Story: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is
Chapter 5 Bren's Sessions, Makarovian Thanksgiving
Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com)
Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex
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Bren's therapy sessions and Makarovian Thanksgiving begins.
Bren's Sessions Begin, Makarovian Thanksgiving
The end of the semester was coming and we had to study. This time I was glad there were no distractions. The pressure just built the closer we got to the semester's end. With any of the other students, how you did during the semester determined how well you would do during exams. Peter was a good student. He studied hard. There was one drawback as in we didn't get a lot of time to enjoy college life. No parties and almost none of the football games or campus activities. The few times we did, it was a little chaotic for everyone, so we stopped going. I didn't really miss it, we were busy. The house invasion and other issues being royal on American soil, security issues...we were busy! Parties and games were low on the priority list. We planned since my grandmother was not going for Christmas to Makarovia, to have her for Thanksgiving that week. Boris was fixing the dinner. I offered help. It was an American holiday, my holiday! It was the last one as exclusively American for me, but nooo, Boris was going to do it. Okay. I was glad he was; he was a damned good cook.
One certainty with colleges and universities; term papers! I hate them. Almost with every single subject, you wrote a paper. I helped Peter with his, but I would miss things as well. He knew the subjects. He was smart. You had to know what the professor wanted and give it to him. He had a professor that...right as he was, wanted the paper in English, which Peter did! The paper he turned in that came back and had red marks all over it. I didn't tell him to do it, but he handed in his next paper written in Makarovian. We had a Cyrillic keyboard and the computer had the font. When the professor got it he said. "I can't grade this. I don't speak Makarovian." Peter's response was. "I do, along with several others including English, though English is just one language I can speak better because I use it every day and read and write it. Since you don't, do I take points from you because of that? It's right, with everything you ask for written in this. I know because I wrote it correct in Makarovian. You can have someone else grade it. What's in it is accurate. It's right. Even someone speaks Ukrainian they can read it, the tense and usage will be a bit different, or...you can send it to someone that can read Makarovian. In Makarovia! How many languages do you speak? What you want is in here, but you can't read it, so I'm not graded well because I don't understand the English language enough to do a paper?" The professor agreed and assigned an advisor with the English language was needed. I wasn't qualified even though I spoke the English language my whole life. I was...slightly offended. Kind of. Many nights we would type on both our computers to do various papers and other research needed for whatever subject we were studying. There were times I had a paper and he didn't, but we would study together in the study or the other way around. When it was just reading or looking at the textbook, we studied together on the sofa or on the floor. I wasn't kidding about Peter liking to bother me. We were on the floor. I was propped against the sofa as Peter was stretched out on the floor beside me and slightly ahead in front of the warm fire. It was very nice and peaceful. He was barefoot and his feet were next to me. He blew a breath, tired of reading what he had been studying and dropped his head on whatever he was reading and his foot inched over to me, his head was still down, he wasn't looking at me, but his foot began moving to my leg where it moved against it, and then moved over my leg to my inner thigh and up.
I chuckled as I kept reading. "Can I at least finish this page?" His foot didn't stop as his toes began moving over my crotch. I let my head fall back on the couch and tossed the textbook away. "The Hell with Geoffrey Chaucer, I'm tired of reading Old English for now." I came over stretching out over him. "I don't like poetry much anyway. The Canterbury Tales? The Nun's Tale just tells me things haven't changed much of the centuries." I said as my hand went up his shirt to feel the warm smoothness of his back. He rolled over so I could access his chest and over great parts of him. I smiled at him as my hand went to his hairy chest.
His grey-green eyes sparkled. "That time, I was really bothering you...on purpose."
I nodded. "Yes, you were. I love you, too." I grinned kissing him a little consuming, which, of course, just stoked the passion we already had, causing him to bring me closer. We had a pretty nice study break! We were enjoying the afterglow when there was a knock on our door. "Just a second!" I said loud to whoever was at the door. I smiled at Peter. "I don't care, but do you want to at least put pants on?"
Peter nodded. "Olek, you and I were naked in the pool with Yuri, but..."
"What if it's not Boris or Yuri?"
Peter nodded as he reached over and picked his up and put them on as I did. "Okay." He called to whomever.
Boris entered with a silver tray with two mugs on it and saw us both bare-chested and...well, sex smells. Okay? You could see it on our faces, too. He grinned at us. "So sorry for the interruption, I hope I didn't knock at the wrong time." He said sincerely.
I shrugged. "We can always resume, but no, we were done...for now."
Boris chuckled with a nod, bending over, and putting a big mug of steaming coffee for Peter down and that cold latte I love down. "Love at your age is pretty good." He stood up reflecting on what he said. "Then again, sex at Yuri's and my age is pretty good, too." He shrugged. "Sex is just...good. Love is wonderful." He put the tray under his arm. "I just thought some coffee was due up here."
Peter took his and sniffed like he always did first. "You're a good man, Boris. If you weren't married and we weren't engaged, I'd ask you to marry me."
I grinned at Peter. "We'd have to move to another state or country to do that." I chuckled. "The countries that allow polygamy don't like homosexuals...the state that allows polygamy doesn't either. Besides, I don't think either of us could handle Boris from what Yuri said."
Peter laughed at that, but Boris' eyes widened. "What did he say about me?"
"That after nearly twenty years together, you still excite him," I said simply.
Boris did turn a little pink at that. "Well, that's nice to know." He grinned. "He tells me often, but it's nice to know he lets others know. No details, but he says it others." Peter and shook our heads at the details part. "I'll leave you to your..." he grinned more, "studies." He waved at where we were and what had happened and winked. "Just to tell you, he always excites me, too." He frowned. "He does things sometimes, when I'm working...just to do it. I'm working!"
Peter chuckled. "Okay, but if you're doing something that won't keep, I understand, but you can always just...go and do it."
Boris smiled. "Who said I don't?" He said simply and walked out the door.
I brightened. "Good for them! Now," I said pushing Peter down again, "do we keep going? Or is it study time again?"
"If those are my two choices? I vote we go some more." Peter said putting his coffee down pulling me down again kissing me. He hugged me gently, but tight, but added with a near whisper. "What you do to me, Eric. I've never been so happy."
"I feel the same way about you, Peter."
The webpage for Makarovia was taking shape! There were prettier pictures of the city of Stryia and the others. The countryside and it all looked beautiful. Those three photographers from Northeastern did a great job. The photos of the family were taking shape as well. I sighed as I saw mine. I was joining the family. I needed to get over whatever I was feeling if I knew what the feeling was or even about. My picture was there as current Earl of Stryia and future Prince of Makarovia. It said that just below my picture. The world was seeing this! Maybe that was my feeling of being ill at ease. There were pictures of King Olek the First. To me, he was a very, very handsome man. The Olek we knew and loved took a lot of his great looks from this man. Olek's mother, King Olek the First's first wife was there. Queen Alla was a former model! Her pictures were always good. Peter's pictures were there, but there was a lack of ones from before he was twenty-five. I could see Olek the First in Peter as well. With feedback to Dean Sutton, I was having a special link done on the website to how Makarovia became what it was. A big logo to point to The Holocaust. It was that event that really shaped Makarovia. I found out about this wonderful doctor that had done these therapy sessions and understood why she'd done it. Her mother was Jewish. Her father was Jewish, his father was Jewish and his mother wasn't. They were all Jews! Rachel Lowenstein. A truly gifted and brilliant woman that struggled because of her heritage and because she was female to get an education, but she did it. She got her parents out of Austria before it was too late and moved to Makarovia where she stayed and helped the others fleeing from elsewhere in Europe. She struggled again when the Soviets incorporated Makarovia into the USSR. She was the one hiding the tapes and records from the Soviet militia but worked with many that escaped to Makarovia. We began to add some of the written testimonials to that page but were waiting for the rest of the clips to finish. Guests could see the authentic letters and writings and see a translation.
Peter's and my schedule was tight. True to what I said to Makarovia and true to my own heart, Peter was my first concern. Don't see it as me be self-sacrificial. I wanted to be there for him. There was no sacrifice, he was a major part of me. Make no mistake; Peter was the same way with me! He would see the strain on my face, come over and just begin touching me. Not for sex...though many times, it led to sex, but...it was stressful. His touch would bring that stress down in me. Our minds were focused on our work, but I would see him hunched over the books or computer. I'd hear the change in his breathing or hear the tired sigh...I just knew! One night, I let the first grunt go after I looked up and saw he was still typing. On the second grunt, followed by the frustrated light pound on the keyboard, I got up and walked to his desk. I pulled him up from the chair and pulled him to the other room. "You need a break, Baby. So, do I." He didn't fight me about it. "It will still be there when you get back to it. You need to relax."
Peter grunted as I pushed him down on his stomach on the bed, straddled over his lower back and butt where I began messaging his neck and shoulders. "You need to relax, just like me," Peter said muffled by his face in the bed.
I nodded. "Yes. I will, but right now, you're feeling the stress more than I am." I said as I worked feeling the knots in his muscles under my fingers. "Man, you are tense!" I kneaded the muscles more making him groan a little but it was a groan of relief of some of that tension.
"I am," Peter agreed. "English shouldn't be that hard. I don't have to translate much anymore, I understand most of what I say without doing that, but writing it!?"
"You have that assistant assigned to help you," I said simply.
"Who doesn't speak Makarovian!" Peter complained. "She speaks English, French and a little German...that's it. How do I tell her what I want to say in Makarovian to get what's needed to say in English?" He said helplessly.
"I'll help you," I said grinning, leaning down kissing his knotted muscle on his left shoulder. "I speak Makarovian, you know? And English. What are you doing this paper for?"
"Statistical Analysis." Peter groaned. "What are you studying?"
"English Literature," I said. "I wish there was a course on Makarovian Literature."
Peter chuckled. "You have to have Literature from Makarovia to have that."
I stopped for a minute surprised. "Wait. There aren't any writers or artists of any of those in Makarovia!? I have a hard time believing that."
He shrugged. "Most the artists, writers and other good works were lost. The newer works of writers, sculptors and painters were in the last hundred years if there were any. We were plundered a lot in the past."
"That makes sense," I said. "With the sudden influx of gay men, many I'm sure were artists. We need to find those works."
Peter's head turned. "But they aren't from Makarovia."
"Neither am I." I waved at the study room. "Tell me that Bren and Milo weren't Makarovian!" I challenged Peter.
"You know what I mean."
"No, I don't," I said lowering my face near his ear. "How many people in Makarovian can say, they were born and raised in Makarovia? You told me there were very few. The rest came to Makarovia because of what it was; a haven." I threw my arms out. "We're all immigrants from somewhere. Olek even said I was Makarovian! He's a king! When I marry you, I will officially become Makarovian. If Olek and Helga marry..." I grinned, "and I think they will. Any child born will be half German in heritage, but Helga will be Makarovian when she marries Olek." I sighed. "Any work of art, book or sculpture done by anyone in Makarovia, after they become Makarovian is Makarovian Art!"
"Okay," Peter chuckled offering no resistance.
I wasn't finished. "You're going to tell me...on those long winter days, trapped in their homes by the freezing weather and snow with nothing to do but make love...and they would tire of that sometime...humans have limits. They didn't create anything during those downtimes!? They for the most part...are GAY!! A lot of male artists are gay! We had a lot of gay men! Of course, we had artists!" I asked and answered my own question. "Where are these great undiscovered works?"
Peter chuckled looking at me. "I thought this was to relax me."
"Answer the question," I demanded lightly.
Peter grinned. "They were bound to make friends with other people...maybe they left these works of art with them! The family would past it on in the family. I don't know where they are."
I flipped him over. "We are going to find out!" I said smiling at him more. "I just know there's a hidden treasure there," I said excitedly. "We are going to find it." I was feeling the thrill of new potential.
Peter nodded and pulled my face to look at his grey-green eyes. "Think about it, Eric," Peter said beginning to explain. "What was the one thing we were good at? Hiding." I nodded as he went on. "Not just people, but things! Everything before was...taken. They couldn't take what they don't know is there. The palace itself was hidden inside a fortress! In order to keep what we had, Makarovians hid what we had." He said simply.
"I understand that" I nodded but feeling great about this idea. "I can see how it happened, but Peter...baby...we could have works hidden that would surprise the world! Isn't it time to stop hiding? We're giving the world uranium! We've let them in. Now, we show them what we've got!" I grinned. "In fact, I'll make my first Makarovian wide royal decree!"
Peter's eyes widened at this. "You are?"
"I, the Earl of Stryia, future Prince Eric Ivanov of Makarovia decrees that all art, writing, sculptures by any artist, especially from 1935, worth keeping should be shared with all of Makarovia and the world! If it was worth keeping, let us see it!" I said.
Peter's smile grew. "Oh, now you want your title."
I shrugged. "The title is always there, I just didn't like using it too much," I stated simply.
"It opens doors," Peter reminded. "Doesn't it?"
I grinned more directly at him. "I know of one Makarovian work of art I really love and like to see."
Peter looked confused. "What's that?"
I unbuttoned his shirt. "Born and raised in Makarovia, by Makarovians." I ran my fingers through his chest hair as his smile grew and he nodded as he understood what I meant.
"Well, I'm half..."
"No, you're not!" I said kissing him quickly to stop him. "When Mom married your father, she became Makarovian. She was Makarovian when you were conceived and born. You are a living Makarovian work of art." I stretched out over him. "I can't get enough of you, Peter."
Peter smiled. "I'm glad you think so. You always did. I gave everything to you I can. I'll give more." He said softer. "I love you, Eric. With every part of me. I love you." He ran a hand over my face. "I have the greatest work of American Art here with me."
"I know you do, Peter," I said softly, indulging myself in the hairs of his arm and chest. My little desire to do this no longer caused him to jump or start, it just...was. "I do and will love you with all I am until time runs out."
"I know," Peter said pulling on my own shirt.
Peter and I weren't playmates, we weren't together just to have sex. We part the whole that made of two separate parts that were solidifying as we both touched our own bodies...even if that body part was a part of someone else. Again, no sudden burst of passion, no urgent need to claim what was ours, but a slower, more meaningful act of love.
We finally had to get up again. There was more studying to be done. I saw something I had never seen blinking on my computer. Nothing would be added without Yuri's okay, so I clicked it. Nothing happened. I frowned and heard Peter look surprised.
"What is this?" Peter asked seeing the same thing on his computer.
Then Boris' face appeared. "I see you've found the intercom icon Yuri just added." He said smiling at us. "I told Yuri about what happened and I never want to interrupt, so he put this on our computers. You can contact me or Yuri from there."
I smiled at the man. "Boris, you didn't interrupt anything."
"Maybe not." Boris agreed. "But now, if you want coffee or something to eat while you're studying, I can bring it to you. Or if you need Yuri, the same thing."
Peter chuckled shaking his head. "That's it." He said happily. "We are going to marry you and Yuri."
"I agree," I said to Boris. "We love you and Yuri. Thank you for helping us while we're here. You two are wonderful people."
Boris chuckled. "Well, it's the least Yuri and I can do. You are both working so hard. For who? Makarovia! Yuri and I are Makarovians. It's our privilege to work to support you two. Do you want coffee? It's late."
Peter looked at the clock, it was after midnight. "No, we'll be heading for bed in a minute."
"You need rest, too, Boris." I reminded. "Do me a favor."
Boris' face got serious a second. "Anything I can do."
"Go find Yuri. If he's not ready to turn in. Get him to bed and go to sleep." I said smiling. "Both of you, and make love before you go to sleep."
Boris smiled and chuckled at that. "We sually do. We love you two."
Peter looked at me. "We know."
PART ONE
It was the next morning I sent a message to Olek telling him by email telling him what I wanted to do. Then we went to class and the daily chaos.
It was after we got back when we saw a stranger talking with Yuri in the kitchen. Yuri had too much to do to just go to class with us every day and was now confident the men escorting Peter and me could do the job well. The stranger was a man in his late thirties with short brown hair he was just losing. The crown of his head was beginning to thin. He had the look of the military. He had the military baring I came to know in Charleston. His stance, he was standing at Parade Rest. That's hands behind his back in case you don't know.
"Ah, here they are," Yuri said smiling. I loved it when he spoke English, his combination of Russian and Makarovian accents added a charming flair; to me, anyway. "Come, I will introduce you." He said to the man. "This is Donald Wilson. He is your new press and social secretary." He waved at us. "This is His Highness Prince Petro Ivanov of Makarovia." He said touching Peter. "And this is The Earl of Stryia, Lord Eric Richards, soon to be Prince Eric Ivanov of Makarovia." Yuri touched me and then all but growled at Don Wilson. "They are not only royalty but dear friends of mine I consider my family."
Don Wilson was shaking our hands, but he got the message. "I understand." He looked at the two of us. "You two have become quite well known."
"Just because we're getting married," I nodded looking at his face. "What branch of service were you in?"
Don smiled. "Air Force." He chuckled as he touched his hair. "I guess it still shows."
"I was raised in Charleston. We had Navy and Air Force there...you have the look." I replied.
He smiled. "I was in the Air Force twenty years..." he shrugged, "it would show."
Yuri began. "He spent the last five years at the Pentagon. He was secretary to a general there. He has a great deal of experience." Yuri smiled at us. "He has security clearance."
I frowned. "Is that significant? Are we that important, Mr. Wilson?"
"I prefer Don, please and you most certainly are important." He looked at me. "The recent attempt to gain access to you and your family proves that. Whether it's because of the marriage or uranium. It was enough importance they attempted it. I'm here to monitor the many incoming messages through email or texts to get to you and handle incoming calls."
"You're still government-affiliated," I said.
"Affiliated as I still have the contacts, yes," Don explained. "Your country, Makarovia, has something a lot people would love to have. Threatening you two could make King Olek bow to demands. There are those that simply don't like the two of you getting married."
"How do you feel about our upcoming marriage?" I asked.
Don smiled and shrugged. "It's a marriage. I've had two of my own. What do I know?"
Peter gave a slight cock of his head. "When Penelope Baldwin came to us, her loyalties were not exactly...loyal. She tried to become queen when she didn't manage to seduce my brother she worked with this group to take the uranium for this group. Your loyalties are with the United States."
Don nodded. "I am an American." He said. "I took an oath of service, to defend America and Americans." He waved at me. "He is an American. Even after he marries you and becomes Makarovian, he will still be a citizen of the United States. He will have dual citizenship as with anyone who marries someone in another country. It is in the best interests for Makarovia and the United States to keep you two safe. I will do the job. I report to Yuri. Now, the programs Ms. Baldwin put in place are still working. She was good, but I'm better. No one will jeopardize the United States or Makarovia." He folded his arms over his chest firmly. "Or threaten you two."
"You must be a Democrat," I said smiling.
"No," Don shook his head with a grin. "I'm not a Republican, either. I'm Independent. I vote for the best man or woman for the job. The party is irrelevant."
I watched Yuri nod at that with a smile. I stuck my hand out again. "That sounds great. Welcome to a little part of Makarovia."
Don smiled. "Now, I'm going to see what else has come in." He gave a slight bow. "If you'll excuse me." He smiled and walked toward the office he was going to use.
Peter looked at Yuri and rubbed him on the shoulder. "Of course, he had to pass your appraisal."
"Yes, he did," Yuri said proudly. "He passed." Yuri smiled. "So far." Meaning he was always watching for slipups.
Again, we went up to study. I checked my email. Olek had requested a video call later for us, early for him. I told Peter about the call so he could see Olek, too.
It was after midnight here, but morning in Makarovia. I let Olek know we were ready. It took only a few seconds before Olek's face appeared. I loved how he was comfortable with us. He'd just gotten up. His hair was tossed from sleep and he was bare-chested as he sat in front of the computer. He smiled as he was waking up more. Still a handsome man.
"Good morning!" Olek greeted happily, but yawned and then chuckled. "Sorry, I haven't had my coffee, yet. It is morning here; I guess saying good night is better for you two."
I also noted someone moving in the background putting one of those thin robes on that ladies wore. She walked over bent down putting her head next to Olek's. "Good morning, Peter, Eric."
"Good morning, Helga." Peter smiled at her.
"I have a meeting soon." She explained to us and looked quickly at Olek. "I'm taking a shower." She said kissing the side of Olek's head.
Olek frowned reaching to stop her from going too far. "A meeting that includes the king, which is me. It can't start without me. Wait and I'll shower with you."
I heard her laugh lightly. "That's right, honey. Shower." She said knowing what it really would be and kissed him. "I'll get the hot water going." She looked again at us. "Talk to you later. Bye!" She walked off.
I smiled and did what Queen Alla and Olek had done. I looked up, thanking whoever had brought them together. "I love this, Olek!!" I waved at the screen.
Olek chuckled with a nod. "Well, it is pretty great."
"I am serious," I said stressing how pleased I was. "You're whole...persona has changed. You are more relaxed and you seem really happy."
Olek smiled at me. "I am really happy." He moved closer to the screen again, making his face get bigger on our screen. "I got your message." He sighed. "Please understand...we are recovering in Makarovia..." he seemed to feel a little guilty, "I would have gotten to it..."
"Olek," I said stopping him. "You're doing it again. Stop it. You shouldn't be in charge of everything. There are others to help carry the load. The uranium took the priority. Makarovia is vital, I know. You..." I grinned using his words, "were busy." As he often said. "Is there art and things from any in Makarovia?"
Olek looked embarrassed. "Yes, but we don't know where it is." He hurried on. "During the war, we hid those that came here fleeing the Nazis. Even before that, we were raided often by many. Romania and Ukraine at first; claiming what we had was partly theirs and took everything of value. The Soviet Union was guilty before and after the war. We just hid everything. There are a lot of mines. Records were not kept or lost as to which mine or where. We were under Soviet control a long time."
I nodded. "How did Makarovia survive as a kingdom?"
Olek smiled. "We have always been Makarovians; whether we under Romanian control, Ukrainian or even part of the Soviet Union." He pounded lightly on the desk. "We are Makarovians, damn it! Life can be hard here, but it is our home."
"I can totally see that," I assured. "You welcomed so many with no judgment at all. They were home here and would stay there. They were loyal."
Olek nodded smiling. "That's right." He sat back again. "I think you should do this."
I nodded. "Do I make a decree or proclamation or something? I`ve never done this royal thing, so..." I asked.
Olek chuckled. "Using the title now, are we?"
"Don't start with me, Olek." I held my finger up. "Peter already teased me about that," I said. "I think there was a lot of art created and in the homes of Makarovia. Art worth keeping so they hid them; they need to be found to the world see it."
Olek nodded. "Sure. Write up what you're looking to do. Send it to me and I'll have the palace staff write it up officially. I'll send it to you look over and with your approval; your Royal Request will go out."
"You don't make up your own proclamations or requests or decree?" I smiled.
Olek did it again gesturing with his hands helpless. "I'm busy!" He grinned, knowing he had done it many times. "The people here know what I want to say and word it correctly. I don't have time to do all that writing. I approve them, I don't write them up. Not all of them."
Peter chuckled. "Yes, you are busy."
Olek nodded. "Makarovians are so used to hiding everything, it is second nature to us now. It may take a while, but..." Olek nodded, "with the encouragement. I think you can do it. They will cooperate."
I smiled. "I'll send what I have in mind to you." I looked at Olek now. "I like what I see, Olek. I am so happy things are working with you and Helga. It's changing you. For the better!"
Olek nodded. "She's a great woman, but she's a wonderful friend." He said softer. "I've told her, now I'll tell you. I've fallen in love with her. What's better is she says she loves me."
"Who wouldn't, Olek?" Peter asked smiling more. "No one could resist you. You're a great and good man."
Olek chuckled. "I couldn't resist her."
"I'm happy for you," I said sincerely. "I'll send what I hope can be done and send it to you."
Olek smiled warmly. "I do love you both." He said kissing his hand and touched the screen. "We'll talk soon."
"We love you, too, Olek," Peter said and we did the same together to Olek as the screen went dark.
Peter smiled at me squeezing me in affection. "Now, time for bed."
I nodded. "Sure."
He chuckled. "And maybe we'll sleep afterward."
I turned to him. "Well, just state it outright!" I grinned at him.
"I am!" Peter said hugging me. "I want to have sex with my future husband!"
"Let's not waste time!" I got up quickly pulling him by the hand toward our bed.
I typed up what I would like done in Makarovia and why. I sent that to Olek to give to his staff at the palace. A "request" was being drafted and would go out after I saw the finished document.
Why do they always schedule finals after Thanksgiving? I know; the calendar. Still, it would be great to see my...our grandmother again, but that pendulum of exams would overshadow the holiday! Yes, I whined again. Peter and I had settled into a comfortable companionship. Our lives were one now and it was just getting stronger. We studied! It seemed that was our whole life now. Examinations and studying for those examinations.
I studied other things, too, but...this literature? It was English!? I felt I was reading another language! Old English read like German to me...I didn't know German! It's like...Shakespeare. It takes a few lines spoken before it begins to make sense. I remember seeing Hamlet, the one with Mel Gibson? He spoke the lines using the words from Shakespeare. It took a few moments for your mind to reprogram itself before it started to make sense. Maybe it was just me, but this Old English or even Middle English...and it wasn't just Chaucer, there was the original Beowulf, the Peterborough Chronicle and assorted poems from Vercelli. I let out a frustrated huff.
"Why am I learning this?" I asked irritated and to the only other person there beside me on the sofa. "Old English isn't even English!"
Peter looked up from what he was reading with a sympathetic smile. "Because they think it's important?" He put his arm around me. "It's history." He said simply. "Makarovian and Ukrainian are very similar even now. A thousand years ago there really was no difference at all, but with Romanian and Hungarian takeovers and other countries like Slovakia and even Moldova...it changed. Looking and knowing the languages, you see how our language evolved to what it is today."
I nodded wiping my face with my hands. "I just wanted to do ecologically safe industries and manufacturing. Safety. Not this."
Peter brought me close to him, resting his lips against my head. "You'll be fine." He said softly. "You're a smart man. Your grades are very good!" He kissed my head moved down my face with his lips. "It's just stress."
"You're stressed, too." I pointed out, but not wanting him to stop what he was doing.
He chuckled softly. "I have that same smart man that loves me and keeps the stress down." He pulled my face up kissing me. "I'll do whatever I need to. Is there something you need? Me?"
I laughed lightly at him. "I will always need you, Peter. I want you all the time. In our lives, we're partners." I got up and stretched.
Peter got up as well and stretched and then patted his stomach. "Am I getting flabby?"
I looked surprised at the unexpected subject. "No. We work out every day before breakfast. Why? Do you feel flabby?"
Peter moved his arm to stretch the muscle. "I don't know."
"I'll go make us our coffees," I said simply.
"Just ask Boris, he'll bring them," Peter said.
I grunted. "I know. He's probably busy, I can make the coffee."
Peter pulled me again to him. "You don't like being served."
"I don't want to be served," I stated. "He's as important as anyone. He has work to do."
"He is important! So are all the people employed here. Boris is paid well to work." Peter said. "Which is to serve." Then he nodded again. "You don't want him or Yuri treated as a servant. I get that. We don't flaunt our position in front of them to demean them and not those two in particular. Boris went to school and learned how to do a job and he does it better than anyone I know. Yuri, too. We value them as people because they are good at what they do, we hired them to do it for us. Boris even tells us he loves doing the job. Hell, we made them part of the family and have told them and others over and over that. Yuri even growled it to Don Wilson saying just that! If we don't utilize what he was hired to do. He might go somewhere else!"
"Grandma," I said simply melting in Peter's embrace. "She raised Mom and subsequently me that no one was better than me and I am no better than anyone else. I guess it just stuck."
Peter smiled. "You don't feel bad when a waiter brings coffee. That's his job. Boris doesn't lie. If you don't ask him because you're afraid of offending him, you're calling him a liar. He wants to and asks us all the time if we need things. He's even come with things without asking."
"A waiter is a waiter. Boris is family."
"When your mother brought things to you..."
"Okay!" I nodded. "I get it. I have the problem, not him."
"Grandmother taught you some good lessons," Peter said kissing me. "She helped shape the man I love. You just have to change how you see things." He kissed me again and rubbed his face against mine. "It may take a while, but you are an Earl now, soon will be a prince. Most importantly, you will be my husband. You will adjust. This is just new for you."
"I'm going."
I did go to my computer in the study and hit the icon to call Boris.
His smiling face appeared. That man was psychic! "I'll bring coffees right up!" He said happily. I really loved that man.
"Thank you, Boris," I said to the image. "How'd you know?"
"I remember studying somewhat as you do. I knew it was about time." Boris said simply. "I'll be up in a minute."
I looked at Peter who was giving me the "I told you so" look. "I think we will marry Boris and Yuri." Peter chuckled.
And true to his words, Boris came up quickly with our coffees which he put before us.
You know me by now; I got up and hugged the man getting his little "oh" as I kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Boris. I appreciate everything you do. I'll never be able to thank you enough." He chuckled and hugged me back. Peter got his coffee and kissed him, too and gave him a hug.
Boris was turning pink again. "I love you, too." He was about to leave when he stopped and turned back and said sincerely. "Thank you. It's nice to be appreciated. I know I really am."
I looked at the computer again. "We have more clips to go through if you want," I said to Peter.
He sipped his steaming BIG mug of coffee. "We're getting into the bad parts." He said slowly. "We're getting to where they were taken to the camp. It could be bad."
I nodded. "It was very bad," I said. "It was recorded to tell us how bad."
Peter nodded and came and sat in the chair with me again. I will admit, the chair was not big enough for two if you didn't squeeze in. I like when we squeezed in. So did Peter. "Okay." He sighed. "They didn't have a choice, neither should we."
I clicked on the file which began to play.
"I'm glad you came back, Bren." Dr. Rachel Lowenstein said quietly. "I only know what happened as I was told. This will be very difficult and painful for you to talk about." She said. "Milo is right here beside you. I will be here. These memories will trigger this state. We'll be ready for that. Milo can bring you out of them. No one can hurt you now. Understand?"
"Yes," Bren said softly. "I don't want to go through it again." He said as his voice broke a little as tears were threatening to come.
"I know." Dr. Lowenstein said. "Please, believe me, I know it will hurt. I don't want to hurt you. This will help you. Talking about it...getting it out will help your mind deal with it. It's worked successfully before with many people that have been brutally traumatized like you. What is inside you will just fester if left alone, talking about it will work to get it out. Do we begin?"
"I'm right here, Bren." I heard Milo tell his husband. "I'll hold your hand the whole time. I won't let go. You know that."
"I know," Bren said, but the fear was in his voice.
"I love you, Bren," Milo told Bren. "I always have and always will."
"I know that, too," Bren said and his voice sounded a little better. "I never doubted that. I love you, Milo."
The session, which really had started already. Dr. Lowenstein said the date and time again.
"We'll try for a happy memory first." She said. "Let's start with that trip to Midi? Is that right?"
"That's right," Milo said and I heard the happier tone. "In the South of France."
"That..." Bren said and his voice was better, "was just magical." He even sounded happy at the memories he was having. "We had pooled our money to take the trip. We knew people won't be happy knowing that we'd gone, but...we tried to have...who we thought was a friend cover for us. The trip down by train was a long one. I remember being excited more than I can tell you about accurately. Milo and I were going away...to spend time alone...together. It was almost like...a honeymoon." I heard him sigh, but it was not a distressed sigh. It was satisfaction. "We had..." you just didn't say they'd had sex outright at that time or even in Makarovia, "relations...by then, but this was different. We were going with less concern about hiding what we were doing. We got there on Friday and went to this hotel. It was clean, not a palace or even luxurious, but Milo and I were staying there. I thought it was the most beautiful hotel." We heard Milo chuckle when Bren said that. "Milo was so handsome. A really beautiful man." I heard a quick. "You still are, baby. I'm just saying."
Milo laughed again. "I'm good, Bren." He assured and we heard the kiss to affirm that.
Bren even chuckled back. "It was magic because of you." He said to Milo. "We had freedom for the first time. We didn't express it in public but in the hotel room. He was...always kind and gentle and...he loved me. I just knew it. I loved him." He laughed again. "I almost didn't want to leave the room. We'd come there to spend time together, yes, but there was a beach and that next day, we went." Then his voice took on an embarrassed tone. "I don't want to say...you want me to be honest, right?"
"Absolutely," Dr. Lowenstein answered. "You won't embarrass me."
"Well, he was more...attractive with his bathing suit on than without it." He chuckled. "I was sure everyone on the beach would know how I...was attracted by looking at my swimsuit...because of my physical reaction. If you understand what I'm saying."
"It's a perfectly natural thing, Bren." Dr. Lowenstein said.
"We had a great time on the beach. We got in the water and played around there. A photographer came and asked if we wanted a picture. He said we'd get it before we left." He made a sound one does when the shrug sometimes. "Milo asked, why not? The photographer asked which hotel and promised to deliver it the next day. We enjoyed the rest of that afternoon and had to go back when it was dark. Showering and cleaning up, we went and got something to eat." His voice broke a little and he was starting to cry again. "I don't know why. Why? What were we doing that was so wrong? I love Milo. He loves me. How is that wrong? I know what the ministers in church say. I don't understand it." He began crying. "How is love wrong!?"
Milo was heard speaking something softly to Bren.
"You know no one believes that in Makarovia." Dr. Lowenstein reminded Bren. "I said it before. You were welcomed here. The king knows and welcomed you here. That isn't everywhere. "
"It was in Germany!" Bren said getting more upset. "When we got back..." he said as his voice strained.
"It's okay, baby," Milo said again with his voice muffled as he was saying it probably in Bren's ear. "We made it, we're fine now. We're together. It's okay."
"Mom and Dad were furious at me, Milo. They locked me in my room!" Bren said crying. "You were locked in your cellar! For three days!"
"I remember," Milo said. "It's okay."
"What was so wrong, Milo?" Bren sobbed.
"Nothing," Milo said again the sound of fabric being rubbed, Milo probably was rubbing Bren on the back as he hugged him. "We did nothing wrong."
There was a period of spoken words that Milo was giving to Bren that wasn't really heard, it was to Bren only.
"Do you need a break, Bren?" Dr. Lowenstein asked compassionately.
You could hear a sniff. "No, I'm alright. Maybe some water?"
"Sure." Dr. Lowenstein said kindly. "I'll be right back."
What was interesting was, she kept the recorder on. Was it on purpose? We heard what was said by Bren and Milo to each other.
"I don't know if I can do it, Milo."
"You don't have to, I told you that," Milo said softly.
"But I keep doing this...blackout thing," Bren said. "I keep remembering what they did...not just to me, but to you!"
"I told her what happened to me and what they forced me to. I had to do those things." Milo said. "She knows. She's very understanding. I didn't want to do it. They hurt you to make me..."
"I know!" Bren shouted. "I saw it a lot of it and you told me!"
"I'm sorry you did see what I did, but I couldn't let them hurt you," Milo said.
"I know!" Bren shouted frustrated again. "You gave those guards a blow job each and later...they hurt me, Milo."
"I know," Milo said. "I hurt..." now he was crying, "so bad when they did what they did to you. Seeing that hurt me so much, not what you went through, you didn't do anything, what I saw them do to you." His voice became harder, filled with hate. "I wanted to tear them apart, but I couldn't." He then started crying louder. "I hurt when they hurt you. I never blamed you. Never. You are my angel, Bren."
"You were so brave and...I am so pathetic and helpless." Bren said sadly. "I was just...weak."
"No!!" Milo said still crying but firmly said. "You were never pathetic and certainly are not weak, what happened to you and me should never have happened." At certain parts, his voice faded, but only as he pressed his mouth against Bren to comfort him. Probably. The sound of the small kisses to Bren proved that. "You survived! I survived. Many would have killed themselves after what happened. That proves you are not weak. Please believe that."
"If you weren't there, I would have died." Bren mournfully.
"Don't you see? We need each other. I stayed alive because of you. You stayed alive because of me. What you and I went through, I would go insane if you weren't with me, but I'm not. You just get...lost when remembering." Milo said sympathetic and that part lovingly, understanding.
The door opened. "Here's that water, Bren." After a moment, she said. "I think that's enough for today." She added hesitantly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she chuckled, "well, the tape is still running. I did hear a bit of what you two said. Bren, you talked about it. You didn't fade off." Dr. Lowenstein said proudly.
"Milo was there," Bren said simply. "He saw everything."
"That's why he should be here. When these episodes happen, what usually happens right before?" Dr. Lowenstein asked.
"Most of the time, I can stop the memories from coming."
"Okay, when they happen, is it because of something else? A sound or smell or even an event that happens?" She asked.
"I don't know," Bren said honestly.
"Episodes like yours, that is usually something that triggers these fade-outs. You get lost in the memories." Dr. Lowenstein explained. "Soldiers, have something that reminds them of a terrible experience. Suddenly, they are back in the war...seeing and hearing events that their minds can't tell weren't still happening. You relive them. I get the feeling, that's happening to you, Bren."
"Yes," Bren answered. "I do. Suddenly, I'm back and they are doing it again." He let out a soft sob. "It just happens again over and over."
"You are safe with Milo." Dr. Lowenstein said. "That's why you can talk about it with him. We'll go over more later. As you can. No, rush. It will get better."
"It's just so...hard." Bren said sniffing again.
"I do understand, Bren." She took a breath. "My family suffered as well because we are Jewish. There were many incidents where guards used us...toyed with us. Often demanding oral sex if not just plain sex. I did. Make no mistake. They were sadists. Hurting a person and becoming aroused as they did it. That you and Milo had a relationship could never compare to the atrocities they committed. What you and Milo have, is love. What they did, was a horrible crime. In the case of you two, it's a miracle you managed to survive...together."
"I never understood why we were being held for loving each other, while most things I was asked to do were as bad and even worse to them!" Milo said. "Why was what we did a crime and what they did wasn't?"
Dr. Lowenstein chuckled. "Yes, well that wasn't about sex at all. There were sexual aspects most definitely, but..." she sighed, "as I have observed and read about humans in general...I found that human sexuality is much more complex than simply mating of a man and woman. Many are somewhere in between heterosexual and homosexual. We are sexual as a socializing species. There are accounts of many that are married in a traditional sort of marriage, who also enjoy relationships with the same gender." She said simply. "Those people were thinking they are above the laws...above the laws of God, nature, and man. In many cases, Bren, those that assaulted you weren't sexually attracted to you, but did it, because they could. There are many accounts of sexual atrocities throughout history. There are those that are just plain mentally ill. Many of them gaining pleasure making someone suffer. Some just like to cause pain and humiliate. What's sad is there are those that derive pleasure from the pain given and humiliation. It's, to me, a bizarre world. What happened with you two was pain and humiliation. What you and Milo have, is love. I'm going to ask a delicate question...a question I think I know the answer to. Did you ever have relations of any kind with anyone else?"
"No!" The answer was immediate from both of them.
She chuckled. "I got that impression pretty soon after meeting you two."
"Well..." Milo said a little guilty. "There was the one time...all we did was..." he hurried to explain. "We were both on the same team changing clothes in the locker room and...no real relation, but we did touch...we both had erections and..."
She laughed again. "How old were you?"
"Eleven, I think," Milo said.
"That's just preadolescence curiosity," She said. "That's normal. That's simple curiosity. It's innocent." The sound of her sitting down. "There are those who consider themselves very heterosexual that don't commit to one person. Playboys. Committed bachelors, who will have sex. They are human. There are those heterosexual and homosexual that frequently have sex with many. You two have and have done is commit to each other. You are rare." There was a sigh again. "Those people in Germany...were very disturbed. Left to do whatever they wanted to do...they feared nothing they did was not okay and there would be no repercussions. It's been around in human nature for thousands and thousands of years...recorded by history."
"Because they could," Milo said resolved.
"Jews were blamed for the financial hardships in Europe that just blew up and we were scapegoated for a lot of other things." She explained. "We have been taught that homosexuality by the churches, synagogues and generally man's lack of understanding to despise homosexuals. These views were just exploited by them."
"If it weren't for a man...used like us...who started the fire and distracted the other guards...we would be dead, like many others." Milo said. "I can't help but think, it was a miracle."
"I believe it was," Dr. Lowenstein said. "I will tell you. I performed quite a few acts of oral sex myself."
"You were in a concentration camp?" Bren asked.
"Yes." She answered. "Due to a...mistake clerically, I was released. I went and found my parents and got them out of Austria. We came here."
"You were forced to commit sexual acts," Bren said to confirm.
"I was, as were many there and told to commit acts with many men and with two women." The way she said it was so...matter of fact. It no longer was something she was afraid of and not embarrassed about. It simply happened. "I was forced to have actual sex with about nine men. They weren't gentle at all. I can give you details if it helps you understand...this wasn't either of your faults or mine...neither of you deserved what happened. What you did was to save the other and yourselves. That's how I know, talking helps. I still remember. I'll never forget, but it's not as bad now. It's in my past."
Bren sighed. "It hard for me to talk about."
"I do understand that, too." Dr. Lowenstein said. "They did this to many people in the camps. The events that happened to you are yours. We will go through them together. Nothing you tell me will shock me. Do you understand? This will take some time."
"Thank you, Doctor," Milo said. "Come on, Baby. Let's go home."
She ended the session again, stating the time and date again.
I sat back astounded. "My god. That woman is amazing."
Peter nodded. "She was gifted. Great insight."
"Did they even know about Post Traumatic Depression then? She did! She understood so much...she even predates the Kinsey Scale!" I said marveling but said Kinsey Scale in English.
"The what?" Peter asked.
"Hang on." We were at the computer, so I typed quickly on the keyboard. "There..." I pointed to the screen. "It's a scale that tells the...it rates of men and women on where they are sexually. He and a few others said that men...and women were not all just gay and straight. We all are at different points on that scale!"
Peter read the screen. "Well, it was in the late forties and fifties. Maybe she was involved with that?"
"He was American," I said not seeing how. "She was in Makarovia."
Peter nodded. "Well, observation of the same things...even in different parts of the world can bring different people to the same conclusions. They both understood human nature and did that."
I turned smiling at him. "I told you. We're normal!!" I said happily and loud.
He chuckled. "I never thought we weren't!" Peter said as loud smiling.
I don't know, but...there were times...he was just sexy! It just hit me and I grabbed his hand, dragging him where he almost stumbled, into the bedroom, pushed him down on the bed on his back where I lay across him, kissing him hard feeling a need I didn't want to squash down as my hands traveled up his untucked shirt. "Make love to me."
Peter smiled but was enjoying my attack. "I'm more than willing, I thought you wanted me."
"I do want you! You first!"
I said a few times we had passion. I said also, there were those sweet moments he and I did make love...slow and tender and...this wasn't one of those times. What we had was explosive, fast, driven where I came, he came and we did many of his gift box suggestions from memory. When at last we both climaxed at last again. We settled down again breathless and panting to regulate our breathing and heart rates as he collapsed as his arms encompassed around me, his head bowed in glorious exhaustion beside mine, but he turned his head toward me, kissing me lightly.
"Have I...told you...I love you?" I asked as I was gaining some control.
He chuckled. "Not in the...last...hour or two." He said running his lips over my jaw to my mouth. "We...didn't do...a lot of...talking." He laughed lightly. "But I got...that message."
"I do love you, Peter," I said softly. "You're my whole world."
He looked at me with those grey-green eyes. "I know you do." He smiled kissing me again. "You're my world. I love you."
I nodded squeezing him to me. "I know, Peter." I grinned. "I still have to study the original Beowulf." I ran a finger of his face. "I believe your coffee will be cold by now, too."
He shrugged. "I drank most of it while listening to Bren and Milo."
"They belonged to each other." I smiled. "Like you and I do."
"That's right." He kissed with each of the following words. "We...belong...to...each...other."
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving Grandmother again returned to Boston. She arrived and we enjoyed a good visit with her and she even insisted that both Boris and Yuri join us for Thanksgiving.
When they didn't really understand why they were included she smiled. "Gentlemen, I was born and raised in Kiev in the Ukraine. It was a foreign holiday for me too when I got here." She gave a shrugging nod. "Whatever origins we have, a day of thanks just made sense and I have so much to be thankful for. I had a very good life. I had the love of a very, very special man. I gave birth to a beautiful daughter with that man. She gave me a wonderful grandson." She smiled at me. "Who is marrying an equally wonderful person. I am so grateful for Peter and the others in this family. It is an American Holiday, but we can celebrate it...giving thanks for all we each have." She waved at Boris. "You have love with Yuri, I see it. That's something to give thanks for. Yuri has your love. That's something he can be grateful for. I know you have good jobs and do them well. There are aspects in your lives I know you can give thanks for. Makarovia should be given thanks for. This day doesn't belong to just America. We can do it, too."
They were nodding, but Boris frowned. "That's fine...but turkey?"
"You don't like turkey?" I asked smiling.
Boris shrugged. "I suppose it's fine, but...it's so...gamey." He gave a simple gesture for us to see his point.
Peter grinned. "So, make something else!" He said logically.
"I've already done the preparations. It's ready to cook." Boris said simply.
I nodded. "So? The guards outside are American. I'm sure they'd love it."
Boris smiled at the thought and nodded. "Yes, I can do that!" He looked at us. "Can we put off this dinner, perhaps on Friday or Saturday? I need supplies and the stores are pretty much closed tomorrow." He shrugged again. "The meal can be ready tomorrow as planned, we'll simply invite our dear friends out there to come and enjoy it."
"And we'll have our men from inside stand in for them to give them more time to enjoy it," Yuri said pleased.
"Sure, we can put it off. Have the first Makarovian Thanksgiving here!" I said bouncing at the
idea. "You need supplies. We can wait. What are you going to prepare?"
Boris grinned. "No holiday can happen without Kutya." (That's a sweet dish, not a pudding exactly, but with berries, dried fruit, nuts, and honey in it. A lumpy pudding?)
I nodded smiling. "Isn't that Russian?"
Boris looked mockingly offended. "It's Ukrainian and Makarovian, too! Your grandmother knows it, I know that. Besides, we all descended from Russians!" Then he pointed at us. "But no throwing it to the ceiling to see if it sticks."
Peter nudged me. "He's got us with the Russian part." He chuckled.
I smiled. "In my case...just a little." I knew of the tradition sometimes we would see if there was a good harvest coming. "What else?"
"Vushka dumpling soup." Boris grinned. (Stuffed mushrooms). "Breaded trout or some freshwater fish. Kapusta z Grochem (beans and sauerkraut), some Kolach (braided bread made of cloves, honey, and garlic) and Uzvar (a desert with again the fruits like apples, pears, sour cherries, raspberries, and others, and nuts.
I chuckled. "Aren't those dishes served on Sviaty Vechir?" (Christmas Eve)
Boris nodded waving at my grandmother. "Yes, but your grandmother won't be in Makarovia for Christmas so you won't see her until you come back. Why not have Sviaty Vechir food now?"
Peter nodded hugging Boris. "Yuri set a wedding date for us. We're marrying you two."
16