Post 23 - Cocina de Carlos

Posted on Wed Feb 24th, 2021 @ 12:27am by Captain Björn Kodak & Andrew Munro
Edited on on Tue Mar 2nd, 2021 @ 1:27am

Mission: The Waiting Game
Location: Isle Delfino, Risa
Timeline: Shoreleave Day 3: 18:45 Hours

[Delfino Plaza]
[Isle Delfino, Risa]
[Shore Leave Day 3: 18:45 Hours]

Andrew materialized on the transporter platform in Delfino Plaza, the open expanse at the heart of the resort on Isle Delfino. Despite it being reasonably crowded with people coming and going most of the time, it served as a natural meeting place and that was exactly what he was there to do. Björn had accepted his choice of restaurant and suggested meeting by the dolphin sculpture in the center of the plaza.

His eyes scanned the people close to the sculpture as he stepped down from the platform. He couldn't make out anyone with the right build to be Björn yet, but he was still a little early. He made his way towards the sculpture, threading his way through the crowds with ease. The shiny stone of the sculpture plinth created a mirror effect, momentarily distracting him with his own image. He'd opted for a plain blue short-sleeved shirt with a button-down collar for a little less casual look and paired it with chino style shorts and suede loafers in a matching light tan shade. It just needed a little something else, so he undid a few buttons from the collar down which allowed a small portion of his hairy chest to become visible. Satisfied with the adjustment, he looked at the crowd in the direction of the villas where the barbecue had been.

An imposing figure, still mostly obscured by other people, had entered the plaza and was headed towards the sculpture. Andrew's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the Aviator sunglasses and he rushed forward to meet him part way, oblivious to the annoyed glances of all those who now had to avoid him.

"Björn!" Andrew exclaimed and launched straight into a bear hug. "So good to see you!"

"And you," the barrel-chested man smiled back warmly from under his sunglasses. With the sun setting over the plaza, the dying rays that would soon give way to night washed over the two men. Björn's face was ethereally lit in tangerine dream as he not only returned the hug but lifted Andrew off the ground, slowly swinging him around 180 degrees. With Andrew's eyes now a few inches above Björn's, the Chameloid looked up at his date and grinned like a fool. "It's good to see you, handsome," he rasped, his voice as radiant as the glowing sunset. He sounded happy...happy and comfortable with this man he'd been so keen on seeing again. "Shall we head down the way then?" he asked, lowering his slightly-portly date gently to the ground.

The giddy little nod Björn got in response was all he needed to chart their course to the restaurant. Taking Andrew's hand in his, he led the younger man down the street. Like his companion, Björn had dressed for a fun evening in a beach resort town. Unlike his date, however, the Chameloid wasn't exactly the portrait of Risian style. Björn had opted for a tropical-style shirt, cerulean in color with shining pearl buttons running down his length. The first few of those buttons were open, revealing some tantalizing glimpses of Björn's hairy chest as the two walked forward, chatting about their day. The sea breeze caught the loose legs of Björn's tan cargo shorts -- a travesty if ever there was but, somehow, fitting for the Chameloid -- and ruffled them in its wake. Comfortable flip flops supported the burly Captain as he walked, though mysteriously did not move around under his feet. A perk of your clothing also being your skin, Björn thought to himself with amusement.

'Cocina de Carlos' turned out to be a relatively small unit at the end of a strip of beachfront retail outlets. All of the others also seemed to be some variant of café or bar with a generous amount of outdoor seating in back to compensate for the lack of interior space. This also allowed patrons to make the best of the location and its refreshing sea breeze. The sign bore a symbol that identified Earth as the origin of this particular cuisine and the vibrant color scheme employed alternated between golden yellow, turquoise, terracotta, cobalt blue, and cream.

"I booked us one of the tables beachside," Andrew said whilst gesturing towards Björn's sunglasses with a nod of his head. "In case you wanted to keep those on."

That actually brought Björn to a halt, turning to gaze at the young man at his side. He opened his mouth as if to speak, his face clouding with what might be gratitude at the gesture. That Andrew was so sensitive to his needs after only one meeting really surprised the Chameloid. Squeezing the hand in his affectionately tighter, Björn said, "It's really sweet of you to think of that. But honestly, getting the best view of you possible is more important than that." With his free hand, he reached up to remove the Aviators and hang them from the open vee of his shirt. He'd been about to say more but movement ahead caught his attention.

"¡Hola!" A young latino man emerged from the restaurant, dressed in loose fitting trousers and an unbuttoned shirt that hung open just enough to reveal an impressive set of abdominal muscles. "I'm Carlos, are you looking to eat?"

"Yes," Andrew replied. "I have a reservation for two under Munro at 7 o'clock."

"Ah, yes. Right over here." The hunky Latino led them through the restaurant and then out back, walking them to a round table that could have seated four, but had only two seats at the ten and two o'clock positions, giving both an uninterrupted view of the sea. Placed in the sand with strings of lovely-lit, multi-colored candle lamps strung overhead, the table and its setting was quite romantic. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I've heard you do a mean frozen Margarita," Andrew grinned.

"Sangria," Björn rasped warmly in response. "Frozen margaritas sound amazing but I've had sangria on my mind ever since you mentioned this place, handsome," he said, moving forward with Andrew's hand still in his own. "Thank you," Björn nodded towards Carlos before pulling a chair out for his sweet, sexy date for the evening.

"De nada," Carlos smiled back, nodding deeply before depositing two menus on the table and then sweeping himself away.

Watching the man go, Björn noticed that Andrew had lowered into his chair. The Chameloid moved to take his own seat then, looking around the beachside patio setup admiringly. "You picked an amazing place, mister," he flashed a smirk Andrew's way.

"I'm glad you approve," Andrew grinned back.

A warm glow from the decorative bulbs strung overhead replaced the last rays of daylight, and the flicker of the candle on the table picked out the rugged features of the handsome face smiling back at Andrew. He took a moment to ponder what it could be about this man that had him so captivated. A chance encounter with a handsome stranger was not an uncommon occurrence on Risa after all, and he had met his fair share, but none of them had occupied his thoughts so much afterward. He had felt such anxiety that he may not have another chance, but now there were no traces of that feeling. The very presence of the man put Andrew at ease, and the warm smile was almost tangible, like something he could wrap himself up in and be protected from the world outside.

It occurred to Andrew that he still knew next to nothing about Björn, other than what he felt like, what he smelled like and what he tasted like. The memory caused a wide smile of satisfaction to break out across his face. Tonight, he'd learn more he promised himself. There had been something about a starship, but it had been described as 'barely operational'. Whatever had happened was most likely not good, and bringing it up felt like it would carry the risk of crashing the mood. There was the woman though, Debbie. She felt like a much safer thread to follow into the enigmatic Chameloid's past.

"Your friend Debbie seems like quite the character," Andrew began. "How far back do you two go?"

"Oh, quite a ways," Björn smiled softly, his eyes catching the candle-light. Flecks of gold and black sparkled in the reflection of the flame, further accenting what was an already-startling pair of eyes. The Chameloid's gaze broke away from Andrew as an unnamed server swung by, depositing two glasses of water, a bowl of freshly made tortilla chips, and a heaping bowl of salsa. The drinking vessels were mostly clear -- their construction incredibly solid due to the very thick glass they were made from. Rimmed in frosted blue stain, Björn raised his glass in a gesture of thanks to the server before taking a sip. It was cold and refreshing, though not as rejuvenating as the man sitting before him, whom Björn was once again smiling at and admiring.

"I met her when I was...twenty-four, I think?" the Chameloid said, his eyes looking upward as his mind cast itself back through the years. "She was an engineer aboard the USS-Xu Shan. I worked in Operations, so we tended to collaborate together quite often," Björn explained. "After the Xu Shan," his voice grew a bit somber for some reason, "we were both assigned to the USS-Lancelot, though I'd switched tracks and became a Tactical officer. God, I've done so many different things," Björn laughed, the sound diffused both by the nearby surf and the roving group of Mariachis, dressed in period-perfect attire and playing an old song on trumpets, guitar, and maracas. "Ended up going different ways until we ended up on the Adelphi together..." Again, that somber tone sang of something sad.

Picking up a salt-encrusted chip and delicately dipping it into the salsa, Björn lifted the savory snack to his lips. He could smell a strong combination of tomato, onion, jalapeno, and... "Garlic," the man chuckled, popping the chip into his mouth and crunching it down. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the heat and amazing flavors of the concoction, his face relaxing in a deeply satisfied smile. But then something suddenly occurred to Björn and cleared his throat to speak. "Listen, I'd like to kiss you later, Andrew," he reached out then, taking the younger man's hand and blazing a grin at him. "Long, deep...passionately. Which means," Björn used his free hand to push the salsa closer to his date, "you'd better lap up some of this garlic yourself. We'll need to cancel each other out," he chuckled softly, mischief lighting his eyes as the order was given.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Andrew replied with a wink. "I love garlic." He selected a chip with a deep curve and used it to scoop up a hunk of salsa. Raising it to his mouth, he made a point of suggestively dipping his tongue into it before crunching down on the whole lot. "Almost as much as I love kissing handsome men."

Caught in the moment with Björn, Andrew hadn't noticed Carlos returning to the table. Not just to the table, he was close. Andrew felt Carlo's hand on his shoulder and looked up to find large hazel eyes looking directly into his.

"Have you decided what you want?" Carlos asked with a smile.

"Uhh not yet," Andrew stammered.

Björn's right eyebrow arched up at Carlos' closeness, a little surprised by the hand on Andrew's shoulder. "We've uh...not yet had a chance to look at the menu, friend," the Chameloid smiled, though it bore a certain hollowness as he regarded the man. While he didn't consider himself a jealous man in principle, two things were running through his mind: one, Carlos seemed to be a stranger -- there'd been no passing familiarity between he and Andrew when they'd been seated. And two, Andrew himself didn't seem to be entirely comfortable with the hand on his shoulder -- something that, coming from a friend or acquaintance, would normally illicit a welcome response as far as body language went. No, Björn had a pretty good read that Carlos was new and that Carlos was also being a bit presumptive.

"Perhaps you could give us a few minutes? We were just enjoying a quick catch up before diving into this," Björn said, holding up his menu. "Maybe check on those drinks, hmm?" He flashed a practiced, charming smile then...one he reserved for diplomatic contact he'd rather not linger in.

"Of course, señor," Carlos nodded, looking none-too-happy at the reception from the older and bolder of the two men. Moving towards the bar, he collected the two drinks onto a tray but sent another server out with them.

Andrew visibly relaxed as Carlos left again. Not usually one to shy away from attention, it had been right in front of Björn and instead of feeling flattered, he'd felt derailed. The server delivered their drinks then, Andrew accepting his own with a thankful nod before flashing an appreciative smile in Björn's direction. He took a sip of ice-cold margarita, savoring the kick of the tequila complemented by the zing from the lime. None of the other diners were paying any attention to them, but he felt it'd be wise to reign it in a bit and be a little more subtle.

"I think I'm going to stick to something light, maybe a couple of fish tacos or some camarones," Andrew offered, wondering if the subtext would be clear enough. "Do you see anything you fancy?"

Stick to something light, Björn thought to himself, sincerity returning to his smile. He knew what that was code for, of course. Most gay men did -- as a matter of fact -- and Björn very much appreciated the intent behind Andrew's calling that out. "Probably good to err on the side of caution there," he rasped, locking eyes again and offering the most mischievous of grins. "I'd say your thinking very much aligns with mine, sexy," Björn nodded, reaching for his glass of sangria. Droplets of condensation had collected on the glass' surface, cooling to the touch as the Chameloid raised the drink to his lips. The mixture of ice, wine, fresh fruit, and tartness was exactly what he'd been hankering for.

Björn buried his eyes in the menu then, scanning the items listed. There were pictures of various dishes, each looking more delicious than the last. And the rumbling from his stomach meant that he'd gone too long without eating, which explained why he was suddenly having so much trouble deciding.

"Everything looks so good. I'm tempted to try the--" he began but stopped, his face souring as Carlos returned.

"Señores! Time to order, no?" the owner asked, his smile jovial.

"He's ready, I think," Björn nodded to Andrew, "though I'm still perusing. Maybe just another--"

"Take your time, señor! I'll start with your very handsome compadre here," Carlos beamed, looking down at Andrew. "What can I get you, guapo?" he asked, switching back and forth between English and Spanish. As always, the universal translator somehow knew when not to translate intentionally-used words and phrases.

"I'll have the tacos de pescado and a side of camarones al mojo de ajo." The inelegant pronunciation of the untranslated words betrayed Andrew's limited understanding of Spanish.

"An excellent choice," Carlos smiled wide, not bothering to write the order down. "While your friend decides, I hope you will not mind a compliment, no?" Without waiting for a response, he moved those abs of his ever closer, very nearly pressing them against the side of Andrew's face as Carlos reached up to run his hand gently over the bald man's smooth head. "You look fantástico like this, quapo. Que rico yo quiero," he beamed, languishing the touch amidst his chuckles. The tone of his voice very much sounded as if he didn't expect his patrons to understand his comments just then. "Please forgive, I can be a little enthusiastic with such a handsome man. The Spanish just comes right out, eh? And so does that chest hair," he said, pointing down at Andrew's open shirt. "Risa does lower the inhibitions, no?" he asked, reaching for the open vee of said shirt.

Andrew felt the heat radiating from his face as the compliments piled on and his embarrassment intensified. It was flattering of course, but young, athletic hunks weren't exactly his type. His eyes darted between his now-redundant menu and Björn, trying to gauge how he was taking this development, and avoiding Carlos for fear of encouraging him further. He sensed that Carlos would have a hard time understanding why someone would not find him alluring, and the appropriate words to brush him off politely escaped his mind.

"You speak truly, friend," Björn suddenly spoke up, laying his menu down. "But perhaps, as the owner of this place, you might not hit on your customers quite so blatantly, hmm?" He stood then, slowly but intimidatingly. The action brought Carlos' hand up short as the owner reached for Andrew. Several inches taller than Carlos and quite a bit sturdier, the Chameloid looked down at the man with that hollow smile of his again. "The chimichanga con chili verde will do nicely. No guac, extra sour cream and chili verde sauce. Oh," his smile grew wider, "and también me gustaría un tamal rojo. Y sí," that smile turned into something bordering on wicked, "hablo español, amigo. Aqui," he said, taking Andrew's menu and, along with his own, handed them over to Carlos.

"You speak Spanish very well," Carlos stammered, withdrawing into himself. He'd been cowed sufficiently, it seemed. "My apologies for intruding on your evening," he said, his voice trite. "Coming right up, señores!" He couldn't leave fast enough, it seemed.

Lowering back into his chair, Björn took another sip of his sangria. "Bet that happens to you all the time on Risa," he commented, summoning a half-smile for his date. "I hope you'll forgive the way I sent him off. I guess I'm a little protective of you and our time together tonight," his smiled stretched even wider. "I'd just really like to have you all to myself for the evening," Björn said, hoping Andrew wouldn't be scared off by his behavior. As a Captain, he was used to flexing his demeanor to change the flow of situations as desired but not everyone appreciated such.

"Actually, that was kinda hot," Andrew grinned. He raised his glass to his lips as though that would be enough to conceal the fact that he couldn't stop grinning. The display of dominance had sent Carlos off with his tail between his legs, but Andrew had found it exciting and was hoping for more. "I thought you were gonna start beating your chest." Andrew took a long sip of his drink and let the chill of the ice snap his focus back to the moment, away from the fantasies that were rapidly forming in his mind.

"Even here, people tend to look for some kind of signal that you're interested first," Andrew explained. "The few that do come on that strong are usually the ones that don't take the hint either. I've never been able to get rid of one without harsh words and hurt feelings, and I hate doing that." The grin gave way to a look of sincerity. "I'm impressed." He tilted his glass towards Björn in a gesture of gratitude. "Thanks for the rescue."

Björn couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of beating his chest while staring down at the intrusive Carlos. "He's just lucky Chameloids can only take on humanoid shapes. Otherwise, he'd have had a real bear to contend with," he smirked behind his own drink, the refreshingly-fruity concoction going down all too easily. "And you're very welcome for the save, handsome. Glad you thought it was hot," he laughed lightly, setting his drink down again. Studying Andrew's face and body language, Björn decided the man was amenable enough to try something.

Scootching his chair from the 10 o'clock position to a smidge-before-noon, Björn then reached to grab the forward arm-post of Andrew's chair. Beneath, a stony slab foundation was hidden by a two inch layer of beach sand -- a layer that did nothing to impede the Chameloid's pull. Andrew and his seat were suddenly -- but smoothly -- slid to the smidge-past-noon position, the metal feet of the chair scraping loudly across the stone. Heads all around the pair turned at the sound, including that of Carlos, who was watching mournfully from the bar. Björn's gesture sent a very clear message to the onlookers: MINE.

To underscore the message to Andrew himself, Björn slipped his right hand below the table and rested it on the man's thigh. His index finger lightly traced a random pattern across the skin just above the knee, the rest of his hand gently resting in Andrew's lap. Björn's pinky was perilously close to an intimate area, the heat from such warming the Chameloid's skin as he leaned in. "I don't think I can wait until after dinner," Björn rasped quietly in Andrew's ear, trailing his nose down the man's neck, across his bearded cheek, and then finding his lips with his own. All thoughts of Carlos were forgotten as sangria mixed with margarita, Björn's hand edging even closer, hidden under the table as it was.

Memories of their beachside kiss flooded back into Andrew's mind as his senses were once again filled with Björn. His scent was the same and the texture of his tongue was now familiar, but the similarities ended there. This was public and he could sense the gaze of the other diners and staff watching them. This was exciting. The feel of the kiss was not the same. The last one had been exploratory, probing and discovering a new territory that seemed appealing. This one carried force and confidence, this one was invading and planting the flag so that all could see the claim.

Unlike their first kiss, Andrew realized that there was no hand bracing the back of his head this time. Instead he felt a downward pressure on his neck as Björn's face angled on top of his, bearing down on him. It was mirroring a few moments earlier when he had cast his imposing figure over the table to send Carlos running and Andrew wondered what it would feel like to have Björn's full weight on him, pinning him down, trapping him. He couldn’t help wondering what compromising position Bjorn’s proximity might take if they weren’t in public.

Just how close could he physically get before the temptation was too much? The thought set his nerves on end and he could feel his body responding in kind. Björn’s hand was perilously close to encountering that reaction and the thought was both nerve wracking and exhilarating. His shorts were now more impediment than help and he realized that, if their position didn’t change soon, it would be painfully clear just exactly how much he was enjoying this interaction.

But he, himself, was not in control of the situation and so the anxiety quickly morphed into a naughty excitement as yet another surge rippled through Andrew's body. His breathing deepened as he felt himself responding to Björn's masterful touch, feeling locked out of his own body as his mind was overloaded with sensation and his impulse control reduced to automatic responses.

It was like they were in their own pocket dimension -- the great galaxy beyond moving forward at normal speed while time slowed inside. Björn's hand penetrated the gap between the fabric of Andrew's shorts and his thigh, sliding further into the warm pocket as if to reach for what was inside. But as Andrew's body shuddered under the sensation, his breath catching in his throat as he ached for more contact, the Chameloid's hand stopped just shy of it. Looking up, the pair could see a server was on the approach, two steaming plates of food laden on a tray.

"If you're a good boy during dinner," Björn's voice abraded fleetingly in Andrew's ear, "I might take you back to my hot tub later." Andrew's eyes seemed to widen at the idea, his smile excitable as his body almost vibrated with the thought. "Clear your plate then, young man," Björn smirked, raising his voice to normal speaking level as the server stepped into their bubble, lowering the plates. "Thank you very much," the Chameloid said, nodding up at Not-Carlos in appreciation. "Do you think we could get a couple more drinks to wash this down?" he asked, hand leaving Andrew's thigh to pick up his fork and tuck in.

A trail of goosebumps prickled the younger man's skin in the fading warmth of Björn's touch. He sat there, completely enraptured, unsure of what to do next. How was he supposed to focus on dinner after that? But as he looked over at his dinner companion, the look on Björn's face said it all: he'd damn well better figure it out and in a hurry, too. There was more fun to be had.


=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Captain Björn Kodak
Commanding Officer, Unassigned

and

Andrew Munro
Federation Biologist