Walter’s breath caught. “Yeah. God, yeah. But not if you don’t—”
“I do.”
Chuckling, Martin stepped across the floor, the wood creaking a bit under his barefooted tread, and retrieved something from his jacket pocket. When he returned, he held the object for Walter’s inspection. “Will this do?” It was a little jar of Vaseline.
If Walter hadn’t been excited already, that mundane little container would have done the trick. It meant this was really going to happen. He was truly going to fuck— No. He was truly going to make love to this amazing man. And Martin, his hand shaking a little as he held the Vaseline, seemed as excited about the prospect as Walter was.
Walter took it from him, then wrapped an arm around Martin to pull him closer. His skin was warm. “I want you to remember this for a long time,” Walter said. “When I’m gone, when you find someone for real, I don’t want you to regret this.”
“You don’t have to—” Martin stopped himself, sighed, then nuzzled against Walter. “I won’t regret this.”
Enough talking, Walter decided. He wanted another kiss, then another, and in the process he and Martin somehow made their way to the bed and tumbled onto the colorful quilt. Much better than a forest floor. And as they moved their bodies together, gasping and groaning their pleasure, it seemed to Walter as if nothing in the universe mattered except making Martin happy. God, if Walter weren’t such a mess, he could find enough purpose in making Martin happy to get them both through the rest of their lives.
With the help of the Vaseline and a lot of encouraging strokes, Martin opened up beautifully for Walter, and by the time Walter entered him, they both nearly sobbed in relief. Martin lay on his back, his ass supported by a pillow and his ankles hooked over Walter’s shoulders. Walter began to thrust, slowly at first and then with more vigor, while Martin clutched desperately at him. Although the very physical connection between them felt better than anything Walter could remember, what truly electrified him was the intensity of Martin’s gaze, which never left Walter’s face. Walter was inside Martin’s body, but Martin was inside Walter’s soul. The joy of the moment was tempered a bit with Walter’s knowledge that nothing would ever be this good again—not once he left Kiteeshaa.
Walter’s skin tightened and his nerves sang. “T-touch yourself,” he panted. He would have liked to stroke Martin’s cock himself, but he needed both hands to prop himself over Martin’s body. Besides, watching Martin would be as good as touching him.
Martin’s skin was flushed across his face and down his chest, and his curls had become even wilder than usual. He grinned and shook his head. “Rather touch you.” He was as breathless as Walter, and to emphasize his point, he rubbed his palms along Walter’s forearms.
Just a few more thrusts and Walter’s body went spinning ecstatically through space. “Martin!” he shouted.
Martin answered with a cry like ringing bells—a sound more celestial than human—and Walter could have sworn Martin’s eyes glowed like ice on fire.
When Walter’s strength left him, he collapsed onto Martin, not minding the sticky heat of Martin’s semen. Martin gently petted Walter’s back, soothing him as if it had been Walter’s first time.
“Thank you,” Martin whispered.
Walter was going to object—he was the grateful one—but Martin silenced him with a deep kiss.
Eventually Walter rolled to the side and Martin cuddled up against him, threading his fingers through Walter’s hair. “You’re sad again,” Martin said. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No! God no! That was… that was a gift. Best anyone’s ever given me.”
Martin leaned in to press his lips to Walter’s cheek. “Then what’s wrong?”
“I don’t deserve what you just gave me.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you could see yourself the way I do.”
Walter shook his head. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not as fully as I’d like to, but I know enough. I like the shape of you.”
Glancing down at his body, Walter shrugged. “I look okay, I guess.” His blocky body carried muscle easily, even when he didn’t do much physical work. The rest of him was unremarkable.
“That’s not what I mean. You’re handsome enough, but I was talking about…. Your language doesn’t have a word for it. It’s the… the feel of you. Your true self. Your essence.”
Walter contemplated that silently. He’d never given much thought to his inner self. Before the war he’d assumed it was as unexceptional as the rest of him, and since then, well, he figured it was a charred and twisted ruin. But Martin looked at him as if Walter was worth something.
Martin propped himself on one elbow to look down at Walter. “You don’t know me either. What do you think of me, Walter?”
“You’re beautiful,” Walter answered promptly.
“Is that all? Would you like me less if this weren’t my true face?”
“I don’t understand.”
Martin stared gravely at him. “I haven’t been honest with you. I—”
“Don’t.” Whatever truths Martin was about to utter, Walter didn’t want to hear them. “Let’s just have this time together. Please? We don’t need honesty when I’ll be gone in a day or two.”
“But why leave? You can stay here.”
“And do what? I’m pretty much broke. I can do construction, but you guys don’t need that—everything here’s in tip-top shape. I’ve worked at factories, paper mills, driving a truck, things like that. But you don’t need that either. I can’t—”
Martin touched a finger to Walter’s lips. “We don’t care about jobs, Walter. We do what makes us happy, we share what we have, and we all have enough. What’s important to us is who you are, not whether you earn money.”
“You’re communists.”
“Communists!” Martin laughed as if the accusation was a funny joke. “No, no. We simply…. Our priorities are different. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Too many of your people define themselves—or judge others—by their occupations. That’s as bad as falling in love with someone just because he looks nice.”
“So I get to hang around indefinitely and leech off you just because you think I’m a swell guy?”
“No.” Martin’s voice was soft. “We want you to join us and share what we have because we know you’re a swell guy. Special.”
Walter wished he could believe any of this. Hell, maybe he would have turned out well under other circumstances. His teachers said he was smart, and he got good grades. Without the war, with parents willing to pay for college, maybe he’d have gone to medical school like he dreamed about when he was a kid. But his parents had figured the family business was good enough for him, and the Army had killed his passion for medicine by forcing him to attempt to reassemble war-torn men.
“Would all your buddies still want me around if they knew where I was right now?” Naked in bed with one of their own.
An odd smile flickered across Martin’s face. “They’d be happy for us both.”