A to Z - 65. Chapter 65 Taken Away

Entry for April 1, Saturday, continued…

We were married. Father Brewer had said the words, pronounced us bound to one another forever.

And now it was time for us to leave the church, to end the party, and let this wonderful, tumultuous, day come to a close. Somebody – probably Frank, the practical joker – had arranged a final touch.

Toby Harris had Eustace's truck waiting in the rain at the curb in front of the church. He would drive us home. Down the stairs we went. I yanked the door to the old truck open. We turned and waved to our friends. And then I slid in on the bench seat, taking the center spot, leaving Zander the window.

Toby slammed the driver's door shut and revved the engine. "Buckle up, boys," he smiled. "Time for the honeymoon."

As we drove away, I noticed a pitifully small crowd – okay, a group – maybe half a dozen people – who must have been the prayer protestors on the corner of Main and the park. It looked as if their vigil had been mostly washed out. I almost felt sorry for them. Almost. I know what it's like to be out in a cold rain all night.

"Where are we going?" I asked Toby, once we had turned onto Main. We were clearly pointed out of town.

"Now, you don't really think I can tell you that, do you?" Toby smirked. "That would spoil the surprise."

"Yeah, but we don’t really have any of our stuff," Zander put in.

"Don't worry," Toby said cheerfully, "it's all taken care of. Your bags and stuff are in the back, under the tarp."

Our bags? Who had packed for us? And where were we going? Not that Toby was going to tell us.

Toby directed a glance past me. "Hey, Zander, I really don't think we had a chance to meet. I'm Toby Harris. I help out Eustace at the farm every now and then."

Zander leaned forward. "So you know Andy from last summer?"

"Yup," Toby nodded, gazing out past the wipers lazily clearing the mist off the glass. "Met your boyfriend at the feed store. Called himself Eric back then. Eric, Andy, it's all the same to me. You got lucky, he's a good one." I felt Zander slide his fingers through mine. "Charmed the pants off a girl last July the Fourth," Toby smirked.

"Really? Is that so?" Zander looked at me with raised eyebrows. "A girl?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I muttered, flushing.

"You know, Andy, Maddie keeps asking where you went. Wants to know if that cute boy Candace found for her turned up again," Toby teased.

"Yeah, well, it's not like anything happened. I met her that night, and her boyfriend decked me for hanging around," I said.

Toby snorted. "Hell, Andy, he wasn't her boyfriend. Maddy couldn't stand Donny Anderson. He just wanted something he couldn’t have. And you," he laughed, "you were the one boy Maddie never got." Toby shook his head. "When Eustace called up and gave me the news, I laughed so hard I had to sit before I fell down."

"You don't care about us being gay, then?" I asked quietly.

"Hell, no. Wouldn't be here if I did," Toby replied firmly.

Toby drove through the darkness and talked – kind of like the way Kaz talks when he runs. We reached the interstate, and headed south. Where was Toby taking us? The old truck's tires on the roadway played a soothing kind of lullaby. I tried to focus, but with the tension of the day leaking out of me, and the champagne at the party, I started feeling drowsy. I snuggled into Zander and soon felt his head resting on mine.

And then I didn't remember anything for a while.

I woke up when the note of the engine changed. Toby was pulling off the highway at an exit.

"The old girl needs some gas, and I need a pit stop," Toby said cheerfully, watching Zander and me regain consciousness. I had no idea where we were or what time it was.

Toby pulled the pickup into a truck stop and halted by a set of brightly lit gas pumps.

"I'll fill her up, you all go stretch your legs, or whatever," Toby said.

Zander and I got out, yawning. My mouth was horribly dry, and I needed to use the restroom. I took a second to look around. I froze. A half dozen big rigs were parked off to the left of us. Ever since last fall, I get really edgy when I'm anywhere near an eighteen-wheeler. I tried to look over the enormous tractor trailer combos carefully, searching for Roger Green Hat's huge silver blue Freightliner. I didn't see one, but I still couldn't relax much.

"Come on," I heard Zander say, motioning towards the convenience store just ahead of us. "I'm getting chilly out here."

I nodded. We'd be safer inside, too.

Once through the glass doors, I looked for the men's room and ducked in. I finished my business quickly and headed out. Nothing threatening. Nobody else in the place. I found Zander looking at a display of snack food and other junk. When he reached out for a bag of chips, I almost stopped him. I thought about how much I had spent on road rations in places like this over the past year or so. Too much. I just shook my head.

Zander must have sensed what I was thinking. "What?" he asked, mystified, chips in hand.

"Nothing…It's just that…they're not healthy, you know?" I concluded lamely. I didn't want to come off seeming, well, cheap. But everything in a place like this was too expensive.

"Right. Cake, chocolate, cheese, champagne – now that's what I call a healthy supper," Zander laughed.

I couldn't help smiling back at him.

"I'm getting some water," he went on, "you want one?"

My pride said no. My parched mouth said yes. My mouth won. When Zander paid for his chips and our waters, we got a strange look from the tall, gangly looking guy behind the counter. It wasn't until we went outside that I figured out why.

JUST. MARRIED.

We returned to the truck, where Toby was finishing up filling the tank.

"Be right back, guys," he said. He headed inside to use the facilities.

Zander and I got back into the cab; we tried to get settled. A plastic crinkling sound meant the chips were opened. I uncapped my bottle, pushed up the little nozzle, and flooded my parched mouth. That was very good. I still wondered where we were headed.

I watched idly as another big truck pulled into the stop. Then I looked at the rig more carefully. My heart stuttered. I stared at it in the glare of the lights, horrified.

Silver blue. Freightliner.

No way.

I shifted anxiously. I prayed Toby would hurry.

"You okay?" Zander asked, picking up on my tension.

I gestured with my head toward the new arrival. "Over there. The big silver blue truck."

That was all I had to say. Zander took one look and understood. Then his arm went around my shoulders. "It's all good. Nothing's going to happen. It's probably not him."

I cocked a disbelieving eye at Zander.

"Look. There's two of us against him. Three, if you count Toby."

"He carries a gun, Zander," I whispered.

"Carried a gun," he corrected. "You swiped it, remember? And I'll bet he's more afraid of you than you are of him."

I didn't buy that, and said so.

"You just don’t remember it from his point of view," explained Zander patiently. "You're not just the kid who got away. You're the one who broke out from being totally tied up; you're the kid who got his clothes back; and you're the one who stole his gun. For all he knows, you're still armed and looking to get him back."

I considered that for a moment, watching all the while.

Moments later, a stooped figure appeared from around the big rig. Headed toward the mini mart. Green Hat. No mistaking him. Somehow, he looked smaller than I remembered.

For some reason, Roger looked up when he got to the glass doors. He spotted the old pickup. We were plainly visible inside. His eyes narrowed, examining us.

Maybe Zander was right. Maybe I didn’t have to be afraid anymore. I stared right back, face expressionless.

Green Hat's eyes widened in recognition.

And he took a step backwards. At that moment, Toby came out the swinging glass doors and bumped heavily into him. Off balance, Roger Green Hat fell to the ground; Toby tried to help him up, but he scrambled to his feet and ducked inside the store, looking furtively over his shoulder as he did so.

See why I love Zander? He's so smart. He knew, even if I didn’t.

Toby entered the cab shaking his head. "Wacky truckers," he said, dusting himself off.

I was happy to leave the truck stop, anyway. But I was surprised when Toby didn't return to the interstate. Instead, he turned right, driving down a dark two lane highway I'd never seen. He seemed to know where we were headed, but in the dark and mist, I was clueless.

I spoke into the glow of the dash lights. "No chance you'll tell us where we're going?"

"Nope," he replied, grinning.

I watched the road, hoping for a clue of some kind, but the pavement just wound its way blindly across the countryside. We motored past darkened houses and farms, through little villages, and over stolid steel bridges of the kind I'd crossed by the hundred last summer.

Idly, I wondered if this were some kind of prank, where we'd be dumped off somewhere and have to find our way back. I'd heard of stuff like that before. Was that the kind of thing Frank Stevenson did?

The miles passed beneath our feet as the tires rolled. I began to get sleepy again. Zander nodded off, but I managed to stay awake.

We crossed a small bridge, and Toby turned right, paralleling a small river. Within a mile of the turn, I got the feeling I knew where I was; within two, I was certain. I'd walked this road at night a number of times. Last summer.

When I anticipated a left turn up a steep hill on our left, Toby spun the wheel and up we went. The crafty devil. Toby must have taken a really unfamiliar route back to the farm.

But we never reached the farm. About three quarters of the way up the hill, Toby hauled on the wheel and turned left again, up a steep dirt track leading up into the woods. It took me almost a minute to realize where we were headed.

Zander was wide awake by now and looked at me with wide eyes as the headlight's beams jounced and bounced wildly while the truck navigated the winding, rough, rutted road. Toby shifted into low gear and the engine whined, pulling us up the hillside. Suddenly, the road leveled off, and we reached a clearing.

Eustace Whitley's hunting camp.

Toby stopped the engine. "Everybody out," he cried out cheerfully. "Welcome to the Honeymoon Hilton."

We tumbled out of the truck. I smelled rain, and forest, and wood smoke. And it was completely quiet. Toby pulled the tarp off the bundles in the back and drew a suitcase, my backpack and a cardboard box out of the truck bed.

"Your luggage," Toby grinned.

"What is this place?" Zander asked.

"The Whitley Palace Hotel," Toby answered grandly. "You want a tour?"

"No, that's okay," I said.

I knew this place well enough. It was rough, but perfect. A place for Zander and me. And nobody else.

"The key is where it usually is," Toby said, "the bed's made, the propane tank is full, and there's plenty of food in the fridge. The cooler is full of water, so that should hold you. The outhouse is as clean as it ever gets," he went on, chuckling. "Eustace is staying on in Blackburn until Sunday with Ambrose and Cheryl. I think it's the first day of vacation he's had in years. Candace and I are up at the farmhouse if you need anything, or if you get lonely. But I don't think you will," he smirked.

I threw my arms around Toby and hugged him. That surprised him, I think. "Thanks, Toby. This is a fantastic idea."

"Hey, it was Eustace's idea. I just made it happen. And it couldn't have happened to a nicer pair of guys, really," he replied. Toby turned to my boyfriend. My husband. "Nice meeting you, Zander." They shook hands. "Take care of Andy, all right?"

Big smile on Zander's face. "Oh, yeah. Count on it."

Toby got into the truck and fired up the engine. Rapidly, he backed it around and pointed it back downhill. But he stopped and unrolled the window. He must have forgotten something. "Eustace said to tell you that he doesn't want to see you two until Sunday noon. I guess your folks will be coming by to pick you up around then."

I nodded and waved, and Toby began the slow descent to the main road. The taillights disappeared quickly, and we were left in the misty darkness.

I shouldered my pack and picked up the box. "Come on," I said to Zander, moving out of the rain onto the porch. He picked up the suitcase and followed. A little groping in the porch rafters yielded the key; a moment later, we were inside.

I'd been here before in the summer. I’d cleaned it out and later spent some warm summer evenings hanging out here before going back to my hay bales in the barn. I'd never stayed overnight here; I was always too scared that I'd be found out somehow.

Inside, the big windows looked out on darkness. There was almost no light, but the cabin was toasty warm. Whoever had laid a fire in the wood stove knew their business. It had to have been Candace. An electric lantern hung on a hook by the door, another stood over near the wood stove. If I remembered right, there were a couple of kerosene lamps somewhere, too. I turned the switch on the electric lantern, and there was more light; enough to see by, anyhow. Zander took a turn about the big room, checking things out.

To my left sat a little three-ring propane burner that Eustace called the "camp stove." A tall insulated ten gallon water cooler stood on the trestle table next to it. I peered inside the fridge – powered by propane – and found it had been well stocked with basics, as Toby had said.

In the far left corner stood a little square table and some plain wooden chairs. A metal basin rested on the table. I remembered from last summer that a rocker sat on the porch. I wondered if it was still there; I hadn't seen it.

"Where does this door go?" Zander pointed to a latched door on the back wall.

"There's a back porch where there's a wood pile, and beyond that is the outhouse," I replied. I'd put most of the wood there myself, come to think of it.

"Outhouse?" Zander made a face.

Near the bed, some towels and washcloths hung neatly on a rough kind of wooden rack.

Our bed consisted of a wide raised plank platform with a three inch foam mattress on it. Someone had thoughtfully covered it with a couple of big flannel-lined sleeping bags; an old down comforter and several pillows completed the bedroom suite.

It was nice and cozy. At least, as long as the fire in the wood stove still burned.

"So, what next?" Zander spoke aloud the question that had been pinging in my mind since we arrived.

I knew what I wanted next, but I hesitated. Now that Zander and I were alone, I felt unsure of myself. Shy.

Coward that I am, I put it off. "Umm, I think I want to see if the nice person who packed my backpack included a toothbrush."

I sat down on one of the two old wooden chairs by the table and unzipped my pack. Clothes. I'd look at them later. Unzipping the front pocket of the pack, I discovered a tiny tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, and something else.

Condoms. And a much larger tube of something that made my face flush. I didn't pull them out, but my fingers determined there were at least six square packets. As calmly as I could, I refilled my water bottle from the cooler's spigot, put some toothpaste on my brush, and headed to the back door.

"I'm going to the outhouse," I said quietly. I grabbed the lantern by the back door and went out into the damp, chilly night. I crossed the little muddy yard, and then followed the short path through the trees to the privy.

I've been in worse – much worse since a year ago – but a privy is a privy. Getting cleaned up out there the way I wanted to was kind of challenging. And cold. Brushing my teeth was the easiest part.

Coming out of the privy, I could see the light in the cabin shining dimly through the trees. I left the light hanging on the outhouse door latch, so Zander could see where he was going when it was his turn. Cold rain dripped off the bare branches; I was suddenly glad of my new hoodie.

I stepped inside and found the space brighter. I untied my now muddy boots and left them by the back door.

"I worked on the fire while you were gone," Zander said almost bashfully. Was he feeling it, too? "And I opened the doors and put up a fire screen I found, so we can have some firelight," he continued, smiling faintly. I could see he had added a lot more firewood to the stove. Already the flames were catching on the new fuel.

"Your turn," I said grinning back. "It's not bad – early in the year, I guess. You can take the light if you want."

Once Zander left the cabin, I was alone in the firelight. I wondered what to do. What would he want? I fidgeted doubtfully. Maybe Zander would feel too tired for anything more than cuddling. Maybe he needed to sleep. It had been a long, long day, and it was late. I paced across the room and sat on the chair; then I rose and seated myself on the bed. I was nervous as hell.

The door rattled and opened. Zander was back, this time with both lanterns.

"Whew. It's wet out there," Zander said. He copied me by leaving his shoes by the door. At least the cabin wouldn't get too seriously muddy.

"It's nice in here," I answered. "Thanks for rebuilding the fire."

I felt unsure. Shy. I wondered if Zander felt that way, too.

Zander placed his toothbrush on the suitcase and sat down next to me on the bed. He smiled his wonderful smile and looked into my eyes. He brushed a stray lock of hair back away from my face, but his hand remained, stroking my cheek. I trembled a little.

"Hey, A. Guess what?"

"What?" I whispered.

"We're married," he grinned hugely, the sun coming out in the darkness.

I couldn't help but smile back at him. "Yeah. How about that?"

"How does it feel?" Zander teased.

I leaned forward to take his lips with mine. "Like this."

I wanted to tell him how awesome, amazing, and exciting it was to be married to him; to be his, and his only. How elated I felt that we finally managed to be alone, on our own. That we could be as we wanted to be, what we needed to be for each other. That we could make love to one another.

But I had no breath for that. Our kiss took everything I had. Tongues rediscovering each other's mouths, hands roaming backs and necks, bodies molding to one another, all mine and all his. And when Zander pushed me over onto the bed, and our mouths finally parted, I was gasping as if I’d run here all the way from Blackburn.

I watched as Zander rose and pulled off his sweatshirt and the layers underneath in one motion, exposing his flawless torso. When he leaned over me to resume our kiss, I gripped him and rolled him over, with me on top this time. I kissed his face, his jawline, his neck; I needed to explore every inch of him, every curve and ridge and crease.

I felt his fingers dive under the beltline of my jeans, running over my ass. I welcomed his touch. No demons appeared to chase him away; it was exactly what was meant to be.

Now it was my turn to rise; but when I sat up to pull off my hoodie, Zander came up with me, fumbling with my buttons, pushing up on my tee. He wanted to feel my skin as much as I wanted his.

And then I was on Zander again, chest to chest, my skin rubbing deliciously on his, our mouths locked together again. I just can't ever get enough of Zander's kiss. But sooner or later, we had to stop for a moment. Our lungs insisted. I rolled off to the side.

"Are we going too fast?" Zander asked, panting, looking earnestly into my eyes. "Is this okay? I don’t want to rush you."

This is the kind of thing that makes me love Zander. Even when he was getting aroused – and I could definitely feel he was aroused – he stopped to think about what we were doing and whether I was okay with it. And I really was.

"It's fine," I said, returning his gaze, trying to reassure him.

And to prove the point, I reached down to unbuckle his belt and get him unzipped. We still had way too many clothes on. Zander responded by just pushing down on my belt; he shoved my pants down, slowly shoved them over my hips, and my briefs went with them. I struggled to get everything down and all the way off, so to free my ankles.

And then it really was glorious, all bare, nothing hidden. We embraced again. Just that much was mind blowing, wrapped up in one another, kneading muscles and grinding together and stoking our desire.

Zander rolled me onto my back, kissing and licking and pushing me down into the covers as he lay between my legs. I could have let him do that forever. But I needed more.

"Please," I heard myself say, "please, Zander. Stop."

Immediately, Zander rose up on his arms, all concern, looking into my eyes for signs of panic.

"Please. I want…I want…" I had trouble forming the words. "Please…Make love to me, Zander."

His eyes softened and his smile returned.

"You sure?"

Despite myself, I snickered softly. The damned question again. "Yeah, Z… I'm sure," I breathed.

And Zander smiled at me. "All right."

I know that I am one of the most fortunate people on the planet. Zander didn't rush into it. My husband – my infinitely patient and gentle lover – let us take all the time in the world.

Turned out that he'd gotten a tube of lube in his suitcase, too, and he'd stashed his under the pillow. He lay down next to me and squeezed some lube onto his fingers. He kissed me softly.

"I've done some reading and stuff…a lot of it…but...you know I've never done anything like this," Zander blushed uncertainly. "I'm a complete virgin…You have to tell me if something hurts, okay? Promise me. I don't ever want to hurt you," he whispered in my ear.

"Okay," I nodded. It was all I could get out.

Zander pressed up against me; the heat of his hard cock against my hip felt like a new piece of steel. He murmured words of love and encouragement between every kiss. I nearly whimpered when I felt a finger trace the length of my erection. Down, down, down it trailed, probing, searching for my back door. I shivered when he found the target; I felt him massage it gently with his lubed digit, pressing tenderly against the ring of muscle there. It felt so good, what Zander was doing, so good.

I tried to protest when his lips left mine, but then the heat of his mouth was on my nipple, flicking and licking, and I could only arch into the pleasure. And still, Zander just patiently massaged at my opening, waiting, helping me relax, whispering how much he loved me.

I lifted my leg to give Zander easier access; I was inviting him in, but I'd been robbed of speech with which to tell him so. He kissed down the center of my abdomen. His lips kissed my tip, and his tongue lapped over my head; my involuntary cry was cut short as I felt the slick pad of Zander's finger press in past my outer ring and slide inside. There was no pain, none at all.

I'd done this much to myself before – in the showers last fall after Zander smiled at me, and in the secrecy of my closet hidey hole in the school library after I'd watched Zander swim – back when all this was just an impossible fantasy – but what Zander did now was so much better. I could feel him sliding in, exploring me, feeling his way around inside.

Zander kissed the length of my shaft while his exploration continued. When his long, lovely fingers brushed against a certain spot inside, a rush of sensual electricity coursed through me.

"Ooohh," I let out a moan, "oh, that's good."

"Like that? I think we found your sweet spot." He pressed at it again.

Soon Zander had me squirming on the soft bedcovers, bucking my hips to drive his finger in deeper. I felt his rod pressed up against my flesh, leaking and needy; knowing Zander wanted me too only added to my happiness. I whined when I felt his digit withdraw. I panted a moment, eyes closed, trying to recover some breath.

But not for too long. I felt fingers at my portal again, and Zander's lips on mine, briefly. "This is so fantastic, A," he murmured. He was breathing almost as hard as I was. "Just relax, now, okay?"

I nodded and reached for his lips again.

And then there were two fingers breaching my ring. This time I felt the bite of pain; a bit of burning and a kind of ache as the muscles strained against the intrusion. But Zander distracted me with his kiss, with the hand that snaked around and beneath me and held me fast. And the pain soon faded against the sensation of being caressed and explored, fingers scissoring inside me, opening, stretching, relaxing, pleasuring.

I tried to push myself down on Zander's hand, tried to impale myself on the source of pleasure steadily building inside me.

"Please…Zander, please…I want it…" I practically begged him.

I felt him stop, his fingers still. Zander bent his forehead down to touch mine. I was amazed to feel it damp with sweat. I thought I was the only one, but he seemed out of breath, too. "Okay, Andy…okay…but if anything is bad, if anything hurts, tell me and I'll quit, all right?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

I spread myself wide for him, open and ready. Zander maneuvered himself between my legs; he scooched up close, my legs draped over his hips. He leaned forward, propping himself on one arm above me as he reached for something; I heard the crinkle of packaging.

And I made a decision, then.

"No, don't," I said, as clearly as I could.

Zander looked down at me: worry, compassion, concern and, yes, disappointment, all there in his face. "You want to stop? You don’t want to do this after all?" he asked, breathless.

My heart melted. Even then, Zander would have stopped for me.

"Oh, I want to," I tried to reassure him, "but…I don’t want to use one of those things. We don't need one."

A slight frown knit his brow. "But everyone says…"

"I know what they say. But you're all virgin, and even though I'm damaged goods, I'm clean…" I never got to finish.

Zander leaned forward and kissed me then, fiercely. "You are not. Damaged. Goods," he growled, "You're amazing, and gorgeous, and gutsy. And I love you exactly the way you are." And he kissed me again, hard.

He twisted around to grab the tube from beside his knee.

"Give me that," I said in answer to his quizzical look. "Please. I want to do it."

Zander watched, fascinated, as I squeezed out a glob of lube onto my hand. I heard his sharp intake of breath when I grasped his iron penis and slicked it down, stroking it lovingly several times. Just doing that made me hard with anticipation.

"Andy, you gotta stop, it's too much," he groaned.

I added another big gob of stuff to my fingers and swabbed it around my opening; I remember wiping my hand on my leg awkwardly.

Zander leaned forward and positioned himself at my entrance. I knew he was bigger than his fingers had been, and I felt a nervous shiver. "Okay, Andy. Remember, if it hurts, I can stop," Zander whispered.

I nodded and felt Zander press himself against me. There was a moment's resistance, maybe two, Zander's features a study in concentration in the flickering light of the fire. Then my body yielded to him, and he was in; my breath caught with an audible cry at the sting of pain. Zander held still, his crown just wedged inside me.

"You okay?" he whispered. I could feel him vibrating.

I wondered if he could feel me trembling, too. I nodded.

I felt Zander push a little, sliding himself in another inch. My body protested at the stretching; I tried to relax, tried to let it happen, but it was so hard. Deep breaths. I remembered my own research about this – deep breaths. Zander leaned down and kissed me again, caressing my lips, softly, tenderly, with his own. He was so patient, so gentle. When my tension eased again, he rocked in a little more. Again my body clenched, my breath hitched. More kissing. And so he slowly, carefully, wonderfully worked into me: push, tighten, kiss, repeat.

And then came the moment. "I'm all the way in now, A," Zander whispered, kissing me tenderly.

We were fully joined, finally whole. Zander had filled me up, and while there was a little pain, I mostly felt the pressure of accommodating him inside me. I could feel the heat of Zander's cock lodged deep within, and that sent a buzz of electricity up my spine. We lay there a while in the dancing firelight, nuzzling and kissing, and getting used to being welded together like this.

And then Zander flexed his hips back, pulling out, experimentally.

There was no pain, now, just the discomfort of losing him, of emptiness. A moment later, he pushed back in, making me whole again. I groaned appreciatively. He did it again. This time, Zander's cock made contact with my prostate and I nearly convulsed in his arms. My cock went almost painfully rigid; I cried out as a burst of pure pleasure radiated from my core. I wanted more of that.

I angled my hips and wrapped my legs around him to make Zander hit that spot again. And he did, over and over again, slowly, deliberately, tenderly. How Zander managed that degree of self-control, I'll never know.

"A, it's so good, so good, love you so much," he murmured into my ear as he rocked my world with every thrust.

In answer, I could only grasp him tighter, my hands gripping his back, kissing his face, his neck, his shoulder, any part of him I could reach, lost in the unbelievable joy and pleasure of possessing and being possessed; of loving and being loved.

Zander increased his pace, and I urged him on; his murmurs of love and encouragement sounding more insistent, less clear now.

I felt an irresistible, unstoppable wave of pleasure building deep inside. I knew what was coming, but was powerless to stop it, even if I had possessed the will to do so. I tried to warn Zander, but I don't think I made a coherent sound. His hips flexed and drove me over the edge; I cried out as I came, my vision blinded by the flash of ecstatic bliss that shook my body.

And somewhere, at the edge of my awareness, I sensed Zander, head buried in my shoulder, calling out my name, his pulsating heat spreading out inside me.

Eventually, our cooling bodies brought us to a happy, drowsy kind of consciousness. I felt blissfully content; boneless and infinitely happy. Zander and I were still joined, barely; dozy and entwined with one another. I never wanted to let him go. I felt him stir on top of me.

"Hey, A. You all right?" I heard Zander whisper.

I turned my head to his, ran my fingers through his lengthening hair. I kissed him lazily, sleepily. "Way, way, way beyond all right, Z."

He kissed me back, his lips lingering softly on mine.

"I'm gonna get us cleaned up, okay?" He rose, and I think I whined as he left my body.

I felt empty without him.

I could barely keep my eyes open. I heard water pouring into the metal basin. A washcloth sloshing.

"Sorry it's cold," I heard Zander, speaking low. Then he gently, soothingly wiped and cleaned me off with the soft, cool cloth.

"Come on, let's get under the covers," Zander nudged me.

Groaning, I sat up. I threw back the sleeping bag and slid inside, with Zander slipping in right beside me, pulling the covers back over us. We swiftly re-entangled ourselves; Zander partly sprawled over me, holding me close.

"I love you, Zander," I remember saying to him before my eyes closed again.

And I felt him kiss me, "Love you, A."