Chapter 60 is short, but important, and I am going to post the entire thing.
They lay long together in bed after the ferocity of their passion died down, never completely breaking away from touching one another somewhere, a hand on a shoulder, a knee sliding against a thigh, cheek against shoulder, drifting into a half doze and then stirring to another flurry of soft kisses that grew passionate, hardening them both, leading to another eruption of stroking and ejaculation, until they had worn themselves out, subsiding once more into lighter, more tender kissing and murmured endearments, then drifting once more.
Ennis drifted back to sleep, less heavy this time since he started to cut back on the pain medicine, feeling himself beginning to definitely recover, and slipped into one of those dreams that seemed half of his past, half of his present in a strange, intriguing and erotic mixture. A dream of fresh, cold mountain air, bright sun, aching blue sky, his arms holding the soft naked body of his lost Jack, pressing him down beneath him, listening to the moans he elicited with his fierce thrusts… never getting enough, pleasure coursing through him like white fire, culminating in a hoarse groan of release. And as they collapsed together, they tumbled, holding fast in a full body clinch, and he looked down into those endless blue eyes, and the face he saw was changed into the lean, long jawline, patrician nose and slate grey eyes, gleaming with lust and pleasure, saying “you wild bronc…” the words gripping him like a firm stroking hand, reigniting that core of white hot pleasure… his Ellery, the mischievous lover who had changed his life in a few short days. Another wave of excitement and pleasure washed over his body, threatening to push a great shout of joy from his lungs, and he heard it echo against the walls of the valley far below…
This is the man I loved…
Set in stone, now, to endure a hundred years of weathering without fading, carved with the power of his devotion. Something about this new element, this new man, had brought out the painful, shamed secret he held onto like a concealed wound since Jack’s death… this is the man I loved. He reached out, in his dream, feeling the solidity of flesh beneath his hands, burrowing into it, realizing with a clarity that seems to come only in the quiet solitude of dream… that he could no longer deny that he loved a man, and had for the first time, admitted it to himself. Because it had happened, first, in 1963, and now, twenty-one years later, it was happening again… felt the same, the urgent desire, the surge of pleasure, of rightness, and of simultaneous guilt and anxiety, for one never went without the other, for Ennis.
He woke fully then, an urgent thought on his mind, and he rummaged through the pile of clothes by the side of the bed, his fingers closing on Jack’s little journal. He picked it up and went into the bathroom, snapping on the light, setting it down while he relieved himself, washed his hands carefully and then picked it up once more, flipping the pages back to one particular entry….
"June 29: We did it. God I'm so shit scared I don't know what to say. Maybe he won't never talk to me again or maybe run me off with the rifle."
Ennis set the book back down, splashed water on his face from the tap, and looked at himself in the mirror. “Yer queer, boy. Ya fuck men an it feels real good. An ya loved a man fer yer whole fuckin life. An yer lovin one now.” He stood silent before the mirror after making these pronouncements, his eyes gleaming with emotion, his drawn-down mouth looking doubtful. “An that ain’t gonna change,” he added softly, picked up the journal, and went back to bed, climbing in and sliding his arms around his lover, slipping slowly back into the comfort of sleep, his anxiety now assuaged.
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Topic: Taking Chances, by E. L. Van Hine and L.H. Nicoll (Read 4114013 times)