I got a new laptop recently and while I was filtering through the files, I found this brief fanfic I wrote after reading the incredibly moving and depressing book "Out of the Ashes," the sequel to a moving but not quite as depressing favorite book of mine called "A Strong and Sudden Thaw." The publishers who came out with the books are now defunct so it's hard to find copies of them, but they're really great books and I strongly recommend them to anyone who can stomach homosexual relationships and enjoys a fascinating post-apocalyptic view into the depravity of humans. Anyway, the fic doesn't introduce any new characters, it's just something I wrote because I was dissatisfied with the hurried wrap-up to Ashes. I'm really hoping the author writes a third book, but she seems to have disappeared off the internet and with all the trouble she had with publishers I doubt she will bother. :\ C'est la vie.Uh, slightly-graphic-sex warning. Not all my fics have sex in them, I swear. Just uh, the ones that tend to be better written, for whatever reason.--

It was a remarkable event, in that it signaled the first attempt we’d made at any deeper intimacy than a light kiss. Once, we could have engaged in such a thing without a second thought, following instinct as we wound our limbs together, as our lips met and molded, and our hearts thumped rapidly in time. Once, when we were half a year—half a century—younger, both of us little more than boys, though I had had several thousand harrowing miles of travel on David, who had never left his hometown before he met me.

But everything is so different now. David is a changed man, his already tall stature now matched by a build that some would still consider stocky, but which looked so much thinner than he had been on the mountains. His face is the most altered—looking into the dark depths of past hardships gave the impression that he’d lived far beyond his years. He was practically an old man, and certainly he’d done enough, seen enough, to qualify the opinion.

Of course, I probably look exponentially worse. David had endured plenty of hardship, there is no doubt of that, and I would never begrudge him for not sharing the pain of Beulahland with me. That being said, even now my body bears so many marks from the torture. It has been months since I escaped—no, since David had rescued me, yet it’s likely most of the wounds will never fully heal. Beyond that, there are the psychological scars to deal with. I am loathe to even think it, but a small part of me has to admit that the…’traditional’ methods of aversion therapy that Brother Joe engaged in had had their intended effect. Some primeval part of me, untouched by conscious logic, had been shaped to associate images of love between men, both physical and emotional, with ungodly, unpardonable pain. I knew it, knew that was the intent of it, and yet I could not seem to help myself from shuddering every time David reached out to touch me, or flinching whenever he leaned down for a kiss. I had to train myself to remain perfectly still, first; once I had that mastered, only then could I begin relaxing enough to actively return his affections.

And oh, how it tore at me, to see the pain my uncontrollable reactions inflicted on David. Even changed as he is, every time I looked at him, I could see the unending patience and love writ into his being—the love that had survived the death of nearly all his family, all his long journey, even that horrible parting at the very start of this whole awful affair. He is so full of that love that sometimes he seems to tremble with the power of it, and it’s at those times I’ve tried my hardest to reassure him that it isn’t his fault, that we’re making small progress; that, eventually, we’d be able to be…if not exactly as before, then something close to it.

It has taken a long time, though. Funny, so much has happened in the last half year, and yet as I think back on it—something I did not want to do, but figured I must, as I’d never be able to move past it as long as I tried to block it out entirely—it all jumbles up into one ugly blur. Only the faint but enduring light at the end of it keeps me from losing my mind entirely. That moment that David first called to me in that isolation cell. The terror, the panic, the hope—and the relief. Vengeance. Again, funny, to think how close to a pacifist I used to be, compared to the bloodlust I’ve learned to exhibit every time I’ve witnessed an atrocity I can do nothing about.

But, enough of that. I have reflected many hours on what was done to me, and what can be done in response—I will not commit it down to paper, lest that give the memory of those awful men yet more power. No, I wish to relate the goodness that has finally come to us—I wish to write of David, and the barrier we were able to cross today.

It was on the shore, just south of our new home in New Orleans. It was the first time David had ever seen the ocean, and even as I fought the dead feeling of emptiness that weighed me down, I gladly anticipated how he would react. He loved it, of course, and it was an ineffable happiness to see him play so freely among the foam caps, kicking and splashing the water like a boy of twelve, not nearing twenty. He smiled as he played, and for just a moment, I was able to pretend that we were in Moline again, innocent in our naiveté, believing that a love as true as ours could never be put at risk by the cruel devices of evil men.

All too soon, I realized the foolishness of that sentiment, and yet my burgeoning happiness endured. He caught my eye as I watched him, and, though he quieted some, David left the shore and hiked up to me, damp white sand clinging to his bare toes. He was smiling, a very gentle, almost timid smile, and I could sense his hesitation as he drew within reach of me. He wanted to touch me—the slight twitching in his fingers was proof enough of that—but he was afraid.

“Come here,” I called to him, and gestured with a cupped hand.

“Callan,” he breathed softly in response, and slid right up to me, ever so slowly taking me back into his arms.

It had been long enough that such a gesture no longer frightened me. I even managed to relax a bit, falling boneless against him. He exhaled a long sigh of relief, and put his arms around me, warming me, though the beach was already warmer than anything we were used to, bathed in the midday sun’s direct rays.

“It’s beautiful,” I heard him murmur, feeling the vibrations in his chest. I opened my eyes, which had fallen closed in relaxation, and followed his gaze towards the glimmering water.

“It is,” I agreed, and went silent for a time, enjoying the soft sounds of water and wildlife, enjoying his embrace.

At some point, his arms tensed up a bit, and I lifted my chin to catch sight of him. His eyes were still on the water, but there was a hard set to his mouth now. He must have been thinking about Beulahland, or any of the many other difficulties we’ve had to endure this past year. Not wanting to see him ruminate on things he can’t fix, I reached out to him with my one arm and cupped his cheek. “Hey. It’s still warm. Want to go back into the water with me?”

His eyes flicked down to mine, and his mouth lowered into a concerned moue. “Are you sure you feeling up to it?” I was much stronger than when he’d found me, but still David insisted on babying me as if I might croak at any moment. Truthfully, I didn’t mind it—after what we’d been through, I felt we were both entitled to a little babying.

“Yes, silly, or I wouldn’t have suggested it.” Wanting to reassure him, I slipped to my feet and offered him my hand, though I probably would have fallen down if he actually used me for support. David only stared at my outstretched arm a moment, then found his own feet, dusting sand off his soaked trousers.

Feeling rambunctious, I moved closer, and started to undo the fastenings of his pants. Well, I tried to—even after months of practice, removing clothing one-handed is a skill I have yet to master, certainly not removing someone else’s. As soon as he caught wind of my intent, David gently put his hand over mine to draw it away, then did the unfastening himself. His cheeks grew a delicious crimson as he let go of the hem and the garment went sliding down with a plop, but I only laughed and tweaked his nose affectionately. Then I looked at him, since it had been a long time and I wanted to freshen my memory of the parts of him promised to me alone.

My eyes on him seemed to cause him to stir, which only made him blush that much harder. “Cal,” he chided lightly, and started to turn away. My hand on his shoulder, then his cheek, stopped him. “What are you thi—”

The suddenness of my kiss startled the breath out of him. In truth, it startled me a little as well, as I hadn’t known I was ready for such intimacy. Yet as soon as I’d begun it, I knew how much I wanted it, how the need raised up and took over me, leading me to press hard against him and curl my fingers in his hair. It still hasn’t had much of a chance to grow, nothing like the tangled curls he’d worn before all this began, but it’s enough that I could keep his head locked in place as I deepened the kiss.

Finally, he stopped tensing up and responded, groaning in unmistakable lust and reaching his own hands up to wrap around me. Where before his embrace had been like a goose-feather pillow, soft and inviting, now it was forceful and insistent. Not cruel—David could never be cruel—but it was as if the floodgates of restraint he’d built up around himself to keep from pushing me past my own boundaries had shattered, and now I was drowning in the overflow. I think I made some kind of noise myself, and before I knew it, he’d lifted me, and rather than take me into the water, he carried me further ashore.

We were miles away from town, on a section of beach that Lara, one of the locals we’ve befriended, promised us was quite remote. Still, David took care to shield us in the shadow of a large rock overhang, though the air was a bit chilly beneath it. I hardly had a chance to feel that chill, though, as no sooner had David set me down than he moved over me, blocking the breeze with his own solid form.

He was naked, I was not; a few minutes of fumbling solved that discrepancy. “Callan,” he whispered, and this time there was a question in his tone, a faintly desperate pleading that I understood all too well.

He wanted me, that much was plainly evident, and yet he was hesitant. Every overture he’d been bold enough to make since we reunited had not ended well; I’d hurt him with my rejection, and in the doing so, hurt myself. He needed reassurance, and frankly, so did I. So I gave it to him.

David gasped as my hand wrapped around him, whether from pleasure or shock, or both, I couldn’t tell. His lids fluttered closed, and he pressed his forehead against mine, arching as I began to move my hand. For just an instant, a memory of pain shuddered over me, but I managed to combat it and shove it down like something inconsequential. His evident pleasure was far more rewarding, and as he groaned and whispered my name, I grew bolder, stroking him faster, touching more of him, reacquainting myself with that body I so adore.

“Cal!” His breath exploded at the same time that his spine twisted, leaving me with my reward. I chuckled, mostly because of his embarrassment, and leaned upward to give him a tender kiss.

“You…you didn’t have to…” he mumbled, a little late. Still, he’d enjoyed it, and that was just what I’d wanted.

“I know.” My lips pressed to his, tongue sliding in until it found its match. He might be sated, but I wasn’t, and just at that moment, I was feeling courageous enough to make my wants known. After cleaning my hand in the sand, I reached out for his, and brought it down over me. His hand spasmed, but when I made no move to shove him away, he tentatively began to echo my ministrations. It felt better than I had remembered, better than I could imagine, and it wasn’t long at all before I was panting and twisting beneath him, riding that building wave of wanton release.

When it came, it stole my breath away, so that I sank back into the sand and shuddered, gasping like a fish. When he tried to kiss me, I turned my head, but only so that I could suck in oxygen. He misinterpreted me; his hand froze, and he drew back, his expression crestfallen.

“Oh, David, no!” Though it certainly wasn’t the time and place for it, I suddenly couldn’t help myself from bursting out in laughter. I threw my arm around him, wishing not for the first time that I had both of them to keep him that much more secure, and drew him down again, down against my lips and chest. His uncertainty slowly faded, and he returned with a hunger that seemed not at all sated from my attentions moments before.

Truth be told, I wasn’t all that sated either. Pleased, yes, content, mostly. But there still remained something I wanted…something only he could give me, if he was willing to risk failure enough to try.

“David,” I murmured, and rather than put the thing to words, I wrapped him up in my legs. Those, at least, I still have two of.

Though it was difficult to even hear, David had told enough of his time tethered to that awful Senator for me to gather what the man must have done to him. Wanting nothing in common with that, I decided that, contrary to what we’d preferred in our brief time of happiness living at Zack Tyree’s, I wanted him inside of me. I ached for it—I tried to convey that ache by drawing him ever closer, covering his lips, his jaw, his neck, with all the kisses I had in me. “Please…”

“Please…” he echoed, the sound of a question in his voice, but he seemed to get the gist of it, as he slowly pressed closer to me, his returning eagerness evident in the hard length that rested against my thigh. Well, we were young, and relatively healthy, and it had been so long. Still, he was reluctant. “You sure?” he mumbled, resting his weight on one arm while the other reached down to stroke thoughtfully along the outside of my thigh. “You’re not…I mean, you don’t feel…”

“No,” I lied, for truly I was nervous, scared even, but I knew I had to try getting over it or I’d never heal. And I wanted him, oh how I wanted him; it filled me like a beam of light, illuminating every nerve and fiber, becoming my sole purpose of existence, as long as I clung to him and he clung to me. “Please, David.”

David needed no further urging. With a slight nod, perhaps reaching some unspoken decision with himself, he stopped protesting and moved lower instead. His mouth found me, and I gasped, then gasped again as his fingers explored a different part of me, testing for entry, making me ready. My eyes closed, and I leaned back in the hard sand, going boneless as I gave up to the sensations he created all within me.

I might have come again from just that, but as soon as I was ready, he hauled up to meet me, face to face, and started to push in. As he did, his expression changed, and I could see how hard it was on him to go so slow and gentle. I wanted to assure him that it didn’t matter, but I was afraid that it might, that there still might be some part of me that couldn’t handle this. But once he was fully inside, I found that, though not immediately, I could relax again. I could smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, so solemn, and it made my heart ache to hear the depths of how much he meant it. Of course I knew those depths, because they matched my own.

“And I you, my sweet,” I answered him, and, pulling him down until we rested chest to chest, whispered into his hair. “Now, let’s do this. Please, I’ve missed you. It’s time.”