Without another word, Cal hopped down from the exam table and led Zeke out of the first aid hut, carefully and quietly closing the door behind him. Then he led Zeke along the path, past the mess tent, and down the road of team leads’ tents.
“What’re we doing?” asked Zeke, though the way Cal dragged him up the wooden steps to his tent might have given him a clue if he wasn’t so lunkheaded about all of this.
“You can guess,” said Cal as he zipped the tent flap closed and began tugging Zeke’s shirt from his jeans.
“You should rest.” Zeke took Cal's hands in his, clasping them to his chest, drawing Cal close. “You should.”
“Later.” Cal breathed a kiss against Zeke’s mouth, making Zeke’s blood quicken, tension dropping away from him. “Later. For now, this.”
This. Cal unbuttoning Zeke’s shirt with careful fingers. Cal drawing the shirt away and kissing the breadth of Zeke’s chest. It was mid-day. Zeke wasn’t a prude, but it wasmid-day.
“Don’t worry about anything now.”
Cal took off his own shirt, and led the way as both of them took all of their clothes off and stood hip to hip in the tent as the sun warmed the green canvas, bringing with it the scent of pine trees and soft, water-scented air.
Everything slowed down to an easy pace as Cal pulled him to the cot and they tugged a single white cotton sheet over them both. Zeke leaned on his elbow and let the moment soak into them.
“A dalliance in the middle of the morning is not exactly in the guidelines,” said Zeke, quietly and a little playfully as he curled his fingers around the back of Cal’s neck.
“I need this.” Cal sounded a little desperate, still a little shook, so Zeke tugged him close and kissed him until his breathing evened out and he settled in Zeke’s arms, and they were chest to chest, naked against each other.
“Tell me what you need.”
“You,” said Cal without a moment’s hesitation. “Just this. Just you.”
Nobody had ever wanted Zeke the way Cal did. He didn’t expect Zeke to be anything other than what he was, it seemed, and this idea wound through him, easy and sweet. To be so wanted. So loved.
Yes, that was the word, and he knew it would be right to say it out loud, but it was still hard. He’d only said it to Betty Lou when the occasion warranted it, when she seemed to expect it. And looking back, that seemed a short-minded way to treat someone he’d been intending to marry.
“I love you, Cal,” he said before he could stop himself.
He kissed Cal on the forehead, and then on the nose, and cheek, and then his lovely mouth. Taking his time, expressing everything he felt in every touch, every place his hands touched Cal.
“I’ve felt it for a while, but didn’t quite know how to go about saying it.”
“You’re saying it now.” Cal’s smile was sweet, his blue eyes focused on Zeke, a flush rising in his cheeks. “I know it’s not easy to say. But I can say it to you. I love you, Zeke Molloy. You make me feel safe.”
Zeke smiled at this. “I aim to make you feel more than safe, Callahan Tamalin.”
Cal’s small gasp of pleasure was unexpected, as was his flinging his arms around Zeke’s neck, and almost making them bang foreheads. With a laugh, he let Zeke go and kissed him hard.
“You can aim to do anything you want with me,” said Cal, stroking his fingers along Zeke’s chest. “Anything at all.”
“One day,” said Zeke, gathering up his courage. “We might go all the way, you know. Like men and women do?—”
“We might,” said Cal with a smile, as if he meant to tease, but then he ducked his chin and looked up at Zeke, sweetly, through his lashes. “When we’re ready.”
He sounded so wise, like he’d experienced everything the world had to offer, but only wanted what Zeke wanted to give him.
What Zeke wanted to give him was everything in the world he’d ever wanted. For now, he would do what he could to make Cal feel loved.
So he pushed the sheet aside and eased down between Cal’s legs and took Cal’s cock in his mouth and let it sit there, warm and still.
He could feel the blood pulsing on his tongue as Cal grew hard, taste the salt, and heard Cal gasp as he arched his head back into the pillow.
The last time he’d done this, given Cal a blow job, it had all felt so new, even foreign. Strange to feel so, when he’d gotten any number of blow jobs in his time, good, average, sloppy, even hurried.
For Cal, though, he could easily push past the strangeness, and do to Cal what he himself enjoyed. Soft strokes, gentle licks. A bit of hard sucking followed by soft.
