A Different Path

He looked over toward the fire, spying Matthew stretched out on the pallet between him and the grate, covered with a blanket, but turned toward John, watching him. Matthew's hand was under the blanket and from the rustle of that there was little doubt that Matthew was masturbating himself and he lay there, eyes open, watching John on the bed.

With a groan, John turned over onto his side, facing the wall, facing away from Matthew and the glow of the fire in the grate, picking up the golden highlights in Matthew's mop of hair, giving his head a halo.

John finished himself as quietly as he could. When he turned back facing the fireplace, now under his blanket, Matthew was asleep—or was pretending to be.

* * * *

The nights were getting colder, increasing chill stealing into the cabin as soon as dark had fallen. The rock wall of the law office was completed now, and Matthew was working on shingling the roof. The teaching sessions were going well too. Matthew was a fast learner. The increasing cold of the evenings was bringing the two men closer to each other, touching each other, perhaps not always by chance, as they put their heads together over the paper on which John was teaching Matthew his sums.

John woke up in the middle of one of his "Cal" dreams to find the cabin colder inside than ever before. It was darker too, the fire in the fireplace nearly out, hissing because of the rain coming down the chimney.

Matthew was under his blanket, on the pallet, but his body was shuddering and John almost could hear the chattering of his teeth. As dim as light was, beyond the occasional flash of lightning visible in beyond the glazed-glass windows, John could see the condensation in his own breath, so he knew that Matthew must be suffering.

"Come into the bed, Matthew. Or stoke up the fire at least."

"I'll be fine, sire," Matthew answering in a small voice. "I didn't bring in enough wood this afternoon to keep the fire burning up. It's my fault."

John's heart lurched for the young man—and not just his heart. And Matthew had called him "sire." A term of submission Cal had used after the war, when they settled down to a routine of John's body dominating Cal's. "It's madness, Matthew. I am cold too. We must combine our body heat. We'll both be comfortable enough then."

The young blond sighed and responded to the commanding tone in John's voice. He climbed into bed and turned his back to John. This was not an uncommon practice at the time, and travelers on the road were known to share what beds there were with other men at rooms in the inns, calling themselves lucky to have a roof over their heads and a mattress under them at all.

John, going to sleep with his back to Matthew, drifted off into a wet dream with Cal, coming at least partially awake to find that he now was turned toward Matthew's back and was embracing him, spooning the younger, smaller man's body in to his. Both of their nightshirts had ridden up on their bodies, and John's hard cock was between Matthew's thighs. Being so deep into his dream of fucking Cal that he didn't want to lose it, John fought the urge to come completely awake, apologize, and turn his body. The urge won, encouraged by the mewing sounds and low moans coming from Matthew and the way that Matthew's thighs were squeezing John's cock and chaffing against it in slow waves of movement. Matthew turned his face to John's and they went into a prolonged, deep kiss. John ejaculated between Matthew's thighs and drifted off into sleep again—and into Cal's arms again in his dreams.

Above all else the two were warm enough now.

John came further awake later in the night to find himself on his back and Hard. Matthew was straddling his pelvis, sheathing his cock in his channel, pressing the palms of his hands into John's chest, and rising and falling of John's cock.

"Matthew," John protested dreamily.

"Shush. I have gone with men before," Matthew murmured. "This is what I want; this is what I know you want. This is a path we can both take together for mutual pleasure and satisfaction. You invited me into your bed and showed me your real desires. No one need know but us."

With a groan of resignation, John gripped the lithe young blond's waist in his hands and began to help raise and lower him on the cock, at first slowly, languidly, but increasingly lustfully, jerking him up and slamming him down, faster and faster, with Matthew crying out at the total taking and both of them exclaiming to the ceiling as one, after the other, they ejaculated.

* * * *

By mutual connivance, the instruction and the roofing of the office—and then the reroofing of the cabin and of the shed, was drawn out during the day, while John covered Matthew and relentlessly pounded on his body on the bed at night. Neither spoke of by day of what they did with each other in the dark of night.

But after a couple of weeks John had to acknowledge that there was no more to teach Matthew of sums and all of the buildings had newly shingled roofs. John could tell as well that Matthew was hearing the call of the Northwest Territories ever more insistently. More and more wagon trains were going through. After Matthew had commented on the third one that had offered him room in the wagons for the extra rifle of protection, John swallowed hard and said, "You want to go, don't you?"

Matthew wasn't quick enough to say no, so John said it for him. "You want a new life—a new, different path—in the new territories. We've reached the end of our path together, I think. I think you should go. Go back and tell the man with the four wagons that you will go with him."

"But will you be all right?" Matthew said.

"I will manage," John answered. He stood and watched as Matthew gathered up his few possessions in his bundle and walked, with strong steps, toward the road where the wagon train had settled for the night. Then he saddled his horse and rode to Thad's Mill. He already knew that Thadeus was in Mount Solon that day. John had been invited to the citizens' meeting there, as well, where it was to be announced that he was to head the census collection in the region the next year. But he had seen Matthew talking with the wagon master and knew that Matthew was ready to move on, so he had stayed at the cabin to support Matthew in that decision.

Matthew had asked him if he would go on a different path now. John hadn't answered, because he knew he'd go on a new path, but no longer a different one. He'd made his decision about that.

Young Thad Wainwright met him at the door to the mill, with a smile and a quizzical look on his face. "My father isn't here. He's in Mount Solon today. I thought you would be there too."

"I didn't come for your father," John said. "I came because I knew he wasn't here today—that you would be at the mill alone. You knew when you told Matthew, the blond young man, about me what he wanted—why he was interested in me, didn't you?"

"Yes," Thad said, lowering his eyes, his blush betraying his own interest.

"I came for you," John said, "If you want me to cover you—to take care of your need and mine as well."

Thad didn't speak an answer. His answer came in taking John's hand in his, brushing his fingers over the rough callous of the wound on the back of John's hand, and leading John back into the darkness of the mill, toward the wheel room, as he began unbuckling his belt with his other hand.