Lightning on the Water - 1. Lightning on the Water

The motor coughed a few times before it shut down.

“Damned motor,” Kevin cursed. He’d taken the old thing apart and put it back together so many times he could do it with his eyes closed, but he couldn’t get it to stop doing that. It was probably time to get a new motor.

“Have to remember to have Old Bob take a look at it when we go back to the mainland. Damned thing’s going to strand me out here one day.”

“I still can’t believe you live on an island in the middle of a lake,” Matthew laughed as he stepped out of the boat and onto the dock. It was an old dock; it looked like it was falling apart and some of the boards were missing.

“Why not? It’s cool,” Kevin replied as he tied the boat to the one post that looked sturdy enough to keep the boat from floating away. “I don’t have to worry about neighbors complaining that my music is too loud or looking in the windows while I’m walking around naked. And the crime rate is really low; don’t even have to lock my doors at night. You can hear anyone coming from any direction.”

They were heading up the dock, carefully stepping over missing and questionable boards. Matthew shook his head and his long blonde hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back with an automatic gesture that never failed to hit Kevin right in the groin. “From the looks of things, anyone coming out here to steal anything would probably end up leaving you something out of pity.”

The house didn’t look much better than the dock, but he’d been working on fixing it up. But before Kevin could say that, Matthew stopped short, turned and stared at him, a huge grin on his face.

“Wait…you walk around naked? All the time?”

Kevin grinned and stretched up and gave Matthew a quick kiss. “Pervert,” he laughed, grabbing a handful of Matthew’s hair and tugging lightly. “Of course I don’t walk around naked ALL the time. Gets fucking cold here in the winter. Wouldn’t want things to freeze up and fall off.”

The sound of the motor brought him out of his memories.

“You can hear anyone coming from any direction.”

He didn’t have to look to know which direction the boat was coming from—or who was in the boat.

He stood up and set the beer he had forgotten he was holding down on the kitchen counter. He heard the motor cough a few times before it shut down. It had always done that. Even Old Bob, who’d been Dead Bob for years now, hadn’t been able to fix it. Kevin’s lips twitched slightly. The damned old thing was still running, though. Had outlived two boats. Funny how it had ended up in Matthew’s boat now, when it had started out in his and had spent most of its life in theirs.

Kevin stood at the edge of the dock as Matthew bent over to tie the boat to the post. They had fixed the dock years ago, shortly after Matthew had officially “moved in.” No more missing boards. No more questionable boards. Kevin felt a dull ache in the pit of his stomach as he watched Matthew brush the hair out of his eyes. It wasn’t long anymore, but it still fell into his eyes when he moved a certain way.

He wondered if Jason appreciated that gesture.

“Didn’t you bring Jason to help you?” he asked as Matthew walked toward him. He looked behind Matthew, as if expecting to see another person suddenly emerge from the boat—even though it was obvious it was empty.

Matthew looked at Kevin and half sighed, “No, but there’s no point in going over that again."

No, there wasn’t really. He had seen him and Jason in bed together, in their bed. Jason had been fucking Matthew like there was no tomorrow. Was funny, really, Jason fucking Matthew. Matthew always liked to be the one on top, the one doing the fucking. Or so he had always thought. Maybe he had really wanted it the other way, though. Maybe that’s why he had been with Jason, to get something he couldn’t get from him. Except he could have and did, whenever he had wanted him to. But maybe it hadn’t been good enough. Maybe he just hadn’t been good enough.

Kevin clenched his fist and winced. He’d covered that ground before. Over and over and over. But he couldn’t seem to stop. He couldn’t seem to stop wondering why, after 10 years together, Matthew had suddenly decided he wasn’t enough, that he needed Jason, too. Instead?

Matthew saw the wince and frowned. He’d noticed the cast. “What did you do to your hand?”

Kevin shook his head. “Nothing major. I broke it. It’s ok.” He’d punched a hole in the wall. He wished he had broken it punching a hole in Jason.

Matthew looked at Kevin as they reached the screen door. “How did you do that?” Kevin could have a pretty nasty temper, which he usually directed more at himself than anyone else. And he was also a bit dangerous to himself at times, tripping over things that were easily stepped over and bumping into things that he always swore jumped out in front of him.

“I packed your things,” was all Kevin said as they entered the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to. Especially with your hand like that. I would have done it.” Was Kevin in that much of a hurry to get rid of him? Probably. Not that he could blame him.

“I didn’t mind.” That was a lie. He had minded very much. It had taken him two days to pack everything. Two days to go through every drawer, every closet, every nook and cranny of the house and find things that were Matthew’s, his alone, not theirs. The first day he had sorted through their closet—and had held each shirt, each pair of pants—everything of Matthew’s he had found—against his chest and had closed his eyes and remembered.

The green plaid quilted-flannel shirt…he had bought that for Matthew when he had moved in, right before the first cold snap of October. You needed the quilted flannels out on the island in the Fall, unless you wanted to really layer up—which you ended up doing anyway, even with the quilted flannel, once Winter came. He had buried his face in the lining. It smelled like Matthew. It was so worn he should have thrown it away years ago—the flannel on the elbows was worn through and the collar was frayed—but Matthew always said it was his favorite. Kevin’s tears were in the lining now.

And the blue silk shirt—in that strange shade that changed from blue to green, depending on how the light hit it—that matched Matthew’s eyes so perfectly (they also changed like that)…they had both gone into the city to buy some “dress clothes” when Matthew’s sister had gotten married. He had a similar shirt in burgundy. They always hung side by side in the closet. Matthew’s didn’t fit him anymore, but getting rid of it was out of the question. They had said “words” to each other after Katy’s wedding, words that echoed Katy and Jim’s marriage vows. No one else had heard the words, but that didn’t matter. Kevin hadn’t packed that shirt. That belonged to his Matthew, not Jason’s. Jason would probably just throw it away anyway. It wouldn’t fit his fat, pig-like hide and he wouldn’t see any reason to keep something that fit no one. And what would Matthew care now? He had broken the promise made in the words that still clung to that shirt.

It had been at that point that he had punched the wall—and had broken his hand. It had slowed down the rest of the packing. But he’d been determined to get it done so that Matthew could just come, take his stuff and go.

He’d put everything in the living room, in front of the big sliding doors.

Matthew stopped when he saw the collection of boxes and suitcases lined up neatly by the door. He almost smiled. “Neatly” was putting it mildly. They were arranged by size and type and the boxes were labeled and…God!...were they in alphabetical order? That was Kevin. Anal retentive to the point that would drive someone who didn’t love him absolutely crazy. He did smile. It had never driven him crazy, though he had laughed his ass off the first time he had seen Kevin sort his M&M’s before eating them.

“There’s a lot. More than I expected.” Ten years was a long time, time to accumulate things.

“Ten years is a long time. Things add up.” Kevin echoed his thoughts. He reached down and picked up one of the suitcases.

Matthew frowned. “You can’t help me, not with your hand like that.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “I can carry the suitcases with my left hand, and if you put it up for me, I can balance a box on my right arm. I’m not a complete klutz, you know.”

The image of Kevin tripping over one of the loose boards on the dock and falling face first into the water flashed through Matthew’s mind. It had happened how many times before they had fixed the dock? Three? Four? His lips twitched. “No, not a complete klutz.” No, not complete. Kevin could dance like he was born with music in his veins, and slow dancing with him was a prelude to an orgasm.

“There’s no hurry. Just take the suitcases. I’ll take the boxes.”

Kevin nodded and Matthew picked up one of the boxes. It was labeled “Books and CD’s.” A lot of those they had likely bought together, especially the CD’s. Kevin would have packed the ones he knew were his favorites. Matthew knew that. There was one that he knew was also one of Kevin’s favorites, one of the Gregorian CD’s. If he hadn’t packed that one, Matthew would have to buy another copy. He could hear the song in his head, the one that was all Kevin.

“All I needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day
And all I ever knew
Only you”

He felt the sting at the back of his eyes and was glad Kevin was behind him as they reached the boat. He put the box in the boat and returned to the house to get another. Kevin was right behind him to grab another suitcase.

“They’re your suitcases. I’ll bring them back.” It was a stupid thing to say, really. But he had to get the song out of his head.

“No, you keep them. I have others.”

Matthew shook his head. “You don’t.”

“I’ll get some, ok?” Kevin snapped. “Just keep them.” Did he have to make things so difficult? Like he gave a fuck about the goddamned suitcases!

Kevin looked up at the sky. The clouds were starting to roll in. It wasn’t supposed to rain today. Not that the weathermen got it right more than half the time. A cat with a crystal ball could do just as well forecasting the weather as they did. But they could have been right at least one day, couldn’t they?

“Looks like we’re in for some rain.” Matthew’s words echoed Kevin’s thoughts. “Wasn’t supposed to rain today.” The forecasts were never right unless they were exactly what you didn’t want. Then they seemed to get it right enough. But the wind was warm and the air was heavy. No way that meant anything but rain. The weatherman had said “dry, high 60’s with scattered clouds.” It was warmer than that, cloudier than that and would probably be a hell of a lot wetter than that pretty soon.

“Would have been good if Jason had come with you. He could have given you a hand getting all your things. Seems the least he could do.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “He couldn’t come. He’s home tied to the bed, ok?” He practically threw the box in the boat.

Home? The word brought Kevin up short. This had been home to Matthew for 10 years. Was it already not home? Odd that it wasn’t Jason being tied to the bed that made his stomach tighten. It was the fact that this was no longer home to Matthew.

A roll of thunder stirred Kevin from his thoughts. It wasn’t far off. He looked up at the sky. It had darkened and he could smell the rain now. “Fuck!” he exclaimed as the wind picked up. “Goddamned weatherman!”

The rain came as if on cue. Matthew climbed into the boat and got the tarp out of the storage box. “We’ll have to cover what we have and wait it out,” he said as he stretched the tarp over the boxes and suitcases they had loaded. They had only gotten about half of them in.

“Fuck,” Kevin said again as he helped secure the tarp as best he could with only one working hand. Why did life have to always be so complicated?

They were soaked to the skin by the time they got the tarp secured and got back to the house. That was one thing about living in the middle of a lake—it never just rained, it poured.

Matthew sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Kevin’s response was immediate.

“You shouldn’t sit around in wet clothes.”

The concern in Kevin’s voice was obvious. Probably automatic after all these years. “They’ll dry; I’ll live,” Matthew couldn’t keep the irritation out of his own voice.

“You’ll get sick,” Kevin stated flatly. “You always get sick if you sit around in wet clothes.” Not that he should care. He shouldn’t care if Matthew caught pneumonia and died. It was his own fault. He had been the one getting fucked by Jason. He had been the one to say he would pick his things up today. He had been the one to leave Jason home when he could have been here helping. Then he would have long since left the dock and they could have been safely fucking home by now.

There was no point arguing with Kevin on some things. Matthew sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. “Ok, you win. Do I have any clothes in any of the boxes still inside?”

Kevin shook his head. “No, they were all in the suitcases. I’ll go get you something to change into.”

Matthew watched him walk away. The rain had turned Kevin’s hair into a mass of curls. He almost always combed it straight when it was wet, and tied it back since he had let it grow longer. But it was loose today, hanging about his shoulders. He could feel the softness of it on his fingers, not slipping through his fingers because there were just too many curls to slip through anything. But the softness of it as it wrapped around his finger, like a loosely coiled spring. Brown silk. There was usually a thick coarseness to curly hair. But Kevin’s was like brown silk.

“These will fit you; they’re big on me,” Kevin said as he returned with a pair of red flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

Matthew nodded as he took them. “That’s because they’re mine.”

Kevin shrugged. “Oh, are they? Sorry, they looked like mine.” He knew they were Matthew’s. They had each bought the exact same pair for the other this past Christmas—without realizing they had done so. They had laughed about it and Matthew had smiled and said they had become like an old married couple, thinking the same thoughts. He had kissed Matthew and said that was how it was supposed to be when two people loved each other.

“You have the same ones, remember?” Matthew remembered. He remembered unwrapping them at Christmas. He remembered saying they were destined to be worn right then and there and had insisted they get out of their clothes and put them on. They never actually put them on. He could still see the way the lights from the Christmas tree reflected in Kevin’s eyes.

“No, I forgot that.”

Matthew nodded. “Easy enough to do.” Not for Kevin. He would remember. And he knew he had kept them on purpose, because he would remember.

There was a flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder that shook the house. The lights flickered.

“Looks like it’s going to be one hell of a storm. Gas for the generator?”

Kevin nodded. “Always.” They lost power a lot when there were storms. “You go change out of your wet clothes and I’ll get it ready, just in case.”

Matthew knew there was no “just in case” about it. When the lights flickered, they went out. Always. Maybe in the next moment, maybe not for half an hour, but they always went out. “I’ll do it. You can’t pull it over with that hand.” It was hard to pull over. There was a trick to it. You had to pull it just right in just the right direction.

“Will you just stop it?” Kevin snapped. “It’s no big deal, alright? Stop goddamned fussing about it at every turn!”

He’d mentioned it what…twice? “Fine! Go ahead!” Matthew stood up and stalked off to the bathroom to change. He was just pulling on the t-shirt when the lights went out.

He emerged from the bathroom to the sound of Kevin’s cursing. He padded to the back porch and saw Kevin trying to pull the generator over with his left hand. He rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so goddamned stubborn all the time.” He pushed Kevin aside and got the generator started with one pull. The lights flickered back on.

“I’m not stubborn all the time,” Kevin muttered as they made their way back through the house.

They turned the lights off as they passed them. The lights weren’t really needed, even though the storm clouds made it dark. Shutting them off would leave more power for the more important things, like the fridge, freezer, water pump and sump pump.

As they passed the bedroom, Kevin went in to change into dry clothes. Matthew hesitated at the door. It was their bedroom. Or it had been, until he had fucked that all up. He noticed the bed, their bed, was gone and the bed from the spare room was in its place. Of course. He wouldn’t have wanted to sleep in their bed without Kevin or with anyone else. He bit his lip, hard, to stop the stinging in his eyes. Except he had. Though he hadn’t slept in it. He had just gotten fucked in it.

He walked on and went into the living room. He had also noticed the hole in the wall. That explained the broken hand.

Kevin came out wearing another pair of jeans and a shirt. “Are you cold?”

Matthew smiled in spite of himself. It was at least 75 degrees outside. It was cooler in the house and the rain did make it seem like it should be colder still, but he was warm blooded. Always had been. “Yeah, freezing. What did you do with my parka?”

Kevin walked by him and sat in one of the rocker-recliners that faced the big windows in the living room. “Smart ass,” he said and couldn’t quite keep the twitch from his lips.

They sat there in silence, both watching the storm that was growing stronger and getting closer. Kevin had put those big windows in, before Matthew had moved in. The wall had been all but missing when he had bought the house and the first time he had looked through the holes he had fallen in love with the view.

It was mostly water; the opposite shoreline was farthest away from this part of the house. There had originally been an old, picturesque boat house on the other shore, but that had long since been replaced by a more modern one. But it was the water, or more accurately, the way the lightning would come down in streaks and hit the water that made the view spectacular. So when he had repaired the wall, he had gotten the largest windows he could afford and had framed the view. In the summer, when there was a particularly intense storm, he would open the windows and stand there for sometimes hours, waiting for the perfect lightning strike, for the perfect picture. Several of those hung on the walls throughout the house. A few of them were in magazines.

But more important were the nights they had both spent watching the lightning through those windows. They would turn the couch so it would face the windows (it normally faced the fireplace) and they would sit, so close that they were like puzzle pieces that fit together, and watch the storm.

Like puzzle pieces that fit together. It had always felt like that. Did it feel like that to Matthew and Jason?

Kevin stood up abruptly. “Are you hungry? I made sauce and there are still meatballs in the freezer. I can make spaghetti.”

Matthew had been watching Kevin more than what was going on outside. He didn’t have to look outside to see what Kevin saw. He had often thought that if he could only look at one thing for the rest of his life, it would be Kevin’s face—because everything that touched Kevin’s eyes, touched his face. Only everything was more, the way Kevin saw it. Beauty was more beautiful, the colors more intense than could be perceived by the normal eye. And sorrow, tragedy…they were deeper, the tears that surrounded them pearlescent, making them almost beautiful in their pain. Kevin saw with his heart, not his eyes. A person could live a lifetime just looking at Kevin’s face and never miss a thing.

“Yeah, spaghetti sounds good.” He stood up. “I’ll give you a hand.” Not with the cooking. That was Kevin’s domain. But he could set the table and, given the lack of light, put out some candles.

Matthew did his part and then stayed out of the kitchen. That was how Kevin liked it. Kevin created a meal with the same precision that he took a photograph. That had been something that had grown over the years. When they had first met, whatever came out of a can or a box suited both of them fine. But after the first time Kevin had cooked something “from scratch” and Matthew had raved about it, Kevin had spent more and more time doing “real” cooking.

Matthew had never eaten in a restaurant without comparing the food to Kevin’s cooking. It never compared well.

They ate in the living room. Matthew had automatically set the plates and the candles there. They had often eaten there, especially during storms. Ever since that first time the power went out.

“We had spaghetti the first time the power went out, remember?” Kevin said as he spooned some sauce over Matthew’s spaghetti and put a few meatballs on his plate.

Matthew laughed. “Franco American, because we had no power to cook anything. I remember you used to love to eat it cold from the can.”

Kevin laughed, too, as he sat down and sprinkled some grated Romano cheese on his spaghetti. “God, yes! Never Chef Boyardee, though. THAT had to be heated up. But Franco American right from the can was my favorite.”

“I always liked your spaghetti better.” He liked everything of Kevin’s better. Always had. Always would.

They ate in silence, watching the storm that was showing no signs of letting up, both a bit lost in memories.

Kevin waited until Matthew finished then stood up to take the plates to the kitchen. Matthew stood up automatically and grabbed the pan of sauce and meatballs and the cheese.

“It looks like the storm is going to last,” Kevin said as he put the dishes in the dishwasher while Matthew put away the leftovers. “Shouldn’t you call Jason? He’ll worry.”

Matthew sighed in exasperation. “Look, Kevin, I’m not going to call him because he isn’t living with me and I’m not in a relationship with him, ok? So can we just let it go?”

“You guys break up already?” There was bitterness in his voice. The least Matthew could do after destroying their lives was to ride off into the sunset and be happy with the bastard. Though why he should want Matthew happy with someone else was beyond reasoning. Except that he wanted Matthew happy. Period.

“There was nothing to ‘break up.’ I told you that, but you weren’t listening.” He wasn’t listening now, either. Matthew could tell by the look on Kevin’s face. He shook his head and walked back into the living room. “It was a mistake, Kevin. A one-time thing that was a mistake. A dumb, stupid mistake.”

Kevin nodded but didn’t say anything. He just walked over to the window and stood there, watching the storm.

Matthew sat down on the couch and leaned back his head and closed his eyes. A dumb, stupid mistake… He’d known Jason slightly for years, through his job. Jason was part owner in a company that designed camping equipment and Matthew’s advertising firm had done a few ads for them over the years. The business was looking to expand into a larger market and Matthew’s firm had been offered a chance to take over all the advertising, create a new image for the company. Matthew had worked for weeks on the campaign and Kevin had done some shots for him, some beautiful “camping sunrise” scenes that he knew would add something to his layouts that the firm he was competing against would not have. Kevin’s eye for the perfect shot and his own talent for knowing what would sell a product to a target market had, over the years, turned his “something to pay the bills until he could find a real job” into a “real job” that far more than “paid the bills.” But this was the biggest opportunity that had ever come his way. The campaign had international potential.

Kevin knew how much it would mean to both of them if he got this account. Which was why Matthew had reacted badly when Kevin had told him he would be going out of town for the weekend on a photo shoot. Matthew had invited Jason out to the island for the weekend. He hadn’t wanted to just present his campaign in the office. He had wanted to add some background atmosphere to things. Kevin had taken the sunrise shots on the island and Matthew wanted Jason to “feel” the campaign, not just “see” it. And topping the day off with one of Kevin’s dinners couldn’t hurt. He had discussed it all with Kevin before hand and everything had been set. Then Kevin got a call to do a photo shoot in Maine.

“It’s for a leading travel magazine. Apparently they saw the pic I took of that lighthouse in New Hampshire—you know, the sunrise shot I got when we went on vacation last year, the one I gave to the local newspaper.”

Kevin had been so excited. He had been, too. Kevin deserved an opportunity to have his photos featured in a national magazine. He was brilliant. But then Kevin had told him the dates.

He didn’t know what he had expected. Had he expected Kevin to automatically put his own career aside for him? After all, Matthew’s business was what “supported” them both. Kevin’s “career” was closer to being a hobby than an actual career. It was something he enjoyed doing and was good at, but it wasn’t what “paid the bills.” So naturally if push came to shove, Kevin would understand why it was more important for him to be home that weekend, right? Wrong. Kevin had not understood.

“The one time I get a real opportunity you want me to throw it away so I can stay home and play house-husband and cook a nice meal for your client?” Kevin’s voice had risen to that shrill level that was one step below a sound only dogs could hear. No amount of reasoning had made him understand that it was more than that. His photos would be used for the campaign—that was just as good an opportunity for him as the one in Maine. Didn’t he understand how important this was to both of them?

“Yeah, and having my pics in a national travel magazine is only important to me. Not to you, obviously.”

So Kevin had driven himself to the airport and he had brought Jason to the island for dinner for two. Matthew had spent most of the time during dinner talking not about the campaign but of Kevin and how he, Matthew, had lost sight of what was really important—to Kevin, to himself and to both of them together. Jason had been understanding, very understanding. After the second bottle of wine, they had ended up in bed, where Jason had showed him just how understanding he could be.

And then the front door had opened and before Matthew could maneuver out from under Jason, Kevin was standing in the doorway. Matthew would never forget the look on Kevin’s face, not if he lived for a million years.

Kevin watched the boat bobbing around on the water, the boat that would take Matthew away from him forever. He wished it would sink, that the rain would just fill it up and send it to the bottom of the lake, or that lightning would strike it and send it up in a burst of flames.

A mistake, a dumb, stupid mistake. He didn’t know whether the mistake had been going to Maine in the first place or coming home early. What had he expected Matthew to do? Just say “Oh, ok, have a good time, hon. I’ll throw some taquitos in the oven for Jason and we’ll be fine.” Yeah, that would have worked. Except he did understand why it was so important for Matthew to have him there. It wasn’t just to play “house-husband” as he had said. Though really, was that such a bad thing? They had supported each other at various points in their life together. Matthew’s advertising firm had just grown to the point where they really didn’t need Kevin to contribute income. And he knew he had helped with that. His photos had gotten Matthew more than one client. They had worked together more often than not—Kevin’s eye and Matthew’s sense of what sold. So he did understand how important getting that account had been to Matthew, to both of them. Except that it had seemed Matthew hadn’t understood how important getting his photos in a national travel magazine was to him.

He was part of Matthew and Matthew was part of him. Everything in their lives was the result of that combining. Even Matthew’s advertising business. And that was fine; it was good. But he had his own identity, too. He was Kevin, too, not just an extension of Matthew. And his photography…that was one thing that came from inside himself, one thing that was his alone. No one saw the shots the way he did, no one saw with his eyes. And when he saw the finished print he could look at it and know that it had come from inside of him, that it was part of him. It made him feel real, like he well and truly existed, and that he was somehow important because no one else could have seen that exact same thing the way he had seen it through his eyes.

He had thought Matthew understood that. But when it came down to it, Matthew had shown him how relatively important he was—or wasn’t. Not as himself, not as a person on his own. He was only important as part of Matthew’s life.

So he had gone off on his own and had left Matthew to his own devices. Though he had made a nice dinner for them, one Matthew only had to heat up. After all, he did know how important it was to Matthew.

Which was why he had told Cindi, the editor of the magazine, that he had “received an urgent call from home” after about 2 hours in Maine. There would be other opportunities—he was a good photographer, no one else had his eye. And Matthew had always been supportive of him, always. What was really important?

Cindi had been very understanding and had agreed to reschedule the shoot for the following weekend. It was looking like the weather would be better anyway—and it was important to her that he be the one to take the photos.

So he had caught the next flight home. He’d apologize to Matthew and Jason for not being back sooner and say and do all the right things to support Matthew and help him get the job.

It had never occurred to him that he would find Jason in their bed fucking Matthew. Never. If he had spent every one of his waking moments imagining possible scenarios, he would never have come up with that one.

The wind gusted and the rain pelted the glass like a wave of pebbles. Kevin shivered.

A dumb, stupid mistake…

“Cold?” Matthew was standing behind him, his hands on his shoulders.

Kevin nodded.

Matthew wrapped his arms around him and he leaned back against him, instinctively. Matthew was warm, always so warm.

“Remember the first storm?”

Matthew nodded. He was already thinking about it. They had stood there, much like they stood now, their bodies so close air could barely pass between them, and had watched the lightning streak across the sky.

“It’s like Nature’s orgasm.”

Those had been Kevin’s words, and between the closeness of their bodies and the images those words had put in his mind, Matthew had gotten horny as hell. He had been nearly inside Kevin before they had even gotten to the couch. They hadn’t even tried to make it to the bedroom. It had been hot, heavy and quick—like the storm. Nothing held back, nothing savored; it had all been raw energy, raw sex.

He pressed his lips against Kevin’s hair.

Kevin turned around and looked up at him. “Nature’s orgasm,” he mouthed the words, barely a breath making them audible.

“Make love to me.”

Matthew looked into Kevin’s eyes. One last time? Were those words implied? He didn’t see them in Kevin’s eyes, but Kevin’s eyes were never easy to read.

Matthew was hesitating. Kevin knew he should just turn away and say forget it, apologize for even thinking that and just walk away…into the kitchen, into the hall, anywhere away from Matthew’s arms.

But he couldn’t. “Please?”

There was nothing of the first time in this time, nothing hot, nothing rushed, nothing raw. They made love slowly, the passion coming more from the certainty of knowing, of familiarity than from the heat of lust. They made love, they didn’t fuck.

Matthew knew it would never, could never be like this with anyone else.

When they were finished Kevin got up and walked over to the window. Matthew watched and felt his stomach muscles clench. Kevin was beautiful. Every line, ever curve, every angle, everything about him was beautiful. Especially naked. Especially when silhouetted against a stormy sky.

Was it the last time? Had those words been in his eyes?

Matthew got up and walked over to stand behind Kevin, but he didn’t touch him. Had he touched him for the last time?

Kevin traced a line of rain on the glass with his fingertip and sighed. “You said it was a mistake.”

Matthew nodded. He knew Kevin could see his reflection in the glass.

“People make mistakes,” Kevin continued quietly, almost in a whisper. “Do you think you would make the same mistake again? I mean…” the words broke off in his throat.

Matthew put his hands on Kevin’s shoulders and pressed his face against the back of his hair. “No.” He was certain of that. There were words he could offer to support that one word, but he knew that there weren’t enough words in the world to make Kevin believe him if that one word didn’t.

Kevin turned to face Matthew but didn’t look up at him. “I trusted you. I never even imagined that you would…that you could…”

Matthew swallowed hard. “I love you, Kev. I always have and always will. And I’ve always known that, too. Except I never felt it quite so hard and so deep as when I looked into your eyes and saw I had lost you.” It wasn’t an explanation or a promise, though both were included in the feelings behind the words. Kevin would know that. Or he wouldn’t.

Kevin nodded in silence. Matthew loved him. He knew that. He loved Matthew. He knew that, also. Was that enough? He leaned against Matthew and pressed his face against his shoulder. Should it be enough? Should he forgive and forget? Could he forgive and forget? Or maybe just forgive? He couldn’t forget.

Matthew could feel the tears falling onto his skin like hot little raindrops, rolling down his chest like the rain on the window. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold in the tears that threatened to spill from his own eyes.

“Have I, Kev?” his voice cracked. “Have I lost you?”

Kevin raised his head and looked into Matthew’s eyes. He could see it all in them, all the words Matthew had not said, all the feelings behind those unspoken words. There were words in his head, too, that he would not speak. Words weren’t always important. Sometimes words just obscured the meaning.

He reached up and brushed his fingers over the curve of Matthew’s cheek. “No.”

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