by Andrew Grey
“He died.” Luka handed me another envelope. This one was an official letter explaining that William Westerland died in a training exercise some forty years ago. The incident was an accident of some sort. It was official and bland. Luka handed me the last envelope, and I pulled out a single-page letter, the ink very faded and the paper nearly falling apart from years of handling.
My Samuel,
You know I hate to leave, but I must. This is the last, the end of it. I will be home in two weeks and then we can start the rest of our lives together. I’m mailing this to you before I leave town because I don’t dare send you anything through official post. Know that you will be in my thoughts and heart until I return.
Your William
I set the page on the table, handling it carefully. “Uncle Samuel did have someone.”
“He had a lover,” Luka confirmed. “He never talk about him. I find letters one day after he drink too much. Then I no see again. But I watch where he put them.”
The letter was dated from the late seventies. Uncle Samuel had loved, and it seemed he’d been loved in return. It was a comfort that Uncle Samuel hadn’t been alone his entire life.
“Did he say anything when he was drunk?”
Luka nodded and turned away. “Samuel say that he was coward and let William go. That he didn’t hold on to him when he should have.” Luka turned back to look at me. “I saw Samuel cry. Then I help put him to bed and he sleep and never talk about it again.”
Luka took my glass and set it on the table. Taking my hand, he tugged me to my slightly unsteady feet and led me toward the stairs. I went readily. At the top, Luka pressed me against the wall, kissing me demandingly, the cool plaster against my back. I wound my arms around Luka’s waist, returning his intensity before pushing him, fumbling a little, toward the bedroom.
I should have eaten more at the lunch, but I hadn’t been hungry, and now the alcohol made my head light.
Thankfully, Luka didn’t seem to have the same problem. He got me to the bed and tugged at his clothes. I fumbled with mine, giggling like an idiot when my fingers didn’t do what I wanted them to. When it came to drinking, I was a world-class lightweight. I usually limited myself to one or two, but I’d had three large drinks and the dutch courage coursed through my veins. I somehow got my clothes off, strewing them on the floor, then tugged a hot, naked Luka down on top of me. I needed his heat and energy. Hell, I wanted his passion and to forget for a little while.
“Fuck me, Luka. Make me forget about everything but you.”
He shook his head, and I was so confused. “I never fuck you. Fucking is….”
I loved the way he said the word from deep in his throat. It sent a thrill running through me, and I tugged him closer.
Luka pulled away, clasping my chin. “Is that all you want? This fucking?” He leaned closer. “This is no more?” He backed away and climbed off the bed.
“Luka, I don’t understand….”
He returned to lean over me, his lips close and eyes blazing. “I never just fuck you… I only make love. Animals… this fuck… I never.” He glared at me, and if my head had been working correctly, I probably would have backed away. But in my compromised mental state, I liked that idea—someone to care for me, where sex was more than sex—and I pulled Luka closer and kissed him with all the intensity I could muster as my mind receded and other parts of me took over.
Luka was a furnace pressing to me, and I luxuriated in his heat. Closing my eyes, I reveled in his touch. In the way he made my skin come alive. In the zing that raced through me, too fast to be controlled, as he flicked at a nipple, then clasped it between two fingers, just shy of pain, but with perfect intense pleasure, adding more heat to the fire that burned hot from inside. Luka played me like a fine instrument. What I loved most was that he knew how to touch me. Some guys were too gentle and others too rough, but he was the perfect balance of both, always careful, but strong and sure of himself.
“Yes!” I cried as he held my ass in both hands, cupping me and pressing me upward against him, my cock sliding along his hip. I growled and wound my hand around the back of Luka’s neck, bring him down into a kiss. He was amazing, his eyes deep, boring into me, adding to the excitement and warmth. This wasn’t just having sex. I knew how amazing that could be, but this was better. Maybe it was the drink, but I felt my guard lowering, and I stroked Luka’s cheek, holding him, looking into his eyes and seeing something I had seen rarely in my life: true and honest tenderness. And I let go, giving myself over to him.
“I make love to you now,” he whispered before kissing me and reaching toward the nightstand. There were still supplies there, thankfully.
I waited, holding my breath, expecting Luka to grab one of the condoms and enter me. Instead, he went for the lube, slicked his fingers, and slowly pressed them into me. The exquisite burn lasted seconds, and then my head spun as Luka rubbed that spot inside me, building on excitement with excitement, until it was like waves of pleasure rolling through me, back and forth, ripples on the pond of my body.
I wanted more, needed that little extra stimulation, craved it. Luka knew it too; I could tell by the way he looked at me.
“Not yet, Jonah,” he warned and held me on the edge of release for what seemed like hours. My head throbbed and ached, my breath hitching and body tensing by the second until Luka backed away.
A rip and then Luka fumbled against my legs. I didn’t need to see to know what was going on. Then Luka shifted, hovering over me, heat increasing as he pressed to my entrance, holding still. I’d taken him the night before, and I could still feel him. Luka was a big man, and I groaned as he breached me and then slid deeper, every contour of his cock sending more and more passion racing through me. Sweat beaded all over me, and I inhaled deeply, kissing Luka hard, needing to make him mine just as much as he was making me his. That idea should have scared the shit out of me, but at that moment, it was comforting. When Luka’s hips pressed to my ass, I finally took a breath, willing my body to relax and revel in the sea of sensation.
“You beautiful,” Luka said, and I rolled my eyes, cupping his cheeks. I was about to protest when he shifted the angle, pulling out, sending the breath whirling from me.
He was so incredible, just looking at him made it hard to breathe at the best of times, and as he watched me so intently, I wanted to shy away. I knew I was good-looking. A certain level of handsomeness was required in order to do my job. Producers wanted a particular look, and during my career, I’d been chosen enough times to stroke my ego. But being watched as though I was the center of the very damn universe was…. He made me feel ten feet tall even lying on my back.
“You’re stunning,” I croaked, “and you make me feel like a star.” It wasn’t likely Luka would understand that double meaning, but it was truthful.
“You my star.” Luka kissed me hard, stopping the conversation as he gently rolled his hips. He was heaven, holding me, filling me, connecting to me in a way I didn’t think was possible. I’d read books where this feeling of connection with another person was described, but I’d thought it a writer’s convention. It wasn’t.
Now what the hell was I supposed to do? I shut my eyes tightly and turned my face into the pillow.
“Look,” Luka whispered. He stoked my cheek, connecting with me in yet another way as he drove me higher and higher. I wanted to touch myself, the urge nearly overpowering, but Luka released my cheeks and held my hands over my head, driving into me. My entire body shook, cock bouncing against my belly. That was all the sensation I could get and I was already on the edge.
“Close,” I gasped between possessive kisses. Luka held my hands tighter, driving deeper, pushing me higher and higher until my mind gave itself to him because I had no other choice. Everything—body, mind, and soul—centered on him. It was both frightening and exhilarating. For the moment, I centered on the latter. After all, Luka was deep inside me, throbbing, filling, emptying.
“I feel you,” Luka
said. “I hear you… breathing… you shake… I listen.” His thoughts became just fragments, and that was fine. It told me Luka was just as gone as I was. When he released my hands, I wrapped my arms around his chest, holding him to me. I needed as many points of contact as I could possibly get.
I didn’t understand why this was happening or why I wanted him so badly, but I did. I needed his touch, inside and out.
Luka backed away, and I groaned, fearful he was pulling out. Instead, he gazed at me, placing his hand in the center of my chest. He said nothing, but I still felt what he wanted. His hand was warm, my heart beating faster, sending more and more heat jetting through my veins until I could contain it no longer and came with a blinding flash with Luka following right behind, kissing me through his release, grounding the energy in my body.
I lay still, luxuriating in Luka’s arms. I lost track of time after Luka returned from cleaning us up. The day had started out sad, but he’d made up for it… for a while at least.
“I go work,” Luka whispered, then leaned over me and kissed me gently before climbing out of bed.
I slowly rolled over, unable not to watch him. I needed to see him because I needed to know he was real. “I understand.”
Luka pulled up his pants, covering his perfect butt. I wished he could stay but was afraid to tell him. I was already getting twisted around over him and needed some time to figure out how I felt. I knew this was ridiculous. I had just met the guy a few days ago, but no one had ever touched me the way he did. And I wasn’t only thinking about the sex, which was awesome. He was kind and caring. He’d understood how hard the funeral was and comforted me. It was a little thing, but it meant a great deal.
Luka finished dressing and left the room. I closed my eyes, listening as he walked through the house and closed the front door. And once again I was alone.
BE CAREFUL what you wish for, you might just get it.
I sat in the house the rest of the day, knowing I should probably start making lists of things to do and deciding on what I wanted to keep and what to sell, but I wasn’t in the mood and it seemed like the wrong thing to do today. This should be about Uncle Samuel and saying a proper goodbye. Of course, he was still with me, sitting on the table in front of the chair I sat in. In the end I wandered the house going through things, opening drawers and closets, just to glean a little more about my uncle.
I scoured the kitchen and put together a quick dinner from what I found. If I stayed much longer, I would need more groceries. I sat in front of the television, watching reruns and not paying much attention. Mostly I tried to understand my fascination with Luka. Even now, I wondered what he was doing and if that witch at the restaurant was treating him well. I stood and nearly left to get a beer three times just to check that he was okay and that she wasn’t mistreating him. But Luka was an adult and didn’t need me fighting his battles for him. He had his pride, and I wasn’t going to take that away from him. I knew the strength of pride. Sometimes it was all you had left, being able to hold your head high when you were living with eight people in a shithole place, existing on ramen noodles just to keep from starving.
It occurred to me then that Luka must have walked to work from the house, since the limousine dropped him off after the funeral.
I jumped to my feet, found my shoes, grabbed my wallet and keys, and hurried out to the car. The drive didn’t take long, and I was able to find a parking spot near the diner. I went inside and found a place by the bar. It was hopping tonight, with servers bringing out plate after plate of wings from the kitchen. I ordered a dozen and a beer, watching for Luka.
He cleared tables as quickly as they emptied and hurried over when he saw me. “You come—why?”
“Did you walk?” I asked, and Luka nodded. “How late do you work?”
He checked the clock on the wall. “One hour.”
“Then I’ll take you home.” There was no need for him to walk, especially since it had started to rain and was going to continue for much of the night. “You’ll get very wet.”
Luka smiled, and one of the servers called for him to take care of a table. He hurried away, and I turned back to the bar to wait for my food. I had an hour and wasn’t in a hurry, which was good because the Grill was really busy, even this late at night.
My wings arrived and I ate them with relish, using ranch dressing instead of blue cheese, licking the buffalo sauce off my fingers between each wing. They were messy and amazing, and by the time I was done, my mouth tingled and I was satiated… at least for food. Seeing Luka work and hustle was sexy, and I tried not to openly ogle, but it was difficult. I paid my bill and used a ton of napkins to clean my hands.
“Did you eat?” I asked Luka when he sat down. “You can have the last couple.”
“Please.”
I pushed the plate to him, and Luka ate the last few wings. I got him napkins and let him be. It was nice to see him happy and relaxed. By the time he was done, I’d finished the last of my beer, and we headed for the door.
It was raining heavily as we stepped outside, and I raced to the car, unlocking the doors. Luka got inside and I did the same, pulling the door closed as quickly as I could.
“Where do you live?”
Luka pointed to the right, and I started the car and made the turn. He pointed a few blocks off the main street, and I stopped. Luka got out. “Thank you.” He smiled, hurried to a white house, and used the side entrance. I waited until a light came on in the second-floor windows and then drove back to Uncle Samuel’s. If I were honest, I had hoped Luka would want to come back with me, but maybe this was for the best.
The drive home took a while, as the rain had picked up, growing heavier by the second. I made it back to the house and sat in the car because I was going to get drenched as soon as I set foot outside the car. So I used the time to think… and got nowhere.
My phone vibrated and I picked it up. “Hey, Chet.”
“How was the funeral?”
“Memorial service,” I corrected.
“Okay, smartass. How was the service where you sent your uncle sailing off into the sunset in fiery glory, Viking-style?” I could practically see him rolling his eyes. “Did it go okay?”
“Yes. I found out a lot about him.”
Chet laughed. “Let me guess, the church was filled with teenage boys he helped bring to manhood.”
I shook my head. “Not funny!” Sometimes Chet ran his mouth without engaging his brain. “My uncle was gay. We found some letters and a card from a man named William. From what little there was, it seemed they were lovers. He died a long time ago. And as for the church, it was filled, standing room only as far as I can tell. Uncle Samuel was well loved.”
“Wow.” The humor had disappeared from his voice.
“Yeah. His lover was military, and from the letter I saw, he was nearly done and then he and Samuel planned to be together.” I swallowed as the rain began letting up. I figured I could make a run for it in a few minutes. “Then he was killed in an accident of some sort.” I tried and failed to keep the impending sob out of my voice.
“I take it the service was more than just a visit to church. Tell me about it.”
“I don’t know what to say. People spoke a lot about my uncle, about how generous he was with his money and time. There had to be three hundred people there, and I think I knew him the least. Then one of the ladies hinted that Samuel wasn’t always alone, and Luka had seen the letters and gave them to me. It was almost surreal. In a way I’m getting to know him now, and I wish I’d really been able to spend time with him.” I swore under my breath at my mother and wondered what could have been so important that she’d yanked him out of our lives. Though, knowing my mother, it could have been anything. I pulled my attention back to Chet. “Sorry….”
“I was saying, do you think your mother will tell you? That woman will do whatever she thinks is best for her and damn anyone and everyone else.” Chet hated my mother, and the feeling was completely mutual.
Leaving the two of them alone together was like pouring a gallon of gasoline onto a fire…. Just get the hell away, because the inferno was going to engulf anyone nearby.
“I have to try. I know she can be selfish and tight-lipped, especially when there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about. But I have a feeling, this time anyway, that she’ll want to tell me, because no matter what happened, she’ll think she was in the right.” I didn’t particularly want to speak to my mother. She had her life and I had mine, and that seemed to work for both of us.
“Would your dad know?” Chet asked.
“Maybe. But I’m not going to open a can of worms with him by bringing up my mother.” During the divorce, my parents evidently figured out that they hated each other. If you wanted to get a rise out of my father, just start talking about my mother. He’d go off like a roman candle with the litany of things “that woman I married when I was young and stupid” had done. My mother, on the other hand, referred to her time with my father as “the trial marriage to that jackass.” I always wondered why they got married in the first place.
“That’s probably good. At least your dad is cool and is interested in having you in his life.”
I nodded even though Chet couldn’t see me. “I like spending time with my dad, and he’s happy now. He doesn’t really dwell on the past very much. He and Mona tried to have kids after they married, but things didn’t work out. So I’m it.” I smiled when I thought of them. Dad and Mona lived in Lakeland, Florida, and were happy as clams. Mom remarried as well, and she had two more children, my half brother and sister. She doted on them and pretty much left me alone. She was happy in her own way, and surprisingly I didn’t have to see her all that often. Dad and Mona were better parents anyway. “I’ll call my mother once I can get my courage up.”
“So never, then,” Chet teased.
“Ha ha,” I groaned. The rain was letting up, so I got out of the car and headed quickly into the house. “Why do I talk to you?”