The blue hull of the jet ski gleamed in the sun. Samir's skin, amber and wet, also shone under the sun while the muscles of his arms flexed to guide the vehicle. From the point of the yacht where he was, Cristian had seen it moving away quickly until it became a distant dot, he had heard the roar of the engine and the screams of Samir and Sayid as they competed in an improvised race.Samir had returned to the boat and, judging by the disgruntled expression on Sayid's face, it was the boxer who had won the competition.

"How fast will they go?" Marc asked, sat next to him. Marina didn't come. "100 kilometers per hour?"

"Maybe 70 or 80," Cristian replied. He couldn't take his eyes off of the boxer, of his arms, of his abs. They were exactly like he imagined them since the first encounter in that Italian night club. Fuck, he should have stopped to look at him. When Samir had invited him in Mallorca Cristian didn't think he would en on Samir's yacht near the coast.

Samir had come up on bridge to reunite with his guests. The jet ski ride had done him good, thanks to it he pushed away a feeling of sadness and irritation that had caught him in the morning. He had begun to think about how close Tunisia was and how far, instead, it seemed to him when he was only a child and had moved to Spain with his father.

"So, you like the yacht so far?" he asked Cristian. Cristian was handsome, Samir thought. The naivety with which he looked at him was beautiful, it was beautiful the way he believed to be subtle enough for Samir not to notice how often his eyes laid on his body. And then there was the barely visible blush that surfaced on his tanned cheeks every time he met his gaze.

"Did you like looking at Sayid and me on the jet ski before?" Samir asked, looking into Cristian's hazel eyes.

"You were good, once I tried to get on a jet ski, but it was a half disaster."

"If you like, I'll teach you some techniques to tame it and ride it better." Samir winked. He saw him blush, just as he liked it. He also saw Marc frowning, perhaps curious, perhaps annoyed. Arturo, however, was grinning.

Cristian felt his face on fire. He would gladly tame and ride Samir and even more willingly let himself be tamed by him. Could Samir see those thoughts on his face? he wondered, avoiding Samir's black eyes that seemed to dig into him. He was grateful to Sayid when he arrived soon afterwards to join them and to unknowingly get him out of embarrassment.That night they all went to a restaurant. It was a delicious place. To enter the building Cristian and the others had passed through a laurel arch and, inside, there was a wall covered with a cascade of bougainvillea with purple and magenta shades. They had taken their seats at a table right next to the flowers.

The smell of grilled fish, a local specialty, hung in the air, and Cristian had the feeling that all those scents made his head spin. Or, perhaps, it was only Samir's fault, who sat across from him.It was weird to think that since they met on the yatch they had never being alone. Cristian didn't expect to meet him again, but there he was with his attractive face that caused butterflies in his stomach. They chatted for a bit, then Arturo asked Samir how he and Sayid met.

"In Belgium. We bumped into each other in a mini market and realized we both spoke Arabic so..."

"It went downhill from there" Sayid joked.

Cristian found the courage to address Samir. "How did you end up in Belgium?"

"It's a long story" Samir replied, a glass full of wine in his hand.

"We have time" Cristian said, with a defiant look on his face.

"OK. Long story short, my father, Masood, moved to Spain with me. I was seven years old, my mother stayed in Tunisia to take care of my sister, Ines. In Spain Masood opened a boxing gym using almost all his savings, he was fixated on the idea to find a talented young boxer, a champion who could have changed his life. We stayed there seven years," Samir took a sip from his glass. "The only good thing for me was to learn another language."

At that point Marc called the waiter, he needed some bread and, in his opinion, the oil cruet also needed to be refilled. Cristian was irritated by the interruption.

"And after Spain?" he pressed Samir to talk again.

He did it. "At 14 I followed him in Belgium, Masood wanted me to follow him everywhere, but at the same time he forbade me to try boxing. In Belgium we stayed four years, then Masood found a champion, or rather, he believed he found a champion and started traveling with him to accompany him to his matches, I followed him as an assistant. "One day I had an altercation with his protegee just after his match in Amsterdam, which ended badly for him. I guess we were both nervous for different reasons," Samir remembered.

Cristian imagined, however, that the reason was the same: they both wanted to win Masood's attention, but he kept that thought to himself.

Samir continued: "Another coach saw me and told me that he didn't understand why Masood trained that guy while I was a thousand times better in perspective. It gave me a chance to prove myself in boxing. From that day on he became my coach and today also my manager." Now Samir, thirty years old, could say that he had gained fame and success, everything that Masood had always wanted for someone else.

"What about your father?" Marc asked.

"We aren't in touch anymore," Samir replied softly, but Cristian didn't miss the shadow that darkened his gaze. It was there, he didn't imagine it nor was he projecting on Samir the resentments he felt towards his own father.

They chatted some more and then went to a night club. Cristian was mesmerized by Samir, by the way he moved. According to the Internet Samir had a girlfriend, but according to the way he was dancing with a clinging girl he was more than single. There was something about that man that attracted him, like a puzzle that needed to be solved. Cristian had fun, but he didn't bring any girl to the yacht with him. His friend Marc on the other hand stumbled on his feet, clearly drunk. Cristian rarely, if not ever, had seen him in that state.

"Where did you find the time to drink like that?" he asked, half joking half worried.

"Haven't you seen me? Don't you like to look at me while I dance?" Marc slurred.

Arturo was ready to put a hand on his mouth. "He definitely drank too much," Arturo said and took Marc away to their cabin.

Cristian instead found himself unable to sleep. The loud music ringed in his ears. It was like he could still smell the dancers's sweat and perfume and see the colorful lights pulsing on the dance floor. He didn't went to his cabin. He inspired the brackish air to relax himself, to get rid of the sense of electricity he felt under his skin. He felt the cold wet wooden floor under his feet, but he kept walking. He chose a spot where he thought he could watch the night sky. He loved the stars. He tried to find Vega and then Lira looking toward the south. Stars relaxed him and made him feel a sense of wholeness. Looking at them was like knowing the world could make sense for a change. He had tried to teach his kid to look for the stars, but he didn't seem too interested.

When he saw Samir sitting on the front deck his heart skipped a bit. Samir turned towards him. "Hey" he whispered "Can't you sleep?"

Cristian got closer. "When it happens I like watching the stars". He forced to look away from Samir's abs, arms or nipples, but his eyes had a bad case of wanderlust for Samir's body, it seemed.

"I like stars too. I like to imagine lines in the sky to join the stars".

"You create new constellations. Don't you like the ones that already exist?"

Samir lowered his eyes. "I don't now them.

Cristian suspected that during his childhood Samir couldn't study like any other kid, he thought that Samir felt shame because of that. "OK, show me your new constellations then".

Samir pointed to a star on their right. "Do you see that? If you imagine a line between that one and the star on the left, what do you see?"

"Mmh, a question mark?" Cristian guessed.

Samir laughed, his face lit up. His smile reached his piercing eyes and that was more than enough to make Cristian's knees tremble.

"It's an arrow!" Samir got even closer.

Cristian couldn't concentrate on his words, but only on his tight pressed against his own, on his skin that smelled like sandalwood and musk and sea. He wondered if Samir could feel his smell in the same way, if Samir too felt inebriated like Cristian was. He remembered what Samir had told him on the terrace of the New Moon. It seems we like the same things, don't you think?

"We like the same things" Cristian said in one breath.

Samir turned towards him with all his body. "I know" he whispered. In one moment their lips met. At the first it wasn't the wet and passionate kiss they exchanged the first time in that Italian night club. At the first it was a light kiss, lips that explored each other tentatively. Then Samir gripped his face and deepened the kiss, satisfying their desire. Cristian's hands slipped down on Samir's back. God, how many times he imagined his body, his naked body. The kisses became rough and burning exactly like the first time. A moaned escaped Cristian's lips when Samir kissed his neck, where the skin was more tender and sensitive. He felt his blood running through his veins, pumping with violence. A warm sensation invaded his body. The waves, the stars, the breeze, everything seemed so far.

It was Samir who brought him back to reality. "Not here" he whispered then got up and started walking. He didn't ask Cristian if he was going to follow him. He knew Cristian would. They arrived to Samir's cabin. They begun to kiss again, then Samir undressed him. Not that there was too much to get rid of. Just his swimsuit. Samir pushed Cristian on the bed with immaculate sheets, but Cristian stopped him.

"Wait. I want to see you." His eyes pointed to an unmistakable spot.

Samir got rid of his swimsuit. His body was sculpted by years of boxing training, marked by scars left by his opponents. Cristian wondered how it would feel to have that body against his own. He didn't have to wait too long to know the answer. When Samir lay on him, their naked bodies and the friction between their members made him moan. Just one night wasn't enough, Cristian thought. It wasn't enough to do everything he had imagined so far, it wasn't enough to kiss and be kissed like he wished. He laid his eyes on Samir's shoulders and then lowered them until he spotted his back, his ass. Gosh, he was so sexy. His skin turned warm losing the coldness he felt when they were on the deck. Cristian closed his eyes. Samir spitted on his hand and then took both of their members. "This is better" he said with a rough voice that was new to Cristian.

"Fuck..." was all that Cristian could say while Samir's hand moved on both of them.

"Don't come now. I want to take you in my mouth. I want you to come with my lips on you," Samir said.

Fuck you, Cristian thought. Fuck, because he decided how he should come, but the true was his order made him even harder. "Harry up then."

Samir lowered himself until he placed his head between Cristian's legs, he kissed his firm skin, his tanned tights, and then did what both of them were aching for, maybe since their second encounter in New York. When Cristian felt one of Samir's hand at the base of his member and his lips on it, he did bit his lips to stop a moan. He couldn't say if he succeeded or not, he just knew that he needed something to hang on. He found Samir's shoulders, he gripped them firmly. What was this about? Not logic nor rationality. It wasn't rational the desperate attraction they felt towards each other. It wasn't rationale the way Cristian wanted that man even knowing he meant troubles, and it wasn't rational in that moment the way Samir was moving his tongue to make him come. Cristian's orgasm exploded. He trembled, shaken, while he felt his whole body clenching.

He saw Samir touching himself, but stopped him. "Let me see what you like".

Then Samir took his hand and guided it on his member. He moved Cristian's hand until his breath fastened and he also came.