them from high-rises near the mouth of the harbor. This was the best part of any holiday: anticipation at all the pleasure yet to come.

Quinn and Ian watched in fascination as the ship picked up speed when it reached the open sea. They got used to the slight roll as the bow broke the waves. After a few moments of enjoying the oncoming rush of sea and sky, the men resumed their kisses.

Though Quinn's shorts were almost to the knees, they still left a vast expanse to explore, and so Ian did, running his hands appreciatively over skin usually hidden from view. The little hairs on Quinn's calves tickled Ian's palms as he stroked Quinn firmly, occasionally coming up for a kiss. Quinn's quiet sighs increased in frequency when Ian delved under the cuffs to pet tense thighs.

Quinn captured Ian's mouth in a deep kiss, and Ian's hand in his own, through the cotton. "You're in the mood to burrow, lad," he said rather hoarsely.

"You never know what treasure I might find," Ian said, the low burr of his ancestors enriching the words in his passion.

"Let's look together."

Ian and Quinn moved the beds back into perpendicular position, then showered before dinner, dressing in Dockers and polo shirts. There was only one formal night on the vacation, for which they were renting tuxedos, sans ruffled shirts and cummerbunds.

Dining arrangements had changed since Quinn's last cruise. There was a new flexibility; instead of having assigned seating with the same tablemates throughout the voyage, passengers could be seated on a first come, first serve basis, as in a restaurant. Tables for two up to twelve were available.

Quinn's smile acquired a slightly leonine aspect; dinner for two trumped small talk with strangers any day. He'd come on this cruise with the knowledge that if they were to enjoy themselves, Ian and he would have to leave their inhibitions in New York, just as they had at Williamsburg. True, a cruise was a more intimate vacation for two men together than their historic jaunt, what with swimsuits and steamrooms; it was hard to come to anything but the correct conclusion about their status. However, no one knew them here a thousand miles and more away from home; it was time to claim the freedom couples of every kind should have to be together without worry.

Ian gave him an imperceptible nod when the maitre d' came up to them.

"Table for two," Quinn said firmly.

They were given a table by one of the huge windows looking out to sea. At 7 pm, the sun flooded the sea with light.

The waiter handed them menus with a flourish, and took their wine order. A quick scan of the offerings revealed the delights of cruise cuisine: escargots, gorgonzola and cranberry salad, beef Wellington. And that's exactly what they chose for dinner.

Ian and Quinn looked at the Renaissance reproductions on the walls, as well as the people surrounding their table. To their considerable relief, they noticed others like themselves: two women or men enjoying their meals, the same as everyone else around them. Something inside them eased at this recognition; they were still overcoming the diffidence of their solitary past, and the very openness of the couples heartened them.

"The brochure mentioned fencing classes. Are you interested in going with me?" Ian asked.

"I'd like that," Quinn said. "Let's visit the gym tomorrow; we should work out at least once a day with all of the temptations here."

"Good idea. I'd also like to run before breakfast. They've got a track on the Windward Deck." Ian sipped his water.

Quinn asked, "Do you know what's scheduled for tonight?"

"Yes. There's a floor show at 9 pm, a comedian at 10, and late-night jazz in Skywalker's Nightclub."

"Seems they've saved the best for last, lad."

Ian nodded. "Let's try all three, though. Okay?"

"Sure. Might as well check out all the entertainment."

They left the dining room at 8:45 after a leisurely meal, and headed over to the theater for the show. It turned out to be a medley of Broadway song and dance, well performed by a young and winsome cast. Though it wasn't particularly to their taste, the men enjoyed the energy and talent on display.

The comedian was in one of the mid-deck lounges, and they sipped banana daiquiris while listening to cruise humor about vacuum toilets and cramped staterooms. The daiquiris were the high point of that event.

When they settled in for the jazz at Skywalker's, the entertainment really began. The club was located in the stern of the ship on Deck 17. Planets and stars decorated the carpets, while loveseats and glass 'n' brass tables were spaced out over the multi-level room. The view from the observation windows was the best on the ship.

Ian and Quinn chose a loveseat in an isolated alcove that showed the expanse of the night ocean. Here they ordered decaf lattes, and sat back to absorb the jazz.

The four-piece band played on through the night, stream of consciousness riffs that encouraged low conversation. Quinn and Ian stayed for an hour, then headed back to their stateroom.

The beds had been turned down by their steward, and they pushed them back together for the night. The two unpacked quickly and got ready for bed.

"Enjoying yourself?" Quinn asked, gathering Ian into his arms.

"Yes, very much. This semester was a hard one, and a bit of relaxation is just what we needed."

"Do you need anything else?" Quinn asked with a crooked grin.

"Oh, yes," Ian answered, and proceeded to show Quinn exactly what was required.

Quinn and Ian woke up at 8 am, refreshed by sleep and the sea air coming in through the balcony door. Dressing in t-shirts and shorts, the professors went to the Windward Deck for their run. After twenty minutes pounding the track, they came back to the cabin for a shower.

Unfortunately, the shower stall was even smaller than the standard size, so the two couldn't wash together, but they still had swimming with each other to look forward to. At least the men made it to breakfast earlier than they would have otherwise.

Breakfast was not a meal that appealed to either man especially. The usual fare of eggs, pancakes, and sausages was heavy and boring, so they went with fresh fruit compote and smoked salmon. Undereating was not something the two had to worry about on a cruise.

After the meal, Ian and Quinn relaxed on the Lido Deck, calypso music playing in the background. A few bikini-clad lovelies tried to catch their eye, but they pretended to nap to deflect the attention.

The two headed over to the gym at 11 am for their fencing class. Wearing masks and using blunted foils, the men practiced feinting, lunging, and slashing with their weapons. They excelled at the sport, to neither's surprise. Quinn and Ian had come to expect excellence in their physical training with one another; they'd already mastered aikido, which literally provided the groundwork for their other endeavors.

They changed into their trunks after the lesson, and went to the Lido Deck pool. Since it was lunch hour, the crowds were less, leaving them room to swim. Their arms and legs occasionally brushed as they powered through the pool, the touches thrilling into them in this public place, so innocuous, so erotic. The water felt wonderful after their fencing workout, cool and refreshing.

Quinn and Ian had a lovely seafood lunch on deck, then did a little duty-free shopping. Two boxes of Glenfiddich later, they decided to see the day's movie: Moulin Rouge. Quinn marveled at the exuberance of Christian, the young male lead, as he sang and danced his way through the film. Quinn hardly believed himself fortunate enough to love and be loved by the magnificent man beside him.

Since they were on a British ship, high tea at 4 pm was next on their agenda. They changed into their Dockers first; shorts were not acceptable for this fancy service. It took place in the dining room, with white-gloved waiters, a pianist, and an elaborate presentation of dainties.

Ian and Quinn were reminded of their tea at the Williamsburg Inn, but this time with a greater selection of teas and treats. The scones were particularly good, though they refused the cream and marmalades that accompanied them.

The men sat back and savored their food as the music surrounded them, a soothing atmosphere quite different from the activities on the rest of the ship. They stayed for forty-five minutes, then went to their stateroom for a nap.

Moving the beds together again, they tumbled onto them. Ian pulled Quinn to him with delight. "Now this is a vacation!" Ian nuzzled along the slight scruff at Quinn's chin. "It'll be a shame to see this go," he said, referring to Quinn's upcoming shave for formal night.

Quinn said, "We'd best enjoy it now, lad."

Ian heartily agreed, and they did so until they fell asleep, plastered together satisfyingly. The two woke about an hour later, grinning into one another's eyes. Each wanted the other to rest while taking the first shower, but Quinn's yawn won the day for Ian, and he shaved and washed first.

They allotted more time for dressing in their rented tuxedos than they ordinarily would for changing. Quinn polished both pairs of shoes, while Ian took his shamrock off the keyring, and used it as a tack for his white bowtie.

"I'm the luckiest man on board; I've got you by my side." Ian's hands glided over Quinn's starched white shirt.

"You'll have to share those honors with me, lad," said Quinn, dusting his hair with kisses.

They walked to the multi-level atrium, where they saw hundreds of fellow passengers in their finery. Photographers were at the ready to take pictures of people with the captain or in family groups.

Ian and Quinn exchanged a look, and decided to go for it. The happy smiles on their faces made them even more handsome, and they cherished the photo for years as their first official portrait.

The cocktail party included free drinks and hors d'oeuvres, so the men had Bahama Mamas and caviar. They circulated around the atrium, listening to the pianist until it was time for dinner.

The dining staff had outdone themselves for that night's meal. The room was a fantasy of green and blue, the cool sea colors used for tablecloths, floral centerpieces, and balloons.

The maitre d' recognized Quinn and Ian, and seated them at the same table they'd had the night before, a good thing since they'd enjoyed the scenery from that vantage point.

When the shrimp cocktail came, the men were discussing the night's diversions. The flamenco guitarist Reefito would play, alongside dancers dressed as caballeros and senoritas.

Quinn said, "I grew up listening to Segovia, but I've never attended a performance before."

"This is finer entertainment than we expected." Ian was delighted by Quinn's enthusiasm.

Their steamed crabs arrived, with lime-tamarind sauce on the side. A lull in the conversation ensued. After a few moments, Quinn's curiosity overcame his hunger.

"What's at Skywalker's tonight?"

Ian said, "It's a Fifties retrospective. Any interest?"

"No, not really." A sock hop didn't sound appealing, especially since they wouldn't be dancing.

Ian nodded in agreement. "Let's just go to the deck party and the midnight buffet."

"Sounds good."

Baked Alaska was next, a popular cruise dessert because of the impressiveness of being served flambe. The waiters paraded around the tables, distributing the ice cream to eager diners.

When Quinn and Ian finished eating, they walked to the theater and got center row seats for the guitarist's performance. Reefito was excellent, his fingers nimble and flowing over the frets; the dancers were all graceful swirls and castanets.

After the show, the men changed into shorts, and went to the Lido Deck for the calypso party. Belafonte, steel drums, and sheer exuberance made for a memorable night under the stars. Ian and Quinn found themselves stomping their feet and clapping with the rest, drawn irresistibly into exhilaration.

Ian entered the limbo contest, much to Quinn's private satisfaction. The moves he made to slide under the progressively lowering horizontal bar were truly inspirational. Ian's gymnastic flexibility won the day, as he shimmied under the bar when it was only a foot off the deck. Quinn saw others noting Ian's prowess, but they also noticed his prompt return to Quinn's side.

Back in their cabin, Ian presented Quinn with the miniature pewter parrot he had won, laughing as Quinn attached it to his keychain. Still bouncing from the party, they put on slacks for the midnight buffet and headed out the door.

The two made it to the dining room early, knowing it got crowded fast. Ice sculptures of dolphins and fish sat on tables where every square inch was covered with delicacies. Quinn and Ian zeroed in on la creme de la creme: lobster tails, oysters Rockefeller, and rum cake.

They chose their own table now, and went to the other side of the dining room for a different view. More and more people came pouring in, but the men were finished by the time it grew too hectic.

Ian and Quinn walked back to their cabin happy and replete. The cruise was exceeding their expectations, and they'd been high. The men were too exhausted for anything but sleep, so they curled up together in a contented heap, and blissfully snored away.

Quinn woke in the middle of the night, expecting to see his familiar bedroom at home, but instead saw the cabin. As frequently happened, Ian awakened too, linked as they were by an inner synchronicity.

"Are you okay, love?" Ian asked, rubbing Quinn's chest with tired fingers.

"Yes, lad. I don't think I can get back to sleep for a while, though." Quinn's tongue found the crease in Ian's forehead.

"Whatever shall we do about that?" Ian drawled, then kissed him passionately.

"Anything..." Quinn sighed, all teasing evaporated by Ian's demanding kiss.

The next morning the men pushed the beds apart, and ordered room service for breakfast. Since the ship was nearing port in Charlotte Amalie, the two decided to sit on their private balcony to watch the docking process and eat.

They sat side by side, their sneakered feet on the table, feeling the warm breeze ruffle their hair. An occasional sip of pineapple juice was followed by the tang of apricot, all they needed for their meal.

Aqua sea, sugar-sand beaches, bleached white buildings with colorful roofs: they'd arrived at St. Thomas. Quinn and Ian sat on their balcony until it was time to disembark.

They passed through the gauntlet of shops by the quay, and headed for the beach. The men rented an enormous umbrella, and put their towels and duffel under its parti-colored shelter.

A few yards from them, four people were playing volleyball. They strolled over, hoping for an invitation to join in, and were welcomed. Ian and Quinn took different sides to equalize the field, and set to it. The power of Quinn's serve was astonishing, but he quickly moderated it; after all, this was a friendly game. He couldn't resist a little spiking over the net, cheerfully answered by Ian, arms at full extension.

They played for about half an hour, then ran to the ocean to cool off. Since it was calm, the two swam and played in the water. Beach balls, frisbees, and paddleboards bobbed on the surface, dotting color onto an aqua background.

Ian and Quinn tossed an oversized ball to one another, knee deep in the water. Laughing and hooting, they batted it back and forth until they smelled something delicious on the beach.

The cookout had started. The men dried quickly, and filled trays with grilled burgers and planters' punch. They took the food under their umbrella, and sat cross-legged on the sand, munching happily.

"Could this be any more enjoyable?" Ian asked, contentment radiating off him.

Quinn smiled into his eyes. "Only if this were our own private beach, lad."

"Well, when we've won the lottery..."

"I feel like we have, Ian." Quinn patted his knee, intimacy cloaked in friendship.

"Now that you mention it, so do I."

The two relaxed on their towels under the umbrella for a while, then went swimming once more. They found a forest green raft for two, and tried to climb aboard. Shouting and splashing, the men scrambled to hoist their legs on top, eventually getting the hang of it by having Quinn clamber on first and hold it steady for Ian to mount. They started paddling with their arms and kept the raft going in almost straight lines across the bay.

After a couple of round trips, Quinn and Ian dove off the raft, and Quinn, without thinking, surfaced with a squirming armful of Ian. In for a penny, in for a pound, he brushed a quick kiss across wet lips and reluctantly let him go.

The men had seen signs for snorkel equipment rental when they'd arrived, and decided to try it. There was a lesson starting in a few minutes, so they joined the group. An hour later, Ian and Quinn were ready to strike out on their own.

They swam to the deepest part of the bay, and visited a world usually hidden from view. The sheer variety was overwhelming: vibrant blues and greens of subtly different hue; fish every color of the rainbow; water so clear and clean that the men could see to the bottom.

Quinn picked up a piece of driftwood as a souvenir, and they examined it when they went ashore. There was faded writing on it that looked like 'Gunga'.

"I wonder what that means," Quinn mused. "Could it have something to do with Kipling?"

"Perhaps. It might be the name of a ship." Ian ran his hand over the letters, fascinated.

"Let's keep it on the teak bookcase."

They brought back the equipment, and continued swimming and beachcombing until they heard the ship's whistle, which signaled its impending departure. The men boarded then, flush with sun and sand. After all that skin on display with hardly a touch for hours, their iron self-control was stretched to its limit, so they took quick showers and made straight for bed.

Quinn's excess of enthusiasm showed when his relentless onslaught forced the beds apart under a very eager Ian, who was left alternately laughing and panting in the gap. Regrouping was clearly in order: they got up, still chortling, and put the beds back together. Ian dove for the nearer bed, and they picked up where they'd left off, this time mindful of the line of demarcation.

When they'd taken the edge off, Quinn's leisurely mouth explored the territory denied him all day, much to Ian's delight. After Ian returned the favor, they fell asleep, exhausted by their athletics in and out of bed.

Washed and dressed in fresh Dockers, they went to dinner, thirsty and ravenous. The ship was leaving port when they arrived, and they had a good view of the receding town from their table.

That night Quinn and Ian chose hearty fare: clams stuffed with crabmeat, seafood risotto, and banana cake. They sat back in their chairs and ate slowly, savoring every bite. The two talked less than usual, still tired from their exertions.

"Anything worth staying up for tonight, lad?" asked Quinn.

Ian yawned. "Luckily, no. The show looks good, but there's nothing of interest in the lounges."

"Good timing."

They had espressos in hopes of staying awake longer, and headed over to the theater. The high-wattage performance was even more effective than the caffeine, this time a tribute to Cole Porter. They were both humming as they left their seats.

Instead of their initial plan to go back to the stateroom, the men found they now had the energy to take advantage of the ship's nightlife. One of the out-of-the-way lounges had no one inside, but it did have a dance floor and Stormy Weather playing on the sound system.

Quinn held out his hand to Ian, who surged into his arms with a kiss. They started moving to the music, Quinn's chin on Ian's curls, Ian's face pressed into Quinn's chest. Their arms tightened about one another as they eased deeper into the dance, their swaying intensified by the slight rocking of the ship.

When the song ended, Ian and Quinn shared a kiss infused with their passion for each other. Reluctant to disentangle, they settled for brushing arms on the way back to the cabin.

The men had no time for niceties after the stimulation of the dance, and threw their clothes off haphazardly. They jumped on one of the beds, lacking the patience even to join them now. Since Ian was currently engaged in climbing up to Quinn's chest, with various stops along the way, the extra width was unnecessary anyway.

Overwhelmed by sensation, the men yielded to the inevitable, though they tried to make it last. Thoroughly exhausted now, ten hours of sleep sounded good to them.

They woke up to the sight of endless ocean. This was an at-sea day, since they weren't due into Fort Lauderdale until the morrow.

The gym beckoned before breakfast: free weights and push-ups their primary focus. After forty-five minutes, the men rinsed off in the locker room, and headed for the jacuzzi. Unfortunately, they had to share it with another couple, but at least there was still room to sprawl.

Quinn and Ian decided on the Lido Deck buffet for breakfast, heaping their plates with mango, papaya, and raspberries. Placing yogurt and orange juice on their trays, they found a table on the starboard side of the deck.

While they ate, the men looked at the ocean, hoping to see fish breaching the surface. Nothing was visible, so the two bussed their trays and started strolling the deck until they came to the entrance nearest the library.

Ian and Quinn soon had fresh books to take out to the Lido Deck loungers. It was nice to be able to look up from the page and see the variegated ocean, with its currents and waves lapping at the hull. Resurfacing a couple of hours later, they played chess until it was time for their fencing class to begin.

Becoming more proficient by the moment, the men saw the instructor staring at them in amazement as their foils flashed with speed and grace.

"You say this is your second class?" the man said when they were through, his jaw almost dropping.

Quinn's face was hidden by his towel, but the ever-polite Ian answered, "That it is," as they headed to the showers.

Lunch consisted of goat cheese pizza and tangerine juice, which they brought up to Skywalker's on trays. During the day, it was all but deserted, which was exactly what they were looking for on the crowded ship.

After they finished eating, their loveseat earned the name, as they slid closer together, Ian's head on Quinn's shoulder. Hidden from view thanks to the steps, the two relaxed, looking out at the ever-changing ocean and talking quietly.

"Are you ready to go home tomorrow, love?" Ian asked, absently playing with a thread on Quinn's sleeve.

Quinn said, "Yes. It's easy to overeat here, and I miss our king-size bed."

"Me too, but I've enjoyed the holiday."

"It's lovely. When I was with my family, we spent most of the time playing dominoes on deck. These past few days have held a little more variety than that."

"Well, it helps that I've a bit more flexibility than your average 70-year-old maiden aunt," Ian said with a chuckle.

The men dozed on the loveseat for a while, then headed to the atrium gallery to look for their photos. They bought some 8 x 10s, as Quinn thought wryly, 'What's a few more things to hide from Aunt Beryl?'

Ian and Quinn brought the pictures back to the cabin, then changed into their swimsuits. They went to the pool on the Lido Deck, Quinn sitting on the side, while Ian got them guava juice.

A blond young man came to sit beside Quinn, who ignored him until he spoke quietly, demanding attention. "I've seen you two before," he said, indicating Ian with a wave of his hand. "Are you together?"

Fortunately, no one was near enough to hear the man's soft words, but the reserved Quinn was nonetheless aghast at his aggressiveness. "I'm sorry, sir, but that's not your concern."

At this, the man realized his gaffe and retrenched. "My apologies. I thought there was no harm in asking. I'd hoped you might be available." He sprang up and walked away quickly.

Ian returned with the juice, watching the man's back with a frown. "What was that about?"

"I'll tell you later."

As soon as they'd finished the juice, the two went back to the stateroom. Quinn immediately told Ian the whole story, expecting him to be upset, but Ian was quite mature for a lad of twenty-five.

"All I can say is that he has good taste, and took 'no' for an answer gracefully." Ian kissed Quinn possessively. "You know, this is the first time someone has hit on you since we've been together."

"Somehow I didn't expect it. Hard to believe people are so forward." Quinn's fastidiousness came shining through.

Ian grinned, genuinely amused now, rather than annoyed at the situation. "It's a cruise, Quinn, not high tea with the Queen."

"Ah, lad, you're a sensible one, and no mistake." Quinn ruffled Ian's hair for emphasis.

"You should have seen your face, though! You looked like one of those thunderheads we saw last night after dinner." Ian started to chuckle. "I actually felt sorry for the guy. That's when you know it's truly nothing."

Relieved at Ian's understanding, Quinn returned the kiss in kind, somehow conveying that his lips would never touch another's. Quinn said it in words anyway, wanting no doubts. "I'm yours, Ian, now and forever." He peeled off their trunks, and proceeded to prove it.

Much later, Ian laughed and said, "I owe that guy a 'thank you'. This really got you going."

Quinn smiled. "You underestimate yourself, lad. You're all it takes to do that."

Ian kissed him soundly. "And now, we have to get going. Dinner's in half an hour, and we've yet to shower and dress."

The two made it to the dining room with five minutes to spare, and were seated at 'their' table again. By now, they were familiar with some of the waiters and exchanged pleasantries with them.

The men ordered petit filets and wild rice that night, served with a rich cabernet sauce that complemented their wine. They lingered over the meal, knowing that the show started at 9 pm.

Quinn and Ian passed through the casino on the way to the theater, completely untempted by the flashing lights and gaudiness of the room. They noted in disbelief that every seat was taken for the slot machines.

The theater was packed too, but they managed to find seats together in the mezzanine. The show had a British theme, so brollies and wellies were the order of the day. It was all a lot of Pythonesque hilarity. No wonder a comedian wasn't scheduled to perform that night; there was humor to spare in the main show.

When Ian and Quinn got back to the stateroom, they packed their luggage and put it outside for the porters. The two pushed the beds together, then washed and undressed for the night.

"There's something about making love on the ocean." Ian sighed happily as Quinn's hands made waves that cascaded through him.

"Would you like a waterbed, lad?" Quinn clearly believed in both verbal and non-verbal teasing.

"Ahh, no, we get sweaty enough already without a leaky mattress to contend with." Ian was amazed he could still utter a complete sentence.

"Good, because I like the bed we've broken in just fine." Quinn's expression was charmingly self-satisfied.

"This'll do for now," Ian said, and Quinn could do nothing but agree.

By the time they'd awakened, the ship had made port. The men ate breakfast on the Lido Deck, then settled in to wait for disembarcation.

Since they had green tags, the wait was only fifteen minutes before they could leave the ship. When the two stepped on land, they felt the sensation of ship's motion at first, but that disappeared almost immediately.

Later, as Quinn drove their rental car on I-95, Ian spoke for both of them when he asked, "So when's our next cruise?"

Quinn jauntily replied, "Not soon enough, lad, not soon enough."

end.