Date: Thu, 29 Apr 2004 15:29:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: dl mercer <dlmercer27@yahoo.com>
Subject: THAW IN WINTER

This story is a work of fiction. It deals with love and sex among males. If
such things offend you, please do not continue. Though such is not a part
of this story, please protect yourself and others by practicing safe sex.

Sincere thanks to Tim for his words of encouragement and his editing
skills.

The author retains all rights. Please direct all comments/questions to:
dlmercer27@yahoo.com


THAW IN WINTER


Mark Bartel relaxed on the sofa, soaking up the warmth of the fire. He
smiled, his gaze resting on his dog Chip. The big English spaniel was
sprawled on the rug, sound asleep.

"We had quite a day didn't we buddy?" Mark murmured softly, "Lots of fresh
air, exercise and a hot hunk who could thaw a glacier in the middle of
winter."

Mark snorted softly, knowing Chip could care less about the hunk. He had
more interest in the wildlife. Although, he reflected, anyone hooked up
with that guy could probably expect a lot of wild in his life. Chip
remained still, except for the slight twitch of one ear. His master's voice
was low and soothing. Even in sleep, the dog instinctively knew, nothing
was required of him.

Having just quit his job at Davis Architectural Designs, Mark was taking a
well earned vacation. At 26, he'd gone from highschool, to college, to job,
with barely a break. His hard work had paid off by earning him a well
deserved reputation as a master architect. He was preparing to open his own
firm, but first, he was taking some time off. He was looking forward to an
entire three months of nothing but rest and relaxation at his cabin in the
woods.

The cabin was located a mile off the main road, in a wood shrouded clearing
which also contained a garage and a shed. The garage housed his 4 wheel
drive jeep and a snowmobile. The shed was home to a generator that could be
used in case of power outages, the fuel for which was in a large
underground tank.

Outwardly rustic, the cabin fit effectively into its environment,
reflecting the natural surroundings. Mark had done some extensive
modernization of the inside.  It now contained some very nice amenities,
extra large tubs and multi-head shower stalls in the bathrooms. The kitchen
boasted granite counter tops, natural wood cabinets and convenient, modern
and unobtrusive, built-in appliances.  There was a hot tub on the small
deck off the living room. The living room itself was primitive and cozy
with its log and quarried stone walls. A large fireplace complimented the
wilderness ambience.

Mark spent considerable time here as he was growing up. His parents, both
career driven, did quite a bit of traveling, with the result that Mark had
been raised almost exclusively by his grandparents. It was in fact at this
very place, the summer he turned 13, that he admitted to himself that he
was gay. An admission that left him feeling alienated and afraid. He'd seen
at school, how some boys were teased about being gay, whether they were or
not. He didn't want the same thing happening to himself. He'd never had
trouble before, but then he'd never acknowledged the truth until that
time. What if they noticed some change in him?

One day, deeply troubled, Mark had gone for a walk in the woods. He'd
stopped and sat in the grass under an oak tree, his thoughts jumbled and
confused, his stomach feeling like lead. Tears had welled up, spilling
silently down his cheeks as he rocked slowly in distress. It was thus his
grandfather found him.

Without a word his grandpa eased down beside him, putting his arm around
his grandson, "Tell me about it, son." His words were so encouraging and
gentle that Mark told his grandfather everything.

His grandpa listened and nodded, letting Mark spill his troubles without
interruption. When he'd finished, his grandpa gave him the greatest gift
he'd ever received. Acceptance.

"Mark," he told him, "you've been given a hard row to hoe, son. It won't be
easy.  There are a lot of people in the world who don't hold with the
notion of homosexuality. They think it's something you choose to be, they
fear it, and what they fear they hate. If they took the time to really
think about it, they'd realize that no one chooses to be gay. Who in their
right mind would want all the problems associated with it?"

"Not me, that's for sure." Mark put in.

His grandpa squeezed his shoulder and smiled, "I know that, son, but the
good Lord has His reasons for making you this way and that's the way it has
to be. The way I see it, just be the best man you can, gay or straight,
nobody could ask more of you than that." he paused, then continued, his
words somber, serious, "You're going to have to be real careful about who
you tell, you know that don't you?  There are those who aren't above
tormenting, even physically trying to harm, those they know are gay."

Mark nodded, having already seen for himself the truth of his grandpa's
words.

"Damn son, I wish I could make things easier for you."

Mark heard the slight tremor in his grandfather's voice and hugged him,
"You have grandpa, you still love me."

His grandpa returned the hug, "Damn right I do. Your grandma and I will
always love you and be here for you. Speaking of your grandma," he stood
and offered a hand up to Mark, "she sent me to fetch you for lunch. She's
probably wondering where the Sam Hill we've gone off to. You'll have to
protect me when we get back, son."

Laughing, the two of them returned to the cabin. Mark's grandparents
remained true to their word and were always there for him, filling him with
their love and acceptance. In time, they deeded the cabin and the
surrounding thirty acres of land to him when they moved to Arizona for the
drier climate.

Mark knew there wasn't any other place he'd rather spend his time off than
here.

Following his grandfather's advice and his own natural caution, Mark kept
his sexual orientation to himself, a thing not always easily accomplished.
Rather than make excuses as to why he didn't date, Mark kept himself buried
in his studies, then his work. A social life was too much trouble to
cultivate, too risky. The result of this self-imposed isolation being a
tendency to shyness and reticence.

When it came to his work, Mark was very much in charge, sure of his plans
and ideas, not afraid to voice his opinions and comments. He dealt with his
clients effectively and efficiently. In any other arena, he found himself
fumbling, uncertain to the point of being tongue tied while trying to make
the simplest of statements. Socializing became the stuff of nightmares. His
solution, to retreat behind his professional facade, to keep people at
arm's length so they never saw the kind and gentle dreamer. The man who
liked to laugh and joke, the insecure man who sometimes lost the fight to
fear and loneliness. The man who longed for a strong lover, one who would
see him, take him and yet let him be his own man with his strengths intact,
his weaknesses buoyed, uplifted by their love.

Such was the stuff of dreams, part of his thoughts as earlier in the day he
and Chip wandered the woods around the cabin. Following a favored trail,
they hiked some distance into the national forest/wildlife refuge that
bordered Mark's land.  The entire area was beautiful, even this far into
winter. All of the deciduous trees had pretty much shed their leaves, but
the evergreens were there, plentiful enough to relieve the stark display of
bare branches.

The air was crisp and cold, the breath of man and dog clearly visible as
they hiked. They had seen a few deer and other smaller examples of the
areas wildlife such as rabbit and squirrel. Chip, being well trained,
remained at his master's side, sometimes quivering with the desire to give
chase. Mark let him flush a few birds, quail and pheasant, just for the
practice and as a reward for his obedience.  They hadn't come out to hunt,
but to enjoy the day before the coming snows would keep them mostly cabin
bound.


It was while on their hike that they came across the hunk. Joe Moning. Joe
had set up camp a two-day hike from the park's visitor center.

Mark had brought a backpack and was contemplating stopping for a midday
meal when he caught the smell of wood smoke. Fearing that a fire might have
somehow broken out, he and Chip emerged into a small clearing. There in the
clearing, someone had set up a camp, just a tent really. A small fire was
burning merrily in a shallow pit. Nearby, water trickled over a jumbled
grouping of rocks.  An underground spring had decided to make a random
top-side appearance. Mark wondered where the camper was. As though conjured
by the thought, a man emerged from the tent.

Mark felt his heart skip a beat as butterflies took flight in his stomach.
The man was beautiful. He was tall, exceeding Mark's own five foot eleven
inch height by perhaps three or four inches. His hair was dark blonde,
short at the sides, longer on top, wavy, with a lock that fell artlessly
over his brow. The sun highlighted its healthy gleam. His features were put
together in such a way as to make the breath catch in Mark's lungs. Under a
wide forehead, streaky blonde brows shaded deep blue eyes that held a
benign, yet shadowed expression. His nose was straight, with a slight
downward curve at the end. He wore a neatly trimmed mustache which topped
sculpted lips. The full bottom lip and firm jaw line were accented by a
short well trimmed beard. Dressed in jeans, a tucked-in tee shirt which was
topped by a flannel shirt, and hiking boots, his clothes revealed a wide
shouldered, trim and muscular body. He projected a fit, rugged, even tough
image and yet there was something gentle and refined about him as well.

Mark hesitated, torn between the urge to run from the sudden surge of
desire the sight of this man stirred in him and the almost magnetic pull he
felt between himself and the stranger. The decision was taken out of his
hands.

At first preoccupied, he seemed to suddenly sense Mark's presence and
turned his slightly distracted blue eyed gaze in his direction. Momentary
surprise crossed his features, then a tentative smile.

"Hi, you startled me. Wasn't expecting to see anyone out here." his voice
was rich and smooth, the almost husky timbre sending a shiver down Mark's
spine.

Mark mentally shook himself and replied, "Sorry, my dog and I were out
hiking and I smelled your smoke," he paused with a grimace, "I mean the
smoke from your fire. Didn't mean to imply you were smoking, not like
cigarette smoke, but like you were on fire, smoke. Ah jeez, do you have any
idea what I'm getting at here?" Mark wanted to kick himself for his
rambling, tongue tied explanation. He felt his cheeks flush with
embarrassment.

By this time the stranger was chuckling, "I think I get what you mean." he
came forward and offered his hand, "Joe Moning."

Admonishing himself to get a grip, Mark shook Joe's hand and felt a warm
rush of heat pass between them. He would have been gratified to know that
Joe felt the same heat. He released Joe's hand, feeling a residual tingle
in his palm, "Pleased to meet you Joe, I'm Mark Bartel. Guess you startled
me too, I'm not usually so incoherent."

Joe smiled, "That's ok. It was entertaining."

Mark felt he could bask all day in the warmth of Joe's smile.

"So what brings you out here Mark?" Joe asked.

Again he gave himself a mental shake, "Just getting some exercise, me and
Chip."  he indicated the dog who sat obediently by his side, "We live about
three miles north of here, thought I'd take advantage of the weather before
the snow starts flying."

"I didn't know anyone lived around here. I didn't realize they allowed
private homes in the park." Joe commented

"Oh they don't, my land and the park share a boundary line."

"You're lucky, I wouldn't mind having a home around here." Joe's face took
on a somewhat melancholy expression, "I love this place." He seemed lost in
thought for a moment then returned his attention to Mark, "I was just about
to fix some coffee, care to join me for a cup?"

"Sounds great." Mark accepted and released Chip, allowing him to go
exploring.

The two men continued to chat as Joe fixed the coffee. Mark surreptitiously
watched his every move, trying not to be obvious in his attraction,
especially when he noticed the gold wedding band on Joe's left hand. Inside
he heaved a mental sigh at the knowledge that this gorgeous man was
married. Not that anything would have come of their meeting anyway, but
still it would have been nice to have that possibility. He's probably got a
sweet wife tucked away somewhere waiting impatiently for his return, Mark
thought to himself. Hell, if he was mine I'd never let him leave home
without me.

As conversations will, the talk turned to work and what each man did for a
living.  Joe revealed that he was a carpenter. In addition to working on
homes, he designed, and sold, handmade wood furnishings, chairs, tables and
the like. He even did a bi-monthly show on a small public access channel on
which he taught basic woodwork. Apparently he had quite a client base and
was kept constantly busy with the demand for his work. His eyes lit with
enthusiasm as he described the pleasure he derived from taking simple wood
boards and planks and creating pieces of furniture that were not only
functional but beautiful.

Mark watched Joe's hands as he spoke and wondered what it would be like to
have them touch his body with the care he lavished on his work. He felt a
frisson of jealousy and smiled at his odd notion. Jealous of a piece of
wood?

Joe paused, noting Mark's smile, "Guess I got carried away huh?"

"Not at all," Mark assured him, "it's great that you enjoy your work. There
are so many people who don't. I guess we're both lucky in that way."

Their eyes met and held, a silent communication passed between them. Mark
felt a warm flush begin to move through his body causing his cock to
stir. Breaking the eye contact, he rushed to fill the silence, unable to
resist the question, "I noticed you're wearing a wedding ring. Does your
wife not care for camping?"

When he didn't answer, Mark looked up. Joe was looking at the ring on his
finger, the thumb and forefinger of his right hand gently rubbing and
twisting the polished gold band. His face bore a look of ineffable
sadness. Finally he began to speak, "I don't...," just then Chip began to
bark urgently.

Both men jumped to their feet, following the sound, to find Chip, standing
on his hind legs, front paws braced against the trunk of a tree. Above him
in the branches, a squirrel chittered angrily at the barking dog, for all
the world looking as though he were cussing him out royally. As the men
approached, the squirrel gave a final indignant squeak and took off into
the branches.

Laughing at the antics of dog and squirrel, they returned to Joe's
camp. Mark glanced at his watch and noting the time, reluctantly decided it
was time to head out or risk being lost in the dark before he could make it
home. Turning to Joe he explained, then held out his hand, "It was nice
meeting you Joe. Thanks for the coffee." Wanting to extend their contact,
Mark extended an invitation, "If you're going to be here awhile, I'd be
glad for some company. I'm no gourmet, but I can offer you a decent meal."

Joe shook Mark's hand, "I sure appreciate the offer, but I'll be heading
out tomorrow. I filed my itinerary with the park service. They'll be
expecting me back, and I've got some impatient customers waiting at home as
well."  They wished each other well and with a final goodbye, Mark,
whistling for Chip to join him, headed home.

After a solitary supper, seated on the sofa in front of the fire, he
recalled his meeting with Joe. His thoughts drifted randomly as he
remembered not so much the words, but Joe's voice and the way it made
warmth and desire spread through his body. His cock began to fill and rise,
the thick, erect column tenting his sweats. Mark pulled his tee shirt off
and loosening the tie of his sweats, eased his hand under the waist band,
wrapping it around his demanding flesh.

He groaned as he began to slowly jack his stiff, seven inch length. Needing
to be free of his confinement, he loosened his hold and quickly stripped
his sweats down and off. Completely naked, he swung around, lifting his
legs up on the sofa, lying back. Returning to business, he again took his
rock hard cock in hand, slowly squeezing and stroking. A thick bead of
precum oozed from the slitted head and trickled down the heavy reddened
cap, anointing his taut flesh.

Using his thumb, he spread the slick fluid over his cock, while
constructing a fantasy in his mind. In his fantasy, it was Joe's tongue
sliding over him, Joe's mouth engulfing his rod, Joe's lips pursed around
his straining flesh, sliding up and down, pulling him closer and closer to
ecstacy. He rode the wild wave of his fantasy, struggling to maintain
control, to prolong the aching pleasure.

He groaned again, his heart pounding, his breath rushing through his
laboring lungs. His strokes became almost frantic as he tripped over the
edge. Mark's ass tightened, muscles quivering as he thrust upward, his seed
bursting forth. Pulse after pulse brought thick ropes of cum spurting from
his turgid cock. The first burst hit his neck just below his chin, the
second landed on his chest and each subsequent burst landed lower as a
creamy trail was formed.

Mark sighed and relaxed, his hand resting on his firm belly, absently
spreading the cooling semen over his heated skin. The gesture was slow and
soothing, Mark caught himself drifting into sleep. Yawning he forced
himself up and gathering his clothes, headed upstairs for a quick clean up.

In the bathroom he looked at himself in the full length mirror as he
scrubbed a washcloth, damp and warm, over his chest. While not overly
muscled, his body was tight and fit, the muscles in his shoulders, arms and
legs well defined. He ran a hand through his short, tousled, light, golden
brown hair as his hazel eyes followed the moderate trail of hair that began
between firm pecs and arrowed down his body to join the moderately furred
bush that topped his pubic area. At rest, his cock hung a modest three
inches that partially hid his rounded ball sack.

He stared into the mirror grimacing slightly. He knew some would catagorize
his looks as boyishly handsome. He would never exude that rugged, alpha
male quality that Joe projected so effortlessly. His gaze became distant
and unfocused.  Over his shoulder he pictured Joe behind him. He studied
the contrast between Joe's coloring and his own, realizing they both fit
into that 'golden category.'  Only a few shades separated them in regards
to the color of their skin and hair. He pictured Joe moving in behind him,
Joe's hands resting on his shoulders as he leaned forward to tongue his
neck and ears. Mark shivered and came to, mentally chastising himself.

This obsessing over Joe had to stop. It was unlikely he would ever see the
man again, much less enjoy a physical or emotional relationship with
him. After all, Mark reminded himself sarcastically, why start now? Why
break this phenomenal 26 year streak of virginity? Grimacing with disgust,
he turned from the mirror. It seemed to silently mock his loneliness.

Shutting out the lights, he slid into bed and with a disgruntled sigh,
settled down to sleep. His last coherent thought involved a tall, golden,
god-like figure, a bearded Apollo who seized him roughly in his arms,
taking his lips in a passionate kiss. Mark's lips curved slightly as he
drifted away into his dreams.

                                          * * *

Mark woke to a cold wet nose insistently nudging his hand. He groaned and
rolled, coming face to face with Chip and his intent brown eyes. "Hey
buddy, kinda early isn't it? Guess I should be glad you're not licking me
in the face."

Chip promptly obliged, sliding his tongue over Mark's chin and cheek.

"Shit bud! Ok, I'm up, I'm up." he croaked, scrubbing a hand over his face
as he stepped into a pair of jeans.

Bare chested and with bleary eyed, zombie-like grace, Mark stumbled
downstairs and flung open the door to let Chip out. His eyes widened in
surprise. The woods had been transformed into a winter wonderland. From the
look of it, it had snowed most of the night. There looked to be four or
five inches at least, with more coming.

Chip raced around the yard, barking his excitement, stopping every once in
awhile to anoint a tree or bush or to rub his face in the fluffy snow. Mark
grinned at the big dogs antics then sobered as he thought of Joe. Joe had
said he planned on beginning his hike back to the visitor center this
morning. With this snow, that was going to be a real bitch of a trip.

Mark immediately began to formulate a plan. He called Chip in and headed
upstairs to dress. Joe Moning might need some help getting back to his car,
Mark intended to offer that help. He grinned at the thought of seeing Joe
again.

After dressing, he fixed himself a quick breakfast, then headed to the
garage and fired up his favorite winter toy. Snowmobiling had become a
favored activity for Mark. It was a fun way to break up the monotony of
long winter days.

Following the trail he and Chip had used the day before, in no time at all
Mark arrived at Joe's campsite. He was surprised to see Joe's tent still
up. He was sure that Joe would have broken camp by now and been on his
way. Mark had intended to pick up his trail from the campsite.

He throttled the snowmobile to a standstill, shutting it down. The ensuing
silence was eerie, "Joe?" he called. No answer.

Mark's brows beetled in puzzlement. "Joe!" he called again. Nothing.

Concern began to churn in his gut. Mark headed for the tent and took a look
inside. It was empty except for a sleeping bag and a few of Joe's
possessions.  Backing out he studied the ground, searching for tracks. He
found them, headed into the trees. He followed the faint track that was
already filling with the continuing snowfall. Alert for any movement or
sound, he walked on, searching the surrounding area as he went. Thoughts of
renegade bears nudged his consciousness as he peered warily into the silent
forest. All remained quiet, his own footsteps muffled by the fallen snow.

The trail took a sudden turn and there, a few steps ahead, he spotted a
large dark lump on the ground, partially covered with snow. "Joe!" he
yelled, running to the fallen man.

Mark knelt, his heart pounding with apprehension and gently ran his hand
over Joe's cheek. His skin was pale and cold. Joe's forehead sported a
large lump, the area discolored, a small cut oozing blood. "Joe, Joe can
you hear me buddy?"  Relief sliced through him when Joe groaned.

Joe rolled to his back, another groan grating from his throat, "Mark?"

"Yeah man, it's me. Are you alright?"

Joe opened his eyes and attempted a smile. "Think so, caught my foot on a
root hidden under the snow." he explained haltingly, his teeth chattering,
"Fell against a tree, hit my head... fell flat on my face." he grimaced,
"Got a hell of a headache."

Mark stood, as gently as possible he pulled the big man to his feet. Joe
swayed unsteadily and Mark quickly moved to his side, wrapping his arm
around Joe's waist, urging him to place his arm over Mark's shoulder.

"Ok Joe, nice and easy buddy, let's get you out of here."

The two men walked slowly, silently back to Joe's campsite. Mark could feel
shivers run through Joe's body. "Joe are you ok?" he asked. Mark was really
worried. Joe was pale, his lips tinged with blue, his shivers increasing as
they walked.

"C..c..cold." he stuttered.

They made the campsite and Mark took them straight to his snowmobile. "I'm
taking you home with me Joe. We gotta get you warm." He maneuvered Joe in
place then seated himself, reaching back to pull Joe's arms around his
waist. Joe's body leaned forward, his weight resting against Mark's back,
"Hold on tight to me buddy. Can you do that?" he felt Joe's nod, the
movement reassuring.

Mark started slowly. When he felt Joe's arms tighten around him, he opened
the throttle and sped home as quickly as possible. He knew Joe was
experiencing what he hoped was only mild hypothermia, or possibly shock
from his injury. He thought over his options and decided the best course of
action would be to get Joe into a tub of warm water.

Plan in place, when they arrived home, he lost no time implementing
it. Again he got an arm around Joe's waist and helped him into the
house. By this time, Joe was one constant shiver. Mark shushed Chip, who
was barking and gamboling around with excitement. They headed for the
stairs and began the climb. Partway up, Joe's strength began to flag.

"Don't quit on me now Joe." Mark encouraged, he was panting lightly. Joe
was no light weight. He wasn't sure he could make it upstairs if Joe passed
out.

Joe marshaled his reserves. Together they made the stairs, staggering into
Mark's room and into the adjoining bathroom. Mark lowered him to the toilet
and closing the lid, plopped him down. He quickly turned the water on to
fill the big porcelain tub, then turned back to Joe and began to peel him
out of his clothing.

Coat, sweatshirt, flannel shirt, tee shirt, one by one Mark peeled the
layers away and dropped them into a pile on the floor. He knelt in front of
Joe, unlacing his hiking boots and easing them off his feet. Despite the
seriousness of the situation, Mark couldn't help but admire the treasure he
was revealing.

Joe was beautiful. Burnished skin covered firm rippling muscle. The darker
blonde hair on his chest was fairly thick and silky soft. It covered hard,
defined pecs and framed quarter size, brown areolas topped with nipples
that were pinched tight from the cold. It became sparser as it trailed over
a substantial six pack to disappear under the waistband of his jeans. That
same silky soft hair was just visible under his armpits. His arms were
solid with prominent veins and sinews that trailed down to his hands. His
hands were large, the fingers long, broad yet tapered with a graceful look
to them, artist's hands.

Mark held one of Joe's feet in his hands and removed his sock. Never having
paid much attention to such things before, Mark was struck by the flowing
symmetry of Joe's foot. It was long, high arched, broad at the ball,
tapering through the arch then flaring out again to the heel. It reminded
him of a painting by Michelangelo.  Its lack of warmth also reminded him of
Joe's need. He removed Joe's other sock then stood to check the tub.

The water level was almost right, the bathroom had become steamy and warm.
Mark returned to Joe and helped him stand. Joe's shivers, though constant,
seemed to be lessening in intensity. Curtly reminding himself to stay
focused on Joe's care, Mark reached for the buckle of Joe's belt. He opened
it, then the top button of his jeans. Sliding the zipper down, he grasped
the waistbands of jeans and briefs, sliding Joe's remaining covering down
and away, coming eye to eye, in a manner of speaking, with a slice of
heaven. As with the rest of Joe, his package was impressive. Due to the
cold, his cock was drawn up, but still showed four plump and tempting
inches. Surrounded by a thick bush of curling silk, it rested over his lush
and generous scrotum. Steeling himself to resist the urge to touch, Mark
urged Joe to step out of his jeans and into the tub. Joe groaned with
pleasure and relief as the warm water enfolded him.

Mark smiled at Joe's heartfelt utterance. He took a towel from a nearby
cupboard and folding it, placed it behind Joe on the rim of the tub. "Slide
down and put your head back." he instructed. Joe obeyed and sighed as his
chest and shoulders were engulfed in the warm soothing liquid.

"Joe, you've got a small cut along with a lump on your forehead. I'm going
to wash the blood off your face. I'll try not to hurt you." Mark reached
for a wash cloth and soaked it. Sitting down on the rim of the tub, he
gently cleansed the blood from the wound on Joe's forehead. Fortunately the
cut was very small. The damage consisted mostly of bruised, swollen tissue.

"Better?" he asked. Joe nodded. "Think you'll be ok for a few minutes? I
want to call the park and let them know you're here. I wouldn't want them
to start a search for you when you don't show up when you're expected."
Again Joe nodded and uttered a low, "Yeah."

Mark retreated downstairs, making the call and also taking the time to calm
down.  The whole episode, from the rescue to the undressing had his
adrenalin pumped.  Joe had a seriously lethal affect on Mark's senses, not
to mention his libido.

He entered the kitchen and started a new pot of coffee. Rummaging in the
cupboards, he found the tray his grandma sometimes used to bring him stuff
in bed when he'd been sick. Mark poured a glass of orange juice, a glass of
water and two cups of coffee. Adding milk and sugar to the tray he headed
back up stairs.

Mark returned to the bathroom to find Joe still reclined, his eyes
closed. "You awake Joe?"

Joe stirred, "Yeah, barely. Guess I should get out of here before I drown."

"Need help?"

"Think I can make it now." Joe rose, water sheeting down his glistening
form.

Mark was shocked by the surge of pure lust that shook him. In seconds his
cock went from semi erect to full blown steel. It was enough to make a man
dizzy. He wanted nothing more than to take this vision of masculine
perfection in his arms and worship him. Then Joe swayed.

Instantly Mark was there, holding him steady. The water from Joe's skin
soaked into Mark's clothes, the wet heat melding them together from chest
to thigh. Their eyes met and locked. For a timeless moment they merged,
blue eyes and hazel, open and vulnerable as they swam in each others
soul. Mark felt Joe's cock stirring, the movement a caress against his own
insistent bulge. He swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to do, what to say.

The moment was broken by a long, insistent sniff and a tentative scratch at
the door. Both men looked at the door then back to each other, grins and
chuckles breaking the tension. Mark helped Joe out of the tub, handing him
a towel. Joe slowly dried himself. Finishing his legs and feet he
straightened and wrapped the towel around his waist.

"Damn," Joe muttered as he swayed again, "I keep getting dizzy."

"Sit." Mark ordered as he again seated Joe on the closed toilet. "Still
have that headache?"

"Oh yeah." Joe affirmed.

Mark rummaged in a drawer of the vanity, finding a bottle of
ibuprofen. "Can you take these?" he asked Joe, showing him the bottle. At
Joe's nod he opened the bottle, shaking three into his open hand, "Juice or
water?"

"Juice, please."

While Joe downed the pills and juice, Mark went into the bedroom, petting
Chip to reassure the big guy that everything was fine. He straightened his
unmade bed, grateful the sheets were clean. Returning to the bathroom he
guided Joe to the bed. Letting his towel slide to the floor, Joe climbed in
as Mark pulled the covers over him. Mark retreated to the bathroom with the
towel and emerged carrying the tray.

"I brought coffee. You interested?"

"Sounds good." Joe accepted.

With Joe settled, sipping coffee, Mark relaxed in the easy chair by the bed
with his own cup. He watched Joe, pleased at the return of color to his
skin. His eyes were drawn to the bruised lump on Joe's forehead. He was
still somewhat worried by the dizzy spells.

"You really gave me a scare man." he blurted out. Mark flushed. He hadn't
meant to say the words aloud. They just suddenly seemed to appear,
unavoidable, revealing feelings he didn't want to think about, much less
express.

Joe set his cup down on the tray that rested on the beside table. "For
awhile, I was pretty scared myself, until you showed up." he confessed
honestly. "I woke up once after I hit my head. I came to enough to realize
that I could die out there. It shook me Mark. I'm almost glad I passed out
again. Then you came. You saved my life. I can't even begin to tell you how
grateful I am for everything you've done for me." Joe's eyes were filled
with sincerity, shiny with unshed tears.

Mark's own eyes were teary, "I'm glad I met you yesterday Joe. I believe it
was providential intervention. God's not ready for you yet buddy. He used
me to see to it. Believe me, I'm the one who's grateful. If I hadn't
thought to check on you I'd never have forgiven myself." he smiled, "Let's
not get all maudlin, you're here and you're ok. Would you like to call your
wife and let her know where you are?"

Joe's eyes met Mark's their expression faintly startled, wholly puzzled. He
looked down at the wedding band on his finger, his eyes widening as though
seeing it for the first time. "Wife?" he whispered. His eyes again found
Mark's as the color drained from his face. Had he not been lying on the
bed, Joe would have fallen.  He collapsed against the pillows.

Mark was instantly by his side. He sat on the bed, reaching for Joe's hand,
"What is it Joe, what's wrong baby?"

Mark's unconsciously uttered endearment went unremarked by both men as Joe
struggled to put into words the reason for his shock. His hand tightened on
Mark's as he fought to calm the swirling fear inside. He felt lost until he
caught Mark's concerned gaze. What he saw there anchored him, calmed and
soothed.

"I can't remember, Mark." he murmured. The spoken words, the open
acknowledgment caused the fear to surge with renewed strength. Joe felt his
world take a dizzying dip.

"Hey. Hey buddy, look at me." Mark squeezed and rubbed Joe's cold hands,
working to calm the fear he could see in his eyes. Gaining Joe's attention
he continued, "It's gonna be alright Joe. Stay calm and talk to me."

Joe nodded, grateful for Mark's steady strength. He took a deep breath and
shuddered with relief, absorbing Mark's quiet conviction and the warmth of
his touch.

"Now," Mark began, "when you say you can't remember, what are we talking
about here exactly? You remembered me, right?"

Joe nodded an affirmative, "Yeah Mark, I remembered you, and yesterday when
we met. I remember coming to the park and setting up camp. Beyond that
I...I'm not sure. I get these flashes of things that look familiar, no they
are familiar, I know these things." he paused and took another deep breath,
"But there are holes.  I can't tell you where I live or what kind of car I
drive or..." he looked at the band on his finger, "or who's on the other
end of this. I just don't remember. What am I going to do Mark?" his hand
tightened on Mark's as panic threatened.

Mark returned Joe's grip, the almost painful pressure gaining his
attention, "First thing you're going to do is stay calm. Got it?" he
ordered.

Joe smiled wryly as Mark took charge, "Got it." he acknowledged. He felt
himself relax. It felt good to let someone else take the lead. Joe was hit
with the sudden revelation that that was something he seldom did. It
comforted him to know that he could remember something about
himself. Perhaps it would be ok, just as Mark said.

Mark pulled out his cell phone, "I'm calling the local doctor Joe. He's an
old friend. I think we need a professional opinion."

Mark paced to the window as the call went through. He was unaware of Joe's
intent perusal of his body and the resultant heat that filled his eyes. He
turned when Joe stirred on the bed, again unaware as Joe struggled to hide
a sudden erection, and his confusion as to the cause, amidst the covers. He
gave Joe a reassuring smile, puzzled at Joe's almost pained expression.

His attention was drawn away by a hello at the other end of the line. He
breathed a sigh of relief at having caught Doc Williams at home. Mark spoke
at length to the doctor, filling him in on Joe's accident, the lump on his
head, the dizziness and loss of memory. He then spent the next several
minutes listening to the doctor, his head nodding as he uttered an
occasional, "Uh huh or I see." At one point he moved to the beside and
bent, staring into Joe's eyes, reporting what he saw. With a last few
pleasantries and promises to get together, Mark ended the call and studied
Joe.

"Well?" Joe asked impatiently.

"Doc says you have what sounds like temporary, selective amnesia, brought
about by the blow to your head. He said that in the majority of cases, the
patient's memory gradually returns over a period of days or
weeks. Considering the fact that you are already remembering some things,
he believes this will be the case with you. What most concerns him is the
dizziness. He thinks you may have a slight concussion." Mark concluded

"So where do we go from here?"

"Well, we're not going anywhere. Apparently we're in the middle of a good
sized snow storm. The roads are drifting badly and the snow plows won't go
through till the snow stops. Doc says as long as your injuries aren't life
threatening, we shouldn't try to get to town. There's nothing he could do
for you that we can't do right here." Mark seated himself on the side of
the bed. "Starting with you getting some rest and me waking you up every
hour on the hour, which, if you ask me, is a lousy way to get some rest,
but Doc says it's necessary in case you have a concussion."

Joe blew out a breath, "Whoa. I'm really sorry man, I'm causing you all
kinds of problems."

"Joe, believe me when I say it's not a problem. I... well it's just not,
ok? Mark wanted to tell Joe of the feelings he had brewing inside but he
knew that it wouldn't be appropriate and most likely would be
unwelcome. Joe was straight, he had a wife somewhere, even if he couldn't
remember her.

Both men sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Mark looked at his
watch. He was amazed to see it was almost one in the afternoon. "Hey, are
you hungry? I'll bet you haven't had anything to eat today have you?"

"I could eat." Joe admitted. He began to throw the covers aside.

"Oh no," Mark insisted, "Doc says bed rest for twenty four hours. You're
officially an invalid my friend." he teased with a grin, "Sir will be
having lunch in bed."

Joe frowned and grimaced. "Jeez, I feel like a useless, wimpy lump."

Mark chuckled as he picked up the tray that held the empty coffee cups and
glasses. He gave Joe's shoulder a squeeze, "Believe me buddy, you're not
wimpy, and you're definitely not a lump." Giving Joe a wink, he headed for
the door, "As for being useless, I'm sure there are a lot of people who
could find a use for you."  Myself included. Mark left Joe to wonder why
his touch had caused the return of his hardon.

In the kitchen, Mark adjusted his own erection, "Damn Chip, that guy is
really getting to me." Chip cocked his head and wagged his tail, "Every
time I touch him it's instant woody."

Mark shook his head and sighed. Having Joe here was exciting and yet it
left him feeling melancholy as well. Over the years he'd spent so much time
studying and working that there hadn't been much time to think about
finding a mate, even if he'd had the nerve to try. He'd spent too much time
hiding, afraid to face the problems his sexuality would have dealt him. So
here he was, alone, without a clue as to how to change the status quo.

Mark made a resolution at that moment. Somehow, someway, he was going to
find out what he'd been missing. It was time to open up and give love a
chance, no matter how scared he was. He didn't want to be alone for the
rest of his life.  That decided he went back to his lunch preparations with
renewed energy.

As he worked, he couldn't help but wish he could explore the possibilities
with Joe. There was something about Joe that struck a chord deep
inside. Joe excited him and yet he was comfortable with him, almost as if
they'd known each other for a long time.  He'd found himself attracted to a
few men over the years, but nothing came close to this magnitude. To
suddenly find someone who stirred such strong feeling inside with such
ease, only to be denied the right to test those feelings, to see if they
could possibly be reciprocated, was frustrating. A prior claim made his
hopes impossible.

Carrying hearty bean and bacon soup, ham and cheese sandwiches, and iced
tea for two, Mark returned upstairs to find Joe dozing. He set the tray
down on the bedside table and went to dig in the hall closet. He soon found
what he was looking for, a small folding table. With that in hand he
returned to the bedroom and gently shook Joe.

"Joe?" I've got lunch, buddy."

Joe stirred and stretched, opening his eyes. Mark melted at the soulful,
sleepy expression he found there. His knees went weak as a slow smile
curved Joe's sensual lips. "Hi," he rumbled and groaned as he sat up.

Mark couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to peel off his
clothes, slide into bed with this hunk and make him groan with
pleasure. His heart sped at the thought. To distract himself, he set up the
folding table in front of the easy chair, placing his own meal on it. He
then lowered the tray over Joe's lap

"Dig in." he invited and sat, taking a bite out his own sandwich.

The two men conversed quietly between bites. Chip, seated between the chair
and the bed, was the recipient of several pieces of sandwich from both Mark
and Joe.  Mark brought forward an idea he conceived about retrieving Joe's
tent and belongings tomorrow. He thought maybe if Joe had his things,
especially his wallet, it might help him to remember. Joe agreed with the
idea, only if the wind died down. It had steadily picked up over the last
few hours, severely cutting visibility outside. He was adamant that Mark
not risk himself. After the meal, Mark gathered the plates and seeing Joe
settled, returned them to the kitchen.

Keeping an eye on the clock, he cleaned up the lunch remains and headed for
the living room. Mark piled kindling in the fireplace and in no time had a
cozy fire burning. In one small room off the living room, Mark had set up
for himself an informal office. Desk, computer, drafting table, complete
with the implements of his trade and bookshelves. Empty
bookshelves. Stacked in a corner by his desk were several boxes of books
that he'd brought with him. He unpacked them, placing them on the shelves
with quiet satisfaction.

There were no architectural tomes or classics of literature here. These
were for entertainment, pure and simple. He chose a book by one of his
favorite authors, Carl Hiaasen, knowing he could expect a good laugh from
his sharp wit and bizarre humor. Just what he needed to distract himself
from thoughts of the man upstairs in his bed. Mark knew he was in for a
long night.

As instructed by the doctor, Mark made the trip upstairs hour by hour,
waking Joe, making sure he was aware of his surroundings and coherent. They
shared a simple supper and watched a movie on the nineteen inch, tv/vcr/dvd
combo Mark kept in his bedroom. After the movie, Mark once again attended
to the kitchen cleanup. He threw Joe's clothes and some of his own in the
washer, then returned to his book.

Past midnight and into the wee hours of the morning he was finding it more
and more difficult to remain awake. At two a.m. he took a cool shower and
changed into sweats. He purloined the alarm clock from the bedside stand in
his room and set it, leaving it across the room from the sofa. He wanted to
be sure he was forced to get up to turn it off, rather than fall into his
usual habit of hitting the snooze button for an extra half hour.

Armed with fresh coffee and his book, he returned to the sofa to continue
the battle to stay awake. For the next couple of hours he was fairly
successful. He started when the alarm went off but was still awake. By five
a.m. the battle was lost. Mark fell asleep as soon as he returned to the
sofa, awakening only when the alarm went off.

By eight a.m. both men were bleary-eyed, grumpy and just plain bushed. At
ten, Mark, feeling woozy and disoriented, began to laugh at some
inconsequential thought. He collapsed on the bed. Caught up in Mark's
infectious laughter, Joe was soon rolling on the bed with him. Both had
tears running down their cheeks.

"Mark, this is nuts." Joe told him when he'd recovered his senses. "Except
for feeling dead tired, I'm fine. I've been up a couple of times to use the
bathroom and didn't feel the least bit dizzy." he reached out without
thinking and brushed a strand of hair from Mark's forehead. "You look worn
out, babe, go get some sleep."

Mark gazed sleepily at Joe, his eyes going wide and soft at Joe's caress
and endearment. He watched myriad emotions cross Joe's face to be reflected
in his eyes as he reached out again. The air seemed thick between them,
movement slowing, possibilities waiting to be born. Mark saw the moment
Joe's eyes settled on the ring. Joe's hand dropped, his eyes hooded as he
murmured something about being tired.

Mark stirred and rose from the bed. He took a deep breath and swallowed the
sudden tears that threatened, "Go to sleep Joe. I'll be in the bedroom down
the hall if you need anything."

He dragged himself to the other bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. For
a moment he'd seen something in Joe's eyes, something that almost
frightened him, yet stirred anticipation, causing his heart to pound. He'd
waited, barely breathing, for Joe's touch until that sudden wall had
slammed down between them. Joe withdrew. Not only physically, but mentally
as well, his face blank, his eyes shadowed.

Mark pulled the covers back and crawled into bed. Silent tears wet the
pillow as he mourned the loss of something that could never be.

               * * *

Had he been able to read Joe's thoughts he might have retained a shred of
hope.  The moment Joe touched Mark he was struck by the innocent, almost
shy pleasure reflected in Mark's gaze. His groin tightened. Something
stirred inside, a need to claim and protect that sweet innocence, to
declare ownership and keep for himself the right to hold and touch the
beautiful man before him. He longed to teach Mark all the things, he
somehow instinctively knew, he'd never experienced.

He'd reached out again, intent on caressing that boyish, angelic face,
until the gleam of gold caught his eye. The ring. The ring on his left
hand. A symbol of promise and commitment to someone. A promise he couldn't
remember to a person who remained lost in his memory. Joe had let his hand
drop, feeling somehow defeated, lost. He saw the quick sting of hurt in
Mark's eyes, quickly hidden, but it hurt him in turn, to cause
unintentional pain.

After Mark's exit he lay back on his pillows, struggling to remember. He
twisted the ring on his finger, hoping to find a face somewhere in his
memory. Time and again Mark's face appeared in his thoughts. Joe shook his
head in confusion. I don't understand this, he thought, if I've got a wife,
why do I have these feelings for Mark? Could I possibly be bisexual or even
gay? A sudden image flashed in his mind. He was bent over a dark haired
man. His gaze traveled over a strong back, a tapered waist. His hands
caressed the taut hard globes of the ass he penetrated and pounded against.

Joe sat up with a startled exclamation. His gut clenched with anxiety as a
twinge of pain hit his heart. "Shit! Goddamn it, why can't I remember?" He
struggled to bring forth other images. His mind remained blank. As an
experiment he thought of women, naked, their shape, full breasts, small
waists, curvy rounded hips, shapely thighs. His cock remained
unimpressed. Changing gears he thought of men, again naked. Mark's image
immediately filled his mind. The result unmistakable, immediate
erection. Joe lay back with a groan. He realized he had to be gay or at
least bi. But what of the ring? Could he have a husband waiting somewhere?
Or, his face paled at the thought, God forbid he was a gay man trying to
live life straight. His erection deflated. Was there a wife? Children?


After a time, disgruntled by memories that continued to elude him, Joe lay
down and forced himself to relax. He turned on his side, staring blankly
out the window at the blowing snow. The exhaustion of the nights enforced
wakings soon overtook his thoughts and he drifted to sleep.

                                        * * *

Mark woke as late afternoon sunshine fell across his closed lids. He
stirred, yawning, and lay quiet as his senses gathered themselves. At his
first move, Chip sat up from where he lay on the rug beside the bed. He
watched his master patiently. Mark took a deep breath and sat up.

"Hey buddy, bet you gotta go outside. Huh?"

Chip gave a sharp bark, his feathery tail slicing the air with enthusiasm.

"Let's go check on Joe, then we'll go out."

Reaching the doorway to his bedroom, Mark was surprised to see the bed
empty.  He listened for a moment, then heard the sound of running water in
the bathroom.  Sounded like Joe was taking a shower.

He tapped on the door, "Joe, you ok?"

"Come in." Joe yelled over the sound of the shower spray.

Mark opened the door and stepped into a billow of steamy air. He could just
make out the silhouette of Joe's sculpted body through the condensation on
the frosted glass that surrounded the shower. He thought wistfully of what
it would be like to strip off and join him under the hot spray.

"So you're ok?" Mark repeated.

"Yeah man, I feel great." was Joe's reply.

"Joe, I washed your clothes, I'll lay them out on the bed for you. I'm also
leaving out a pair of sweats. Might be more comfortable to lay around in
than your jeans."

"Hey thanks, bud, I appreciate it."

Mark left Joe to finish his shower and went downstairs with Chip hot on his
heels.  He opened the front door and laughed as the big dog threw himself
off the porch and into a snow drift. Never one to stand on his dignity,
Chip shuffled out of the drift, shook himself and made for the trees,
intent on taking care of business.

Knowing Chip would be a while, he closed the door and headed for the
kitchen, the thought of coffee upper-most in his mind. Mark was ready with
his cup when the last few drops fell into the carafe of the coffee
maker. Pouring a cup, he sighed with pleasure as the steam warmed his face
while taking a small sip of the hot brew.

"Is that coffee I smell?"

Joe entered the kitchen, looking refreshed and alert. He wore his own tee
shirt and the sweats Mark had left for him. He was barefoot, his hair damp
and tousled.  Mark was sure he'd never seen a more breathtaking sight in
his life.

Setting his own cup down, he got a second cup out for Joe and handed it to
him, "Help yourself bud, don't have cream but there's milk in the fridge,
sugar on the table."

"Black for me, thanks." Joe replied and poured himself a cup. He took a sip
and looked at Mark with a twinkle in his eye, "It's good."

"Thanks." Mark replied with a smile, "You hungry? I'm starving."

"Me too. I'm cooking by the way."

"Joe, you don't have to do that."

"It's the least I can do Mark, besides I like to cook." he paused for a
moment, a look of delight on his face, "Hey, I do like to cook. I
remember. I'm pretty damn good at it too."

Mark grinned and returned to the living room, opening the door for
Chip. The big dog was waiting patiently. After greeting Mark, he went
straight to the kitchen to see Joe. Mark walked in to find Joe rubbing
Chip's ears, an action that always bestowed his good will on the person who
lavished such attention on him.  "You realize you've made a friend for
life. You're really pushing the right buttons."

Joe looked up, a heated, mischievous gleam in his eyes, "Everyone has their
hot spots." he replied, his voice husky and low.

Mark's breath caught in his lungs and he felt his face flush. His cock
began to plump. He quickly marched to the refrigerator and opened the door,
letting the cool air rush over him. Struggling to keep his voice steady he
started to speak, then looked back at Joe. He flushed again when he found
Joe's gaze glued to his ass.

"I thought we could have pork chops." he managed somewhat breathlessly.

Joe's eyes traveled up the length of Mark's body, coming to rest on his
face, where he finally made eye contact. "Mmm, I'd like that." he agreed
with a sultry murmur. He held Mark's startled gaze for what, to Mark,
seemed an eternity, then seemed to collect himself. "I'll broil them. What
have you got in the way of veggies?"

Mark swallowed and turned back to the refrigerator, opening the freezer
door.  "There's corn, baby carrots, or peas."

He started to turn back to Joe when he felt a hand settle on his
shoulder. Joe leaned forward, ostensibly to look into the freezer. "Do you
like carrots....baby....carrots?"

Mark's eyes widened, he shivered when he felt Joe's breath, warm and misty,
on the back of his neck. "Um yeah, I...I do." he stuttered. His stomach
quivered with anticipation and dread as he waited for Joe's next move. He
wanted to howl with disappointment as Joe stepped back and away.

Joe's teasing caused partial erections in both men. Ignoring the results of
his tantalizing behavior, he asked about potatoes.

"Potatoes?" Mark asked almost incredulously, He couldn't believe it. Here
he stood, well on his way to a blue steeler and Joe wanted to know if he
had potatoes? Gathering his composure he answered, "Sure, they're in the
mud room, second cabinet on the right."

With a bright smile, Joe blithely rubbed his hands together. "Ok, out of
the kitchen man, the chef's going to work."

Mark shrugged and left, muttering to himself as he headed upstairs for a
shower.  He was unaware of Joe's troubled regard as he took himself to task
for almost letting things get out of hand. It was just that Mark looked so
cute and rumpled, having just gotten out of bed. Joe couldn't resist
stirring him up.

After supper, Mark showed Joe around the rest of the cabin. They ended up
in his office. Joe immediately went to Mark's drafting table, examining the
blue prints he'd been working on. The plans were for a house. It was a
rough draft accompanied by a list of notes detailing the rooms, their
function and placement.

"Are you working on this for a client?" Joe asked, turning to catch Mark's
gaze.

Mark had been watching Joe from the doorway, admiring his broad muscular
shoulders, the long, lean line of his back, his firm taut ass outlined by
the clinging fabric of his sweats as he bent over the table. Caught ogling,
he blushed.

Joe quickly turned back to the blue prints, suppressing a smile. How cute
is that blushing?, he thought to himself. If this sweet guy isn't gay and a
virgin to boot, then that hit I took has scrambled my gaydar. He considered
the thought for a moment realizing that gaydar was another memory
returned. He knew then that soon, he'd remember. Everything. Considering
his thoughts from earlier in the day, his stomach clenched.

Mark joined Joe at the draft table, determined to ignore the blush. He
explained that the blue print was a house he was designing for
himself. They began discussing the various aspects of the blue prints, the
design, structural details, construction practices etc. They were both
impressed at the knowledge each possessed and the common ground they found
themselves on. Joe found himself able to pull more and more from his memory
as they talked. He shared this detail with Mark.

Mark encouraged their discussion, carefully questioning, guiding the
conversation to topics he knew that Joe, given his occupation, would be
familiar with. The evening moved apace and finally, several hours later,
both men began to yawn.  The night before had taken a toll. Both looked
forward to an undisturbed night of rest.

Together they climbed the stairs. Joe idly reviewed their conversation,
grateful for Mark's help in stimulating his memory. They reached the
doorway to Mark's room, Mark about to continue his trek down the
hall. Totally relaxed, his mind already fogged by impending sleep, Joe
stopped Mark with a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks." he leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on Mark's cheek.  The affect
was immediate, electric. Mark drew in a sharp breath. Joe withdrew
slightly, enough to see the wide-eyed uncertainty that flitted across his
face.  Unable to resist, Joe leaned in again, his mouth softly brushing
Mark's slightly parted lips. An almost imperceptible whimper answered the
pressure of his lips.  Joe again withdrew. Mark's eyes were closed. His
expression a mix of pleasure, wonder and concern. Joe knew he had to end
this.

He squeezed Mark's shoulder, causing him to open his eyes. Joe smiled, "I
didn't mean to do that," he explained softly, "but I'm glad I did. Go to
bed kid."

Mark took immediate offence. He stepped back, "I'm not a kid. You can't be
that much older than I am."

"I'm 31," Joe admitted, "but I think we both know that age is not the real
issue here."

Mark lost his belligerence, "Five years, and, yeah, I know. Goodnight Joe."
He walked down the hall and disappeared into the guest room.

Joe retreated, his thoughts an equal mixture of regret and anger. Regret
for what couldn't be and anger for not being able to remember what was.

                                        * * *

The next day was torturous. Mark and Joe were both determined to act as
though nothing had happened. They were by turns overly gregarious and just
as suddenly silent. Being trapped together in the cabin did nothing to help
the situation. The weather had not improved. It was still blustery, the
wind making it impossible for Mark to think about making the trip to Joe's
campsite for his things.

Mark retreated to his office, adding to his blue prints with desultory
strokes. Joe retreated into a book.

Late in the afternoon, in desperation, Mark donned a snowsuit, telling Joe
he wanted to check the generator. He spent the better part of two hours
killing time by tinkering with the generator, sweeping the floor and
denuding the ceiling of cobwebs with the broom. He returned to the cabin
dusty and dirty.

Joe had started dinner. Spaghetti. With the preparations well in hand it
smelled delicious. Mark's stomach pinched and rumbled in anticipation. Joe
grinned then gave him the once over.

"Looks like you could use a shower buddy."

Mark agreed and headed upstairs. He found he was still wound fairly
tight. He returned more relaxed than when he'd left. The combination of hot
water and a satisfying jack off session, that starred Joe, had soothed his
jangled nerves.

Unbeknownst to him, Joe had taken advantage of Mark's absence to sooth his
own nerves. The sight of Mark, cheeks rosy from the cold, his hair dusty
and tousled had revved Joe's engine. Beating off in the mud room, his
imagination supplying him a picture of a nude, rampant Mark, he spewed his
seed into a paper towel and buried the evidence in the trash. Sighing with
relief, he quickly cleaned up, going back to finish dinner.

Mark poked his head in the doorway. "Anything I can do to help?"

Joe wanted to groan at the sight. Mark had come down smelling clean and
fresh, his golden brown hair still damp from the shower. Joe wanted to
tangle his fingers in the thick shiny mass and pull Mark into an endless
kiss. Having berated himself for his earlier behavior, he settled for
asking him to set the table.

"Thought we could just serve ourselves out of the pans, save on
dishes. What do you think?"

Mark agreed and they did just that, sitting down to fresh salad with
vinaigrette dressing, spaghetti with meat sauce, and warmed Italian
bread. Mark opened a bottle of red wine which nicely complimented their
meal.

The food was wonderful, the conversation on the other hand was a bit
strained.  Each man was conscious of his attraction to the other. Each was
also hyper-aware of the gold band that mocked and admonished their
desires. Sexual tension rode the air in waves.

Mark was relieved when the meal ended. His nerves were again wired
tight. He helped Joe clean up the kitchen, offering an occasional
comment. Joe did the same, but neither seemed able to keep the conversation
running. They ended their chore in silence and moved to the living
room. Joe picked up Mark's book, approving his choice and telling Mark how
much he'd enjoyed it when he read it several months ago.

"Where were you when you read it?" Mark questioned quietly, fishing to see
if Joe would remember.

"At home." Joe answered without hesitation. He looked up meeting Mark's
eyes, his own widening in comprehension. "I read this book at home. It's a
three bedroom ranch, with a living room, family room, kitchen and two
baths." Joe's eyes glittered with excitement, "There's an attached two car
garage and the full basement is finished. I use half of it as a work shop
and half as a rec room.  There's a pool table and exercise equipment."

Mark forced a forlorn smile at Joe's excitement, then asked the question he
knew would break his heart. "Who else lives there Joe?"

Joe's smile of accomplishment faded, his brow crinkled in thought. "I don't
know, I can't see anyone." he took a step toward Mark. His face flushed
with frustration. He burned with the desire to express the needs, physical
and emotional that were building inside him for Mark. "I can't remember,"
he bit out fiercely, "maybe I don't want to remember. Maybe all I want is
right here."

Just that easily, it was there between them, the open acknowledgment of
mutual desires. It would be so easy to ignore any reason for caution, to
indulge in the physical pleasures, but Mark had reached and exceeded the
point where such was possible.

He backed away, tears filling his eyes, "Don't. Don't Joe. I can't... not
when there's someone else. Not when I know you'll be leaving to go home to
someone else." he took a shaky breath, trying to hold on to emotions that
threatened to swamp him with pain and loss, "I'm going to bed." Mark turned
and headed for the stairs.

"Mark!" Joe called, pleading, "Mark, I'm sorry. Please."

Mark paused and looked back. Joe stood forlornly, his shoulders slumped in
defeat. "It's ok Joe, things will work out however they're meant to be. You
didn't do anything wrong. You didn't make me fall in love with you. I did
that all on my own." Mark continued up the stairs and down the hall to the
guest room.

Joe remained in the living room. He slumped down on the sofa, staring into
the fire with unseeing eyes. He began to question his feelings and
motivations. Yes, he had strong feelings for Mark. Mark stirred him
physically but also emotionally. There was an innocent vulnerability about
him. Joe felt a strong need to shelter and protect him. He picked up the
subtle signals Mark emitted, his loneliness, his need for love. Those
signals seemed to resonate and mesh with feelings Joe himself lived with
everyday.

Those feeling were something he didn't understand, something that filled
him with confusion and yet he somehow knew he'd lived with them for a very
long time. He wore a wedding band. A symbol of the joining of two people in
love. If he had a partner of some kind somewhere, why did he feel this way?
What kind of relationship did they have that left him feeling empty and
alone? Did the unknown partner feel the same? How could he possibly
continue to live a life devoid of love? Especially when he could see the
shining possibilities that rested with the sweet man who slept upstairs.

                                         * * *

Mark tossed and turned, finally drifting into a fitful doze. He woke with a
start as Chip pawed at his arm, whining.

"What, Chip? You gotta go out?"

Normally such a question would get a big reaction but Chip only whined
again, his paw resting on Mark's arm, his big brown eyes seeming to plead
for understanding. Confused, Mark sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He
sat quietly, listening to the silence that was broken by a faint, muffled
sound.

Suddenly wide awake, he rose soundlessly and drifted cautiously down the
hall.  Halting outside the doorway to his bedroom he heard another muffled
sound, his ears finally comprehending. It was a sob.

Mark stepped into the room. He could just make out the shape of Joe's body
under the mound of covers. "Joe?" he questioned softly.

Another choked sob was his answer. Mark strode to the bed and sat down
beside Joe. He pulled the enveloping covers away and reached for the
sobbing man, taking him firmly but gently into his arms.

"Joe," he murmured, "what is it? What's wrong, baby?"

He rocked Joe slowly, holding him tightly, his hands running soothingly
over the taut muscles of his back. Joe tried to answer but tears made most
of what he said incoherent. Mark caught the word 'remembered' and something
that sounded like, 'Ann's gone', but he wasn't sure. Could Ann be Joe's
wife? If so, where had she gone, and why? Was that why Joe was so upset?
Mark's brow was creased with worry. Whatever was going on, Joe had
remembered something that was causing him terrible pain. Mark bit his lip,
wishing he could take the pain away.

"Shh, baby, it's ok, it's gonna be ok." Mark promised, hoping that he spoke
the truth. He continued to hold Joe, murmuring softly while gently
caressing the smooth warm skin of his back and shoulders. Gradually Joe's
sobs quieted, his body going lax as exhaustion claimed him. Mark pushed him
back, lowering him to the pillows. As he made to rise, Joe grasped his
hand.

"Don't go," he pleaded, his voice a raw croak, barely intelligible.

Mark returned the pressure of his hand, "I'm not leaving Joe, I'm just
going to the bathroom. I'll be right back sweetheart."

In the bathroom, Mark took a washcloth out of the cupboard and wet it with
cool water. He also grabbed a box of tissues off the vanity and the small
trash container from under the sink. Returning to Joe, he handed him the
tissues.

"Here, babe, blow." he instructed.

Joe sat up and followed Mark's orders, blowing his nose and wiping his
eyes.  Mark held out the trash can for the soiled tissues, then took the
cool damp wash cloth and tenderly bathed Joe's face. He returned everything
to the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and the bottle of
ibuprofen.

"I don't know about you babe, but when I cry I always end up with a
headache.  Shall we beat it to the punch?" At Joe's nod, he shook three
tablets into Joe's hand and gave him the water, watching solicitously as he
downed them one by one.

Setting the glass and bottle on the bedside stand, Mark ordered Joe to move
over.  Joe readily complied and Mark slid into bed behind him, spooning him
as he snaked his arm around Joe's waist. Their bodies settled together,
melding with ease. Both sighed contentedly and were soon fast asleep.

                                          * * *

Mark murmured sleepily as cool air replaced the warmth he was wrapped
around.  The blankets settled back over him and were tucked tight. He
drifted away.

Sometime later, again there was movement. The bed dipped under the weight
of a returning body. Mark took a deep breath and sighed, his eyelids
fluttering, opening as sleepy hazel eyes met alert blues.

"Morning." Joe rasped, his voice was still husky from last night's
strain. He was levered up on one elbow, leaning over Mark. "You gotta pee?"
he asked with a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

Mark's eyes widened even more and he nodded.

"Go to it." Joe ordered.

Mark scrambled out of bed, his face flushing at the sight of the morning
wood that tented the thin fabric of his boxers. He hurried toward the
bathroom, pausing at Joe's voice.

"Babe."

Mark turned his head, drinking in the sight of Joe as he reclined with
negligent ease under the covers, "Use a little of that mouthwash I left out
by the sink.  Hmm?" Mark nodded, blushing again, silently cursing himself,
when Joe winked.

Mark's thoughts were scrambled. This wasn't the same man he held in his
arms last night. This Joe was cool and confident, sure and in charge. Mark
felt his stomach quiver. He knew Joe's memory had returned. Apparently Joe
accepted whatever had been revealed. Mark was ready to hear him out, but he
still wasn't going to share. If Joe had a wife or whatever somewhere, Mark
was kicking him out of his bed. On that issue he remained adamant.

He emptied his bladder and shook off. Washing his hands he used the mouth
wash and returned to the bedroom. Joe had remained as he was. At Mark's
approach he pulled back the covers, inviting him in. Mark swallowed hard at
what was revealed by the opened covers. Joe was completely and gloriously
naked. His penis was plumping, ripening for use. Mark uttered a silent
prayer for strength and lay down, relieved when Joe threw the covers back
over the two of them. He was instantly enveloped in Joe's warmth and
scent. His cock stirred.

Joe leaned over him and cupped his stubbled cheek in his hand, stroking
gently.  "Thank you for last night." His lips brushed softly over
Mark's. Mark nodded, afraid to speak, afraid he'd squeak like an adolescent
boy on the threshold of puberty.

"I remembered Mark. Everything. Everyone.

Mark nodded again, apprehension filling him. Joe saw the emotion shadow his
eyes and moved quickly to counter it. "There's no wife Mark. I'm gay. My
partner, Andrew, has been gone for three years now. I came to the park, to
that place to be with And's memory. It was there we spoke our vows to each
other."  Joe paused and took a shaky breath, gathering his composure, "I
wanted it to be in that place where I took this off." He slid the ring off
his finger and reached across Mark to lay it on the bedside table. "I
wanted to tell Andrew one final time how much I loved him, but how much I
needed to let go. How much I needed to go on with my life."

Slow tears trickled down Joe's cheeks, Mark reached up to gently wipe them
away. Joe caught his hand and tenderly kissed his fingertips, "We haven't
known each other very long and I don't know how to explain it, maybe
there's no need for explanations, but I've found love again. I've found it
in your shining eyes, your generous heart, and your gentle soul." Joe
bestowed a feathery kiss with each pronouncement of Mark's attributes. "Did
you mean what you said last night, about loving me?"

At Mark's nod he insisted, "Tell me. Say the words, baby. Please. I need to
hear you say the words."

Mark smiled, his smile radiant, beatific, angelic. "I love you Joe, with
all my heart."

"Thank God." Joe sighed. His mouth closed over Mark's. Simultaneous moans
filtered through joined lips.

Released from the restraints that held them from each other, passion
bloomed between them. Mark squirmed as he felt Joe's fully erect cock press
against his own. Only the thin fabric of his boxers separated them, fabric
that even now was becoming soaked by the copious juices that were leaking
from both of them. They undulated slowly against each other.

Joe's seeking tongue demanded entrance. With a sigh Mark opened for him and
whimpered as Joe's tongue moved sinuously over his own, teasing and
exploring.  Mark lay with his eyes closed, so lost in Joe's kiss he almost
forgot to breathe. He gasped for air when Joe pulled back and gasped again,
shivering as Joe attacked his ear, nibbling his lobe, licking the outer
curves.

When his tongue swept inside, Mark tightened his hold on Joe's shoulders
and whispered, "Oh, God, I'm getting dizzy."

Joe chuckled, "Looks like Chip isn't the only one with sensitive
ears. Guess I better stop. Don't want you passing out on me. I want you
wide awake when I take you."

Mark met Joe's eyes, his own filled with apprehension, "Joe, I've never
been with anyone. I've never been fucked."

"I know, babe." he softly stroked Mark's cheek and smiled at his
questioning look, "Somehow I knew you were a virgin." Mark's face burned
with embarrassment. Joe grinned, "God, I love it when you blush, it's so
cute," he teased, "it makes me hot, and, baby? You don't have to worry,
you're not going to be fucked." at Mark's look of disappointment, he
quickly added, "I'm going to make love to you. We'll save that hot wild
fuck for when you're a little more experienced."

Mark frowned and pouted, giving Joe a look from under his lashes, trying to
minimize his embarrassment. Joe leaned in, capturing Mark's bottom lip with
his teeth, sucking it into his mouth while uttering a drawn out, "Mmmm." he
released him with a lick and a murmured, "Sweet."

Joe pulled Mark close, caressing his body. Taking his mouth again in a
smooth, hot kiss, he ran his hands slowly over Mark's arms, chest and
stomach. Mark was soon squirming, quivering, whimpering his need. Joe's
hand slid under the waistband of Mark's boxers, finding his throbbing
cock. His fingers wrapped around the swollen girth and gently
pumped. Mark's body arched in reaction. He pulled his mouth from Joe's,
calling out his pleasure.

"Feels good doesn't it, babe?" Joe's eyes glittered with fierce
possessiveness.  Mark was his. He intended to make an unmistakable claim on
the sweet angel that writhed under his hands.  He released Mark's cock, his
hands moving to the waistband of his boxers.

"Lift up babe," he ordered gruffly, "these have got to go."

Barely coherent, Mark obeyed. Joe's touch was sweeping him onto another
plain of existence. His body shook with tension and desire. His own hands
roved over the muscled planes of Joe's shoulders, back and chest. He
delighted in the feel of the silky hair that slid over his fingers. He
looked down, watching as Joe relieved him of his boxers. His gaze was drawn
to Joe's groin. He'd felt the heat and hardness of Joe's cock against him
but he'd never seen it's full rampant glory. As with everything else about
him, Joe's cock was a work of art.

Fully eight inches, the thick, vein wrapped, ivory column was topped by a
plump, plum shaped head. Precum wet the tip, enhancing its blood engorged
blush. Mark swallowed a sudden lump in his throat at the thought of taking
that monster inside his untried anal passage. His doubtful, worried gaze
met Joe's.

"It'll be alright Mark. I'm going to take my time getting you ready." Joe
slid up the length of Mark's body, his mouth taking Mark's in a heated
kiss, "Do you trust me?" he smiled at Mark's affirmative nod, "That's good,
babe," he returned to Mark's ear, gently biting the lobe, taking pleasure
in his breathy moans, "by the time I finish with you, you'll be begging me
to take you. I promise."

Joe licked and sucked his way down the length of Mark's neck, to the hollow
of his throat and across his collar bone. He made a beeline for the flat
disk of one nipple, tugging the beaded tip lightly with his teeth. Mark
shuddered and groaned.  Joe worked first one then another hot spot. His
mouth continued its downward trek, finally reaching its ultimate goal.

Mark's cock was granite hard, a steady stream of precum leaking from the
engorged cap. "Beautiful," Joe whispered.

His heated breath was an added, shocking caress. His thumb smoothed the
warm sticky fluid over taut reddened skin. He opened his mouth and slowly
engulfed his lover, his tongue swirling, teasing, savoring. Joe held tight
as Mark bucked convulsively, his hands clenched in the sheets, incredulous
moans wrung from his throat.

Joe worked Mark's cock with a steady unrelenting rhythm, working in concert
with Mark's instinctive, upward thrusts. He knew by the sound of Mark's
cries, the tightening of his body, that he wouldn't last long. Sliding a
hand between Mark's thighs, he lightly massaged his tight ball sack,
throwing him over the edge. Thick hot seed spurted down Joe's throat. He
drew back to capture the salty/sweet fluid on his tongue, savoring his
lover's essence, capturing every drop.

Mark lay still except for the heaving movement of his chest as he recovered
from the most powerful orgasm he'd ever experienced. He opened his eyes,
his expression sleepy, sated. His gaze was captured by Joe's, who watched
him with expectant, tender concern. A slow grin spread over Mark's face. He
laughed. He looped an arm around Joe's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. A
kiss that tasted of Joe and musky essence of man. A kiss filled with love
and joy.

With a gentle shove, Mark rolled Joe under him, caressing his
sweat-dampened skin. Having learned his lessons well, he lavished the same
attention and touches on Joe that had so recently driven him over the edge.

Joe lay acquiescent, reveling in Mark's caresses, his body humming with
anticipation, his soul nourished by the return of this most treasured of
things. A lover's touch. He allowed Mark his explorations until his body
was taut with need. When Mark's hand moved to his groin, the fingers
enwrapping his aching shaft, Joe placed his hand over Mark's, halting him.

"This is my show babe, I'm making love to you, remember?"

"Joe, I want to make you feel the way you made me feel. I've waited so long
to share this with a lover. With you. Let me do this. Please?"

Mark's eye's were filled with such genuine need that Joe relented,
admitting to himself that he wanted, needed, Mark's attention every bit as
much as Mark needed to give it. He nodded and fell back with a groan as
Mark's tongue slid over the thick helmet that topped his erection. He
shuddered at the slick wet heat that bathed his cock, tickling,
teasing. Mark's tongue was painting him with liquid lust.

At Mark's urging, he spread his thighs, his hips heaving upward with
pleasured surprise as Mark first laved then suckled both fully laden balls
where they hung suspended in their pouch.

"Ungh... damn babe, where'd you learn that?" Joe grunted.

Mark flashed him a devilish grin, "I read a lot. There's some interesting
sites on the internet, one in particular."

"Oh yeah? Bet I know which one you're talking about. Remind me to send them
another contribution." Joe laughed, then groaned again as Mark returned to
his objective.

Joe felt Mark lick his way back to the tip of his straining rod. He felt
Mark's mouth open. Felt warm breath feather over his moist skin. Felt his
cock enveloped in hot wet velvet, some of which wiggled and stroked,
inflaming every nerve ending it touched. Soft lips firmly banded his shaft,
sliding first down, then up.  Each slide brought suction. Suction and
rhythm increased moment by moment until Joe became a mindless slave to the
sensual ministrations of his lover. With pounding heart and breath rushing
to fill laboring lungs, he panted and groaned, crying out as he erupted,
delivering shot after shot of rich creamy seed to fill his lover's mouth
and throat.

Mark swallowed again and again, his eyes closed, his senses fully attuned
to the feel and flavor of Joe's liquid offering. His "mmm" of pleasure
pulled another moan from Joe and a last convulsive spurt of semen. He
slowly withdrew, releasing Joe's spent member, leaving it with a few final
cleansing licks.

Joe reached down, pulling him up until they were face to face. Their lips
met and opened, tongues exploring with languid grace. Joe broke the kiss,
pulling back so he could fully focus on Mark's face. "Are you sure you've
never done that before? I gotta tell you babe, if you get any better I may
have a heart attack."

Mark smirked and playfully punched him, "Cut it out. No I've never done
that before." he paused and bit his lip, a slight blush tinting his cheeks,
"I will admit I've practiced on a few bananas, but they never delivered
such a tasty load." he gave his eyebrows a lascivious wiggle.

Joe laughed and pulled Mark down on his chest, winding his arms around him,
"Babe, you're priceless."

Mark snuggled in with a contented sigh.

They rested comfortably together until Mark stirred. "I should go see about
Chip, he's waiting for breakfast and I know he's got to go out."

Joe's arms tightened, "Already taken care of sweetheart. You're not going
anywhere but under me."

Suiting actions to words, he flipped Mark over on his stomach and draped
his big, furred body over the younger man's. His already swelling cock
wedged between the rounded mounds of Mark's ass and he slowly undulated,
emulating the thrust and withdrawal of sexual play.

"Time for the main event, Mark." he whispered, licking and teasing Mark's
ear, "Are you ready?"

Mark was already panting, "Yes... no... aren't you going to... don't you
need to...  oh God." he groaned. His confusion was aided by the fact that
Joe was lightly biting him. Soft stinging bites followed by warm, soothing
licks, right where his neck met his shoulder. Mark shuddered.

"Yes I am going to. Relax baby, feel for me, just feel."

Joe sat up, straddling Mark's hips. Precum left a shimmering trail against
the warm lightly bronzed hue of Mark's skin where it met Joe's dripping
cock. Joe massaged Mark's shoulders and back, leaning down again and again
to place random kisses along the way. His tongue traced the subtle ridge of
his spine, the slick tantalizing trail sending electric shivers through
Mark.

Moving further down, his big callused hands settled on the taut, rounded
globes that had drawn his attention from their first meeting. They were
massaged, squeezed, stroked and kissed. Joe returned to the base of Mark's
spine. Parting those muscular mounds, he followed the lightly furred trail
to his objective, a taut brownish pink rosebud, guardian of paradise.

At the sight, a primitive growl rose from Joe's throat. Another burst of
precum slid from the slit that topped the heavy pulsing head of his
cock. Joe took the slick fluid on his finger and transferred it to that
tight pucker, anointing, claiming. His lubed finger made a shallow foray
into the tight ring, gliding over the hot, silky, inner flesh.

Mark's whimper shot straight to the primitive libido of rutting man. Joe
bent, inhaling deeply. He was instantly captured by the rich musky scent of
his man.  The heady spice inundated his senses, drawing him in, tearing
away inhibitions.  His tongue flicked out, sliding over the velvet rucked
flesh. His lover's flavor exploded on his tongue and with another primal
growl he began to feed. With near savage intensity, his tongue ravaged the
quivering flesh beneath him. He licked and laved the clenched pucker,
oiling, lubricating until it yielded, opening for the stabbing thrust of
his determined tongue.

So lost was he in the feast, he barely heard the desperate cries of his
lover. His arms enwrapped his struggling prey, holding it steady for his
devouring. He stopped only when hot liquid splashed against his leg. Newly
voided semen, fresh hot manjuice, spurting into the sheets below Mark's
straining body.

Panting, Joe rolled Mark. Seeing the gelatinous puddle, he dipped a finger
in, bringing the warm sticky fluid to his mouth, sucking the rewards of his
labors.  Primal man receded, replaced by solicitous lover. He drank in the
vacant, sated expression on his lovers face, a satisfied smile curving his
lips. Joe bent, taking Mark's mouth in a slow, melting kiss, sharing the
flavors of their love making.  Without a word he pushed Mark's legs up,
again exposing his tempting pucker.

He reached to the beside stand and in the top drawer, found the tube of
lubricant he'd discovered earlier. Losing the cap, he squeezed a dollop on
his middle finger. Using his thumb, he spread and warmed it. Slick finger
connected with loosened sphincter and slid with slow, exquisite grace to
the hilt.

"Joe!" Mark was drawn out of his post orgasmic stupor as Joe's finger found
his prostate. His body bowed, straining upward.

Joe watched with satisfaction as Mark's cock firmed and filled. He worked
his finger in and out, eventually adding a second, more lube, then a third,
preparing stretching, opening. Mark squirmed and panted, his hips straining
as he helped impale himself on Joe's broad, tapered fingers. His movements
became maddened, frantic as he wordlessly begged to be taken.

Joe leaned forward, taking Mark's moans into his mouth, his skull
reverberating with his insistent cries. "What do you need babe?" his voice
was a husky sensual caress.

"You! In me... in me... in me. Now, now, now! Please Joe, please." Just as
predicted, Mark begged to be taken.

Joe withdrew his fingers, lubed his cock and placed the head against Mark's
tunnel, pushing forward until the head slid past the tight ring of muscle
guarding the entrance. Both men groaned and froze.

Seeing the grimace of pain that crossed Mark's face, Joe murmured soothing
words to his man, "I know it hurts baby. Try to relax, bear down. I love
you babe.  Let me in. Let me in babe."

Joe held steady, his hands sliding over Mark's thighs and down, caressing
the taut muscular globes he speared between. Tentative movement pulled him
deeper, a heartfelt and hungry "yes" from Mark, released him from
self-imposed stasis. A slow, shallow thrust began the journey. Each gentle
inward glide brought him closer and closer to being fully imbedded in his
lover. A final thrust, a convulsive heave, he hilted and held.

Moans and gasping pants broke the silence. Joe lay still, eye's closed,
every sense focused on the joining. He was wholly attuned to that part of
himself buried deep, fisted in hot silk, attuned to the silk itself, the
lining of the sheath that held him, welcomed him. That physical part of his
lover that took him in, made them one, made him nearly whole again.

He opened his eyes, his gaze connecting with Mark's. There in those shining
hazel depths he was renewed, reborn, taken, accepted, loved, made
whole. His breath ratcheted to a higher level, his body began to move,
primal rhythm was established and carried on with endless motion. Each
thrust brought and bestowed electrifying pleasure. Sweat slick skin slid
and slapped together. The heady, warm aroma of sex filled flared nostrils
as grunts, moans and cries of passion and pleasure filled the ears. The
pressure built, built until they hovered, balanced on the edge, where Joe
savagely pushed, plunging them into the abyss.

Mark howled his release, his cock spewing between their surging
bodies. Every nerve exploded, imploded then burst anew as wave after wave
of orgasmic intensity shook him. He collapsed, whimpering, lost in the
dizzying pleasure that inundated every sense.

Joe followed, bellowing, releasing his seed, hard pulsing volleys that
clenched his gut with ecstacy and drenched the clinging sheath that gripped
and milked and cradled him with volcanic heat. Shaking, spent, he draped
himself over the steaming warmth of his partner's body, giving in to the
welcome oblivion that beckoned.

Endless moments passed in silence, until sated bodies stirred. Joe lifted
his head from where it rested on Mark's shoulder. He grazed his fingertips
softly down Mark's stubbled cheek.

"Hey." he whispered, then kissed the slow smile that spread across his
lover lips.

Chuckles broke the silence, giggles of joy and abandon that had them
shaking against each other as they reveled in the afterglow. Eventually
sobering they lay together, hands idly wandering over warm, slightly sticky
skin, lightly massaging, learning the firm, muscle covered planes, hills
and valleys of the bodies that had together performed such miracles.

"Babe?" Joe murmured.

"Yeah?"

"You stink."

Mark burst out laughing. "I was just thinking the same thing about you,
stud." he broke from Joe's hold and climbed out of bed holding out his
hand. "Shower with me."

Joe groaned and edged his way across the bed. Grabbing Mark's hand he let
himself be pulled up and into his arms. He was rewarded with a warm, soft
and sultry kiss.

"Come on. We'll get cleaned up and have some lunch. I gotta let poor Chip
out too." they headed for the shower, "After lunch you can show me where
you want your workshop." Mark halted, a tentative, hopeful look on his
face, the question clear in his eyes.

Joe grinned, fighting the tears that stung his own eyes, "Well don't just
stand there, babe. We've got a house to build."

Mark answered with his own grin and led his partner into the shower, into
his life and into their future together.