I watch you sleep. Why, I don’t know. I feel you all around me. I think about things we’ve said to one another in passing, an occasional grunt here or a humph there. Your long black hair still resembles raw silk fresh on the loom and your alabaster skin rivals the smoothest cream.

I remember the first time you spoke to me with a voice so deep and balanced. "What you are doing symbolizes the crushing of youth, of hope, democracy and individual freedom!" Tiananmen feels as if it were yesterday rather than eleven years ago. I am twenty-eight now and so are you. You and you’re need for justice. I fell in love with you that day. I pushed the love aside. I ignored it. I buried my feelings deep and covered them with remorse for what I had done to all of those pacifists that day in the Square. I didn’t realize it then. I would have died with you, by your side fighting until the end of it all.

I recall that day well because it was the day I disappointed myself, serving as a pawn for reckless fools. Your voice, passion, and perspiration all combined to seduced me. Its message slapped me back it reality.

Ding. Ding. Clang.

I don’t like wind chimes. They’ve disturbed my sleep every night since we arrived. Is it the chimes or is it the fact that your body is so close to me and there is nothing I can do about it? There is nothing I will do about it.

It’s raining hard outside and I pray for this room to grow a wall between us so I cannot watch you lounge on the bed. What a brilliant animal you’ve become, manhood is kind to you. The way your coal colored hair surrounds your face moves me. I spy on your chest as it rises and fall and I want to open your robe, touch my lips to your skin, and massage rub small circles over your nipples with my thumbs.

Do you desire me, as I burn for you? I try to read you, but like a foreign magazine you are a mystery to me. Instead I only stare.

I watch as you stow your gear, clean your computer, and leave me to take a shower. I anxiously wait for you to emerge from the bathroom and when you do you are naked and wet and I try so hard to listen while you explain that there is only one towel and you left it for me.

Thank you.

Your lack of modesty fuels my inner sanctum of desire.

You doze off. I watch your chest rise and fall.

I tear my eyes away to take a shower. My fear of being caught forces me not to touch myself and think of you.

I wrap a towel around my waist and it hits me suddenly; I am so imposing compared to you. I touch my muscular pecs and stare at your lean chest. You Japanese are so thin compared to us.

"What is it Bao?" you ask. I look into your shadowy eyes.

"Nothing." I answer.

I hold my towel tight and walk to my laptop. I will check my cache of mail in order to avoid you. I never answer personal email on company time yet I must focus my eyes on something other than the opening in your robe.

I fail to focus and glance past my screen and watch you on the bed. You stare at the ceiling fan that holds a nasty pest strip from its light fixture. You wonder out loud why the strip is over the bed and not elsewhere.

How unsanitary, you hiss.

Yes. It is disgusting.

You turn over on your back and your robe is open. You did not put on underwear and I see that your pubic hair is as black as the locks on your head. I feel the burn in my groin. Emails. That’s what I must do.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and glance down at the opening in your robe.

"Biyang thinks I should get my belly button pierced." you say.

"Piercing is a female perversion." I say. Why did I say such a strange thing? Are you trying to make conversation with me? I am unable to say what I am thinking. I don't know how. You would look atrocious with a ring in your belly button. You have such a beautiful abdomen and a belly button that sinks in. I want to bury my tongue in it and taste the appalling smell I know is there. Everyone has belly button smell. Do you Sang? Yes, this is a better response. I do not say it though. I can’t. I don’t know how.

You fall asleep. Finally. I can observe you without worry. I catch you breath out of turn. You snore. You roll over with your back to me and the robe pulls tight over your small backside. I don’t like this robe. I want you to take it off. I say nothing and instead I close my laptop and pull on my briefs.

I climb on to the bed beside you. I smell you now—hotel soap and shampoo—I lean close to your hair inhale deep. I want to visit Japan someday and see men as striking as you. I doubt what I will find to be as alluring, but it’s certainly worth a try for I know that you and I could never be.

It’s cold in here. Rain teems outside and I don’t feel like getting up to shut the window. I slip beneath the covers on what little of the bed I have and this rousts you from your slumber.

"What? Oh Bao." You move over. I stare at the back of your head. It moves as you speak to me. "What time is it now?"

"After 2300." I reply.

You laugh out loud. "You aren’t in the army any more."

"Sorry." I whisper.

My pulse races as your turn over and face me. "Ever wonder why that in Chinese the words for crisis and opportunity are the same?" You ask. I barely smile. It is obvious you are in a mood for light-hearted conversation. When I hear you verbally spar with our coworker Biyang I enjoy it immensely. I like it when you laugh.

"Why did Confucius always speak in English?" I ask. You smile at this one. Oh you are perfect Sang.

"Have you ever wondered why just one letter makes all the difference between here and there?" you laugh. "If the plural of mouse is mice, what is the plural of spouse?" you ask me. I show no emotion. I don’t know how.

"If people from Poland called Poles why aren’t people from Holland called holes?" I must remember to thank Biyang for this one. Your laughter moves through me and I can no longer contain my need. I wish to lean over and kiss those shiny teeth exposed between your lips.

"If the plural of octopus is octopi and platypus is platypi what is the plural of school bus?" You sigh.

I shrug. What is wrong with me? Is there something in my brain that will not allow the strong emotions I am feeling to register on my face? You fall silent as I laugh out loud. Laughter is unusual for me, but I have done it on occasion and I find I quite like it. I don't think, however, that you've ever seen me laughing. I know the words I want to say and the things I want to do and yet I cannot perform or say anything. All I can do is slip my fist between my legs and rub my cock.

"Nani yatten' do yo?" you ask in Japanese. I turn to look at you and note your strange expression. I follow your stare to see that my blanket receded as I laughed and exposed my sin. I am embarrassed now. I feel humiliation and blood rush to my face. I sit up and turn my back to you. I can never face you again.

What was I thinking doing that with you so close to me? Next to me! Speaking to me! I want to die.

"Sorry Bao." You say. "I didn’t mean to say it like that…"

"I was just adjusting myself." I snap at you. My tone is enough to make you turn away from me. Why did I do that? I am dead that’s why. I am dead inside.

"Did you fix it?" you titter. I hear jest in your voice as my humiliation amuses you. You laugh at me, not with me. I do not laugh, so why should you laugh? I turn my head and glare at you. I study the back of your head as you snigger. My eyes move to your ass. Your robe hides entirely too much. I imagine your skin tastes sweet and I can’t see it beneath that fucking robe!

Take it off Sang. What? Not moving? I'll teach you not to hear me! Damn! You hit me! I only grabbed the robe because I told you to take it off and you failed to do so!

On your stomach now aren't you?

I've got both your arms behind your back. Your flailing hair whips to and fro and stings my arms. Your robe is off.

I am strong. I work out intensely, and now I will show you how strong I am...

...Oh Sang...your firm, sleek, slender body struggles against me and fuels my need for you. You are a lithe and powerful animal...

No . . . Sang!

Such course language!

Turn around Sang! Look at what's waiting for you.

Its name is Ng Bao.

Look it Sang, you do this to me.

You've always done this to me.

"Are going to shoot me again!" you shout. No. You know who I am. I know you, and you know me.

No Sang! Don't cry. I don't want to see you cry. Let's turn you back over. There. Better. Please don't fight me Sang. I will kill you if you fight me...no...no I would never kill you. What the hell am I doing? Stop. I must stop.

I climb off of you and move away. I do not turn my back on you because I know I have dishonored you and you will kill me if you can. You slowly turn over, your tears gone, your hair in tangles, and you wipe your nose.

A smile? You smile at me.

No laughter; only a seductive smile as you rest your back against the headboard and spread your legs. I watch your fingers roll the hard tips of your chocolate colored nipples. I am hungry as I watch them tighten to pebble hardness. You slid two of your fingers in your mouth and suck them for me. Your cheeks hallow in as you wet them with spittle.

"You going to shoot me again Bao." You whisper and slide your back low enough to expose your hairless hole to me. I an entranced as you raise your long powerful legs straight up into the air and your hardening purple cock bounces against your belly.

Your fingers find the beautiful auburn pucker below your balls and force their way in. I know what I want to do to. You know what I want to do to you. I stroke the skin over my cock and move to my bag. I pick it up and throw it on the bed by your ass but you don't move to pick it up.

"Do it to me Bao," you plead. "Just like that day you shot me, make me yours again. Please." You beg me, literally. It’s in your voice. This isn't happening.

I love you so much. I walk over and place my palms on the sweaty skin behind your knees. I lean down and kiss the soft skin under your sac. Your sweat is tangy and the skin of your hole is so rough and sweet and I run my tongue over your fingers buried deep inside.

I pull a tube out of my bag and watch your eyes as they focus on my fingers lined with gel.

"Are you sure?" I must know. I need to know.

"Do you have anything?" you ask. I do. Maybe. No!

"I gave my last rubber to Biyang." I hiss.

"Um." the cogs of your mind turn as I slip one of my lubed fingers over yours and inside your luscious hole. You close your eyes and tighten your hole around our fingers.

"Oh shit Bao...what are you using on me?" I hear you gasp. I lean in and your eyes cross as you follow my face for the kiss.

"Benzocain." I reply. I don't want you to feel any pain because of me Sang. I don't want another incident to transpire between us. I know if my dreams come true tonight, and I am inside of you, I will lose control as I did in Tiananmen after I shot you. I don't want to hurt you again Sang...

"Um...okay..." You sigh and begin to kiss me back. I capture your swollen, ripe lips in my mouth and absorb your essence into my very cells. All of you Sang, it’s all I ever wanted.

"Wait...Bao." you sigh and push me away.

"What?" I gasp.

"Have to get something." you say sternly.

"I don't have anything." I am so breathless for you.

"We got to get something," You say as I pump your pretty hard on.

"Why?" I hear myself whine. I sound like a child. What have you done to me Sang?

"I've see what you and Biyang pick up at the bar!" you snap. I cannot argue with his logic. "Uh...wait...that plastic wrap for the food..." you suggest.

Yes. You are brilliant Sang.

"Don't go anywhere." I order and walk to my bag.

"Where can I go?" I hear you say. "You've given me an anal epidural." I laugh out loud at this. It is funny.

I find the Suran Wrap and tear a square free. I come back and gently lay the plastic on you. It is large enough to cover the entire recess between the globes of your ass. I cannot think words to describe you. My mind is hazy as I move in between your legs.

"Pull you knees back." I order. You grin at me. You like it when I speak to you, don’t you?

"Like this Bao?" you whimper in jest "I'm not sure I'm ready for it..." you tease.

"Oh you're ready Sang, your ass is made for my jiba. Come on now, pull 'em back." I rise up on my knees and tuck your bended shins under my arm and lean up so our lips touch.

I push in. You are the piece of the puzzle that fits. You let out the hottest cry of pleasure as I fill you in one swift motion. I hear the plastic crunch as I slam into your ass, again and again and the sensation is hard to believe. I never felt anything so tight and secure. We are well-oiled machines as we make love, so unlike that time in Tiananmen when I took your feverish, unconscious and bleeding body in the alley behind headquarters.

I lick your lips and gaze at your eyelids.

Look at Sang. See me. Bao. Ng Bao. Corporal Ng Bao, the young officer who shot you eleven years ago.

My body plunges, it obeys an instinct I am truly unaware of until now. I burn for you and drift into a semi-trance as I watch you beneath me.

"Can you feel it? Can your feel me inside you?" I ask.

"I think…" you smile at me. Oh so handsome. "I’m full, but it’s numb…"

I have to breathe. I suck air through my teeth and try not to hyperventilate.

"Sit up Sang? I want you to see, you've got my fucking jiba all the way inside you!" I gasp. I watch as you open your eyes and lift your head. You inhale with a shiver and glance up at me with longing eyes.

"Oh Bao," you moan, "So beautiful! Let me come please! I gotta come so bad!" This arouses me beyond repair and I begin driving you in long slow strokes.

In and out. In and out.

"Oh, Sang, shoot your load, come on shoot it!" I grab your shaft, and at that moment you explode, its over for you. You shudder and soak our stomachs with your heat.

"No..." I gasp. I'm not ready. Not now. "Not done... not done loving you..."

You kiss me so hard. I lock my eyes on yours. Can you see me? Are you seeing me? Yes. Your black pupils are so large with arousal. You see me the way I want you to see me. Don't fear me please... no... don't want to hurt you ever again...

"S’okay." I beg you. "Don't be afraid of me please."

"I love you Bao." You grunt softly as my thrusts punctuate your words. I move until I am complete.

Later, while you sleep, I run my finger down the scar on your left shoulder. Eleven years heals all wounds as easily as this night heals me.

 

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