The Skin of Things

“I am always getting into trouble,” Brian said, stretching out on his stomach. “And now, to make matters worse, you’re getting me into trouble.”

“I don’t now what you mean,” Donovan told him, He was squatting on his hams, but then he stretched his body out beside Brian, and ran his hand over his shoulder blade, down the small of his back, over the softness of his buttocks.

Lazily, Brian turned and looked at him.

“Do you know that I was in high school when you were born?”

“Does that bother you?” Donovan said lightly.

“Well, yes. A little. Sometimes.”

“Um…” was all Donovan said.

Brian sat up. “Everything about this is just confounding.”

“But you’re smiling when you say that,” Donovan reminded him.

“And what are you?” Brian went on. “You’re not a boyfriend.”

“No. no, I’m not.”

“You’re not, strictly speaking, just a friend. What are you to me?”

“You are awfully concerned about these things.

“I’m me. I’m not your anything.”

“I don’t even know you’re name.”

“You’re Brian Vaughn.”

“Well, I know that.”

“And it just proves,” Donovan went on, “that I’ve listened more to you than you have to me.”

“No, it just proves that you never told me your name.”

“It actually slipped my mind. I thought you knew. I mean, it’s in my screenname.”

“Shorter really is your name?”

Brian’s arms went around him, and he smelled of salt and earth, and his breath was milky. He whispered into Donovan’s ear, “Don’t take this the wrong way—”

“That already sounds bad.”

“Please shut up,” he sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but, even though I know I have to go in a few days, even though I can’t stay, even though I would never dream of holding onto you—”

“You wouldn’t? You wouldn’t even dream about it?”

“I’m going to ignore that, and finish saying what I’m trying to say, which is I hope we’ll always be good friends. I hope we’ll always be close like this.”

Donovan reached back so that his hand was in Brian’s thick hair, and he moved around Brian’s head, and then bent back to kiss him on the scalp.

“The two of us, you and me, properly speaking, we are not a relationship. So, maybe improperly speaking we are a relationship.”

“Yes, and you’re the first real man I’ve been with, and you’re hardly out of childhood—”

“As you keep reminding me, and that’s hardly true.”

“But you’re the first one where I haven’t felt insane. A little crazy. but not insane. What’s his name?”

“Huh?”

“Well, there is someone else. I mean, there is some guy. You don’t have him yet, but he’s there. Or maybe you’re just beginning to know him. It’s not that Andy. You’re over him. Who’s the new guy?”

Donovan pushed himself back against Brian so that both of them lay on the bed and Brian was holding him. He turned to look at the other man and, touching his cheek, said, “On so many levels, talking about another man while I’m bed with another man is so unsexy.”

A small, predatory smile crossed Brian’s lips as his penis stiffened. He kissed Donovan lightly, and squeezed his hips.

“You wanna be sexy right now?”

“Yes,” said Donovan, turning to kiss him. “I want to be sexy.”

But after Brian left, he felt so good. He felt like he was melting. He wanted to be with him again. Donovan lay on the bed, and reaching for his journal, opened it. He scribbled and crossed out until he had produced a poem.

t h a t d a y

I remember one leg in the east

another in the infinite west

and you

thrusting through my mississippi

or my nile or my euphrates

threatening to break me with the force of

your sex

with the youth of your sex

and the power of that thing called love

it was an autumn

and this is winter

late december cold

heated when i remember the shine of your face

and the gloss of your face

and the sweat all on your face,

down your eternal body

paused in the illusion of its

middle at the small of your back

relaxed

sighing

that day i was like the goddess enthroned

enthroning

and you were, shaking

quaking

coming,

coming home

The IM on his computer whistled and he jumped up.

HI!

Hey. You. I miss you. Or is that too much to say?

No. I was just thinking about you.

Donovan was about to type, I’m getting hard just thinking about you.

I promise I won’t leave without coming to say goodbye.

You better not.

I promise. I’ll talk to you soon, Don.

Yes you will, Brian.

The night before he left, Brian Vaughn came over. He crawled in the semi open window and made quite a racket squeezing through.

“I’m going. I’m going tomorrow,” he said. “And then I won’t see you.”

“You can always come back.”

“And I will.”

Brian hugged him quickly and then they kissed.

Kneeling on the bed in the dark of night, Donovan Shorter held the lapels of Brian Vaughn’s collar in his hands and Brian looked at him uncertainly.

Then they kissed hard, running their hands through each others hair over each other’s bodies, gently removing clothes. Donovan had been thinking of how he would regret Brian’s absence with the regret of his body, which was deeper and more aching that any other regret he knew. Not taking off these clothes, not running his hands up and down the soft warmth of his skin, not delighting in the light hairs that went up and down Brian, not taking pleasure in pressing his face to the throat and sternum and breast and stomach, and inhaling him with deep breaths was no option. He would have ached with grief if he didn’t have this lovemaking and tasting and taking.

“Do you want me to sleep here?” Brian whispered when their bodies were pressed together, and Brian’s long legs were wrapped around Donovan’s.

“Yes,” Donovan said, feeling safe and happy.

“Do you want to be in me tonight?” Brian whispered. “You’ve never been in me. I want you to if you want to.”

Donovan nodded. “I do.”

“Good,” Brian said. “I think I’d be sad if that never happened. I think I want that very much tonight.”

Brian took a deep breath and squeezed his thighs tighter around Don. He hugged him tightly and said, “I love you. And if you love me even a little bit like I do you, then that’s good.”

They lay in the dark, quiet except for breathing, and now Donovan said, “Ezekiel.”

“What?” Brian turned on his side.

“You asked me if there was another man, someone else who was on my mind, who I loved.”

“And you said you didn’t want to—”

“Ezekiel. Ezekiel Anders.”

“And why are you talking about him now?”

“Because at this moment I realize how much I love him, by how much I loved you, and I thought that two men who I love so much, should not be secrets from each other.”

“You…”

“Love you.” Don said.