Alone No More

From: Queer Click

I was staring out at the wide expanse of the Cascade Mountains as I piloted over them. I worked for one of the airlines, based in Seattle. I usually flew small, 70-seat commuter aircraft, but was certified to fly all the way up to a 737. I had spent almost every waking moment from the time I was 12 learning how to fly. I loved the freedom and thrill of soaring through the air. I’m one of the few people who didn’t have to enter the military to get a commercial pilot’s license.


But, with the horrid slump that the airline industry was currently in, we had all agreed to trim back our hours by just five a week in order to avoid layoffs. At twenty-six, I was one of the youngest pilots in the fleet, but I had enough seniority to avoid losing my job. But I agreed with my fellow pilots and would rather use up some vacation time to avoid anybody losing their job. So instead of being off three days out of every week, I was off four. I hate being idle; I can’t sit back and do nothing. So I here I am, piloting a buddy of mine’s DC-3, doing cargo runs to Wenatchee from Seattle.
It was close to noon and the middle of October. The air was crystal clear. I could see Spokane to the east and Vancouver to the north and the majesty of Mount Baker and Rainier to either side of me. This is why I love flying. I dropped into Wenatchee and waited the two hours for the cargo to be unloaded and the plane to be refueled. Then I was off again. It was a simple, forty minute flight over the mountains and down into Seattle. I reached cruising at fifteen thousand feet and radioed my position. I hit my vector and set off over the mountains. Shortly after, the right engine shuddered. Smoke started billowing off the wing. Then the whole plane took an electrical shock, probably static build up. I lost all electrical systems and the radio. Then I heard the right engine stall and stop. Followed quickly by the left shuddering, then stopping. Then silence.
Adrenaline pumped through me. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. I saw black spots before my eyes. Then my training took over and calm overcame me. I still had hydraulic control of the flaps and rudder. I didn’t want to play them too much. With electric down, I couldn’t restart the engines. I was dead in the water and skimming on the air currents over the mountains. I had two choices, going back and hope to go down somewhere clear, but the forests and cliffs made it unlikely. Or I could continue, hoping to find a valley to set down in. The choice was soon taken out of my hands. I was going down about 1000 feet a minute. I wasn’t going to be able to stay afloat much longer. Then the perfect valley appeared before me. It was long and relatively flat, clear enough to put the plane down. Too bad my aim sucks. The controls were getting heavy, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to hang on. Then the belly skimmed over some tall cedars. I was scant feet off the ground, coming in too fast. Then the belly hit snow. I was thrown against my restraints, feeling myself bruise. The wing caught on a hidden rock and the whole thing turned sharply, rolling over and all went black in a cacophony of screaming metal and heat and pain.
I awoke some time later. I was hanging upside down in my seat, strapped in to the chair. There was blood dripping on my face; obviously I was bleeding from somewhere. I had spent too much time hanging upside down; my head was killing me. I reached up to unbuckle myself. It gave way with a loud click and I fell to the roof. I hobbled out of the plane, aware of the smell of gas. I made it to the door and crawled out into the blinding snow. I pulled myself out into the shelter of the trees. Then I spent some time assessing what I could of the damage to my body. I couldn’t tell how long I had been unconscious. But except for some bruising from the straps on my chair, a headache that may or may not be a concussion, and a gash in my left leg, I was relatively sound. That was where the blood was coming from. I unbuckled my belt, quickly pulling it through the loops and tying a tourniquet around my leg at the knee. I was wearing boots, with heavy socks, jeans, my black silk boxers, a t-shirt and a heavy Irish woolen sweater. I had a jacket in the plane and a first aid kit. Now was the hard part: could I put weight on the leg. I used a nearby rock to help me stand, keeping my weight on my right leg. Then I tried to put a little force on the left. I buckled and almost fell. I wasn’t going to be able to walk on it. I searched around me and found a piece of debris, a girder from the wing. I picked it up and used it as a make do crutch. I got into the plane, got my coat and first aid kit and hobbled back out. I didn’t think anything would set off the gas fumes, but it was too much, too thick to stay inside.
When I got back out and sat on the rock, I took stock of what was in the first aid kit. Not a lot. Not a thing to stitch up my leg with; nothing to help with the gash. It looked angry and red but wasn’t bleeding too heavily. I lay back on my coat on the ground with my leg propped on the rock. Thankfully I had the flares and had a clear view of the sky. I only hoped that if someone were going to search for me, it would be before the sun set. Heavy clouds were moving in from the west. More snow.
I sat in the snow for a while, conserving energy, doing arm rolls to keep my circulation going, trying to stay warm. Then I heard a crunching in the snow. I prayed it wasn’t an animal. But luck had never been kind to me. The sounds got closer and closer. I turned my head towards the sound and was surprised to see a man. He was tall, very tall, so much more than my six feet. He looked like he badly needed to shave and had probably not had a haircut in months if not years. He walked up to me and knelt by my head. He took a look at my leg before scowling at me. He muttered something under his breath. His voice was gravelly, gruff, deep but kind. Then helped me to stand before slinging me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I sputtered in surprise. He didn’t speak, although I asked him many questions. I thought maybe he was deaf.
For all his unkempt appearance, his clothes smelled fresh. I didn’t smell sweat or smoke or any other unpleasant odors: just clean, fresh clothes, soap and man. It had been a long time since I had been with anyone and the upside down view of his ass reminded me. He walked tirelessly for at least an hour. The entire time he didn’t say one word. Then we turned a corner at the end of the valley into a smaller clearing. There was a waterfall that poured down over the rocks into a small pool before leaving in a stream away from where we walked. Beyond the stream was a cabin, nestled slightly under an outcropping of rock. There was at least two feet of snow on the ground, but the pool of water was steaming, even with the ice-cold waterfall. The silent giant carried me to the cabin, opening the door and carrying me to a bed in the corner. It was a large bed, bigger than my king-size at home. He set me down gently and then turned away to what looked like a kitchen. He came back with a bowl of steaming water, some strips of fabric, a needle and scissors. He pulled out a bottle of liquor from his coat pocket and handed it to me before turning and hanging his coat on a hook.
When he turned back, he unlaced then pulled off my boots, gently avoiding tugging my leg too badly. Then he pulled off my wet sweater. When he found that my t-shirt was soaked, he pulled that off as well. Then he took the bottle from me, unscrewed the top and told me in a gravelly voice to drink until he told me to stop. I hate bourbon; actually, I hardly ever drink. But I followed his directions while he gently removed both socks and jeans. He soaked the leg around the wound with a little hot water to loosen where it might have stuck with blood. Then he slipped off my boxers because they were soaked with blood. The mystery giant started washing my leg with a rag soaked in the hot water. I was still sipping the bourbon, forcing the liquid down my throat. I felt heat spread out from my stomach. He looked up when I giggled and took the bottle from me. I watched lazily as he threaded the needle. I even watched as he poured some of the bourbon on my leg. I hissed at the sting, but I wasn’t feeling a whole lot at the moment. Then he started stitching me up. He worked quickly and competently, not taking too much time. I tried not to cry out or flinch. Eventually, my vision swirled and I blacked out.
I awoke under heavy blankets, lying on soft sheets and pillowed, both body and head, by soft, warm down. I don’t know how long I was out, could have been days. But I noticed it was dark, the only light coming from the fire. My giant, funny how that was how I thought of him, was sitting by the fire in a large chair with a book in his hands. I must have made a noise when I moved my legs, trying to get more comfortable. He stood and came over to me. He sat by the bed and handed me a glass with water in it and two aspirin. He told me it was for the pain and fever. I looked up at his eyes then, the hint of fever scaring me. But they were warm and calm, the richest brown I had ever seen. There was compassion in his eyes but there was also a bone-deep sadness that made my breath hitch. But the sadness wasn’t related to me, the compassion was. I wondered what had made him so sad. Then he got up and brought back something in a bowl that smelled heavenly. It was simple broth, but it was enough. I sat and fed myself until I felt sleepy. He took the bowl from me and I snuggled down in the bed. We didn’t talk, didn’t even come close, but it was a comfortable silence. Slowly my eyes drifted closed.
I slept on and off for the next two days. When it was light out, I noticed it was snowing and pretty heavily outside the window. Any search for me was not happening until the storm cleared. I was content to lie in the bed and heal. I did become feverish and my giant took care of me. He wiped my brow and fed me aspirin to bring down the fever. He moved silently and gracefully for someone so tall. I would say he was at least six-nine and probably would tip the scales at 300 pounds. But he wasn’t fat; he was muscular and powerful. With his coat off, he wore red thermal long underwear and it clung to him. He was strong and hulking under the soft cotton. Dark hair showed at the collar and through the buttons that trailed down to his crotch. He wore thick socks that covered his feet and the leg holes, but I bet he was hairy from collar to toes. He never said much, a few words at most. But I found out his name was Grey. He was thirty and had lived on the mountain for the past seven years. This wasn’t one conversation that I got this out of him; it took all of two days of coaxing to get that much information. He was quiet and private but no matter how much time passed, his eyes were still sad.
I woke up on the third day and saw sunshine pouring through the window onto my feet under the blanket. Grey was nowhere to be found. I took a chance and put my feet on the floor and stood. My left leg was sore, but I could put pressure on it. I hobbled to the door after wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. I opened the door and looked out at the steaming pool. At least three feet of snow had fallen. A rescue was going to be difficult at best. But at least the sun was shining. Then I heard a sound off to my right. I turned and forgot to breath when I beheld the sight before me.
Grey stood with his back to me, with his feet braced apart by the width of his shoulders. He was naked. He stood facing the pond and I watched the muscles in his body. His skin was dark, tan from the sun and from his ancestors. I saw the strength of his calves, covered thickly in dark hair, then his thighs and the cheeks of his ass. Each was pinched and dimpled from his stance, there was a light dusting of dark hair and a patch above them at the base of his spine. His back was immense and so strong. He could have posed for an anatomy book let alone pin-up calendars. Alone, he didn’t look so tall; he was so perfectly proportioned. I saw his shoulders, big, thick, rounded like bowling balls. His neck was strong beneath the shaggy hair. Then I noticed that his arms were moving, bunching muscles on his biceps dusted with more dark hair were in motion, rhythmically. He was masturbating. I felt myself thicken, plumping under the soft blanket around me.
I watched Grey move, pleasuring himself. I stood there, watching him for a few moments before I noticed something hanging between his legs. It was black. It looked like underwear. My underwear. I got even harder. He was rubbing himself in the silk of my boxer shorts. I didn’t mind. He had saved my life. Hell, I bought the underwear and like wearing it because of how it rubbed against me. All it took was a brief walk and an impure thought and I had a raging erection. I figured that if he wanted to use my underwear to get himself off, it was the least I could do. Then I noticed Grey start to move faster. He brought his other hand forward and threw my underwear over his shoulder. His hips started jerking and his arm stopped moving so smoothly. Haltingly he breathed, throwing his head back and grunting in release. His hand came up to his mouth and he tasted himself. I could have shot right there. Then Grey lowered his head, almost like he was defeated and gave a sigh. I’ve never heard anything like it. It was as if his heart was broken. It was lonely and sad as well as soul rendering. My heart broke for him and my erection quickly disappeared. I stepped back through the door and shut it. My voyeuristic foray done. I hopped back in bed and waited for Grey to return.
A few hours later, Grey did come into the cabin. He had all of my clothes and they were wet. He laid them in front of the fire to dry. He had washed my clothes. I felt my heart thicken in my chest. I watched as Grey moved around, preparing a meal. He had put back on his thermal underwear and jeans. I watched his simple motions, how graceful he moved for having hands that could so easily crush. He was a contradiction. If you didn’t look in his eyes, he looked like a thug, a warrior, dangerous in all ways. But once you looked in his eyes, he was kind and gentle, a dancer or swimmer and no danger to anyone or anything. I got out of bed and headed towards him. I wanted to offer some comfort. He still looked so damn sad. But I never got the chance. He handed me another pair of his thermal underwear to wear. The legs and sleeves were too long, but I was covered. We sat down and had a silent dinner.
Later, after a few more words, I got up and grabbed a few items. I had Grey sit in the chair by the fire. I took the large bowl full of water and the razor and soap as well as the scissors. I wetted down his hair and started to trim it. After about an hour of snipping, Grey had a shorter hairstyle. Okay so there was no style, but it was shorter with no noticeable gaps. Then I trimmed up his beard and soaped up the rest of his face before I started shaving him. When I was all done, wiping off the last of his beard, I saw him for the first time. He was a really handsome man. His nose was straight and his lips full. His chin was strong and he had what looked like dimples. All he needed was to smile. The easiest way to get someone to smile is smile first. All he did was grab my hand and ask why I did what I did. I had no easy answer. When I still didn’t answer him, he looked away and said that I should probably sleep. I was tired so I went to bed.
I woke a few hours later. Grey lay by me on the bed, thrashing and whimpering. I went to reach out to him but I never made it. He sat up screaming. I touched his arm, but he whipped away from me, stomping over to the fireplace. He rested an elbow on the mantel and his forehead in his palm. He was shaking. I got out of bed and headed towards him. He looked up. He was terrified. He was also fighting tears. He looked away from me and I saw him loose the fight. I watched as his chest heaved with sobs that he tried to keep quiet. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around what I could. I pulled his head to me and cupped his cheeks. Tears were streaming out of his closed eyes. I brushed the tears away and hugged him tighter. All at once, with an audible sob, Grey grabbed me and hugged me to him. He buried his face in my shoulder and held on as the sobs took him over. I kept stroking his hair, smoothing my hand up and down his strong back. After a few minutes, the heaving slowed then stopped. My shirtfront was soaked. Grey pulled away as if embarrassed. He pushed me away gently then walked away to the door. He stepped into his boots and grabbed his coat. Then he was gone into the night.
I didn’t follow. My leg wouldn’t support it and I wouldn’t know where to look. With how dark it was, he could stand just five feet away and I wouldn’t see him. So I hobbled back over to the bed and waited. I fell asleep waiting. With the gray light of morning, streaming in my face, I realized that Grey hadn’t come back to bed. I didn’t know where he was. But I was afraid to look outside. Once with and once without his knowledge I had invaded his fiercely guarded privacy. I didn’t want to again unless invited. I got up and went to the door, intending only to peek then shut the door. But he wasn’t standing just outside. I searched the horizon, at least what I could see of it. He wasn’t around. I stepped outside, intending to search for him when I heard him call out to me. Just my name: Seth. I turned to find him in the pool. Steam rose around him and his skin was rosy. There were snowflakes dusting in his eyelashes and in his newly shorn hair. They also dusted the dark mat of hair covering his chest. It wasn’t supposed to be an erotic sight. But it was; very much so.
He called to me again by name. I loved the sound of his gravelly voice calling out to me. I walked the ten steps to the edge of the pool where I found his clothes in a pile. He motioned me into the water. He told me it would help with my leg. I shucked the borrowed thermal suit and walked into the water. It was warmer, but not uncomfortably so, than a hot tub. It bubbled at my feet slightly. I immediately relaxed. Near where Grey sat, there was a shelf of rocks. He had me sit by him. We didn’t talk, but let the warm water sooth. I was still pretty bruised, not permanently injured, but it was in a really ugly recovery stage. It was pleasant. It was mellow. The snow falling was hypnotic. It rested on the water for a split second before disappearing. Then of course there was the snow that caught on Grey. It sprinkled the hair on his chest and I caught myself a couple of times, staring.
Grey looked at me too. But he was assessing my bruises. He apologized for not having any leeches in the water so it would clear up the bruises. I didn’t bring up last night, and neither did he. After a quiet hour in which I discovered a peace I had never known, he told me we should get out. I protested, but he assured me we could go back, but the water wasn’t healthy to sit in for too long. He got out first and donned his suit with his back to me. Maybe he did notice my checking him out. But red cotton underwear clings and clings even more when wet. He turned to give me a hand out and I saw how well the cotton clung to him. I almost sank down into the water for fear of sporting an erection. But I kept it under control and climbed out and donned my own outfit. I wasn’t ashamed of my reaction, but I was afraid of adding to Grey’s troubles.
We talked a little more that afternoon. I found out he had been in the Army and was a mechanic. I told him all about my dreams. I explained why I loved flying and even though my plane had crashed, it was due to faulty equipment, not my error. I wasn’t afraid to go back up. I couldn’t wait to fly again. He laughed for the first time. He did have dimples. His laugh was gruff, like he hadn’t done it in a long, long time. But it was still one of the nicest sounds I could remember. And for one second, the sadness left his eyes. He had been handsome before, but when he smiled, he became beautiful. Eventually, after another quiet soak in the pool, we went to bed. I slept soundly, now that I had done some moving, even a little swimming, my body wanted to rest. But I woke up to whimpering. Grey was thrashing in his sleep again. I reached over to him, hoping to calm him so he could go back to sleep. But my touch seemed to make it worse. I removed my hand and he cried out and sat up. Whatever demon he faced at night was eating away at him. I curled my arms around him while he was still disoriented and he clung to me. Our nine-inch height difference didn’t matter while lying by each other in bed. Then the sobs started. It was one of the most vulnerable moments and I watched him. He didn’t want to cry and he didn’t want me to see him. But he did need my comfort. He sobbed for a few minutes.
After he calmed, I asked him what he dreamt about. He stood up and I was sure he was going to walk out again. Instead he put a couple more logs on the fire and stoked the blaze so there was a little extra light in the room. He turned back to me; his thermal suit had the top three buttons undone. He sat by me on the bed and started talking.
“I was in the Army. I had enlisted because I had no clue what to do with my life. I had a girl at home and she promised to wait. It lasted for about three weeks then I got a Dear John letter. My mechanic skills were put to use and I served many tours. About six months before I got out, I was shipped to Bosnia. I was sent into the hills to work on some equipment at a sentinel post. There were a couple of families nearby in a cottage. They were refugees and had nowhere to go. So they stayed close to the soldiers, hoping to be left alone. I took some of my rations and a few extra things I could find to them. There were nine children and fifteen adults living in a space little bigger than this. They took me into their lives and invited me inside. I went every couple of days for a few months. Four days before I was set to leave and go home, so I could be discharged, I went to say goodbye. There were soldiers waiting. They tied me up.�
Somehow I knew what came next wouldn’t be pleasant. His voice was strained and he was keening and rocking as he sat.
“They killed all of them. Every last one of them died before me. I watched as each person died, trying hard to get loose and I succeeded once. I got a hold of one of the soldiers and slit his throat. Then they threatened to kill the baby. I knew they were going to kill her anyway. But …�
He had tears pouring down his face. I could tell that guilt had him in its grip. But he wasn’t to blame. He was trying to help. And I listened to his horrors when someone should have long ago. And I offered comfort, a touch, a gesture, a word, when he so desperately needed it.
“I gave in and let them tie me up again. Then they killed the rest of them. They put a knife on a table out of my reach. They told me that Americans shouldn’t be where they weren’t needed or wanted. Then they were gone. I inched through blood to the knife and untied my hands and legs. Then I cradled that little baby in my arms, willing it not to be too late. But she wouldn’t wake up.�
His breath was really ragged and he was sobbing around each word.
“I went outside and dug twenty-four graves. We had found so many mass burial sights. These simple people weren’t going to suffer that indignity. I dug for two days straight. The soil in Bosnia is very rocky. I had to cover them with rocks. But I buried all twenty-four of them. A patrol found me shortly after I covered the last body. They saw I was covered in blood and sent me to Germany to be looked over. I was out of the Army and free in a matter of days with nothing to do and nowhere to go. I came up here.�
He was crying so hard. I asked if he had the same nightmare each night and he nodded. I wanted so much to help. He had my compassion and my trust. He was a good man, despite what he might think. He also had my heart. I fell in love right then and there. I kissed him. He still sobbed when I pulled away so I kissed him again. He paused. So I kissed him again. When I pulled away he was looking at me with wonder and shock warring on his face. I kissed him again. He met my lips with some pressure of his own. I pulled away again. He shook his head. “Seth, I’m not gay. I don’t–“. I kissed him again. He met me harder this time. I pulled away; I wanted to see in his eyes. He kissed me. Our mouths met and he opened for my tongue. I rubbed it lightly against his bottom lip and then his teeth. Then I smoothed it over his tongue, touching, teasing, tasting.
I was hard and achy. I pushed Grey down on the bed and moved my hands to the buttons of his clothes. I made quick work of them. As each button was undone, I spread the sides and rubbed my hands along his hard muscles, warm skin, and soft hair. I lowered the warm garment off his shoulders so it pooled at his waist. I kept kissing him, moving my hands over his chest. He let me do everything. I skimmed down to his feet and pulled at his clothes until his thermal underwear was off. Then I saw all of him, gilded by the fire. Lots of soft, dark body hair and planes of hard muscle covered by warm, tanned skin. He was beautiful and for tonight, mine.
I unbuttoned my thermal underwear suit. I watched him watch the progress of my hands. As each button came undone, I revealed my body to him. I had always kept in shape; you need to be to be a pilot. I had a thick line of hair from the hollow of my throat to my cock. It only thickened in a small diamond over my sternum and around my navel. Other than that, I was bare; in no way as near as hairy as Grey. I removed the rest of my clothes to reveal my erection. Now this is my finest feature. I have always been proud of how long and thick it is. I looked at his lap, finally seeing him. He wasn’t hard. He was thick, so much thicker than I am and that is saying something. I reached out to hold him. Then I realized he was hard. He was thick. Probably had the thickest cock I had ever seen, but he was short. Maybe four inches at most, if that. But he was so hard. I rubbed my fingers over the tip and watched him shudder. I explored him with my fingers, finding out all of his secrets. He wasn’t as short as I thought. He was so hairy and it was so thick and bushy that it masked him. He was beautiful. I moved my mouth down to him and licked at his leaking, shiny tip. I kissed his head with big, open-mouthed kisses, tugging at his flare, tasting his slit, nibbling at the thick ridge below. He moaned. Then I opened wide and moved down on him. My tongue swirled around him as I bobbed up and down. He was so thick and my jaw ached. But I wanted that sad, haunted look to go away, at least for a little while. I felt his hands start to move over my hair, bunching it between his fingers. He didn’t grab me, but he caressed me. I could feel him tremble. He arched his back and his legs became restless. He kept trying to be quiet. I pulled off him to catch my breath. I looked up at his face. His eyes were heated, glossy with need. I told him to let go, to let me know what he was feeling. Then I dove back on him. I moved up and down his shaft, squeezing and swirling his head with my tongue, letting him scrape against the back of my throat. I felt him thicken and tense on my tongue. Then I heard the most wondrous sound. Grey bellowed out my name as I felt his first jet hit my throat. I spent the next few minutes, using my mouth to bring him down, prolonging the experience for him. I tasted him and felt him soften.
I moved up his long body, nipping with my teeth and lips as I rose to his mouth. Once there I kissed him hungrily, letting him taste himself on my lips. I was throbbing, but also content to just languidly kiss him. I kept my hand on his cock, squeezing or stroking every couple of minutes, allowing the sensitivity of his spent penis quake him with aftershocks of pleasure. But in no time he became hard in my hand again. I kissed Grey’s cheek then pushed him flat on his back before straddling his hips with my knees. I braced myself over him, willing myself to yield to his thick monster. I lowered in fits and starts on him. He was still wet and oozing and he slid right to my opening, pulsing, begging for entrance. It had been so long, since my first lover, since I had taken rather than given. But I wanted this for him. Tonight was about comfort and love, giving rather than taking. So I forced myself to relax and sank on his thick staff, imbedding myself into the springy, soft hair surrounding it. He was the exact right length to rest against my prostate. The moment his shaft rubbed against that delightful bundle of nerves, I felt my body milk out a drop of clear essence. It was thick and copious, actually propelling itself out of me only to be lost in the furry carpet of his belly. I had thought him small, too short for this, but he was perfect. And I was realizing perfect in more ways than sex. I rested on him, sitting on my haunches, waiting to accustom to his thickness. After a couple of moments, when his every heartbeat pulsed his thick tip against my trigger, I couldn’t stand it anymore and began to move. Lightly, gently I swirled my hips around him, not moving in the great strokes needed to bring a man to completion, but in that slight, infinitesimal motion that makes every nerve sensitive to the point of pain. I kept swirling on him, knowing I was grinding his cock’s head into near painful stimulation. I was torturing him with pleasure, but bringing myself to the brink. It wasn’t what he needed, but oh my, it was what I needed. Grey arched himself off the bed; he was resting on his heels and shoulders only. He bucked with me, trying to move harder, deeper, faster. He grabbed my hips and tried to force me away, knowing only a need to stroke, not grind. I kept calling out his name, locking my knees to his hips, refusing to give him what he needed. Then he decided to play dirty, he grabbed my cock and started fisting me. I was too close to tripping anyway and I spurt. I felt each spasm against his cock. I could feel my ring tighten and loosen on him rhythmically. He let go of me and bellowed out, but he didn’t cum. I stopped, too spent to continue.
Grey grabbed my hips and flipped us over. He took my knees, still locked against his hips and pushed out and forward, bringing my ass up and out. Then he plunged into me. I could take him deeper sitting on him, but he drove himself into me, grinding, sensing a need to reach inside and find what drove me before. He pummeled me with his hips, pulsing, grinding them together until he hit my trigger. My stupor left and I looked right in his eyes. He gave me a truly self-satisfied grin and started pounding in earnest. I should have been ripped to shreds, but he was leaked big time, I could feel it sliding down my back. I was still so hard, and he kept driving into me. But I knew it wouldn’t last, flames this bright burn out awfully fast. Almost in seconds, I felt him thicken and lengthen just a bit more, just enough to completely drive me over the edge again. I felt myself trip just as I felt him twitch with the first release of his orgasm. I was clinging to his shoulders, clawing at him. I have never found my release to be so all encompassing. The room fell away and there was only Grey and I writhing in completion. Within seconds, it was over, but the after affects lasted for a few minutes. Without even thinking, Grey rolled us to our sides, slipping out of me in the process. My head nestled on a pillow, but he was scooted further down in the bed. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his head to my chest with one arm and stroking his back with another. Slowly we drifted to sleep.
We slept that night without blankets, the fire more than warm enough. But it wasn’t the sleep of the exhausted. I was fully aware of each moment around me. I had my cheek pressed into the top of Grey’s head. My arm stroked his shoulders. I found myself pressing kisses to his hair just as he pressed them to my chest. It wasn’t a sound sleep, but a contented, safe, satisfying one in which both dreams and nightmares couldn’t intrude.
The snow stopped falling during the night, allowing the clouds to clear and moon to intrude.
Somehow I fell deeper asleep, content and sated. It was near dawn when I felt Grey push me flat on the bed. He was kissing and stroking my body. His hands and lips were everywhere at once. I was strumming with anticipation, vibrating with need and desire. I felt him move down my body, finding with his lips blindly what I most wanted him to touch. I felt him move over me, kissing and flicking with his tongue, the length and breadth of me. Small explosions went off behind my eyes. I was fully awake now, writhing beneath his ministrations. My fingers gripped the sheets, needing an anchor to reality. Then he took me in his mouth, shallowly, haltingly. While he moved on me, his big, gentle hands stroked my belly and chest down to my thighs and hips. His shoulders bracketed my thighs, keeping me on the bed while he bobbed on me. I felt myself build, tingling and sensitized. Oh god! This was wonderful. I try to last, I try to hold off on the end, but I couldn’t. He wasn’t an expert, not even an amateur, but it was too much, too good. I felt myself twinge and flex inside his mouth, filling him with my release, with my soul. Slowly my surroundings returned to me. I saw the rough-hewn ceiling and the shelves over the bed. Then I felt the bed beneath me as I trembled, quaking from the orgasm, overwhelmed with emotion.
I searched over my head, finding what I wanted. I pulled Grey by his shoulders up to face me, on his side. I kissed his lips, tasting his sweetness and myself on them. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me deeper. I raised my arm and snagged what I was looking for. I grabbed the silk of my underwear, searching and turning until I found a large panel of silk. I took my bounty and reached between us, the silk sending shivers up my spine as it grazed my belly. Then I grasped him. I kept a large pocket over the head and only grasped him with my fingers, letting the large tip of him be embraced by the soft fabric. I grasped him harder, squeezing as I pulsed over him. Grey called out and wrapped himself tighter around me, cradling my head against his chest. All that soft hair tickled my nose, but I loved being pressed so possessively against his chest, hearing each deep rumble of his pleasure rumble through the muscular wall beneath me. In no time, the silk did its job; he was trembling with release, taking my mouth, kissing me so deeply I couldn’t breath. Then all of a sudden he completely relaxed, shocking me because he was asleep. I chuckled in surprise and just stroked his hair, cradling him in my arms, his big body nestled against mine and I fell asleep too.
I awoke to the sun shining on my face. I was alone in the bed. But I smelled something heavenly: ham. Grey was cooking breakfast. I grabbed my jeans and my shirt, bypassing my stained shorts. I walked behind his back, cupping myself to him, molding my body to his curves. He grunted and pulled me around to face him and kissed me before depositing me in one of the chairs around the table. He served up a huge mound of food on my plate then sat across from me. He couldn’t hide his silly, almost goofy grin. But he wouldn’t meet my eyes except shyly. I wondered for a minute before it dawned on me. He had been alone for seven years, no company. I watched his face, willing him to look at me, to ease his discomfort. But the sadness was gone from his eyes at least. When he didn’t look at me I started to wonder if he had ever had a morning after. Had he ever looked at a lover across a table, eating a simple meal, sharing silly grins and flirtatious smiles? Somehow I doubted if his experience delved much deeper than his own hand. I meant to ask him so many things. I wanted to bring out his charm and wit. I knew it was there, hiding, buried behind guilt. Then the most wonderful and horrid thing happened. I heard the distant sound of a helicopter. The skies were clear and they were looking for me, for the plane.
Grey looked out the window; panic taking away that boyish grin. Then I knew that I would board that helicopter alone. He looked at me, directly in my eyes. Before I could even ask him to come he shook his head at me. Then I could see him ask me to stay with his eyes. Sadly, I shook my head no as well. He got up and went outside, searching for how far away the helicopter was. I took that opportunity to grab his book by the fire, the one he always seemed to read and I wrote something on a mostly blank page a few from his current stopping place. Then I pulled on my socks and boots. I folded up my underwear and was putting on my coat when he came back in. I walked up to him and kissed him hard; trying to give him everything I had in that one kiss. Then I gave him my underwear, begging him to understand my gesture. He blushed when he understood that I had seen him. Then I took my flare gun and flares and headed out the door and out of his sheltered valley. Knowing he needed to remain anonymous, I moved to some trees near the damaged plane. I saw the helicopter heading in my direction and fired a flare. I knew it had seen me and it was soon setting down in front of me. I got on board and was taken down the mountain to a hospital in Everett. My leg and head were X-rayed and I was given a referral for a plastic surgeon to repair my field dressing. But I decided to keep the scar as a reminder.
A few days later, the airline I worked for wanted me to go through some tests, to make sure I could handle flying again. I met with a psychiatrist at the airport and we got on the first available flight with two first class seats on it. We ended up flying to Tucson. They wanted to make sure I was comfortable. The flight was over in two hours and I didn't even flinch when we hit turbulence. So I was scheduled to go back in the rotation in four days. I drew for it and got the Seattle to Sacramento run. I would make two flights a day, round trip. Simple, easy and something I loved to do. But my life felt empty.
I had been back for almost two months when someone knocked on my door. I opened it to a giant of a man. He was dressed in jeans and boots with a black t-shirt with a leather jacket and sunglasses. He was so very, very tall. His dark hair was cut short and gelled into a great style. There was a goatee on his face and he smiled slightly at me. He looked anxious. Then he spoke. I knew that voice.
Aren't you going to invite me in?
Grey! I threw myself into his arms and pulled him into my house. I hardly recognized him. Then I was kissing him, lost in the need to confirm he existed in my door, my home. I pulled away from his lips and asked why he was here. Then he quoted from what I had written in his book: perfectly, exactly.
If you ever decide to come down from your valley, know that you have a safe place to lie your head and give your heart. But if you never leave, know that I leave my heart with you to hopefully keep your nightmares at bay. I give you my love freely and hope that one day you will come to me.
There were tears in his eyes as he spoke. I knew it had taken immense courage for him to leave his beloved home. But he trusted me enough to wake with his nightmares and love him back to sleep.
I read your words Seth, that afternoon. But I was afraid. But by the end of the week, I was aching and so sad I decided to join you. Then a storm came up and kept me in place for a few more weeks. I came as soon as I could.
I found myself leading him down halls, ripping clothes off the both of us until we arrived at my bed, both of us naked and hard and wanting. We spent the next two solid days in bed. We made love until we were both sore and raw from it. We laughed when it was over, thankful we were both numb. And then we were both hard again; groaning because it was ridiculous. So I grabbed him and we went and sat in my hot tub where we slowly stroked each other, looking into our eyes and kissing until our release joined the millions of bubbles in the water.
Grey got a job as a mechanic with a different airline at the airport. His nightmares still came from time to time, less each passing week. I simply loved him out of it or held him, when it was too much, and let him cry it out. About two months later, one of my coworkers’ wives was having a difficult pregnancy and he wanted to stay closer to home. I was next up on the rotation and agreed to take his Seattle to Washington run for a couple of days. The only problem is that it is an overnight trip. But, I had no choice. I had made it to Dulles with no problem and checked into my hotel room. But I had a hard time sleeping. It takes a few days getting used to someone in your bed and even longer getting used to sleeping without them. I did drift off though after a couple of hours. The phone ringing woke me up a few hours later. All I heard was my name spoken in a small, panicked voice.
Seth.
Baby, I'm here. What's wrong
Seth.
Tell me what's wrong!
I had it again.
Oh God! I wish I were there with you. Talk to me. I'm here, on the phone. I can hear you. Tell me.
Oh Seth, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called. You need your sleep. I'm sorry. I've got to go.
Don't hang up!
I've got to go. Sorry.
Then I had dial tone. My anxiety and guilt, pushed high because he sounded so alone, so sad, made me angry. I grabbed the phone and called him back. I got the machine. I know he was there, listening.
You had better pick up that phone. Don't you ever hang up on me again! I need to know you are all right. Damn it! If you don't pick up that phone, when I get home, I will make you suffer. I will strip you naked and kiss you for an hour, only touching you with my mouth. Then I will flip you on your belly and rim you for an hour. And if you even touch your cock, I will slap your hands away. Then I'm going to jerk off and make you watch. Then I'm going to talk to you, tell you what I plan to do to you. And when you are writhing, begging for release, I'm going to take my black silk, the one you like so well, and stroke every inch of your body but where you need it most. Then
He picked up the phone, cutting me off. I love you.
Well shit! That stopped a really good fantasy. My anger already deflated, gone in the majesty of hearing him say the words to me for the first time.
Its true. I do love you.
I know. Are you okay?
Great. Thank you. I panicked again.
I know. Just don't hang up on me. I don't care if you wake me up or not. I want you to.
God! I love you so much.
I love you too.
When are you getting home?
My flight should get in at noon. I can be home at one. Care to meet me
Yeah, I have the day off. Call me from the airport and I'll be ready. Maybe have a surprise for you.
Sounds good. So you're okay?
Yeah. Good night, Seth.
Good night, Grey. I love you.
I showed up at the airport with a grin on my face. I was still smiling during preflight. I finally put it aside to fly home. Uneventful the whole way, I still forced myself to not think too much about the upcoming events. We got into Seattle ten minutes ahead of schedule. I turned the plane over and completed the post flight briefing. Then I grabbed my bag and headed into the car park, cell phone in hand, dialing home. I got Grey and told him I'd be there in a few minutes. He told me to find him in the bedroom. I got hard right there. I had a difficult time fitting under my steering wheel. I tilted the wheel up so I could drive and broke one or two speed limits getting home. I pulled into the garage and left my bag and cell in the car. I walked into the house and started leaving a trail of clothes to the bedroom. I was so hard that I throbbed and bobbed once free of my briefs. I turned into the bedroom and froze. I stood entranced when I saw Grey. He was lying on the bed, wearing only a pair of my light gray briefs. His erection was pushing into the fabric. My underwear was a couple of sizes too small for him and the fabric stretched so tightly over him, that I could see each vein on his cock and the flared tip of the head. I felt pre-cum push out of me and hit my foot. I watched Grey watch me drip. I saw a wet patch spread on the cotton. I licked my lips. He watched me do that as well. I still didn't move, still enchanted by his beauty. He lowered a hand to his chest and brushed his thumb over one nipple repeatedly. Just brushing back and forth, feather light. I watched his body hitch. He never let his eyes leave mine. Then I saw him throw his head back and cry out. My eyes latched onto his cock twitching as semen was pushed through the cotton, jetting and pooling on his thigh. It was too much and I felt myself tighten and shoot. It shot out a few feet and splat on the hard wood floor before easing to a gentle trickle on my foot. I have never in my life had a spontaneous orgasm, getting off from just seeing someone else shoot. By the look of wonder on Grey's sweaty face, he hadn't either.
I was still hard and so was Grey. I moved to the bed, finally free to move, and pulled the underwear off him. I scooped my drippings off my foot and what was pooled in the briefs and squelched it into his hole. We had never done this before, but today, I was making him mine. I was going in. All I saw was trust and love in Grey's eyes. He wanted this and was ready. I kept moving my fingers into him, testing him, twisting, and making him ready. He arched his back and grabbed my hips, begging me to move forward. I removed my fingers and saw him twitch. I placed myself at his opening and pushed forward, gently, slowly, not wanting to hurt. He arched his back and pulled me further into him. I was twice as long as Grey, but he pulled me into him until I was buried inside. I stayed in place, waiting for Grey to be completely comfortable. After a couple of minutes I started to move, pulling out slightly, then pushing in. He took me, all of me. I moved my shaft along his prostate in long, smooth strokes. I could feel it pulse and twitch against me as I ran by it. His thighs pulled and squeezed my hips. His hands moved over my shoulders and chest, touching, caressing, and squeezing in ecstasy. I usually last a long time if I've cum once, but not this time. He had me fisted in warm silk and I was building too fast. I was afraid I would leave Grey behind, but his face showed his own pleasure, he was close too. I felt him hard, poking into my belly. I forced myself to lie on top of him, squishing his hardness between our sweaty bellies, adding to his stimulation. It was enough, it was too much and I watched as ecstasy spread across his face. Then I felt him spasm rhythmically around my shaft, finding his release. I felt warmth spread over our bellies and smelled the heady aroma of sex and semen. I saw love in his eyes and could smell his pleasure in my nose. I felt him milk me and I tripped right then, shuddering hard into him. The waves were crashing and I didn't know if I could survive them. I blacked out.
I awoke a few minutes later, nestled in Grey's strong arms. He had my face placed against his chest and one of his big thighs wedged between mine. His large body dwarfed me, but I didn't feel anything but safe. His big hands smoothed over my shoulder and hair. Then I felt him kiss the top of my head.
The nightmares will probably never go away, not entirely. But each day, the haunted, sad look in Grey's eyes recedes further and further. Now he smiles most of the time, showing the world his inner beauty. So now I get two dreams: I get to fly nearly every day and the man I love sleeps in my arms, content and safe.

Contributed by DW Simon