Refugees by Kim Fielding

Author:Kim Fielding [Fielding, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Tin Box Press
Published: 2020-05-11T16:00:00+00:00

4

For an hour or so after Martin left, Walter dozed lightly. A really good orgasm did that to a fellow, especially when it was his second in one day. But with Martin as his partner, he was fairly sure he could manage a third. That thought plus the early hour were enough to keep him from slipping into deep sleep, and eventually he got up and had a quick wash, wrapped himself in a blanket, and read by the warmth of the woodstove.

He was still reading when a soft knock sounded and the door creaked open. Martin crept in, his hair and jacket damp. “You’re awake.”

“Waiting for you, I guess.”

Martin’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. “That’s a nice thing to say.” He hung his jacket on a hook and bent to untie his shoes.

“Did you finish your chores?”

“They weren’t exactly chores.” His shoes removed, Martin stood and bit his lip. “Walter, we have to—”

“Talk. I know. But tomorrow. Please? I want….” He couldn’t say it out loud. But he wanted so badly for Martin to make love to him and spend the night, and he was certain neither of those things would happen if Martin had his talk.

“I don’t like being dishonest with you.”

“You’re not. It’s… delayed honesty, is all. Just give me tonight.” He looked at Martin beseechingly. Walter had learned during the war that you could never take the next day for granted. Hell, you could never take the next hour for granted. More than once he’d been talking to a guy, maybe chatting about baseball or movies or where to get the best pizza in Chicago, and minutes later, that man’s lifeblood had spattered Walter’s uniform. And if now was all Walter had, he wanted to enjoy it.

Martin eyed him closely. “All right. As long as you understand that I’m not what I seem.”

Walter didn’t know what to make of that, so he shrugged dismissively. “Nobody is.” He stood, allowing the blanket to drop and reveal his naked body. Then he held out his arms.

That night Martin treated him like a precious thing, carefully preparing him for penetration. Too carefully, really, because eventually Walter was reduced to babbling pleas. When Martin finally slid into him, they stared at one another like men visited by a divine revelation. “That’s… that’s….” Walter couldn’t find a word for how it felt to have Martin filling him.

Martin just nodded, wide-eyed. “I don’t understand why you don’t do this all the time.”

Walter laughed. Had he ever laughed during sex before? Not that he could remember. Other partners might have taken offense, but Martin laughed with him—at least until he began to rock his hips, and then the laughter shifted to moans and whimpers.

In the dark afterward, their legs entangled beneath the blankets, they stroked each other’s skin and talked softly of small but important things, like Walter’s childhood memories of chasing fireflies and the fierce neighborhood games of baseball he’d join with his brothers. Like Martin’s thoughts about maybe getting a dog and the peace he felt when sitting in the woods.

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