To show he meant what he said, he slowly unsnapped the buttons on Marston’s shirt, and even more slowly, pulled the shirttails out from the waist of Marston’s jeans. Then he made Marston sit down so he could untie his boots and pull off his socks, all the while, pretty much naked, with Marston’s hands skimming his hips, barely touching, a butterfly’s kiss.
Marston’s body was beautiful to behold, muscled lines along his legs, broad shoulders, solid waist, and those arms around him when Kell had finally disrobed Marston to his skin. He could feel the hardness of Marston’s cock pressed between their bodies, and his own hardness rising to meet it. His heart thudding like a runaway thing.
“We’ll start with a shower,” said Marston, reaching to turn the shower on full force. “Then we’ll go back to my tent so we can lie down and do this properly.”
“Not standing up?” asked Kell, eagerly following Marston beneath the spray.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” said Marston. He tipped his head back and let the spray bounce around his head, his shoulders. “But I can go slow if we’re in bed.”
“Wecan go slow,” said Kell. “It’s not just going to be you doing me. It’s going to go both ways.”
“Okay.”
They traded kisses beneath the spray, wet lips meeting, tongues touching, a flicker of warmth and salt mixed with the heat and force of the water. When they parted, Marston gently washed Kell’s hair, a novel sensation that made Kell purr, deep in his chest, as Marston’s fingers massaged his scalp and tendered all the tension away until Kell felt like he was floating amidst a layer of bubbles. Then Marston bathed him all over, top to toe, using the washcloth and the bar of Castile soap, scrubbing along his thighs, between his legs, everywhere.
When he gave the washcloth and soap over to Kell, Kell knew what to do, what felt good. Where to scrub and how hard. Marston was a bit taller than him, so he had Marston bend down a little so he could wash Marston’s hair, urging him beneath the spray so he could make sure all the soap was out.
“I’m surprised we never ran out of hot water,” said Kell when Marston turned off the shower and they began buffing each other down.
“There’s a hot water on demand system in place,” said Marston. “We could actually shower all night if we wanted to, but then we’d be prunes.”
He held up Kell’s hands and kissed his fingers one by one. Lingering, eyes half closed, reverential, as if he were praying.
“C’mon,” he said, finally straightening. “Let’s dry off and head back.”
They traded kisses while getting dressed and then hand in hand as they walked along the path in the growing darkness, they traded more, quick laughter beneath the press of mouths, the stars in Marston’s eyes, all of this branding itself on Kell’s heart.
The scent of pine cooling from the heat of the day became laced into his skin, and the echo of their boots on the wooden platform in front of Marston’s tent echoed its way into permanence in his brain. He would never forget Marston’s soft touch to his cheek before he unzipped his tent and reached in to flick on the overhead light. Nor the way Marston pulled him close, kisses to his cheeks, his temples, Marston’s hands, strong and sure, clasping his face.
“Good so far?” asked Marston, checking in with Kell because that’s just who he was.
“Yes. Oh, yes.” The words escaped Kell’s throat as he rose on his toes and eased himself further into Marston’s embrace. “Get the screen,” said Kell, whispering against Marston’s mouth. “So the mosquitoes don’t eat us alive.”
Marston did as Kell asked, zipping the outside flap as well so they were enclosed in their canvas cave, leaving the darkness outside, the bit of wind, the lingering of the sunset above the ridge.
It was their own private world now, with no one watching, just the two of them, quickly getting undressed, right down to their boots, their boxers, and slipping into the cot, with Marston pausing to flick off the light. Even so, with the light out, there was ambient light at the head of the tent, where Marston had the top of the flap zipped down to let in a small breeze.
Marston began by touching Kell all over, kissing with his fingers, a sweet touch behind his ear, a stroke along his ribs, his hip, and then down his legs. All of this over and over until Kell was shivering, hard against his belly, breathless, mouth open, seeking a kiss. Which he got, and then some, a flick of Marston’s tongue, the pressure and the warmth, Marston’s arms around his shoulders, the heft of him comforting and solid.
“I don’t mean to—” he began, sliding off Kell.
“No, stay,” said Kell, looping his arms around Marston’s neck to tie him fast, to keep him where he was forever.
The weight remained, the tangle of his thighs with Marston’s thighs, the scratch of leg hair, the brush of pubic hair, all of this delicious and lingering, all in a dreamy slowness that outshone even his fiercest and most durable fantasies.
This was real. Marston was real, his kisses hot, his hand shaking when he reached between Kell’s thighs and gathered him up, stroking oh, so slowly, an agonizing softness replaced by a hard stroke or two and then back again until Kell felt a dance of light building in his spine, until he didn’t know whether he was floating or drawing.
“A little—” he gasped, stopping to lick his dry lips. “Harder,” he finished, blinking as he said it, looking up into Marston’s blue-gold eyes, so dark and deep he wanted to fall into them.
Marston obliged him, kissing Kell hard as his hand sped up, the curve of his body around Kell all but absorbing him, as if their bodies were merging, skins melding, until a ripple of delighted energy sparked through him and he came into Marston’s hand, arching against Marson’s chest, sighing as he was kissed and kissed again.
Then Kell did his best to return the favor, stroking Marston’s cock, feeling clumsy, his fingers doing all the wrong things at the wrong time. But, beneath his inept touch, Marston felt new, and arched his back, his neck, a guttural sigh echoing in the air, his chest rising and falling. And when Marston came in Kell’s hand, the length of his body hot against Kell, pleasure flushed his face, and a final gasp of pleasure against Kell’s cheek told him that maybe Marston had liked what Kell had done to him, just the same.
As Marston caught his breath, Kell caught his and did his best to hold on to the sensations turning into vapor all around him. Marston kissed his closed eyes and asked, “Better than in the shower?”
“Not better.” Kell shook his head and opened his eyes, knowing this like he knew nothing else. “New. Good. But not better. Can’t measure something like that, you know. Don’t think there’s a scale for it.”
“No, you’re right.” Marston kissed a long line from his shoulder, up his neck, possessing Kell’s mouth with a sigh that seemed to come from deep within him. “I wish we’d done it this way for your first time—” he began, but Kell stilled him, his palm to Marston’s mouth.
