A small, beaten trailer sat in the desert ahead. Skeletal timbers from a collapsed barn farther back and a small plank shed were its only companions. True liked that. It made it feel more like home than living close to campus would. It wasn’t as open. His nearest neighbors were a couple miles up the road, not ten or fifteen. But still it had the feeling of space and privacy.
Seth stopped the truck on a beaten down spot of sand. The dusky grey of the creosote was turned a little bluer by the rain. Gold and red hung at the fringe of a darkened desert, fading purple and then deep blue as it rolled over their heads. A dark, spectral cloud soared above them, eagle wings spread across the sky. Facing east, True pulled a pinch of pollen from his Jish, medicine bag. There should have been corn meal, too, but he had none here.
The greeting to Dawn Boy sprang from his heart. True smiled. Behind him he could hear Seth singing the words, “Let beauty go before me. Let beauty go behind me. Let beauty go all around me.” Opening his palm, True offered the pollen up to the wind. “In beauty it is finished.” He turned to Seth, “Feel better?”
“Some.” Seth stared off into the horizon. “It feels good to be doing the right things again.” Then he laughed. “It just isn’t quite the same staring at some guy’s stroke picture figuring that it’s about six, so the sun should be coming up…” True was laughing with him.
“Come on. We’re filthy and this clay stinks.” The metal stairs groaned and the screen door screeched as True stepped inside. The place wasn’t much, but it was bright and clean. He toed out of his muddy boots before walking into the cramped living space. Dining, living and studying space were on his left, the efficiency kitchen to the right. Behind that a closet and bath lined a short hall before ending at the back in the only bedroom. He tossed some instant coffee in a couple of cracked mugs, filled them with water. Punching the buttons on the microwave, he watched as Seth unlaced his boots at the door. It just felt right having him back.
The microwave beeped and True pulled out the mugs, handing one over. After taking a swig and grimacing, Seth snorted. “Damn bro, you make coffee like your mom. This shit’s nasty.” Another gulp and another shudder, “If I remember right, there ain’t enough hot water in this place for both of us to get clean.”
Resting his butt against the counter, True took a swallow. Seth was right, it was nasty. “Wrestle you for it… two out of three falls?” He set the mug on the counter then slid his arm around Seth’s waist. Pulling his cousin into his body, “Or we could do the ecologically sound thing. You know, conserve water and shower with a friend.”
Seth’s laughter flowed against his skin as Ánaaí worked the buttons of his shirt. That would be a yes. They tripped and bumped, shrugging out of their clothes. The short trip to the bath was extended because they kept stopping to touch, kiss and caress each other. Finally naked, True chucked the cast iron pot he often heated and used to make the space a makeshift steam bath in one corner and slipped under the spray with Seth.
Green Amole soap foamed to lather in his hands. Working his fingers through Seth’s hair, he scrubbed away all the contamination from the world that was not them. Seth dropped his head back against the plastic wall, baring his throat. True moved in to suck on Seth’s skin. It felt so right having Seth back in his arms. Soapy bodies slid against each other.
Other portions of True’s anatomy were beginning to wake up and notice that Seth was back. He slid his stiffening cock against Seth’s leg and a chill shot up his spine.
Ánaaí chuckled and pulled True against his own erection. “Great minds think alike, huh?”
He buried his mouth behind Seth’s ear. “It ain’t our minds that are thinking right now.” Their cocks sliding together with the soap and the water coating them was driving True crazy with want. Another grind and another set of shivers. He could tell by Seth’s moans it was doing the same to him.
True ran his hand across Seth’s hip. The imprint of a knife was cut into the flesh. His eyes slid up to lock on the golden orbs of his brother-cousin. For Diné it was like slapping him in the face. Seth shrugged. He knew the question before it was even asked. “I got in a fight bro. You know I can’t go see no doctor. What am I gonna say, ‘some guy knifed me in a bar I ain’t supposed to be in cause I’m on parole?’ Shit, I got in enough trouble just being in the fight, it would have been real bad if the cops knew weapons were involved. You know better, Tick.” He swallowed. “We’ll talk about it later. Just don’t quit doing what you’re doing to me.”
Quitting was out of the question. He drove his mouth onto Seth, forcing his tongue between the lips he’d missed for months. Seth’s fingers clawed at his back as they rubbed against each other. Their cocks were trapped against hard, slick stomachs and each other. Juice leaked from both tips, adding its slippery touch to the fire in True’s gut. He thrust against Seth’s body. Seth thrust against his body. Frantic hands worked every other inch of skin. Fingers locked on Seth’s shoulders, True groaned into Seth’s mouth as he came. Fire washed up and over and down his senses. Seth was shaking against him mixing his release with True’s own.
True dropped his head on Seth’s shoulder. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”
“About as much,” a huge yawn interrupted the words, “as I’ve needed it.”
“What? Just that and you’re all tuckered out?”
Seth pushed True’s heavy black hair out of his eyes, “Naw. I drove all night to get here. I’m just beat.”
True turned off the spray. The water was growing cold. “You should have said something.” He stepped out and snagged a towel, using it to dry his cousin’s skin before his own. “Look, your clothes are still in your half of the closet and drawers. You know where the bed is.” True snapped the towel. Drops spun off like a thousand glittering stars. “Go ahead and nap, I have work to do. I’ll grab my stuff and try and be quiet.” As he stepped into the tiny hall, True snagged a pair of jeans and a shirt from the closet lining the other wall. Then he turned and kissed Seth’s chin. “I’m glad you’re home with me, Ánaaí. Sleep well.” True slipped into his clothes as Seth disappeared into the tiny bedroom. Too bad he couldn’t join his cousin… True sighed deep. There really was too much work to do today.
~~~~~
The last of the colors were ripping the sky into darkness. “Yo’hi’tacheene,” he called his brother by his war name, his secret name, Red Clay Beads, “Wake up.” Bending down over his beautiful cousin-brother, the beads around his neck pooled on Seth’s chest with soft clicks. Slowly amber eyes opened. True smiled and stroked Seth’s cheek. “Come, I need you.” Each movement of True’s hand caused more rattles. Elbows to wrists were wound with red, white and turquoise beads. “Don’t get dressed.”
Tossing back the covers as he sat up, “What?” True’s finger against Seth’s lip stopped more questions.
Again, “Come, I need you.” As he spoke, True was working Seth’s t-shirt over his head. He took Seth’s hand and pulled him off the bed. True’s jeans gaped, as though he’d put them on in a rush and hadn’t even had time to pull the zipper. He wore nothing underneath.
True leading, Seth following, they made their way outside and across the property. The chill of winter frosted the breath as it seeped from their mouths. Sharp stones bit at their bare feet as they headed towards a small out-building. Stopping before the doorway, blocked by a rug, True dropped his jeans. Naked, he turned to Seth. “Take off your shorts.”
“Atsilí, it’s cold. I want to go back inside.” Even as he spoke, Seth did as True asked.
Several bowls were set near the door. True selected one, mixing the grease and colored ash into paint with his hand. “I need you Ánaaí,” Ash dribbled through his fingers as he stepped into Seth. Rubbing the white powder on first Seth’s body then his own, “You have to help me with this.” Arms, chests, legs and foreheads were streaked with white ash. With two fingers True swiped colored ash from another bowl across his face; chin yellow, eyes rimmed in black and a blue
streak across his lips. Where the beads on his arms ended began a parade of yellow spiders up biceps. Then, except for the spiders, he put the same markings on Seth. By the time he finished, Seth was trembling.
True pushed the blanket aside. Candles flickered on every shelf and ledge. In the center of the room was a sand painting, ‘I’ká’hbe’ohonozin, evil wishing sand painting. The flickering candles made the delicate figures within appear to dance. He smiled and kissed Seth’s cheek. “It is almost complete. Sit here, wait.”
Sinuous and supple, True’s nude form moved about the circle. Colored ash dribbled out of his left hand onto the floor, slipping through his thumb and forefinger. Four coyote people danced around the edge. Each faced towards a compass point. Brown, pointed ears sprouted from whiskered faces rimmed in turquoise. Black merged into blue into yellow into white and back to black. Each quadrant of color was filled with animals and symbols particular to that section of the first worlds.
The dancers’ right hands carried a feather. The left carried a rattle. Coyote tails drifted behind ceremonial kilts. Lines and diamonds and circles in the four colors of the world decorated their chests and arms. Framed between the ears of the dancers at the absolute center, Atse’hashke’, First Angry, Coyote roared amidst a swirl of colors. Blackness spewed from his mouth and spun away behind his body. He had the form of a man, but wore a coat of dark fur lined in white fur. It splayed about his knees and was belted at the waist with a tail.
Within First Angry’s jaws rested a handkerchief and a picture torn from the faculty guide. Both belonged to the Chair of True’s dissertation committee. The design was perfect, too perfect. There was nowhere for evil to escape. Seth put his face into his hands, leaning forward to press his forehead to the floor. Keening rose from his shaking body as True’s words wove the world around them, “In the beginning was blackness… a blackness thick, like black wool. Atse’hashke’ said to Altse’hastiin, First Man, and Altse’asdzaa, First Woman, and Coyote-Who-Lives-Under-the-Water: ‘You think that you were the first beings. You are wrong. I existed when you were formed.’”
Stepping to his cousin, True yanked him up by the hair. Amber eyes pled with True to stop. Another kiss and True placed his hand on Seth’s chest. Biting, buzzing pain settled in his skull as his fingers wormed under Seth’s skin. Negative light burned through the back of his eyes.
Seth’s teeth gritted with the pain. True reached within, searching, finding, breaking off a piece of rib. Smiling at Seth as he withdrew his hand, “I must borrow this brother. It is good that you heard my call,” he stroked Seth’s cheek with his own, “I’ve had no time to get what I need.” Strong, sure, True’s hand crushed the desiccated bone to powder.
With sharp twists of his wrist, First Angry’s coat was flecked with ivory hairs. “There was war in the first world and so the four beings climbed into the blue world. In the second world, the blue world, there were already people there, all the blue feathered beings.” Flitting across the sand were tiny perfectly formed birds. All shapes and sizes of birds existed there. Delicate, careful, True used the bits of bone to make the whites of their eyes. “And they made fighting and killing. So the first four left and climbed into the yellow world.”
As he spoke he moved to the quadrant occupied by that color. “The yellow world had two rivers and the sacred mountains.” Six mountains dotted the yellow sand. Two rivers ran at angles across the section. White snow now sprinkled their tops and flecked foam into the water. “But here Altse’hastiin and Altse’asdzaa argued and chose to live apart. Men slept with men. Women slept with women and used other things to make their pleasure. Because of this, monsters were born. First Woman told Atse’hashke’ ‘Give me the children of Water Buffalo Woman’ and he did.”
“And Water Buffalo Woman was angry and made the waters rise and the people fled to the white world. When they had almost got to the fourth world, First Man realized he had left something behind, his witch medicine. Atse’hashke’ said to First Man, ‘Send Heron back to the first world to fish it from the water.’ And so he did. Water Buffalo Woman followed and Atse’hashke’ told First Man that First Woman had stolen her children. Atse’hashke’ made offerings and gave Water Buffalo Woman the boy child and named him Male Rain. The girl child he kept for himself and named her Female Rain.” Drops of white rain now fell from the sacred children’s fingers.
“This world was too small. The beings all climbed into the fifth world, the world of all colors. The most dangerous world.” What was left in his hand, True scattered it across the blanket of black issuing from Coyote’s mouth. Bone and corpse powder rained down as stars. It landed in drifts across the cloth and photo. “First Angry said to the other beings, ‘Now there must be death, for if there is no death there will be too many people and no happiness.’ And death came to the people.” Hand held behind him, True motioned for his cousin to come forward. “Seth, come, I need you.”
“No, bro, not this.” Pointing with his chin and lips to the evil wrought in ash, “There’s enough death in there.”
True fell on his knees next to Seth. “You have nothing to fear from that.” He pulled Seth to him, embraced him as they knelt on the floor. “You are my help-mate, Ánaaí. You are always here for me.” True stroked Seth’s face, “I love you. Don’t you love me?”
“You stole my heart long ago; I have no choice but to love you.”
“Sheít’á.” It was given to me. True pushed his cousin forward. Seth’s arms, spread to either side of First Angry, supported his body over the painting. True’s hands worked their way down Seth’s back, across his cheeks between his legs. As True nipped Ánaaí’s skin he whispered, “Baa áháshyá.” I take care of it. True stroked himself using the ash-grease paint. Then he knelt behind Seth and took hold of his hips. His cousin was frightened but excited. He was always excited by True.
On his knees, hands splayed into the colored ash, Seth keened as True entered him. Seth’s chest heaved as True covered his mouth, blocking the cry, sliding his shaft down Seth's tunnel. True pushed into the molten heat until his balls hit skin. Seth was always so tight, so hot. He stilled a moment, trembling with the intensity of penetration. Then he moved. Slow and determined; they had started, they would finish and all would be done.
As he drove into the hot confines of Seth’s body, True angled to hit it just right, where he knew Seth’s pleasure lived. Seth needed to enjoy it, be overcome by it. True pulled back, feeling Ánaaí’s body suck him as he withdrew. Each thrust was a bolt of pleasure; each withdrawal a grinding ache.
Seth reared back onto his knees. One hand explored his own flesh, the other reached back to wind into True’s hair. True’s chest slid against the slick sweat of his back. True began stroking Seth’s cock as he sunk his teeth into Seth’s shoulder. Seth wailed out his pleasure. True devoured him in the dark, pummelling Seth mercilessly with his cock. He could feel the subtle movements of every muscle dancing to his rhythm. The pleasure was growing intense. Both groaned with every movement.
True latched his hands on Seth’s hips so that he could move harder, faster. He watched as Seth began to stroke himself. Seth twisted his cock in his hand, bringing the foreskin up to almost cover his purple head and then pulling it back down rough.
Pleasure set fire to True’s skin. He could feel his balls tighten, readying themselves for release. Seth was shaking against him. With a wail he came. True shoved him forward so that the white jets spattered the sand painting. Then he jerked himself from Seth’s body, pumping his seed across the colors.
Seth rolled onto his back, shaken. His skin was coated with a muddy rainbow of ash. For a moment the gold eyes were terrified, then they returned to their normal, quiet stillness. True leaned over Ánaaí, hands to either side of Seth’s body, supporting his weight. Seth’s fingers danced along his skin and he shivered, still sensitive.
He was exhausted. All day he’d worked on this with no help until now. True sat back against the wall. Seth crawled to him. Tru
e brushed wild strands of hair from his cousin’s face. When Seth put his hand on True’s chest, True covered it with both of his own. The warm turquoise pulsed under their palms.
“Ah, bro,” Seth whispered, “when do I get my heart back so I can go?”
Seth bowed his head, laying it against True’s naked thigh. True traced the bump on Seth’s spine with his finger. The first blow, the one from his father, had marked him there. That had broken his body, but it hadn’t mattered at that point. Like all the other bullets and knives it was useless. Too late. You cannot kill one whose heart has been taken, one who is already dead.
“You will be with me, always. What is the dark without the dawn? What is the sun without the moon? Always together, remember Seth, when we were children, always together?” Tick fingered the small, ragged scar running across his ribs. “I can’t give it back.”
He hugged Seth against his chest. The turquoise bead heart fetish throbbed next to his heart. Hissing, True’s fingers worked the skin just below his own rib cage. His hand disappeared under the ribs. True pulled the heart from his body, still beating. Slowly it hardened into cold, blue stone, the veins thinning into black threads winding across the surface. When Seth tried to touch it, True closed his fingers over the fetish.
My Brother, Coyote Page 9
