17. The Test Drive #3
Japheth felt Rino’s hands on his back, pulling him in, pressing them closer, and the heat of their bodies colliding almost made him forget where he was, who he was, who they were.
It was as if they were rewriting their own long ignored history through their quickening touch.
There was something ancient and true about it, like David and Jonathan, whose love had been whispered about through the centuries, who had shared a bond that transcended brotherhood.
As the kiss grew more desperate in its longing, Japheth thought of Achilles and Patroclus, those two warriors bound by a love that required violent loyalty and was marked by an intensity expressed in the embrace of battle by day and flesh by night.
Japheth took a deep breath, his hands now exploring Rino’s chest, his fingers tracing the hard outline of muscle beneath the crispness of the shirt.
Rino smiled down at him, his eyes dark with desire and with something deep and knowing.
Their clothes came off quickly, but the passion wasn’t rushed.
It was slow, deliberate, and they explored each other like two archaeologists reverent in their discoveries.
Japheth, feeling as though the world had become a blur of warmth and touch, let go of everything else.
His body responded to Rino’s like they were two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together.
He could hear Rino’s breath hitching in his ear, could feel the racing of his own pulse as they both moved in rhythm with each other, as though they had always known how to do this.
It was tender and urgent, bodies pressed together, skin sliding against skin, hearts racing in a synchronized beat that felt like it could echo backwards through history and forwards into all that was yet to be written.
The chemistry between them was complicated and oh so complimentary.
As Ronald had predicted and the two lovers had longed for–they were definitely cummingtonite.
And as it happened, they could feel every part of themselves coming alive, sensations they hadn’t fully understood until now.
The ceiling fan spun in slow circles overhead, stirring the faint scent of their bliss and a pine scented candle Japheth had lit earlier.
A single sock lay draped over the footboard like a survivor of a hurricane clinging to safety.
Rino was on his back, one forearm over his eyes, chest rising and falling in a deliciously exhausted way that made Japheth ache with pride and disbelief.
They’d really done it. Rino lowered his arm, revealing the sleepy grin of a man who’d been deeply and thoroughly undone.
As they lay on the bed, tangled in sheets and each other, the cool night air brushing against their overheated skin, Japheth’s mind wandered to the warrior lovers of history, of those whose fearsome romance had been courageous enough to be public and had endured the test of time.
He thought of Alexander and Hephaestian, of Michelangelo and Tommaso dei Cavalieri, of Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas, of Hadrian and Antinous, and of Tennessee Williams and Frank Merlo.
As Rino gently stroked his chest with a lazy ease, he considered these titans of history, the resilience of their bonds, of the way they had loved, even in the face of war, sickness, and death.
And in that moment, Japheth realized that he and Rino were part of that same lineage, part of something possibly even bigger than themselves.
Rino’s hand found his, their fingers interlacing, and Japheth’s heart swelled.
It wasn’t just new love. It was trust. It was understanding.
It was the knowledge that, for the first time in his life, Japheth was truly seen.
And the vulnerability of that realization as they lay naked in a loose embrace made him feel as if the very air around them was charged with something holy, something sacred.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” Japheth whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the room.
Rino’s lips brushed against his forehead, and he smiled softly. “Me neither. I don’t know why it took us so long to find each other in this small town but I’m so glad we did. We’re here now.”
“Together,” Japheth confirmed, knowing he’d found what he’d long been searching for. “Are you going to tell your family that engines and cabooses are interchangeable? Either or both can drive a train?”
“Absolutely not,” Rino laughed. “Think they’ll know we took a test drive?”
“If we’re cheesing as hard as we are right now, absolutely,” Japheth answered.
As they lay there, Japheth felt something new, a sense of belonging.
Not just with Rino, but with himself. He had found his place in the world, and while doing it, he’d found himself in the arms of the man who had become his heart’s true home.
The night stretched out ahead of them, uncertain, but full of promise.
And as they held each other in the fading light of Japheth’s apartment, they both knew that this was just the beginning. For once, Japheth didn’t have to wonder what came next. For the first time in his life, he knew.
In Japheth’s humble apartment, under the watchful gaze of an apostolic school of fish and the sultry stare of the shirtless Son of God who held a tire iron in one hand and a Goodyear bulging the biceps of the other, two men lay together in the unlikely miracle of a beautiful beginning.