A Love Like Fireflies

A gay story: A Love Like Fireflies This story involves acts of both sex and romance between consenting adult males, so if that’s not allowed where you live then you should march in the streets. I’m releasing this story under Creative Commons by-sa-nc license, which means you can do pretty much whatever you want with it, as long as you give me credit and don’t use it for commercial purposes of any kind. If you enjoy the story, I’d love to hear from you. Thanks for reading.

CHAPTER ONE

“Models aren’t paid to think. You are paid to stand the way I tell you, and look the way I tell you, and breathe if I give you permission, got that?” This stream of invective was delivered in a choking cloud of cigarette smoke. “Now get the fuck away from me, you fucking meat puppet.”

Pete had no response prepared for such an overwhelming load of abuse being heaped on him at once. With a blank, glazed look, he returned to his mark in front of the cameras, next to his fellow model.

They were standing in a cornfield. Or, really, a field that had grown corn previously, but was now a stubbly wasteland, covered with drifts of snow. In the steely blue sky above them the sun shone brightly but without warmth. It was not terribly cold, if one dressed appropriately. Pete was not dressed appropriately. He was wearing, at the moment, a tie. And a pair of white boxer briefs. And that was all. He was cold, and now even his asking an innocent question had been summarily rebuked by that reptilian photographer. This was turning out to be less fun that he’d hoped.

“Nailed ya, did he?” asked his fellow model, who was similarly attired, but did not seem in the least bothered by his state of undress.

“Hell yeah he did,” Pete replied. “He called me a ‘fucking meat puppet.’ What does that even mean?”

“It means you don’t ask questions, ever. It sucks, but it’s the way these gigs go, so you just learn to shut up and pose.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Pete offered, by way of defense.

“No kidding,” came the chuckling reply. “What did you ask him, anyway?”

Pete wasn’t sure that he should answer this, because it might expose him to more abuse. But this guy looked sincere, and how much worse could his reaction be than the photographer’s?

“I asked what we were modeling.”

“Why?” He was laughing, but not cruelly, so Pete continued.

“Because I thought I could do a better job if I knew. You know, show the product off better. That kind of thing.”

“Look, we’re wearing exactly two items of clothing here: a tie, and underwear. That’s not a lot to work with in terms of creative expression. It may be the tie, it may be the underwear–ooh, here’s a thought–it may be both!” Here he bugged his eyes out and waved his hands in a faux panic. Then he dropped his hands to his sides and continued. “So what? It’s not going to change how you wear ’em, right?”

“But why have us just standing here in a barren field if they want people to buy their clothes? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Have you been to an X&Y?”

“No,” Pete admitted.

“Have to been to an Abercrombie and Fitch?”

“Well, yeah. So?”

“Xavier and Young is trying to be the new A&F. So they’re basically copying everything A&F does. A&F has a sexy catalog, so X&Y has a sexy catalog. A&F’s models are naked, so X&Y’s models are naked. Heh,” he chuckled, “A&F has a two-letter name, X&Y has a two-letter name. Not a lot of creativity there, huh?”

“So, that explains us standing in a field–how?” Pete asked.

“Duh. We’re mostly naked, and that creep over there is taking our picture. If he thinks we’re sexy enough, then we get to be in every X&Y store in the country. The clothes don’t matter. What they’re selling is us.”

Pete considered this.

“Doesn’t that sort of make us, well, prostitutes or something?”

“Kind of, yeah. Cool, right? You work out, you pose, you get the money. Is this a great country or what? I mean, look at those guys over at the catering table. See them? The ones in ties and aprons? Well, they haven’t taken their eyes off me since I came out of the tent wearing these tight boxers. Every time I flex or smile or whatever they perk up like they hope I’m about to strip off and start beatin’ it for them.”

Pete saw the hungry, rapt attention of the three cater waiters. He turned back, intending to ask why provoking waiters was a desirable pastime, when he was interrupted.

“Hey–watch this.”

As Pete stood bewildered, his companion pretended to notice something terribly interesting on the ground; he turned, facing away from the catering table, and bent over slowly to take a closer look. His arched back caused his his muscular buttocks to be thrust out, and he slowly shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“So, did they notice?” he asked in a stage whisper.

Pete turned to look at the catering table, and saw all three waiters staring slack-jawed at the white-cotton-covered cheeks. Pete wasn’t sure, but they didn’t seem to be blinking. Or breathing. One dropped a bottle of mineral water into a bowl of hummus. Clearly this display was having the desired effect.

“Uh, I think they noticed.” He turned back and saw that he was once again face to face with his fellow model, who was grinning widely.

“Awesome, right? I could do this all day.”

“Why? I mean, why does it matter to you that three waiters–” Here Pete lowered his voice to a whisper, “Who are probably gay–” He returned to normal volume and continued, “are looking at you? Isn’t that kind of creepy?”

“Hell no it ain’t creepy! Why have a body like this if no one’s going to look at it?” He breathed deeply and sighed. “This is the best job in the world, man!”

Pete was not sure he shared his new colleague’s enthusiasm. This modeling job had been his mom’s idea, to help him make some money for college in the fall; she had a friend who had some cousin who knew someone at the agency.

“You do this a lot?” Pete asked.

“As often as I can. But this is The Show, right here. The stuff I did before was all local–health clubs, sporting goods, that kind of thing. But this, this is the real deal. We get in the X&Y catalog, we’re set. If we can really sex it up, we might get put up in the stores. Sky’s the limit then.”

Pete was about to ask what it might mean to “sex it up,” but he was interrupted by the shrill rantings of the photographer.

“All right, bitches,” he shouted, meaning everyone of any gender in the range of his voice. “Let’s get this thing done. I want those assholes at Abercrombie and Fitch to fucking kill themselves when they see this.”

He approached the models, in a fog of cigarette smoke and obsequious assistants, and began to shout instructions.

“Okay, you, the blond one,” he gestured at the one who was not Pete, “Stand more to the left. No, you moron, my left! It’s always my left. Jesus fucking Christ where do we find this meat?” He paused to consider the shot. “Now, you, the dark one,” he pointed impatiently at Pete, who was momentarily caught off guard by being referred to by his hair color, “stand next to him. That’s it, facing him. Closer. Closer. Closer. Good. Closer. Closer!”

Pete and his fellow model had not been introduced, but they now stood together on the same square foot of cornfield, their bodies almost touching. Pete could feel warm breath on his face, could see goosebumps on the collarbone in front of him.

“CLOSER!”

There was really no way for them to get closer without wearing the same pair of underwear, but they tried. They were touching now, their nipples meeting, the fronts of their boxer briefs brushing against each other. Pete told himself it was the cold that made his nipples harden. He looked into the golden eyes of his counterpart, and knew he had to say something.

“I don’t think we can get any closer,” he whispered.

“Yeah, we can. Follow my lead.”

At this, the golden eyes slowly closed, as the face drew closer to Pete. Before he knew what was happening, he could feel lips a whisper away from his own. Not a kiss, not yet, but the hint of contact. A warmth spread through his mouth, his face, his body, and in the background, somewhere, he could hear the click-click-click of the shutter racing impossibly fast to capture this moment. Then, he suddenly realized, he was being kissed. His fear of the photographer’s anger kept him rooted in place as the kiss deepened and the shutter reached some sort of climax of clicking. Suddenly, the noise stopped.

“And that is how it’s done, bitches! Let’s get the fuck out of here,” shouted the photographer, who swept away with his attendants in tow.

It was only when the kiss ended that Pete realized he had closed his eyes as well. Suddenly, he didn’t feel well, and his knees gave way. He pitched forward helplessly, into the catching arms of “the blond one,” who kept him from crashing to the ground.

“Can we get some water over here?” shouted Pete’s rescuer. He was delighted to see that the three cater waiters fought over who should be the water bearer; in the end he had his choice of three water bottles handed to him by three waiters sporting three very visible hard-ons. Just another reason to love this job. He chose a water bottle at random, and brought it up to Pete’s mouth.

“Here,” he said to Pete, as he held the bottle of water to his lips. This act, of pouring water into Pete’s open and grateful mouth, caused the waiter whose bottle was being used to suddenly ejaculate in his pants. He turned and bolted for the catering van without looking back.

“Thanks,” murmured Pete, when he had swallowed several gulps of water. His strength was returning, and he stood upright once again.

“Looks like you’re feeling stronger.”

The smirk with which this remark was delivered worried Pete. He looked down to see, to his horror, that the head of his erect penis was now protruding from the waist of his X&Y winter-weight no-fly boxer briefs.

Oh, fuck.

“Oh, fuck,” Pete said, mortified. He tucked his stiff member back into the pouch as best he could, and blushed furiously.

“No worries, buddy. That kiss got me plumped up a bit too. My drawers are just too tight for the dragon to poke his head out.”

“But, but,” Pete stammered, “I don’t know how this happened. I’m not … I mean, I don’t …”

“Look, forget about it. The important thing is that Mr. Asshole Q. Photographer got the shot he wanted, which means that we have a shot at the big time. Thanks for playing along. Oh, and sorry about sticking my tongue in your mouth. I kind of got carried away.”

“Oh,” was all Pete could think of to say. He’d had another guy’s tongue in his mouth? What the fuck?

“I guess since we’re on such intimate terms, we should introduce ourselves. I’m Nick.”

Pete looked at the hand offered to him. He took it, haltingly.

“I’m Pete and I’m not gay.” Where this blurting introduction came from Pete was not sure. But he felt like it was something that he should say. Actually, he probably should have said it before Nick stuck his tongue in his mouth. His tongue! Pete’s head whirled a bit again.

“Well, okay then, I guess we’ll have to call you Straight Pete. Good to know you, Straight Pete.”

“Look, I just wanted you to know that I’m not … I mean, that kiss … your tongue … I …”

“Oh, that? Look, Pete, don’t get any romantic ideas. I’m a confirmed pussy hound from way back. That kiss was to get us in the book, pure and simple. It was a business decision, and I’m just glad you didn’t freak out. It’ll pay off, I promise.”

Pete did not look convinced.

“But damn your lips are soft. I’ve never kissed a guy with such soft lips. What do you use?”

Pete tried to parse out that statement, to make it make sense. Straight guy, notices my soft lips, compares them to guys he’s kissed before, wants to know what I use. There was no logic to it at all. At all.

“They put something on them in the trailer. I don’t know. It tasted like strawberry.”

“Strawberry! That was it. I couldn’t tell what the flavor was. Nice.”

Pete was completely overwhelmed, and just wanted to get away from this strange man, and these horny waiters (who are apparently flighty as well–weren’t there three of them before?), and this bizarre photography crew. Luckily, his reprieve came quickly.

“All right, we’re done here, people,” called the photographer’s assistant, whose voice was slightly less tobacco-tinged than her boss’s.

“Well, it’s been nice working with you,” beamed Nick, extending his hand again.

“Yeah, you too. And sorry about the, you know …” Pete gestured vaguely in the direction of his waistband. Nick laughed.

“Hey, I consider it a compliment. You have nothing to be ashamed of, my friend.” With that, Nick strolled off to the wardrobe tent to claim his clothes. Pete waited a few minutes before following, so as not to run into Nick as he was changing. Luckily, he didn’t feel cold anymore.

CHAPTER TWO

That night, as Pete lay in his bed, he tried to sort out just what had happened today. Specifically, he tried to figure out this Nick guy. He said he’s straight, but then there was the kiss. But that was just business, except that he compared it to other times he had kissed guys. And then there was the horrifying boner. Where had that come from? What did it mean?

He turned over in his bed, closed his eyes tight, and tried to sleep. He had school tomorrow, and needed to get some rest before gymnastics practice in the morning. But when he closed his eyes he suddenly saw himself back in that barren field–saw himself from outside his body, above, as Nick leaned in and kissed him.

“Oh, fuck!” he said, too loudly, and turned onto his other side. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to will himself to sleep. He was just starting to fade away when he smelled something odd–strawberries?

He sat up, looked around his dimly lit room, and realized he was imagining the sweet, pungent odor.

“I’m going insane,” he muttered to himself, as he flopped back on the bed. He resorted to counting the stars on his ceiling, even though he knew how many there were. He had put them up during a momentary flirtation with astronomy in fifth grade, and to this day 112 of them still glowed dimly in the 20 minutes or so after the lights were turned out. He counted them, twice, and then he was finally asleep.

He was back in the field, back standing toe-to-toe with Nick, back in the moment before Nick kissed him. This time he was not aware of trying to find a way out; this time he was fully aware of the constriction in his underwear. This time he reached up to Nick’s neck, and pulled him closer, closer, until their lips pressed hard and wet against each other, until the pressure in his crotch grew to an unbearable level, until he felt himself grinding his distended boxer briefs against Nick’s identical pair, feeling the heat and the firmness inside, until–

Pete awoke with a start. His sheets had been ripped off as he dreamed, and now he lay on the bed, his cock protruding from his boxers, rising from his body in the dark, straining. Before he was fully conscious, his prick began to pulse desperately, once, twice, and then the first huge glob of cum blasted from its head. Pete jolted, but was unable to stop the orgasm that was tearing through his body, through his psyche. He gripped the sheets on both sides of his seizing body, and thrashed with the force of it. His balls were drawn up tight, his every muscle tensed, and his cock shot out volley after volley of hot spunk.

Finally the spasms subsided, and Pete tried to catch his breath. Only then did he sense something on his lips, something wet. He darted his tongue out, and found his lips had been covered with his cum. Without thinking, he wiped his tongue across this lips, and then was horrified to realize that he now had a mouthful of his own ejaculate in his mouth. He bolted upright and sputtered, sending drops of semen all over his bed.

As he sat, in the dark, trying not to think, not to think at all about what had just happened, the semen on his chest began to flow down his body, leaving a cold trail behind as it went. Pete shivered in the dark, alone.

CHAPTER THREE

When the morning light flooded into Pete’s room, he awoke, peaceful in the quiet of the dawn; then he remembered what had happened the day before, and then what had happened later in bed, and the room spun a bit. Luckily, in the glare of daylight his powers of rational thought returned, and he found a way out.

“It’s been almost a week since I jacked off, so of course that would happen,” he rationalized. “It had nothing to do with that Nick guy. Just backed up plumbing, that’s all.” He ran his hand across his chest and felt the dried, crusted remains of his plumbing problem spread from neck to navel. He jumped out of bed and made his way quickly into the shower. As for Nick, he was washed out of Pete’s mind just as the spunk was washed from his body. It was an episode that he was determined to put behind him, and he did just that.

The school year was winding down, and Pete had ahead of him the usual cycle of senior-year events: trips, dances, exams, and finally graduation. He managed to maintain his grade point average through the end of the semester, which was critical to his securing the gymnastics scholarship that had been offered him. Several other modeling jobs were offered to him as spring gave way to summer, but he turned them all down–he was busy with other things, and he had plans for summer.

Pete had signed up to spend the summer in a student exchange program, in which students from the US were sent to countries in need of development. This is why Pete found himself at the airport one afternoon in June after graduation, waiting to board a plane to a country he’d not been able to locate on a map two weeks ago. It was in eastern Europe, he knew that much, but beyond that it was a complete mystery.

As he walked into the terminal, he spotted the group’s frenetic advisor, Mr. Patronus. He was currently pacing rapidly back and forth, waving his clipboard about and counting students over and over again. As Pete approached, the increasingly frantic advisor caught sight of him, and took great pleasure in ticking off his name.

“Oh, Pete, thank goodness! I was so worried!”

“Mr. Patronus, the plane doesn’t take off for three hours. We’re fine.”

“Oh, yes, yes, but you know how I worry! We’ve still got two of our people and three from the other high school to find, and then I can relax. Well, once we get through security I can relax. Okay, once we’re all on the plane, oh what a relief that will be!”

It was clear, Pete thought, that Mr. Patronus would never relax.

“Now, Pete, put on your t-shirt so that we can find you!” called out Mr. Patronus.

Pete had purposely not worn the shirt to the airport, as it was a color that does not occur in nature, and he did not want to look like a total tool when his parents dropped him off. Now he dug through his carry-on to find the shirt, and put it on over the white t-shirt he was already wearing. Planes can be cold, might as well layer.

“Hey, buddy, don’t you think you should find out the question before you answer?”

That voice was familiar, but Pete couldn’t place it right away. He swiveled around to see who had spoken.

It was Nick.

He stood there beaming, very pleased with himself for the joke he had made about Pete’s shirt. The group organizing the trip was called Youth Exchange for Service, or “YES!” and this was printed boldly across Pete’s startlingly bright yellow-green shirt.

“I mean, I might ask you something you don’t want to answer yes to,” Nick continued, as if his joke needed explaining.

Pete, for his part, was simply stunned into silence. He had no thought of ever seeing Nick again, and yet here he was. He was, obviously, part of the delegation from the high school in the next county that was participating in the trip. Pete’s conclusion was confirmed by the flustered arrival of Mr. Patronus, who made a beeline for Nick with his clipboard.

“Mr. Goodman! So glad you could join us today!” sang out Mr. Patronus, who ticked off Nick’s name with a flourish that seemed exaggerated, even for him. “Now, you need to put your shirt on like our Mr. Dorcey here. Quickly now!”

Nick grinned slyly at Pete, and grasped the bottom hem of his t-shirt with both hands. With a fluid motion, he whipped the shirt off over his head, and wadded it up. He stood, naked from the waist up, in a shaft of afternoon light that streamed in through the tall terminal windows.

Mr. Patronus’s sharp intake of breath surprised Pete, He turned to look at the trip advisor, who in turn only had eyes for Nick. More specifically, he only had eyes for Nick’s insanely developed chest and ab muscles, which were lightly furred and rippling with power. Nick caught Pete’s eye, and the sly half-grin widened. He searched for the shirt in his bag, taking his own sweet time, alert to every passing gaze that swept over his body, and there were many in addition to Mr. Patronus’s unblinking goggle. Finally he pulled on his own “YES!” shirt, which he had modified slightly by ripping out the neck, cutting off the sleeves, and slicing open the armholes almost to his waist. If Mr. Patronus thought his plane ride would be relaxing, he clearly hadn’t anticipated being able to see Nick’s powerful torso in profile throughout the flight.

“Err, thank you, Mr. Goodman,” Mr. Patronus struggled to say.

“Oh, Mr. Patronus, one thing. Could you make sure that Pete and I are rooming together? We’re old friends, and it would be fun to catch up.”

“Well, I don’t think I … it’s just that the lists were made up months ago and … I …”

Here Mr. Patronus trailed off, as he watched Nick rub his hand across his 6-pack abs. His fingers traced playful circles across his flat, strong belly, and in so doing lifted his shirt so that Mr. Patronus could see the rippled expanse of tan skin that lay underneath.

“Please, Mr. Patronus? I’d be grateful if you would consider it.”

Mr. Patronus looked unlikely to survive much more of Nick’s casual stroking. It was when his middle finger slid briefly under the waistband of his sweatpants that the trip advisor snapped.

“Oh, I see,” said Mr. Patronus. “Well, I guess we can make an exception, since it’s a special case.” He flipped the sheets on his clipboard, and with 10 seconds of scratching with a pen all was settled. The advisor then backed away, not wanting to lose sight of Nick but afraid to be caught looking at him. That he tripped over a carelessly placed carry-on was understandable.

“Why did you do that?” Pete demanded once Mr. Patronus had picked himself up and scurried off to greet two more latecomers.

“What, ask to room together?” Nick replied, innocently.

“Yes, that’s what. Why did you do it?”

“Because, Straight Pete, you’re the only person I know on this trip that my parents insisted I take.”

“But we don’t know each other,” Pete spat out angrily. Nick’s presence here had undone the tight knot of denial he had used to tie up and stow away the experience at the photo shoot, and he wanted to keep it out of his mind. That would be harder with Nick sleeping in the same room.

“What? We’ve been introduced, we’ve worked together, and, if I remember correctly, we kind of made out. That counts, in my book. What more would we have to do for it to count in yours?”

“Can you keep your voice down, please?” Pete hissed. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to hear Nick casually referring to the two of them making out, because, well, they hadn’t, had they? No, of course not.

“Sorry. I guess I’m just super stoked about jetting off to Whateverstan so that we can help them herd goats or something. ‘Cause that’s going to be awesome.”

“Look, I’m excited about this trip, and if you’re not then maybe you shouldn’t go,” Pete said, hopeful that Nick might actually take him up on it.

“I think you can put me down for ‘not excited.’ But I’ve turned down a couple of great gigs to take this stupid trip that my parents think will help me ‘grow,’ so there’s no sense staying and being bored and broke. I’m in for the duration.”

“Tickets! Tickets everyone!” sang out Mr. Patronus as he made his way down the line of YES! travelers passing out plane tickets. Because they were standing near each other, Pete and Nick would be sitting next to each other for the next 16 hours as they slowly made their way to the host country. Not surprisingly, when they boarded the plane they found Mr. Patronus sitting directly across the aisle from Nick. The better to keep an eye on the boy, of course.

They settled into their seats, and Pete busied himself adjusting his backpack under the seat, arranging his reading material, checking for the locations of the three closest exits, anything he could do to keep from having to have anything to do with Nick. Nick, meanwhile, sat back and watched this manic burst of activity with an amused grin. Finally, when Pete had exhausted every available distraction, he sat back in his seat with a sigh and looked out the window at the airport, where a gentle rain was starting to fall in the fading light.

“So, Straight Pete, how ya been?”

Pete closed his eyes, shook his head almost imperceptibly. This was going to be exactly as bad as he thought it would be. He turned to face Nick.

“Look, cut it out with that name, okay?” he said under his breath. Pete glanced around the cabin, trying to ascertain whether anyone had heard what Nick had called him.

“Why?” Nick asked brightly. This was fun. His face suddenly turned serious, a mask of concern. “Does Straight Pete have something to tell me?”

Pete felt an immediate heat in his cheeks. What the fuck? Suddenly he thought he could feel a wetness on his lips, and to his horror realized he was having a flashback–but was he remembering Nick or his own spunk on his mouth? Neither one was anything he wanted to think about. He felt sick to his stomach.

“Hey, lighten up, man, I’m just givin’ you shit,” laughed Nick. He was clearly having fun with this.

“Just don’t call me that, okay?”croaked Pete. If this was what the next three months were going to be like, he wasn’t sure he could take it.

“All right, all right–chill out, Petey,” came the smiling reply.

Pete made the most dismissive face he could muster and turned back to the window.

“So, what you been up to since the X&Y job? I haven’t seen you around, so I wasn’t sure if you were still working.”

Pete’s hopes of ignoring Nick into silence were dashed. It was clear he would have to go on the offensive.

“Look, I don’t get you,” he said to Nick, trying to keep his voice both low and laced with scorn. “Like what you did to Mr. Patronus back there. That poor guy just about expired while you did your stripper dance. What’s the point? Do you really want sweaty, closeted, middle-aged geography teachers drooling over you? Is that what gets you going? ‘Cause it sounds sick to me.”

“Dude! Why so pissed off? I was just having fun. You don’t think Mr. P was having fun? I guess you didn’t notice him limping off to the bathroom before we got on the plane. He came back five minutes later looking much more … comfortable. Wanna guess what he was doing in there?” Nick flashed his bright white, perfectly straight teeth in a smile of pure self-satisfaction. “I just like to help people. I think I helped an old guy out today.” He leaned back in his seat, with his hands behind his head.

Pete meant to fix his seatmate with an icy stare of judgment, but what he saw when Nick reclined was Mr. Patronus staring gape-mouthed at the broad expanse of tan, muscular flesh that was now exposed from Nick’s upstretched arms down to his narrow waist. The trip advisor would be joining the Mile-High Club, Solo Flight Division, as soon as the seat belt light went out.

Pete looked back at Nick, his icy stare of judgment tinged for only a split-second with wonder and perhaps even envy at what this guy could accomplish with the smallest gesture. It was only a momentary flash that Pete instantly buried, but Nick saw it. He saw it, and knew how the summer was going to go. He closed his eyes and settled in for the long flight.

They flew in silence and relative peace through the night. In the morning they landed, changed to a smaller plane for the flight further east, and then again about mid-day to an even smaller one, this one pulled reluctantly through the smoggy air by two asthmatic propellers. Flying had never been Pete’s favorite activity, and he was relieved when this last craft finally put down in the middle of a remote valley, at the edge of a small city far from the industrial urban center. This would be home for the next three months.

In the bustle of disembarking, Pete lost sight of Nick for a moment, and the hope rose inside him that he might escape his three-month prison sentence of rooming with that dolt. But Mr. Patronus, who had hardly gazed upon anyone or anything else for the last 16 hours, immediately located Nick making small talk with a ticket counter agent. Complete ignorance of her language didn’t hold him back, and the two looked ready to sneak off to a quiet broom closet for a personal study in foreign relations when Mr. Patronus descended upon them.

“Mr. Goodman! Please–the group is assembling over here. Thank you, uh–Svetlana, is it? Yes, thank you for your attention to Mr. Goodman, but I need him over here. I mean, our group is over here. Thank you!”

Mr. Patronus hustled Nick back to the group, and planted him directly next to Pete, who was less than thrilled to see the bane of his existence returned to him.

“Now, everyone, your hosts will be here shortly to take you to your accommodations. You have my phone number in your packet, so don’t hesitate to call me if you have any problems. I wish you the very best with your YES! experience, and I will see you in a month at our check-in meeting. Now go be good Americans, everyone!”

Nick turned to Pete. “Well, Petey, we’re here. Excited yet?”

“I’m tired, I’m hungry, and you smell,” cranked Pete. This was two-thirds true; Nick didn’t smell, and in fact had weathered the long journey suffering nothing worse than a becoming tousle.

“Now, you don’t sound like a good American, Petey. Don’t make me get Mr. Patronus on your ass.”

“I thought you were the one who wanted that troll on your ass,” Pete spat. “Or wasn’t that the point of making him drool over your stupid body?”

“Now, now, Petey. I was just having fun. I’ll try to behave appropriately from now on.” They both knew he didn’t mean it.

“Peter Dorcey? Nicholas Goodman?” The voice calling their names was accented, but still quite understandable. They turned to see two young men looking expectantly at them.

“Yes, here,” said Pete, advancing toward them. Nick followed.

“Pleased to meet you,” said the one of the pair who had called out their names. “I am Imre, and this is Karvaly. We will be your hosts this summer.” The two locals extended their hands, and Pete and Nick shook them in the firm manner that they hoped established them as Good Americans.

“Have you all of your baggage?” asked Imre, who spoke perfect, if somewhat BBC-inflected, English. Pete and Nick nodded. “Splendid. Shall we?” Imre gestured to the doors of the terminal.

“But, excuse me, Imre? Isn’t there supposed to be a, you know, um, adult person here?” Pete asked. “I mean, you seem very nice, but you’re our age.”

Imre smiled. “Yes, of course. My grandmother has hosted American students for years. But she had a fall last week, and cannot drive the car. So, Karvaly and I came.”

This seemed to put Pete’s mind at ease. He looked about for Mr. Patronus to catch his eye (this was easy because his eye was always on Nick) just to be sure that he saw them leave with Imre and Karvaly. Can’t be too careful in a foreign country. Mr. Patronus smiled and waved. Mostly, it seemed, at Nick’s departing ass.

CHAPTER FOUR

The guys piled into the Imre’s grandmother’s car, which was a tiny, vaguely Ford-ish sedan of Eastern European origin, built with all of the craftsmanship that forced labor can muster. Pete attempted to close the door behind him, but found that it wouldn’t latch. However, Imre immediately placed all his weight on the accelerator, and the car roared, coughed, and then roared again down the street away from the airport. Pete decided he would just have to hang on and hope the door didn’t swing open. With his other hand he groped around for the seat belt, but instead found Nick’s hand. He recoiled, but not before Nick placed grabbed hold of it, and then held it as if they were heading to the prom in the back seat of their chaperone’s car. He smiled sweetly at Pete, who yanked his hand back.

With a whoosh Pete suddenly found himself hanging out over the street as the door he was holding swung open. He saw cobblestones rushing by below him, and he did the only thing he could think of: he screamed. Screamed like a little girl. Quickly Nick grabbed him by the arm and reeled him back into the car. Terrified, Pete panted and shook while Nick held on with both arms wrapped tightly around him.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Nick said, with no trace of irony in his voice.

“Thanks, man. Holy shit that scared the fuck out of me.”

“Everyone all right back there?” Imre called brightly, as if people attempted to eject themselves from cars all the time around here.

Nick answered for them. “We’re fine. Beautiful city you’ve got here.”

“Thank you. With recent investments, primarily from the Belgians, it is less of a … of a … Karvaly, what was that word the last exchange students used?”

“Shit hole,” came Karvaly’s cheerful reply.

“Right. It is less of a shit hole now. I am glad you like it.”

Nick tried to suppress his laughter, with imperfect results.

“I’m okay now, you can let go,” whispered Pete.

Nick didn’t.

“Are you sure? Mr. Patronus would give anything to be in your place right now.”

“If Mr. Patronus had been in my place he’d be spread across the cobblestones in that square back there because there’s no way you could have lifted his fat ass back into the car. Plop, splat, no more fawning Mr. P. Now please let me go.”

Nick did, this time.

“Save someone’s life and that’s the thanks I get. Nice.” There was no bitterness in Nick’s voice–he was still just playing, and that infuriated Pete even more.

“Look, you got your wish and we’re going to be spending the summer in this shit hole, together. Fine. I don’t have to pretend to enjoy your company.”

Nick just stared, waiting for the next explosion from Pete.

“Stop looking at me that way. I could have gotten back in the car myself, and I wouldn’t have even needed to if you hadn’t been groping me in the first place. What was that all about, anyway?”

“You grabbed my hand, so I thought you wanted to get romantic. I was just trying to play along, Petey. No hard feelings.” Nick was enjoying this immensely.

Pete realized that he was being played, just as Nick had played with Mr. Patronus. But Mr. Patronus let himself in for it because Nick clearly gave him wood. So why was Nick doing this to him? Was it just to push his buttons?

“Whatever,” Pete spat conclusively, and turned to the view outside his window. They passed the rest of the drive in silence.

Imre’s grandmother lived in a small house clinging to the hillside above the town like a forgotten barnacle. As the car shuddered to a halt on the side of the road near the house, Pete could finally relax his grip on the door and step out.

It was late afternoon, exactly what time Pete had no idea as he had forgotten to adjust his watch for whatever time zone they now found themselves in. They were ushered into the house, which seemed to have been built around the time of the Vlad the Impaler. But it was clean and comfortably furnished, and Imre’s grandmother greeted them warmly and offered them food, as she would do twelve times daily for the next 3 months. They ate a light dinner, and then Imre stood.

“I am sure you would like to see your room, and get settled in after your long flight. Come with me, please.” He and Karvaly each hefted a suitcase, and led the guys up a dim, winding staircase. The top floor of the house was divided by a narrow hallway, with doors leading to a room on either side. At the end of the hallway a door opened onto a balcony that overlooked the city.

Imre opened the door on the right side of the hallway, revealing a room with a bed, a dresser, and a desk. Large windows opened onto the balcony and the sweeping view beyond. As twilight claimed the valley, the lights of the city were beginning to twinkle far below them. It was beautiful. Pete hoped this would be his room, and Nick would be on the other side of the hall. He also hoped the door locked.

“This is where you will stay, and Karvaly and I are in the room across the hall,” Imre said.

“We’re sharing this room?” asked Pete, not wanting to seem ungrateful, but clearly alarmed.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Well, there’s just the one bed,” began Pete.

“Which is just fine. It’s a great room, and million-dollar view. Thanks!” Nick spoke like a Good American.

“We will leave you to settle in. The bathroom is at the bottom of the stairs, to the left.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Pete managed to get out, his throat still clotted with the shock of this latest turn of events.

Imre and Karvaly left, closing the door behind them. Once their steps had died away down the stairs, Pete swiveled on Nick.

“Just fine? This is just fine? What the hell are you talking about this is just fine?” Pete’s voice rose steadily as he blustered at Nick, furious.

“Petey, buddy, chill. What are you going to do about it? It’s the room they have. Plus, I’m serious about the view–look at it!”

“But the bed! The bed! That thing is barely a double. We’re going to be sleeping on top of each other!”

“Heh, heh,” chuckled Nick, in his best lecherous growl.

“Oh fuck off!” Pete flung back at him.

“Look, Petey, you would be here no matter what. Are you pissed because it’s me you’re here with? If any of the other guys on the trip were here you’d still be sharing the bed, just with him instead of me. Does it really make all that much difference?”

“Nick, did you ever stop to think that maybe I was planning on rooming with a friend of mine, until you had Mr. Patronus cross off his name and write yours in instead? Did you even think of that before you did your cocktease shirtless bit and stuck me here with you? Did you?”

Nick, for the first time, looked contrite.

“Did you really have a friend lined up?”

Pete looked at Nick, angry but a put a little off balance by the genuine note of concern in Nick’s voice.

“Well, no, but I could have. You had no way of knowing.”

“I think you’ll find, Petey, that I have ways of knowing a lot of things.” Nick turned to unpack, leaving Pete to fume in silence.

About twenty minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

“It is Imre. May I enter?”

“Yes, of course, come on in, Imre,” called Pete, who was putting away the last of his things.

“As it is your first night here, Karvaly and I wondered whether you would like to go out with us to the city, or if you would like to rest.”

“Hell, yeah, let’s see the town!” came Nick’s immediate reply.

Imre and Nick turned to Pete, expectantly. He sighed.

“Well, I am kind of tired, but it would be nice to see some of the city. All right, let’s go.”

The four young men climbed back into the rattling car and started down the hill. This time, Pete made sure that Nick got the bum door. He slammed it shut, and it latched with a smart clicking noise. Bastard, thought Pete.

They entered the city just as the sky was darkening from the lapis blue they had seen from the balcony. The city was medieval in origin, and had been renovated, it seemed, at about the time that America was declaring its independence. There were columned buildings in stately disrepair on every block; it was a city of remembered grandeur. The car pulled up in front of one such pile, and Imre switched the engine off.

“On Friday nights Karvaly and I like to visit the baths,” Imre announced. “Come, join us.”

Pete and Nick climbed out of the car, and stood before the marble edifice that loomed above them.

“Baths?” asked Pete. “You mean, like swimming?”

“Yes, there is swimming. And baths for soaking in,” explained Karvaly. “We meet many friends here, and talk. Come.”

“But I don’t have a suit with me,” said Pete, rooted to his place by the car.

“A suit? You swim wearing a suit?” Imre replied in disbelief.

“Not a suit like a suit of clothes. Like trunks, you know, shorts for swimming in.”

“Ah! I see,” said Imre. “No worries, Pete. No one wears a suit in the baths. Come now.”

“But,” Pete answered, to the backs of the other three as they walked briskly up the steps to the front door. He really had no choice but to follow.

He reached the others just as they made their way through the huge arching doorway. Imre paid for the four of them to enter, and then guided them to the dressing room. In the distance they could here splashing and animated conversation in the strange, crackling tongue of the locals.

The dressing room was functionally designed, with cubbies along all four walls and benches in the middle. Imre and Karvaly immediately began undressing, placing their clothing in a single cubby. Nick joined in immediately, never one to let a chance to get naked slip through his grasp. The three of them were completely nude before Pete even had his shirt off.

Pete had never been all that comfortable being naked around others. He had competed in gymnastics since grade school, but in all those years he still felt some anxiety when changing in the presence of his teammates. And now he wasn’t just changing, but rather going completely naked. It’s not that he had anything to be ashamed of–he was in the best shape of his life–but nudity just made him anxious.

“Come on, Petey, let’s see that hot body of yours,” cat-called Nick, who was impatient to get to the water.

Pete had by this time figured that the best way to deal with Nick was simply to ignore him, and so he turned away and slipped off his last remaining item of clothing, his underwear. He placed them neatly in the cubby and then turned to follow the others out in to the main bathing area.

Here the architecture of the building opened up into a paradise of smooth marble, blue water, and bubbling fountains. It was looked less like a bath house than a set for an aquatic production number in a 30’s musical. And everywhere Pete looked there were naked men. Everywhere.

It suddenly occurred to Pete that the only thing that made him more anxious than being nude was seeing other people nude. But there was nowhere to look where he couldn’t see naked men. They lay on chaises talking, they jumped into the water, they paddled lazily in the pools. They were everywhere, and they were all about Pete’s own age. This struck him as a bit odd.

“Damn,” Nick breathed, as he took in the scene. As anxious as Pete was, Nick was elated to just the same degree. He loved being naked, and he loved being around naked people. “Look at these guys. I don’t see anyone here over, like, 21.”

“Friday nights are for the young men only,” explained Karvaly, helpfully. “It is when our friends are here.”

They made their way to the largest pool, and Imre, Karvaly, and Nick jumped in immediately, joyfully. Pete stepped in cautiously. He wouldn’t even attempt a naked cannonball like Nick had done. Who knew what that might do to one’s testicles? Pete shuddered. As he paddled about in the warm water, he realized what it was that struck him as so unusual–every single penis he saw, and he saw dozens, no matter where he looked, was uncircumcised. Pete rarely saw an uncut dick in his high school locker room, but here it was clearly the norm. There was something about penises in their natural state that made Pete even more anxious. He just wanted to get out of here.

Meanwhile, the other three guys were playing like kids, jumping in, dunking each other, splashing. They tried to engage Pete in their games, but he glided off into a calm corner of the pool to sit and soak and sulk in solitude. It was during one of their more boisterous games that Karvaly slipped on the marble pool deck and fell into the water, his head smashing against the edge as he went in. The noise was horrifying, and Imre immediately rushed to where Karvaly had slid under water. With Nick’s help he hauled him out of the pool and lay him down on the floor. Karvaly was not conscious, and Imre, clearly agitated, crouched over him, his hands on Karvaly’s cheeks. He slapped them gently, hoping to stir consciousness in his unresponsive friend. Finally, he leaned in close to listen for breathing; Karvaly suddenly grabbed Imre’s face and pulled him down to kiss him sloppily on the mouth. Clearly, Karvaly was going to be okay. The boys resumed their play, only slightly less recklessly than before.

After an hour or so of watery abandon, the foursome showered, dried, dressed, and headed out to the car.

“Would you wish to return home, or have a drink at our pub?” asks Imre, when they are all piled back into the sedan.

“Oh, hell, yeah, let’s get a drink,” Nick answered, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Nick,” whispered Pete. “We’re not supposed to drink while we’re here.”

“Come on, Petey, we’re legal here, remember? And who’s going to find out?”

“But we signed the contract that said we wouldn’t.”

“Pete, I swear. You need to live a little, bud. And I’m the guy who’s going to help you do it. Imre, my good man, drive on. To the pub!”

“To the pub!” shouted Imre and Karvaly in unison.

They were shortly parked in front of the bar, which was as shabby and dark as the bath house had been grand and airy. Inside, the Good Americans were treated to the local alcoholic speciality: the coarsest moonshine, perfumed with exotic herbs that grew high in the surrounding mountains. The effect was something like jasmine-scented gasoline. Pete and Nick were handed engraved shot glasses brimming with the thick, kelp-green liquid, and the four touched their glasses together before slamming the shots down in one burning gulp. Immediately another set of glasses appeared, and that’s about the last thing that Pete remembered about his evening on the town.

CHAPTER FIVE

Pete awoke with a start at the cawing of a breathtakingly ugly bird perched on the balcony. First light was just starting to break, and the room was filled with the pinks and oranges of the rising sun.

Pete blinked, and blinked again, wondering at what point in the evening his eyelids had been replaced with sandpaper. Then he looked around the room.

It was with some surprise that he noted that he was in bed. It was with some alarm that he noted he was naked in bed. It was with a rising sense of panic that he noted that he was not alone in bed. What the hell happened last night? The bulk next to him shifted, and he saw Nick’s face looking up from the pillow.

“Morning, sunshine,” Nick sang out, smiling, as he rubbed his eyes. “How’s Petey this fine morning?”

“Nick, I’m naked.”

“So?”

“I don’t sleep naked,” Pete explained.

“I do,” replied Nick. “I would have asked you your nighttime apparel preferences last night, but you were a little out of it. Actually, since you hurled all over the inside of Imre’s grandma’s car on the way home, I had to get you out of those clothes.”

The enormity of what happened dropped on Pete like a safe in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

“You got me out of my clothes?”

“You’re welcome. Like I said, I would have asked you what you wanted to wear to bed, but I was afraid if you tried to talk you would puke again. So I just stripped you down and carried to you to bed.”

“Carried me?”

“Well, I had to get you up here from the bathroom somehow, right?”

“Why was I in the bathroom?”

“Pete, I just told you that you horked all over yourself in the car. I had to clean you up.”

Pete’s mind was racing. In the two minutes he’d been awake, here’s what he had learned: that Nick had stripped the clothes off his unconscious body, washed him, then carried him naked up the stairs and into bed, and then climbed in next to him, naked, where they then slept all night together, naked. Oh my god.

“Nick, I don’t know what to say. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Ah, man, don’t be. See, I’m naked too,” and with this, Nick threw the covers off his side of the bed and confirmed that he was, indeed, naked–and that his morning erection had yet to subside. It throbbed angrily on his abdomen, reaching nearly to his navel. “Heh. I get kinda boned up in the morning.”

Pete ignored Nick’s rude tumescence. “I didn’t mean I was embarrassed about being naked. I meant I was embarrassed about how I acted last night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It probably wouldn’t have happened if we had given you a little more time to sober up before we left the pub. But once Mr. Patronus showed up we kind of had to run.”

“Mr. Patronus was there last night?”

“Yeah, funny coincidence, huh? Out of all the bars in the city, he goes to that one. But don’t worry, we slipped out the back before he saw us.”

Pete hung his head and wondered how he had managed to fall so far so fast. He was always the good kid, the solid one. Now he was being spirited out of bars, throwing up in cars, and sleeping naked next to this amoral thing with the huge morning wood. Fuck.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet, stumbling a bit as his sense of balance returned from taking the night off. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do; it was clearly too early to go downstairs for breakfast, but he couldn’t stay here with naked Nick, who had drifted back into dreamland with the covers wrapped around his knees. His cock still stabbed the air as he dozed. Pete had to get out of this room.

He pulled on a pair of shorts, afraid that rifling through the dresser for a clean pair of underwear would awaken his bedmate, and a conscious Nick was the last thing he wanted. He pulled the door open silently, and walked into the hallway and out the door to the balcony. The morning view was breathtaking, the air a bit chilly. The freshness of the breeze brought Pete back to himself, and he started to reflect on what had happened to him in the last several days. One thing he knew for sure: wherever Nick went, trouble followed. How was he going to make it through the coming three months?

Pete was startled by a creak of furniture and a voice talking, somewhere, quietly. Someone else was awake at this ungodly hour. Pete wasn’t really up for company, as he was just starting to calm his jangled nerves in the solitude of the placid morning. He stood a statue, listening.

The sounds were coming from the room opposite his and Nick’s. He looked in that direction, and saw that the window of their room was separated from the balcony by a trellis with a flowering vine growing up its side. Pete approached the trellis, intending to take a closer look at the intricate flowers that pinkly dotted the vine; when he reached it he realized, to his horror, that he could see through the trellis directly into Imre and Karvaly’s room. His first instinct was to dodge back onto the other side of the balcony and pretend he had seen nothing, but it was what he saw next that froze him in place.

Karvaly was lying on the bed, in a recumbent pose much like the one Pete had left Nick in: lying on his back, the covers pulled off, and, yes, fully erect. Imre was walking back toward the bed, having just pulled the curtains open–that must have been the noise Pete had heard. Imre was, of course, naked. My god, Pete thought, does no one in this country wear clothes?

Imre reached the bed, and stood for a moment looking out the window. Pete panicked as Imre looked right at him, but he seemed not to notice that he was there. Perhaps the trellis hid him, Pete thought, relieved. It would be difficult to explain why he was looking through his hosts’ window while they got dressed in the morning.

Except that they weren’t getting dressed. In fact, Imre seemed to be getting back into bed. He put one knee on the bed, and craned over to where Karvaly lay. He lowered his had down to Karvaly’s and then … and then.

“Oh, fuck,” Pete tried not to say, but it slipped out in a whisper anyway.

Imre leaned down to Karvaly, and he kissed him. Not a “good morning we’re European so we kiss even though we’re both straight men” kind of kiss. This was an open mouth, full tongue action, mature-audiences-only kind of kiss. Pete, who had stopped breathing when the kiss began, was about to pass out from lack of oxygen to his brain when something happened that made him suck in a lungful, all at once. Imre reached down and wrapped his hand around Karvaly’s cock.

Pete desperately rationalized that perhaps Imre had lost his balance and had grabbed Karvaly’s erection to keep himself from falling off the bed, much as he had grabbed Nick’s hand by accident in the car yesterday. Except that Imre’s hand was stroking up and down Karvaly’s shaft, rising and falling slowly, making the already sizable appendage grow even more.

Pete wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. He would tell himself later that it was because he didn’t want to make noise and give himself away as some kind of pervert voyeur, but he knew that the guys on the bed wouldn’t have noticed him even if he had started playing the trumpet. They were simply in their own world.

As Pete watched, Karvaly wrapped his arms around Imre and pulled him close. The two embraced, their entire bodies coming into contact, and they rolled around as if contesting good-naturedly for the upper hand, coming to rest sideways across the bed. It was Karvaly who ended up on top, and he neatly swiveled around, which brought him face-to-prick with Imre. He leaned forward, mouth open, and captured the head of Imre’s now-erect penis. His tongue danced around the tip, and he kissed up and down the length of it. He wrapped his hand around the base of Imre’s cock, and then stroked up, making the foreskin gather over the tip. That extra skin, which Pete was so conscious of lacking last night, disappeared into Karvaly’s mouth. He pursed his lips around it, and pulled back, stretching the foreskin until it thinned, veiny in the morning light. He then lunged forward and stuffed an impossible amount of Imre’s long, gracefully arching cock into his mouth. Pete could hear Imre moan and babble with pleasure.

Not to be outdone, Imre took advantage of his position between Karvaly’s powerful legs. The rather massive cock and balls of his friend dangled above his face, but that was not, apparently, what he wanted. He reached up, joined his hands around the small of Karvaly’s back, and pushed him forward so that his groin pressed down against Imre’s throat. That left his buttocks spread open wide, directly in front of Imre’s face.

Who’d want a view like that, Pete thought. He’s looking right at the guy’s asshole.

And then it became clear why Imre wanted that view. He lifted his head and jammed his tongue directly into Karvaly’s anus. Pete retched involuntarily, but luckily his gasping was completely obscured by Karvaly’s own as Imre attacked his ass. Pete watched helplessly as Imre pressed his mouth again and again into the cleft between Karvaly’s smooth, round cheeks. Until now, kissing someone’s ass had been a figure of speech. Now Pete had seen someone do it. And apparently enjoy it. This was fucked up.

Karvaly now pulled Imre’s legs up into the air, and he dove down between them to root out Imre’s own asshole. The two of them writhed on the bed, each attached by the lips to the anus of the other, clearly in a transport of delight. Suddenly, Karvaly released his lips from Imre’s ass and swiveled around again. Pete was astounded to see them kissing again. Didn’t they know where those mouths had been?

The two ground against each other on the bed, their cocks rubbing wildly together. Each time Karvaly slid his cock up Imre’s hard stomach, his foreskin would roll back, exposing the glistening head of his prick. Then as he slid down, the skin would slide up to cover the tip, bunching up, while Imre’s longer, thinner tool did the opposite. The continued this for several minutes, and then Pete noticed both men stiffening. Their muscles stood out in stark relief as they gripped each other even more urgently, and then it happened. From both cocks at once jets of semen spurted out, as they continued to rub up and down each other. Soon their torsos were coated with their mingled seed, and still they kissed, and slid up and down, until the cum was rubbed into their bodies. Only then did they roll onto their sides, still kissing passionately.

Pete stepped back from the trellis, panting. What the hell was going on here? Had the world gone completely fucking mad? Did people really do that to each other? And what was that dripping on his foot?

He looked down and saw, to his horror, that the front of his shorts was darkening; a growing wet spot radiated from his crotch while drops of white landed on his bare feet. Pete staggered, loosing more of his own semen from inside his shorts, which rained down onto his feet. Holy fucking shit, what had just happened?

Pete numbly made his way back into the hallway, and opened the door as quietly as he could. Nick snored softly, still naked, sprawled across the entire bed. Pete took off his shorts and wadded them up tightly. He would have to find a way to discreetly wash the sperm out of those later. He mopped up his legs and feet, removing the drops and tracks left by the hot fluid as it ran down his body.

It was with relief that he was finally clean, though he wasn’t sure he would ever feel truly clean again.

Nick rolled over, and sniffed the air. “Nasty, dude,” he mumbled in a sleepy voice. “Good for you, rubbing one out. You’ll feel better.” And he promptly resumed breathing the deep breaths of sleep.

Pete sat on the edge of the bed, devastated. He had no idea what to think, no way to process what had happened this morning.

Across the hall, Karvaly stopped kissing Imre for a moment to ask, “Was that Peter on the balcony?”

“Yes, I think it was,” replied Imre.

“I would have expected that from Nicholas, but Peter surprises me.”

“Well, you know these Americans,” murmured Imre, drowsily. “Oversexed and repressed at the same time. I do not pretend to understand them.”

“Mmm,” grunted Karvaly, as the two boys drifted back to sleep.

CHAPTER SIX

At breakfast a couple of hours later, Pete searched Imre and Karvaly for any sign of the intimacy he had seen so exuberantly demonstrated in their dawn romp. He saw nothing unusual, which, as usual, made him start to doubt that he’d seen anything at all. He couldn’t trust his senses anymore, it seemed, nor could he trust his own penis, which seemed to have developed a mind of its own lately. He had never, ever, had so much as a wet dream–at least before the one involving Nick, who was at the moment wolfing down another of Grandma’s stony pancakes–and now his prick was burping up semen at the slightest provocation. Upon reflection, we was forced to admit that what Imre and Karvaly had done was hardly slight provocation, but still.

“You okay, Petey?” Nick asked, full of cheer.

“Yeah, fine.” Pete was sticking with his resolution to provide as little as possible in the way of raw material for Nick to work with, and to this end he accented his assurance with a chipper grin. Three more months of this, he thought through gritted teeth.

The weekend lay before them, and with Monday being the official start of their YES! work assignments, all four boys set out to see the sights of the city over the next two days. Everyone stayed clothed, no one got drunk, and they learned a bit of history along the way. Entirely satisfactory, to Pete’s mind; a horror show of boredom to Nick’s.

Their work began in earnest on Monday, and they quickly settled into the routine of it. Every morning Imre or Karvaly would drive them down the hill to the central market, where the YES! team would assign them to a work detail of some kind. One day they shelved ancient books in the sepulchral old library, another they fed lambs from bottles at a farm high in the mountains, and one day found them in the pouring rain, trying to free a milk truck of WWII vintage from a deep rut on the way to the orphanage. It was hard but satisfying work, and by mid-summer Pete and Nick were enjoying themselves. Nick had finally decided to ease up on Pete, and Pete had carefully built a wall in his mind around Imre and Karvaly and their ass-licking tendencies.

One late July morning found the two of them, alone, working to rebuild a goat bridge over a small creek. It was cool enough that the work was pleasant, but warm enough that Nick could strip to the waist. Of course, he would strip to the waist in a blizzard, gladly. He and Pete stacked stones in silence, as they did most things these days.

“Hey, Pete,” Nick said, finally breaking the silence.

This was the first time he had called Pete by his actual name in several weeks, and it took him a bit by surprise.

“Yeah, Nick?”

“You know, this isn’t bad.”

“What isn’t bad?”

“This whole service thing. I mean, I thought it would be a nightmare, but I actually kind of like it now.”

Pete stopped and studied Nick for a moment.

“What changed it for you?”

Nick paused, a 100 pound stone cradled in his arms, the muscles across his entire torso taut.

“I think it was that orphan milk truck couple of weeks ago. We were in the ditch, pushing and yanking on that thing, and all I could think about was how I was getting a great workout. I mean, look at these,” and here he flexed a series of muscles that would have blown the top of Mr. Patronus’s head off. “But then when we got the truck free, and we rode it to the orphanage, and those kids came up to us to thank us, I mean–shit, that was amazing. I just kind of felt a change in my attitude about this place, and it’s kind of been that way since.”

Pete was astounded by Nick’s thoughtful recounting of the experience. He had no idea that his muscle-headed roommate thought such things.

“Nick, I’m impressed. In spite of your best efforts, your parents may have been right to send you here. You may have grown.”

“Well, my lats have grown, and my delts and …” Nick grinned, flexing his pectorals on alternate sides, making his nipples jump up in turn.

Same old Nick after all.

“Bastard,” muttered Pete, and he went back to his stone pile.

Things continued pacifically for the remaining weeks of Pete and Nick’s service. By day they worked, and in the evenings there was often a cultural event, usually involving complicated dances to accordion music. Pete found an excuse every Friday evening not to accompany the others to the baths, and so avoided the most fraught part of the experience.

As they completed their final week of service, they had a week of free time ahead of them before they were due to return home. The four guys talked over some ideas for how to spend the week, and they decided on a backpacking trip into the mountains above the city. Imre had described a place where he and Karvaly often spent time late in the summer; they usually were the only ones there, because the weather in the mountains was notoriously unpredictable in August. That sounded ideal to Pete, who was looking forward to some peace and quiet in the wilderness.

There was, however, one thing he was not looking forward to, and on their last Sunday night in the country, as they organized their packs for the hike into the mountains early the next morning, Pete couldn’t hold his silence about it any longer.

“Nick?”

“Yeah, Petey?”

“Have you noticed anything … unusual … about Imre and Karvaly?”

“Like have they changed their hair or something?”

“No, I mean about the two of them together.”

Nick stopped cramming things into his pack for a moment, and looked thoughtful. “What do you mean, together?”

“Well, I’ve been watching them, and I think they might be together. You know, like a couple. Like gay.”

Nick considered this, then nodded as if something had been settled inside him.

“Good for them. Have you seen my socks–the gray ones?”

“Nick, did you hear what I said? I think they’re gay, and they’re lovers.”

“Yeah, I heard you. I know what the word means. And I say good for them.”

Pete was dumbfounded.

“But, Nick, they could be on the other side of the hall–right now–doing it.”

“Oh god, Pete, will you get a grip? I cannot believe that you are wound up so tight that the very idea that two people might be having sex somewhere in the same time zone as you makes you crazy. Get over yourself.”

Pete couldn’t think of how to respond to his outburst. He just sank to the bed and sat, looking at Nick.

“I just don’t get you,” Nick continued. “What is it about sex that freaks you out so much?”

“It doesn’t freak me out,” replied Pete, defensively.

“Oh the hell it doesn’t. You can’t stand the idea of those two guys having a little fun together, or anyone else for that matter. Good god, Pete, can’t you just have a wank and chill out?”

“I don’t do that.”

Nick burst out laughing. “Good one. You do it every Tuesday night, when you think I’ve gone to sleep. You get up out of bed, tiptoe to the corner over there, and then you take it out and beat it for 5 minutes, tops. Then you make this kind of ‘Unh! Unh! Unh!’ noise–three grunts, never two, never four–and then you mop up your load in a tissue and throw it away somewhere.”

Pete was horrified, but Nick continued, warming to his subject now.

“What I don’t get is that it never seems to help. You blow a load out of that, I’ll admit, impressive piece of meat you got there, but it doesn’t help you relax at all. Next morning, you’re right back to being the little Puritan.”

Pete’s face was on fire. He had no idea that Nick knew about his Tuesday night routine. He felt violated. He felt angry.

“Oh, and you’re the perfectly adjusted one. Tell me, have you had anything even remotely like normal sex this entire trip, or has it all been flashing your slutty body at dirty old men? Perhaps you should call Mr. Patronus so you can give him a lap dance.”

“Fuck you, Petey. I’ve had more sex since we’ve been here than you’ve had in your entire life.”

“Oh yeah? How do you manage that?”

“Well you know that pretty girl in the market who sells us those gravel biscuits in the morning? Well, she’s been riding the Nick train three days a week–we do it in the back of her market stall while you wait for the bus to take us to work. And that convent on the east end of town? A gold mine. Every week a group of them ships out for a lifetime in a remote village way back in the mountains somewhere, and I’ve gotten my knob polished by just about every fucking one of them before they get on that bus. They’re animals, man–it’s like it’s the last sex they’re ever going to have. Heh, I guess it is.”

He paused, smiling at the memory.

“So don’t tell me I’m repressed because I haven’t jacked off with you watching. I’ve been plenty busy.”

“Ugh. Whatever. I don’t need to know. Look, I just don’t think I could be in the next tent over as those two churn each other’s ass to butter. So, could we please arrange it so that we split them up, and each of us share a tent with one of them?”

“I cannot believe you, Petey. Life offers those two some happiness in this shit hole of a country, and you just want to be sure that you don’t have to hear it. Whatever. I wouldn’t want you to be offended, so I’ll play along. But I get Imre, because if he loses control and tries to cornhole me in the tent he’s got the thinner dick. I think Karvaly would tear me a new one.”

Nick laughed, reveling in his ability to completely freak Pete out with his casual mention of anatomy.

“Yeah, thanks a lot. I appreciate the support,” Pete hissed as he stomped out of the room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning the group of four headed on foot up the road from Imre’s grandmother’s house toward the trail head about a mile away. It was a beautiful morning, and some of the bitterness of last night’s conversation had faded between Nick and Pete. Once on the trail, they walked in single file for several hours in silence. They had lunch, and kept walking. Imre and Karvaly’s secret camping site was certainly remote.

It was nearing evening when they finally rounded a bend in the trail and saw the lake. The waning light reflected off the still water, and it was clear they had the entire place to themselves. Tired and sweating, Imre and Karvaly stripped off their clothes and jumped into the lake.

“I do love these guys. Any chance to get naked, they’ll take it!” he hooted as he threw his clothes off. He leapt naked into the lake as well.

Pete turned to setting up the camp, hearing the joyful splashing of the other three as they cavorted, nude, in the clear water now ablaze with the colors of sunset.

During dinner Nick dutifully brought up the sleeping arrangements, and everyone agreed to Pete’s plan. Moments like this nudged Pete to reconsider his view of Nick, but then he would do something typically arrogant or narcissistic, and Pete would give it up.

Finally, long after darkness had fallen and the fire was dying away, the boys settled into their respective tents. By dim lantern light, Pete observed Karvaly going through his preparations for bed. These seemed to consist of shucking off all of his clothes and sliding, naked, into his sleeping bag. Pete kept his t-shirt and hiking shorts on.

“Good night, Peter,” Karvaly said, somewhat drowsily.

“Good night, Karvaly,” returned Pete.

But Pete couldn’t sleep, and tried for only a few minutes.

“Karvaly?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Can I ask you something?

“Of course.”

Pete swallowed. This was not an easy topic to start.

“Karvaly, are you and Imre … um .. you know … errr–a couple?

“There are two of us, so we are a couple, yes.”

“No, I mean couple, as in the sense of two people who love each other.”

“We love each other, yes. Imre and I have been best friends for years.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, are you and Imre ‘in love’ with each other?”

Karvaly was silent for a moment.

“Peter, I am sorry that my English is not as strong as Imre’s. Perhaps I do not understand the question you ask me.”

“What I’m trying to ask is, are you and Imre … well … lovers?”

Karvaly considered this for a moment.

“I love Imre, more than I love anyone else in the world. I have no family, and Imre and his grandmother have given me a home. We are different in many ways, Imre and myself, but that is what makes us friends.”

“Different in what ways?”

“Imre is more outgoing than I am, and his sense of humor can often be coarse. I sometimes must remind him to behave himself in public. But those qualities are things I lack, and so we balance each other. That is why I love him.”

There was silence in the tent. Then Karvaly spoke again.

“Do you not love Nicholas?”

“What? No! No, I don’t love Nick. He only loves himself.”

“But when you were sick, on your first night here, he took care of you. Imre and I tried to help him clean you and carry you upstairs, but he refused. He carried you in his arms, Peter, and he laid you on the bed as gently as one would place a baby in its crib. And then he sat on the bed with you and kept a damp cloth on your forehead and held you until you fell asleep.”

Pete was stunned. The idea of Nick caring for him that way made his stomach twist.

“Is that not love, Peter?”

“Look, Karvaly, all I was asking about you and Imre is whether you are gay.”

“We may not be happy all of the time, as life is sometimes hard in our country. But, yes, we are gay more often than we are unhappy.”

This was driving Pete insane.

“No, Karvaly, look. You and Imre, you are more than best friends, right? You have sex, right? That’s what I mean by gay.”

“Oh! I see!” said Karvaly. “You mean ‘gay’ as they do on television. No, Imre and I are not gay.”

“But you two … I mean I saw you …” sputtered Pete in return.

“Imre and I have–what is the word … fucking? Yes! We make fucking. But we are not gay homosexuals.”

“But, if the two of you have sex, then you are gay.”

Karvaly sighed in confusion.

“I do not understand what you mean by gay, I think, Peter.”

Pete was at the end of his rope.

“What I mean is that if the two of you kiss, and you suck each other’s dicks, and you fuck each other in the ass, that means you’re gay. Gay means that you do with Imre what normal men do with women.”

Karvaly stiffened in his sleeping bag, offended.

“Peter, Imre and I are normal men. We want to marry one day.”

“See, that’s what we call ‘gay marriage,’ and it means that you keep fucking Imre into old age.” Pete thought for a moment. “Do they allow that here?”

Karvaly laughed. “Men marrying each other? I have heard of such things in other countries, but that is not what we want. No, we will marry women, when we are older.”

“Why?”

“Because we love women. We want families. I want my children to grow up with Imre’s children.”

“But if you love Imre, and you have sex with him, why are you going to marry a woman?”

“Because that is what people do.”

“Not gay people.”

Karvaly sighed. He was beginning to think that the American school system had failed its charges in more than just mathematics.

“Peter, do you love women?”

“Yes,” came the reply, before Karvaly had even finished the question.

“Yes,” repeated Karvaly. “And have you had sex with women?”

“Yes,” answered Pete, “a couple, anyway.”

“And Nicholas, has he had sex with women?”

“A lot, to hear him tell it.”

“These women that you have had sex with–did you love them?”

Pete considered this for a moment.

“Well, one of them, I guess. I thought so at the time, anyway.”

“And Nicholas, do you think he loved every women he has had sex with?”

“I’m not sure Nick loves anyone who isn’t him.”

“This is what I do not understand. You and Nicholas have had sex with many women, with no love. And yet you will someday marry a woman, whom you love. Imre and I, we have sex, and we love each other. One day we will each find a woman to love, and have sex with her. For us sex and love go together. For you, they do not, but someday they will, of a sudden? This I do not understand.”

“But sex with women is different.”

“Yes, I imagine it is. I have never had sex with a woman. Tell me, what happens to all of those women who have sex with you and Nicholas? Will they find someone to marry, once they have lost their … their … what is the word?”

“Virginity?”

“Yes, virginity. Once they have lost that, can they ever be married?”

“Of course.”

“Ah. In our country, women who have sex without being married are sent to the convent. No one will marry them.”

So that explains Nick’s success with the Sisters of Valedictory Fellatio, thought Pete.

“But, Karvaly, in the US we don’t require women to be virgins in order to get married. That would be medieval.”

“Peter, we do not expect it just of women. Imre and I have never had sex with a woman. We have only each other. I will be a virgin on my wedding day, and so will my wife.”

“But you’ll have had sex with Imre. Doesn’t that count?”

“I do not know what you mean. I have sex with Imre because it keeps me from threatening the virtue of the women I know, and my own. I will love two people in my life, Imre and my wife.”

This was all too much for Pete.

“I need to get some air,” he mumbled, and he slipped out of his bag and through the flap of the tent.

There was an unexpected chill in the air as Pete stepped out of the tent; the moon that had lit their campsite an hour ago was obscured now and then by heavy clouds, and the wind was whistling in the trees. This, Pete remembered, was why no one camped this high in the mountains in August: sudden storms could sweep through without warning, dropping short-lived but still shocking drifts of snow.

But his need to get away from the tent, from this strange man and his mixed-up ideas about sex and love and marriage, overwhelmed his hesitation about the weather. As he walked past the cold fire pit, he could hear giggling and the rustling of sleeping bags coming from the other tent, where Nick and Imre were supposed to be sleeping but clearly weren’t. What were they doing? Pete didn’t want to know, didn’t want to think about it, and so he stomped away toward the lake.

The wind was definitely up now, and Pete was dressed only in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot. He shivered slightly as he stood watching the wind make patterns on the surface of the water in the broken moonlight. He tried to think.

What the hell was wrong with everyone? What was wrong with him? Why did everyone have some bizarre relationship with sex that he couldn’t even imagine? Nick wielding his body like a weapon to make money or to turn Mr. Patronus into a drooling idiot, Imre and Karvaly having wild sex with each other in the interest of sexual purity, all of those uncut cocks bobbing in the pool at the baths. How did all of these people figure out what they wanted? When would Pete figure out what he wanted? Why did this all have to be so complicated?

He stewed on this for a while, then realized that what he had thought were insects bumping against him was actually something falling from the sky–sleet? rain? snow? Whatever it was it was cold, and he shivered over this entire body. Suddenly the wind roared and he was wet through with icy water, his hair plastered to his head. He turned and ran back to the tent as quickly as he could in the stormy darkness, guided by the lantern that Karvaly had placed outside the flap.

He threw himself into the tent, seizing with the cold. Karvaly sat up in his sleeping bag and began drying him roughly with a towel, but the shivering simply wouldn’t stop.

“Come,” said Karvaly, “Take off these clothes. They are soaked and you cannot warm yourself wearing them.”

Pete was too cold, inside and out, to argue, and he pulled his shirt off over his head. With shaking hands he tried to unbutton his shorts, but could not get his fingers to work properly. Karvaly pushed his hands away and worked the fly open himself, and with one strong yank he pulled Pete’s shorts and underwear down and off. Then he unzipped his sleeping bag, sliding the zipper down the length of his legs to his feet, and held it open.

“Come, Peter, this is the only way to get warm again.”

Pete stopped shivering for just a second to see Karvaly clearly in the dim lantern light. He was naked, of course, and so warm, and his arms were open wide, and without thinking any more about it he rolled over into the bag, his back against Karvaly’s chest, their feet tangled together.

Karvaly closed the bag over them, and then reached down and zipped it up. Having done so, he left his arm draped over Pete, who shivered less and less as Karvaly’s warmth swaddled him from head to toe. Exhausted, he drifted toward sleep.

“Thank you, Karvaly,” he murmured, then began breathing the deep breaths of sleep.

“You are welcome, my friend,” murmured Karvaly, just as softly, and then he kissed Pete on the head. “Sleep well.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The morning brought the crackling of a campfire, the hushed but happy voices of Imre and Nick warming themselves. The sun shone through the fabric of the tent over Pete’s head, and as he adjusted to the light he reveled in the warmth of his sleeping bag wrapped tightly around him. It wasn’t, of course, his sleeping bag. It wasn’t even Karvaly’s sleeping bag that was so warm. It was Karvaly himself, whose arms were still around Pete, whose chest pressed and relaxed in slow cadence against his back, whose legs were entwined with his. And what, Pete wondered, was that knot of heat pressed against the small of his back? Oh. My. God.

Pete stopped breathing for a moment, panic pressing on his chest. But in a lightning moment of perception, he imagined himself telling Nick about how he woke up this morning, and how he had freaked out and pushed Karvaly off of him and called him a pervert and ran out of the tent with his virtue barely intact. He knew how the conversation would go.

“Wait, so this guy basically gives you the very heat of his body to save you from your stupidity-induced hypothermia, and you blow the rape whistle in his face?” Nick would ask. “Your sexual repression has finally made you insane–you’re aware of that, right?”

Pete knew how foolish he would feel as Nick wound up his mocking monologue, and he made a conscious decision to not give him the chance. He would stay right here, and he would be better for it.

Karvaly shifted behind him, a little stretching twist accompanied by a tighter hug around Pete. Pete, for his part, tried to focus on taking deep, calm breaths, and he was doing well at it until he felt it. Down in the small of his back he felt the pressure. Karvaly’s penis was waking up, and it too was stretching. It throbbed and grew impossibly hot as it grew improbably large. Pete pressed his eyes closed and imagined himself already out by the fire, where he would make small talk with Nick and Imre while the coffee brewed. Karvaly’s penis was now crawling up Pete’s back–it felt a foot long by this point. Focus. What would they talk about by the fire? Yes, it’s a fine morning–to think there had been snow on the ground at dawn! Pete could now feel the foreskin of Karvaly’s cock peeling back down the length of his shaft as it dragged on his warm skin. What would be for breakfast? Probably sodomy and eggs. What? Was Karvaly’s cock wet at the tip?

Pete jolted, unable to control himself any longer. Karvaly stirred, and turned a bit, which relieved the pressure that Pete felt on his back.

“Good morning, Peter,” rumbled Karvaly’s voice, thick with sleep. “You are better this morning?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Pete replied, doing his best to turn away from Karvaly’s member, which was still pressing against him. At least it was now throbbing against his hip rather than his ass. He felt a momentary pang on behalf of Karvaly’s future wife who, in addition to having to share him with Imre, would have to find some way to accommodate that slab. Wait, was Pete really imagining people having sex? He shook his head, took a breath.

“Karvaly?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Thank you.”

Karvaly smiled broadly. “You are welcome, my friend.” Then he embraced Pete, an intimacy Pete was by now used to in normal, clothed circumstances, but which was complicated by the presence of Karvaly’s erection, now jabbing him in the navel.

“I think I’ll get up now. It sounds like Imre and Nick have the fire going.”

Pete unzipped the sleeping bag and slid out. He found dry clothes, dressed quickly, and left the tent. Karvaly, alone, whispered soothing words to his insistent prick, along the lines of, “Soon, soon.”

“Morning, Petey!” called Nick, who was pouring the first coffee. “Was that you I heard stomping around in the dark last night?”

“Yeah. I needed some air, and it just happened to start snowing at that moment. Bizarre weather up here, huh?” He sipped his coffee and tried to act like someone who enjoyed talking about the weather.

“How’d ya do with Karvaly last night?,” Nick leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “Everyone behave themselves?”

“Yes, everything was fine. I did hear you and Imre having some kind of slumber-party giggle fest last night, though. Did you behave yourself, or did you get to know that long, thin part of our friend that you were talking about before?”

“Ooh, I’m wounded,” cried Nick, clutching his chest in mock horror. “Since when does Petey do sexy trash talk?”

“Since I’ve spent three months with this dirty bastard you might now. Slutty, vain, arrogant, you know the type. Complete asshole.”

Nick laughed, and raised his steaming mug in a toast. “Very nice. I am so proud of you, Petey. Apparently when Karvaly tore you a new one last night some wit slipped in along with his big dick. Cheers!”

Then Pete did something that shocked him. He laughed. He actually saw humor in what Nick said, even if it was at his own expense, and he laughed. Oh, how far I have fallen, he thought.

“The good news is that now I’ll be able to take that tiny thing you call a dick and not even feel it,” he said with a winning smile, and walked over to say good morning to Imre.

Nick was stunned, and filled with admiration. He’d have to remember that one.

Warmth returned to the mountain quickly, erasing any trace of snowfall and bringing the temperatures high enough that the guys could again swim and play in the lake. This time Pete joined them, even engaging in a game of chicken on Nick’s shoulders. He found he could block out the feeling of his balls pressing against Nick’s broad, tan neck if he worked hard enough at it, and he even started to enjoy himself. After a long swim, all four arranged themselves on rocks at the water’s edge to warm in the sun.

Pete lay near Nick, while Imre and Karvaly shared a rock on the other side of the small inlet that replenished the water of the lake. After a few minutes of sunning, the pair got up and, putting on just their boots, walked up the trail that led along the ridge above the lake. This left Pete alone with Nick, who was already asleep in the sun, stretched like a cat on the warm rock. Pete didn’t feel sleepy, and Nick was unconscious, so he too put on his boots and headed up the trail. The others were far enough ahead of him that he could have some time to himself as he walked–he had a lot he needed to think through.

Pete was reviewing all that had happened since he met Nick, and it dawned on him as he walked that over the last six months the only times he had really been pushed to consider life–not as how he assumed it should be but life as other people lived it–was when he was with Nick. Pete was eager to get to college, mainly because he wanted to be challenged, to be pushed to expand his view of the world; didn’t Nick provide that for him? Oh god–he stopped dead in his tracks–what if Nick was his Imre? He stood stock still for a full minute while the horror and strange exhilaration of this thought washed over him. He was nowhere near knowing his mind on that question, so he began to walk again.

He had just taken his first step when he heard a noise off the side of the path he was on. It didn’t sound like an animal; rather, it sounded human. Like a voice. Karvaly’s voice.

Pete edged closer to the precipice that overlooked the stream bed below, and then he drew back suddenly. Imre and Karvaly were down there, at the edge of the stream, on a mossy outcropping shielded from the view of the path but visible from the slight rise where Pete now stood.

Imre and Karvaly stood by the water, kissing. Pete had seen this kind of show before, and he stepped away from the edge so that he could return to the path and go back to camp. But then he remembered Karvaly’s conversation last night about the relationship that he and Imre share. Last time, on the balcony of Imre’s grandmother’s house, he though he was seeing two gay lovers; now, here, down there, there were two straight men who loved each other, and found this way to express it. Did that make it different? Did it somehow explain what he had felt for Nick after the photo shoot, a feeling he had buried and paved over so that he could get on with his life?

Bewildered by so many synapses firing at once, Pete edged back to the overlook. Imre was now holding Karvaly’s enormous prick in both hands, rubbing it up and down. Pete knew how it felt–the small of his back tingled with the memory. Imre then reached for his boot, from which he drew a small tube of something that he squeezed out onto Karvaly’s cock. He then kissed Karvaly, and turned around on got down on all fours.

Holy shit, Pete thought. He’s going to take it. How is that even possible? And yet as he watched, Karvaly placed the tip of his bare cock against Imre’s hole, and then Pete saw the muscles of his ass indent on the sides with the strain of pushing. Pete was horrified. Imre’s face was a mask of calm, but Pete could see small furrows playing across his brow. It clearly hurt, but it was a hurt he wanted. How could that be, Pete wondered. Karvaly pushed, and then relaxed, and pushed again, and waited. He spoke softly to Imre in words that Pete could not understand, whether because they were too soft or were in another tongue he did not know. But each time Imre nodded, and Karvaly pushed further, working more of his huge cock into his friend.

The guttural cry rose out of Imre’s chest, somewhere deep inside him, and grew until he was roaring like a wounded bear, his face red with effort. Then he took a deep breath, set his jaw, and pushed back against Karvaly–hard. The rest of that thick flesh slid into him, and finally his wide-open ass met his best friend’s groin. They were joined, and they stayed that way, still, panting, for a long moment. Then, gently, slowly, Imre pulled forward an inch, two; then back again to press firmly against Karvaly’s balls. This was, apparently, the sign that Karvaly was waiting for; he began to thrust into Imre. Slowly at first, but quickly gaining momentum until he was throwing the entire length of his thick, veiny cock into him and pulling it almost all the way back out. Again and again he impaled Imre, faster and faster.

Pete’s attention turned to Imre when he began making gasping noises in time with Karvaly’s thrusts. His first thought was that Karvaly had punctured a lung with his wild jabbing. But then he noticed that Imre’s own cock had stiffened until it clung to his sweating, rippled belly like a missile under a bomber. It began to bob up and down, and as Imre’s moaning reached an impossibly high pitch, it began to ejaculate, untouched. It shot out a blast of white every time Karvaly thrust, keeping perfect time with the monster that was working it from inside. Imre shuddered and growled, shaking as the orgasm tore through him. Karvaly stiffened as the spasms that shot spunk from Imre’s cock tightened his ass, milking his thrusting prick until it too exploded. He pushed one more time into Imre, whose cock responded by shooting out a final white jet. His orgasm was a study of silent tension, his every muscle steely, as he breathlessly, noiselessly, filled Imre with the seed that would one day create his children.

Spent, they folded together on the mossy bank, Imre jumping slightly when Karvaly’s cock slid out of him, leaving him empty, shivering, and wet. He turned over and they kissed, and smiled, and laughed, babbling sweetnesses to each other in their suddenly poetic tongue.

Pete stepped back from the overlook, and walked back to the path. His erect cock pointed the way, and it was with a perverse relief that he noted it had not, for once, come all by itself. He willed it to soften as he walked back to the camp, leaving Imre and Karvaly to their cuddling. His mind was a whirl; he was not proud of his voyeurism, and he was somewhat disgusted by what the two of them had done down there by the stream. But he was not totally disgusted–why? Pete kept coming back to that conversation in the tent last night. As twisted as Karvaly’s logic had been, it made a certain kind of sense, at least out here in the wilderness where things can happen that no one else ever needed to see or think about.

As Pete rounded the last bend in the trail, he saw Nick still stretched on his back in the sun, naked. He was about to go to the tent to put on some shorts, but then, with a thrill of naughtiness, he shucked off his boots and was as naked as Nick. He walked quietly over to where Nick lay sleeping, and realized that this was the first time he had really looked at him; sleeping next to him for three months he had never really taken a good look–had never wanted to. But now, here, alone, he could look and not have anyone, even Nick, know.

Nick was, of course, tan from head to toe. His body clearly declared his commitment to working out, though Pete realized that he had no idea what sports, if any, Nick played. One rarely developed such comprehensive musculature without a competitive goal in mind. Nick’s collarbones stood out in smooth relief above his chest, which was powerfully built and sported the largest nipples Pete had ever seen. He had a queasy moment as he thought that perhaps Mr. Patronus had had that very same thought, but he pushed that out of his mind. Nick’s belly was flat and smooth, with muscles that were not ripped but rather insinuated beneath the skin. His pubic hair, Pete noted with some surprise, was neatly trimmed–how had he managed to manscape in this remote country? Perhaps the nuns were a fastidious bunch, he thought with a smile. His legs were powerfully built, like the rest of him, but without the exaggerated development that sometimes results from overtraining. Overall, Nick’s body was built for exactly the purpose for which he used it: seducing nuns, cameras, and geography teachers.

Motion caught Pete’s eye, and he turned involuntarily toward it; it was in Nick’s crotch–it was Nick’s cock.

Pete stared at Nick’s member as it lazily stretched and repositioned itself, turning its head to point upwards, up his stomach. Nick mumbled something in a dream, and his cock began to grow in earnest. As it moved upward, lengthening and thickening, it exposed Nick’s balls, which were churning up and down as if pumping the cock above them to even greater size. Pete was fascinated by the changes Nick’s penis went through, as the skin tightened and grew glossy, swollen with blood and lust for whomever he was talking to in his mumbled dreaming. Nick was thrusting now, his dick pumping in the air, his balls drawing tight.

Then Nick said, simply, “Oh, oh, oh,” and his cock did the rest. The first streak of white, heavy and unbroken, laced up his torso all the way to his collarbone. It was followed by five or six jets of cum, each reaching a lower point on his body until finally the last flowed from the tip of his cock and pooled by the head.

Pete had never seen anyone ejaculate before. He didn’t even watch himself cum when he masturbated, preferring instead to close his eyes and pretend that someone else was doing to him what his own hand was doing. He was astonished at the force of it, at the sheer volume of it, and the smell of it.

Suddenly he found himself retching into the lake, heaving everything he had eaten that day into the water, unable to breathe until his stomach was empty and he could bring up nothing more than acid. What the fuck was he doing here? He had just watched two guys buttfucking, and now he had watched–just sat there and watched!–his roommate have a wet dream. The smell of Nick’s cum was in his nostrils. Pete hurled again, unproductively and uncontrollably. He made himself sick, and he had to get the hell out of here, back to his normal life.

He had to leave. Now.

Pete dressed and packed up as quickly and as quietly as he could, and left a note scrawled on a luggage tag he found at the bottom of his pack: “Not feeling well, heading back. Don’t worry. Pete.” He took off down the trail at a jog, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the others, distance that he hoped would allow him to put this entire experience behind him.

As soon as Pete reached the outskirts of the city, he hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take him to Imre’s grandmother’s house; the car waited outside as he gathered his things from the room he shared with Nick. He loaded everything into the trunk of the taxi and asked the driver to take him to the hotel where Mr. Patronus was staying. He would know how to get Pete home.

CHAPTER NINE

Pete found himself back home two days later; Mr. Patronus had been able to arrange for a medical emergency ticket, on the basis of Pete’s nearly catatonic state when he arrived at the hotel. He clearly needed to get home right away, and Mr. Patronus had taken him to the airport immediately. He slept a total of about three hours over the two days in transit, and when he reached home he collapsed into bed for a full 24 hours.

He awoke when his mom sat on his bed and shook his leg gently. “Honey, it’s time to get up and have something to eat. You need to start thinking about getting packed for school.”

The idea of having to pack his life into boxes and drag them to college didn’t thrill Pete at the moment. He’d probably end up having Nick show up and find a way for them to room together for the year. Fucking Nick.

“And honey, Diane called–remember, she’s Toni’s cousin’s friend who works at the ad agency? Well, she called and said that there’s going to be some kind of unveiling at X&Y down at the mall next Saturday, and some pictures from the photo shoot you did might be up in the store. Isn’t that great? You should go.”

Pete winced at the mention of the X&Y shoot, mainly because it brought back the image of Nick, and the feel of Nick’s lips, and the dream he had had right on this bed, where is mom was now sitting and–

“Oh dear,” said Pete’s mom as she watched him bolt for the bathroom. “I guess he’s not quite right yet after his trip. Poor thing.”

CHAPTER TEN

Pete didn’t want to be at the mall for the event at X&Y, but his mom had been so excited about his going that he gave in and agreed to it. A similar event was being held at X&Y stores nationwide to launch the Winter collection, but this one was particularly well-attended because word had gotten out that some pictures shot locally were going to be displayed. This brought a crowd of the young and trendy, who loved X&Y’s overpriced clothes, and the older and paunchy, who loved X&Y’s oversexed models. There was a crowd gathered outside of the store well in advance of the 8pm unveiling, and Pete did his best to remain an anonymous part of it. He didn’t want anyone from his school to see him here.

At 8:05, fashionably late, a tan, stylish, and dangerously underweight young woman in impossibly high heels tottered out from the still-covered storefront to address the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Xavier and Young’s celebration of the winter season!”

The crowd dutifully applauded.

“It is my great pleasure to unveil the faces of the season!” She turned and made a graceful flourish toward the storefront, and the canvas covering it fell, revealing an 8-foot-tall gilt frame standing at the entrance to the store that held the centerpiece photograph, in artistic black and white.

It was a picture of Pete. And Nick.

The photographer had captured the moment just before their lips touched, but there was no doubt that their lips would touch. Nick’s eyes were closed, and Pete’s were open, but unfocused. The effect was one of total abandon to an illicit kiss, and that edge of the forbidden is exactly what X&Y’s agency wanted to convey. It was a risky move, but X&Y was pulling out all the stops in their battle with A&F. This was a serious frontal attack.

But Pete couldn’t care less about the retail marketing strategy of provocative, homoerotic photos; all he cared about was that, in his hometown mall, there was an 8-foot tall depiction of him about to kiss another guy. His life was over.

“Oh, hell yeah!” gushed a voice from behind Pete, who whirled around to see Nick standing there, wide-eyed, grinning.

“Oh, fuck me,” muttered Pete, who bolted for the quickest way out. The food court was close by, and relatively calm this time of day.

“Wait, Petey! Hold on!” Nick called, attracting the attention of several in the crowd, who immediately recognized him and shouted out that the models for the photo had come for the unveiling. The crowd began to move toward them.

Pete was actually relieved to hear the shouts of recognition, because he knew Nick would not be able to resist the urge to press the flesh with his admirers. He’d start doing his slutboy act, and Pete would slip out the side door. And then go somewhere and die quietly of embarrassment.

But Nick didn’t stop. He followed Pete. And the crowd followed him. Soon they were all heading into the food court.

“Pete, here!” Nick called, gesturing to a restaurant called The Teddy Bears’ Picnic. Due to its child-focused theme, it was deserted at this hour. Pete ducked in, Nick followed, and they were far enough ahead of the crowd that no one saw them disappear. The mob rushed through the food court and ended up in the parking lot, wondering where the models went.

Pete and Nick huddled under a table until they were sure that the crowd had passed. They climbed up into chairs and sat panting for a moment. Nick was just about to say something to Pete when the counter attendant, wearing a teddy bear costume, asked if they were going to order anything.

Pete, thinking it rude to hide from a rabid mob in a restaurant and not order something, asked for a small Fancy Fries and a Cheery Cherry Slush. They returned to their table with their food, and sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

“So, was I right about that picture, or was I right? Center stage, baby! Pretty awesome.” Nick was clearly pleased with himself.

“Nick, they just unveiled an eight-foot-tall billboard that reads, ‘Peter Dorsey is gay, and Nick Goodman is the gay man whose gay kiss made him gay.’ How does that qualify as awesome, would you please explain to me?”

“Dude, it’s us. Up there. In every X&Y in the whole country. We’re set, man.”

“This is a fucking disaster. My life is over. Your life, apparently, was already so fucked up that this latest bit of fucked-up-ness doesn’t even register.”

“I have just one question for you. Who the hell cares? It was a job. It’s not us up there, it’s roles we were playing. Everyone knows that.”

“No one knows that, Nick. They see two guys kissing, and they think, ‘Hey, those two guys are kissing–what do they call guys who do that? Oh, that’s right: gay.’ This time tomorrow everyone in this town will know for certain that you and I are gay, and are totally into each other.”

“Again, I ask, who the hell cares? Why does it matter what people think about you, Petey?”

“Because it’s not true, that’s why.”

“What isn’t true? Nick asked.

“I’m not gay!”

“Well, duh, You’re Straight Pete, remember?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me? You want to fuck me? You’re the one who’s all concerned about people thinking you’re gay, and now you want to throw everything off the table and fuck me right here? Talk about mixed messages.” Nick was enjoying this, too much.

“I’m serious. This is a nightmare.”

“I’m serious too. You need to lighten up on the whole sex thing. It’s giving you wrinkles. Stop worrying and just relax about it.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Look, I’m not like you, okay? My body isn’t an amusement park that the whole world is invited to.”

Nick fixed Pete with a quizzical look.

“Have you even had sex? I mean, with another person? I know you jerk off on Tuesdays and all, but, damn. You should really try to find an outlet.”

“What, like Imre and Karvaly and their love nest in the mountains?”

“Sure, why not? Or maybe one of the, oh, I don’t know, twelve thousand chicks who are going to be on your tail once they see your picture at X&Y?”

“What makes you think that women are going to want me, when the photographic evidence clearly shows that we are–well, into each other?”

“Because sexy is sexy, no matter what. Trust me on this one.”

“You sound like Karvaly.”

Nick was silent for a moment.

“So, about that. What the hell happened to you up there? I talked to Mr. Patronus when we got back to the city, and he said you weren’t feeling well and had to leave on an earlier flight. That’s all he would tell us, even though I asked him–hard.” Here Nick winked at Pete, to convey just how hard he had asked Mr. Patronus. “But no details. So, what happened?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Yeah, I got that part. But look, Petey,” Nick said, his hand brushing Pete’s on the table. “Look at me. Something happened up there. Something bad. Now, what was it? Did one of them do something to you? I swear to god, if they did…”

Pete was astonished, both that Nick would say this, and that his saying it made Pete feel so tight in the chest. Nick really cared for him. That made Pete feel somehow lighter than he’d felt in weeks. He hoped his face didn’t betray what he was feeling.

“No, it wasn’t anything they did … not to me at least. But after we swam that morning, they went off on a hike, and I followed a few minutes behind them. You were asleep, so you weren’t much company, so I thought I’d just take a walk. Well, they took a little detour, and I saw them by the stream. They were …”

“Oh my god, Petey, were they smooching again? Damn them, damn them to hell!” Nick giggled and slurped his drink.

“No, they weren’t smooching. They were buttfucking, okay?”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Please tell me that Imre was the fucker and Karvaly was the fuckee because …” He saw Pete’s head slowly shake side to side. “Oh god. Imre took that thing?”

Pete nodded.

“Whoa. He’s more of a man than I ever imagined. That’s some serious bone.”

“I know!”

Nick closed one eye and looked at Pete.

“How? How do you know? Every time anyone got naked you freaked out and would only look at your feet. When would you have had a chance to see how Karvaly’s hung?”

Pete blushed. Nick noticed. Pete expected him to open up with all kinds of razzing, but he just sat, considering.

“Pete,” he said quietly. “Did you and Karvaly …?”

“No! No, nothing happened. It’s just that when I came back to the tent from my little walk in the snowstorm, I was so cold that he wrapped me up in his sleeping bag.”

“Ah,” Nick nodded.

“With him still in it,” Pete continued.

“Oh,” Nick nodded again.

“And he was naked,” Pete whispered, looking down at the table.

“Uh-huh.”

“And so was I,” Pete mumbled, barely audible.

Nick looked at his friend for a moment.

“Are you all right? This seems like it’s crushing you,” he said softly.

“I don’t know if I’m all right. I don’t know anything right now.”

“When you were in the sleeping bag with Karvaly, was it okay? I mean, did it freak you out?”

“Yeah, when I woke up I freaked out a little. I could feel that monster of his pressed right against my back. It was all I could do to keep from screaming and running away.”

“But you didn’t. Why?”

“Because … because I thought of you. I thought of what you would say if I did, and that made me stay. I didn’t want to be the person you kept teasing me about being anymore.”

Nick took a deep breath. “Pete, I don’t know what to say. I hate to think that I made you do something you didn’t want to do.”

“I did want to do it. I mean, part of me wanted to be there with him. At least I thought I did. Oh, I don’t know. Once I got out of the tent, I thought everything was going to be okay, and then I saw the two of them fucking, and then I came back and saw you sleeping by the lake and I was watching you and then I felt like I was watching myself watching you and wondering why I wasn’t freaked out by you anymore, by your naked body anymore, and then you had this wet dream and I saw you cum and I smelled your cum and I just fucking freaked out and had to get away from it all and now I’m here with you and it’s all too fucking much, Nick, too fucking much!”

Exactly when Pete started crying he wasn’t sure, but his cheeks were now wet and his voice trailed off into a faint refrain of uncertain regret.

Nick reached his hand over to cover Pete’s, and though Pete pulled his hand back it was not as violently as when he had nearly thrown himself out of the car, and Nick reached out further and took it again.

“Petey, listen to me. Stop beating yourself up. None of this is any big deal. You have to stop doing this, or you’re going to kill yourself with it. You enjoyed being in a sleeping bag with a naked guy. So what? It was cold, and Karvaly was hot–very hot, I might add, dude was a racehorse–and you pressed up against him and it was nice. Good for you.”

“But, I’m not gay,” Pete choked out.

“I’m not saying you are. And honestly, I don’t even know what that word means. Imre and Karvaly, our eastern European butt pirates, kept talking at the baths about women, and who they might ask to marry them. I’ve only slept with women, but the idea of me and Karvaly in a sleeping bag together? Hot.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because I take pleasure where I find it. It feels good to press my naked body against another naked body–or two, in the case of the Marshall twins, those girls know how to … anyway–what does it matter who that other naked body is? Karvaly is hot. Imre is hot, for that matter, and you? You’re smokin’. Of course, I’m hotter than the rest of you bitches put together, goes without saying.”

“So you’d do anyone, anytime, no matter what?” Pete said, a note of accusation in his voice.

“No, of course not. They’d have to be hot.”

“So that makes you, what, then? Bisexual?”

“No, Petey, it makes me sexual, okay? I’m just sexual. We all are, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“But what does that mean?”

Nick grew exasperated. “It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t have to. Sex doesn’t define who you are, and it isn’t defined by what you do. It doesn’t matter who you do it with. Sex is sex, and it is what we are here for–if you think about it for a sec, it’s why we’re here in the first place. Don’t analyze it, don’t try to label it, just do it, Petey. Just do it.”

So Nick’s favorite philosopher is Nike. Good to know.

“It has to mean something. It has to. When Imre and Karvaly decided to start fucking each other, they became something different than they were before. When you kissed me–”

Here Pete gasped, shocked that he had started that sentence, but he was too emotionally drained to stop it now, so he just pressed on.

“When you kissed me I became something different than I was before. I need to know what that is, because it scares me not to know. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

The tears were flowing freely now, and his shoulders were shaking. Nick put down his teddy-bear shaped cup, got up, and came over to Pete’s side of the table. He put his arms around his shuddering friend, and pressed his cheek to his the top of his head. “Come on, Pete, let’s get out of here.”

Pete rose, allowing himself to be guided by Nick, who put his arm around him and held him tight as they walked out of the restaurant and to the exit. Standing between them and the door was a knot of X&Y fanatics who immediately recognized them. Their hormonal screams made Pete turn his face into Nick’s chest, away from the noise.

“Back off!” Nick growled as he charged with Pete through the middle of the group. “Leave us alone!”

Nick pushed through the doors and out into the late summer dusk. His car was close by, and soon he had Pete settled into the passenger seat. He started the engine and roared away from the mall.

They had been driving for fifteen minutes before Pete thought to ask, “Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something,” Nick replied, with a smile.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The car rolled on through the countryside that separated the small, boring city that Pete lived in from the small, boring city that Nick called home. Pete had never been this way before, and as the clouds of queasy emotion from the store unveiling began to part he wondered just where Nick was taking him. He looked over at his friend–he had to call him that now, though he had never used the word before, even in his mind–and felt safe. He trusted him, was confident in his goodness, and was content to let Nick take him wherever he wanted to go. He turned to watch the dying of the late summer sunset, the pinks and oranges giving way to a starless blue of deepest calm.

Nick steered the car off the highway onto a small, winding road, and after following that a few minutes he turned onto a dirt road that Pete hadn’t even seen as they approached. The ride was a bit bumpy, but Nick seemed to know the location of every significant pothole, and he steered smoothly through the slalom of disrepair. They reached a gate of sorts, a chain stretched across what was by this point little more than a two-track path through the woods. Nick slowed, and then carefully steered around the chain, his mirror barely clearing the large oak that stood guard at the path’s edge. Around another bend, up a rise, and he brought the car to a stop.

The sky had nearly finished its slide to inky blackness, and with the headlights off Pete could make out only the outlines of the trees that surrounded the car. Nick opened his car door, so Pete did as well and stepped out into the warm, still evening. He heard Nick walk around to the back of the car, open the trunk, and pull something out. When the trunk closed they were left in complete darkness.

“So, this is it?” Pete asked of the darkness.

“Not quite,” came the answer, Nick’s voice almost in his ear, startling him. “Follow me,” he said, and turned on a small flashlight. Pete followed as Nick climbed up the hill, through the trees and undergrowth, until finally he stopped.

“Now, this is it,” Nick announced. He spread on the ground the blanket he had pulled from the trunk, sat down on it, and switched off the flashlight.

“What is?” Pete asked, unable to see much of anything as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“Give your eyes a minute,” Nick replied.

Pete blinked several times, willing his pupils to widen.

“Here, sit down,” said Nick, patting the blanket. Pete sat. “Now,” Nick continued, “Look up.”

Suddenly Pete could see. They were in a meadow ringed with trees; in the sky above them were more stars than Pete could ever remember seeing at once. There were so many that they couldn’t be counted, not in any one lifetime, Pete thought.

“Oh,” was all he could think to say.

“I know, right?” said Nick, also looking up at the sky. “This place is surrounded by the hills, so there’s no light. Amazing, isn’t it?”

“I never knew the sky could look like this,” Pete said, wonder in his voice. “How did you find this place?”

“I used to bike all through these hills when I was into cycling. I got completely lost late one day, and ended up here. I was too tired to keep going, so I just laid down right here. When I woke up, I saw this.”

“It’s amazing.”

They stared at the stars, in silence, for several long minutes.

“I’ll bet you bring girls here all the time,” Pete finally said, breaking the silence.

“No,” Nick replied simply. “I only come alone. You’re the first one I’ve ever brought here.”

That twisting feeling in Pete’s stomach returned, but this time it was also warm, and a little shivery, and he had no idea what it was or what it meant. But he knew, this time, he kind of liked it. Kind of a lot.

“Why? I mean, why me?”

“Because, Petey,” replied Nick, making the name sound like a term of endearment rather than a teasing diminutive, “I wanted to share it with you. You’re the only person who’s ever needed me, who ever needed my help. Lots of people want me–which I love, not gonna lie–but you are the first person I have ever met who needed me. I could tell from that day at the photo shoot. It was like you were brought into my life for some purpose, because there was something I needed to give you. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized what it was.”

Pete was overwhelmed. He’d never heard Nick be so serious, and so genuine, and so–human.

“So, tell me, then,” Pete began, not at all sure he wanted to know the answer to this question, but more certain than he’d ever been that he needed to know, “What is it that you were brought into my life to give me?”

“You’ll have to wait for a little bit longer,” Nick said, a note of excitement in his voice. “Come over here.” He gestured for Pete to sit in front of him.

Pete did, wondering as he did so why his legs were shaking. He sat in front of Nick, both of them facing out into the meadow, and then Nick wrapped his arms around Pete and pulled him back until he was resting on Nick’s chest.

“Um, Nick?”

“Shhh.”

“What am I–”

“Shh, wait for it.”

Pete took a deep breath, and waited. For what he didn’t know.

Then–he saw it. At the edge of the meadow, near the trees that ringed the clearing, a sparkle of light. It lasted only a second, but it was soon joined by another. And then another, and another, and a few more. As Pete stared in wonder, the meadow was filled with fireflies, dazzling yellow-green streaks and spots of light surrounding them. It was like they were inside a snow globe filled with stars.

“Oh, my god, Nick,” whispered Pete.

“Yeah, I know,” Nick whispered back, his lips brushing the top of Pete’s head.

The fireflies danced and glittered around the two of them, alone on a blanket in a meadow, and the world beyond the trees ceased to exist. Pete turned back to look at Nick, who was haloed by a hundred surging and drifting points of light. He was beautiful, Pete knew that now, now that he had seen the beauty inside.

“When I woke up here that first time,” Nick continued, “I just stared at the stars and thought about how people have done the same since the beginning of time, and I felt connected somehow to something larger than me. But I was kind of frustrated that I didn’t know the names or locations of more than a couple of constellations.”

Pete nodded, his head resting against Nick’s chest, his eyes dazzled by the floating lights all around him and the stars above.

“And then these guys showed up, and it was like the stars had come to play. With me! And it was like they brought me a message: that the beauty of the stars, of their refusal to fit human rules–stars don’t want to make a stupid bear shape, they want to shine into the infinite!–is the beauty of all life. I sat here, surrounded by stars in the sky and stars shooting around me, and I saw it.”

Nick tightened his grip around Pete’s chest.

“This is why I brought you here. If I told you this you wouldn’t understand me, so I had to show you. Life is random, and it is beautiful. The stars are immortal, and fireflies live a few weeks, and we fall somewhere in between. We live long enough to forget we aren’t going to be here forever, and we let other people shape us, tell us what we mean, who we are. You can’t do that, Petey. You have to embrace this–this is life. Your life, and my life, and the life all around us.”

Pete was astonished. And he was grateful. And, he thought, maybe a little in love with Nick right now.

He turned around again, to see the fireflies dancing around Nick’s hair, giving his entire being a luminous glow, and he knew, right then, that he would do it.

He brought his face up to Nick’s, and he kissed him. And Nick kissed him back. A sparkling web of light surrounded them as they kissed, and the heavens shone.

Finally, finally, Pete broke the long kiss. He looked at Nick, into his eyes, and knew.

“I love you.”

Nick smiled, shook his head just slightly.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” he whispered. “I love you too.”

They kissed again, and again, until the meadow darkened as the fireflies tucked in for the night. There was a chill in the air now, as the hour grew late.

“I should get you home,” Nick finally said.

“Yeah,” replied Pete, with a sigh. “It’s been kind of a big day.”

They walked back to Nick’s car, and both, somewhere inside, wondered if they were returning to the world changed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Nick pulled up to Pete’s house at nearly 1 in the morning, Pete was surprised to see the lights on in the living room. As he was about to start college, his parents no longer waited up for him at night. Tonight–or rather, this morning–was different.