Chuck sat at a table, some blue prints spread out in front of him while the project foreman screamed into a phone not a few feet away. Some of the workmen looked on in obvious curiosity at what had gotten their boss all worked up. The foreman also happened to own the construction company, deciding to oversee this project personally, and was also Chuck's father. Somehow, they had gotten roped into spending months down on this tropical island, building a resort hotel with it numerous little cabanas and out buildings. Chuck would have actually enjoyed most of his time down here, if it weren't for his father.
For some reason, the locals, or rather those who lived on the nearest inhabited islands wouldn't come to this grouping of islands. Some local legends about a curse or something he heard a few times when he traveled back to the closest island city to either get supplies or get away, which is why their company got roped in to this project, and they were being paid very well for it, too. It was the whole reason Chuck's father was up in arms when any little thing went wrong. Today he was yelling about a shipment of bamboo flooring if Chuck caught the right words. Supply lines made this an interesting contract. After six months, they were almost done, really, most of the buildings were in the finishing stages. Flooring, painting, getting the water feature in front of the main building running.
Right now there were only twelve of them on the island. Ten workers, his father, and himself who at twenty-four and as a recent graduate in architecture was reading the blue prints and making sure the project went off right. Not something he would normally be trusted with, but since he was the boss' son and the future owner of the company, no one said anything.
Chuck couldn't think with his father practically yelling in his ear. With a sigh he pushed away from the table and left the main building. It was only a short walk to the beach and he could clear his mind. The day was balmy and pleasant, with a good wind coming off the ocean. Chuck, not for the first time, wondered if the hotel chain was hiring. He wouldn't mind living down here. He unbuttoned his shirt as he walked, letting the ocean breeze run over his skin. A/C was down today in the main building for more work, so even a pleasant day outside was a bit of an oven inside.
He didn't mind showing off a little either. He had the same burly build as his dad, though being younger and having wrestled all through college he was fit unlike his dad who had gone a bit to pot over the last few years as he did less manual labor in his construction business and more and more sunk into office work. Chuck made sure he helped with some of the physical side of things, not only for a workout but it helped earn him some respect from the crew. He wasn't just some college nerd, he would happily get his hands dirty. He ran a hand through his dark blond, hair wrinkling his nose at the sweat in it. Maybe a swim would be in order.
When he got down to the beach, there was a strange sight. Some type of large rowing boat had been pulled up onto the sand. Not far off someone had dug a fire pit and was working on getting a fire going. This island was supposed to be private property. He headed in that direction, his eyes falling on the man working on the fire.
He was maybe a couple years older than Chuck, definitely in his twenties. He was well muscled, leaner than Chuck though he was sure the other man would have an edge on him in strength. He had the darker skin coloration of the local populace, though his hair was a dark brown rather than the typical black, left long and loose around his shoulders, and as he looked up at Chuck his eyes were a bright blue. He wore nothing except for a loose loin cloth around his waist. A bow and quiver sat in the sand just within reach, though the man made no reach for it. Instead he smiled and said something in a language Chuck couldn't understand. Chuck had picked up a lot of the local tongue, and this sounded similar, but it was off, too far off for him to make sense of it.
The man repeated himself and motioned Chuck closer. He looked excited. Chuck noticed there was another set of foot prints headed off into the jungle. Which made sense, that boat did not look like a one man rower, especially not over ocean waves.
He looked back to the man who was still beckoning him closer. Chuck should head back and report this, but something in him wanted to like and trust this local. That stare though, he felt like prey under that stare, it didn't make him feel small, instead, he felt like he wanted to get trapped by this hunter, that it would be a.. pleasant experience to be hunted by this one.
Chuck finally sat down in the sand by the fire and the unknown man held out a juicy looking fruit Chuck didn't recognize. It did look refreshing though. He took it gingerly and looked it over. A few nods of encouragement and he took a bite. Cool, sweet juice burst into his mouth and ran down his throat. He eagerly devoured the fruit, the first bite awakening a hunger in him.
"It's good, isn't it?" The hunter said. Chuck nodded, then blinked. The man was still speaking the strange language, Chuck just understood it now. That should worry him, but it didn't. Neither did the two hands pushing his shirt back of his shoulders or the pair of lips meeting his own in an eager kiss.
Chuck was completely straight. He had never even considered doing anything with another man before. But as this hunter's hands explored his body he felt alive, eager, horny. He met that kiss with just as much passion as it was being given, not even noticing the patch of fur that was suddenly sprouting from the middle of his chest, or that his cock, now freed from his shorts by the hunter was changing shape as if molded by the fingers rubbing it.