It was surprisingly solid and warm.
“Shh…Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“But…but…look at you! You look just the same as…”
“I know. That night.” Before Jerome’s eyes the face that had once been as familiar as his own changed. It was subtle at first, a little darkening of the hair, more chiseling of the jaw, light stubble on a cleft chin, until Greg appeared about a year older than he had on their last night together. He was dressed in Jerome’s college jersey and a pair of faded blue jeans, the same outfit he’d been wearing when…
Still disbelieving his eyes, Jerome stammered, “Is it really you?”
“It’s really me.”
Stress, alcohol; it no longer mattered what caused Jerome to see his dead lover. Greg being here was an answered prayer. If it was a hallucination, it was a good one. Jerome leaned in for a kiss and was met halfway. He moaned when a warm, minty-tasting tongue pushed into his mouth. Greg’s breath mint addiction transcended death?
Jerome brought a hand up, cupping a stubbly cheek and pulling away to see more clearly. The day-old growth of beard (or was that a year old?) prickled against his palm. “I missed you,” he whispered, as if he’d wake up if he spoke too loudly. He didn’t want to wake up. Not now, maybe not ever.
“I missed you, too.”
“Really? You can miss me where you are?”
Full, dark lips pulled back, revealing the chipped front tooth. “Sure I can. I’m watching over you all the time, just like I said I would.”
“What…what happened that night?” Jerome swallowed hard, needing to know, yet not wanting to all at the same time. What had Greg felt during those last moments? What had he thought?
“A deer ran out in front of me, I swerved to keep from hitting it and got a tree instead.”
Jerome closed his eyes, the pain just as intense as it had been a year ago when he’d first seen Greg’s lifeless body.
“Don’t worry; I didn’t feel a thing.”
That still wasn’t much comfort.
Greg murmured, “My last thoughts were of you, and how I never got to tell you how much you mean to me.” His fingers reached into the collar of Jerome’s shirt, pulling out two silver bands hanging from a chain. “I see you found them.”
Jerome covered Greg’s hand with his own. “Yes.”
“I was going to ask you that night. That’s why I needed to go to my folks’; to tell them. I was going to talk to your family the next day.”
“I know.” Jerome had long ago figured out what Greg had been trying to say.
“What would you have said?”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
When Greg dropped the chain it was empty, and a silver band appeared on his hand.
Jerome looked down to see that he was wearing the other. Gentle fingers twined through his hair. “We don’t have much time; let’s not waste a single minute.” The words seemed spoken into his mind rather than his ears. Their lips met again.
Jerome moaned agreement into the kiss. If this was a dream, he’d enjoy it while it lasted. The little Mustang was cramped, and the gear shift was in the way, but he managed to unzip Greg and maneuver his mouth over that familiar, uncircumcised cock. He nearly choked when Greg slid the seat back unexpectedly.
“Sorry.”
Jerome moaned, “Okay” around his mouthful, gently sucking the extra skin and running his tongue underneath. How he’d longed for this! To be with the love of his life just one more time! Greg panted and thrust into Jerome’s mouth. Every touch, every sharp inhalation said, “I’m here! I’m alive!” Jerome didn’t have much room to get fancy, but that didn’t seem to matter. If Greg said they didn’t have much time, he’d make the most of whatever was available.
That brought guilt. He’d promised to be faithful, but in his grief he’d strayed.
Greg said, “I don’t expect you to be alone. It’s me that left you, remember?” Could ghosts read minds?
Jerome started to pull off and reply, “Not because you wanted to,” but a hand on the back of his head stilled him.
“No, I didn’t want to.” Maybe ghosts could read minds.
Jerome worked Greg with tongue, teeth, and lips, rhythm matching the sweet moans that filled the car. It was as if no time had passed at all, but there would be no games played tonight. Tonight was a gift not to be wasted. A year’s worth of pent-up longing cried for release.
A second hand joined the first in