“That too much? Justin? You need to tell me,” he says. “I’ve got no idea what I’m doing here.”
“Fuck, you so do,” I mumble against his shoulder.
“No, seriously. I wouldn’t want to do anything that isn’t okay for you. I don’t want to misread you. Or hurt you. You’ve got to tell me what you want.”
“This is fine,” I croak against his chest. “I am fine.”
“But… people have preferences. They do, don’t they? What’s yours? Do you switch, or do you only bottom, or….”
He has been reading up on the terminology. It’s obvious he has never uttered these words before. It so should be me who’s taking the lead here.
“I’m usually a top,” I say sheepishly, peering up at his face.
“Oh. Right. Yeah,” he says, nodding and biting his lip. “Yeah, I want to try that with you.”
“But I think I want you to do me.”
Clumsily I grab for his hand and move it back to my butt, then slip one leg over his hip to give him access to my hole. Our erections slip over each other, squeezed together between our sweaty bodies.
“Oh God, I want you inside me, Andi,” I gasp. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”
“I want that too, baby, but we’d need lube for that, wouldn’t we.”
Baby. Oh my God, he called me “baby.”
“Justin?”
“Oh. Yeah. Lube, yeah, that’s true,” I stutter. I want him to say baby again while he’s fucking me senseless.
“And we haven’t got any condoms.”
That’s true too. The glacier got them, swallowed them along with the sandwiches and my backpack.
“Right, no condoms,” I say.
I’m parroting him as if I were Jay.
Fuck.
I have a couple of hundred tricks on my track record, and I need a total rookie to remind me of the basics of anal sex?
“Yeah, alright, looks like we can’t do it,” I say. I sound so downcast I should be embarrassed by it.
Andi is stroking my hair back from my brow again.
I’m rapidly becoming addicted to the feeling.
“I’ll jerk you off while I fuck you with a finger, okay?” he murmurs. There’s something in his tone, something that says “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” and it makes me light up like fireworks inside.
Fuck, he really seems to be the born top, more so than I ever was.
Before I can say “yeah, go ahead” or anything, to maintain at least a semblance of control, his finger is back inside me. I hiss with the delicious stretch, and he kisses me like he wants to drink my moans.
When he reaches between us, palming my cock and balls, I decide to just let go and let him take me along for the ride again.
WHEN I come again, he says, “I love you.”
I say it back.
It’s what people say when they’ve just shot their load into a guy’s fist with his finger up their ass.
But also, it’s the outlandish truth.
HE SLIPS his finger out of me. Scooping up my come like before, he turns me onto my stomach. He’s on top of me, his weight pressing me into the thin mattress so I can feel the bed slats underneath. When he parts my cheeks and smears my come into my crack, I think he’s going to fuck me after all.
But what he does is slip his length between my cheeks and move it back and forth in my crack, rubbing against my hole. The silver bag starts to rustle in an obscene rhythm.
At first he goes slow, trying to keep his weight on his elbows and knees. But quickly, he starts to build up speed and pushes down on me hard, and the friction becomes almost too intense.
I’ve been worrying about his sprained ankle, afraid he might harm it or make the splint come loose, but very soon I can’t hold on to a single thought anymore.
Each time the curve of his cock pushes against my hole, the sensation spears through me like an electric charge. Again and again, I’m getting opened up for a tiny, excruciating bit, and my brain is swamped by the maddening desire to finally be filled and fucked for real.
My hole is itching and aching, my bruises hurt, my sore muscles scream under the strain of his thrusting, and I don’t want it to end.
When he comes, flooding my crack, I lift my hips to meet him in a pointless attempt to somehow absorb his load. There’s his chuckle again, mixing into his gasps, so dirty and so tender. It’s a sound of complete satisfaction and happiness. He hasn’t made that sound before me, I know, and I feel a stab of bliss unlike anything I have ever known.
His head comes down to rest next to mine. Keeping me in his arms, he strokes my hair, saying my name. Calling me baby again. And telling me yet again that he loves me.
And I say it back.
I have good reasons to panic.
The worst part being I wouldn’t have stopped him just now if he had fucked me bareback.
And I told a guy I love him. Twice over. In broad daylight.
Oh yes, these are pretty solid reasons to panic.
But all I feel is the deepest peace.
THE CLATTER of a helicopter.
It’s eight thirty.
I’m almost mad at the rescue guys for being early. Andi and I have just been about to start a new round. My cock is throbbing from overuse, and my hole has been fingered raw. But I didn’t tell Andi that when he asked me if I was ready to go again. I guess I wanted to squeeze as much sex as possible into these hours that some conniving glacier sprite has granted me with him.
We’ve pulled apart, both still short of breath.
“Let’s wait for them outside,” Andi says.
We scramble out of the silver bag, chuckling at the clumsiness of too many limbs and too-erect cocks getting in the way.
I’m sharing sexy fun with Andi fucking Fankhauser.
And he keeps looking at me like he needs to make up for the whole of the last week. Like I’m something really, really special.
I’m freezing cold in the soaked underwear, jacket, and pants I’ve had to put back on, I’m starved, and hurting all over from the tumble I took down that crevasse yesterday.
It’s the best morning of my life.
IN THE helicopter we get clothes from the rescue service, plus coffee and sandwiches. The coffee and the sandwiches are heaven; the pants and shirts are dry. They are also an extremely unbecoming blotchy brown. Andi looks like a movie star who’s been dressed up to impersonate an especially dingy beggar.
The doctor who is part of the rescue service team examines his ankle and declares it sprained. He still recommends an X-ray at the hospital. There will be an ambulance waiting for us at the helipad, he says.
But Andi says he wants to go home.
“You should see a doctor, Andi,” I tell him.
“No need.”
“But—”
“It’s you who should go see a doctor, Justin. It was you who fell down a crevasse, not me! You might have a concussion.”
“Don’t try to change the subject!”
“Then don’t try to make me go to the hospital!”
We are quarreling. And he is winning.
It’s annoying, and it feels like we are a couple.
Something squeezes at my heart.
Just a few more minutes and it’ll all be over.
WHEN THE ambulance drops us off at the gate of the Fankhauser’s parking lot, Jay and Carl are waiting by the front doors. I gave them a call when we got on the helicopter to tell them we were on our way back to the hotel.
Andi just texted his dad. Apparently he didn’t give him a heads-up that we’d be back early.
Andi got crutches from the ambulance guys and insists he can walk by himself. I still keep close to his side, not ready to leave him be just yet.
When we cross the parking lot, someone zooms past us on a moped. It’s Andi’s friend Jo.
Same as probably everyone else in Fitsch, he must have heard what happened and no doubt came here to learn the latest news.
&nb
sp; On seeing Andi, Jo hits the brakes, skidding across the snow-covered asphalt. Scrambling off the moped, he lets it crash to the ground and runs to greet him. Grinning broadly and talking a mile a minute, he whacks Andi on the shoulder so hard I want to shout at him to be careful, for fuck’s sake.
But I can’t. I don’t know how Andi would feel about me telling off his friend like an overanxious husband, and also Jay and Carl have reached me. They take me in the middle, separating me from Andi, and fuss over me like two old aunts. For a while they just won’t stop commenting, mostly in two-word sentences like “man, shit!” or “shit, man!”
Eventually Carl pulls a Krapfen from his sweater pocket, takes a hearty bite, and says, “We’ve been up all night!”
“All night,” Jay says. “And we couldn’t focus on gaming like at all! And we were so worried we skipped dinner, even Carl!”
I know what this means and tell them I’m sorry.
Meanwhile Jo has made Andi put an arm around his shoulder. He has taken the crutches from him and helps him hop down the gravel path leading to the hotel’s back door in the basement.
It seems Andi doesn’t want to enter the house through the front doors. He wants to avoid the commotion. I get that.
I also get that he doesn’t need his friend to know he made the American tourist come four times in total up on the glacier. That we had our own private Fitscher Saturday Night up there, fireworks included.
I get it.
But hell, there’s nothing I want more than to close the distance between us and push Jo into the slush ice on the gravel and sweep Andi up into my arms.
Oh fuck.
He hasn’t as much as looked my way since this Jo person appeared and stole him away.
Now, it might be because of the horrible clothes from the rescue service. I sure don’t look like a movie star in mine. In combination with my wildly tousled hair, they make me look more like a fashion-averse yeti.
But yeah, I know that’s probably not the real reason why Andi is suddenly ignoring me again.
The real reason is much simpler.
It’s the fact that we are back to Earth. Back to real life.
“If only you’d listened to us!” Carl is saying, spraying a shower of Krapfen crumbs complete with jam over my shirt front. “Seriously, it must have been so bad, not just no food and the cold, but spending the night with this Andi guy! I mean, we all know he thinks you’re this pain in the neck—”
That moment, Andi stops and turns around.
“Justin? You coming?”
Carl drops his Krapfen. Jay looks like he would do the same if he could.
It’s a great moment.
They so didn’t believe I had a chance to score with Andi. But I did, and now he’s asking me to walk with him and calls me Justin.
This isn’t about being the winner in a bet, of course it isn’t.
I still am.
And Andi hasn’t discarded me just yet after all.
With a quick nod to my friends, I sprint up to his free side and offer him my arm to lean on.
JAY AND Carl are staring at us from behind. And Andi leans on me, his hand on my arm, like he has to.
But I’ll have to part with him in just a few minutes, and I’m dreading, dreading the moment.
Once we’re on the second floor, Andi will tell me goodbye and disappear behind the door that says Privat. Into his old life.
And I’m going to go upstairs and pack my things.
I might have been to another universe with him, but down here, time has moved forward like nothing happened. It’s Sunday, 9:00 a.m., which means I have less than an hour to get ready to leave for the airport.
I’m going to leave.
I’m just a hotel guest. Who’s leaving.
All of a sudden, I am flooded by a lack of energy that feels like a sickness.
We’ve entered the hotel and made it into the stairwell unnoticed. Apparently Andi is so not keen on meeting anyone that he prefers the stairs to the much more frequented elevators.
He laboriously limps up the stairs next to me, listening to Jo tell him God knows what.
The guy won’t stop talking to Andi, in German, of course, while guiding him past flowerpots and shoe polishing machines in the most circumspect of ways, and it makes me feel angry in a way that’s plain absurd.
Fuck, I just hate having to share Andi like this.
It’s true, just a few hours back, I felt it was the worst thing ever to be responsible for his survival without anyone else around to help. I was the only person on the planet who could save his life, and it freaked me out.
But now I find I want that back.
Fuck, Andi is mine to take care of!
He’s mine.
Only he isn’t.
Oh fuck.
WE HAVE reached the ground floor and are just passing the door that leads from the staircase into the lounge when someone opens the door.
A wave of warmth and the hubbub of voices washes into the cool and quiet of the stairwell.
About four dozen people are gathered in the lounge, moving about, talking over each other.
Andi’s folks.
They turn toward us like a multiheaded monster.
“Andi.”
“Andi!”
“It’s Andi!”
They move forward in a chaos of cheering and beaming faces.
I recognize the old lady who turned seventy-five the other day, probably Andi’s grandmother. She’s carving her way through her family with her walking stick with a take-no-prisoners determination. Andi’s brother, who is the fastest to get to Andi and three times her size, gets shoved to the side.
Another man pushes to the front now, stumbling over his own feet. It’s Andi’s father. People stay back to give him space, even the old lady.
Andi hobbles forward into the room to greet him.
Fankhauser Senior pulls Andi into a crushing hug. He’s crying.
I can only guess at what he’s saying and what’s Andi’s response. It seems Andi’s father is trying to convince his son to let him take him to the hospital. And it seems Andi refuses.
I know the meaning of “na” by now, and hell, I definitely know his expression when he tells you “no, not happening.”
His father nods, obviously too wrecked by a sleepless night to fight his son. He looks way older than he did two days ago.
He keeps nodding and repeats something that sounds like he’s vowing to never again allow his son to risk his life as a glacier guide for a tourist.
Feeling like a fiend in human shape, I focus on the Krapfen crumbs sticking to the front of my rescue service shirt.
Someone moves into my line of vision.
Andi, it’s Andi, motioning to me to step forward. I raise my eyes to his face.
His magical smile hits me in the chest so hard my knees go weak.
He takes my hand and pulls me to his side.
I don’t understand what he’s saying because the rushing of blood in my head blocks out all sound and because he’s still speaking German. He’s talking to his folks. But he keeps casting his bright gaze over me while he speaks, and it’s like standing in a shower of light.
When he’s done, his father nods at me.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” he says. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for my son. You saved his life.”
He’s thanking me for saving Andi’s life.
Right. I guess I did. It was also me who put him in mortal danger in the first place, but I feel it doesn’t make much sense to point that out.
Andi still hasn’t let go of my hand.
The old lady with the walking stick who stands next to Mr. Fankhauser has noticed.
And she isn’t the only one. The chitchat fizzles out. People are starting to stare.
Now Andi’s father looks down at our joined hands too.
Andi is the last one to notice we are still holding hands. I can feel the moment. It’s a second spanned out between eternit
ies. Andi’s breathing stops. Then he tightens his grip on my hand.
And then he pulls me close.
He pulls me close and presses his lips onto mine in a hard, lightning-quick kiss.
I’ve never been present when someone came out to their family before. Never did it myself. Everyone in my life just always knew about me. There’s never been any need for me to stand up and inform my folks I won’t ever marry the neighbor’s daughter because I like guys.
Coming out. In an abstract way, I’ve been familiar with the concept, obviously. In an abstract way, I’ve known it’s this huge deal and all.
But nothing has prepared me for this moment.
The deafening silence. The feeling of something unnamed hovering at the edge of it, the very real possibility something is going to happen now that has the power to destroy the man in its center, maybe forever.
I stroke Andi’s hand as he holds on to mine. This is like waiting for another storm to break loose, and he needs to know I’ll be there for him no matter what.
Behind us, Jo makes a funny noise, as if he were fighting an asthma attack.
I feel like I might have one myself at any moment. The tension is so thick it all but squeezes my airways shut.
It’s the old lady who ends it. She says something in a cracked, authoritative voice, the meaning of which I have no chance to even guess at, then lifts her walking stick and prods Andi’s father with it from behind.
He frowns, rubbing his lower back. Then he steps forward.
Landing a huge paw on Andi’s shoulder, he gives a small nod.
Maybe there’s a touch of resignation to it, I can’t tell, because suddenly I’m being jostled about as if I were back in that blizzard.
The crowd of Fankhausers has started moving forward again like they’re one, and Andi holds on to me for sheer balance now as everyone struggles to get close enough to hug him and tell him they love him and welcome him home.
I get my share of hugs too. It’s mostly got to do with the lack of space, I guess. Things get so busy that I couldn’t step away from Andi even if I wanted to.
I have no chance to get who is who, even though some people say hello to me and tell me their names. I only know Max, who looks more like a bear than ever with the black stubble on his jaw. Apparently he wasn’t ready to bother with things like morning shaves as long as his brother wasn’t safely back home. He shakes my hand and smiles broadly at me, seeming ready to love and cherish me forever, no questions asked, because I am the man who saved Andi’s life.
Glacier Gold Page 12
