Chapter 10 – Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

We spent the afternoon in the pool, re-playing "Stare Into Your Eyes," frolicking, and otherwise feeling the contours of new love. We smiled so wide I thought our faces would crack. We laughed so hard I feared the neighbors might call the police.

By the time we were finished with dinner, I was exhausted. We were on the porch, not talking, just sitting beside each other, holding both hands, his head on my shoulder, and my head on his.

"James?"

"Yeah."

"Can we go to bed?"

"Together?"

"Together."

Luke stood up, took my hand, and walked me to my room. Watching each other, we undressed to our underwear and climbed into bed. Luke was on his right side, his right hand near his face. I was on my left side, and I took his right hand in mine. I held it for awhile, listening to each of us breathe.

"Luke, should we talk about what's happening?" I asked, disrupting the peace.

"I dunno," he answered. "Seems pretty obvious to me."

"Are you okay with this?"

"I think so. I dunno. I've never really been in this situation. But, I've wanted to be, ever since I can remember."

"Tell me what you remember," I urged.

"Well, I guess the first thing I remember was I just never fit in with the other boys in school. I didn't like what they liked. I didn't talke about what they talked about. When the Harry Potter movies came out, all the boys in school went on and on about Hermione. I much preferred Harry. Then, High School Musical came out, and the same thing happened. The boys were all about Gabriella and what they'd like to do to her. I didn't want to do anything to her. I'd have picked Troy over her any day. Everything I wanted to do was to Troy. Since, it's been Tony in Jarhead, almost every guy in the Hunger Games, and now Max from Fury Road. It ain't never been a girl. I suspect it never will be."

"Did you ever tell anyone?"

"No way. It'd have been all over for me. I was already on the outside lookin' in. I'd have been on the outside of the outside, lookin' over the folks who were lookin' in."

"You're regressing. Use your Gs. And avoid 'ain't.' Who were your letters to?"

"Oh, just some other boy."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"No. He lived in Idaho. I found him online at the library. We wrote back and forth. It was all 'here's me' at first, but then it got to be a little more. He wrote me a letter about what he wanted to do when we finally met. I loved that letter. I could see it all as I read it. I wrote him back and told him what I wanted to do when we finally met. I could see that, too. I was just guessin', though, as I didn't really know what two boys could do together. My mom found his letter and sent me away, I got this tattoo, blah blah blah, here I am."

"Did you ever hear from him again?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. He may've answered my letter. If he did, it wasn't in our house when I got back from White Plains. And, all evidence of him was gone, including his address."

"Did you ever try to find him again?" I asked, a little heartbroken.

"No. I should've. But I didn't. I was afraid of getting caught and throwed out."

"Thrown out."

"Right. Thrown out."

I traced over the backwards words on his chest with my forefinger. He tensed as I did.

"I was kind of that way," I said. "I knew from very young I was different from the other boys. I thought girls were hot and got excited when we got our hands on a Penthouse or a Playboy. But, I also thought boys were hot and got excited when my friend Jason changed in front of me or stayed over in his underwear. I finally asked if he got excited the same way, and he said 'no' and 'it wasn't normal.' It felt normal to me, though."

"Did you stay friends?" he asked. I wanted to say "yes," it didn't matter, he was cool. But, I couldn't lie.

"Kind of, but not like we were. He definitely stopped staying over and stopped asking me to stay over. We only hung out in school."

"How'd you wind up married?"

"Pretty easy. I thought if I could be with girls, then I should. It was just easier, and I didn't want a harder life. And, Jess was awesome. I think I'd have loved her no matter what."

"I don't think I could ever be with a girl. I just don't think it'd work for me. I can't even imagine it. It's never done nothing' for me."

"Anything for me . . . . Some people are like that. Some people are just the opposite. And, some people are closer to the middle."

"Like you?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at me.

"Yes, like me," I answered. "I was happily married to a woman. And I could be happily married to a man."

"Do you think you'll ever get married again?"

"To anyone or to a woman?"

"To a woman?"

"No. I don't know why, but I don't think I could do that to Jess. It would seem disloyal."

"This doesn't?" he asked, taking my tracing hand into his and holding it firmly against his smooth, muscled chest.

"Not yet."

"Do you think she knew?"

"No. We worked for me, and I'm pretty convincing when I need to be."

"I ain't," he said. "I can't trick anyone. I never learned to."

"Come on, Luke. It's 'I'm not,' not 'I aint'. And, of course you're not. You seem utterly without guile."

"Whatever that means."

"Straightforward. Not manipulative or phony. Direct. Honest. Open."

"Probably," he answered. "Maybe that's why the other soldier's call me Rube, when they're not calling me something else."

"What's the something else?"

"I ain't saying."

"Ain't ain't a word," I corrected, tired of all the backsliding that was occurring as we rested next to each other the bed I had last shared with my wife.

""I'm not saying. Some things are better left unsaid."

"No one in the Army, either?"

"No one in the Army, either, what?" he asked.

"To whom you're attracted and vice versa?"

"Nah, I ain't . . . . I'm not interested in that. I want to be a soldier. I'm not going to let anything cloud that up."

"I hope I don't."

"You won't. You know the old saying," he rejoined. "'Out of sight, out of mind.'"

I'm sure he didn't mean them to, but his words stung me. I removed my hand from his chest and fought back the tears I could feel building in the corners of my eyes.

"It's really late," I finally mustered. "We should probably get some sleep."

"You sure?" he asked, as if more, or some alternative, should be coming.

"I'm sure," I answered. "Good night, Guppy," I added, rolling away from him and curling up on my right side.

"Good night, James," he answered, shifting in the bed until I felt his back to me.

I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what. Against my will, I drifted off before I could think of anything. I slept peacefully and untroubled.

I was suprised when I awoke behind Luke, whose small frame made him a perfect little spoon. I was immediately self-conscious, as I was sure he could feel me pressing against his backside. I tried to pull back a little, but Luke stopped me.

"Don't move. I'm really comfy."

I reached my arm through his and pulled him in tighter against my chest. I kissed the back of his head.

"The hair on your chest tickles my back."

"Want me to put a shirt on?" I asked.

"No. I like the way your skin feels. And I like the tickling."

I pulled him in even tighter and buried my face in his hair. He locked his fingers in mine over the top of my hand. I matched the rhythm of my breathing to his. I didn't want it to, but sleep drifted back over me.

I again slept peacefully and untroubled. I awoke to a summer storm, rain pouring down and thunder rolling across the darkened sky. I was alone. I smelled coffee and heard the sweet sound of Jess's grand piano.

I rolled onto my back, propped my hands behind my head, and revisited the past seventy-two hours. I couldn't help but smile at the happenstance of it all. Incredibly, impossibly, we had drifted toward and found each other.

I smelled my hand to see if I could smell Luke on it. I couldn't .

I thought of trying to fall back asleep, but decided instead to follow the music to Luke.

I stopped in the doorway to the formal living room and gaped as Luke — in one of my dress shirts and his underwear — tickled the keys to what I believed to be Rachmaninoff. He was very accomplished, which shocked me as much as if I had seen Christ himself riding a bicycle. Considering what I had seen of his home, I wouldn't have expected Luke to have encountered a piano, much less conquer one. I thought back to his exposition on being a soldier and how easily he had taken to it, and I wondered if the same wasn't true for the piano.

"You play beautifully," I offered, when he finally stopped and looked up.

"Long fingers," he said, holding his hands up to show me.

"Play on."

"I can't. I'll be too self-conscious. I only got that far because I didn't know you were watching."

"How did you learn?"

"We had a piano in my grade school. My feet were too big, and I was clumsy. So, at recess, I played the piano while the other kids played outside. I loved it from the first note I struck."

"You're a marvel."

"I'm not that good."

"Not at the piano. In life. Every time I think I have you figured out, I realize I don't. At all."

"I'm no mystery."

"You are. You seemed to have an unhappy childhood, but you constantly grin. You claim not to be learned, but you're certainly astute. Your home and parents do not suggest an accomplished pianist. Every revelation is a marvel to me."

In response, Luke just shrugged and smiled. I couldn't tell if it was a shrug of agreement, disagreement, or admission.

We took our coffee to the porch. When I looked up from the paper, Luke's forehead and nose were pressed to the screen door. He must have felt my eyes on him, as he turned to me as I watched him.

"I like storms," he said, answering an unasked question.

"Me, too," I said, settling on the floor in front of where he had sat. Luke returned, sat behind me, and put his hand in my hair and twirled it between his fingers.

"You're wearing my shirt," I observed.

"I hope you don't mind. I needed to get up, but I liked being against you. So, I borrowed your shirt."

I have no idea if Luke knew how romantic he sounded. I am a sucker for romance. My breath caught in my throat.

"I don't mind at all," I croaked.

"Your hair is long," he observed, nonchalantly.

He was right. It was throwback hair, like Thyago Alves in "David's Birthday."

"I know," I answered. "I've had no reason to cut it for awhile. I don't shave much, either."

"I don't have to. And, I've never had long hair."

"Come down here," I said, patting the space between my legs. He did, settling back against me. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight.

"What do you want to do today, Guppy?" I asked.

"This."

"Me, too," I answered, kissing the side of his head and then nibbling on the top of his left ear. He squirmed.

"That tickles," he cried.

"Good," I whispered, nibbling harder.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked.

"I think you can tell me anything."

"I've never kissed anyone. Not a real kiss, I mean."

"Good," I answered. "Then you won't know how bad I am when I kiss you."

"Are you going to kiss me?"

"I hope so."

"Me, too."

I could have kissed him right then and there. I wanted to, but it didn't seem right. And, I couldn't muster the courage. I got close, but my courage was evanescent.

I tickled him instead. He squirmed hard, spilling his coffee and rolling away from me onto the floor.

"I don't like being tickled."

"Well . . . then . . . that's too bad," I answered, pouncing on him and tickling him some more. By the time I stopped, he was balled up and out of breath. I collapsed behind him, pulled him to me, and buried my face in his neck. I smelled his smell, which was mostly the smell of orange guest soap.

Sated, I stood up, held out my hand, and pulled him up. I raised his chin with my thumb, so we were again staring into each other's eyes. I exposed myself as much as I could.

"I really like you, Luke Rydell."

"I'm glad. Because I really like you, too, James whatever your last name is."

"You don't know my last name?" I asked, a little incredulous.

"No, I don't think so."

"It's Walton."

"I definitely didn't know that."

"That's disappointing and interesting."

"Maybe," he answered.. "But, I really like you, too, James Walton."

I bent down and kissed his forehead. "I'm glad," I whispered. "I really am."

I pulled him into me, burying his head under my chin. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight. We stayed that way long enough I knew he had to feel me thickening against his stomach. When I pulled back, I ran my hand down his arm and through his hand as I headed to the kitchen to make steak and eggs for breakfast. We ate it at the island, in our underwear. We held hands as we ate. Neither of us said much; we just smiled.

Over breakfast, I decided Luke's last day of leave should be one of pampering. I called and talked our way into a 9 a.m. appointment at Bijin. Over the next three hours, we received hot stone massages, facials, manicures, and pedicures. Before we separated for our facials, I told Luke not to shower when he was finished.

"We'll clean up at home."

"Okay," he answered, innocently.

As we drove home through the rain, I asked Luke what he thought of the treatments.

"They were alright. But, I like when you put sunscreen on me better," he said. When I looked at him, he winked at me. I winked back.

Back home, I gave Luke Jess's robe and told him to go upstairs, get undressed but for the robe, and wait for me to call him down. When he raised his eyebrow at me, I answered "Just do it."

I made a plate of cheese and opened the best bottle of wine I had, a 2009 bottle of Sequoia Grove Cambium that I had received as a 30th birthday gift from Sam and Kyle. I put Adele's Pandora station on the surround. I dumped way too much Philosophy 3-1 into the tub and started the hot water. I lit all the candles I owned and arranged them around the edge of the tub. By the time the bath was ready for Luke, it was teeming with bubbles.

I slipped my boxer briefs off and wrapped myself in my robe. I turned out all the lights in the bathroom and called for Luke from the bottom of the stairs. I held my hands over his eyes as I guided him through the bedroom and into the windowless bathroom. He put his hands on mine as he walked.

"Wow, this is really beautiful," he said when I peeled my hands from his eyes and showed him what I had done for him.

"It's for you," I said. "I'm going to give you some privacy. Just call my name when you're settled in."

"I don't need privacy."

"You sure?"

"I am," he said, removing the robe and handing it to me. I wanted to look down, to see all of him, but I resisted. I did, however, watch his backside as he climbed into the tub. It was round and creamy white.

"I thought maybe I'd join you, if that's alright."

"It is, I think."

"Close your eyes." He did. I placed both robes where we could reach them and slipped into the tub.

"Okay, I'm in," I said.

The tub was massive. I thought it impractical and would never have put it in, but it came with the house, and it turned out Jess and I used it far more than we expected, just like this. I didn't mention it to Luke, but I was operating from memory.

Even in the massive tub, our legs and feet had to touch. Over the next hour, I massaged Luke's feet, re-filled our wine glasses, ate some cheese, and periodically added hot water as Luke and I played a game Jess had taught me. She called it "Bullet Points." To play, all you had to do was provide bullet points about yourself to the other person. I explained the game to Luke and then started.

"My birthday is July 10. My middle name is Michael. I have three older brothers. I love baseball and golf. I love books. I love love love Arrested Development, especially the first two seasons. I hate snakes. Your turn."

"Let's see. My birthday is August 27th. My middle name is David. I'm an only child. I don't love baseball. I've never golfed. I don't love books. I don't know what Arrested Development is. I don't hate snakes. Your turn."

"You don't have to answer mine. You can tell me whatever you want me to know."

"Oh, okay."

"Alright," I started again. "My favorite color is red. I picked my college in part because the school color was red. My favorite movie of all time is 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.' I used to watch it with my dad, just him and me, while sitting on his lap. My favorite book of all time is 'Peace Like a River.' I read it once a year. I like your moles. You're the first person I've touched since Jess died. I've never kissed a boy. Your turn."

"This is hard."

"Just tell me whatever you think of about yourself."

"I feel like I've already told you all there is to know."

"You haven't."

"Okay. I wish my mom and dad were different. I wish my childhood was different. I wish I knew more stuff. I've never kissed anyone, boy or girl, but I told you that already. I can't believe I'm taking a bath with you. I can't believe what's happened the past couple of days. I like the hair on your chest. I dont' like being tickled, but I like being touched. Your turn."

"I, too, wish your mom and dad were different. I wish you had had a great childhood. I did. I fought and played hard with my brothers. We're really tight now. I had good parents. I went to good schools. We had lots of money. Still, I was often lonely. I knew I was different, but I wasn't quite sure how or why. I had no one to talk to about it. I miss my wife. She drew me out. Your turn."

"My favorite color is green. I love being a soldier, but I told you that already, too. My favorite movie of all time is Mad Max: Fury Road. I'll tell you why later. I like to read. My favorite book of all time is "Winter's Tale." I've never met anyone else who liked it. I like flowers. I always have. I used to pick them out of the neighbor's gardens, even after I got in trouble for doing it. I don't like my hair long, but I also don't like haircuts. They make me itch. I can't grow a beard or a mustache. I hate my ears. Your turn."

"I like your ears, but you know that already. I have a confession to make. This was less an accident than maybe you think. When I saw you in the airport, I couldn't look away. I moved around to be closer to you. I helped you with your bag to be closer to you. I didn't come back to the airport because I'm a good person. I came back because I wanted to know you. I'm glad your family stood you up. Your turn."

"I'm not dumb. I knew what you were doing. At least I thought I did. That's why I talked out loud in the line. I wanted to see if you'd turn around. I was thrown off by your wedding ring. I throught maybe I was wrong about what you were doing. I dont' read people very good. I like how tall you are and the fact you don't shave or cut your hair, it's the opposite of what I'm used to. I've never had a pet. I want one. I've never had a real best friend. I want one of those, too. I love berries, but not the ones with seeds. I like malts, but not shakes. I was excited when you came back to the airport. I'm glad my family stood me up, too. Your turn."

"I'm a little obsessive. My food can't touch. I eat each thing separately. My pictures have to be straight. The screws in my switches and outlets all have to be perfectly straight. I own three or multiples of three of everything. I sometimes feel like I'm 30 going on 50. I don't make friends easily. I don't smile easily. I don't like my teeth. If Jess had lived, I think I'd have told her I'm attracted to men, too. I hate onions. I'm an onionist. I drink too much. I'm nervous about what's next. Your turn."

"Me, too. But, I think it's time for that kiss you promised me."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. I don't want to turn 21 and never have been kissed."

"I want it to be perfect."

"It will be."

I slid toward him, sure to keep most of me hidden beneath the bubbles. I moved in front of him and braced myself against the edge of the tub. I lowered my face and lightly touched my lips to his. I felt tingly all over.

I was stunned when he raised his hand and rubbed the lobe of my ear between his thumb and his forefinger. It was not the move of one who'd never been kissed.

I opened my eyes to find his eyes open. I smiled as he did. I broke the kiss.

"How was it?" I whispered.

"Perfect."

"It was."

"Do it again."

"Okay. This time, open your mouth when I do. I'm going to use my tongue. You should, too."

I kissed him again. Until I couldn't wait any longer, I kept my lips closed and kissed his lips as gently as I could. When I couldn't wait any longer, I slowly opened my mouth. Luke did the same. I gently touched the tip of my tongue to his. I felt tingly all over again.

I slowly pushed more of my tongue in his mouth and kissed him hungrily. I wanted to devour him. When I was out of breath, I tried to pull back, but he followed me. I pulled him with me into the middle of the tub, our movements slopping water over the edges. When we stopped, he was in my lap, our bodies slick against each other. I put my arms around him, and he put his arms around my neck. I could feel him against me. I'm sure he could feel me against him. We kissed and kissed and kissed, sometimes clumsily, always hungrily.

We kept kissing until the water was cold and as we struggled to our feet and climbed out of the tub. We wrapped ourselves in the robes and kissed again before heading to the bedroom.

We climbed under the sheet, still a little wet. We faced each other. We were wandering without a map.

We spent the afternoon kissing. Every time I thought I wanted to move my mouth elsewhere, I felt compelled to return it to his. I felt like one of the boys in "Two Boys Kissing."

"Are you okay?" I asked, for like the fiftieth time.

"Yes. Now stop asking me. If' I'm not, I'll tell you."

We kissed and kissed and kissed some more, sometimes hungrily, sometimes softly.

After I don't know how long, Luke said, "Okay. I'm not okay anymore."

"What's wrong."

"My stomach hurts. Really bad."

Mine did, too. I was as blue as a boy could be.

"I can help you with that, if it's okay."

"It is."

Greenlighted, I rolled Luke onto his back and propped myself on my elbow next to him. I continued to kiss him as I moved my right hand to the middle of his chest and let it rest there before moving it to his side, to his stomach, and to his thigh. I felt like Adam in "Ronny and I," tentatively exploring Luke's body with a single hand.

I continued to kiss him as I moved my hand between his legs. When I cupped his scrotum in my hand, he moaned into my mouth. When I wrapped my hand around him, he gurgled. I had only myself as a referent, but he seemed large for such a small body. It was like his feet and hands, way bigger than it should have been.

I kissed him as deeply as I could as I started to move my hand up and down on him.

"Is this okay?" I whispered into his mouth.

"Yes," he whispered back. "It feels so much better than when I do it."

I kissed him more deeply as he grunted, arched his back, tensed, and finished. I kept kissing him as I swrirled my finger through the evidence of what I'd done to him. He shuddered as I did.

I used his fluid to lubricate myself. I kept my mouth on his as I did to myself what I had done to him. I am, as I said, slow to go, so it took longer than it should have before I, too, finished. I grunted into his mouth as I did.

Remembering his shudder, I asked "Are you cold?"

"No."

"Then what was that shudder?"

"I dunno."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"As okay as I've ever been."

"Me, too."

I moved my mouth back to his. He shimmied under me and pulled me onto him.

"I'm heavy," I warned.

"I like heavy."

We kissed and kissed and kissed. He moved his large hands from my face to my back, spread his legs, and hooked his heels behind my knees.

I raised myself up on my arms and pulled my mouth from his. I stared at him, and he stared back at me. He grinned the grin of Gate E5, joyously wide. I grinned back, ecstatic.

I felt like I was hurtling through the barrel of a wave. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and — in a deviation from all that had come before — I didn't care whether I knew how to do it.

"Lie still," I urged.

"Why?"

"You'll see."

I moved my mouth from his face to his neck, over his chest and stomach, and down past his groin to his legs.

I licked his feet.

I sucked his toes.

I licked the inside of his calves and thighs.

I slid my tongue along the union of his legs and pelvis.

I licked his scrotum.

I slid my tongue along the underside of him.

Nervously, I took him in my mouth. For some reason, I expected it to feel or taste gross. It didn't. At all. It felt smooth and silky. It tasted like the rest of him.

It was also easier than I had expected. I did what I had enjoyed. I swirled my tongue around him. I went down as far as I could. I used my tongue on the underside of him. I pulled up and then slowly went back down. I heard a faint "Oh my God." I felt him squirm and then tense. I knew he was not going to last much longer. I sped up. When I felt him thicken, I went down as far as I could. I heard a gasp as I felt warm liquid fill my mouth. I swallowed and kept going. I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to. I didn't stop until he shuddered.

I kissed my way back up him. I hovered over him and kissed him.

"How was that?" I asked.

"Better than I imagined it could be," he gasped through ragged breaths. "How was it for you?"

"Also better than I imaginged it could be," I said, smiling and meaning every word. "Roll over."

He did. I kissed every mole on his back, his backside, and the backs of his legs. I licked the bottoms of his feet. I covered his body with mine, held his hands, and placed my cheek against his. I could have fallen asleep, just like that.

"James?"

"Yes."

"You're crushing me."

I rolled off of him, and he rolled off the bed. I looked at him, naked, for the first time. As in his jeans and his underwear, he hung a little to the right. He had little hair anywhere, including in his crotch.

He covered himself with his hands.

"I've had it in my mouth," I said. "I think I can look at it."

"It's making me self-conscious."

"It shouldn't. You're beautiful."

"Stop saying that."

"You're beautiful, Luke Rydell. Beautiful beautiful beautiful."

He shut me up by pushing me onto my back, scrambling over me, and sitting back on my hip bones. His face turned serious.

"How'd you know what to do?" he asked.

"I didn't," I answered. "I just did what I wanted to do."

My answer was only partially true. I had also watched and re-watched (and, to be truthful, re-watched and re-watched and re-watched) a Hancock video involving a gymnast named Bron. Bron claimed both to be straight and to be unable to "go" from oral sex. It took Mike Hancock a long time, but he was able to prove Bron's claim wrong. As I watched and re-watched, I wanted to be Mike way more than I wanted to be Bron. And, I had seen the video so many times, I thought I could initiate every move Mike had made.

Luke reminded me of Bron. Both were short (Bron was only 5'7") but big (I could not find details on how large Bron was, but he was definitely disproportionately large) and virtually hairless.

"Well, I don't have nothing to compare it to, but you seemed to know what you were doing."

"It's easier than it seems."

"I hope I'm good at it."

"You will be. . . . You're beautiful, by the way, sitting there like that, all wide eyed and innocent."

"I told you to stop saying that."

"I know, but I can't."

"I don't feel very innocent. And I'm about to feel even less so," he said, lowering his head to my chest and licking my left nipple. He didn't know it, but there was a direct line from my nipples to my groin. I twitched when he started gently sucking.

He clumsily kissed and licked his way through my chest hair and down the trail that led to my pubic hair. I spread my legs and pulled them up, bent at the knees. He pulled me up with his hand and paused.

"You dont' have to, Luke."

"I want to. I'm just not sure how."

"I'll enjoy it no matter what."

He tentatively licked my glans. I shook with joy.

He looked up at me and smiled that smile that made me smile. I cautioned him. "I'm going to apologize in advance. It usually takes me a long time." In that way, I was like Bron, who took forever in that video to "go." Whether with Jess or on my own, my orgasms built very slowly, and — even when they were right there — sometimes struggled to crash through. It was a benefit at times (e.g., when I was with Jess and bringing her home first) and a detriment at others (e.g., when I was on my own and wanted a quick release).

"I'm pretty sure I have as much time as you need," he said. "As you know, I've got nowhere to go," he added, chuckling to himself.

I felt the warmth of his mouth around me. He stayed still, like he was dipping his toe in the water and deciding whether to dive in.

He dove. His mouth slid down. I cringed with restraint. It was all I could do not to put my hand on the back of his head and force him all the way down.

I lasted too long. I could tell when his jaw was tiring. I added my hand and moved it in rhythm with his mouth, trying to speed my orgasm along. Ultimately, he pulled off, taking a deep breath and working his jaw back and forth.

I kept going. As Luke watched, I reached into the nightstand and pulled out the fleshlight I had ordered about six months after Jess died. I spit in it and then slid it down over me. As I worked it, Luke placed his hand over mine. We worked it together.

When I finally warned him I was close, he pulled the fleshlight off and finished me with his hand. He kept at it long after I had finished on my chest and stomach.

When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me.

"That was hot," he said. "Watching you finish like that. I've never seen that before."

"Come here."

"In that?" he asked, a little incredulous.

"Yes," I said, grabbing him under the arms and pulling him down on top of me, smearing my fluid between us. I kissed the look of surprise off his face and kept kissing him until I could feel he was ready again.

"Straddle me," I insisted. He did, moving his knees under my arms. I took him in my mouth again. I used my hands on his hips to move him in rhythm with me until he did it on his own. I added my hand to him, as I had to myself, and let him control the speed. He held onto the headboard and used it for leverage.

Luke gasped as he finished and slumped over me. I again kept at him until he shuddered. He sat back on my chest and looked down at me.

"Wow," he said.

"Yeah . . . . Wow," I answered.

"I had no idea what I was missing."

"Sex is awesome. It shouldn't be so taboo."

"Does my, you know, taste bad?"

"You mean your cum?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I can't."

"Please."

"Okay. Cum. Does my cum taste bad?"

"No. It's a little strong, but the thrill of knowing what I'm doing for and to you is stronger. I like it."

We moved to the shower. I washed him with my bare hands, kissing him all over as I did. There was not a cranny or nook on his body that my fingers and hands did not explore.

When I was finished, he returned the favor. I had to kneel so he could wash my hair, my ears, my face, and my neck. He seemed nervous as he washed my crack and then my crotch.

When we were clean, I wrapped my arms round him and held him under the water. We slowly rocked back and forth, dancing to whatever was on Pandora, slippery and aroused, but happy.

I pulled back, looked down, adjusted my height, and took us both in my right hand hand. Forehead to forehead, we watched my hand move back and forth.

"Stop moving your hand," he whispered. When I did, he started working his hips back and forth. I did the same, sliding in and out of my hand and along the top of him.

"We don't seem normal," he said.

"How so?" I asked, wondering if he was experiencing pangs of guilt at being with me.

"They say normal is about six. We both seem bigger than that."

Whew, I thought to myself before asking "Haven't you ever measured?"

"No. Have you?"

"Of course. Every man has. Except you, apparently."

"How big is it?"

"Just over 8. But, I'm a big man. It'd be weird and look weirder if it wasn't big, too. You, on the other hand . . . " I stopped and looked down, holding only him in my hand. "You're too big for your body."

"I know. I always have been. Luckily. It gets me respect in the barracks."

"I bet."

"They call me 'Donger.' That's the other name. The one I wouldn't tell you. They say it's from an old movie. There was a Chinese guy named 'Dong' or 'Donger.'"

"Sixteen Candles."

"That's the one. Every once in awhile, they joke 'We need to get Luke laid. The Donger needs food.'"

"I'm not going to call you 'Dong' or 'Donger.'"

"Good. I like Guppy a lot better."

We kissed again. While we did, I reached back down and stroked us together.

"That feels really good," he said.

He was right. It did.

"I'm getting close again," he said.

I kept going. I could feel Luke's orgasm move through his shaft. After he grunted and finished against my abdomen, he urged me to keep going and to finish, too. We kissed and kissed as I continued to work myself. We were running out of hot water by the time I finished, my back against the marble tile as Luke watched, rapt.

We rinsed the evidence away and exited the shower. I dried Luke, and then he dried me. As he dried my lower legs and feet, he took my soft penis in his mouth. As I started to harden, he maneuvered me against the vanity and started going at me with vigor. When he added his hand to the shaft, I added my hand to the back of his head and used it to control the speed.

This time, he lasted longer than I did. When he started to slurp, it took me over the edge. "I'm coming," I warned. He pulled off, and I sprayed over his right shoulder onto the tile floor.

"Sorry," he said. "I chickened out at the last minute."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Luke. That was incredible."

"I should have finished the job."

"You did. No complaints here. Seriously."

We were hungry. We slid into shorts and headed to the kitchen. We kissed over and over as I made spaghetti, and we kissed over and over as we ate it. We couldn't stop kissing each other.

We left the mess and went back to bed for dessert. We revisited the afternoon. We were side by side, but at opposite ends. I took him in my mouth. He took me in his. We were each moving our hips, sliding in and out of each other's mouths. Every time I thought "it can't get better than this," it did.

At 2 a.m., we found ourselves in the pool, swimming some of the mess we had made off of us. To my astonishment, Luke started singing "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey . . . ." He wouldn't stop, so I buried my tongue in his mouth. As we kissed, he kept humming. If my neighbors had tried to determine what was going on, they'd have seen Luke and me, nude, kissing, and dancing in the moonlight slowly to Elizabeth Mitchell's simple song. As we did, the cicadas serenaded us. From the left, they would sing until it reached a din. When they were finished, the same would happen from the right. Back and forth they whirred, one group answering the other, the two of us in the middle.

Long after Luke stopped humming, we remained the same. My arms were around him, and his arms were around me. My body was pressed to his, and his was pressed to mine. We were slowly shifting back and forth, trying to make everything last longer than we could.

For the first time since I could remember, I felt free. All I had been taught washed away, leaving only what I felt and wanted. And all I felt and wanted was right in front of me in the form of Luke David Rydell, Private First Class.

We danced to the absence of music. We danced to the absence of strictures.

Whether we could or should, neither of us let go. Everything seemed too fragile, like one false move might shatter everything.

"What are you thinking?" he asked me.

"Me? I'm thinking about how awesome this is and how I lucky I am. I'm so happy."

"Me, too," he answered. "I can't believe this is happening."

"It's like a movie."

"It's like a song."

"Remember yesterday, when we were under water?" I asked.

"Of course."

"I wanted to kiss you more than I have ever wanted anything."

"I wanted you to kiss me more than you wanted to kiss me," Luke answered, smiling at my expression of want and then disappearing into the water. I went under after him. When I caught him, he pulled me into the deepest kiss he could. We kissed until we were at risk of drowning, stopping only to surface and gulp air.

We slept little that night. By the time the sun came up on the 21st, I had explored every inch of Luke's body with my tongue. I had learned what made him giggle and what made him writhe. I also learned that, despite his isolated upbringing, he was deeply trusting, willing to make himself as vulnerable to me as possible.

As the morning wore on, we were in the shower again, having delayed for as long as we could the departure for the airport. Luke was again in front of me, and I was watching myself slide in and out of his full lips. I didn't think I could come again, but then I felt the hint of a surge and concentrated until it was sweeping over me. I warned Luke, but he kept going, letting me finish in his mouth for the first time. I doubled over as I did, exhausted and spent. Luke swallowed and let me go soft in his mouth.

"Was that okay?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered. "I don't know what I was afraid of. You taste fine."

When Luke stood, I kissed him. I could taste myself on his tongue.

"Hey, Guppy," I finally said. "I want you to know something. I want this to be a beginning, not and ending."

I thought I saw the suggestion of tears in his eyes. "Me, too," he answered.

"So, we can keep in touch while you're active?"

"Yes, so long as I'm not deployed overseas. Overseas, we don't have phones or any other way to keep in touch, other than old school pen and paper."

"Then don't get deployed."

He smiled at me. "If it was up to me, I wouldn't go back."

"Come on," I answered. "You're a soldier. A great soldier. Go back. Do what you do well."

"I don't want to leave you," he confessed.

"I don't want you to leave me," I confessed back. "But, you have to. We'll make it work. It'll be easy," I lied.

"It won't," he answered, wisely.

"I know. But, we'll make it seem easy."

His face seemed uncertain. I'm sure mine did, too. So, I resolved the uncertainty by repeating "we'll make it seem easy" and lowering my mouth to his and kissing him as deeply and as passionately as I could. I can't speak for him, but the kiss washed away all my uncertainty and fortified my resolve. It had taken me forever to find Luke. There was no way I was going to let him go.

I told him. "I waited a long time for you, Guppy," I said. "I can wait a while more."

He met my admission with an E5 grin. It was the grin that made me grin. Before we stopped ourselves, we were both laughing. In retrospect, I think we laughed to avoid crying.

As we dried off, my avoidance ebbed, and I started to cry. Not a sobbing kind of cry, but a soft cry of slow, steady tears. I was surprised. I had thought I was all cried out after Jess's funeral.

"Why are you crying?" Luke asked.

"I think I'm crying out of happiness."

"I know. I feel the same way. I want to cry, but not out of sadness. Out of "oh my God happiness'."

I held him against me, his head under my chin. Before I let go, I pressed my lips to the front of his head and tried to pour as much affection as I could through my lips into him.

We dressed in silence. As we headed to the garage, I stopped Luke, spun him around, and pinned him to the car door with a kiss.

"I think we need to go," he huskily whispered.

"I need this more," I said, pulling his shorts down, lowering his briefs, and taking him one more time in my mouth. I used my hands to move his hips in rhythm with my mouth.

"Oh my God, Jimmy," he called out, filling my mouth yet again. I swallowed and went down as far I could. I loved the feeling of him in my mouth, sated and spent. I loved more that he had called me Jimmy, only the second person for whom the word seemed to fit in their mouth.

We drove to the airport in silence. About halfway there, he took my hand in his.

"This right here," he said. "This is why Mad Max: Fury Road is my favorite movie. It took all the courage I had to hold out my hand to you. I was so happy and relieved when you took it."

I looked at him and smiled. He winked at me, and I winked back. I almost blurted "I love you," but I held myself back. I'm not sure why.

I stopped at the curb, helped him with his rucksacks, and waited for him as he checked them. I then held him for as long as I could, squeezing him as tight as I could. I didn't want to let him go.

I released myself. I kissed his temple and whispered "I love you, Guppy" in his ear. I wasn't sure he heard me, but I didn't care. I was thrilled to have said it.

"I have to go," he conceded.

"I know," I answered. "Be safe," I added, way more vulnerably than I intended.

"You, too."

I watched him walk toward the door. Turn around, I thought to myself. Please turn around.

He did. Just before he entered the terminal, he stopped, turned around, grinned his E5 grin, and raised his hand. I raised mine back, also grinning.

He mouthed "Bye" and I mouthed "Bye" back. He disappeared through the door, and I turned, walked to the driver's side, and climbed into my car. I was checking my side mirror to pull back out when I heard a knock on my passenger's side window. Assuming it was the parking police, I barked "I'm going" as I turned to see Luke, squatting and smiling through the glass.

"I love you, too, Jimmy," he mouthed, silently through the glass.

I was too stunned to move. He put his hand to the glass, leaving a print. I started to reach for his hand, but he turned and was gone in one swift move. He made his way through the crowd and into the terminal. I had no choice but to leave.

I grinned all the way home. It was a huge grin. It was a grin I'd have noticed sitting at a an O'Hare gate.

When I got home, I went through my room and started a bath. I wanted to relax and soak the prior days in.

As I turned from the tub, I saw a message in soap on my bathroom mirror. It read "Please wait for me." Beneath it, I saw Luke's dog tags piled on the vanity between the two sinks. I knew he hadn't forgotten them. He'd left them for me. I picked them up and draped them around my neck. I pressed them to my chest.

Grinning as widely as I ever had, I walked to my phone, which I had left on the charger. I knew Luke was in the air and would not get my text until he landed. Still, I needed to answer his message. I stole it and texted "I feel like I waited for a long time for you already. I'm happy to wait longer."