Kasper's Prince Charming

Chapter 8 - Emerson's Boy

"Go!" Ali whispered with urgency and waved me towards the door.

I scurried out and pulled it closed behind me. I went over to the couch and pulled a magazine from the coffee table. I sat and thumbed through it just as the door to the master bedroom opened.

I didn't turn to look. I pretended to be engrossed in an article about gardening in Capetown.

"Good morning, little one. You are up with the sun," Mr. Hamad's voice came from behind me as his hand found my shoulder.

"Good morning... sir," I stammered and turned to see him standing to my side wearing a small pair of workout shorts. His eyes were heavy with sleep.

"I heard you moving around. I was worried the boys would bother you," Mr. Hamad said.

He rubbed his hand over my hair in a gentle sweep then leaned down to kiss my forehead.

"I haven't heard them," I lied.

"The breakfast should be here. I will check." He walked over to the main suite door and opened it to reveal a large silver tray with a tea kettle and food trays.

He squatted to lift it and I got a nice view of his firm, round ass straining the small shorts. I felt like a total pervert checking out Amir's father, but I was surrounded by a sea of beautiful men here! I was drowning!

He brought in the tray of tea and set it on the coffee table then went back to the doorway to bring in the Durban newspaper. He came and flopped down on the couch next to me to unfold the paper. I got up and poured the tea for us. Mr. Hamad nodded to show his approval.

"Just tea please, no sugar.... Thank you. Did you sleep well?" Mr. Hamad took the cup I offered.

"I did. Thank you. The bed was so comfortable that I didn't want to get out of it this morning," I poured myself a cup of tea and added a little sugar.

I sat back on the couch and leaned back to find Mr. Hamad's arm behind me. He set his tea on a side table and thumbed through the news as I relaxed into his side.

"Your hair smells like my Emi's. He was your same age when I found him. He was small like you. Same shampoo... it's nice. He never wanted to grow his hair out like yours. He didn't want to be too feminine. Your parents did not object?" Mr. Hamad asked as he took in a deep breath.

"I did it to get back at them... but then I liked it," I admitted.

I noted the shortened name he used for his husband, Emerson. I imagined they were pretty hot together when they were younger. They were both still very handsome men.

"Tell me how you met him? How long have you guys been together?" I asked. It was a quiet morning and I liked spending time under his arm with his hand resting on my left bicep.

"Oh you don't want to hear about this! We are a boring old married couple," Mr. Hamad laughed, but I prodded him.

He told me everything about his friend asking him to look after Emerson while he was out of the country. He said he followed him for a bit and quickly fell in love.

He was fascinated how a small, blonde, deaf boy could be brave enough to travel to a strange land and try to make it on his own. He told me about how he intervened at a juice bar when the attendant was rude to Emerson and how he rescued him. He talked about Emerson falling and hitting his head, how he nursed him back to health and lost his heart completely to the boy.

"That is the most beautiful story ever!" I grinned. "I can't believe it all worked out. You two were made for each other. But... wasn't your friend angry you stole his guy?"