(during DISCOVERED IN A GRAVEYARD)

Georgia - red clay, white mansions, green lawns, blue sky - wisteria, willow and white pines, cool pools fed by underground streams - hot, humid days, where the sun beats down, baking skin till it's the color of the red clay earth.

And you - a beautiful tan, auburn hints in curls grown long and lush as the willow - white swim trunks stretched tight over an erection. You lean against me, wistful and warm, soft curves instead of hard edges. I can't help but smile.

Holding you, our faces pressed together, I can hear our hearts beating as one in the quiet of the sultry afternoon. You've let tiny kisses on your neck and shoulder, the gentle rubbing of your bronzed nipples, the tender nuzzling of an ear hidden by a cascade of curls, make you hard. We have all the time in the world. The only decision is whether I reach into those taut briefs and caress you till you come, or whether I take you, coming from behind, buried deep in you.

The languid way you rest against me, content to be mine in any way I choose, speaks silently, eloquently of the love we share. The hot, humid air is cool compared to the heat I feel wherever our bodies touch. A fine sheen of sweat makes us glisten in the sunlight filtering into the overgrown glade. You sigh softly, your breath the only whisper of a breeze. Though we both burn with desire, there is such contentment, such peace in your waiting, in your surrender of will, that I tremble in response.

Slowly, I inch my hand across the smooth muscles of your belly. Brushing ever so lightly over your captive cock, I dip my hand into the cool water and sprinkle it up your inner thigh. Your muscles twitch as I slip inside the white bikini. Your balls nestle in my hand, comfortable in the knowledge that they belong to me. I lap at the salty sweat which has gathered in the hollow of your collar bone. You sigh again and I know I have to be in you, to be one with you.

I squeeze your balls gently and move on to your cock - that long, graceful column of flesh which earlier had won the surrender of my south. Prick pulsing, you stiffen further. Another sigh escapes your lovely lips as I skim my thumbnail over the engorged cockhead and dip into the juiced slit. You wiggle against me.

Still holding you, teasing you, I kiss your neck and shoulder, nipping lightly, blowing on sensitive skin, tasting goosebumps with my tongue. You begin to move against me, silently urging me to take you. I touch my fingers to the surface of the pool; water droplets cling to fingertips as I reach inside your briefs, dribbling the refreshing wetness down the crease between your buttocks. Another sigh as I follow that water to your hole, as I penetrate that tight ring of muscle.

For several minutes you try to stand still, letting me take you further. When you start to moan softly, continuously, I know it's time. Abandoning you, I slip both hands into the water, bringing what I can of its coolness to your hot skin as I run my hands up your chest. You push against me and whimper. I turn your face to the side. The hunger with which your lips devour mine sends chills down my spine. I quiver in response to the passion I taste.

Carefully, I secure the snug fabric of your trunks around your straining prick. One hand cradling you, I step back. Tiny kisses down your spinal cord make your cock throb. Caressing the cockhead once, I pull the nylon down to expose your gorgeous arse; I pause to admire the view. Mine to touch this time, I fondle you. My own cock twitches and pulses with longing. Sensing my reaction, you push backward, silently surrendering once more. A whispered murmur escapes your lips. I had wanted to kneel, to kiss every bit of you, to tongue your hole, to reach inside with cool water and massage you till you were unable to stand; but, you're at that point now.

I splash water on myself, letting it slide down my chest and drip from my cock. Wet hands almost burning on your sun-browned flesh, I position myself and push in, the heat inside you hotter than that enveloping us. You impale yourself further, filling yourself with me, wanting me deep within. Burying my face in your curls, breathing in the scent of you, I lose myself in the sensual magic of this stolen moment in such a hidden place.

Where my skin was wet, it burns now as I move in and out, keeping pace with the rhythm of two hearts beating as one. Sliding against you, holding you as your body tenses, thrusting deeply as you lose control, I feel one with you and every creature watching yet another mating dance. A peace untainted by alarms, sirens and the shrill sounds of our everyday world claims me as I come, following you into orgasm by mere seconds.

Still held tightly, together we slip to our knees in the welcoming embrace of the water. You lean heavily against me; my cock spasms again, caught in another sort of ecstasy as we both revel in the love we share. Here in this remote spot, with no one to tell us differently, we are simply a part of the world order, no more unnatural than the birds or the vines or the stillness of the glade which swaddles us in its embrace. Breathing deeply of the rarefied serenity that surrounds us, makes us one with each other and this sanctuary, I can't help but kiss you.

In response, you turn your face toward me. Your eyes open and I'm dazzled by their green depths. I see in them the love you rarely reveal; I am lost to you forever. A lazy smile of sated satisfaction graces your lips, inviting me to kiss them and claim you that way too. Needing to taste and feel the affection you radiate, I slip from you and shift our positions. When you are in my arms, willingly giving your strength to me, I gently, almost hesitantly, kiss you, afraid that this moment will be but a dream. The softness of your lips, the hardness of muscle pressed close, belie that fear, and I lose myself in you once more.

When we are breathless and clinging to one another as we ride a small wave of pleasure, I stand. You rest your head against my cock and balls, silently conveying your love; words are out of place here, so I settle for ruffling those wonderful curls.

Eventually, you look up and smile at me. Fire burns through me as I see the love, still freely given and not concealed. Taking your hands, I pull you up for a last, lingering kiss before we walk, hand in hand, to the mossy bank.

---

The hand on his shoulder startled him; Bodie hastily looked around, searching for a clue as to where he was, why he wasn't lying next to Doyle in the Georgia glade.

"Mr. Bodie, you really should go home and sleep. I said we would call if he wakes."

Staring into the kind face of the sister, Bodie could see the compassion in her hazel-colored eyes. "Please let me stay." If she had been the cynical woman who ruled the afternoon shift, he wouldn't have asked; he'd have simply remained.

A smile of understanding on her unadorned lips, the woman nodded. "I've always felt that comatose patients are aware, at some level, of our presence and concern." Three a.m. brought out her Irish accent. "Would you like coffee?"

Bodie nodded. "Thank you." The woman patted his shoulder and left. When he was once more alone with Doyle, Bodie leaned close to his partner. "Ray...Ray...Ray...." he called softly. "You have to come back. We haven't even started yet. Please come back...to me." Bodie watched for any sign of consciousness. He sat back in his chair when he heard footsteps approach. Grateful, he accepted the cup the sister handed him.

"He means a great deal to you, doesn't he?"

"He's my partner," Bodie admitted between sips. "We're in CI5," he added, wondering himself what that was supposed to explain.

"Oh."

There was something in the way the woman said the word that made Bodie look her in the eye. Before he was sure she had meant what he thought, she turned to leave.

"I'll say a prayer for him...for you both."

Bodie watched her go. He felt certain hers were prayers that would be heard. Facing Doyle again, Bodie drank his coffee. When he was finished, he put his head on the bed, near Doyle's hand. "Come back, Ray - please," he whispered as he let himself drift.

He was so exhausted, the coffee seemed to have no affect. Soon, Bodie was once more back in the dreamscape he'd recently been roused from.

---

Plastered against Doyle's sun-baked body, Bodie felt the sticky heat of a summer afternoon seep into him. He lifted his head only to find discerning green eyes staring at him. "Will you come back with me?" Bodie blurted out.

Doyle nodded.

Relieved, Bodie settled against his lover. "'Grow old along with me,"' he mumbled, quoting one of the few bits of Browning he knew, "'the best is yet to be.'" He'd just nestled into a deep, peaceful slumber, one full of the warmth of a stolen afternoon nap when he felt a prickly sensation, his response to being watched. Looking around, he realized that Doyle was still observing him. Only this time, they weren't in a Georgian glade. The tubes connecting Doyle to various machines partially obscured his face and the man's hand, resting now on Bodie's shoulder, was cold even through the wool of his jacket. "Ray?"

Green eyes managed a feeble bit of brightness before lids fluttered and closed.

Alarmed, scared that Doyle had died, Bodie sat up and felt the nearby wrist, searching for a pulse. When he was satisfied that his partner was simply dozing, Bodie sighed deeply with relief. "Ray?" he said softly, not wanting to wake Doyle, yet needing confirmation that the man had, in fact, been awake for a moment.

The eyelids fluttered once more. Doyle's chest heaved as he struggled to open his eyes.

Reassured that he hadn't dreamed Doyle to consciousness, Bodie quickly said, "It's okay, Ray. I just wanted to know that you were still with me."

A wan smile made its way to Doyle's lips. He tried to speak.

Not surprised that the very verbal Doyle would attempt to talk immediately upon emergence from a coma, Bodie moved closer to his partner. Doyle's breath, warm and moist, skimmed across Bodie's ear, evoking a shiver of suppressed desire.

"Promise?" Doyle murmured, voice barely audible.

"Promise what?" queried Bodie as he straightened, looking at Doyle. The eyelids opened, revealing the saucer-sized eyes and the love in the green depths, love that Bodie had last been given in a Georgia willow glade.

"Georg - " replied Doyle, falling asleep mid-word.

"George?" Bodie repeated, puzzled. "What the fuck's Cowley - " He stopped as it occurred to him that Doyle meant Georgia, not George. "But how?" Bodie asked himself, his logical, firmly grounded, mind rebelling at the notion of Doyle sharing the dream. A moan drew Bodie's thoughts back to his partner. Carefully, Bodie sandwiched the cold hand between his own. Though he didn't believe Doyle could have known of the way Georgia clay clung to sweaty skin; the way wet, white swim trucks outlined a hard cock, the way they'd said, "I love you," in the coolness of the willow pool, Bodie nonetheless whispered, "I promise."

Doyle's eyelids fluttered open.

There was something in the emerald eyes of that sated surrender on a summer afternoon that took Bodie back to the wading pool and reminded him of how it felt to be pressed against Doyle, held by the sweat and the stickiness of a humid day. Once more, he could feel his own surrender as he came deep inside Doyle. Cock twitching with the memory, Bodie leaned forward. Brushing damp, limp curls off a fevered forehead, he gently kissed his partner. "I promise you moonlit nights on the moor, morning kisses and midnight caresses, hot summer afternoons in a willow glade, seaside rendezvous - " Bodie stopped. "I love you, Ray," he whispered.

Doyle sighed softly and closed his eyes as if the confession were all he'd awakened for.

Bodie smiled. "Get some sleep, sunshine." He intended to kiss Doyle's forehead, but from the way the man had pushed his head back into the pillows, Bodie knew what his partner wanted. After checking, Bodie lightly kissed Doyle's slightly parted lips.

"Promise?" Doyle murmured.

Surprised that Doyle was still conscious, Bodie drew in a deep breath. He kissed Doyle's irregular cheekbone and answered, "I promise that when we really wake up from this nightmare, I won't renege. That doesn't mean I won't be afraid, but I meant what I said. Do you understand?"

Taking the raspy breath Doyle exhaled as a "yes", Bodie tucked the covers around his partner's body. "Sleep, Ray," he repeated. "I have a lot of work to do if I'm to catch your assailant. Can you tell me anything about who did this?"

Rhythmic breathing was Doyle's response, making Bodie realize his partner had finally, really fallen asleep. Presuming, however illogically, that Doyle would now recover, Bodie decided to go home; he'd need a decent sleep if he were to succeed at one of the most important jobs he'd ever had.

And yet, he was reluctant to leave. He knew Doyle was asleep, but Bodie just couldn't abandon the man, not in the dark heart of the night. Resigned to a few stolen hours of sleep in the chair, he sat down once more, placing his head on the bed, next to Doyle's thigh.

Determined to dream, Bodie pictured the willow glade with its overgrown pool; he pictured Doyle in the white bikini briefs, erection outlined by the clingy, wet fabric; he pictured the sun-browned body pressed against him. By the time he tasted sun-warmed lips, Bodie was asleep, lost in the humid heat of the willow glade.

---

A few hours later, Ray Doyle awoke again. He saw Bodie asleep. Hoping the man's promise of love had not been simply an illusion cast by the curious dreams he'd found himself in, Doyle mustered the energy to caress the sliver of skin exposed at the nape of Bodie's neck. The fine, dark hair tickled as Doyle watched his fingers creep into the silky tresses. He closed his eyes, intent on returning to the Georgia willow glade he'd just left.

There, he was once again surrounded by Bodie's strong arms. Held in a tight embrace, he felt the love and concern radiate from his lover; their hearts, it seemed, beating as one. He ran his fingers up Bodie's back and into the closely cropped hair - determined to curl in the summertime humidity. Pulling Bodie even closer, Doyle tasted sun-ripened lips. Content with the silent promise behind the kiss, he again settled into sweet surrender on a lazy summer afternoon in the willow pool.

-- THE END --

Originally published in the circuit zine Coming From Behind, Noel Silva