Randy stirred and shifted and sleepily reached for Darian’s hand and pulled it down across his chest, his stomach, to his crinkly groin hair, to his erection.
“Keep touching me, Dar,” he whispered.
When he came, he gave a quick cry, a sound Darian also hadn’t known he had missed so much.
* * * *
“I have your ashes. This is a dream, right, or I’ve gone crazy.” They lay in the narrow dorm-sized bed, bodies tangled together. Darian could hear the traffic below and the ever-present gulls. He could hear his stomach grumbling.
“No dream, no crazy. I’m really here. This is real,” Randy said and touched Darian’s face, his lips. He traced the curve of Darian’s jaw, the folds of his eyes. “Our bodies are real.”
“You died. Back in the States. Your body wasted away. You left me. There was a memo
