Page 38 of Something Like Winter

Tim must have looked just as bad. He could feel paint crusted on his mouth where Ben had kissed him. Hopefully it was non-toxic. He imagined the newspaper story, complete with a color photo of their bodies lying next to each other, their mouths stained with the same green hue.Paint Fetish Kills Gay Couple!

Tim grabbed a beer for himself and a Coke for Ben, but the war paint had weirded him out. “Come on, Benjamin. It’s time for your bath.”

As romantic as a candlelit bath sounded, the tub was barely big enough for them both, and Tim would have a hard time doing half the things he wanted to. So he turned on the shower and let the water get hot while he undressed his boyfriend. Ben was wearing a tangerine dress shirt Tim had never seen before, probably bought for this occasion. He slowly undid each of the buttons, adoring how Ben had trouble meeting his gaze at times like these. Crazy, considering everything they had done together. As wildly brave as Ben could be, he still had a bashful side, and it came out every time Tim touched him.

Tim wasn’t so ceremonial with his own clothes. As soon as Ben was nude, he tore off his clothing so they could get in the shower. Ben was under the water first, holding his head up to the stream, green water swirling around his feet. Then he switched places with Tim. When they were both warm and wet, Tim grabbed the shampoo and squirted some into his hands.

“Come here.”

“Oh, no!” Ben replied. “I’m not falling for that again.”

“I’m just going to wash you.” For some reason, Tim found the idea erotic. After a couple more suspicious looks, Ben came close. Tim met him halfway, letting their bodies press together as he worked shampoo into Ben’s hair. They both laughed at the process, but it turned Tim on like crazy. He went for the liquid body soap next, letting his sudsy hands rub all over Ben’s body, running them into every nook and cranny.

“Now I’ll wash you,” Ben said. He hadn’t rinsed off yet. Instead he grabbed Tim and pulled him into a hug, the soap acting as lube, Ben’s thin body squirming against his muscles.

“Way better than a loofah sponge,” Tim said, leaning back to squirt more soap between them.

Ben’s hand found their cocks, squeezing them together before he started pumping. Tim went for those lips he was so crazy about, but after a few kisses Ben turned around, having something else in mind. That was another first that had happened during Christmas, and they didn’t do it often, but Tim would never turn down the offer.

He grabbed the real lube, a small bottle he kept hidden behind the cluster of shampoos and conditioners. Ben was already going wild, grinding his butt against Tim’s crotch. Only when Tim moved away to apply the lube were they both more cautious.

Tim let his fingers explore first, whispering into Ben’s ear occasionally. “You okay? Does that feel good?” All he got was nods and moans in response, so Tim added more lube to his dick before he pushed inside a little bit.

This killed him every time, just as much as Ben’s songs did. There was something so undeniably emotional about the act, so bonding, that it was a miracle he hadn’t already let loose those three magic words. Tim could say them without lying, if he really wanted to. If they woke up tomorrow to find the rest of the world obliterated, Tim imagined it’s all he would say.

“Harder,” Ben hissed.

That was new! Tim wrapped his arms around Ben’s torso, hugging him tight as he pumped faster. He chewed on Ben’s earlobe, then rested his head against Ben’s neck like they were spooning, but of course they were doing much more. Tim was ready—had been for the last five minutes—but he held back, monitoring how tense his boyfriend’s body was. When Ben’s breathing quickened, Tim held back no more, his timing perfect. They came in unison, but Tim didn’t let go of Ben until their fingers and toes were wrinkled like prunes.

“Next weekend,” Tim said while they were toweling off.

Ben was getting the water out of his ears like he couldn’t hear, but said, “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll ask my mom to makechile rellenos. She always makes too many. You show up spontaneously, and I’ll ask if you can stay. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Ben smiled. “You won’t be sorry.”

Looking into those sweet cocoa-brown eyes, Tim couldn’t help believing him.

* * * * *

The smell of battered peppers frying in canola oil filled the house, making Tim’s stomach grumble. Or maybe it was churning because of nerves. He paced the front room, wondering what was taking Ben so long. Dinner was going to be served any second, and if he didn’t get here —

The doorbell rang, Tim sprinting to answer it. Ben looked good. Almost too good. They were supposed to be catching a movie, or so the story went, with Ben showing up a little early. But the dress shirt he wore, while smoking hot, seemed too dressy for two guys catching a flick together. Two straight guys, anyway.

“Get inside!” Tim hissed.

“And hello to you too,” Ben said.

“Just stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Tim dashed to the kitchen. His mom was singing in Spanish while poking at the peppers in the frying pan, occasionally turning or moving them to a dish lined with paper towels.

“Hey, Mom,” Tim said, coming up beside her. “Smells good!”

Ella smiled and kept singing. She always got like this when preparing Mexican food, the sights and smells whisking her back home again. Maybe that’s why she always made too many.

“You know that friend I’m going to the movies with? Well, he showed up early and hasn’t eaten.”