A Forest of Corpses (12 page)

It took us another twenty minutes to find the pool, a collection of water ranging from a few inches to several feet deep. It only took another five to get down to our skivvies and plunge in to the icy bath. I shuddered and braced myself to duck my head under, holding it for the count of ten, then lunged to the surface and shook myself like a dog. Alex did the same, gasping for breath when he came back out of the water. We ended up sitting side by side on a large boulder at the head of the pool, dangling bare feet in the water. Sun 109

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reached us through breaks in the leafy canopy. A faint breeze danced over our bare skin, cool at first, then as we dried it grew pleasantly warm. Across the pool a scattering of rushes and cattails swayed in the soft, gentle wind. A frog croaked and dragonflies buzzed the smooth surface in search of lunch.

Alex lay back on the rock, hands laced behind his head. His eyes were half closed.

I rolled onto my elbow to stare down at his sculptured chest with its dark, jutting nipples. When he lay on his back, the extra flesh around his middle was less obvious. I stared at his navel, and the line of hair there. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one else was around, I followed the swirl of reddish hair covering his chest with two fingers and arrowed down to disappear under the waistband of his jockeys.

Knowing what was under there in no way dampened my desire to see it again. I swallowed against the sudden rush of desire.

He grabbed my hand before I could go any further.

"No hanky-panky, remember?"

"This isn't hanky-panky," I murmured, lightly stroking the outline of his swelling cock with the hand he still held. "This is." I leaned over and pressed my mouth against his pubic bone where a pulse beat and quickened under my lips. I licked his water-cooled skin before straightening. "See the difference?"

The swollen head of his erection poked out of his underwear. A single drop of fluid leaked from the slit. Before I could take it any further and damn the consequences, he scrambled to his feet and without warning, cannonballed into 110

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the deepest part of the pool. A geyser of ice cold water erupted, covering my newly dried, and sun-warmed skin.

"Cool your jets, mountain boy," he said when he returned to the surface.

I wiped water out of my eyes and squinted through a prism of water droplets at him. Rainbow drops of water sculptured his body. God, he looked good. I don't care that he thought he was getting soft. I didn't care that he didn't look like a swimsuit model or that he thought he had to wear his shirts untucked to hide his growing love handles. I just wished I could prove that to him.

Well, maybe this week, away from the distractions of home and work, would give me a chance to convince him. We weren't going to have any other diversions but each other.

Things were still so tentative between us. I always sensed Alex held back, afraid he would lose control again like he had in the beginning, when his jealousy had boiled over into violence that he still hadn't forgiven himself for. It didn't seem to do any good to tell him I wasn't afraid of him, that I craved his touch, even his pain. He gave me some of both, but in the end, always held back from giving me all of what I needed.

I hated that. I wanted the Alex I had fallen in love with back, unafraid, sure of what he did and knowing it was the right thing. The Alex who never had to second guess his actions.

But how the hell did I convince him of that?

* * * *

A Forest of Corpses

by P. A. Brown

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Jason had no idea how much I wanted to drag him into the water with me and fuck him hard and rough, screw anybody who might stop us. But I held back. Like I held back a lot these days. I wanted to release the fever that burned in me whenever Jason hung from my sling or my leather restraints, but when I thought of reaching for the lash or the strap or the candle, a spark of fear flared in me. What if I couldn't stop, like had almost happened that day so long ago when I had beat him black and blue, and all for something he hadn't even done. I had discovered that day I was capable of stupid things, at least when it came to this man. Things I never wanted to visit on him or me again.

I knew he wanted my lash, just as he craved the pain of my domination, and I gave it to him, to a point. It was that point that was driving a wedge between us. I knew it. Jason knew it. Could we fix it? I knew I wanted to. But the fear was still there, untapped and unexplored. Unacknowledged in most cases, since I refused to admit the weakness of fear to anyone, even Jason.

Wading through the frigid water, I scrambled up on the rocks and grabbed my clothes. Jason followed. He pulled the bug repellent out and slathered more on both of us. We were silent as we dressed and hefted our packs onto our backs. I shoved my Tilley over my still wet hair, grabbed my walking sticks and headed, first along the banks of the fast moving stream, then climbing back up to the forest floor. We paused 113

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frequently while Jason scanned the trees for something he saw or heard. He would point out and name a bird, and I would try to catch a glimpse of it. Even when he passed me his binoculars, I never had much luck. All I could see was a richness of green, in every shade. I couldn't tell one tree from the next. All the green clustered around the trunks and covering the ground looked the same. Occasionally, a flash of color would blur across my field of vision, but never long enough for me to really see it.

Jason would give me a name—yellow warbler, house wren, plain titmouse, which made me wonder, were there fancy titmouse—or was it titmice? And what kind of name was titmouse, anyway? None of it was familiar. Where were the gulls or the pigeons or even the black birds that were ubiquitous in the city? Instead of becoming more familiar with time, everything grew more and more alien to my city trained eyes. Even in Kansas City I'd stayed inside the urban zone until my ill-advised marriage led us to California. My wife, Barbara, had never been an outdoor girl either. So even then we had rarely gone beyond the city limits, unless it was a trip to L.A. where she could shop and have dinner out somewhere down on Melrose, or someplace else trendy that she heard about in
L.A. Weekly
. "In civilization," as she'd often said.

I pretended enthusiasm for what Jason loved, hell I pretended to see what he was pointing out. My eyes just didn't work like his. But it was fun to listen to him chatter away, even if I didn't understand half of what he said. Jason had been a shy, very unsure, undisciplined sub when I'd first 114

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met him. He had blossomed since then, taken control of his life, even as he handed control of his body over to me.

When he stopped talking and moving I almost plowed into him. I had to grab his hips to keep from knocking both of us over, losing one of my walking sticks. He barely noticed. He had his glasses to his face, staring intently into the area above us. I tried to see what he was seeing. I might have seen a flicker of movement but that was all.

Finally he lowered his binoculars. He glanced back at me, his face aglow.

"A Northern Parula. I've never seen one before."

"One for the life list, then." I knew all about the life list he'd been building for years. A list of every bird he'd ever seen. I guess birders got pretty excited over those things.

Personally I couldn't see the attraction, but I didn't need to. It was enough that it made Jason happy and lit up like it did.

The discovery seemed to give him renewed energy. He scrambled to the top of the ravine leading us through the trees over what he said were trails, though I couldn't always see them. All through the trees we heard jays screaming.

They had to be one of the most vocal birds I've ever heard.

Bad tempered too, it turned out.

Memories of our cool dip faded as the strain on my overworked muscles grew. Even with the walking sticks I was losing my balance more often on the uneven ground. Finally I called for a break. I leaned the sticks against a massive oak trunk. Gulping down mouthfuls of cool water, I wiped the sweat off my brow and began doing stretches to loosen up my muscles, knowing our hike wasn't over.

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I barely saw a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I've got fast reflexes—to be a living cop in a city like Santa Barbara you have to—and I ducked and looked for what was attacking me, damning myself for not carrying. For being out here unarmed. The shadow came back, screaming, and I barely had time to recognize the jay before I had to duck again. Cursing, I grabbed my walking stick and swung it through the air. This time instead of attacking me the damn bird landed on a branch above my head and scolded me.

It didn't help that Jason was bent over, barely holding in his mirth.

"What?" I growled, not sure who I was maddest at, him or the bird. It seemed like they were both having a good laugh at my expense.

"She must think you're getting too close to her nest."

"Well I have no interest in eating her or her fucking eggs—

" The bird dove at my head again. "But if it's going to bother her that much, I'll leave."

I don't back down from punks or tweakers or armed psychos, but I found myself retreating through a leafy forest while a three-ounce bird screamed at me. I'm convinced the damn thing was laughing at me the whole time. I know Jason was.

Finally, we left the bird behind and Jason stopped giggling.

He sidled over to me.

"We should think of finding a place to pitch camp. I'd like to make a fire tonight. I've got Mexican rice with beef, or Thai satay. Your pleasure."

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"My pleasure would be to cook up that fucking bird and chew on her bones."

"I thought you didn't want to eat her or her family."

"I changed my mind."

That set him off again. After a while I had to join him. It was damned funny, when I thought about it. He was still smiling when we set off. An hour later we finally found a spigot of fresh water and a spot hidden by a cluster of trees that Jason said would suit us. I was a little more help this time. The tent was up, our supplies looted and a fire started in the firepit in short order. Jason explained that there was currently no drought, so fires were okay. "But then," he added, "if it wasn't, we wouldn't be here. Too dangerous to be up here during a fire season."

Far off, a dog barked. I thought of the unleashed Shepherd we had seen and figured the trio of young people were nearby. Hopefully not too near. I really didn't want this night to be interrupted. I filled the two lightweight pots we had carried with us while Jason set up the grill. I had been amazed at the amount of stuff we were able to fit in our backpacks. Enough for hot meals, if you didn't mind freeze-dried, which turned out not to be as bad as I thought it would be. Even with limited gear and ingredients, Jason produced a meal that filled me up and left me full and sleepy. I found a comfortable spot on a broad tree stump where I could lean back against a fallen tree and stare into the fire that Jason built up once the grill was cleaned and put away.

Normally, our evenings at home were spent in front of the TV watching one of my classic movies or, on the rare 117

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occasion, something newer that Jason ordered from Netflix. I used to control what we watched all the time, but since his taste had matured I let him pick a movie—sometimes.

Once the fire was going he came over and sat on the ground between my legs. I rested my hands on his shoulders, every so often squeezing them, massaging his collarbone and neck with my thumbs and fingers. The fire was mesmerizing.

There were a couple of patches of sky visible through the canopy overhead, mercifully free of birds or other impertinent animals. Jason's head tilted back. He stared avidly up. Every so often his gaze would wander my way; he always found me watching him instead of the stars.

"This is nice, isn't it?"

"Mmm," I murmured, not really wanting to break the silence and talk.

Nearby, an owl hooted, a solemn, eerie question thrown into the darkness. No one answered.

Jason tilted his head sideways rubbing his cheek against my thigh. I stroked his ear, tracing the outline of it, then slid around to cup his chin. He turned his head abruptly and took my thumb into his mouth, sucking on it gently. I closed my eyes at the rush of desire his simple touch could evoke in me.

Sometimes the depth of feelings I had for this man scared me beyond measure. It would be so easy to lose myself in him. I'd never surrendered myself to another person that way, or any way. This was serious. This was something forever. I think that made me more nervous than anything that had come before this. It made me wonder how easy it would be to walk away and spare myself future loss of 118

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control. What you can't control, you can't own. How much safer it would be to reclaim myself by giving him up.

Not going to happen. The thought was fierce and cold. He must have sensed something because he drew away from me, turning all the way around to look up at me. His eyes were clear and guileless.

"Alex?"

"Nothing." I urged him to sit back, returned to stroking his soft skin, feeling the rasp of day old beard on his chin, knowing I would feel the same. Without another word I bent over and touched my lips to his. I flicked my tongue out to taste him. He tasted of wood smoke and coffee and Jason.

Part of me wanted to drag him into the tent, fuck him roughly and silently to erase the thoughts in my head. I didn't move. Instead I kept circling his chin and throat with my fingers, lingering on his mouth occasionally, feeling him suck one digit or another. The forest filled with the sounds of night.