Milk Cartons

"I'm sorry," Matt said, feeling his ears burning.

Reichert shook his head a little-difficult, as they were still lying down. "The fucking things hurt when it's hot, when it's cold, when it's too wet or too dry, whenever I might think a shiny fluffy thought or look at somebody funny. I don't know, maybe this is what I get. There's a price for everything."

"You're not being punished, you had a steel girder fall on you. Of course that'll hurt. It's not like the girder meant it or God sent it or anything."

"I don't know." The pained look on Reichert's face faded a little, and he slowly stretched his left arm, bending and straightening it a few times before doing the same with his leg. "This is nothing," he added, then, when Matt's expression must have turned questioning, "Nothing compared to what everyone else got. Don't keep telling me I'm beating myself up, I don't have to. You have to know it's true. I'd put up with this every hour of the rest of my life if it meant somebody else could have gotten out of there. I'd put up with it feeling like knives sticking under my kneecap and in my elbow if someone else had made it. I'd've gladly lost them both entirely if it meant somebody else could've been dug out before me. You might be right saying there was no one else left, but if there had been, I wouldn't've thought about it a second before having them pulled out before me, even if it meant that girder would finish the job. This is nothing."

"So you're saying you wouldn't've thought about it a second, leaving me behind here," Matt said quietly.

Reichert's head jerked up and he stared at him for a moment. "I didn't say that," he nearly snapped; then, "You're honestly telling me you'd sit around and mope about meleaving you behind? I thought you weren't the type. I thought that kind of stuff was too sissy for you."

"You've changed some of your views since then?" Matt said, and shrugged one shoulder. "So have I. You don't have to be buried under a building to see things differently." He paused, debating whether he should say anything more. "Did you ever listen to your answering machine from that day?"

Reichert shook his head. "I couldn't stand to. The thing actually read '47.' Forty-seven! I didn't even know that many people know me or give a shit. Or that it had that much space on it. Christ. I shoved the whole thing in the bottom of the closet and got a new one."

"I can't count how many of the messages on it were mine. No matter how stupid and clingy I told myself it was..." He trailed off for a moment. "I kept hearing you in my head telling me what a baby I was being, to knock it off and man up or whatever, but when you're looking at hundreds, thousands of pictures on a wall..." His voice caught; Reichert was staring at him, a strange look coming to his face. "You know, this is thesecond time I've seen you in dress uniform, along with that picture. And you and your stepbrother looked like you were having so much fun. It's weird seeing all these smiling faces when most of them are already dead."

He didn't know if he'd ever seen such surprise-shock?-and disbelief in Reichert's eyes. "You went looking for me?"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"Then..." Reichert twisted his head around and started taking in the rest of the apartment, as if he hadn't noticed it before. He especially scrutinized the shelves and table and counter of the kitchenette. Matt realized he must be looking for signs of somebody else. "You've been just sitting here this whole time waiting for me to come back?"

The tone of his voice made it sound like this was the most ludicrous thought in the world. Matt bit his lip, not wanting to say anything more; Reichert stared at him for such a long time he finally did so, just to break the silence, though his voice was barely more than a whisper.

"What else was I supposed to do?"

The look in Reichert's eyes started to change, as if stormclouds were rolling in, and they narrowed just a bit and his nose wrinkled just a bit, seemingly in disgust.

"You could'vemoved on."

Matt's stare didn't waver. "So could you."

They both fell silent now, reaching a stalemate. Matt held the stare more easily, as he knew and had always known what he felt, though he could tell it was more difficult for Reichert. He guessed that came with shutting things inside, something the detective had always been good at. He was surprised to suddenly realize, however, that this, their entire relationship, must have run counter to everything else Reichert had always done. For some reason it had never occurred to him that a relationship, especially an informal one, could present such difficulty; relationships had always come easily for him. Looking back on all of Reichert's past reactions, he realized it hadn't been nearly so for him. He felt a bit of disgust with himself for having been so ignorant when he'd thought Reichert was just stubborn; he thought he kept this from his face, but he just barely caught his reflection in Reichert's eyes, and it was like the old shame he'd seen there had bounced back into his own eyes, then back into Reichert's. He knew he couldn't possibly have seen that. But apparently Reichert had. The disgust left his face and his brow furrowed slightly-confusion, sadness, sympathy-Matt wasn't used to this last one, especially not coming from him. He'd never needed any sympathy. It grated on him that anyone might feel that for him. And then he understood what Reichert had been feeling.

For a second he thought something had gone wrong with the sunlight, something had moved in front of the window. His view of Reichert disintegrated into an indefinite blur. Something touched his face and he blinked, feeling the wetness in his eyes, but suddenly he could see again, and it surprised him that Reichert's hand was on his cheek, a gesturehe should have been giving, not one that should be given to him. Hadn't he been the levelheaded one, the patient one, the one to be leaned on, the entire time, even right up to that morning? It made no sense for him not to be that one. He shut his eyes and felt the warmth streaming from them anyway, and tried to take a breath without it hitching, but was unsuccessful. Reichert's hold on his face tightened a little; he felt the bed shifting, and Reichert touched their foreheads together, and they lay like this for a while. Matt didn't sob as Reichert had-that had never been his style-but tears streamed silently from his eyes for some time, and eventually he had to take several deep breaths to try to regain his composure, which he realized was hopelessly lost. He pressed a knuckle to his eye and rubbed at it, opening them and blinking back at his partner.

"Fucking scared little pussy," Reichert said.

Matt snorted so hard it sounded like the air blasted from his nostrils. "Is that some kind of hint?"

"If you want."

Matt dropped his hand back to the bed as Reichert slid toward him and their mouths met. A thrill coursed almost violently through Matt's body, down his spine, making him shudder; he hadn't even known how much he missed this until now. It had been a year, after all. He knew no one else would have caused such a chill to run through him. He placed his hand on Reichert's face now and their mouths sucked hungrily at each other, their breath picking up, and they both shifted closer until their bodies touched. Matt wrapped his leg around Reichert's, careful not to do so too hard, and traced his toes up his calf. The motion made their pelvises press together; Reichert let out a slight sound into Matt's mouth, and, not breaking the kiss, Matt grasped the front of his uniform and rolled them both over to end up atop him, letting his legs straddle Reichert's waist as their hands started roaming over each other feverishly.

He'd actually wished for Reichert to be on top for a change, but feared that his arm and leg might not be able to support him. Perhaps another time. He undid the brass buttons one by one, pulling his shirt loose and slipping his hand under to run up Reichert's chest, making his breath hitch. Reichert broke their kiss, his own hands grasping the front of Matt's shirt.

"Take off your clothes," he panted, his mouth twisting in a smirk, "so I can see you."

Matt smirked back, crushed their mouths together again, but complied, sitting up to pull his shirt off over his head; he always dressed rather casually, and was wearing a T-shirt and shorts at the moment, so disrobing in a hurry was never an issue. He balanced first on one knee, then the other, rather awkwardly, to remove the latter and his underwear, so he sat upon Reichert naked, and leaned down to kiss his neck.

"You're kind of overdressed for this," he murmured, and Reichert let out his odd bark of a laugh, though it didn't sound nearly as awful this time.

"Yeah, well,I didn't choose it..."

Matt worked at his tie and collar, and then his shirt-any other time he could have simply torn it off, but it didn't seem quite right to do that now, no matter how much Reichert might hate the uniform. The entire time he worked, they kissed, Reichert running his hands over him, and when the detective's mouth moved behind his ear he shuddered and felt himself growing hard. He grasped Reichert's right arm and he pushed himself up, pulling off jacket, shirt, tie; his fingers couldn't work fast enough on the rest, especially considering that Reichert was growing excited as well, so they both had to do it, until with some awkward squirming and a kick they were both bared, and practically fell upon each other, biting and clawing. Reichert growled into Matt's throat, and Matt shivered at the sound.

Despite how long they'd been together now, how many times they'd shared the same bed, they'd never been inside each other-not Matt in Reichert, nor Reichert in him. There were times Matt longed for it, but he sensed the other man might not be ready or willing, based on his reaction their second time together. Perhaps he simply wasn't interested. It didn't matter that much, since they always found plenty of other things to do with each other. He remembered how they'd slipped into the shower following that time together-how Reichert had at first seemed to find it beyond bizarre to share the shower stall with another man, until Matt informed him they weren't there merely to wash themselves off; he couldn't tell if the flush that had risen in his face was from lust or embarrassment. It had taken a bit to get that started, but it had ended up well, Reichert tossing back his head and yelping at the spraying water as he sprayed, himself, the motions of Matt's hand stilling upon him while his own hand did the same.

The memory was so vivid he pushed himself against Reichert without thinking and felt him jerk; he ran his kiss down to the hollow of his throat, which he knew the detective liked, and Reichert pressed his head back against the pillow, arching his neck and gasping. He dropped one of his hands to grasp at the bedcovering-another sight familiar to Matt, and one he was glad to see again, after so long. At least some small things hadn't changed.

He extended his leg, using his knee to part Reichert's thighs; Reichert obliged, spreading his legs so Matt could move his hips closer. The first time they'd done this, his partner had seemed alarmed, another reason Matt hadn't bothered taking it one step further. The alternative was almost as good. Reichert bent his right knee somewhat and pressed his pelvis to Matt's, briefly, and this time Matt gasped, his own hips pushing him back down to the bed. He ran his hand down Reichert's taut belly, feeling him flinch, Matt's fingers slipping through the dark line of hair that he loved so much, tangling at the base, stroking against Reichert's hardness. He could feel his lover's muscles tighten to press closer; Matt shifted himself until his penis slipped between Reichert's legs, rubbing against his buttocks; when he pulled back again, Reichert gasped and wrapped his hand around Matt, quickly stroking up and down. Matt hadn't expected it-in the haze of lust the thought had left his mind, he hadn't even noticed when Reichert had touched his body-but therewas a difference, he could feel the rough scar over Reichert's palm when he stroked him. Matt jerked unexpectedly; the briefest twinge of a thought, the old guilt, flickered through the back of his mind, but when Reichert continued running his hand up and down, growing faster, the thought fled him completely; instead he found that the strange new roughness of his touch excited him even more.

He braced his knees between Reichert's and lowered himself, having to use his hands to support himself, hating that he couldn't stroke Reichert in return, but the detective didn't seem to mind too much. When he slipped back between his legs and started to rock himself forward and back on his knees, he felt Reichert's hardness rub against his belly, and the moan Reichert let out made it obvious the motion was just as pleasurable as Matt's hand would be. He reached up to grasp Matt's buttocks, drawing him closer with each push, his fingers sinking in each time Matt's muscles contracted, loosening when they relaxed. Their breath came in hot spurts; they continued to sporadically kiss each other, mouths, necks, chests, but eventually became lost in their motions, Reichert pressing himself against Matt with each thrust, so aside from Reichert's grasp on him, they had no more mind to kiss or caress, and focused only on finishing what was important.

Matt had never heard Reichert cry out the way he did now, repeatedly; he realized that going so long without must have affected him as well. He dug his toes into the bed to propel himself harder; when Reichert trembled against him, he raised himself a bit and pressed his knee down to lunge at him. Reichert's entire body jolted and stiffened and the sharp cry he let out this time was just this side of a short scream; Matt gasped and jerked back from him, and nearly ended up getting kneed in the crotch when Reichert yanked his left leg up. His teeth were bared and his eyes squinched shut; when he opened them just a slit, Matt saw the tears there, and let out his breath in a gust, his insides twisting; he nearly lost his erection, something that had never happened before.

"Justin, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, realizing that in his heated state he'd aimed his knee poorly and had basically jammed it against Reichert's bad leg.

Reichert didn't reply, just continued gasping and grimacing; he grasped Matt's arms hard enough to hurt, though Matt tried to hide the wince from his face. He let out a startled sound when Reichert didn't push him off, but instead pulled him down, so abruptly he practically fell atop him, though he made sure to move his leg so he wouldn't hit him again. Reichert's mouth was against his before he could speak; Matt could do nothing but blink in surprise. Then, something odd-Reichert opened his eyes and they fixed directly on Matt's even as they still kissed. Matt didn't think they'd ever met each other's eyes while kissing. He saw a thousand things in there that he couldn't describe, as there wasn't enough time in the world, but his breath picked up and it felt as if his heart were battering at his chest.

They had to break their kiss to breathe; "Justin-" Matt said again, but the feel of his hand running down his belly and grasping him made him gasp and tighten.

"If I stopped doing whatever I'm doing whenever it acts up-" Reichert's mouth met his neck and Matt shivered as it ran down to his shoulder "-then I'd never fucking get anything done." Matt fought a whimper this time, trembling against his touch. "Keep going," Reichert whispered in his ear, making Matt shiver. "If you think I'd let that spoil anything..." Then Matt felt Reichert's hand on his, pulling it toward where their bodies met; he distinctly felt how hard he was, how he hadn't lost his excitement at all. That was all the prompting Matt needed.

When Reichert nudged against him, he raised himself slightly so the detective could roll over; he couldn't support himself on hands and knees, but it didn't matter, they had plenty of free time ahead of them. He didn't feel so bad then that because of this he couldn't reach under and stroke him; when he pressed himself between his legs again and started moving, swaying back and forth, Reichert dropped his head and let out a muffled groan against the pillow. He kept his left arm curled up at his side, but dug into the bed again with his right hand, and Matt could feel his right leg tensing against him, toes doing just as his fingers did. He bent down to let his tongue run over his nape and up the back of his neck, enjoying the sharp cry Reichert let out, the feel of his buttocks tightening against him and the lithe arch of his back. When Reichert's moan grew-Matt could just barely make out the muffled entreaty, "Please, Matt-"-he lifted his head and, supporting himself with his hands, carefully bracing himself with his knees, picked up speed and force, pumping between his partner's legs to rub against him, panting hoarsely and slick with sweat by now as their bodies shifted, their hips pressing against the bed, again, and again, the slight creak of the springs just inflaming him even more inside.

They rocked against each other, motions growing faster, until the foot of the bed thumped again, but no one thumped back, perhaps used to this sort of thing by now; Reichert kept himself from screaming at the ceiling only by burrowing against the pillow even harder to smother the hoarse cry he was letting out. From having more experience, Matt could hold out longer; when he felt Reichert's body go rigid, fingers twisting the blanket and back arching so his buttocks tightened around Matt's shaft, he could tell that he'd come; Matt let himself loose as Reichert untensed and sank, and the hot stickiness spreading upon them both made him let out a final low moan into the pillow. Matt lay down atop him so their cheeks touched, their rapid breaths hot on each other's face, the sweat slowly cooling on their skin. He shut his eyes, trying to recover himself; he didn't know if he'd ever felt such an ache, so sharp it almost hurt. His partner let out a small noise; Matt nuzzled his neck, hearing his shuddery sigh, and was just about positive he must be feeling the same way.

Plenty of free time ahead of them. Matt didn't think much of keeping Reichert preoccupied in his apartment, murmuring again in his ear that he deserved a break; when Reichert murmured in response that this was a pretty hard break, Matt could only laugh at the unintended joke and agree.

"There's nothing wrong with a working vacation," he said, rolling his lover over and kissing him; Reichert loosely looped his arms about him and caressed his waist. Matt smiled softly down at him, and the slight smile Reichert offered in return made everything worth it. Remembering the past year, memories flicking through his head at the speed of light, taking only a fraction of a second-the unreturned phone calls, the empty apartment, the thousands of faces on walls, the bottomless void that seemed like it could never be filled again until the mere knowledge that he was alive was more than enough-and Matt once more pressed his lips to Reichert's, Reichert's grasp on his hips sinking in.

Matt drew himself slightly back and slipped closer to the foot of the bed, taking Reichert's own hips in his hands; the detective shut his eyes and arched his neck with a whimper, apparently knowing what was coming next, and parted his legs again. His groin and lower belly, as well as a small area of the bed, were sticky with their fluids, which in the past one or both of them might have found distasteful and inconvenient, but Matt no longer cared, and neither did Reichert. In fact, Matt spent several moments running his tongue along Reichert's inner thighs, up the line where his groin met his leg, his lower belly, and his lover's groan grew louder this time, body thrumming like a bowstring. By the time Matt took him in his mouth, his breath was already coming hard and fast in sharp gasps, and both of them knew it wouldn't take very long this time. Matt stroked himself while working his tongue up and down; he loved how Reichert began to thrust his hips up at him, deep into his throat, his buttocks leaving the bed to form a hollow beneath him, where Matt used his free hand to grasp his contracting muscles. He was vaguely surprised when Reichert grasped his hair and gently but firmly pulled his head back so Matt gasped and blinked hazily.