across the bed, Don took Patrick’s hand into his own. “Was it really just last night?” Their lips touched, and to Don’s delight, their kiss was slow and long. They had time. With no reason to rush, he wanted to savor every minute with this man. “You know—I—” Don’s cheeks grew warm and he was sure he was blushing. “I was afraid you might not call.”
“What?” Patrick massaged Don’s palm. “You couldn’t see how crazy I was when we met?”
“Yeah, guess I could.” The two men laughed and kissed again. “But you didn’t call today until after fourteen, I mean two o’ clock—listen to me! ‘You didn’t call!’ I sound pathetic, not like a gunnery sergeant in the United States Marine Corps.”
“Woof! Say that again.”
Don got on his knees. As loudly as he dared in the officers’ building, he shouted, “Gunnery Sergeant D. A. Hawkins, United States Marine Corps, reporting as ordered, sir!” As he said “sir,” he whipped his shirt off over his head, leaned across the bed and ripped Patrick’s off as well. As he disrobed the lieutenant, he feared he might be going too fast. But when Patrick’s head popped out of his shirt, Don saw the most charming—and willing—smile he’d ever seen on a man. “Awesome.” He ran his hand over Patrick’s tight and lean abs.
“What’s the ‘A’ stand for?” Patrick asked.
Don hesitated. “I could tell you—but then I’d have to eat you.”
“What’re you waiting for?” Patrick pulled Don down to the bed. “Tell me now!”
“Antonio.”
“Antonio,” Patrick said. “That’s a great name. You Italian? That’d explain your looks.”
“My mom was.” Patrick’s face winced at Don’s use of past tense. “Died when I was a baby. Hodgkin’s. Today she coulda been treated, but in the early sixties, it was different.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“Stop it. No downers, not today.” He ran his hand over the smooth skin covering Patrick’s shoulders and arms. “Tell me about your day.”
“Well…” Patrick began, “I wanted to call you sooner, but I got a late start. Checked out of the hotel in San Diego. Drove up here. Gosh, I didn’t realize what a long drive that is.”
“Don’t have to tell me. It’s thirty-eight miles from my condo in Vista to WC’s. After a few hundred times it’s not so bad. Ask Robbi. She drives it daily from her girlfriend’s in Hillcrest.”
“Then I checked into this room.” Patrick waved his hand around the drab space with Spartan furnishings. “Not the Ritz. But if you stand on the bed, you can see the ocean.”
“It is the Ritz compared to what we enlisted folks get. Only one of your chairs is broken.” Don sniffed. “Hell, you can hardly even smell the asbestos.” They laughed and stared into each other’s eyes. “Did you find an apartment?”
“Yep. Got a great deal on a place next to the beach thanks to California’s real estate slump.”
Don threw his head back. “Listen to Machiavelli over here! Homeowners—me included—have lost millions in property values since 1989. Foreclosures force children into the streets. But Patrick’s happy. He gets a cheap apartment on the beach in beautiful downtown Oceanside.”
“I can’t remember when I laughed this hard. There was that time when Chris Ashburn tried to pick up this twenty-year-old. Watching him get shot down was fucking hilarious.” Patrick ran his fingers through Don’s dark, curly chest hairs. “I like the way you groom this. Just right.” He leaned in for another kiss. “Then I started looking for a car.”
“Not a ‘lieutenant-mobile’, I hope.”
“Of course. A shiny new sports car is a rite of passage. I’ve earned it—and I’m doing it the right way and not going in debt. My dad’s buying it for me as a present for getting my wings.”
“That’s awesome. Glad you gotta dad like that. Wanna know the only thing my dad ever bought me?” Patrick nodded. “When I turned twelve, he bought me a six-pack.”
“I assume it wasn’t a six-pack of root beer? God, Don, again, I’m sorry—”
“Who’s complainin’? I enjoyed the six-pack,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “At seventeen I enlisted. Corps’s turned out to be the best dad in the world.”
Patrick became sullen. “What’s always on my mind, though, is that my dad would disown me—if he knew—like, if he knew I was on this bed—with you right now.”
“So would my dad.”
“Really? Your dad’s like that—?”
“I’m not talking about ‘Dad the Drunk.’ He wouldn’t give a crap if I fucked sheep. ‘Dad the Marine Corps.’” He gently stroked Patrick’s cheek with his hand. “There’s some things we can never tell our dads.” He paused. “Thought we agreed no downers.”
Patrick rolled on top of Don. “Agreed.” He propped his elbows on Don’s shoulders and put his head in his hands. “After I looked at a few cars I didn’t like, finally I could call you.”
“Thank God. I sat by the phone like a sixteen-year-old girl, waitin’ for some guy to ask her to the prom. I was so excited. After we hung up, I called Eddie.”
“What’d he say? That we just met last night and don’t fall too fast? That you need to slow down and be careful? Don’t get hurt?” Patrick rolled off Don and lay beside him on the bed. “Best friends give the best advice. Wonder why we never take it.”
“He wasn’t there so I left a message on his machine.” Don fished in his pocket for his pager. Looking at the device, he said, “Strange. Eddie never waits this long to return a call.”
“He seems like a good guy.”
“He’s the best. Helped me through some stormy times, especially after we met. Not too long ago I helped him—as best I could—through the worst thing imaginable.” Don returned the pager to his pocket. “But all that’s ancient history.” He slid his finger down the center of Patrick’s chest. “Bet he worked around his house all day. Took the pooch to the park, the usual Sunday routine when football’s not on.” Don sat up. “Permission to take my shoes off, sir.”
“Granted.” Patrick removed his as well.
Grabbing Patrick firmly by the shoulders, Don rolled him on his back and straddled his torso. “Back to us. Where were we?”
“Don, um, I got a confession.” Patrick feigned guilt.
“What? I’ve known you less than twenty-four hours and you got something to confess?” He grabbed Patrick’s nipples and gave them a little squeeze.
“When I got back to my hotel room last night—” He paused.
“Yes?” Don pinched Patrick’s nipples harder.
“I thought about you.”
Don let go of Patrick and rolled over beside him. “And I thought about you.”
Patrick gave Don a mischievous-looking half-smile that brought back a flood of wonderful memories. “I thought about you—while I beat off.”
“Then we’ve got a lot in common, sir.”
“You think about yourself while you beat off?” Patrick laughed.
“No, silly boy.” Don rubbed his knuckles across Patrick’s head. “I mean, no, smart-ass lieutenant!” The two men engaged in a bout of wrestling-as-foreplay for a few minutes when Don thought of something he should’ve realized from the beginning.
“What’s—is something wrong?”