9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The absolute romance of making love on a comfortable rug in front of a fire was indescribable. The night outside the big windows was still lit brilliantly from the reflection of the moonlight on the snow, and inside the house, the fire was the only light. It shined on their naked bodies as they moved together like the waves of an ocean.

After he’d adjusted, he begged Sig to start, to make love to him, make him feel that cock, feel a connection. Connected to Sig completely, Rowan knew he loved him. It felt right, and that wasn’t just because it felt good. It felt right, being with him, making love with him, watching his eyes as they stared into Rowan’s, feeling his fucking soul.

He couldn’t say it, not while they made love, but he wanted to. It was stuck in his throat, choking him of any other words, so the only thing he vocalized were long, humming noises that sounded like they came from some other man.

Their mouths connected, and Sig’s hands were on him, touching him all over as he never missed a thrust. The man was perfect and beautiful, and Rowan had found him in the last place he ever thought he’d find a man to love.

A kink club in the middle of nowhere.

The way Sig moved on top of him, Rowan’s cock between them, he was being stroked by the muscles in Sig’s stomach. It was the strangest thing, but he felt as if a hand was wrapped around him, albeit a furry hand, stroking him as Sig pushed on toward his own orgasm.

Rowan stared into his squinted eyes, watching his rather wicked smile like he knew exactly what Rowan felt. Then, his deep, gruff voice challenged him, “Come for me. Come hard as you can, baby. I know you can do it.”

Rowan still couldn’t speak, so he nodded and thrust his cock up, rubbing even harder against Sig’s stomach until he did come, and his head flew back as his eyes snapped shut, body tense and ready to shatter into a million pieces.

In fact, he’d come so hard that he didn’t notice Sig had as well, and soon, he felt Sig pulling out of him and heard the snap of the condom as Sig took it off his cock.

Sig was up and gone, and Rowan reached over to grab him but wasn’t fast enough. He was back quickly with a wet rag to clean Rowan’s stomach from the cum he’d spilled.

“You’re messy.”

“I’m half dead. You killed me.”

“Oh, I think I see some life still in you.”

Rowan laughed and moved to kiss him. “That was so good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.” Sig sat and stared at him. “You’re even prettier when you’re freshly fucked.”

“Sweet talker. I thought that wasn’t fucking.”

He laughed and sported a little blush as well. “Right. You look good after being made love to.”

Rowan was glowing from the experience. “My room or yours?”

Sig understood what he was asking. “Right here. I’ll get us some blankets. This making love in front of the fire is too nice to leave now.”

“I’m okay with that.”

After Sig fetched blankets, they snuggled together, Sig keeping him warm. “Tell me about New Mexico some more.”

“New Mexico…well, it doesn’t snow like this except for in the mountains. It’s beautiful up there. I get there a lot. I have some friends who own a nice hunting cabin, but we rarely hunt. We mostly drink beer and bullshit.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is. At my place, though, the land is rolling, with little hills and valleys and arroyos that would take you a hundred miles away if you started walking them. It’s like those arroyos have their own air, their own soil, and trees, cacti, and brush grow down there, and they take on these strange shapes because of the flashfloods that rage through there every once in a while.

“The coyotes like traveling down there. It keeps them hidden from their prey. On the sides, you can find hawk nests too. Then, the rest of it, what isn’t down deep like that, some stones are as big as cars, just sitting in the middle of all this land. No other stones, even smaller ones. It’s like someone picked it up and dropped it right there.”

“How do you notice these things? I’ll bet no one else in the world would wonder about that.”

Sig caressed Rowan’s bare belly as he mused, “When you love the land where you live, you walk it a lot. I check fences, you know, do things for my animals, but you start to get to know every plant, every stone, every little trail. You look at these things and think, hey! You and I have something in common. Right now, in this time of millions of years, this place has been around, and we’re here at the same time. And, those stones, that path, those bits of sand and soil, they’ll be here long after we’re gone. And there I am, stepping on it. Connecting in a way that places me smack in the middle of a world that I’m alive for a blink of.”

All Rowan could do was stare at the man while those words seeped into him and caressed the inside of his heart. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”

Sig lay over on his back and explained, “You said you lived by the beach. That’s even stranger. You step on this piece of beach, one a million other feet have likely tread, and then the ocean, which is both older and newer than any of the soil on earth, it comes along and washes that step away. That step is taken out to the ocean's depths, living and breathing along with creatures that are older and bigger than anything we can imagine being as humans.”

“Are you a closet poet? Philosopher?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “When bad things happen, and when death is presented to you in harsh ways, you start to see these things. You start to wonder where you fit in the scheme of things and how you’ll ever be known at all, once all those who’ve known you are gone too.”

His partner. Sig had mentioned him but didn’t go into detail, and for that, Rowan was glad. He didn’t want sadness intruding on them, selfishly. One day, he’d ask. He’d know.

“What do you mean about the ocean being old and new?”

Sighing, Sig said, “Well, the ocean has been here longer than most mountain ranges on Earth. But it evaporates, and those microscopic parts of it go into the clouds and are reborn. I think that’s why most people are so drawn to the ocean. It’s reborn. It returns. It’s how we see ourselves. Some of the human race dies, and then others are born. We keep replenishing.”

“The moon, the ocean, us, we’re drawn to them. We feel the moon like the ocean does too.”

“We do.”

Rowan thought of some of the times at his home, how he’d take those walks on the sand. “I think I know what you mean. The wind, when it blows across the water, kicks up the waves, and it sprays over me. I feel like I’m being…touched, I guess. Touched by something bigger and more meaningful than my bed, chairs, and clothes. I have felt that belonging to something.”

“I’d love for you to come visit me, but I know you have this career and…but…one day, maybe, you could maybe…”

Rowan knew then that he had to put Sig’s mind at rest. “We’re not jumping into anything final right now, Sig, but the way I feel right now, I’m not thinking of visiting you.”

“Oh,” he said, dejected.

“I’m thinking of moving to New Mexico.”

Sig barked a laugh, rolling to his side to stare at him. “You’re insane.”

“Crazy about you. Totally crazy about you.”

“It’s mutual. But you know…first…I have to see if you can handle it rough,” he said as his brows wiggled. “Tomorrow, the club is open again. I saw the announcement on the door.”

“We have VIP passes.”

Rowan laughed and poked Sig’s nose. “Yes, we sure do.”

“We’ll talk over breakfast. I need to know your limits,” he said more seriously. “I want to know exactly what to do to you.”

“Oh, my. I have a feeling I will be walking funny for a while.”

“You have no idea.”