I didn’t want to be late.”“You’re late,” Andreas replied coolly. His throat felt dry despite the water. Gay sex Raised in the baroque stiffness of a Bavarian estate by Andreas’ estranged ex-wife and her blue-blooded family, the boy—now nearly a man—spoke more German than Greek and looked at his father like one studies a painting in a museum: with distant admiration, tinged with discomfort. The silence of Antipaxos had become deafening.No one knew, not really, how hard it was to be Andreas. Impeccably confident. His father, stern and immovable, made sure that Andreas behaved like a gentleman with women and that his word was his bond with men. “Then I guess I don’t know what’s real either.”They sat in the silence for a beat too long. Andreas took a seat at one of the chaise lounges, draping a towel across the cushion. He didn’t look around. The sun carved soft shadows along his back and down the arches of his calves. Something that contrasted with Andreas’ outward behavior.Tony tried to keep his breathing steady. A trail of wet footprints marked the path, irregular and fading quickly in the heat.
