A Tale of Four Queers

Chapter 5

By two, the four were back, safe in the hotel lobby, with a still, very infuriated Justin. No amount of ego or dick stroking was going to calm the boy down. While Brian's tirades were often noisy and dramatic, they were over quickly. Especially when Justin was there to smooth the ruffled feathers. This was different; it wasn't the insults that made Justin angry. It was the desecration of the artwork. Justin was so angry that his face was getting red and tears were broiling.

Brian whispered something to John, and he and Bobby ushered Justin into the coffee shop while Brian went to speak to the concierge. A few minutes later Brian joined them. Four strong coffees were cooling on the table as Justin was stabbing a poor cinnamon bun with his fork.

Brian, John and Bobby continued to watch Justin assault the bun as they sipped their coffees.

"Justin, are you going to eat the fucking thing or just torture it?"

"Sorry, Bri. I'm not hungry."

"Fuck. This is getting serious if you're not hungry. Okay troops. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Let's go people. Since San Marco was a bust, we're going to explore Cabimas."

Brian threw a few bucks down on the table then shepherded his charges out the door and onto the street.

Getting his bearings and following the directions the concierge had written for him, Brian led his troops through the cobblestone streets. At the end of their trek was another church. It was surrounded by high walls and had an ornate wrought iron gate. The church yard was the local cemetery and it contained several mausoleums. Beyond the cemetery stood a large fountain. The rushing water sounded like a waterfall spewing forth from a pitcher which a very Reubenesque marble woman was holding in the center of the fountain. Surrounding her, lying at her feet were sculpted fruit and two small children sitting close. The fountain was beautiful and more importantly, artist eye candy.

Brian guided Justin to a nearby stone bench. He gave Justin a little shove to sit him down. Reaching into Justin's messenger bag, Brian withdrew the sketch pad and the pack of pencils he knew were in it. Without ever saying a word, he placed the pad and a pencil in his lover's hand. Kissing the top of the blond's head, Brian whispered, "later," then walked off to join John and Bobby who were several feet away watching the master at work. Justin smiled sweetly at Brian and nodded. He took a deep breath then opened his pad and began to sketch.

John put his arm around Brian's shoulder as the three men walked to explore the rest of the churchyard giving Justin some privacy to sketch.

"You think that will work?" John asked Brian.

"It should. He'll get lost in his sketch and when he finds his way back, he'll be fine." Brian answered.

"How did you find this place? It is beautiful." Bobby said while he scanned the serene grounds.

"I asked at the hotel."

"You asked about another church?"

"No. I asked where local artists go to enjoy sketching or painting. The concierge suggested this place. He said that many young artists come here. And he said that the monks who tend the cemetery and the gardens have no objections to the 'artsy' types who visit." Brian let his last comment sink in as they strolled toward the chapel.

As they were about to enter, a young very good looking dark haired beauty swished by with his own sketch pad and pencils clutched in his hands. He quickly cruised John and Brian. While finding the almost twinlike brothers beautiful, his eyes quickly locked onto the flame haired, pale skinned Bobby. Brunets were a dime a dozen, true redheads were a prize.

"Are you on vacation?" The young artist asked Bobby in very passable English. "My name is Roberto. I would be honored to show you my city."

"And everything else," John mumbled to himself. He sidled up to Bobby's side and wrapped his arm around Bobby's waist. John did his own version of the Kinney death glare. The young artist smiled a toothy grin at Bobby. "Perhaps another time." He said as he left the chapel.

Brian had ignored the drama and was already in the chapel looking at the frescoes that adorned the walls. He smiled to himself, shaking his head. Justin's passion for art was rubbing off on him.

A small grouping of angels behind the baptismal font caught Brian's eye. It really wasn't the angels themselves that were out of the ordinary, it was more of how they were portrayed. Something about the use of the color and the boldness of the paint stroke seemed familiar. A small noise behind Brian caught his attention. An elderly monk was polishing the railing in front of the font.

"Excuse me, do you speak English?"

"Yes, my son, I do," the monk answered.

"This part of the church seems different from the rest."

"You have a good eye. Yes, this is the oldest part of the chapel. There was a terrible fire; this wall and the font are all that survived. Perhaps it was the angels who spared it." The old monk smiled at Brian and nodded toward the beautiful angels. White wisps of clouds swirled about the angels' feet. Each angel was holding two babies, one in each arm.

"Perhaps." Brian agreed. "Do you know who painted the fresco?"

"No, I have never been able to find a signature but a story has been passed down from each curate that a pair of white men came from the jungle, hungry and cold. They asked and were granted shelter. Grateful for being received so warmly they decorated the church with wonderful renderings of our lord and the saints. When they were finished it was said they continued their journey northward and were never seen again. But then this is only a story, yes?" The old monk winked at Brian and continued to polish the railing.

"Thank you." Brian smiled back then removed several bills from his wallet. He went to the collection box that was near to one of the doors and stuffed them in. Walking back to the monk who watched his every move, Brian grinned. "To help you with God's work and to keep the paintings conserved." The monk nodded and returned to his work.

Brian rushed past to retrieve Justin, to show him his discovery.

"Justin," Brian called. The blond was still sitting near the fountain sketching.

"What?" Justin asked slightly annoyed. He was almost done and didn't appreciate being interrupted.

"I have something I want you to see."

"What? Did you find the guy with the biggest cock in Cabimas?"

Brian raised an eyebrow. Obviously Justin wasn't through with his bad mood just yet. "Better," Brian said.

Now it was Justin's turn to raise his eyebrows. "What could be better where you're concerned?"

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Brian demanded calling Justin on his shit.

"I can't help it. Every time I think of what that idiot priest did to Kinney's paintings…" Justin let his voice trail off not being able to think of anything vile enough to do to the despicable man.

"Come with me and I promise you'll feel better."

"Are you planning to fuck me on the altar?" Justin asked with a snort. He thought Brian would probably get off on that.

"Hmmm," Brian said thoughtfully. "No, it's better than that."

Now Brian had Justin's attention. "What is it, Brian?" Justin asked beginning to feel the excitement radiating from his partner.

"Just come with me," Brian begged.

Justin closed his sketchbook and allowed Brian to take his hand. He started to lead his partner to the front of the church.

"Bobby, John, come over here," Brian called. "You need to see this too."

They all made their way inside the church. The old monk was still polishing and he watched the young men with a smile.

"Look behind the baptismal font," Brian directed them at the side of the altar.

Justin was already taking in the paintings behind the altar. He turned his attention to the angels above the font. "Oh my God!" he gasped seeing Patrick's face peer out at him framed by a pair of wings.

"It's Patrick," Bobby smiled.

"And look here," Brian said pointing to another angel.

"It's Kinney," John replied. "I'll be damned."

"Not inside this church," the old monk said with a chuckle as he joined them.

Justin was staring at the angels and then his eyes moved to the Christ and host of apostles behind the altar. "This is all Kinney," he said breathlessly. "How did you find it?" he asked Brian.

"Just wanted to get out of the heat. Churches are always cool," Brian smirked.

"You like the artwork?" the monk asked looking at the men.

"Very much," Justin said as they nodded.

"He told me that two white men came out of the jungle needing help and the people of this church aided them," Brian explained.

"Do you know anything else?" Justin asked the monk.

"It is all, how you say, an oral history. According to the story, the younger man was ill for quite a while. They stayed here until he was well. The church had just been built at that time and the older man did the paintings as payment and thanks for the help they were given."

"I wonder why there wasn't more about this in Kinney's journal," Justin said.

"He may have been very busy painting and looking after Patrick. Maybe we're missing some pages of the journal. Who knows?" Bobby contributed.

"This is so wonderful," Justin said smiling as he studied the paintings.

"Feeling better now, little boy?" Brian asked as he kissed Justin's cheek.

"A million times better. I need to write this up in my own journal. Can we take pictures? It will go to a good cause," Justin promised as the monk nodded. "Brian, can you get your camera and take them."

"Aye, aye, cap'n," Brian joked as he went back to the hotel to get his digital.

"This is so great! I can't believe we almost missed this," Justin said gazing in awe.

"I can't believe Kinney painted himself and Patrick as angels. There's something very ironic about that," John observed.

"I don't know about that. I could see Brian as an angel, and Bobby, and you," Justin continued. "Maybe I'll have to start a series showing just that … after we get back home, of course."

"Of course," John agreed shaking his head and laughing.

In about 15 minutes Brian was back with his camera. Justin snatched it out of his hands so fast that Brian nearly got a friction burn from the strap. Brian blew on his palm to cool it and chuckled as Justin scurried away toward the font to take his photos.

Half way up the aisle Justin stopped, turned and walked back to where Brian was standing. Justin leaned in, kissed his hero's wounded paw then kissed the man's cheek. "Thank you," Justin whispered then again scurried back up the aisle. Brian remained at the back of the church until his little artist was done taking pictures.

Bobby had finished wandering around the church and went outside. John and Brian remained inside watching Justin happily chatting away with the monk and taking the photos. Bobby strolled the grounds, reading the grave markers and tombstones. He had taken Spanish courses along with his law classes in hopes that a bilingual lawyer would have a certain edge when he applied for employment. That, the fact he was top of his class and had a wonderfully caring and endearing personality made him easily employable. Bobby was reading the names and the phrases in one of the mausoleums when Roberto made another appearance. Roberto was intrigued and enamored by his flame-haired namesake; he couldn't help but follow.

"Hello again," Roberto started. "Are you an artist too?"

"Me? No. A lawyer or I will be when we go back home. My friend, he's in the church, he's the artist."

"Ah, the tall dark beauty who came to your side. He doesn't look like an artist."

"John? No, he's my partner. We're traveling with two other men. It's one of them who's the artist."

"And is he as beautiful as you? Your hair, rojo, like the setting sun." Roberto's voice was low, melodious and very seductive. He continued to murmur compliments in a combination of Spanish and English, edging his way closer to Bobby. Bobby found himself against a wall of stone with Roberto leaning in close. "You would make the most bonito model. White skin against a dark floor, a pillow under your head and there, for comfort." Roberto reached around Bobby's hips pulling him close to grind his erection.

Bobby pushed Roberto in the chest. "I don't think so," Bobby snarled back. But his retort only served to inflame Roberto's ardor. "But why? Your partner? As you American fags call them. Let him watch, he is very pretty too. I can satisfy you both."

"I don't think so." Bobby and Roberto turned toward the voice. Bobby was hoping John wouldn't be a witness to this little drama. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the voice belonged to Brian. Brian sauntered toward them with that air of arrogance and authority that he was infamous for, his Ragean glare at full force. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" Brian drawled at Roberto as he extricated Bobby from the unwanted clench. "You're supposed to ask first before eating off of someone else's plate. Now be a good little boy and go home. This red head is out of your league." Brian grabbed Bobby's wrist and led him away from the mausoleum.

"Thanks, but I could have handled him. I'm not Justin."

"No, you're not and I know you could have handled him just fine. But you are John's first and hopefully his last. It would have killed him to have to see something like that, and he might not have been able to control himself. I want to be able to go home with good memories which exclude any of us being thrown in a South American prison. So let's get you back to your boyfriend before he finds out just how attractive you are to these Latin queers." Brian smirked with hazel eyes sparkling gold in the sun like his brother's.

Bobby could see why Justin was so in love with Brian. As opposite as John and Brian were in personality they were the same with their love, passion, loyalty and most of all, protectiveness. He couldn't help but express his gratitude for the rescue.

Reaching up on his toes as Justin often did, Bobby grabbed the back of Brian's neck and bent him down to give him a kiss. "Thank you." When the kiss lingered for a few moments longer than it should, both men pulled back.

"I can see why my brother would bottom for you. He's a lucky man."

"And why Justin bottoms for you. He isn't, but you know that, don't you."

"I know and I'm learning to be more, um, versatile. I guess it's not fair to him."

"He loves you, Brian. Bottom, top, doesn't matter as long as there's love."

Brian gazed into Bobby's grey-blue eyes and brushed a lock of the flaming red hair from Bobby's face. He lifted Bobby's chin with a finger then placed a chaste kiss on Bobby's lips. "You're a very smart man. Now, I think it's about time we get back to our partners," Brian stated and Bobby nodded in agreement.

Unbeknownst to Brian and Bobby, their innocent tryst was witnessed by said partners. John and Justin had left the church in search of Brian and Bobby. It was getting close to dinner time and they were both hungry. They were laughing at their stomachs, both growling away. The laughter abruptly ended when the saw that last kiss, their appetites suddenly gone.

"Hey, you both look like you lost your best friend. Not another argument with a man of the cloth, I hope," Brian quipped. John and Justin shook their heads. "Well Bobby and I have worked up an appetite. Let's go back to the hotel and get cleaned up for dinner. We have to review our itinerary."

Brian turned to lead the way back to the hotel. Bobby walked beside him chatting about some of the tombstones he had come across. Close behind them were two very jealous partners.