Chapter 9 – Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Once we were back in Houston, we met with Pastor Chris. He was not impressed with our distinction between sexual activity and sex. He was right. It was a self-interested distinction. But, it was one by which we had to abide. We couldn't go back to holding hands. We just couldn't. It was too late for that.

As the seasons changed, so did our trajectories. I heard that I had been selected for an internship with the National Security Agency, while Luke pitched for a depleted Owl team. Graduation had hit the team hard in 2010, and the wave of recruits following Luke wasn't quite ready. The Owls foundered, and they were in danger of missing the NCAA tournament for the first time under Coach Grantham.

The season was tough on Luke. He was supposed to be a savior, but he couldn't pitch every day. Rice was invincible when he pitched, and average when he didn't. In the end, the combination was enough. Rice slipped into the tournament, only to be bounced out in a game Luke couldn't pitch.

We were going to spend the summer apart. I was going to be in D.C., and Luke would be in Houston.

As we settled into bed the night before I was to leave, Luke suggested that we have an atavistic summer. "Rather than email and text, let's write each other letters."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It'll be fun. And it'll soak up a lot of our free time. It'll keep us out of trouble."

"I didn't know you need to be kept out of trouble."

"I don't. Except when you're around."

With that, he rolled on top of me, kissed me, and started writhing against me. We had recently added this move as within our increasingly dull line between what we could and could not do together. He was almost always on top and controlling the rhythm of our movements. We had gotten good at finishing together while we kissed. It was extremely erotic, as his thickness worked against my hardness. Sometimes, I opened my legs and trapped him between my thighs. Other times, I didn't, and we coated my stomach.

Luke sweated a lot. When he writhed against me, he usually dripped sweat onto me. I loved being covered in his sweat.

I wrote him my first letter while in the air the next day.

My Luke:

I'm not gone two hours, and I wonder how I'll make it two days, much less two months. I already ache for your smile and long for your touch.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I can't imagine that's true. I can't imagine being fonder of you than I already am.

I'll write again soon.

Your Bennie

The government worked its interns to nubs. I got access to a lot of information and programs that no one should even know exist, much less work on. Each day terrified me. The world was more dangerous than I could ever have imagined.

I wrote to Luke almost every day. While he had suggested we write each other love letters, mine were typically more mundane. I didn't have the energy to be clever every day. And, I feared being sappy would eventual become cloying.

I received my first letter on my third day in D.C.

Bennie Boy:

I feel like a big piece of me has gone missing.

Oh, I'm lookin' for my missin' piece

I'm lookin' for my missin' piece

Hi-dee-ho, here I go

lookin' for my missin' piece.

I can't wait to find it again.

Your Luke

"The Giving Tree" was one of my favorite childhood books. "The Missing Piece" was one of my least favorite. I wrote back immediately.

My Luke:

You need to re-read the book. The circle starts out singing, loving the adventure as it searches for the perfect piece to complete itself. But after it finally finds the wedge, it decides it preferred being incomplete. So, it gives the piece up, and pretends to keep searching, singing its days away.

I am your missing piece, and you are mine. I complete you, and you complete me. I will never give you up. You can't give me up, either. I'd never sing again.

Your Bennie

I received Luke's response quickly. It was on a torn piece of paper. It said simply

BB:

Fret not. I'll never give you up.

Your Luke

We went on like that throughout the Summer. Some of our letters were whimsical. Some were serious. Most were simple updates on life in D.C. or Houston.

We still have every letter we sent each other. We keep them in shoe boxes, one marked "Mine" and one marked "His." I usually have to read a few to remind myself whose letters are in which box.

We talked only on Sunday evenings. We usually talked until one of us fell asleep.

Luke visited twice, each time for a weekend. The visits were furtive. We kissed and jerked and writhed. I hated when it was time for him to leave.

As I readied to head back to Houston, I wrote Luke a final letter. I knew I'd end up beating it home.

My Luke:

I was wrong. Absence has made the heart grow fonder. I can't wait to return to you. I don't ever want to be apart from you again.

When you're finished reading this, I want you to make love to me.

Your Bennie

Luke raised his eyes from the page and looked me into mine. I smiled, and he raised his eyebrows, silently asking "Are you sure?"

"I am. I thought all Summer 'what if something happens to him or me and we've never made love'? I don't want to die not knowing what it's like to make love with you."

"You're not going to die," Luke assured me.

"Of course I will. We all will."

"You know what I mean."

"Still, I think I'm ready."

"I'm not sure I am. I really think we should be married first."

He had taken the bait. "Funny you should mention that," I said, taking a knee, taking Luke's left hand in mine, and asking, "Luke Caleb Black, will you do me the honor of being my husband?"

Luke kneeled down, took my face in his hands, and asked, "Are you serious, Bennie?"

"I've never been more serious about anything in my life. This Summer confirmed what I already knew to be true. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to marry you. Right now. I don't want to live another moment not being your husband, and you not being mine."

"I want to marry you, too, Bennie Boy," he said, taking his face in mine and kissing me. We both cried as we kneeled, kissing and holding and kissing and holding.

We told no one of our plan. The New York legislature had passed marriage equality that Summer, and we decided we wanted to do it there, not in a state where a court had decided the issue. Pastor Chris agreed to go with us and to perform the ceremony. We decided to do it over Columbus Day weekend, the two year anniversary of our first in depth discussion and the real beginning of "Bennie and the Jet."

The ceremony was simple and sweet. We wore jeans and Cub sweatshirts. We had a stranger take pictures on my iPhone. We stood in front of the Pond. We exchanged brief vows. We hung crosses around each other's necks. Mine was solid. His was hollow. Mine fit perfectly into his to make one. Pastor Chris pronounced us married.

When it was over, Pastor Chris hugged us both and thanked us for including him. He left, and we were officially married and on our own. I looked at Luke.

"I feel totally different."

"I know."

"I didn't think I would."

"Me, either. But, I do."

We walked back to our hotel to change for dinner at Il Cantinori. While we were changing, I asked Luke if he wanted to consummate our marriage. He said yes, but suggested we wait until after dinner, so our first time wouldn't be rushed. I suggested we skip dinner.

"Patience is a virtue, Bennie Boy."

"I'm kind of fixated on vice at this point."

Luke walked to me, put his arms around me, and whispered "me too" while kissing my forehead. "But, I want this day to be perfect. Let's go to dinner. We'll have a great meal. We'll drink a bottle of wine. We'll walk hand in hand back here. We'll slowly undress each other. We'll make love for the first time. And, then we'll fall asleep in each other's arms, for the first time as husbands." He made it sound perfect.

We did exactly what Luke wanted. Dinner was fantastic, but we ate lightly. Neither of us wanted to feel bloated after. The wine was interesting. It was the first time either of us had tried alcohol. Both of our houses were dry. We were both drunk.

We sauntered back to the hotel. Luke thought we should let the anticipation build as high as we could.

Once in the room, Luke undressed me first. He kissed every piece of my body that he bared. He took me in his mouth for the first time.

"Stop," I whispered, "or I won't be able to." He didn't stop, and neither did I. I finished in his mouth. My first blow job was way more than advertised or expected.

It was my turn. I tried to mimick him. I kissed every part of his body that I bared. I took him in my mouth. It was easier than I had expected. He was hard but soft and warm. He moved in rhythm with me, warned me that he was about there, and then filled my mouth.

We moved to the bed. Luke was flat on his back, and my head was on his shoulder. I tickled his chest and stomach.

"What did you think?" I asked.

"It was better and easier than I expected."

"I thought so, too."

"We're going to do that a lot."

"I'm glad."

We groped and kissed each other until we were ready again. We had done a lot of research online, so we had the right stuff for the next step. And, we had a plan for him to ready me for penetration.

Still, it was much more difficult than we had expected. No matter what we did, penetration seemed impossible. I wondered if Luke was just too thick. He was sure based on our research that he wasn't, but we just couldn't make it work. We gave up, laughing, and decided to try again the next day. We finished each other again with our mouths. We fell asleep wrapped up together, married men.

It took time and work, but we made love for the first time the following morning. Luke took me first. I was on my stomach and physically uncomfortable, but mentally thrilled by the idea of what was happening. Luke didn't last long, collapsing onto my back when he finished. He buried his face in my hair and then kissed my neck and shoulders.

"Oh my God, Ev. That was awesome. You're not going to believe how good it feels."

I didn't. I finished as soon as I got all the way in, while Luke was trying to adjust to me. I apologized to Luke, and he assured me there was no apology necessary and that we'd get better at it. We did.