From the Storm, Peace

From the Storm, Peace by Andrew L. Whitaker awhitakr@ix.netcom.com ___________________________________________________________________________

I sat in my chair in the living room surrounded by almost total darkness weakly pierced by the uneasy flickering of a lone candle on the table beside me. I gazed into the dancing flame seeking warmth and comfort and finding neither.

Outside, the storm raged on. I glanced through the curtains and watched the rain beat down on the outside of the house. Torrential sheets of rain pummeled the house in a symphony of sound, the wind filling the emptiness of the night with fierce and haunting melodies. I watched the trees around the house bend under the might of the storm, their limbs tracing patterns across the wind and rain-swept lawn. Leaves blew in all directions, torn from their limbs and carried easily through the yard.

The power had been off for several hours as the storm ravaged the house. In the first few moments of darkness, I had been excited by the strength of the storm, but now, hours later and still immersed in darkness, I had grown increasingly uneasy. I glanced down at my watch for the hundredth time in the past few moments and agonized at how slowly time was crawling.

I reached over and picked up the phone, holding the receiver to my ear. No dial tone. I was completely cut off from the world, and I felt very alone, lost in the storm. He was somewhere out there in the storm, probably trying to make his way home from school. We had parted that morning from our separate homes, me to work, him to school after a brief morning telephone conversation that ended with the mutual reminder to take an umbrella as the storm had been predicted on the morning news and the promise to meet at my house for dinner at the end of the day. As much as he enjoyed cooking, I was the better cook, and I enjoyed the opportunity to share my talent with such a captivating audience.. I sat now, huddled in my chair, wondering why he was so late and where he was.

I thought about him as I sat in the darkness, my fears for his safety growing by the minute. I thought about all I had risked to be near him. After having known him for just a few months, I had left everything behind that I had worked for to be nearer to him. I had completely foregone a six year hotel career, many good friends, and three years of community service behind to travel northward from Florida to the foothills of Kentucky to be near to the man I had come, in such a relatively short time, to love so powerfully and so completely.

I had known almost instantly that I loved him. I had known that he was the most perfect example of humanity I had ever met and I knew that I had to be nearer to him at any cost to my own personal life. There was a spiritual insistence in my desire, my need to be with him, and I found great comfort in the angelic presence that knowing him brought me.

The gamble had paid off, and we had spent several months getting to know each other as he worked through his Master's Degree and as I began my return to the education degree I had abandoned many years earlier, lured away from teaching by the glamour of hotel life that had never really paid off.

He was hesitant to become too close at first, preferring instead to build a good friendship and slowly grow into the lifestyle he had avoided for so long, not wanting to admit that he had significant feelings for other men. Ours was not the typical gay romance at all. We were friends, soul mates, and confidants first, but we were not lovers.

We did love each other, we relished each others' company and we felt most at home in each others' company. We shared our lives completely when we were together, but we retained the barrier of separate homes by mutual agreement that each of us valued our independence too highly to commit our entire lives to each other so early in the relationship.

As our relationship blossomed, and as the spiritual bond between us grew in intensity, we became closer to each other emotionally, and we began to think about life together more often. We had never committed to the physical intimacy that most relationships like ours was built upon, and I think we were both happy that sex had never been an issue between us.

Which didn't mean that I was not interested. He was the most incredibly handsome, classic, masculine man I had ever known, with a rugged beauty that defied logic. His eyes mirrored the depths of his soul and gazing into them was directly accessing the utter core of him. He was incredibly physically fit, and had a lithe, muscular body that cried out to be touched. He had smooth skin, and a soft, gentle smile that melted my heart the moment I met him and continued to do so on a daily basis. Imagining making love to him had become the richest fantasy I had ever experienced.

I longed, from the moment I met him, to take him in my arms and make love to him with the years of lonely passion that had built up within me over time. I had hoped, when we first met, to have that honor, but He was struggling with his identity and with his latent desires for male contact, and I respected him enough to let him discover himself and his desires on his own.

And to tell you the truth, just being near him was as electric and exciting as any sexual experience I had ever had.

These thoughts comforted me as I sat in the darkness, my anxiety growing as I waited for his headlights to pierce the rage of the storm. I glanced from my watch to the phone to the window over and over again, hoping, waiting, agonizing with worry over the thought of my sweet prince out there alone in the storm.

The minutes ticked by, and I could hear the second hand on my watch as it swept its way around the dial. My nerves were beginning to unravel.

Suddenly, out of the darkness of the storm, I saw headlights coming around the corner. I jumped from the chair and rushed to the window to see if it was My lost Prince.. The familiar headlights of his pickup truck dimly cut through the torrential rain, and I ran to the door to let him in.

I pulled open the door against the strength of the vacuum created by the storm and became instantly soaked from the blowing rain. I stood in the doorway as I watched him gather his bookbag and other school materials from the seat next to him. I could barely make out his face in the storm, but I could tell he was smiling and my heart soared. I stepped out into the storm and ran to his truck as he opened the door and stepped out into the storm. He handed me his bookbag, laughed and said, "Run, you idiot! What are you doing out here?"

I smiled back at him, grabbed his free hand, and made a dash for the door. We arrived at the door at the same moment and had to push each other aside to enter the house. Once inside, I heaved the door closed and turned to him. "I've been so worried about you!" I exclaimed. "Where in the world have you been?" I asked.

He smiled, instantly melting any remaining fears in me, and took the bookbag from me and dropped it on the floor beside his other stuff. He took my hands in his and said, weakly, "I have been trying to get home for hours. There are trees down all over the place. I had to drive clear across town just to get here. But I'm okay." He sighed and released my hands.

It was then that we realized how incredibly wet we both were. We kicked off our shoes and headed into the living room where the tiny light of the candle provided the only warmth and light in the house. "What happened to the power?" he asked, turning towards me.

"It went out hours ago. I've been sitting here in the dark feeling really lonely and worried about you."

He laughed and pointed at me. "Gosh, you're a sight, even in the darkness. You're soaking wet. You better take those clothes off before you catch cold!"

"What about you, dummy. You're just as wet as I am. Come on back to my room and I'll see if I can find something for you to wear."

He followed me to my bedroom and I carried the little candle with me, lighting another atop my dresser when we arrived. The flames from the candles danced merrily and we couldn't help laughing at how wet we were and how happy we were to be in the same place during such a dark and frightening storm.

I told him to take off his clothes and put them in the hamper and began to take off my shirt and shorts. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him undress in the darkness, and I watched the muscles in his arms and back move as he bent over to remove his shorts. In the delicate light of the candles, he was magnificent. He noticed me watching and turned slightly, apparently embarrassed at being so exposed to me.

Finding much needed relief in activity, I turned to the dresser and began opening drawers, standing in the darkness trying to find something he could wear. He stood silently a few feet away, watching my every move but not saying anything. I found a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and closed the drawer.

I crossed the room to where he stood and reached out to hand him the clothes. I noticed, for the first time, that he was shivering. I thought that it was from being wet and cold, so I walked to the bathroom and grabbed a towel off the bar. I came back into the room to find him still standing in the same place with his head pointed down to the floor, shaking. I dropped the clothes I had chosen for him on the floor, and reached up and placed the towel around his shoulders, and on impulse drew him closer to me in a hug. He shook violently in my arms, and I rubbed his back and tried to dry him off, hoping the energy of my actions would warm him up.

Our embrace was tentative at first, as if to only provide the needed warmth, and I rested my hands on his back and held him close. He reached through the folds of the soft towel and put his hands around my shoulders and pulled me close to him, sighing slightly as we drew closer together.

I didn't want to let go of him. His touch, though hesitant, was warm and loving, and his breath on my shoulder warmed my spirit. I tentatively moved my hands up and down his back and he responded in kind, moving his hands gently up and down my back in small tentative motions. He continued to shake in my grasp.

I pushed back a little and looked into his eyes. He was not cold, but clearly frightened at the contact. I looked into his eyes and smiled. "What's wrong?" I asked, barely speaking above a whisper, unbridled passion building inside me.

"I'm not sure," he said, grasping for words. I held him in my arms and waited for him to speak. "I drove all that time wanting nothing more in the world than to be with you, it's all I could think of as I kept reaching one dead end after the other with all the down trees all over the place. I got really frustrated at one point because all I wanted to do was to see your face and feel your smile. And now I'm here, and I'm finally realizing I have feelings I didn't know I could have, and I'm scared to death to move."

I hugged him to me passionately, surrounding his small frame with my body, rocking him gently in the darkness. For several moments, I said nothing as I searched for the most comforting words I could find. "As you so often say to me, be not afraid. You have nothing to fear, because I'm here, and I love you more than anything in the entire world, and right now, with the Angels protecting us and watching over us, there is nothing that can happen that either of us should be afraid of." I drew him closer to me.

We stood there for what seemed like hours, clinging to each other, wrapped in each others' arms. He continued to shake in my arms, and I hummed gently to allay his fears. My intense desire to quell his fears evolved slowly into a more familiar ache within me, and I could feel the beginnings of a physical response to the contact, and I was afraid he would feel it and turn away, so I released him and walked over to the bed and sat down. I looked at him and patted the bed beside me. I was shaking now, and the room was filled with tension, anxiety and excitement.

He slowly walked towards the bed and sat down next to me, sitting close but not touching. I turned to him in the darkness and took his face in my hands. "I do love you. I love you more than even I realized, more than I thought I could love another person. I know how you feel, too, and I know you're frightened, but don't be. I'm not asking for anything at all from you. I'm just so happy to know you, to be near you and to love you with all my might." I patted his hand in a friendly gesture, trying to break some of the building tension.

He grabbed my hand and brought it to his face, kissing it gently. "I love you, too. I didn't know I could feel the way I'm feeling right now, I didn't want to feel this way at first, but as I grow more comfortable in my desires and my sexuality, I am growing more confident about how I feel about you, about men in general, and about us being where we are right now."

I traced his lips with my finger and he nuzzled it gently and playfully. He smiled and stood up. I watched with awe and fascination as he pulled his boxer shorts off and stood before me in the darkness, still damp. He held his hands in front of him, and in the candlelight, I could almost feel him blushing.

I stood and followed his lead, removing my own shorts, revealing my own tumescence with just slightly more confidence than he. I reached out for his hands and pulled him down onto the bed.

Quite naturally, we ended up laying side by side, our heads lost in the sea of pillows at the head of the bed, our bodies wrapped loosely under the warm, soft blankets. We lay closely to each other, our bodies touching at many points. I reached out and kissed him gently on the forehead feeling the electricity in his body course through mine as our skin made contact. I reached down and fumbled for his manhood, and felt the blood pump through its hardness as I grabbed it. I stroked it gently and lovingly, holding it in my hand for the first time as I had held it so many times in my fantasies and dreams. He lay there with his eyes closed, lost in his own thoughts, not moving. I watched his expression as I continued to manipulate him, and I relaxed as a smile began to slowly creep across his face.

In time, he reached down and tentatively reciprocated the gesture, running his fingertip around the head and catching a drop of moisture. I shook as I felt his first tentative touches, but when he grabbed me with both hands and began gently manipulating me, I lost all my fears and melted with rich satisfaction.

We lay like this for some time, tentatively exploring each others' bodies with our fingers and hands. I traced his tight chest muscles and my fingers rejoiced in the touch of his smooth skin. We lay there, our hands reaching and touching each other with more insistence as the passion between us grew, until we were a writhing mass of warm flesh, alive and hot to each others' touch.

Our increasingly frantic breathing became indistinguishable as we continued to explore each other for the first time. I felt that every inch of his body was alive to my touch, and my body responded to his curiosity and touch with equal excitement.

I broke the hold for a moment and gently pushed him back onto the pillows. I reached down and kissed his chest, wiping away what water was left from the rain as I traced his firm pectorals and nipples with my tongue. He writhed beneath me, sighing and moaning gently as I continued to run my tongue up and down his chest and midsection. My tongue traced lazy gentle circles on his skin, and he put his hands on my head, urging it downward.

I stopped for a moment and looked at his tumescent column, standing erect and swaying slightly as his chest heaved up and down. I licked the tip gently at first, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from him. I took him in my mouth and swirled my tongue around the swollen head, lost for a moment in the sublime feeling. I sucked gently at first, moving up and down the shaft slowly, lovingly, while his hands urged me on and his fingers twisted and turned in my damp hair.

I began sucking earnestly now, taking his length down my throat and releasing it up and down, up and down, his moans growing louder and more insistent with each slide of my throat. He was pulling my hair now, and his breath came in short, punctuated gasps as he pushed his way in and out of my throat. Suddenly and without warning, his entire body froze and he pushed his groin up and deeply into my throat as he began to erupt deep within my throat. I quickly released him and lay my head beside it as it volleyed over my face and chest. He reached down and took it in his hands, coaxing each new ejaculation from it until I was completely saturated.

Spent for the moment, he lay back on the pillows gasping for breath as I nursed him and cleaned his chest and stomach. I wiped his efforts from my face and looked down at him, his eyes glazed over with lust.

As he caught his breath, I lay down beside him, grasping myself in my hands. I was content to bring myself to climax, but he would have nothing of my taking matters into my own hands , and reached down, pushed my hands aside and took me into his shaking hands.

He moved around and brought his face closer to the object of his interest moving inside his warm hands. He watched as he stroked me and tentatively stuck out his tongue and licked off a drop of moisture that had formed. Apparently liking what he tasted, he licked it again, this time swirling his tongue around until he had taken its length into his mouth. His inexperienced teeth grazed me at first, but he soon grasped the rhythm of it and began sucking me with novice but genuine interest.

I moved my hips in rhythm to his ministrations, forcing myself deeper and deeper into his throat. His throat constricted around the invasion, but his throat muscles gradually became used to the rock hard mass that was moving between them. He moved around until he was on his knees, and continued to work while moving his hands up and down my body, kneading my chest and pulling at my nipples as his mouth continued its mastery.

I could feel a euphoric and unusually powerful climax building within me, and I didn't want to force him to take it, so I pushed him aside and reached down to finish things myself. He smiled and pushed my hands aside and took me in his hands, pulling with intensity and urgency.

I was moaning loudly and thrashing about on the bed, hardly able to contain myself and the explosion building within me. Suddenly, I arched my back and began to erupt. Enormous volleys burst from me, splattering my chest and face, his hands, his face and his chest. I was wracked with several long, delicious minutes of intense, blinding pleasure at his handiwork and struggled at the same time to breathe.

Finally spent, I collapsed next to him on the pillow and drew him into me, wrapping my arms and legs around him until we couldn't tell one body from the other. We embraced, our lungs heaving against each other, in the confines of each others' arms, loving and exploring each other gently.

Sometime later, as the storm raged on, we fell lightly asleep in each others' arms, cherishing our tumultuous experience, our thoughts running between us, without being aware of what was going on around us at all.

We slept curled up in each other's arms for several long, delicious hours that night as the rain fell and the wind howled.

I awoke sometime later, feeling his hands coaxing me back into rigidity. I opened my eyes to find his staring deeply into mind. I drew him into me and smothered his face with tiny gently kisses. We embraced and slowly coupled to fulfill the mutual and erotic needs that had arisen between us.

Sometime much later, when we had again reached a satisfactory conclusion to our efforts, we lay back and talked, sharing ourselves openly, honestly, and lovingly.

Outside, the cold, heartless storm raged on. Inside, buried under layers of blankets, we finally slept soundly in each others' arms, warm, peaceful and happy, and under the watchful eyes of our the Angels who had blessed the union.