Page 14 of Pages of My Heart
Charlie lifts onto his elbows, chest heaving and mouth hanging open. He nods, dazed looking but sure. “Yeah, let’s try.”
Thomas carefully pulls his fingers from Charlie’s body and then covers his own aching shaft with Vaseline. Charlie makes to flip over and get back on his hands and knees, but Thomas stops him with a gentle hand.
“No, just—let’s try like this. Want to see you.”
Charlie looks nonplussed, but he doesn’t protest. Shuffling closer, Thomas lines up with Charlie’s entrance and tries to hold himself steady.
“Ready?”
Charlie licks his lips and nods once.
There is still resistance when Thomas starts to push, but this time when Charlie cries out, head thrown back against the pillow, it’s clear it’s not from pain but from pleasure. Already everything about this second time feels better—the position is far more intimate, and he’s able to watch the expressions dance across Charlie’s face as he breaches his rim. Thomas prays for self-control. For restraint. Gradually, inch by inch, his cock disappears inside Charlie until their bodies are completely joined,his dick throbbing almost painfully inside the tight heat. It’s nothing like a hand, or even a mouth. This is all-consuming, thought-stealing bliss.
“Kiss me, Tommy.” Charlie reaches urgently for him. “Please.”
Thomas lowers himself over Charlie and brings their mouths together, willing himself not to orgasm too soon. Charlie pants and whines, feet coming up to wrap around Thomas’s hips. Thomas thrusts, his cock sliding smoothly in and out with the aid of the Vaseline. Butoh Godit is so tight. There is no way he can last, the sensation, the pressure, all so unbearably good. He uses a hand to hoist Charlie’s thigh higher on his hip, driving deeper and deeper. He’s moaning so loudly as he thrusts, so desperately, that he cannot believe it’s his own voice.
“Oh God, Charlie, I can’t stop it,” he cries out. “You feel so good, so perfect. I can’t—”
Thomas tumbles over the edge, groaning brokenly into Charlie’s open mouth. No release has ever felt like this before, ever been this strong or made his body tremble so uncontrollably.
When Thomas comes back to his senses, Charlie is gently petting at his hair and running a soothing hand down his back. Thomas smiles at him dopily and starts peppering his face with sweet kisses. Charlie laughs and squirms beneath him, and with a start Thomas realizes that Charlie is still hard. Guilt washes over him as he recognizes his selfishness.
“What can I do?” he asks. “Tell me what you need.” Thomas sits back up onto his knees and takes Charlie’s cock in hand. It looks painfully hard, and Charlie has leaked all over both of their stomachs.
“Use your hand. But . . . can youstay inside me?”
Thomas slowly thrusts with his softening cock as he strokes Charlie’s length. He thinks he could actually get hard again, the sight of Charlie flushed and sweaty enough to have his balls already tingling, but it takes only a few minutes for Charlie to reach his climax, his eyes closed tight and a string of profanities falling from his swollen lips. Thomas didn’t get to see Charlie come when they were locked together in the alleyway, but this time he watches Charlie’s thick seed shoot up and then drip down over his hand. He finds it incredibly erotic.
Charlie’s breathing eventually levels out and he opens his eyes. Even in the dark of the room, Thomas is stunned by their brilliant shade of blue.
“You’re beautiful, Charlie,” he says again.
Eyes still locked, Thomas brings his hand to his mouth and tastes Charlie’s seed. He doesn’t know why he does it, and for a second, he freezes, unsure. But then Charlie moans, a sinful rumble in the back of his throat, and Thomas licks the rest of his fingers clean.
When he pulls out his softened cock, it shocks him to see his own come drip slowly from Charlie’s hole.
“God damn,” he whispers.
Thomas doesn’t quite understand what he’s feeling, but he knows he doesn’t want anyone else to experience this with Charlie. He already wants to take Charlie again. Is this love? Or just lust? The feelings overwhelm him, so he does the only thing that makes sense and covers Charlie’s body with his own, kissing him deeply.
They nuzzle and kiss and gently explore each other’s bodies for a long time until sleep finally tugs at their minds and claws at their bodies. They should get up and bathe, but Thomas cannot bear to detach himself from Charlie or this bed. Thomas whispers sweet things into the dark—vulnerable things, things thatexpose parts of himself that he’s never revealed to another—and Charlie gifts him the same in return.
With Charlie pressed to his side and breathing evenly against his neck, Thomas closes his eyes, a final thought floating through his mind before sleep takes him.
I think I love you, Charlie Miller.
Chapter 7
September 14th, 1943
To my dearest Red,
Our platoon is back at base camp on 48 hours rest. I just received your letter, sweetheart, and it made me tear up something bad. My hands were shaking as I read it and I had to huddle in the corner of our barracks, away from prying eyes. All the boys talk about their girls or their wives, and I’ve told them my girl has red hair and so I call her Red. But once or twice, when we’re all talking about missing our sweethearts, I’ve almost said your name. Because I’m tired. So fucking tired, and it’s hard not to slip up when my defenses are down. You’ve got no idea how bad I just want to say your name aloud. When I seek a release on the rare occasion it’s safe to do so, I silently mouth your name as the pleasure rolls over me. Do you say my name, sweetheart?
On my birthday I prayed to God to keep me alive for another year. Not 1 hour later, Wilson, the tall blond kid I told you about, got his face shot off not 2 feet from where I stood. Red, there was not a fucking thing I could do. He was dead before his body hit the ground. What kind of fucking God would do that?
We lost 4 menthat day. I think I killed 2. Being angry helps me focus on the task at hand, I guess. But at night it hits you. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell yourself that we’ve got to win this war, that we’ve got to defeat that evil bastard Hitler—it still kills you to see young men stripped of their lives. And to take a life? Even when it’s a damn Kraut, it’s a twisted fucking mess of pride and guilt. I can’t put it into words, but it sits fucking heavy in my gut.
