The Day Joe Comes Home The Day Joe Comes Home
By Joe & Andrew on AOL
I miss his touch. I so miss him holding me while I am holding him. We were meant to hold each other, not to be separated by wires and tubes that maintain his life. I can sleep with him, touch his hair, kiss his eyes, hold his hand, and put my hand on his chest. But it's not the same as lying in our beds, smiling at each other while we touch. So when I lay beside my Joe, I think of what it'll be like when I bring him home.
Right now it seems like a million years away, but Joe's 'live in the moment' philosophy will see me through. I wish I could avoid taking him past the route where the accident happened, but I can't. Maybe he wouldn't want me to anyway. He'll have to go by it every day when he goes back to work. Joe's not one to avoid something because it's uncomfortable anyway. At least the highway sign and light pole have been replaced and it was me having to endure that in traffic, not him.
The clothes he had on in the accident have been thrown out, because they were cut off his body. The blood stains alone would freak the man. I'll take his favorite set of clothes -- blue jeans, boxer briefs, a polo shirt, white socks and a new pair of Nikes. I've already bought the Nikes. He'll need sunglasses for awhile too, since there has been damage to his eyes. He's yet to be able to see clearly out of his left one. At least he isn't totally blind like the first time. All these things will heal. It'll take some time, but I have time to give him and will help all I can.
Chances are good that he'll be on crutches when he comes home. I'll help him to the car and from the car up the stairs to his apartment. I'll have picked up everything in his apartment. It'll be neat and organized. On the dining room table will be a dinner setting for two, with long white candles. I can promise this -- it won't be hospital food. There will be a roast chicken in the oven, roasted potatoes, vegetables and a homemade chocolate cake for dessert … his favorite. His sister will make the dessert because she does it best.
His favorite wine will be in the fridge getting chilled. Enya, our favorite music, will be on the CD player. If the weather is nice, we'll sit outside and enjoy the warm air. I'll hold his hand like I have been for months. I'll kiss it gently, and put it against my face. I'll smell him, getting his scent so permanently engrained in me that I'll never forget it. Then I'll kiss him on his cheek and finally on his lips. I'll hold his head in my hand, up against his cheek and taste his sweet lips. I'll hold him close to me and kiss his neck.
His lips will be soft and moist, and they will taste sweet and warm. Mine will feel so good to him, too. I'll wrap my arm around him, pull him close, and hold him for the first time in too long, while he puts his arms around me and draws me close. I'll stop for a moment and just look at his face, into his eyes, into his soul again. In there, I'll find the man that I love, beyond all other humans I have or ever will love. I've never loved a man until I met Joe. Joe has loved only one man before me. He'll see the best smile from me he ever could. It'll be warm and sincere, loving the fact that he is again with me. We will be mates again, mates of the heart, as he says.
Through dinner, I will hold his hand at the table. The light of the candles will flicker in our eyes. The background music will help us to enjoy the atmosphere. He's turned me into a romantic man. Romance has been a wonderful, inspiring thing to me. I never had anyone feel for me, to care for me, the way Joe does. I have never, ever, cared for anyone more.
After dinner, I won't take time, yet, to pick up. Dirty dishes won't be given a second thought, nor will the mess in the kitchen. (When I cook, I cook, and I don't worry about making a mess. Joe is the same way when he cooks, but about twice as bad as me.)
I will lay back on the sofa. Joe will lie between my legs and lean against my chest. I'll wrap my arms around him and hold him close, whispering in his ear. I will kiss each ear, and behind each ear. He loves it when I suck on his ear lobe. I'll put each one between my lips and suck on them for awhile. My hand will be on his chest and stomach, his hands holding mine. Under his shirt, I'll play with his nipples, gentle squeezing them and rubbing them between my fingers. I'll lick the inside of his ear, gently, but not to tickle him. If I do it just right, it'll feel nice. Joe won't shiver under my touch, at least not by my tongue in his ear. He'll close his eyes and hold on to me as I use my tongue to explore.
"I love you, Joe."
"I love you, Andrew. I always will."
Love isn't a word to us. It's a deep emotion that means:
-- I'm glad you're with me, even when we're apart.
-- Hold on to me. Don't ever let me go.
-- Your face is so beautiful. I can see into your soul through your eyes.
-- I like how you touch me. I love how you hold my hand.
-- Distance does not separate us. Miles apart only means the fondness grows.
-- I want you to hold me.
-- I love your scent. It stays with me for hours.
-- There is no one else for me. I know what love is, and it's you.
In my arms is the only man I've ever loved. In my arms is the only person, ever in my life, to care about more than sex and a quick bang. In my arms is the man who I'd give up my life for, at any time, for any reason. In my arms is the man who almost lost his life, twice, out of madness. But in my arms is the man that I will spend my lifetime loving and caring for. When I held his hand in the hospital, when I kissed his forehead, when I held him through wires and tubes, my heart ached to take his pain away. If anything ever happened to take him from me, I would spend the rest of my life alone, his memories sustaining my breath and my desire to walk in the world for him. There would be no one else after Joe.
Joe does that for Chris, out of respect and out of an endless love for the most perfect man he ever met. I'm not second fiddle to Chris, nor am I a replacement for the love he lost when Chris died. Joe has told me more than once that I am an addition and that he loves me as much as he can. I'm not Chris and I can't come close to being Chris. I know of him and all about him. In this edition of his life, I am who Joe loves, and he is who I love with my endlessly strong heart.
As Joe lies in my arms, I kiss his lips. As we sit in peace and quiet, I hold on to him. I run my fingers through his hair, smelling the fresh soap that stays with me long past his parting. I kiss his neck, burying my face within it.
Time together is pure pleasure. We share so many common interests that I thought once that we'd get bored with each other. It'll never happen. He loves being held in my arms, and he loves me touching him. He loves reading what I read, listening to music with me, walking everywhere we can, and sleeping in my arms.
He naps in my arms, and I sleep deeply for an hour while holding him close. He has turned to lie on his stomach, between my legs. His breath on the side of my neck fills me with all the pleasure I will ever want. I gently kiss his lips so that I do not wake him. He needs to renew his life and his energy. Too much was taken from him, senselessly. I will be at his side to help him. Not once has Joe ever felt alone or empty while we have been friends, buddies. Not once could I ever feel alone. He means the world to me and he fills my senses until they are at the point where they will overflow. And then, to add to it, he tells me he loves me.
I kiss him more urgently, wishing him to wake and to hold me while I hold him. The man that was broken is now healing, and in his recovery comes the lifting of all the sadness I felt. His body heals. My spirit does the same.
I never took him for granted, and I never could. His heart is mine, and mine is his. We kiss to firm the bond between us, to say I love you without words, and to share ourselves with the other. I do not scream for his attention. He gives me complete and undivided attention when we are together. I will not ask much of Joe, for my needs and wants are few. I only need love.
I wrap my arms around his body, feeling his warmth. He nuzzles into my neck, kissing and licking it all over, side to side, back to back. He returns to my lips and I put my hand on the side of his head, pulling him to me, letting his moist sweet lips caress mine. I feel his hardness pressing against mine, equally hard. We have not had sex for too long, but it is not sex we want right now. Being hard with Joe is perfect, but we have a while yet before we need to seek relief. The time apart has been too long to rush into sex. We could lie together for days, clothed or naked ... it doesn't matter, as long as we could love.
The stack of CDs has finished playing, which means we have been together for about 6 hours. I don't want to get up, so we enjoy the silence. What more could I want now anyway? Joe looks into my eyes. God only knows what he sees in there. But then again, when I look into his, I see enough to write a million words.
We are eight years apart in age. I'll be 34 in October (1998). Joe was 42 in March. In his face, I see a man who doesn't care about differences, only about what's common. The way we hold each other, the way we like silence, the music we love, the meals we cook, the books we read, the work we do, and the love we make.
Joe tells me to close my eyes. He kisses my eyelids. When I reopen them, he is smiling. Whatever time portal I walked through at the right moment in my life, there's no going back through it again. I'm here to stay.
Thinking about this, and enjoying who and what he is, I pull him to my lips again and kiss him deeply. My tongue explores his mouth. His breath is sweet from the wine we had with dinner. He in turn explores me, sensing what drives me to worry about him.
I've heard it a couple of times in the past. I believe him. I also believe, that he reads my mind. Probably more to the fact, he reads my face. He hears my heart. I don't always hear his, but that's why he is Joe and I am Andrew. The differences make little difference, but they make us unique.
Joe lies on his side on the sofa and helps me settle in beside him, facing away. He pulls my hips into his crotch, spoons-style, which I love. He wraps his arms around me. This is my favorite way to be held by Joe because I can trust him behind my back. I love his arms wrapped around my chest, where I can really feel them. He runs his hands through my hair, down my face, across my shoulders and back, down to my hips. He reaches in front of me and feels me through the fabric of my blue jeans. We have long since kicked our sneakers off.
I've been hard since we came through the door, maybe even sooner. He says I'm the boy who makes him hard, who makes his heart pound. Well, he's gotta know he does it to me too. I can't walk straight sometimes for being so hard.
Joe wraps his left arm around my chest and keeps his right hand on my crotch. He kisses my neck and starts nibbling on my ears. This, unlike when I do it to him, makes me shiver all over. I could cum just from him licking inside my ears. His tongue is so sensual. He knows how to use his tongue. He doesn't tickle me, but he knows how to drive me to shudder. And when I shudder, he knows I've shot my load. He doesn't want to push it that far right now. He wants, as do I, to enjoy hours of lovemaking. But it doesn't mean I won't stay hard, because I will. I don't usually wear jockeys or boxers under jeans. My poor dick would suffocate if I did, thanks to Joe.
True story--he made me hard at work one day. He kept sending really suggestive E-mail, even though he's only over a cubicle wall from me. Only Joe would do that to me. If our company's security division reads employee E-mail, they sure got a laugh that day. I had to sit at my desk for half an hour and read boring software manuals (and turn off my E-mail program) so that I'd go soft again. Joe -- he adds so much to my life. In many ways. And I secretly love that he does that, too. But don't tell him...I'll NEVER get away from my desk!
His hands explore my chest. I sit up only long enough to take my shirt off. He runs his hand over my nipples and my skin. He kisses my shoulders and my back, licking and tasting with his lips and tongue. I turn my head so we can kiss each other on the lips. I'm in heaven again, with Joe holding me close, feeling me up, touching my sensitive spots, while making me hard. His arms are strong. He holds his hand over my heart, feeling it beat through my chest. His tongue probes my mouth. He's stroking my Adam's apple with his hand while we kiss.
In a moment, he slides his hand into my jeans again. When he touches me, he moves down to my balls, massaging them with his fingers, playing with them in my sac. His tongue reaches deeper into my mouth as he encircles my stiffness. I couldn't get harder if I tried. His hand is gentle and urging, getting me up and keeping me hard.
I reach one hand between my ass and Joe's crotch. He too is hard. He presses against my hand, rubbing the denim material against me. It feels amazingly good to know that I'm making my man hard, wanting me, not being shy around me, proud to show his affection and love for me.
"I don't remember yet if I've told you I love you, Andrew."
"I don't remember either, Joe."
"You lie. But I would tell you anyway, even if I said it a thousand times a day. I love you so much. I am in love with your mind and your body. And your soul."
"I love you, too, Joe. It's not possible for me to love you any more than I do."
I turn around on my right side, facing him, putting my crotch to his crotch, my chest to his chest, my heart to his heart. I wrap my arms around him and pull him toward me. I wouldn't let him go if someone paid me a hundred million dollars. Joe is priceless to me. His life is mine again. I kiss him full on the lips, probing his mouth with my tongue. I remove his shirt, rolling it up and inhaling deeply of his scent before I put it on the floor beside the sofa. I put my face into his neck and kiss his skin. I probe his ear with my moist tongue, licking inside the canal and then sucking his lobe again. The skin of his back is warm beneath my hand. The taste of his skin lingers in my mouth.
Night begins to fall as we lay together, in each other's arms. Time doesn't matter to us today. Life started moving forward again for us the moment I picked him up. My heart beats again in a steady rhythm of love, not in fear and sadness as before. I am full of gratitude for Joe and for his unconditional love of me. He says he loves me and I know I have nothing to fear.
As the darkness takes over the day, we lay in soft shadows of the last dying light. A lamp will come on shortly on a timer. In this darkness, we do not need to see. We only need to feel. His body is warm in my arms. His touch is gentle and loving. My hardness presses against his hardness. We are hard out of love and sex, much more one than the other.
Love is the reason for life. When there is no love at the moment for someone, be ever hopeful that love will come soon. It will. There is a mate out there for each of us ... and they are not replacements. They too are additions, as I am to Joe, even in his loss of Chris. Love makes your heart beat steadily. Even in the anxiety of loss of perfect love comes love renewed, and a fresh outlook. With every breath you take, someone out there is breathing just as steadily, and looking for you to be one with them.
My attachment to him is complete. I take my cock out of the opening in my jeans and slide it into the opening of his. I too know that he likes this, having done this with him many times. Our sexual skin rubs together. We let the sensation fill us as we lay in each other's arms. I feel the flexing of his cock against mine. Mine pushes back against his. I slide into his opening to mate with his sexual need. I know what the need feels like, for I share it.
After a while, we will cum together. We always do, or at least very close in timing. I can imagine shooting one of the biggest loads of my life. I'll fill his crotch with my hot liquid, mixing my cum with Joe's. Then I will slide off the sofa for a moment, open his jeans, and suck up the juice of our love. The cream slides down my throat and fills my insides with pleasure. His juice tastes bittersweet, and I'll never tire of licking it up.
He will likely be tired from our first encounter, since it has been a long while. I take off the rest of my clothes and stand naked before him. I slide down on one knee, put my arms around his body, and lift him to me. He holds on to my neck as his legs dangle over my other arm. His body feels so good this way. I stand and kiss him. Then I carry him to his room and lay him on his bed. I undress him, baring him to my eyes.
I lay beside him, pulling him to me as closely as we can. He will need to be cared for in the weeks to come and I will gladly care for my man. My bud. I put his head against my chest and urge him to sleep in my arms. I will hold him all night, and finally sleep a deep sleep for some time. It has been too long since I have been with him.
If the dawn awakens on a workday, I will take it as a vacation day. Joe being returned to my arms is celebration and reason enough not to go to work.
Even while he sleeps, I will lay between his legs and put him in my mouth. The taste and texture is once again familiar. He is soft right now, but will not remain that way as I urge him to full length. I lick and taste the skin of his stiffness, licking it with my tongue. I roll his balls in my mouth one at a time. He begins to awaken as I work his stiffness. I swallow him as deeply as I can, letting my tongue lick the underside of his erection. I pull back so that I can lick and suck just the head. It is purple, soft, and tender. I slide slowly up and down his entire length, letting the fuzz of his crotch tickle my lips and chin. In time, I will taste the pre-cum oozing from his cock. In a while after that, he will rise beyond the point of no return and will shoot several times into my mouth and throat and I will swallow his cream.
As he softens, I will lick him clean. Then I will lay on top of him and kiss him. He'll taste his own cum on my breath.
"I want you inside me, bud. Please, I want you to be in me," he says.
I spread his legs and put them one over my shoulder. I lube my hardness and slide ever so gently and completely inside him. Once he is used to me again, I will begin a slow and steady rhythm, pushing in and pulling out of him. He taught me how to make love to a man's ass with great caring. He has never hurt me and I will never hurt him. He enjoys the fullness of me through his insides. He swallows me to the base, then lets me slide out and then into him again.
I don't want to come too soon, so I push inside and stay there, moving just enough to keep hard. I tease his prostate with the head of my cock, massaging it, making it tingle. Then I slide all the way in again as far as my cock will reach. I pull out and push back in for a few minutes, then slow down again so this will last. I could come again in a while if I let it go now, but I want the first time with Joe again to be long lasting and to feel incredible. I don't just fuck Joe. He loves my cock, in sex, but he loves my flesh in love. I stroke him slowly, my cock alive again and knowing just what to do, and how to do it right.
After many long minutes, I will slide in fully once more and then fill his insides with my load. Chances are that he will cum again, even though he already has. We do many things together, and some of them we do very well together. Bonding has once again been accomplished, with my cream being the agent of that bonding. I will stay inside him as long as I possibly can. When I soften and slip out of him, there will be anticipation of our next time.
Later in the afternoon, he will return the love and the heat to me. I will feel him fully inside me, mating his soul to mine once again, so that separation will be impossible. The love we share makes us whole. The love we share will forever fill every need I could possibly have. We lay together, arms wrapped around warm and tender bodies, healing the physical and the emotional. We are one. At this moment, with Joe, I am one with his being, until I need to be unique again.
Will I stay with him, in one apartment, the rest of his life? I don't know. We're not insecure about living apart, because we really aren't apart. We work together, and will continue to do so since we are partners in the business he started. We'll both keep up on our education, which means studying in quiet times. There is the telephone, E-mail, and our own connection that says we are near even when we are not. I'm secure in knowing Joe loves me, and Joe knows I love him because I have told him every day. I will tell him so until I cannot.
Note: This piece was written last year for our young friend in college who so loved Joe's stories. He helped me look forward, beyond the coma that Joe was in at the time, outside of myself. Somewhere out there is the future, so this is my little peek into it.
I re-dedicate this to Mike, with love and great affection. May 1999 -- from Joe and Andy
(Mike started calling me 'Andy' in our chat sessions. I never corrected him and told him that I prefer 'Andrew' because he did it out of innocence. No one else calls me Andy except Mike. That's how special he is.)